TITLE: The Substance of Things
AUTHOR: Jerry (jerrycanary@worldnet.att.net)
CLASSIFICATION: XRA
KEYWORDS: MSR
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Episodes through Field Trip (late season six) are
fair game, but specific references are few. This could take
place "now" if you ignored the fact that it is set in 
September. <g> 
ARCHIVE: Spookys, yes. Gossamer, no. Others: please ask
DISCLAIMER: It's just for fun, folks. No infringement 
intended. No money changing hands.
FEEDBACK: jerrycanary@worldnet.att.net
NOTES: Author's notes appear at the end, but I must thank 
my betas up front. Dasha K, Plausible Deniability, and Shari 
took a leap of faith and generously helped me learn how to
write a longer story. 
All remaining errors are mine.

*****************
The Substance of Things
CHAPTER ONE

Friday, 6:30pm

"Dana, honey, I'm just so glad that you're going to join us."

Scully wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear as she 
brought the heel of her hand down on the flat of the 
chopping knife and crushed the clove of garlic. Her 
mother's voice continued enthusiastically.

"I think you'll have a wonderful time and you're just going 
to love -"

"It'll be great, Mom," Scully interrupted, finding that 
multitasking her mother and a caesar salad was not working 
out. "And we're having dinner afterwards, right? Just you 
and me?"

"Yes, dear. So I'll pick you up around one?"

"Sounds fine, Mom. See you then."

Scully continued chopping the clove, edging close to the 
counter so that she could let the phone slide down her arm 
onto the ceramic tiles. She sighed, then berated herself 
for not having more interest. Her mother was right, she 
would enjoy it -- after all, hadn't she been wanting 
something more like a normal life?

She swept her finger down the flat of the knife, pushing 
the remaining pieces of garlic onto the cutting board, and 
turned toward the refrigerator. She was stopped by the 
phone's ring, echoing oddly off the counter tile.

Now what?

"Hello?"

"Hey Scully."

Mulder's warm, familiar voice, tinged with mischief, 
brought a smile to her face; a smile that she quickly 
stifled as if he were in the room.

"Mulder, what's up?"

"Pack a bag, G-woman."

"A case?" Scully considered slapping her own hand. What was 
that note of hope and anticipation in her voice? A case 
would mean that she would have to cancel tomorrow's plans 
with her mother...

"Yep. Scenic Elkins, West Virginia. Kidnapping, possible 
homicide."

"X-file or profiling?"

"A little of both," Mulder answered. "I'll fill you in when 
I pick you up. Tomorrow. Eight a.m."

"Why don't I just meet you at the airport?"

"The airport? Why?"

Scully squinted, feeling suddenly as though she'd missed a 
turn on the Mulder road of explanation. "Because that's 
where the planes are?"

Mulder chuckled. "No planes, Scully. Car. Driving. 
Mountains, scenery, my witty conversation -- you'll love 
it."

"Uh huh."

"Kim's already arranged for the rental. So. Eight o' 
clock?"

"I'll see you then, Mulder."

She put the phone down on the counter and stared at the 
grout between the tiles. Now that she was alone -- well, 
more alone than a minute ago -- she allowed herself just a 
small smile, one that acknowledged that she actually did 
enjoy road trips with Mulder these days. Something in the 
last few months had shifted, and they had rediscovered the 
banter that had been part of their early work together. 

They were spending more time together too. Scully turned 
and leaned back against the edge of the counter, remembering 
how Mulder had talked her into going to a professional 
basketball game.  Their seats, probably obtained by the 
Gunmen through a hacking scam, had been on the lower level 
and Mulder had divided his attention between yelling at 
the referees and explaining the game to her.

Between his enthusiasm and that of several women around 
her, Scully had found herself drawn into the excitement and 
noise of the game. When she had recognized a charging foul 
by an opposing player late in the game, she had yelled 
"That's a charge, ref!" before her brain could stop her. 
The referee had obligingly called the foul and Scully, 
looking up at Mulder triumphantly, had been taken aback by 
the open look of joy and affection on his face. Then they 
had grinned at each other and returned their attention to 
the game. Moment over.

But if she were honest, there were more and more of those 
moments, and she knew that a tide had shifted somewhere, 
because she found she didn't mind. 

The phone rang again. Scully was talking before getting the 
receiver to her ear.

"No, we are not leaving any earlier than eight. Eat some 
breakfast, go for a run. Do not knock on my door a minute 
before eight a.m."

"Agent Scully?"

"Sir?" Oops. Skinner. "I'm sorry, sir, I..."

"I take it you've talked to Mulder."

"Yes, sir, he called just a moment ago, and.."

"Did he make you aware of the facts of the case?"

"He said it was a multiple kidnapping and possible 
homicide. He said he would fill me in tomorrow morning."

"It's kidnapping, yes -- of teenage boys. Ten of them."

"All right. I assume that you'll want me to participate in 
the autopsy of a possible victim?"

"Actually, I believe the autopsy may already be completed 
when you arrive. You may, of course, wish to consult with 
the Medical Examiner, but I expect you to spend the 
majority of your time working with Agent Mulder in the 
field and on any profile."

In a flash, Scully understood the purpose of the call. The 
vision of Mulder and Roche in an abandoned streetcar swam 
before her eyes, and she heard the sound of a gunshot and a 
little girl's panicked scream.

"I understand, sir. I'll keep you posted."

"Good. I'll expect to hear from you after you've had a 
chance to meet the investigative team and review the evidence."

"Yes, sir. Goodbye."

"Goodnight, Agent. Safe trip."

Scully walked the phone back to its cradle on the table 
behind her living room couch, hoping that it would take the 
cue and be silent for the rest of the evening. Kidnapping, 
possible murder, children involved, Mulder profiling ... 
and her role?

Suddenly, Scully realized that there was one more phone 
call on the agenda, and it was going to require some acting 
skills. Her mother was going to be disappointed enough 
without sensing that her daughter was relieved about the 
change in plans, especially if the change was due to FBI 
business - and Mulder.


*******************
September 4, 1999
Saturday

Field Notes
Case #X-144-25
SA Dana Scully

At A.D. Skinner's request, Agent Mulder and I have joined a 
team of FBI agents and local law enforcement personnel who 
are investigating the disappearance of 10 teenage boys in 
and around Randolph County, West Virginia. The young men, 
ages 14 - 18, have all disappeared in the last seven days 
and yesterday the body of one of the youngest of the boys, 
Ben Andrews, was found by hikers in the Kumbrabow State 
Forest. Preliminary examination by the county medical 
examiner indicates that he was most probably suffocated 
deliberately.

Several aspects of this case are puzzling. No one has 
reported that the young men were forcibly abducted; in 
fact, there are no witnesses to six of the disappearances. 
Each of these boys seems to have walked out of his home 
voluntarily in the middle of the night, in his sleepwear, 
carrying no personal items or clothing.

The other four boys vanished under even more unusual 
circumstances. They were on a camping trip sponsored by 
their church and according to the reports of their youth 
minister and his assistant, all four simply walked into the 
forest in the middle of the night. Both adults reported 
that, although they were awake and witnessed the 
disappearance, they were unable to move or otherwise 
respond after hearing "an eerie voice, singing in the 
woods."

It is this last report that has prompted Agent Mulder's and 
my involvement in this case. Agent Mulder is expected to 
contribute to a possible profile of one or more abductors 
and I will review the forensic evidence. I have also been 
asked by A.D. Skinner, in light of Agent Mulder's reprimand 
after the Roche case, to assist Agent Mulder in his focus 
on this investigation. 

**************
Saturday
4:30pm
Kumbrabow State Forest

Scully knelt down in the soft earth by the creek bank and 
stared at the crushed leaves at the foot of the tree. There 
was no chalk outline, no way to tell exactly how Ben 
Andrews' body had been laid out beside the trunk of the 
large maple. She had seen the police photographs, however, 
and felt now as though she could see his tousled red hair 
and feel his cold cheek cupped against her hand. Fourteen 
years old, dead, and left alone here in this remote place.

"Agent Scully, is there a problem with the report?"

Startled out of her reverie, Scully looked up at the stocky 
figure standing next to her. His gaze was concerned and she 
immediately stood up to reassure him, straightening her 
coat and brushing the hair back from her face.

"No, Chief Grey, everything looks fine. The report is very 
thorough."

"Well, I'm glad to say that we don't have too much occasion 
to conduct a murder investigation, but our men are well-
trained and I think you'll find that our work is 
professional." He ran one hand over his thinning crew cut, 
then stuffed it back in his jacket pocket.

Scully nodded, giving the police chief a small smile. "I 
just hope that we can help the team with the 
investigation."

They both turned and watched her tall partner as he paced 
around the perimeter of the crime scene, seemingly staring 
at everything and nothing at the same time. Scully knew 
better than to disturb him and, to his credit, Randall Grey 
followed her lead. Mulder, as usual, was unaware of his 
companions as he scanned the area and located pieces of a 
puzzle only he could put together.

When Scully turned back to the impression in the ground 
left by Ben Andrews' body, she was surprised to find that 
she had to bend over to see the base of the tree clearly. 
Looking up through the canopy of the forest, she saw that 
the sky had lost its daylight color and, checking her 
watch, she realized that dusk was upon them. She and Mulder 
had driven the five hours from D.C., and she had assumed 
they would check in at the motel and start their 
investigation with the team in the morning. She had not been 
surprised, however, when Mulder had insisted on seeing this 
place immediately.

Mulder must have sensed the encroaching darkness as well, 
for he turned and walked back towards the creek, stuffing 
his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat.

"I'm through here, Scully. Do you need anything else?"

"No, Mulder, I'm fine. I can't get anything else done until 
I see the Medical Examiner's report."

"Let's go get checked in, then." Mulder turned and started 
back toward the police chief's car. Scully shook her head 
ruefully and turned to their escort.

"Thank you, Chief Grey. We appreciate your bringing us out 
to the scene right away. I hope you won't mind dropping us 
at the station so we can pick up our car." She smiled at 
him again, fulfilling her role as the team's diplomat. 
Mulder, she thought, one day someone will insist on your 
demonstrating some social skills. What will you do then?

*****************************
9pm
Elkins Motor Lodge

Scully fluffed the pillows against the headboard before 
sitting down cross-legged on the bed and opening her 
laptop. Fresh from her shower and feeling relaxed now that 
she was in her roomy silk pajamas, she settled in to work 
on her field notes.

The computer booted up, but before she could open the 
necessary program, a chime sounded. She glanced at the 
appointment reminder that flashed onto the screen. "Church 
rummage sale set-up. Sunday, 1-6 p.m. Dinner with Mom."

She sighed. It wasn't exactly a wave of guilt washing over 
her, but it certainly qualified as a twinge.

"Faith without works is dead." She knew the scripture; it 
had been the crux of Father McCue's homily the Sunday she 
had volunteered to help with the rummage sale. She had 
promised herself that she would make a greater commitment 
to the parish, but she had to admit that she hadn't ever bought into 
the image of herself pricing ladies' handbags and sorting through 
boxes of donated shoes, no matter how worthy the cause.

Now here she was, two hundred miles away, and she hadn't 
given the church one thought since leaving D.C. Was the 
renewal of her faith just the product of desperate times 
and extraordinary experiences? Was it easily brushed aside 
at the first prosaic test? Did she lack steadfastness, 
dedication? 

"It wasn't as if you could turn down an assignment," a 
voice from her right shoulder offered. "Well, no," replied 
another - and definitely more angelic - voice from the 
left; "but you didn't have to see it as some sort of 
reprieve! You were glad to hear your partner's voice. You 
might as well face it, you found the prospect of a weekend 
with Mulder much more enticing than the church project, 
didn't you? So now you're spending time with a man who 
scoffs at your beliefs. Isn't it possible that he's pulling you 
away from yours?"

Scully pushed the lid of the laptop down and ran both hands 
through her hair. Great, she thought, now I've conjured up 
my own little debaters, complete with wings and horns. She 
shook her head vigorously and tried to focus on something 
else. 

Catching up on medical journals, now, that was what she 
should do. Plenty of time to finish the case notes in the 
morning. Perhaps she could find a public radio station 
playing classical music. Yes, a review of the new toxicity 
screening tests and some Mozart - that would keep her 
occupied until sleep came.

*********************
CHAPTER TWO 

September 5
Sunday
7am 


"Okay, people, let's settle down and get organized." 
Randall Grey's voice carried over the various conversations 
and paper shuffling in the large basement room of the 
Elkins County Courthouse. Scully looked toward the door and 
saw, with relief, that Mulder had arrived on time. He was 
balancing a bag of pastries, two coffee cups and small 
creamer containers along with his notes and she watched him 
take in the makeshift command center. 

The Elkins police department was not large enough to house 
both the investigation team and the equipment it needed, so 
Chief Grey had made arrangements to use this storage area. 
Shelves and boxes had been moved to the sides of the room 
and some were now acting as makeshift tables for a fax 
machine, copier, phone bank and computers. Two long tables 
with folding chairs had been set up in the center of the 
room and the requisite audio/visual equipment was in place. 

As Mulder took his seat on her right, Scully turned her 
attention to the woman standing beside Chief Grey. The FBI 
badge attached to the lapel of her lavender jacket 
identified her as Bureau, and she looked familiar, though 
Scully was fairly sure they'd never been introduced. 

"Folks, this is Special Agent Deborah Cavanaugh -- she'll be 
the agent in charge of this investigation. I've promised 
our full cooperation. Agent Cavanaugh?" 

The tall, trim woman stepped forward and looked around the 
room. She didn't speak at first and Scully noted that her 
silence served to focus each person's attention. Besides 
Mulder, Scully and Chief Grey, there were six men and two 
women seated at the tables, all in uniform. 

Agent Cavanaugh began to speak. 

"I'd like to thank Chief Grey for his help in setting up 
this area and starting the coordination of your various 
investigations. I know that until two days ago you were 
working independently, but we are now considering this one 
case. The FBI will lead this inquiry, but we will depend on 
you who are familiar with the people and places in this 
area." 

Scully watched and listened as Agent Cavanaugh walked 
around the tables, addressing each officer individually and 
reviewing his or her role in the investigation to date. The 
SAC's attitude was an effective balance of command and 
diplomacy, and Scully found herself taking mental notes. 

"Special Agents Mulder and Scully are here from DC to 
assist us," Agent Cavanaugh said, as she returned to the 
front of the room and gestured toward them. "Agent Mulder 
has an extensive background in behavioral sciences and will 
be working on a profile of our suspect or suspects." 

"Suspect," Mulder stated firmly as he lifted his hand to 
identify himself to the officers. 

"Suspect," the SAC repeated with authority, and many of the 
officers looked down and made a note in their files. Well, 
thought Scully, at least that's one hurdle avoided: 
Mulder's got respect. 

"Special Agent Scully," the SAC continued, "is a medical 
doctor with extensive experience in forensic pathology and 
will be focusing on the physical evidence. I would like you 
all to be sure that she has all the latest lab and crime 
scene reports." 

The officers turned their attention to Scully and she 
acknowledged them with a nod. Cavanaugh's air of 
familiarity had surprised her, however, and she turned to 
Mulder with her unspoken question. 

Mulder, as was often the case, had read her mind. He was 
holding up his legal pad to show her the name he had 
written: "Patterson." 

Ah, Scully realized. Behavioral Science colleagues. No 
wonder Cavanaugh was deferring to Mulder on the profile. 
The SAC opened a file and addressed the group as a whole. 

"Let's make sure we all have the basic information. My 
partner, Agent Kessler, will be joining us any minute and 
he will be introducing you to the computer program we'll be 
using to consolidate the investigative information. Until 
then, let's review. 

"We have ten boys who we now believe to be the victims of a 
single perpetrator. Ben Andrews' body was found yesterday. 
He was one of the boys who disappeared from their homes, 
the others being Chris Sanders, Levi McIntyre, Judd 
Lightner, Dan Campbell, and Tyler Childress. The four boys 
who vanished while on a church camping trip are Luke 
Garrison, Chad Gardner, Bobby Johnson and Mark Samuels. 

"We're going to do some backtracking, folks, with the 
perspective of all of this being the work of a single 
kidnapper. In addition, making our notes as thorough as 
possible will help when we enter information into the 
computer database." 

Scully began to wonder where Agent Kessler was, and why his 
partner, acting as SAC, didn't appear concerned about his 
absence. Being partnered with Mulder had allowed her many 
opportunities to watch Skinner's unspoken annoyance at an 
agent's late arrival. 

"With this in mind, I'll assign some of you to return to each 
of the homes from which boys disappeared. Make sure that 
all the neighbors have been interviewed and re-check for the 
presence of anyone else who might have been in the area 
on the nights in question. 

"Officers Minnick and Cole will return to the State Forest 
and re-interview park rangers and campers. Keep in mind 
that...Ah, Agent Kessler, join me up here." 

Everyone turned to look at the dark-haired man standing in 
the door, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder. He had a 
large box and binder tucked under his left arm, and with 
his left hand, he held the handle of a large leather 
satchel. At Cavanaugh's words, he walked toward the front 
of the room. 

"This is Agent Len Kessler. Now that he's here, I'll let 
him brief you on the computer system we'll be using. Then 
we'll split up and reconvene at four this afternoon. Agents 
Mulder and Scully will be working with me at the police
station, re-interviewing the parents and our three witnesses 
to the camping disappearances." 

Agent Kessler took the hand-off smoothly, demonstrating to 
Scully that these two were not a new team. She and Mulder 
were familiar with the computer system he was describing 
from previous cases, and she turned to Mulder to ask if he 
knew Agent Kessler as well. 

Mulder, however, was already scribbling on his legal pad 
and clearly not open for any business other than profiling. 
Scully felt her spine straighten and feet brace against the 
floor as she settled in for the long haul. 


******************************
11am
Elkins Police Department 

After two hours of Mulder's questioning, the youth minister 
let it slip. 

"But I love the church. They gave me a chance," Matt Rust 
protested. The obese young man was leaning across the 
interrogation room table, his fat belly folding over its 
edge. 

"A chance?" Mulder queried from the corner of the room, and 
only Scully noticed her partner shift his weight slightly 
to the balls of his feet. 

"I, um...I didn't have any experience as a youth minister 
and they hired me. They gave me a chance." 

Mulder leaned back against the wall, seeming for a moment 
to be satisfied with this explanation. Scully knew from the 
file that this was Rust's first job out of college. 

Mulder's next words contradicted his relaxed posture. "And 
they gave you a chance when they hired you despite your 
criminal record." 

Rust glanced quickly at Scully, who masked her surprise, 
then back at Mulder. 

"That...those records are sealed. How did you find out 
about it?" 

Mulder didn't answer. 

"You're just guessing," the young man said, straightening 
up a bit, "you can't know about juvenile cases." 

Mulder moved swiftly toward the table and planted his hands 
on the surface, leaning toward Rust. 

"You might as well tell us about it now, because I promise 
you, we will find out what happened, sealed records or not. 
If it doesn't have anything to do with this case, you've 
got nothing to worry about." 

Rust did not seem to be comforted by this assurance, Scully 
noted. His pudgy face was turning red and she was certain 
that his heart rate had doubled in just 30 seconds. 

"I don't have to tell you anything. I can ask for a 
lawyer." 

Mulder stayed silent. 

"I'm not going to talk to you anymore. Am I under arrest?" 
Mulder waited, still not speaking. 

"I don't have to talk to you," Rust repeated, like a 
mantra, as he stood up, wrestling with his chair. "I don't 
have to talk to you." 

Mulder stepped aside as Rust made for the door. It was 
Scully who blocked his exit. 

"Make sure that you stay in town and available to the 
officers investigating this case, Mr. Rust," she said 
firmly before allowing him to leave. 

************************* 

Matt Rust's assistant, Bill Hawkins, had no such 
revelations to make and Mulder seemed to have no 
significant suspicions about him. Hawkins, who at 19 years 
old was only 3 years older than the oldest boy on the 
camping trip, repeated Rust's story about the night the 
boys disappeared. 

"The last thing I remember thinking on my own was 'what is 
Luke doing out of his tent?'" he related. "After that, I 
just sat there, watching them all leave." 

"It was just the four boys on the trip with you?" Scully 
asked. 

"Yes, ma'am. It was a reward for having participated in all 
of our summer work projects." 

"And where was Matt Rust when the boys started walking 
into the woods?" asked Mulder. 

"He was right next to me, sir. We were sitting on a log by 
the fire, talking about the hike we were planning, and at 
first I thought it was the wind in the trees, or some weird 
sound from the fire, but then it had words and I realized 
it was singing --" 

"What words?" Scully interrupted. 

"I don't really remember most of them. I mean, that's when 
the trance, or whatever you want to call it, started. I 
think I heard 'come home, come home,' and, uh, maybe 'I'm 
waiting today.''' 

"Can you describe the voice?" 

"Well, it was kinda high-pitched, like a woman's, but I 
guess it coulda been a man singing up high-like. I think 
maybe I heard 'calling today,' too. That's all I can 
remember. I am so sorry -- do the parents know that we were 
hypnotized, or whatever? Do they know that we couldn't stop 
their boys? I wanted to stop them, I did." 

Hawkins dropped his head, shaking it back and forth as if 
to shake some new information into it. Scully caught 
Mulder's eyes and saw that he was finished. 

"Thank you Mr. Hawkins," she said gently, "we appreciate 
your coming in again. Please stay in town in case we need 
further assistance." 

"Yes, ma'am -- sir. I'll be here," the young man said as he 
darted from the room. 

************

The final interview of the morning was with the only other
person who could be called a witness to the crime. Jacob 
Seale, age 81, was accompanied to the interview by his 
daughter. He was a small but sturdy old man, slightly bent 
over, with a scruffy gray beard and equally scruffy hair. 
Wire rimmed glasses seemed to be of the wrong prescription 
as Mr. Seale squinted through them continuously. He 
appeared to be thrilled with the prospect of telling his story 
again, however, and eagerly took his seat at the table next 
to his daughter. 

"Thank you for coming in again, Mr. Seale," Scully said. 

"Oh you can call me Jacob, ma'am -- everybody does." 

"All right. Jacob, you live in the woods in the hills south 
of Elkins?" 

"That's right. The cabin has been in our family for over 
150 years. I was born in that cabin, you know." 

Scully smiled. "So you're familiar with the area. Did you 
know that two of the boys who disappeared live in houses 
in the area below your home?" 

"Levi McIntyre and Tyler Childress, yes ma'am. Ain't it 
a shame what's happened to them? The world just isn't the 
same these days, that's for sure." 

"And on the two nights in question -- August 25th and 27th -- 
you heard something unusual?" 

"That's right." Jacob leaned back in his chair and
started gesturing in the air. "I was sitting out on the 
porch, having my evening...coffee." The old man glanced 
at his daughter, who was staring at him with reproach. 
"Oh, hell, she knows it anyway. I was smoking my pipe and 
listening to the woods." 

"Listening to the woods?" 

"There's a music to the woods at night and I've learned to 
hear every note," Jacob continued. "I've never heard the likes 
of what came out of the trees those two nights, though." 

"And that was..." prompted Scully. 

"Singing, miss. Like a low flute, drifting through the 
pines. Beautiful, that's what it was." 

"Were there words to the music?" 

"Well, I can't rightly say. The...tones changed, and I 
suppose it could have been words." Jacob paused and 
began humming short phrases, as if trying to catch the flow 
of the melody. After several attempts, he shook his head. 
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I just can't get it to come back to me. 
I can tell you that it was lovely, I can surely tell you that." 
"And did you see anyone?" 

"No, nobody at all. That's not strange, though. I guess my
cabin's only a mile or so up the hill from town, but I 
rarely hear anything from there and never see a soul unless 
I come down. Funny thing, hearing that music. It put me to sleep." 

"To sleep?" Scully asked. 

"I musta dropped off right there in my chair. One minute I 
was listening to the music - the voice, I guess - and the next 
I was waking up with the sunrise. Never fallen asleep on the 
porch before in my life. I tried to stay awake the second 
night, but my eyes closed in spite of me." 

Scully asked the old man a few more questions but he had 
nothing new to tell them. She thanked him for his cooperation 
and said that he and his daughter were free to go. 

Jacob's daughter followed her father, but hesitated at the 
door. 

"You go ahead, Papa, I just need a minute," she said, 
pointing him toward the waiting area of the police station and 
turning back to the agents inside the room. 

"I don't want you to waste time on this investigation, 
Agent Scully -- Agent Mulder. You need to find those boys and 
I'm afraid my father can't be of much use to you." 

"Why do you say that?" asked Mulder. 

"He's a little `touched,' as we say here. He's not been 
right since that school bus accident and -- " 

"School bus accident?" 

"Oh, it's such history here that I forgot you wouldn't know
about it. It happened about fifteen years ago. My father 
was driving the bus for the county high school. He had about 
ten boys left to drop off and was out on one of the roads 
outside of town. Apparently, the boys were putting up a ruckus, 
more than usual, and Papa was distracted by them. He didn't 
see a bicyclist coming toward him until it was too late. He ran 
the bicyclist down as he swerved off the road. The bus flipped 
and all the boys were injured, one paralyzed." 

"What about your father?" 

"He wasn't badly hurt, but he never got over it. He loved 
those kids. He'd been driving a school bus for almost 20 years at
that point and took great pride in his job. He was let go, 
of course, and since then, he's mostly stayed up at his cabin. 
I don't know what he does with his days, but he says he's 
happy. I just don't think that you can take much stock in his 
story -- after all this time, I wouldn't be surprised if he was 
hearing things." 

Mulder seemed to mull this over for a moment then nodded 
his head. "All right, Mrs. Martin, thank you." 

Mrs. Martin nodded back and went to join her father. 

Scully could hear the wheels turning in Mulder's head. "Ten
boys on the bus," she said. 
"I don't think it's a coincidence, Scully, but I believe Jacob 
when he says heard the singing that night." 

"Perhaps he did the singing himself." 

"I don't think so, Scully. I don't think that old man is
holding nine boys at some hidden location...but he's got 
something to do with all of this. We need to find out the 
names of the boys on that bus and look for connections. 
Let's get over to the courthouse and put Len on the trail." 

**********
CHAPTER THREE


At Deborah Cavanaugh's request, Scully and Mulder joined the 
SAC and her partner for lunch at the courthouse. The two 
small restaurants on the town square had filled up after church 
services had let out, so Agent Cavanaugh arranged for take-
out. Apparently using her deductive skills on the ordering, 
she provided Kessler and Mulder with thick sandwiches and 
chips, while bringing in salads for herself and Scully.

"Dissis gread, Demb'ruh," Kessler enthused, through a mouthful 
of bread and turkey. "Thangs."

Deborah smiled at her partner. "Len, I know for a fact that 
you ate your way across I-68. How can you be this hungry?"

"Didn' take sixdy-eighd." Kessler swallowed. "Came across 
the mountains on 55. No trucks at 3am. Faster."

He caught Scully's questioning look and filled her in. 
"Midnight Selichot service at my synagogue. Never miss it. 
Next week's Rosh Hashanah, you know."

"Happy Almost New Year," offered Mulder. Scully smiled and 
nodded her agreement as her mind swirled. Agent Kessler had 
lost a night of sleep so that he could keep a commitment 
based on faith and, judging by Agent Cavanaugh's 
nonchalance, it was not a first-time occurrence. What would 
Mulder say, she thought, if she missed a meeting to attend 
Mass?

"So Mulder," Kessler said, after they were well into their 
meal, "what do you have so far besides this bus thing? Got 
it solved yet, so I can go home?" His words were teasing 
but not confrontational and Mulder took them in stride.

"I don't think this is a traditional kidnapping," Mulder began. 
"We haven't heard anything about a ransom and the 
disappearances are more like vanishings than abductions. 
The body in the woods was found purely by chance, so I 
don't think it was meant to be found so soon, and none of 
the other boys have turned up, so we're not on a clock as 
far as more murders go." 

Kessler had opened his mouth to interject at the word 
"vanishings," but closed it when it became clear that 
Mulder wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Deborah seemed 
accustomed to Mulder's run-on sentences, taking notes 
between bites of lettuce and tomato.

Mulder continued, seemingly without taking a breath.

"We're looking for a single male perpetrator, probably 
local and previously trusted, and though a criminal history 
isn't out of the question, I think our guy may be clean up 
till now. The boys are probably being held together and are 
still in this area, and the crime has been well-planned. 
We're not going to find our perp giving himself away by 
ordering out for twenty pizzas or something."

"Why kill the one boy?" Deborah asked.

"I don't know." Mulder clasped his hands behind his head 
and tilted his chair back until it was rocking on two legs. 
He looked toward the ceiling. "And the way the boys walked 
out of their homes -- that's all wrong. If they were running 
away, we'd find clothes missing, or money. I just don't 
know yet."

Cavanaugh turned to Mulder's partner. "Agent Scully."

"Dana's fine."

The SAC nodded her acceptance. "Okay - Deborah for me. This 
guy?" she gestured at her partner. "Call him Kessler, call 
him Len..." 

"Yeah, yeah," Kessler said sheepishly, "but don't call me 
late for lunch, yadda, yadda." He looked at Mulder and 
gestured at Cavanaugh with a "whaddya gonna do" expression.

Mulder held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I value this 
body and all its parts. I am not going there."

Scully turned back to Deborah and was absurdly pleased to see 
a look of sisterhood sent her way, along with a forkful of 
salad raised in salute. The SAC then refocused the 
conversation.

"Dana, what about the cause of death?"

Scully pulled out her cell phone as she answered. "The 
county medical examiner is supposed to be sending over his 
results this afternoon. Mulder and I will be interviewing 
family members so, Len, can I tell him to put your name on 
the package?"

"Sure thing." Kessler motioned toward the computer. "I'll 
be playing connect the dots with these two sets of names, 
and that'll take a while. I'll be here."

Scully stood up and walked away from the group to 
make the phone call to the hospital. As she waited through 
hold music for the morgue to pick up, she could hear Mulder 
and Deborah ribbing Len -- something about "that amazing man 
and his sci-fi machine" -- and she felt a sudden rush of loneliness.

Why, she thought, do I always find myself outside the 
camaraderie?

"Well," replied the voice on her right shoulder, the one 
she was now calling Rummage Sale, "that's one of the 
reasons to get more involved with your church."

"But these are your peers," responded the other voice -- I 
might as well call this one Fibbie, thought Scully -- "More 
than anyone, they know what you go through. Why can't you 
let down your guard with them?"

And Mulder knows most of all, Scully sighed. Knows more 
than I want him to know, knows more than anyone but God.

"God?" scoffed Rummage Sale. "It's not like you've been 
letting Him in much either."

I'm trying, Scully thought, I'm trying.

"Trying, Agent Scully? Trying what?" The county medical 
examiner sounded confused and Scully shook her head to 
bring herself back to the business at hand.

********************

As Scully and Mulder left the courthouse and began the 
quarter-mile walk from the square to the police station, 
Scully found herself uncharacteristically giving voice to her 
thoughts.

"That's quite a commitment from Agent Kessler - Len. 
Driving all night, I mean, so he could go to synagogue."

"Well, you'd do the same, Scully, if you needed to," Mulder 
replied, not missing a beat.

"Would I, Mulder?" Suddenly the words were spilling out. 
"And what would you say, really, if I told you I couldn't 
help you sort through old newspapers or fly to New Mexico 
because I wanted to be at my church? I don't recall your 
being too flexible about our trip to Florida, and you were 
glad enough to get in the way of my responsibilities for 
the sake of devil babies and haunted houses. I'm not sure 
that you understand how important the Church is to me."

Scully's pace quickened as she made her speech. She rounded 
the corner at the pharmacy and started down the block 
toward the station, heels hitting the sidewalk briskly and 
decisively. Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of 
her pocket, answering with an edge in her voice. "Scully." 

"When have I asked you to miss church for anything other 
than an assigned case?" said Mulder, his voice at once 
confused and aggrieved.

Scully stopped and turned in a full circle, realizing for 
the first time that her partner was not at her side. She 
backtracked and, going around the corner, saw Mulder 
standing ten yards away, one hand in his pocket, the other 
holding his phone to his ear.

"I.that's not what I said, Mulder. Why are you standing 
there, calling me on the phone?"

"I couldn't keep up," he said.

She sighed, pushed the off button and slid the phone back 
into her pocket as she walked back to where Mulder stood, 
his hands now in his pockets. He remained silent as she 
returned to his side, but his eyes never left hers. 
Finally, she looked away and searched for words.

"Mulder, you haven't stopped me. I'm just...I'm sorry. I have 
things on my mind and I'm letting them get in the way of 
our work. I'll stop."

She turned to make her way to the corner, but was stopped 
by Mulder's hand, large but gentle on her shoulder. He 
turned her to face him and, when she didn't look up 
immediately, he pushed a loose strand of hair behind her 
ear, tilting her head up in the same movement. His 
expression was searching, conciliatory.

"Scully, I don't want you to stop talking to me. I can be 
selfish about your time, and I am a jerk sometimes, 
assuming you'll be available whenever I need you. But if 
you tell me, really tell me, that you need to be somewhere 
else, I won't argue with you. Maybe I have, but I'll try 
not to."

His tone was earnest and Scully felt tears in her eyes. 
Mulder wasn't the problem, she knew, it was her own lack of 
dedication. Feeling ashamed, she turned again to walk away. 
She felt Mulder's hand on her elbow but instead of stopping 
her, he simply began walking beside her. She felt him 
bending slightly so that he could speak quietly into her 
ear.

"Scully, I don't know anyone with more faith than you. 
You've been through things that would have crushed beliefs 
in other people, yet you continue to trust your God and 
hear a voice that most people don't listen for anymore." 

Visions of Emily swam before her; living and alive after 
her death. She tucked her head down and kept walking, but 
Mulder persisted.

"I don't understand it, Scully, I admit that. I don't hear 
the God you hear, have the faith you have. I don't think I 
ever will. But I have faith in you, Scully. You will do what's 
right." 
He released her elbow and straightened, placing his hand 
briefly on her lower back before removing it from her 
completely. They arrived at the door of the police station, 
and Scully paused in front of the door to look up at her 
partner.

"Thank you, Mulder," she said, simply.

"Let's find these boys, Scully," he replied, as he opened 
the door.

************ 
CHAPTER FOUR


At Scully's suggestion, the interviews with the parents of 
the missing boys took place in Chief Grey's office. The padded
chairs around a small conference table with the clutter of 
the chief's desk a few feet away provided a small improvement 
over the intimidating feeling of the interrogation room.

Most of the parents behaved as expected: shocked, 
frightened, and anxious for any news. Chief Grey had noted 
that some had become more worried since learning of the FBI's 
involvement and the theory of a single kidnapper, as if the 
increasingly sensational bent of the case meant more danger for 
their sons.

Scully had anticipated that the interview with the parents 
of Ben Andrews, the murdered boy, would be the most difficult. 
As she listened to them talk, she realized that she had been 
right, but for the wrong reason.

"Your investigating is of no use to us, ma'am," Mr. Andrews
said. The tall, lanky man and his equally bony wife sat 
across the table from the FBI agents, their hands folded in their 
laps, their eyes clear. "It's as clear to us as day. The Lord Our
God is preparing us all for a mighty change and He has 
taken Reuben to be a messenger."

"A messenger," Scully repeated.

"Yes ma'am." Mr. Andrews nodded. His simple white shirt 
was buttoned all the way up and he had the look of an 
old time evangelist. "Have you not prepared for 
the new day? The day of judgment is at hand. The first age is
ending and He is coming with fury and might. My family is
prepared with shelter and food. We will pray that Reuben
watches over us, for he is surely an angel now."

"Prepared?" Scully began to feel as if she and the Andrews 
were having different conversations. 

"We cannot, of course, reveal the location of our 
sanctuary, lest it be overrun by those who panic when the Lord 
returns. But rest assured, we will be safe from the fires and 
torment and ready to do again the great work of God in the new age."

Scully opened her mouth but could find nothing to say to 
this. Mulder, however, seemed to become more alert and he sat up
slightly as he took over the questioning.

"So, Mr. Andrews, you and your family are prepared for the 
new age and now are even more solidly protected now that your 
son has become a... guardian angel?"

Mrs. Andrews looked toward the ceiling and raised both 
hands, palms up. "Our blessed angel," she whispered. She was 
completely still now; not a petal on her faded floral-print dress 
was moving.

"And your angel will watch over you in your sanctuary," 
Mulder continued. "A place you have found in which you 
will await the coming of the new millennium?"

Mr. Andrews nodded, seemingly encouraged that Mulder 
understood. "Kept sacred, sir, until the time it is needed."

"Sacred and secret - so that other people can't try to hide
there as well. People who haven't planned as well as you.
People who aren't pure in heart?"

"This is what the wicked are like," intoned Mrs. Andrews, 
still scanning the ceiling, "always carefree, they increase in
wealth."

Mulder stood up and moved towards the door. Scully caught 
his eyes and read his unspoken intention. She addressed the 
Andrews as Mulder left the room.

"We certainly thank you for your cooperation and we are 
sorry for the loss of your son. We will keep you posted on what 
we find."

Mrs. Andrews finally lowered her head and hands and made 
eye contact. "Thank you, ma'am, but our Reuben will protect us."

"We don't think you or your other children are in any 
danger-" Scully began, and then stopped, realizing that further
conversation was useless. She stood up and waited for them 
to do the same. "Thank you for coming in to talk with us."

Neither Andrews seemed to hear her as they left the room,
passing Mulder on their way out. Scully sat back down, 
suddenly feeling tired.

"Did you put a tail on them?" she asked her partner.

"Yep. I've got a team assigned for the first shift. 
Minnick and Cole will take over when they get back 
from Kumbrabow."

"What do you think?"

Mulder sat down at the table and Scully noticed for the 
first time that he had a Bible with him. "It's too obvious a lead 
not to follow up," he muttered as he opened the book to the 
back. "Damn. No concordance. I'm sure it's a Psalm."

"Psalm 73," said Scully.

Mulder glanced up and it looked to Scully as though he was 
trying to cover an amused expression. "73. Okay, then." He 
thumbed to the middle of the Bible, found the verses he wanted 
and began reading.

"This is what the wicked are like -
always carefree, they increase in wealth.
Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure;
In vain have I washed my hands in innocence.
All day long I have been plagued;
I have been punished every morning.
If I had said `I will speak thus,'
I would have betrayed your children.
When I tried to understand all this,
It was oppressive to me
Till I entered the sanctuary of God;
Then I understood their final destiny."

Scully reached for the Bible and reread the verses. She 
looked up, puzzled. "What does this have to do with the missing 
boys, Mulder?"

"Nothing overt. There is a sense of being persecuted while
being the only one who understands God's true purpose. It's
consistent with the kind of attitude our kidnapper would 
have -- not necessarily a Godly purpose, of course, but some higher
calling that only he has received."

"So you think - "

"I don't know." Mulder turned to one of the files sitting 
on the table. "The initial report says that they were at a 
church meeting when Ben disappeared from the home, but we 
have to check out this hiding place of theirs. Maybe the forensics 
on the body will provide a link - "

Mulder was interrupted by Chief Grey and Deborah Cavanaugh
entering the office.

"You know, we've got lots of caves around here, Agent 
Mulder," began Grey, as though continuing a previous conversation, 
"and I'm just wondering if our kidnapper is using one of them as 
a place to hide those boys."

Deborah picked up immediately as the chief finished. "But the
chief also tells me that the caves number in the hundreds 
and it would be impossible to search them."

The chief continued. "Now we're checking deeds to see if 
the Andrews own any land where there might be what we call 
`wild' caves, but they could just as well be hiding out on someone
else's property. We're gonna have to hope that they lead 
our officers to the location."

Scully tilted her head, thinking of something else. "What 
about the environment in one of the caves? Should we be worried 
about the boys' health?"

"Well, folks have actually lived in caves at one time or
another, Agent Scully," the chief began.

"But they are cold and damp, and many of the boys were not
properly dressed," Deborah interrupted. "If that's where they 
are - "

"Then our kidnapper has prepared for the conditions." 
Mulder's voice was calm but authoritative. "This wasn't done on a 
whim. It's been well-planned. This guy won't be caught off guard 
by the environment."

There was a pause in the conversation and Scully felt 
everyone take a breath.

Deborah broke the silence.

"Dana, the Medical Examiner's report has arrived over at 
the courthouse. Len took the liberty of skimming it and says 
that he doesn't see any useful forensic results, but of course, 
we want you to do a detailed review and give us your opinion."

Scully looked down at the one remaining folder on the 
table.

"We've got one more interview, Deborah, and then I'll get 
over there."

"Great. I'll tell him."

Chief Grey followed the SAC out of the room, adding as he 
left, "I'll send Mr. Lightner on in then."

Scully glanced at the Lightner file. Judd Lightner, Jr. was
another one of the boys who had disappeared from his home. 
His father, Judd Lightner, Sr., was a single parent to his son
and a twelve-year old daughter.

Chief Grey reappeared in the doorway with a tall, heavyset 
man with long greasy hair. Mr. Lightner was dressed in paint-
splotched overalls and his large hands appeared to be
permanently stained and calloused.

"Mr. Lightner," the chief began, "these are the people from 
the FBI, Agents Mulder - "

"I know who they are," the father growled. "Just two more 
folks to tell me that they don't know what happened to my boy. I
already answered all your questions, and now you get me out 
of the shop to come down here and it's not gonna do any good, 
so what's the point?"

"You work on Sunday?" Mulder asked quietly from his chair.

"Hell, yes, I work Sunday and every other damn day of my 
life. I got kids to support."

Mulder gestured toward the chair near Mr. Lightner and the 
man sat down, obviously with some reluctance. Chief Grey
disappeared.

"We've reviewed the notes of the officers from the night of 
your son's disappearance," Mulder began, "so we won't trouble 
you to go over that again."

"You got that right."

"We are interested in whether you know of any other men in 
your son's life, someone who might be able to influence him - "

"What the hell?" Mr. Lightner was up and out of his chair,
pointing his finger at Mulder. "You talking about my boy 
being a queer? Look here, Mister FBI know-it-all-"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a minister or 
teacher," Mulder replied, seemingly unfazed by this display. 
"Someone your son respects and learns from."

The large man stopped in mid-gesture and lowered his hand.
"Well there ain't nobody like that. I influence my boy. He
looks to me. Nobody else."

"But surely at school --" Scully said.

"My boy goes to school `cause the law says he has to, but 
every other minute he's with me and his sister. He comes to the 
shop and works with me, then we go home. School, work, home. 
That's all he's gotta do."

"But he has friends." Scully tried again.

"He don't need friends and acquaintances." Mr. Lightner's 
voice took on a sarcastic quality. "His momma had friends and
acquaintances. They all got her thinking and dreaming and 
she decided she was bored with this old town and went off to 
find new friends and acquaintances."

"Mr. Lightner." Mulder leaned forward.

"This is all crap." He pushed his chair out of the way and
backed toward the door. "You all aren't gonna find my boy. 
His mother's come in and grabbed him, that's what. Either that 
or he's done some fool thing and gotten himself killed. Either
way, you can't help me and I got no use for you."

With that pronouncement, Mr. Judd Lightner, Sr. left the 
room.

"So..." Scully glanced at her partner.

"So...he's a pain in the ass but not who we're looking for. 
He wants less company, not more."

"I agree." Scully sighed and stood up. "I'm going over to 
the courthouse and look over the autopsy report. Deborah wants to
meet for dinner over at the Elkins Tavern at 7pm."

"Ooh," Mulder smiled. "I love it when my SAC springs for a 
good meal. Did you see the ad in the lobby of the motel?"

"Mulder, homemade cinnamon rolls are not a proper dinner."

"Scully, I'm hurt. I'll have a balanced surf and turf."

Scully shook her head and closed her eyes. She opened them 
to find Mulder grinning at her.

"Okay, Mulder, so what are you doing to do until then?"

"I'll be here, working on the profile. Plus, I want to
talk to Minnick and Cole before they take over the Andrews
surveillance."

"Okay, then. See you at seven."

"Yup."
****** 

7:20pm

Scully was sitting with Deborah and Len in the Tavern 
restaurant adjacent to the motel when Mulder arrived. 
Pulling out his chair and sitting down, he nodded at the other 
team and turned to his partner. "Eat fast, Scully, we've got an 
appointment."

"What? Where?"

"The First United Methodist Church of Elkins. Sunday 
evening prayer meeting lets out at eight, and we're gonna talk 
with the Reverend Krueger."

"I thought he was coming in tomorrow," said Deborah, referring 
to the leader of the church from which the camping trip had
originated.

"He called just after you left, while I was finishing my 
notes. He's got to leave tonight for another church. A funeral -- 
he's been asked to officiate. He wanted to be sure we got 
whatever information we needed, so he asked if we could 
come by tonight. So get some rabbit food, Scully, `cause we've 
got to leave in a half an hour."

Scully looked at her menu and gave a little pout. She 
looked up, smiling, to see Deborah and Len joining her in the joke.
There you go, she thought. That's better.

"Hey you two, don't worry about a thing. Order anything you
want, and I'll save it for you," announced Len.

"Agent Kessler," his SAC said with mock seriousness, "lying 
to your fellow agents will put you in front of the disciplinary 
committee. Agent Scully, don't leave any food in his care. 
It will be gone before you get out the door."

Len shook his head. "Deborah, I don't know how Maggie puts up
with you."

"My partner," Deborah said to Mulder and Scully in 
explanation. "She's a jazz singer in D.C."

"And a woman who knows how to have fun and eat well," Len
continued. "If it weren't for certain impediments - "

"Like your wife," Deborah interjected, obviously familiar 
with this speech.

"--I'd take her. I'd be free-spirited, epicurean..."

"Female," added Deborah, and they all laughed at the image.

"Okay, okay. I give. Let's eat!" Len signaled the waiter.

**************

In the car on the way to the church, Scully thought about 
the sense of cooperation and interplay that she and Mulder were
enjoying with Agents Cavanaugh and Kessler. They had worked
well with other agents in the past, but she couldn't 
remember a time when that had included sharing meals and 
laughter and personal information. On the other hand, she had 
never felt quite as receptive to it as she did on this case.

She hadn't mentioned it to Mulder, but before she had gone 
to the Tavern, she had made a stop in her motel room and 
pulled out the Gideon Bible from the bedside chest. She had turned
immediately to Psalm 73, though the words for which she 
searched -- several verses past the ones she and Mulder had 
read -- were already memorized.

"Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
And afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
But God is the strength of my heart
And my portion forever."

As Mulder steered them back toward the center of town, 
Scully thought back to a meeting she'd had with Father McCue after
Roberta Dyer's death. Her confession had not quelled the
misgivings and questions and renewed grief that she'd felt 
after releasing Roberta -- and Emily -- into the bright light at 
the back of that small church. 
Father McCue had listened patiently to her description of the 
event, and to her story of Kevin Kryder. Why, she had asked him, 
do I find myself at the center of such events?

She had lost her carefully held control that day, quiet 
tears giving way to sobs. Father McCue had come around his desk 
with a box of tissues to sit next to her, holding her hand but
letting her cry. When she was wiping the last sniffles 
away, he had begun to speak.

"Dana, what I sense is that you are afraid that you are not
prepared for these moments, for the times when God calls on 
you. That it has been only through unexplainable circumstances 
that you have been able to complete whatever task He has given.

"I think that there are ways in which you can feel more
connected to God, ways in which you can prepare yourself 
for the challenges you face. All you really need to know, though, 
is that God is always beside you, guiding your actions. Let me
show you a psalm that may help you understand and then, 
let's pray together."

The psalm Father McCue had shown her was the 73rd. 
Now, as Mulder pulled up to the curb in front of the church, she
repeated the words to herself and found that she felt 
centered. 

She turned to look at her partner and discovered that they 
were having another one of those moments. His eyes held her in a
gentle embrace which was comforting in its own right. She
didn't look away.

*********** 
CHAPTER FIVE


Reverend Ben Krueger showed them through the sanctuary 
of the First United Methodist Church with obvious pride. 
It was a beautiful place. Tall stained glass windows rose up 
on either side of the pews and an intricately-carved railing 
with a kneeling bench curved around the front of the altar. 
The same woodwork was evident on the front of the
pulpit and on the communion table, as well as in the rail
between the altar and choir loft. A large cross hung on the
wall in back of the choir benches.

It was to each side of the altar that Scully's attention 
was drawn, however. Two brilliantly colored banners framed the
altar area. On the left, yellow and orange and red fabric
created a shining sun below which black letters proclaimed 
"He is the light of the world." On the right, blues and greens
predominated to form a stream in a wood. Its letters read
"Shall we gather at the river."

Reverend Krueger noticed her admiration. "Aren't they 
lovely?" he said. "Two of our circles - women's groups," 
he added at Mulder's questioning look, "sewed these last year 
and everyone has commented on how they've added to our 
worship." 
Her mother was a member of a woman's group at her parish, 
Scully thought. The woman's group was sponsoring the 
rummage sale...She shook her head ruefully. The tenacity 
of guilt was an amazing thing.

The Reverend continued their tour. The sanctuary was two 
floors high but the large front doors off the town square led 
into an area that had a lower ceiling. Mulder and Scully followed 
the minister up the stairs to the second floor. There they 
found several small rooms for Sunday School on one side of the 
hall, one of which occupied by a group that could be seen 
laughing and talking through the small window in the door. 
"Bible Study," their tour guide explained. On the other side of the 
hall were entrances to the balcony at the back of the sanctuary.

Back down the stairs, this time going past the first floor,
Reverend Krueger led them to the basement level of the 
church. "This is our fellowship hall and kitchen area," he 
explained. "It's also where the youth groups meet, including the 
one that Luke and Chad and Bobby and Mark were a part of."

The large open area was empty, save for a lone figure who 
was mopping the floor. Tables and chairs had been pushed to the
sides of the room and it was evident that about half the task was 
completed. As the minister led his guests into the room, the man 
with the mop looked up and smiled broadly.

"Joe, come on over here," Reverend Krueger called out. Joe
propped his mop against the bucket and came toward them. He
walked with an obvious limp and, as he approached, Scully 
noted his right hand, clenched in a fist and twisted up and 
inward at the wrist. 

"Joe, these are Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI. 
They're here to find the boys."

Joe expression turned sorrowful, but he did not speak. 
"I know, I know, you love them too. This is a good thing.
These people will help us get them back."

Joe brightened slightly and nodded. He extended his left 
hand to Mulder who reached out his own left hand with 
only the briefest hesitation.

"Good to meet you, Joe. Do you mind if I call you Joe?"

Joe looked at the Reverend, who quickly interjected.

"Joe is my brother, Agent Mulder. He's not able to speak 
due to an injury many years ago. He can answer your questions 
with a yes or no, however."

"That's all right, Reverend. Joe, you go back to what you 
were doing. We'll come talk with you later if we need some 
more information. Okay?" Mulder glanced at Scully to see if she 
was in agreement and she nodded her head. Joe waved at them 
with a smile and returned to his work.

Back in his office, part of a group of rooms behind the 
altar, Reverend Krueger showed them to two comfortable 
chairs and offered them coffee from a coffeemaker behind his 
desk.

"I can't tell you what a shock this incident has been to 
the community. It is normally very quiet around here, one year 
not much different from another."

"Except for the bus accident fifteen years ago," said 
Mulder.

"Oh you've heard about that? Well, I'm not surprised. 
Then you know that Joe was the bicyclist that got hit -- 
that's how he was injured. And poor Jacob Seale -- 
I'm afraid he never recovered from it emotionally."

"Were any of the boys who were on the bus that day 
relatives of the boys that are missing now?" Mulder asked.

The Reverend looked thoughtful. "Oh...let's see...well, 
Chris Sanders had an older brother who was on that bus. 
That's a big family."

"We met the parents this morning," Scully told him.

The Reverend looked up as if searching interior files. "And 
Stu Campbell - he's the one who was paralyzed -- is a second-
cousin, I think, to Dan Campbell. Do you really think there's 
some connection?"

"We have to look at all the possibilities," Mulder 
answered.

Scully smiled inwardly, wondering how many times she had 
heard her partner say those words.

"Well, I'll check the church records and see if I can find 
any other connections for you. You might also check with Millie
over at the courthouse. She's got all the birth certificates
and such."

"Did you know that your youth minister has a juvenile 
record?"

Mulder changed the subject abruptly and got the desired
response.

"Did I know -- what? Matt Rust? A record?"

"It's sealed, but yes, he does have something in his past."

"I had no idea. What did he do?"

Mulder refrained from telling the Reverend that he had 
guessed at the presence of a record. "That's confidential, 
I'm afraid. Have you had any doubts about him in his work 
here?"

The Reverend still seemed shaken. "No, not a one. He's 
worked hard, established a good rapport with the kids -- 
girls as well as boys," he added, looking directly at Mulder 
so as to convey that he found this an important piece of information. 
"We've never had a complaint or even a hint of trouble. I've had 
both the youth and the parents comment on his excellent work. 
Oh dear."

Reverend Krueger seemed to drift off into thoughts of staff
firings and lawsuits and other concerns of the modern-day
church. Mulder stood and gestured for Scully to join him.

"Thank you for your time, Reverend Krueger. You'll be back 
in town on Tuesday?"

The Reverend looked up and nodded. "Yes. Oh, but I hope you 
will have found them by then."

"So do we, Reverend."

******** 

10:15pm
Elkins Motor Lodge

Scully unlocked her door, opened it and walked part 
way through, turning as she did to wish Mulder good night. 
He passed her and flopped down on the couch before she 
got the first syllable out of her mouth.

"I know you said that the forensics on Ben Andrews didn't 
turn up anything."

With a small smile, Scully shook her head and closed the 
door. She answered him as she crossed to the desk and chair 
by the window and sat down.

"It's a very thorough report, Mulder. Ben Andrews has all 
the classic signs of being smothered. There are no puncture 
wounds on his body, no toxins in his system. He has bruises on 
his arms and legs that are consistent with a struggle. The 
Medical Examiner did a comprehensive examination for trace 
evidence and everything was consistent with the environment of his 
home or the forest where his body was found."

"A murder doesn't fit his profile, Scully. It doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe Ben was making too much noise in the place where the 
boys are being held."

"The perp planned this, Scully; he isn't worried about 
noise."

"Well maybe something happened that he didn't plan. Or 
maybe Ben tried to escape and was caught outside the hiding 
place."

"This guy isn't that careless." 

We've had this argument a hundred times, Scully thought. I 
can even hear his next words.

"How often have I been wrong, Scully?"

Bingo.

"Mulder, it's late and it's been a long day. Let's run the 
theories by Deborah and Len in the morning."

"Maybe the puncture isn't in an immediately visible - "

"Mulder."

"Okay, okay." Mulder stood and held up his hands in 
acquiescence. "Tired, bed, goodnight Mulder. Sure I can't 
talk you into a run?"

"Mulder.."

"'Night, Scully." He went backwards out the door, poking 
his head through until the last possible moment. Scully fancied 
that she could see his grin, cheshire-cat like, hanging in 
mid-air even after the door clicked shut.

*********** 
September 6
Monday
7:30am

Elkins County Courthouse

Len plopped into a chair at the table with Deborah, Scully 
and Mulder.

"Okay, that's the last team out. So we've got officers 
covering school classmates, the rest of the youth group, 
and any other kid who might know about a connection between 
our missing boys and the boys on that bus, or Matt Rust and 
any possible proclivities on his part."

Len caught Scully before she could comment.

"Yeah, I know that the juvie record turned out to be drug-
related, not sex crimes, but it can't hurt to check."

Scully closed her mouth and smiled her agreement.

"How's the computer program doing on the connections with 
the bus accident?" Deborah asked.

"We've got only one name connection and three pairs of 
relatives. Now there's one other possible, but it's pretty 
weak. Six of our current missing boys had the same 
physician - a ... Wayne Lansing, M.D. Five of the boys 
on the bus? Same doc. But this is a pretty small community 
and it's probably just coincidence."

"Maybe," Deborah responded, "but we're over a week past the 
first disappearance and almost seventy-two hours after the 
discovery of a dead victim and we've got squat. I'll follow any 
lead we can." She turned to Scully. "Dana, how about you check 
on Dr. Lansing? Give him the professional-to-professional 
treatment and see if anything slips out."

Scully nodded and scanned the printout Len handed her. 
"Okay, both his home and office are within walking 
distance." She caught Len looking at her high chunky heels and 
shaking his head in amazement. "I'll take my cell phone and come 
back here after I'm through."

"Mulder?" Deborah turned to her third agent.

"I've got the profile as complete as I can with what I 
know. I want to get out there and see some of the homes, 
talk to a few people. I especially want to go up to Jacob Seale's 
place and have a look around." 

"Okay. Keep in touch, though. I'll coordinate our teams, 
make sure they keep moving as well as reporting in to Len. 
We've got to get a break, and I don't want it to be another dead 
boy." Deborah's expression was grim.

Everyone rose from the table. Len moved to the computer, 
Deborah went to a corner of the room where an "office" had been 
created for her with a blackboard as a divider. Scully headed for 
the door.

"Hey Scully."

Mulder caught up and walked up the stairs with her into the 
morning light of the town square.

"You're sure about that autopsy report, Scully? The county 
medical examiner covered everything?"

"Yes, Mulder, I'm sure."

"Okay then. I'll see you later today."

They each turned, Mulder toward the car at the curb, Scully 
in the opposite direction toward the second floor doctors' 
offices on the next block.

******************

"Nothing, huh? Damn it." Deborah looked discouraged.

"You're welcome to follow up," Scully told her, "but I 
didn't hear any alarm bells go off when I talked to him. 
He seems appropriately concerned about the missing boys 
and was open to talking about the bus accident. When I asked 
him about his current patient list, he gave me everything he could, 
within the limits of confidentiality, then phoned the physician who 
treats the other four boys and gave me an introduction."

"Sounds like a dead end."

"Yeah, I think so. What - "

Scully's question was interrupted by the ringing of her 
cell phone. She put up one finger in a "wait a second" gesture 
to Deborah and turned away as she pulled the phone out of her 
pocket.

"Scully."

"Scullybutt!"

"Wha -- Craig?"

"You've given someone else permission to use that name? I 
think not."

"Craig, what's up? I haven't heard from you since that 
Delaware River case last year." Scully laughed, surprised but 
pleased to hear from Craig Reskin, a pathologist at Quantico. 
"Thank you, by the way, for pulling me off manure duty for a week."

"Don't mention it. I just thought I'd call and see if you 
want to have some lunch."

"Lunch? I can't, Craig, I'm in West Virginia."

"So am I."

"What?" Scully pulled the phone away from her ear and 
looked at it, as though the digital display was a homing beacon 
for her former colleague.

"Let's see, there's that lovely little tea room on the 
square, across from the courthouse. I saw it when I drove through. 
Just your sort of thing, Scullybutt. Can we meet at noon?"

"Craig, what are you doing here?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"You really don't know?"

"No, I don't." Scully felt the first tinge of irritation 
and suddenly felt as if she could hear a sunflower seed 
being cracked nearby.

Craig sounded uncomfortable. "Um, why don't we make that 
an early lunch. I'll meet you at the tea room in...how about ten 
minutes?"

"Good idea, Craig. I'll see you there."

Scully flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into her 
pocket. She walked across the room and around the 
blackboard into Deborah's "office."

"Deborah, I have to go out for a while. A colleague that I've 
asked to consult with has arrived - Craig Reskin from 
Quantico. You know him, don't you?"

Deborah looked startled. "Sure, I do. What's up? Did you find 
something new in the autopsy notes?"

"Just wanted to be sure, Deborah. Like you said, we need any 
lead we can get."

"Well that's certainly a true statement. Let me know what 
Craig thinks."

"Will do."

Scully turned and walked toward the door, feeling her neck 
and shoulders tense with every step. Mulder, she thought, 
what the hell have you done? 

************** 

CHAPTER SIX


The tea room had not yet filled with lunch customers at 
10:45, so Scully and Craig were able to take their pick of 
tables. The owner of the small restaurant obviously had been
to a larger city recently, as the tea room had begun to take on 
some of the characteristics of a coffee bar. A small 
seating area with comfortable antique furniture took up 
part of one wall, and the blackboard behind the counter 
listed several trendy coffee drinks along with herbal and 
traditional teas.

Scully and Craig chose a table by the front window, in the 
corner. Scully ordered English Breakfast tea and Craig 
asked for a Cafe Macchiatto, prompting a teasing look from 
his companion. Craig propped his elbow on the table and 
rested his chin in his hand. 

"So, I never mind surprising you, Scullybutt, but I get the 
feeling you aren't too happy about this."

"If this is what I think it is, no, I'm not." Scully raised 
one eyebrow and stared at her colleague. Craig had been 
her closest friend at work during her time at Quantico. More 
than one colleague had done a double take as the short, pale 
redhead and the tall black man with the shoulders of a weight lifter 
had walked through the halls side by side. She could read his 
expression and knew that he was genuinely puzzled. 

"Mulder called you. He wants another opinion on the Ben 
Andrews autopsy."

"Yes."

What bothered Scully wasn't that Mulder had trusted Craig. 
The two of them had worked together for several years in 
Behavioral Science and Violent Crimes. They were a mutual 
admiration society. Craig was the one who had told Scully 
most of what she'd known about Mulder before she'd joined 
the X-files.

It was that Mulder hadn't trusted her.

"And have you reviewed the findings?" Scully's voice was 
calm, but she was fidgeting, changing positions every few 
seconds.

"I haven't even started yet, Dana. I called you first 
thing. I just assumed Mulder had phoned instead of you because 
you were busy last night."

Scully decided to save her growing irritation for its 
proper target. "Craig, I'll tell you what. Let's just 
forget about how you got here, and go over to the hospital 
and take a look at Ben Andrews' body."

"Fine by me." Craig looked relieved. "Do I get some lunch 
first?"

Scully grinned for the first time since leaving the 
courthouse. 

"Sure. You can fill me in on all the Quantico gossip. "

"Yeah, right," Craig grinned. "You just want to know how 
Sarah Hawkins finally wore me down."

Scully put her forearms on the table and leaned forward, 
head tilted. "Oh my. Do tell."

***********

9:30pm
Elkins Motor Lodge

The door to Mulder's room opened, but Scully and Craig were 
greeted only by the palm of his hand and his back as he 
walked away from the door, cellphone to his ear.

"Len, I'm telling you, there is a connection. We just 
haven't found it yet."

Scully moved to the table and chairs by the window and 
Craig followed, both of them watching Mulder pace on the 
other side of the room as they sat down.

"Look, Matt Hawkins said he heard words with the music - 
`come home' and...`wait'....no, `waiting today.' Maybe 
there's a home town association between the boys on the bus 
and the ones missing."

He paused, then ran his hand through his hair, which was 
already a spiky mess.

"Yeah, I know they're probably all from here, Len. It's 
thin. Do what you can, okay? Thanks."

Mulder clicked off and turned to them. His expression 
hardly changed but Scully, with six years experience behind 
her, saw every emotion as it crossed his face.

Happiness, at seeing her.

Surprise, at seeing Craig.

Uh oh. Busted.

Defensiveness.

Curiosity.

After hearing the frustration in his voice during his phone 
conversation, Scully wasn't surprised to see that last 
emotion win out.

"What did you find? Something besides suffocation?"

Craig smiled and stood up. "Hi Craig, Great to see you. 
Thanks for coming all this way. Didn't have any trouble 
with your AD, did you? Good. Gee, it's late, you must have 
worked all day. Want something to drink?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and smiled, extending his hand.

"Craig. Great to see you. Thanks for coming all this way. 
If you want a drink, you'll have to call room service."

"Wow, it's downright spooky how you read my mind like 
that," Craig laughed as he shook Mulder's hand. 

Scully decided to break up the reunion party and held a 
file folder up, waving it back and forth to get Mulder's 
attention. He and Craig nodded their heads and both sat 
down at the table.

"Ben Andrews was suffocated, Mulder," she began without 
preamble. "Cyanosis, petechial hemorrhages, edema on the 
face, tongue and larynx."

She paused, hoping in a childish way that Mulder might have 
one moment of contrition at her words. She saw, however, 
that Mulder had already seen whatever he needed to in her 
face and was waiting for the punch line. She decided not 
to drag it out.

"But before he was suffocated, he apparently suffered 
convulsions as the result of camphor poisoning."

Mulder might have looked triumphant, but instead seemed 
confused.

"Camphor poisoning? Camphor as in `cold remedy?'"

Craig answered. "Camphor is actually a very dangerous 
substance. Just a teaspoon, if it's ingested by a child, 
can lead to convulsions and death."

"Why didn't the Medical Examiner catch this? If Ben 
Andrews was poisoned, why was he suffocated? How do you 
know it was camphor poisoning?"

Scully waited for Mulder's questions, knowing he was 
thinking out loud and would eventually give them a chance 
to explain. Craig leaned back and crossed his arms; 
apparently he was also used to Mulder's routine.

Mulder had stood up and was now pacing the room as he 
mumbled.

"Okay, Ben somehow ingested the camphor and went into 
convulsions. The violence of this was unexpected, 
something the kidnapper hadn't planned. He probably tried 
to hold him down, maybe tried to quiet him."

Mulder glanced at Scully, remembering their conversation 
the night before.

"...maybe he was trying to stop the convulsions. Whatever 
the reason, the suffocation was not deliberate or planned. 
That explains why we have one dead boy when murder is not 
the motive. But...ten boys on the bus...he needs ten boys."

Mulder's pacing and talking wound down and he sat on the 
edge of the queen-sized bed, elbows on his knees, hands 
clasped in front of him. Scully took the opportunity to 
fill him in.

"Camphor isn't something the medical examiner would 
normally look for, Mulder. We didn't find any signs of 
anything but suffocation ourselves."

Craig jumped in.

"But your partner is one persistent investigator, Spooky. 
Me, I try not to smell too much when I'm cutting. Scully? 
She's sniffing everything. Of course the body's already 
sewn back up, and we're mostly looking at paraffin sections 
and photographs. Your partner, though, says she wants to 
see the kid's clothes. The medical examiner gets all huffy 
and says oh, I've checked those Dr. Scully, and examined 
them for trace evidence, and there's nothing there, and 
Scullybu-" 

Craig paused abruptly when Scully glared at him.

"...and Scully says, I'm sure you've been very thorough and 
won't you please indulge me, and the ME gets all gooey at 
the Scully charm and gets the clothes."

Mulder remained still.

"So Scully takes the clothes and looks them over and, like 
I said, she starts sniffing. And, voila! Camphor. Pretty 
faint, but unmistakable. So we examine the mouth and 
throat tissue, do new labs and there you go."

Scully picked up the story.

"Looking at the bruises, we concluded that although they 
could be the result of a struggle, they were actually 
slightly more consistent with a seizure. I don't know why 
Ben was suffocated when the camphor ingestion would likely 
have killed him, but your theory, Mulder, is one possible 
explanation."

With Craig and Scully finished, the room was silent for 
several moments. Scully's gaze had not left Mulder, while 
Mulder's eyes had not wavered from the carpet below his 
feet. Craig looked from one to the other and stood up.

"Well, I got up at 4:30 this morning to join this party, 
and I'm beat. I'll stick around till tomorrow afternoon, 
in case you need anything."

As Craig moved toward the door, Scully broke her silence 
and got up, walking to the door with him. "Thanks for all 
your help, Craig. I'll give you a call in the morning, 
okay?"

After closing the door behind him, Scully turned and leaned 
against it, staring once again at Mulder. She felt certain 
that he knew she was looking at him, but he did not look 
up. When she spoke, the tension in her voice belied her 
words.

"Well, it seems I owe you an apology, Mulder. You were 
right, there was something to be found that the Medical 
Examiner missed."

Mulder spoke without looking up. "Scully - "

"But what I don't understand is how you could put me in 
this position, embarrass me, by calling in another 
pathologist. I admire Craig as much as you do, Mulder, but 
this is my case, my job. What were you thinking?"

Mulder looked up at her briefly, then back down at the 
floor.

Scully continued to speak the thoughts that had been 
accumulating all day.

"Yes, I assured you that the ME's report was complete. 
Yes, I repeated that assurance this morning. But that's my 
job, Mulder, that's what you want me to do, isn't it? 
That's what you expect of me, to challenge your theories? 
If you felt this certain, why didn't you insist? You 
didn't. You just called Craig. In fact, you called him 
last night, after just one conversation with me. I don't 
get it, Mulder. I did my job and you insulted me."

At this, Mulder looked up again, but this time he didn't 
look away. 

"You know, Mulder, you say that my science is wrong and 
that alien life does exist. You say that you're right ninety-
eight percent of the time and that I should give you the 
benefit of the doubt." To her own astonishment, Scully's 
voice began to shake. "I'm just not sure what my role in 
this partnership is these days. I'm not sure that you need 
me anymore."

She stopped and broke eye contact. Now she was the one 
looking down at her feet.

Mulder paused and Scully couldn't tell if he was 
considering her words, gathering his thoughts, or both. 
She took a deep breath, focusing on slowing her heartbeat.

Mulder's voice, quiet but firm, broke her concentration.

"Scully, I'm sorry I called Craig. It was wrong. I don't 
know if you can understand this, but...Scully, I just 
didn't want to fight anymore."

Scully looked up, startled. "Mulder, it's not a fight when 
we argue the merits of a case."

Mulder stood up and began pacing the room again.

"No, it's not. And when we debate cause and motivation and 
probability, it benefits us both. Scully, your science -- 
your intelligence -- have made our investigations work. 
The answers make sense when you present them." 

Scully raised an eyebrow. Mulder saw it and tipped his 
head in acknowledgement. 

"Well, at least they make more sense than what I say. The 
point is, Scully, that our debates can and do result in our 
solving cases. But sometimes..."

"Sometimes?" she prompted, surprising herself. Mulder 
seemed to be narrowing in on something; getting to the 
heart of the matter. Did she want him to?

"Sometimes it just seems like your arguments come not from 
curiosity or a desire to know, but from some need you have 
to disagree with me. And if I turn out to be right, it 
seems to upset you in a way I can't understand. Think 
about the Pinkus case, Scully."

"The Pinkus case?" She was puzzled for a moment. "The 
zombie bugs? That was two years ago. What about it?"

"You came to see me in the hospital. I asked you to look 
at Backus' body again and you told me I was deluded."

Scully caught up, and immediately felt defensive.

"But I did look again. And I came back and saved your ass 
from whatever came into your room."

"Yes, you did. But look what happened afterwards. Do you 
remember when you came out of Skinner's office after giving 
your report? Do you remember what you said to me?"

Scully stared at him. "Folie a deux. A madness shared by 
two."

Mulder stared back. "Scully, you looked...and you sounded 
...Well, I know when I'm in the doghouse and I was 
definitely eating Alpo. And why? Because you saw what 
Pinkus was and you didn't want to?"

Mulder's pacing led him toward the door and he stood in 
front of her.

"I saved your life in Antarctica, you know -- and ever 
since then you just seem angry about what I say happened. 
I can't help what I saw, Scully. I can't help what I know."

She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. Aside from 
reciting the few facts she remembered, she had never talked 
to Mulder about her experience in Antarctica, or the 
nightmares that still plagued her. She didn't know how to 
start now. She didn't know if she wanted to.

Mulder walked away abruptly, head down. He ran his hand 
through his hair yet again.

"Oh, that's not what I mean, Scully. I'm not explaining 
myself well."

She waited. He reached the other side of the room and 
turned, leaning against the opposite wall. The intensity 
of his eyes, however, made it seem as though he were still 
standing next to her.

"Scully, if you honestly disagree with me, I want to hear 
it. I do. I need to hear it. Until you and I became 
partners, I was all over the place. I knew I had to 
investigate the X-Files; I knew the truth was in there. 
But I leapt from one case to another, spouting my theories 
to the walls of the basement and never really finishing 
anything. You made the X-files real. You made sure we 
finished things, found answers that we could present to our 
bosses. If you hadn't come along, despite my connections, 
how long would I have lasted?"

As had happened in a hallway almost a year ago, Scully felt 
her eyes fill with tears. 

"But sometimes when you argue with me now, Scully, it's 
like you're telling me that if I'm right, it will ruin some 
important piece of you. I can't stand that, Scully. This 
work has taken far too much from you already. More than 
anyone should be able to bear.

"But you have weathered it, with some incredible inner 
strength and faith. And if you tell me that I'm chipping 
away at that -- at the one thing you can count on -- well, I 
can't do it, Scully. I can't stand it when you look at me 
like that."

Mulder suddenly looked away, off to the side.

"And if you think that the only reason I want you around is 
so you can provide some alternate viewpoint to my 
speculations.that the only reason I ask you to follow me 
around to haunted houses and desert military installations 
is for your reasoning and science...If you think..."

He faltered and then stopped speaking altogether. His 
shoulders slumped and he seemed exhausted suddenly. 

Scully stood frozen by the door. The carefully constructed 
dam within her heart had previously only sprung small, 
easily-repaired leaks. It now began to crumble and the 
rush of emotions, coming from places too numerous to count 
or plug, made her want to fold in upon herself, arms over 
her head, and wait for the flood to pass her or swallow her 
up. 

But the waters were all hurtling toward one particular 
place and she could see, in the distance, that once there, 
they would dissipate in a haven of warmth and comfort. She 
need only let go and flow there with them. Could she? 

She tried to speak and found that she couldn't while 
looking at her partner. So she turned and placed her hand 
on the doorknob, knowing she would need an escape once the 
question was out. Staring at the handle in her hand, she 
tried again.

"Mulder? Did you mean what you said to me in the hospital 
after the Queen Anne?"

There was a pause, which was broken by Mulder's voice, 
strong and sure.

"Yes, Scully, I did."

The dam was collapsing and she couldn't face the panic in 
her heart. She opened the door and fled down the hall.

*************

CHAPTER SEVEN


11:30pm

Scully lay in bed, staring at a narrow slit of light that 
bisected her bathroom door. Turning over, she looked in 
exasperation at the gap in her curtains that allowed the 
parking lot lights to invade the darkness of her room. How 
was someone supposed to get to sleep when the curtains 
wouldn't close?

Her silk pajamas were comfortable, the blanket was 
surprisingly nice for a motel, and she had followed her 
nighttime ritual to the letter, but now she lay awake and 
she knew that, at this rate, she would get no sleep at all.

Cold. I'm cold.

I can't move. I can't feel my arms or legs. There's 
something in my throat...and I'm so cold. What's happening? 
Oh God, help me, please...Help me!

The memories came at her like an unexpected gunshot. Her 
muscles jerked and a moan escaped her before she could 
brace herself and take a calming breath. 

She'd never told him. She'd never told him that she'd been 
conscious in that pod; that her suspended animation hadn't 
spared her from feeling raw fear and panic. She'd never 
told him that when his shadow had darkened the already dim 
light beyond her prison, she had dared to hope, dared to 
imagine that he had found her; and that when he had lowered 
her into his parka, she'd nearly let go of life in her relief to be 
safe in his arms.

She'd never shared any of this with Mulder. To tell him 
would have been to relive that horror and she could not -- 
would not -- do that. She had grabbed hold of her science 
as a shield; focusing on microscopic particles rather 
than an enormous, incomprehensible evil. He'd been hurt and 
angry, and she'd spent months trying to build a new bridge 
between them: one that would avoid dark corners and 
unguarded emotions.

Father McCue hadn't needed to know details. He had 
accepted her brief allusion to a traumatic experience 
related to her work and had counseled her from there. So 
she spent time with him, comforted by her faith in a God 
who already knew her heart and didn't have to be told the 
horrible details.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for;
the evidence of things not seen."

Father McCue had intended the verse from Hebrews as a 
comfort on the day he'd shared it with her, she knew that. 
But the words held many meanings for her. As the verse 
came back to her, so did the uncertainty. She pulled the 
blanket up around her chin and batted at her pillow, trying 
to find safe shelter in her motel room bed.

She had faith in God, whose hand in her life was a 
constant, living presence. 

Other matters were more complicated.

There was "the truth," as Mulder referred to it, for 
example. Mulder lived by faith in seeking the truth; certain 
that alien life was living and fighting on this planet. As 
frightening as the consequences of that belief were, 
he did hope to discover the substance, the evidence.

Her hope was personal: to find the people who had violated 
her, robbed her, and make them pay. But if Mulder was 
right, she was trying to do it without looking for the whole 
truth.

She shook her head into the pillow. This was old news, a 
never-ending debate. Mulder was right: when they 
argued for the sake of the case, they both did better work, 
but when they reacted out of habit, out of fear...

"...the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things 
not seen."

Mulder was hoping for something else now, and he had 
been for longer than she wanted to admit. He wanted to go 
beyond the carefully constructed boundaries of their relationship. 
He was complicating things, keeping her from being able to focus 
on the cases, on her commitments to Father McCue and her 
family.

Turning back to face the bathroom and wrestling with the 
covers, she heard her inner voices start the debate again. 
She had managed to shut them out until now, but fatigue had 
lowered her defenses and Rummage Sale and Fibbie were back.

"You see? He is getting in the way of what you need. He 
admitted it himself." Rummage Sale didn't sound as 
victorious as she expected, just resigned.

"But he doesn't want to," replied Fibbie. "He respects 
your faith, he wants you to have it."

"Funny way of showing it," grumbled Rummage Sale.

"How? By being honest with you? He just put himself on 
the line tonight."

"Only because he was in trouble over Craig."

"Do you really think that was it?" Scully imagined she 
could see Fibbie putting hands on hips and staring her 
down. "Oh sure, your anger about that was a catalyst, but 
hasn't he been telling you how he feels for over a year 
now?"

"He just doesn't want you to leave," said Rummage Sale. 
"He'll say anything."

"Oh bullshit," interrupted Fibbie. Great, thought Scully. 
They can talk at the same time. I'm really losing it.

"Be quiet," Fibbie admonished, "this is important."

Scully stopped thinking and just listened.

"If all he needed was a scientist, there are plenty he 
could choose from. Sure, there are agents who don't want 
to work with him, but there are plenty that are interested 
in the work and some who are interested in him."

Scully felt her body tense.

"Your relationship went beyond a simple partnership a long 
time ago. You now share in the quest. The journey is 
every bit as important to you as it is to him. You said 
it, it's personal."

"So why doesn't he respect that?" Rummage Sale was 
sounding more curious and less confrontational. "He 
doesn't listen to the science, he resists your instincts, 
he goes elsewhere for help."

The voice called Fibbie became stronger, more assured.

"Because he wants more now and he's frustrated. 
Isn't it obvious? The debate is useful for the X-Files, but he 
knows that sometimes you use it to put up barriers -- and 
he wants to believe that there's more to the two of you than that."

"The X-Files are his life." Rummage Sale didn't sound so 
sure, though.

"If that's true, it's not for the same reason as it used to 
be, and you know it. Just because you don't let him care 
for you the way he wants to doesn't mean that his feelings 
aren't there."

"You do hold back," Rummage Sale mused. "You don't trust 
that God will be there, no matter what truths you find. And you 
don't trust that Mulder has it in him to face your questions 
with you." 
"And both..." Fibbie began.

"...are leaps of faith." Scully finished the sentence for 
herself, breaking the silence of the room by speaking out 
loud.

She sat up in bed, crossing her legs under the covers. She 
let herself imagine. Mulder's hands, his lips...Mulder 
expressing with his body what he had with his actions and 
his words. She bent her head to her intertwined fingers, 
as if in prayer. She recalled the words of the Psalm:

"Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you."

Well, thought Scully with a smile, there is one thing I 
desire here on earth. The question is, do I have the faith 
to reach for it?

"But God is the strength of my heart and my portion 
forever."

Scully stood up and walked to the bathroom, clicking on the 
light as she entered. She stared at herself in the mirror, 
unconsciously pulling her fingers through her rumpled hair. 
God, she thought, if this is not a leap you want me to 
take, you'd better stop me now.

She didn't hear any argument.
******

Only when she was standing outside Mulder's door did she 
remember that she had traversed the motel hallway 
barefoot, in pajamas -- and that she'd left her key in her 
room. Those minor concerns were wiped out as the door 
opened and Mulder appeared. 

He was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans and, like her, was 
barefoot. His right hand held the doorknob, his left held 
a styrofoam cup with a straw sticking out the top. His 
expression was one that mixed hurt and hope, and Scully 
knew in an instant that words were not needed or wanted.

She stepped forward, going up on tiptoes, and put her hands 
on either side of his face. The pads of her thumbs traced 
his cheekbones as she pulled his head down to hers. She 
tilted her head slightly, closed her eyes, and gently 
pressed her lips against his.

She heard the cup hit the floor with a thud an instant 
before his arms came around her. His lips began moving 
against hers, warm and wet and insistent, as he pulled her tightly 
against him and moved into the room. She felt her feet leave the 
floor as he spun around, never breaking the kiss as he 
backed up against the door, slamming it shut.

What took me so long? Her last rational thought faded 
almost before it formed and her world was reduced to the 
man holding her and the feel of his mouth and arms and chest 
and the hardness under his jeans. She found the floor with 
her toes and used them to press herself against him, 
wanting to be closer, trying to crawl inside him. She 
opened her mouth and felt him do the same; the last hint of 
coolness on his tongue from the drink fading as it met hers. 

He brought one hand to the back of her head as he left any 
remaining gentleness behind, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, 
his lips bruising hers. With one arm wrapped firmly around her 
lower back, he lifted her off the ground again and she put her arms 
around his neck, pressing her softness against the hard length of him. 
Muffled moans and the creak of the door as Mulder braced himself 
against it were the only sounds in the room.

Finally they both broke the kiss, gasping for air, and as 
they looked at each other, they both grinned, then smiled, 
then began laughing delightedly. She put her hands on his 
shoulders and he took the signal, lowering her until her 
feet were on the carpet. The feeling of his denim-covered 
erection as she slid down his body was intoxicating and she suddenly 
felt powerful and seductive. Oh Mulder, she thought, I've 
taken the leap...and I'm flying. 

She began walking backwards, sliding her hands down 
his arms, reveling in the downy feel of each inch before grasping 
his hands and tugging. He grinned and followed obediently 
as she led him the short distance to the foot of the bed. 
She stepped closer to him, sliding her 
hands under his soft t-shirt and breathing in. She 
pressed her palms over his skin and hard muscles beneath it, 
spreading her fingers and moving her hands up until the tips 
of her index fingers brushed his nipples. 
He gasped and grabbed her upper arms and when she tipped her head up 
to look at him, she saw that he didn't 
want to wait a moment longer. 

They stepped apart without breaking eye contact. Deep 
purple silk drifted to the floor, followed immediately by gray 
cotton and blue denim, which was apparently all Mulder had 
worn when he'd gone out for his drink. Scully drank in the 
sight of him, her eyes moving slowly from his large feet, up his 
legs, to his thick, erect cock. She stopped there, licking her 
lips almost unconsciously, considering all the wonderful
possibilities. Later. For now, she had to feel him inside of 
her as soon as possible. 

She startled back to awareness as Mulder's warm hands
cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. 
She drew in a sudden breath at his touch and felt her head
tilt back of its own accord. Oh, it felt wonderful, her nipples 
hardening further with every stroke. Yes. No. Later. Mulder, in me, 
now, she thought almost desperately. She pushed him away firmly, 
smiling, and walked slowly around the side of the bed. She 
pushed the bedspread and blanket down to the 
foot of the bed with exaggerated care, then put one knee on 
the edge and wordlessly invited him to join her on the cool 
white sheets.

He shook his head, chuckled, and lunged. Before she knew 
what had happened, she was lying diagonally in the center of the bed 
with Mulder's long, lean and warm body nestled between her 
legs. Sensations overwhelmed her. The cool of the sheets
on her back was like ice compared to Mulder's skin. 
Her nipples, already hard, brushed against the hairs on his chest 
as he held himself just above her, tantalizing her. 
The inside of her knees pressed in against his hipbones, pleading
with him as the wetness dampening the hair between her legs 
pulled her into an arch and she could feel his hard, thick 
erection brush against her curls, her clit. Now, Mulder, 
she thought, don't wait.

He felt her urgency and there was no more hesitation, just 
Scully bringing her knees up and her legs apart and Mulder
pulling back slightly before pushing his cock slowly into her, 
until every place inside her was filled with every inch of him, 
pulsing and hot. 

He saw her tears before she felt them and kissed them away; 
she could tell in each touch of his gentle lips on the corners 
of her eyes that he understood. His mouth traveled to her cheek and 
then down to suck at a place just under her ear as he began a 
slow rhythmic movement between her thighs. She gripped his 
upper arms and arched even further, meeting each thrust with one
of her own. 

The tempo increased, Mulder bringing his head up to kiss 
her before lowering himself to his elbows and pressing her 
down into the bed. The stubble on his jaw scraped down the 
side of her face until she felt his heated breath against 
her shoulder. She felt the slight tilt as he braced 
himself on one elbow and brought his left hand between 
them. He touched her confidently, and the pressure of his 
hand beneath the weight of his body was all she needed. 
Scully heard her own gasps became moans, then unintelligible 
words as she rotated her hips up against him. Just...once... 
more, she thought, and then she exploded, the pleasure 
radiating out into hundreds of places she hadn't known existed. 

Even as she rode out the waves of her orgasm, Mulder began 
pounding into her, chanting her name and his own nonsense 
syllables. Her inner thigh muscles ached gloriously as she 
brought her legs still higher, wrapping her ankles around his
hips, letting him thrust deeper and harder until his whole body tensed 
and shook and she had the wondrous sensation of his warmth 
streaming into her...filling her...then his cock finally 
softening slowly.

"Scully...Scully..." She heard his voice, felt it rumbling 
through him as she enjoyed the feeling and scent of his body, 
hot and sweaty, stretched out on top of her. Here's that safe 
haven, she thought. It was waiting for me all along.

Their breathing slowed and she began placing small kisses 
along his rough jaw, stroking his hair tenderly. She felt
his smile against her cheek; then suddenly, 
in one motion, he slipped out of her and rolled onto his 
back, pulling her with him. The coolness of the night air 
hit the sweat on her back and neck and she gasped before 
laughing and snuggling down, tucking her head into the space
between his shoulder and chin.

His hands wandered over her and she heard him chuckle. 
"Scully? You're really tiny, did you know that?"

She lifted her head up and propped her lower arms on his 
chest so she could look at him. She raised an eyebrow. 
"That wouldn't be a complaint, would it G-man? I seem to 
recall you saying that you value your body and all its 
parts."

The parts in question shifted slightly under her. It was 
intoxicating; even as she felt sore muscles everywhere, she 
came alive at the feel of the hair on his legs beneath her 
smooth calves, the heat that remained between them, the 
press of her breasts against his chest.

"No, ma'am, no complaints at all. In fact, I may have to 
recommend you for a commendation."

Scully smiled and put her head down over his breastbone. 
His heartbeat resonated under her ear and she began to 
feel sleepy. "I think you should wait until you've seen 
the full range of my skills," she said, her voice becoming 
mellower by the moment.

"Scully?"

"Mulder?"

"Do you really want to sleep here?"

Startled back to alertness, she pushed her self up again. 
What had he said?

He seemed to realize that he'd been misunderstood. He 
gestured with one hand. "I mean, this bed's a mess and..."

She looked around her for the first time. The motel was 
apparently not using fitted sheets and both sets were 
pulled up and tangled around them. She knew that if she 
rolled off Mulder's warm body she'd find herself lying 
right on the damp place where they had been moments 
before. She looked back at her partner.

"Mulder, I hate to admit it, but you've got a point."

He grinned. "I'll try not to let it go to my head. 
So...your room?"

Scully began to nod, then groaned. "My key."

"What?"

"I left it in my room."

"Oh." Mulder shrugged. "Well, that's no problem." He 
scooted out from under her, gently lowering her to the 
mattress, stood up and walked over to the low chest of 
drawers on the opposite wall. He bent over -- what a 
lovely view, she thought drowsily -- as he opened 
the top drawer and felt around inside. He straightened 
up and turned as he waved something triumphantly.

"You have a key to my room?" Scully was startled.

"I always get one. Just in case...you know...I worry."

Even after what they had shared this night, the intensity 
of the love she felt surprised her. All these years, she 
thought, all these years. 

She pulled herself off the bed and came to stand in front 
of him. Once again she went up on tiptoe, put her hands on 
either side of his face and pulled him down toward her. 

"I love you too, Mulder," she whispered.

*********

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tuesday
6:00am

Scully awoke slowly, each conscious sensation gradually 
taking the place of the elements of her dream. Lying on 
her side, a blanket tucked under her arm, she saw the gray 
September sky peeking through the gap in the curtains. 
Outside, a motor revved and a car pulled 
out of the parking lot, its noisy engine sounds becoming 
fainter. More immediately, she felt two warm legs tucked 
behind hers and a long muscled arm under the blanket, 
draped over her waist. The steady breathing from the head 
tucked behind hers was warm against her ear.

Her lower arm was curled under her pillow and she felt 
Mulder's arm next to it. She moved slightly and found his 
hand, threading her fingers through his and squeezing 
gently. She ran the fingers of her other hand up and down 
the arm at her waist, stroking the light covering of hair, 
sighing peacefully.

"Fish food," Mulder mumbled into her hair.

She could see the digital clock and wondered why she felt 
so rested. She and Mulder had cuddled up in her bed -- "Do 
not say `like little baby cats,'" she had warned him -- and 
fallen asleep almost immediately after arriving in her 
room. The clock had read 3:30 when she had been awakened 
by his lips on her breasts and his hand moving between her 
legs. An hour of mutual exploration and, she smiled at the 
memory, fairly athletic sex later, they had fallen asleep again. 
The wonders of stress relief, she thought. I feel like I've slept 
for days.

The chirping of her cell phone startled her and she felt 
Mulder stir behind her. She cleared her throat and reached 
toward her bedside table.

"Scully."

"Dana?" The urgency in Deborah's voice was immediately 
apparent. "I couldn't reach Mulder. Do you know where he 
is?"

"What's the matter, Deborah?" Scully dodged the question.

"Another boy is missing."

*****************

7am
Elkins County Courthouse

"Damn it, Jenkins, what's your deputy doin' over there, 
anyway - picking his nose? We sent out the alert on the 
kidnappings five days ago!"

Randall Grey's voice was the first that Scully heard as she 
and Mulder came down the stairs to the basement command 
center. As they entered the room, she saw that he was 
talking, or rather yelling, into a phone.

"What's your being in Hinton got to do with it? We're in 
the same goddamned state, Jenkins. You gotta look at the 
alerts!"

Chief Grey looked away from Scully's eyes as she passed 
him. She sensed he was embarrassed by the slip-up in law 
enforcement procedure, even though it had not come from one 
of his own men.

Deborah met them at one of the tables in the center of the 
room. No one sat down.

"His name is Levi Spencer. I know," she said quickly at 
Mulder's reaction, "same name as one of the other boys. 
Slightly different M.O. - he disappeared while out walking 
the family dog early yesterday morning."

"And the dog?" Scully asked.

"Wandered home on his own, dragging the leash. Parents 
went out looking, called in neighbors to help, called the 
sheriff an hour later. He treated it as a runaway 
incident. Never read our faxes, apparently." She nodded 
toward Chief Grey who was still on the phone. "It was only 
because the Elkins folks were following up with phone calls 
to every police station and sheriff's office in five 
counties that we were able to make the connection."

The chief hung up and walked over, picking up on Deborah's 
last remark.

"Sheriff Jenkins got our follow-up message yesterday 
afternoon. Mulled it over while he went out to dinner with 
the family. `Kept it in mind,' he says, while putting the 
kids to sleep and watching Jay Leno. Finally decided to 
mosey on over to the office and fax us the information on 
his runaway. It came through around 2am and the night 
shift called me at 4."

Scully turned to Mulder to get his reaction, and found he 
wasn't there. Turning further, she saw that he had begun 
pacing over by the bulletin board set up with case details 
and photographs. 

Deborah, meanwhile, was trying to reassure Grey.

"Chief, it's your department's thoroughness that got us 
this information at all. You've got nothing to apologize 
for. Now - has Agent Kessler got all the information he 
needs?"

Gray nodded, and Scully followed his gaze over to Len, who 
was hunched over his computer.

"Yes, ma'am," Grey said, "we got the school and medical 
records to him an hour ago."

"Len," Deborah called out, "any connections to the rest of 
our boys yet?"

One cordoroy-clad arm was raised and a hand waved them off.

"Apparently not," she said grimly.

"He's not related to the boys," Mulder said and Scully 
realized he was standing next to them again. "He's a 
replacement."

"A replacement?" Chief Grey beat Deborah and Scully to the 
question.

"I think Levi McIntyre is dead and Levi Spencer was taken 
in his place."

Mulder's pronouncement was greeted with silence. Scully 
spoke first.

"But Mulder, it's Ben Andrews that was killed. We don't 
have any evidence that Levi McIntyre was, too. And you 
yourself said that this isn't about murder."

"It isn't," Mulder insisted, "but I'm convinced that this 
is related to those ten boys on the bus. Ten, Scully - the 
number is important."

Their SAC was shaking her head. "That's a stretch, Mulder. 
I've seen you pull some weird ones out of your hat, but...I 
gotta tell you, this is looking like serial kidnapping, 
probably sexual abuse."

"Sex isn't a part of this case, Deborah." Mulder was firm. 
"I need to see the interview reports again - ours and the 
ones done by the local police. I want to check alibis. 
Len needs to find all the other boys named Reuben in the 
area. And I want the Kumbrabow forest searched in the area 
where we found Ben Andrews' body."

Scully and Deborah both hesitated at the sudden changes in 
direction, but Randall Grey seemed to take it in stride. 
"I'll get the files for you and get people out to Kumbrabow 
to look around," he said and walked over to the cardboard 
file boxes near the copier, calling Officers Minnick and 
Cole away from their phone calls. Deborah shook her head and 
went to talk to Len.

"Alibis, Mulder?" Scully queried.

"Fifteen years ago, ten boys got rowdy on a bus and 
inadvertently caused an accident. Jacob Seale was driving 
and he'd be the most obvious target of anyone angry about 
it, but he hasn't been touched. So it's got to be the 
boys. Someone's seeking retribution and it's about the 
boys."

"But why not seek out the boys themselves -- as adults?" 
Deborah asked, returning to the table. "Six of them still live 
right here in Randolph County."

"I don't know," Mulder replied, "but we need to look at 
anyone who was affected by that accident."

Chief Grey came back with the files and they all sat down 
at the table. Mulder pulled a file and began scanning its 
contents. Scully and Deborah looked at each other and began 
talking back and forth, trying to process the idea that 
Mulder was proposing.

"Well, the most obvious victim was the bicylist hit by the 
bus -- Joe Kreuger," Deborah began, referring to the church 
handyman, "but from what you've told me about his 
disability, he's not capable of the abductions."

Scully continued this line of thought. "So that would lead 
to the Reverend wanting someone to pay for injuring his 
brother."

"Why wait fifteen years?"

"Why camphor poisoning and then suffocation?"

Mulder interrupted. "The Reverend has alibis for all the 
abductions that occurred at the boys' homes. Bible 
studies, committee meetings, hospital visits. Lots of 
witnesses. I don't have anything here on the night of the 
camping trip and we need to check on the funeral he 
presided at yesterday."

"I'm on it." Chief Grey got up and went to the phone.

Deborah continued her musing in Scully's direction as Mulder 
went back to the files. "The boy who was paralyzed in the 
bus accident..."

"Billy Gaffney." Scully had seen his medical records when 
she'd met with Dr. Lansing. "He still lives here. He's 
married, has two kids, works as a pharmacist."

"We need to check him out. Officer Perkins?" Deborah called 
to one of the two officers still making phone calls to area 
law enforcement. 

Scully turned to Mulder as Deborah gave instructions to the 
policeman. "Mulder, you need to slow down. Let's take 
this a step at a time."

Mulder shook his head vehemently. "We can't slow down, 
Scully. I was wrong about our not being on a clock. 
Something's going to happen. There have to be ten boys and 
then something's going to happen."

"Mulder, we don't even know for sure that these crimes are 
related to the bus accident."

"I do know." Scully saw Mulder's stubborn expression and 
knew that if she didn't go along, she was going to be 
ditched. It was comforting, in a strange way. Sex hadn't 
changed either of them.

"Okay," she started again. "Len will find other boys named 
Reuben and we'll go check on them. Or we can send someone 
to do that and we'll check on Billy Gaffney, though I can't 
imagine how he could manage the abductions from a 
wheelchair. Maybe we should concentrate on finding the 
perpetrator's hiding place."

"We won't find it until we find him," Mulder replied. "But 
you're right about Gaffney, Scully. We need to concentrate 
on finding the other Reubens."

"There's only one that I can find," Len interrupted, coming 
toward them with a printout in hand. Deborah and Chief Grey 
joined them and everyone huddled around the paper Len laid 
on the table.

"His name is Reuben Jacobson. 17 years old. Lives in 
Smithville."

"That's out 47 toward Ohio," Randall Grey interjected.

Len continued. "I just got off the phone with the sheriff 
in that county. Turns out he's the boy's uncle. Anyhow, 
Reuben isn't in town. He's on a college visit in 
Morgantown. Gets back tonight."

"Did you tell him-" Mulder started.

"I told him that he should keep an eye on the boy, yes, but 
I didn't mention protective custody or anything like that. 
I still think this is a long shot, Mulder. Why would our 
perp go that far out of town just for one boy?"
Everyone turned and looked at Mulder. He was staring at 
the printout. Suddenly, Scully saw his shoulders tense. 

"It's the names," he said.

"What?" "Huh?" "The names?" Everyone spoke at once. 

Len broke through. "I checked, Mulder. There are no name 
connections, familial or otherwise, that are consistent 
between the two sets of boys."

"No, that's not the connection. I mean, the bus accident 
is still a part of this; it's a trigger, but it's the names 
of the boys that are missing. There's something about 
their names."

Deborah rattled them off from memory. Scully knew that the 
SAC had probably been reading files instead of sleeping 
each night since her arrival.

"Ben - Reuben - Andrews, Chris Sanders, Levi McIntyre, Judd 
Lightner, Dan Campbell, Tyler Childress, Luke Garrison, 
Chad Gardner, Bobby Johnson and Mark Samuels."

The huddle erupted into commotion, each person proposing an 
idea. 

"Not alphabetical."

"We've got Luke and Mark...no Matthew or John, though. 
What about middle names?"

"Are any of the rest nicknames, like Ben?"

"The initials...do the initials spell something?"

Deborah straightened up and sighed. "We're not going to get 
anywhere with random guesses. We need to work the case. 
Now, who's -"

She was interrupted by the reappearance of Officers Minnick 
and Cole, whose arrival was announced by the clomping of 
their boots as they ran down the stairs and into the room.

Chief Gray looked up. "I thought you two were going out to 
Kumbrabow."

Officer Minnick answered him.

"We were on our way when Tammy radioed us from the station. 
She knew we were headed out there. The park ranger just 
called in. They've found another boy's body out there, 
about a quarter mile from where the first boy was."
Scully felt Mulder's hand on the small of her back. 

"Levi McIntyre," he said.

********************** 

2:30pm
Davis Memorial Hospital

Mulder arrived in the autopsy bay as Scully and Craig were 
washing up. She could see the fatigue in his eyes and 
posture.

"What's the news on the pharmacist, Billy Gaffney -- the one 
who was injured in the bus accident?" she asked. "Deborah 
called and said you might have something."

"You first." Mulder wandered over to the sink and leaned 
against the wall, looking from Scully to Craig.

Craig shook the water off his hands and reached for a paper 
towel.

"Radiating occipital fracture with contre-coup injury at 
the roof of the orbits." He grinned at Mulder, obviously 
playing a familiar game with him. 

Mulder tipped his head and glared at his old colleague. 
"Reskin, I've got news for you. The only lady in the room 
isn't impressed."

"You're not?" Craig looked at Mulder in mock astonishment.

Scully shook her head at their display and translated 
Craig's statement for Mulder.

"He fell, Mulder. Backwards, probably from a height of six 
feet or so. He could have been pushed, but it could just 
as easily have been accidental."

"Trace evidence?" 

"The lab will have to confirm, but we found dust on the 
clothes that looks the same as what was found on Ben 
Andrews' body -- something not from the forest."

"So he had been in the same place as Ben." Mulder stated 
the obvious, not looking for an answer.

"What's up with the pharmacist?" Craig asked. "Scully says 
the bus accident left him paralyzed. How could he be 
your perp?"

Mulder turned slightly and put his whole back against the 
wall, bracing his feet against the floor as if to prop 
himself up. 

"Billy Gaffney's a paraplegic. His injury is something 
called L1."

"First lumbar vertebrae," Craig offered. "It means only 
the lower limbs are affected."

"Right. He's got full use of his upper body and he's 
apparently very mobile. Drives a van, shoots hoops -- he's 
even done some rock climbing with his brother. The 
brother is one of the reasons that Deborah is narrowing in on 
Gaffney. He's still pissed about the bus accident, all 
these years later. They both are."

"You talked to them?" Scully asked.

"Yeah. They don't hold anything back. Frank - that's the 
brother - had some choice words for Jacob Seale, and Billy 
claims he was the only one not causing a ruckus on the bus. 
It was everybody else, he says, mostly egged on by some kid 
named Paul Campbell."

"Campbell..." Scully began.

"A second cousin to one of our missing boys, Dan Campbell. 
But there's no other connection like that, Scully, and this 
is the kind of area where, if you'll pardon the 
generalization, lots of people are related to other people. 
I don't think it means anything."

Mulder lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair, 
continuing to speak. 

"But Deborah's all over that, and Frank and Billy have 
supposedly been on a camping trip for the last 2 weeks. In 
other words, no alibis for any of the abductions. She's 
also latching on to the camphor poisoning, saying that 
Billy - as a pharmacist - would have known about that."

"He could just as easily have gotten his hands on any 
number of other poisons," said Scully.

"Exactly."

Craig interjected, "So what do these two guys say about the 
missing boys?"

"Oh, they deny everything -- say that if they wanted to `do 
somebody,' as they put it, they'd take care of `Old Man 
Seale.' They say the only thing they know about the case 
is what they've read in the local paper or heard on the 
news."

"And you think..." Scully prompted.

"I think you and I need to drive out to Smithville and 
check on Reuben Jacobson. I think he's in danger and if he 
disappears, that will mean our kidnapper has ten boys 
again, and things will go down in a hurry."

Scully was already pulling on her coat and handing Craig 
the tape of their notes.

"Craig?" she asked.

"I've got this part," he answered, knowing her question 
without hearing it. "You go with your partner. I'll be 
here overnight again, so just check in later."

"Thanks," Scully said. Impulsively, she reached up and 
kissed him on the cheek. "It's good to work with you 
again."

"Same here, Scullybu-- Doctor Scully," he replied, giving 
her a quick squeeze on the shoulders. "Get going."

Mulder guided her out the door, leaning down to murmur, 
"See? Aren't you glad I called him?"

Scully sped up and turned, walking backwards down the hall 
so she could face her partner. 

"Don't push your luck, G-man. You're getting a pass on 
this one, but only because I've recently discovered that 
you are useful in other ways."

She turned again and walked ahead of him, smiling as she 
heard his steps lighten.

"Oh, I haven't even begun, Scully - I haven't even begun."

********** 
CHAPTER NINE


Jacobson residence
Smithville, West Virginia
5pm

The drive to Smithville took just over ninety minutes. 
Following directions obtained from Len, Mulder turned off a 
county road onto a long gravel driveway leading into a 
small farm. The fields on either side of the driveway were 
barren but the buildings on the land, including the two 
story house, large garage, and red barn, seemed well-
maintained.

As Mulder pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway, 
Scully finished a call with Deborah and clicked her cellphone 
off.

"Good thing we were done talking," she commented, "because 
the signal was down to almost nothing."

"What was all that about? It sounded like everyone's on the 
move." Mulder clearly had been frustrated at hearing only 
one part of the conversation.

"They are. Deborah had the pharmacist, Billy Gaffney, and 
his brother Frank under surveillance. Apparently Frank 
slipped out of his house and disappeared a half-hour ago. 
They've got an APB out on his truck, but it's not like 
there's a cop on every corner to keep an eye out for him. 
Len is talking to Billy Gaffney now, trying to find out 
what's going on."

"And what was that about caves?"

"Remember the Andrews?" 

"The Y2K apocalypse couple." Mulder grimaced. 

"Officers Stewart and Gilpin were on that surveillance this 
afternoon when the Andrews took off. They were hauling a 
trailer and headed south, toward Kumbrabow."

"Oh great. So where's Deborah? Does she want us back?"

Scully could almost hear Mulder's heels digging in.

"No, she's okay with us being here for now - just said to 
check in after we decide how to proceed with keeping an eye 
on this Reuben."

Mulder nodded silently and they both opened their doors and 
got out of the car. Right away, Scully was grateful that 
she'd changed into low-heeled boots in the car. As soon as 
she stepped off the gravel of the driveway, she could feel 
the damp, soft ground that would have swallowed up her 
heels.

They walked across the yard and up the front porch steps, 
dodging a baseball mitt, various small plastic action 
figures, and a bedraggled rag doll. Scully took the lead, 
ringing the bell and speaking when a plump, smiling woman 
wearing an apron opened the door.

"Mrs. Jacobson?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI - this is 
Special Agent Mulder. I believe you were expecting us?"

"Oh yes, my brother -- he's the sheriff, you know -- he 
called me and told me someone might come by. Do come in."

She pushed open the screen door and motioned for them to 
follow her into the house. 

"I'm doing some baking, so I hope you don't mind if we talk 
in the kitchen."

As in most farmhouses, the kitchen was spacious and 
included an eating area with a table that would seat six. 
It was covered with racks of cookies cooling from the oven. 
The whole house was filled with the scents of cinnamon and 
cloves. Scully and Mulder took seats at the table, careful 
not to disturb anything on top. Mrs. Jacobson immediately 
went back to a large bowl on the counter and began stirring 
vigorously, the wooden spoon rhythmically tapping the sides 
of the ceramic bowl.

Mulder seemed mesmerized by the cookies, so Scully began 
the conversation.

"So your son, Reuben, is seventeen?"

"That's right. He's a senior over at the high school. Top 
of his class -- he'll be the first in my family to go to 
college. Makes us proud, I tell you."

"And he's on a visit to West Virginia University?"

"He was. They were real impressed with him. Doesn't 
surprise us one-"

Scully sat up straighter and saw Mulder do the same.

"He's already home? We thought he wasn't coming home until 
tonight."

"Oh, well, that was the plan ma'am, but he knew right off 
that it was the place for him. Didn't seem that we needed 
to stay any longer."

Mulder spoke for the first time. "Where is Reuben now, 
Mrs. Jacobson?"

"Oh, he's out in the barn with his sister. He's got 
chores, but they're probably just playing. Melody misses 
her brother something fierce when he's gone. I don't know 
what she'll do when he goes to college."

"Mrs. Jacobson," Scully said, "would you mind if we went 
out to the barn and spoke to Reuben?"

"Why no, I think that would be fine. My brother said that 
you all were worried about him, but I can't imagine why. 
We never have anything happen here, much less kidnapping 
and such."

"Well, we won't alarm him, Mrs. Jacobson. We just want to 
see that he's all right. Can we go out this back door?" 
Scully gestured toward the door on the far side of the 
table. She could see the barn about a quarter mile away.

"Sure, you go ahead. I'd go with you, but this timer is 
gonna go off any second. Can't burn Reuben's favorite 
cookies."

The path to the barn was marked with small stones on either 
side, so, even with the evening getting darker, the agents 
were able to find their way. As they neared the barn, 
Scully heard the sound of a little girl singing. The 
tune sounded familiar, but it was only as they entered 
the barn that she made out the words, rising up in pitch 
for one line, falling for two.

"Jesus is ten-nerly calling the home,
Calling too-day, 
Calling too-day,
La-la-la, La-la-la, La-la-la-laaaaa,
Farder and farder awaaaaay"

Reuben's little sister Melody appeared to be about four 
years old. She was dressed in overalls and had a short 
pixie haircut. As Scully and Mulder entered the barn, they 
could see her in the shadows at the far end. She was 
twirling around, arms outstretched as she sang, her head 
tilted back. As the agents' footsteps echoed on the 
concrete floor of the large wooden building, Melody stopped 
suddenly and looked toward them.

Scully spoke, trying not to frighten the little girl.

"Hi Melody! Your mom said you'd be out here in the barn. 
I'm Dana. That's a pretty song."

Melody didn't seem to mind the appearance of two strangers. 
She ran over to them and stopped at Mulder's feet, putting 
her hands on her hips and staring up at him.

"You're tall," she pronounced.

"I am?" said Mulder. "Well, I can fix that." He bent his 
knees knelt down on the concrete, holding out his right 
hand. "I'm Fox. You have a nice voice, Melody."

Melody put her small hand in his large one, grabbed onto 
his index finger and pumped his arm up and down before 
darting away and twirling again.

"I can get dizzy - wanna watch?"

Scully smiled. "We're looking for your brother, Melody. 
Where is he?"

"He hadda go," the little girl announced, still twirling.

Scully went on alert and felt Mulder do the same.

"Go where, honey?" Scully moved forward, knelt down, and 
placed her hands on Melody's shoulders to stop her 
movement. "We need to talk to him. Can you tell us where 
he is?"

Melody pushed her hair behind her ears. "The dancing man 
came to get him. They went in a big truck."

"Jesus," Mulder muttered as he dashed back out the door of 
the barn.

"That's right," Melody said as she watched him go. "Jesus 
is tennerly calling and Reuben went with the dancing man. 
He gave me some gumdrops."

Melody shoved both hands into the pockets of her overalls 
and produced two fists full of colorful candies. Scully's 
thoughts flew in a hundred directions and she closed her 
eyes briefly, willing herself to focus on the questions 
that would yield the most information.

"Melody," she began, making sure the little girl was 
looking at her, "tell me about the dancing man."

Melody stepped away from Scully, put the gumdrops back in 
her pocket, and stretched her arms out, beginning her 
circular dance again.

"He's a nice man. He gave me gumdrops. He sings, like me. 
Reuben liked the singing."

"How do you know?" Scully decided not to stop the little 
girl, as long as she was talking.

"We was playing airplane."

"You and Reuben?"

"Yup. Reuben swings me way up high! He's the bestest. 
Daddy won't swing me high enough."

"Where was the dancing man?"

"Oh, he was singing outside."

"Outside the barn?" 

"Uh huh."

Mulder reappeared, slightly out of breath. "There's a dirt 
road leading out into another field. Fresh tire tracks but 
no sign of anybody." He pulled out his cellphone, pushed a 
button and put it to his ear. "Damn it. No signal."

Melody had stopped her dance when Mulder reappeared. She 
shook a small finger at him.

"You said a bad word. My mother'll wash your mouth out."

Mulder knelt down in front of her again.

"I'm sorry, Melody. I just need to find your brother right 
away."

Scully picked up her questioning, knowing Mulder would 
catch up.

"So you and Reuben were playing airplane, and you heard the 
singing outside the barn. What did Reuben do?"

"He stopped spinning me. I told him to go again, but he 
didn't listen to me."

"Because he was listening to the singing?" Scully prompted.

"Uh huh. He was starin' and starin' out the door and then 
he left."

"Just walked out the door?"

"Yep. Jesus was tennerly calling."

Scully looked over at Mulder. "It's a hymn, Mulder. He 
was singing a hymn." She turned back to Melody. "Did you 
go after Reuben, honey?"

"Yeah, but he didn't listen to me. He jes' got in the big 
truck. I said `Reuben, Reuben'!"

"What did the dancing man do?" asked Mulder.

"He gave me gumdrops. I think they were from Jesus."

"Why's that honey?" Scully tucked another stray hair 
behind Melody's ear and left her hand sitting gently on the 
little girl's shoulder.

"'Cause he was singing about him. He kep' singing all the 
way to the big truck and then they drove away."

Scully let out a deep breath and looked at her partner. He 
was staring at the floor, tapping his fingers against the 
concrete. Suddenly, he looked up and smiled at Melody.

"Melody? Can you show Dana and me the dance that the man 
did?"

Melody was enthusiastic. "Sure! He did this...and 
this...see?"

As she talked she began moving away from them. She took a 
short step out to her right side, rocking and tilting her 
body in that direction, followed quickly by a long slow 
step on the left, with her body tilting - suspended for a 
moment - to that side. She repeated this several times, 
then whirled to face the adults.

"That's all," she said.

"That's a limp," said Mulder.

"That's a limp," Scully agreed.

*******

The lack of a clear cellular signal prevented Scully from 
making a call until she and Mulder had traveled thirty 
miles in their race back to Elkins. When she did reach 
Deborah, the news was not good.

"We're pretty much on our own, Mulder, except for a couple 
of Randall Grey's officers. Do you want someone to go to 
the church now?"

"No. I need to approach Joe myself."

"That's what I thought. Unfortunately, everyone else is at least 
an hour away from Elkins. Stewart and Gilpin are tracking 
the Andrews into Kumbrabow State Forest and Chief Grey went 
to back them up. Deborah doesn't know if she can reach any 
of them by cell."

"Where the hell is Deborah? You were talking to her when we 
got to the farm, and she was at the courthouse." Mulder 
pressed the accelerator and sped up, pushing the car's 
speed toward eighty miles an hour.

"Apparently, just after we hung up, someone called with a 
sighting of Frank Gaffney's truck. Billy Gaffney had been 
completely evasive with Len, so when Deborah found out that 
Frank had been seen with camping and caving gear in his 
truck, headed across the state line into Virginia, she 
called Len and they took off after him. They took a couple 
of officers as backup."

"But we know that Joe Krueger took Reuben. It's not Frank 
or Billy or the Andrews. It's Joe - and I think Reverend 
Kreuger is involved."

"I told her, and they're turning around, but they're at 
least an hour out." 

"So that leaves..." Mulder tried to remember the names of the 
two remaining officers, "Minnick and Cole in Elkins. Are 
they watching the church?"

"Deborah is sending them over with strict instructions not to 
enter the building until we get there."

Scully, having finished her review of the phone 
conversation, leaned back in her seat and tried to slow her 
breathing. Mrs. Jacobson had been hysterical upon learning 
of her son's disappearance and only the arrival of her 
husband had calmed her enough for the agents to leave. 
Now, with dusk casting a blue-gray pallor over everything, 
Mulder was negotiating the two-lane country highway as if it 
were a grand prix race track. And still, they had no clear idea 
why any of the boys had been taken - or where they could 
be found.

Mulder interrupted her thoughts.

"It's definitely Joe, Scully. Melody Jacobson did an 
almost perfect imitation of his limp. But how could he be 
singing? Did his brother lie about his inability to 
speak?"

"Well, I couldn't tell you for certain without examining 
him, but I seem to remember that some people who lose 
speech due to a stroke or brain injury can still sing 
familiar songs."

"Hypnotically?"

"You're assuming that it's Joe's singing that is luring the 
boys away - like some kind of Pied Piper?"

Mulder pulled up behind a truck going the speed limit. 
Darting out into the left lane, he punched the accelerator 
and sped past, veering back into the right lane quickly as 
the headlights of an oncoming car became brighter. Scully 
gripped the edges of her seat and listened as he responded 
to her question. 

"What other explanation is there? There were no reports of 
struggles in any of the abductions, and the youth leaders 
as well as Jacob Seale reported hearing singing in 
association with the disappearances."

"I still don't see how hearing hymns could lead perfectly 
normal boys to ride away with a stranger," Scully 
responded. "And by the way, are you proposing that Joe 
drove himself around snatching these boys? I can picture 
him being able to sing, but his visual and motor perception 
and coordination are not good enough for him to be 
driving."

"Remember the statements we looked at, Scully. The 
Reverend only had alibis for the local abductions. Joe 
could have walked to those homes. In all the other cases -- 
the campground, the second boy named Levi -- Reverend 
Krueger could have driven with Joe to the locations. He 
was probably there tonight." 

"If that's how it happened, then the hiding place has to be 
in Elkins," Scully said, turning her head to watch the blur of 
utility poles and fence posts as they raced past.

"It had better be." Mulder sounded grim. "I think we're 
running out of time."

They were both silent for the next few miles. Scully let 
the hum of the engine and the increasing darkness outside 
the car calm her. She needed to regain her focus so she 
would be ready for whatever awaited them at the church.

She thought back to their tour with Reverend Krueger. The 
beauty of the sanctuary and its banners, the smell of 
polished wood and old hymnals...everything had seemed so 
normal. And now she was operating on the assumption that 
Ben Krueger and his brother, Joe...

Ben and his brother, Joe.

Benjamin and his brother, Joseph.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"I think I know what this is all about."

********** 
CHAPTER TEN


Scully felt Mulder decrease his speed slightly as he waited 
for her to elaborate.

"What do you know about the story of Joseph from the book 
of Genesis, Mulder?"

"The Bible version or the one where Donny Osmond sings 
Andrew Lloyd Webber songs?"

"Mulder..."

"Okay, okay. Let's see. Joseph was one of the sons of 
Jacob. He was a favored son, having been born to Rachel, 
Jacob's true love."

"Very good, Mulder, I'm impressed." 

"Joseph was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, the 
ones who were born to other women."

"His ten brothers."

"I see where you're going with this," Mulder mused. "The 
only brother not involved in the sale was Benjamin - who, 
like Joseph, was the son of Rachel...so the sale of Joseph 
deprived Benjamin of his closest sibling."

Scully heard Mulder slip into storytelling mode and though 
she knew the facts he was reciting, she leaned back and let 
his voice wash over her. The first stars were becoming 
visible in the night sky and she focused on them as she 
leaned the side of her face against the cool surface of her 
window.

"Joseph was a slave in the household of Potiphar. He 
worked his way up and soon was running the household. 
Unfortunately, Potiphar's wife got the hots for Joseph and 
cried rape when he didn't reciprocate. Joseph got thrown 
in jail."

Mulder has read this, Scully realized. He's not just 
repeating something he heard.

"Joseph, scrapper that he was, impressed the warden and 
soon was running things around the jail, too. More 
importantly, he demonstrated the ability to accurately 
interpret the dreams of others. This eventually brought 
him to the attention - and favor - of the Pharoah himself. 
Through the interpretation of the Pharoah's dreams, Joseph 
was able to predict a famine that would strike the land and 
to suggest how they could be prepared."

Ah, thought Scully with a small smile. Joseph was an X-
File. That would have captured her partner's interest.

Mulder continued. "So it came to pass that, when Jacob's 
sons had to travel to Egypt to find grain, they met with 
Joseph - the Pharoah's second-in-command. They didn't 
recognize him, but Joseph knew his brothers and, to make a 
long story short, he refused to help them until they went 
back to Canaan and brought Benjamin along. Joseph's joy at 
seeing his younger brother was so great that he had to go 
to his private quarters and weep. Soon, he revealed 
himself to his brothers and forgave them everything. `What 
you meant for evil, God meant for good," he said - or 
something like that."

Her partner fell silent. Scully sensed that the tale had 
some resonance for him beyond its paranormal elements. Her 
own focus had recently been on Joseph and Benjamin's 
mother, Rachel, and her struggles with infertility - but she 
could understand how the story of siblings separated for 
selfish purposes would affect Mulder. 

"I'm have to admit I'm a little surprised, Mulder," she 
said, turning toward him.

"Why's that, Scully?"

"You tell that story as though you've read it yourself. I 
thought you felt that the Bible was just a collection of 
parables and fictions."

Mulder was silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice 
was quiet and gentle.

"Scully, there are a lot of reasons why I can't put my 
whole faith in the places and people you do. My religious 
upbringing, for one thing, was...let's just say it was 
confusing. After Samantha disappeared, my parents didn't 
participate in any form of worship service, and I wasn't 
inclined to believe in a God who would let my sister be 
taken from my life.

"But I still thought about faith and God and choices, 
Scully. When I was at Oxford, I studied the Bible on my 
own - and the Koran and other religious traditions. I just 
never found anything that felt like the truth I needed to 
hear. And, once I went through the regression 
hypnotherapy, I knew that it was my responsibility -- and no 
one else's -- to find out what had happened to Samantha."

Mulder kept his eyes on the road and increased their speed 
once again. Scully watched the pulse at the base of his 
neck, beating steadily. She reached out and placed her 
left hand on top of his right one as it rested on the 
steering wheel. She felt hope course through her: hope for 
the two of them, hope for Samatha, hope for the missing 
boys.

The boys.

"The story of Joseph doesn't parallel this case in every 
aspect," she said, returning her attention to the matter at 
hand. "Joseph forgave his brothers."

Mulder responded almost immediately. "I think we should 
look at it from Benjamin's perspective, Scully. Benjamin's 
dearest brother was taken from him due to a selfish act. 
Reverend Kreuger's brother was taken from him due to the 
selfishness of those boys on the bus. He's the one 
who wants retribution."

"But then why not go after those particular boys as adults, 
Mulder? Didn't Len say that six of them still live in 
Randolph County? And what about the names of the boys who 
were taken? They're not the same as the names of the 
brothers in Genesis."

"Well, we're not exactly dealing with a sane person here, 
Scully - but I think the names might be related. Damn, I 
wish we had a Bible with us."

Scully reached down to the briefcase at her feet and 
produced the Gideon Bible from her motel room, waving it at 
Mulder with a small smile.

"That's my partner, always prepared," he said, and she 
heard the affection that accompanied the respect in his 
voice.

Scully thumbed through the pages of Genesis until she came 
to the relevant passage.

"Jacob had twelve sons..."

"The bus driver was named Jacob. If coincidences are 
coincidences, why do they feel so contrived?" Mulder 
muttered.

Scully continued. "Jacob had twelve sons: The sons of 
Leah: Reuben, the firstborn of Jacob - "

"Check."

"Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar and Zebulun."

"We've got a Levi and a Judah - Judd."

"The sons of Rachel, Joseph and Benjamin. The sons of 
Rachel's maidservant Bilhah: Dan and Naphtali. The sons of 
Leah's maidservant Zilpah: Gad and Asher. Mulder, I know 
I said this story was related to our case, but - Issachar 
and Naphtali?"

Mulder chuckled, despite the seriousness of the subject 
matter. "Don't give up on your theory yet, Scully. 
`Asher' means `happy,' right?"

"I...I think so."

"Look at the file and read me the boys' names - their full 
names."

Scully pulled the file out of the briefcase, opened it, and 
began to read.

"Reuben Paul Andrews, Judd Martin Lightner, Jr., Robert 
Felix Johnson -"

"There you go."

"There I go where?"

"Felix, Scully. Felix also means happy. Fire up the 
laptop and look it up if you don't believe me."

Scully was already feeling behind her seat for the 
computer. She pulled it into her lap, opened it, and 
turned it on. 

"You're actually logging on, Scully? Where did you get a 
cellular interface for your modem?"

Scully tipped her head toward her partner and rolled her 
eyes. He grinned and shook his head.

"Frohike. I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on that
guy from now on."

Scully decided to leave that remark alone and began a 
search for the information they needed. Within minutes, 
she had confirmed the meaning Mulder had provided for the 
name Felix and she had made three other connections between 
the archaic names from Genesis and the modern names of the 
missing boys.

"Okay, so Reverend Kreuger has abducted boys who will 
represent the ten brothers who sold Joseph into slavery. 
What do you think he intends to do with them, Mulder?"

"I don't know, Scully, but I'm certain he isn't going to 
shower them with gifts, forgiveness and land on which they 
can live."

Mulder increased their speed yet again, pushing the 
speedometer toward eighty-five. Scully closed her laptop, 
storing it behind her seat, then leaned forward, reached 
under her jacket, and pulled out her gun.

"We'll find them, Mulder. We'll find them."

****************
Elkins, WV
7pm

Scully and Mulder saw the police car as soon as they turned 
into the square in Elkins. Officers Minnick and Cole had 
chosen a parking place from which they could see both the front 
and side doors of the First United Methodist Church, and 
Mulder pulled in behind them.

Officer Minnick met them on the sidewalk. Mulder quickly 
briefed him on the situation and asked for a status report.

"The church van is out back, sir, and when we got here, the 
hood was still warm."

"Melody said she saw a truck, Mulder." Scully felt the 
need to be precise.

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think a four-year-
old would necessarily make that distinction, Scully. I'm 
willing to bet that Joe is in the church."

"How do you want to proceed, sir?"

Mulder paused, scanning the immediate area and the windows 
of the church.

"I'll go in the front, as if I were making a routine inquiry. 
Agent Scully will go in the side door and cover me from there. 
You and Cole stay here and be ready to come in on my 
command. Do you have a way for us to communicate?"

"Sure thing." Minnick went back to his car and opened the 
trunk. He pulled out two small radio units which Mulder 
and Scully clipped to their belts.

Mulder continued. "I'm guessing that Joe is a pawn in this 
and that he will not resist. We'll run into trouble if the 
Reverend is in there, though."

"I can't tell you that, sir. Whoever is in there arrived 
before we did."

Minnick returned to the patrol car and Mulder turned to 
Scully as they both pulled out their guns and checked their 
clips.

"I'll go into the sanctuary first. You can enter from the 
side door and track me from there. If I don't see Joe 
right away, I'll proceed to the offices at the back. After 
that, I'll go back through the sanctuary to the front and 
go down to the basement. I'll search the second floor 
last. Let me at least try to communicate with him and see 
if he'll lead me to the boys."

Scully nodded her agreement with the plan and crossed the 
street behind Mulder. She watched him go up the wide front 
steps of the church as she proceeded down the side of the 
building toward a small set of steps with a metal railing 
that led up to an unobstrusive door.

The door was locked. 

"I guess the town isn't that small," Scully muttered to 
herself. Moving quickly, she descended the steps and 
crossed the street to the patrol car. The officers had 
a lockpicking gun and she took it back to the door with 
her. She had been delayed for only a minute or two, but 
she felt a sense of urgency as she inserted the pin into 
the lock and disabled it.

Leaving the pick gun on the steps, Scully quietly opened 
the door and slid inside the building, closing the door 
behind her. She found herself in a small vestibule. On 
her left was a coat rack with a lone windbreaker hung 
haphazardly among tangled wire coat hangers. On the wall 
in front of her was a wooden sign with gold letters in 
calligraphy which read "Knock and the door shall be 
opened."

To her right was the door leading to the sanctuary. The 
window was leaded but clear enough for her to determine 
that the room was dimly lit and that at least one figure was 
moving about near the altar. Scully could see that if she 
entered the sanctuary this way, she would be on the far 
side of the altar, hidden from most of the room and the 
balcony by two flags on gold stands and -- if she stayed to 
the left when she entered -- by the railing for the steps 
that led up to the pulpit. 

She had her hand on the doorknob when she first heard the 
voice. It was a man's voice, but falsetto, singing wistful 
high notes. Even through the door, Scully could make out 
the words.

"Jesus is tenderly calling thee home,
Calling today, calling today.
Why from the sunshine of love wilt thou roam
Farther and farther away?"

She carefully opened the door and slipped through it. Now 
she could see Joe. He was facing the altar, his back to 
the balcony, and he was smiling and swaying slightly as he 
sang. His shadow moved behind him, created by the only 
light source which came from somewhere behind the altar.

Taking one step to the left, Scully saw Mulder. He was 
standing in front of the altar, looking at Joe. From where 
she stood, her view of Mulder was almost entirely of his 
back, and his face was in shadow - but Scully sensed that 
something was not right. His posture seemed less alert 
than she would have expected.

Mulder spoke then, and to Scully, his voice sounded a 
little like it did when she called him at home and woke him 
up.

"Joe, I know you are trying to save the boys. I understand 
that they need Jesus. But I need to talk with them, see 
that they're all right. Can you tell me where they are?"

Joe had stopped swaying as he listened to Mulder. Now the 
movement started again and Joe opened his mouth and began 
to sing.

"Who at my door is standing,
Patiently drawing near,
Entrance within demanding?
Whose is the voice I hear?"

The melodious voice filled the sanctuary, gently echoing 
off the walls. It's beautiful, Scully thought, so beautiful.

Mulder's voice broke through and Scully snapped back to 
attention. Whoa, she thought, I can't let it get to me. 
Stay alert, Dana.

"Joe...I...I want to join the boys. I want to be with them, to 
hear what they hear. Can you tell me how t' do that? I 
hear God's voice, Joe. I wan' to follow Jesus."

Mulder's voice was becoming slurred, but as the last words 
left her partner's lips, Scully could see Joe become still, 
then lean forward, looking into Mulder's eyes. The 
handyman's face was lit with the single light from behind 
Mulder and the look of joy that appeared was poignant. He 
began to sing, starting to rock back and forth almost 
imperceptibly.

"Jesus, keep me near the cross -"

A loud blast filled the sanctuary, the sound rebounding in 
the large space. It was followed by a horrific wail coming 
from the direction of the balcony. As Scully instinctively 
reached behind her to pull her gun, she saw Joe stumble, 
then fall to the floor. Mulder didn't move - he seemed 
transfixed.

"Mulder!" Scully shouted, but he didn't respond. She 
raised her gun and peered up at the balcony. It was so 
dark...she couldn't see.

Suddenly, in the shadows, she saw the gun barrel pointed in 
Mulder's direction. The trigger...the finger on it moving...

Please God, she thought, as she steadied her Sig, please 
help me.

She fired.

As the sound of her gunshot faded, a muffled "thump" came 
from the upper pews. Then all was silent.

********
CHAPTER ELEVEN

For a moment, Scully was frozen in place, her gun 
aimed at the balcony, the sound of her own heartbeat 
pounding in her ears.

Then the front doors of the church burst open and Minnick 
and Cole rushed into the sanctuary, guns drawn.

Scully called out to them. "We're okay. 
We need medical help immediately and I need 
one of you to check on the subject in the balcony. He's 
been shot, but he's armed."

Minnick turned and ran out the door to radio for help. 
Officer Cole disappeared for a moment, then reappeared in 
the shadows above Scully, gun drawn, moving slowly in the 
direction indicated by the angle of her Sig. She saw him 
kneel down, then stand again, gun at his side.

"He's dead. One shot that I can see, near the heart."

Scully lowered her gun and took a deep breath. She moved 
over to Mulder, who was sitting on the communion rail, 
hands on his knees, shaking his head slowly.

"Mulder? Are you all right?" Scully placed her hand on 
his shoulder.

"I'm...I'm fine, Scully. Check on Joe."

Scully knelt beside the handyman, who was lying face down on 
the carpet at Mulder's feet. She could see his head wound 
and knew what she would find, but she checked for a pulse 
anyway. There was none. She looked up at her partner.

"He's dead, Mulder."

"He was going to help us, Scully - and that bullet was 
meant for me."

"I know."

Their next communication was silent and to Scully, the 
relief and love they shared felt both familiar and new. 
Then she saw Mulder's expression change and she nodded. 
They still had to find the boys.

"Agents?"

Officer Cole called out from the balcony.

"What is it?" Scully asked, peering up into the darkness.

"Do you smell smoke?"

Scully turned to look at Mulder. He slowly stood up, 
looking around. Suddenly, all effects of his trance were 
gone and his muscles became rigid. "Cole -- check the rooms 
up there! I'll check the offices."

Cole dashed out the doors at the back of the balcony, 
headed for the hallway lined with Sunday School classrooms. 
Mulder, with Scully close behind him, ran to the other side 
of the altar and into the small suite of offices. The 
smell of smoke was faint there, and there was no sign of a 
fire. They ran back into the sanctuary and saw Cole 
rushing in from the first floor doors.

"We've got a fire! It's already in two classrooms at the 
end of the hall upstairs and it's gonna be up in the roof 
any minute!"

"Jesus," Mulder groaned. "I know those boys are here, 
Scully - we've got to find them now."

"Call the fire department," Scully shouted, but Cole was 
already on his way. As she watched him leave, she saw Len 
and Deborah rushing in. They came halfway down the left 
aisle and stopped when they saw Joe's body.

"Joe Krueger is dead." Scully gave the status report in 
short, staccato bursts of information. "His brother killed 
him by mistake when he shot at Mulder from the balcony. I 
fired one round when I saw the Reverend aim at Mulder 
again. It was a fatal shot."

Mulder spoke. "There's a fire upstairs that's rapidly 
getting out of control. I think Ben Kreuger set it. The 
boys are here, Deborah. Joe was trying to tell me something 
when he was killed."

Deborah walked rapidly down the aisle. "How much information 
did you get?"

Mulder shook his head. "He only got out one line of the 
hymn."

Scully saw Deborah's questioning look. "Joe was only able to 
communicate by singing. He might have been singing 
something that would relate to the hiding place."

Mulder threw her a look of appreciation, then his expression
changed to one of concentration as he tried to remember what
he had heard. "Jesus keep me near the cross..." he said as he turned 
toward the back of the altar.

Len pushed past Deborah and joined Mulder under the large 
cross on the wall behind the choir loft. They began 
tracing the wall with their fingers, knocking on it and 
listening for hollow places. Mulder grabbed a folding 
chair and stood on it, reaching behind the cross to check 
for hinges or latches.

"Nothing," he said.

The four agents reassembled at the communion rail. The 
smell of smoke was becoming more pervasive and Scully heard 
the sound of a window breaking.

"Maybe they're not here, Mulder," offered Len. "Maybe the 
singing didn't mean anything."

Deborah gave Len a look that Scully couldn't interpret but 
that she assumed had meaning for him, because Len 
immediately held up his hands in capitulation and said, 
"No, strike that. I'm not about to start questioning you 
at this point, not after driving an hour in the wrong 
direction."

Deborah turned back to Mulder and Scully. "Are there any 
other crosses in the church?" she asked, immediately 
rolling her eyes and adding, "That's a dumb question, isn't 
it?"

Something was nagging at Scully. She tried to relax and 
let her mind work on the puzzle. She didn't know the hymn 
Joe had sung, but that was because it hadn't been used in 
the churches she had attended. Most of what she sang at Mass 
in Father McCue's church was memorized, something that had 
surprised Craig when he had come to a service with her 
once. He'd joked that he'd been lost without his familiar 
Baptist hymnal.

"The hymnals!" Scully cried out, darting toward the first 
pew. Deborah followed her and they pulled two blue-bound 
books from a shelf under the seat.

"Damn it," Scully muttered, as she leafed through the first 
few pages. "There's no list of hymns. How are you supposed 
to find anything?" 

Deborah was already turning toward the back. "Index of first 
lines," she explained as Scully peered over her shoulder. 
"I hope Joe was starting at the beginning."

Four or five seconds ticked off loudly in Scully's head as 
Deborah flipped pages, tracing each one with her index 
finger, looking for the correct words. A crash from the 
hall upstairs preceded the SAC's yelp of "Got it! Hymn 
number 351!"

Scully and Deborah turned to the targeted page simultaneously 
and Scully read out loud.

"Jesus keep me near the cross,
There a precious fountain,
Free to all, a healing stream,
Flows from Calvary's mountain.
In the cross, in the cross,
Be my glory ever,
Till my ransomed soul shall find
Rest beyond the river."

"Rest beyond the river." Scully heard Mulder's voice 
repeat the last line, and she looked up to find that each 
of her colleagues was staring at the same thing: the blues 
and greens of the river banner hanging to the right of the altar. 

Before she could move, Mulder and Len were there, pulling 
frantically at the fabric, ripping it off its anchor near the floor, 
then stepping back as they tried to yank it from its mooring 
twelve feet up. The stitching was strong but finally they all 
heard the tearing of cloth and saw the river and its banks 
float to the floor.

The panel in the wall where the banner had hung wasn't even 
well-hidden. Len quickly found the latch and sprung it, 
pulling at the edge of the panel to open it into the 
sanctuary. He held up a hand in warning as he looked down.

"Straight drop," he announced, "but there's a ladder."

He was turning and backing into the opening as he spoke. 
He descended out of sight quickly, and Mulder was right 
behind him, pulling out his flashlight before climbing 
down. As distant sirens became audible, Deborah and Scully 
peered down into the stone-lined shaft. Len and 
Mulder had disappeared and there were no sounds 
from the darkness below.

A crackling sound made Scully turn and look up at the 
balcony. Flames were shooting through from the doors to 
the upper hallway. Some had caught the fabric of the 
cushions on the upper pews. The fire was spreading rapidly 
and dense smoke was accumulating high in the polished wood 
rafters of the sanctuary. Scully turned back to the secret 
doorway and began a silent, almost unconscious prayer. She 
felt a brush against her left wrist and then Deborah's hand 
in hers.

Suddenly, shadows appeared at the base of the ladder and 
Mulder's voice called out. "They're coming up!"

A blond head of short, spiky hair appeared in the shaft, 
rising slowly. Scully reached down and took the hand of 
the first boy as he reached the top of the ladder, pulling him 
up and out onto the altar. He stumbled down to the first pew 
and collapsed onto its burgundy cushion, looking dazed.

"No, don't sit down!" Scully followed the teenager and 
pulled at his arms until he stood up. "The church is on 
fire, you have to get out of here." She turned to the 
altar and saw Deborah pulling the second boy out of the 
shaft, then looked toward the front of the church and saw 
Minnick and Cole rushing in ahead of the first 
firefighters.

"Minnick! Cole! We've got the boys! Come help us get them 
out!" Scully pushed the boy at her side up the aisle then 
turned and grabbed the second young man, urging him in the 
same direction. She coughed as acrid smoke began filling 
the air around her, but turned quickly back to the altar.

Together, Deborah and Scully helped the other eight boys 
climb out into the sanctuary where they were helped out of 
the church by an ever increasing number of officers and 
firefighters. Len followed the last boy up and gasped as 
he saw the flames and smoke that were now consuming the 
balcony.

"Jesus, Mulder," he shouted, turning back to look down the 
ladder, "Get your ass up here!"

With that, he was up and out of the hole, pulling Deborah 
with him as he stepped away from the opening. Scully had 
not moved. She stared down the shaft, willing her stinging 
eyes to see something, anything, but there was no movement, 
no sound from below.

A loud cracking sound came from behind her, but she could 
not drag her eyes from the ladder. Another crack and then 
a huge chaotic crashing noise told her that the balcony was 
giving way, but still she gripped the sides of the opening and 
leaned forward.

"Scully!" She felt Deborah's hand pulling on her arm. 
"We've got to get out of here. The whole place is going 
up."

Scully shook her off, then turned to look at Len. "Where 
is he? Why didn't you wait for him?"

"He was right behind me, Scully, I swear. Maybe he went 
back for - "

Len bent over, coughing loudly. Deborah leaned down to help 
hold him up, then began coughing herself. She looked up at 
Scully and silently pleaded with her to follow them out the 
side door of the church. 

Scully felt the panic inside her boiling over and she 
turned again to the opening in the wall. She knelt down at 
the top of the ladder, supporting herself with her left 
hand as she reached down with her right. She closed her 
eyes.

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence of things not seen."

For a moment, her fingers felt only the cool air of the 
shaft. Then, abruptly, they were enveloped by the warmth 
of a familiar hand and Scully opened her eyes and saw the 
deep hazel gaze of her partner looking up at her.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder said. "Help me up?"

********
CHAPTER TWELVE


"Hey, waiter! This service is slower than a Reticulan
flukeworm in hibernation! Hop to it!"

Mulder grinned as he tipped his chair back against the
front window of the tea room and folded his arms across his
chest. He was rewarded for his shout by the sight of
Len's curly dark hair appearing from behind the counter.
The hair was followed by Len's face, pursed in mock
indignation.

"Hey, Spooky. You want coffee? Get your own nudjen ass
over here. I can't figure out what any of this stuff is."
Len waved his arms out to his sides, seeming to indicate an
infinite amount of mysterious items behind and below the
bar.

The owner of the tea room, awakened in his upstairs
apartment by the sirens and chaos of the fire across the
square, had acquiesced when Deborah has asked if they could use
the establishment while they waited for the fire department
to finish putting out the blaze in the shell of the church.
He had, however, promptly gone back to bed, asking them in
a sleepy voice to shut the door on their way out.

Mulder rolled his eyes and rocked the chair forward,
hoisting himself upright in the same move. "Geez, Len, you
insult me in Yiddish when I'm the one doing all the work!
I find the boys, I bring along a partner with a great aim,
and let us not forget who remembered to look for a journal..."

"...and nearly got himself killed in the process," said the
partner wryly. Scully was seated next to Deborah on a couch
along the far wall; both were perusing the gold-leafed book
that Mulder had found at the last minute and brought up
with him from the secret basement room.

Deborah was reading. "Mulder, Len - did you say you saw some
valuables down there?"

Len leaned on the bar and answered as Mulder began rooting
around below him, looking for plain coffee grounds.

"Yeah, we did. I saw a silver bowl and some jewelry.
Mulder, didn't you say you saw some stuff?"

"Bottle...rare...some kind of..." was all they heard before a
loud clatter obliterated whatever information Mulder was
trying to convey. "Shit. Hey - what the hell are
`steeping balls'?!"

Deborah and Scully exchanged knowing smiles and returned
their attention to the book.

"It looks like the Reverend was going to plant stolen items
with the boys," said Scully, turning a page in the journal
and comparing it with the open Bible on the couch cushion
to her left. "I think that the town was meant to think
that the boys had formed some sort of gang which met in the
secret room without the knowledge of Reverend Krueger or
Joe. The fire would have been set to look like an accident
caused by the boys and with the stolen items there, it
would have looked like they were thieves."

"Which does parallel Genesis," Len commented, "though this
Reverend was some kind of arrogant, warping the story to
fit his obsession. And what he did...those boys... farblondzhet."
Seeing Deborah and Scully's curious expressions, he translated.
"Bewildered, lost."

Scully nodded, thinking of the pale, scared faces of the
boys as each had left with family, assured by the agents
that tomorrow was soon enough for them to answer questions.

"And this was supposed to restore Joe to him as Joseph
was restored to Benjamin in the Bible?" asked Deborah.
"What kind of sense does that make?"

Her question quickly became rhetorical as a tall, dark
figure pushed open the door of the tea room.

"'Scuse me," said Craig. "I'm looking for the heroes of the
hour? Crack shots? Rescuers extraordinaire?" He held up
two six packs of beer and was greeted with cheering from
the men behind the coffee bar.

"Craig, you are the answer to a prayer," Len declared, as he
and Mulder quickly dragged the pathologist over to the
counter where they began to pull out glasses and napkins.

Scully smiled at the trio, but sighed, weary with the
strain of the evening and a persistent melancholy. She was
startled to feel Deborah's hand on top of hers and looked up
to see a penetrating but understanding look from her SAC.

"It's the way they handle it, right?" Deborah said gently.
"It helps to be near them now, but you'll probably need some
quiet time later."

Scully felt an unfamiliar warmth surround her. How long
has it been, she thought, since I sat with another woman who
saw things as I do? She smiled at Deborah and turned her
palm up so she could squeeze the woman's hand in
appreciation.

She turned again to the men and saw Mulder framed by the
animated faces of Len and Craig, who were already deep in some
indecipherable debate. His eyes were on her, only her, and
they made a promise that she understood immediately.

Quiet, if she needed it. Strong arms around her, if she
wanted them. Respect, always.

Partners, friends, lovers. She now had faith that they
could be all three.

***************
The Substance of Things
EPILOGUE

Final Case Notes
Case X-144-25
SA Dana Scully

September 11, 1999

Today I received Craig Reskin's final report on the 
autopsy of Joseph Krueger. As expected, an examination 
of the brain showed pre-existing injuries to the left temporal 
and parietal lobes which are consistent with the disabilities 
I observed. However, my research and consultations this
week -- while confirming that some people with injury 
or stroke-related language impairments retain the ability to 
sing -- have not provided an explanation for either the 
clarity of Joe's singing or for its hypnotic effect on listeners.

A review of Reverend Benjamin Krueger's journal by 
Agents Mulder and Cavanaugh has revealed that he held 
himself responsible for his brother's bicycle accident, as Joe 
was on an errand for the Reverend when he was hit
by the bus. Journal entries for the subsequent years indicate 
a progressively worsening psychological state for Reverend 
Krueger that apparently led to kidnappings in Elkins and his 
attempt to "restore" his brother to him.

The FBI has issued commendations for Chief Randall 
Grey and the -

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

Scully heard a low chuckle from just behind her head. "If you 
have to ask, G-woman, I guess I'm not doing it right."

Scully moaned appreciatively and tipped her head forward 
as Mulder's long fingers massaged her shoulders and neck. 
She listened to the crackle of the fire in her fireplace and, 
breathing deeply, took in the smell of burning wood mingling 
with the apple spice candle burning on her desk. The early
fall day had turned unexpectedly chilly in late afternoon and 
she had eagerly made the first fire of the season.

"Are you almost finished?" Mulder's voice was seductive 
and the feeling of his breath on her neck was sending signals 
to her body that were decidedly not work-related.

"Almost...I just need to..." Mulder's fingers came over her 
shoulders and began exploring under the scooped neck of 
her jersey top. Scully reconsidered as she tilted her head to 
one side. "I guess I could finish this tomorrow..."

"Good idea," he whispered, slipping his hands down further 
and unbuttoning the first button of her top. "After all, we 
haven't celebrated the New Year, yet." The second button 
yielded to his fingers.

"I sent Len a Rosh Hashanah card," she replied, "so I guess 
it's appropriate that we recognize the occasion." She was 
beginning to feel tipsy, intoxicated by the feeling of Mulder's 
hands on her. His head was bent over her shoulder now 
as the last of the buttons came free and he parted the sides 
of her blouse. Scully bent her head back as the air of the 
room brushed the top of her breasts, then gasped as Mulder 
kissed her neck, his lips wet and warm.

"Can I interest you in turning in early, Agent Scully?" her 
partner asked as he slipped her bra straps off her shoulders.

"Well...I was going to go to bed early anyway..." She moaned 
again as Mulder slipped his hands into the cups of her bra 
and gently pinched her nipples.

"I've already set the alarm," he said, "you won't miss early 
Mass." His hands moved to the button of her jeans.

"Well in that case..." Scully firmly pushed Mulder's hands away 
and turned to the side of her chair, tugging on the belt loops 
of his jeans until he was standing in front of her. He was 
bare-chested, but she hardly glanced up, her attention and 
fingers drawn instead to the button and zipper in front of her. 
She undid the button with exaggerated care and slid the
zipper down over the bulge underneath as slowly as she could, 
chuckling as she heard his breathing quicken.

A tug here and there and her goal was revealed, thick and 
partially erect. "I waited much too long to get aquainted with 
you," she whispered as she wrapped one hand around the shaft, 
"so I need to make up for lost time."

Mulder's query "What did you say, Scu--" was interrupted by 
his loud groan as Scully put her lips on his cock and began 
circling the tip with her tongue. She felt him move slightly to 
the right and, out of the corner of her eye, saw him brace 
himself on the edge of the desk. She smiled around
his growing erection, taking him in further and slipping her 
other hand under him to add to her caresses.

A few moments more and Mulder was pushing her away, 
then pulling her to her feet. "Not so fast, partner. We've still 
got some celebrating to do." He was breathing hard and 
Scully tilted her head, teasing him.

"You'll have to get dressed if you want me to take you out, 
Mulder. I don't think that the drive-through guy at McDonald's 
will apprecia--Oh!" She gasped as Mulder lifted her up and 
deposited her on the end of the desk. "My laptop!"

"Laptop, schmaptop," Mulder muttered as he pushed its cover 
down and slid the computer to one side. "Files, schmiles," he 
continued as he picked up a pile of papers and dropped them 
to the floor. "Candle...well, we don't want another fire, do we?" 
He picked up the candle and reached over the desk to set it 
on the nearby windowsill. "Now, where were we?" he muttered, 
coming back to stand between her legs. "Oh, yeah..."

He finished the work he had begun on her jeans, prompting 
her wordlessly to lift up so that he could slide them down her 
legs along with her panties. Then he pulled the chair around to 
the side of the desk and sat down, his face now level with the 
curls between her legs. "This," he declared, looking up at her 
with his own teasing expression, "is the only kind of work
one should be doing on a Saturday."

Scully had one second to consider protesting the word "work" 
before Mulder's tongue touched her and she lost all ability to 
speak coherently. Soon it was all she could do to put her 
arms behind her and brace her hands on the top of the desk. 
Spreading her legs wider she invited him to go deeper and
he did, using his lips and tongue and fingers to bring her closer 
and closer to the edge until she was thrusting up and he was 
covering her clit with his mouth and she was screaming his 
name and shattering into orgasm and collapsing back onto 
the desk, the laptop under her head.

She draped one arm over her forehead as Mulder kissed his 
way up her body. When he reached her breasts she heard 
him murmur "Bedroom?" before taking one nipple into his 
mouth and circling it with his tongue.

"No," she moaned, still tingling, "right here," and she felt his 
grin before he stood and pulled her hips toward him and pushed 
inside her with one thrust.

************

Later, lying in the curve of Mulder's body in the comfort of 
her bed, Scully rubbed one elbow gingerly as she listened to his 
gentle snoring. She was going to be sore sitting in the pew at 
Mass in the morning, and her body probably wasn't going to 
appreciate kneeling, either. Note to self, she thought, alternative 
furniture sex was not a good idea the night before church.

She pulled Mulder's arm more firmly around her and he 
responded, unconsciously pulling his legs up to create a tighter 
cocoon. She smiled into the darkness, thinking about the 
changes the past week had brought.

In wrapping up her file on the Elkins kidnapping, she had 
reread the story of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis. In the 
last chapter of the book, she had come upon a scene in which 
Joseph's brothers throw themselves down in front of him and 
declare themselves unworthy of his love. Joseph's response 
now was echoing in Scully's head as she lay in the safety of her
lover's arms.

"What you meant for evil, God meant for good."

The evil was all around them and, in some ways, she and Mulder 
had made themselves targets. People they loved, and those 
they did not, had suffered. She herself had survived more than 
she ever could have imagined.

Yet when she had dropped her defenses and trusted God to help 
her navigate an uncharted course, she had found something good. 
Something wonderful. And now she found that she could hope 
for more.

The substance of things, she thought, is faith.

************

Author's Notes:

~ My everlasting thanks to my betas, Dasha K, Plausible 
Deniability, and Shari is no where near thanks enough. <g> 
They encouraged, edited, edited, edited...and they gave me 
the freedom to write without over-analyzing for the first time 
since I was a child. Their generosity was overwhelming.

~ Meg and Kim gave me additional help and support and 
made key suggestions just when I needed them.

~ There's a group of online friends who shall remain nameless 
-- who nevertheless are the heart and soul of this story. 
Their love and friendship is a continuing blessing.

~ The story of Joseph and his brothers can be found in the 
book of Genesis, starting in Chapter 35 or so. Of course, to 
understand Joseph fully, you really want to know about his father 
Jacob -- whose father, Isaac, had a pretty traumatic childhood 
experience at the hands of his father, Abraham....<g>

~ An interesting take on the whole family can be found in 
John Sanford's "The Man Who Wrestled With God." It's the 
book that got me thinking again about the Joseph story in Genesis.

~ The Psalm quoted throughout is Psalm 73. "Faith is the 
substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" 
is from the book of Hebrews: Chapter 11, Verse 1.

~ The hymns:
Jesus Is Tenderly Calling
Who At My Door Is Standing
Jesus, Keep Me Near The Cross
can be found in many Protestant hymnals. 

~While it is true that some people who have survived strokes 
and traumatic brain injuries resulting in expressive language 
impairment retain the ability to sing, the singing is not usually 
independent or clearly articulated. In addition, few if any 
such people would be able to retrieve specific song lyrics 
and use them as a way to respond to questions. So Joe's 
ability would appropriately be classified as an X-File. <g>

~ Feel free to read the few other stories I've written during 
the last year and a half. Visit them at http://jerrycanary.home.att.net/

~ Feedback is fabulous. Bring it on! jerrycanary@worldnet.att.net