FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday
9:05 am

    The phone was on its sixth ring by the time Mulder managed to get the door open to the basement
office that housed the X-files.  He was somehow able to get to the phone halfway through the seventh
ring without spilling either the two large coffees or the new case file he was carrying.
    “Mulder.”
    “Agent Mulder, this is Dave Erickson up in Special Communications.”
    “Agent Erickson! You’re just the person I need to talk to. In fact, I was planning to give you a call
this morning. What can I do for you?”
    “Actually, I was looking for Dana, uh, I mean Agent Scully. She had asked me to get some
information for her earlier, and I was calling to give her the results. Is she there?” The young agent
sounded hopeful, and Mulder had to roll his eyes. ** Good lord, not another Pendrell! **
    “No, sorry, she’s not in yet this morning. If you’d like to give the information to me, I’d be happy
to pass along the message.”  When the other agent hesitated, Mulder decided to take pity on the
poor, besotted fool. “Or, if you’d rather, I can have her call you when she gets in.”
    Mulder could practically see the idiotic grin through the telephone. “If you could have her call me,
that would be great, uh, I mean fine, that would be fine,” he stammered. “You said you wanted to
talk to me about something, Agent Mulder?”
    “What? Oh, yes. I received a phone call at 3:15 this morning, and I need to know what number
that call was placed from.” He gave the agent his home phone number. “Can you get me that
information?”
    There was a second of hesitation before the reply came. “Yeah, I can get it.” His response
was somewhat less than exuberant, and Mulder wondered what on earth could’ve happened in
the last twenty seconds to darken the other agent’s mood.
    “In fact, I have it right here. According to Bell Atlantic phone records, there was a call at 3:15
this morning, lasting two minutes and twenty-five seconds in duration, placed from Agent Scully’s
home phone number to yours.”
    Mulder was amazed. “How did you do that so fast?”
    Mulder heard the door open behind him and turned to see Scully enter the office as the lovesick
Agent Erickson sighed in his ear. “That’s the same information that Agent Scully asked me for.”
    Scully set her briefcase down on the desk and motioned towards the two cups of coffee. He
nodded at her and continued his conversation.
    “Oh, she did, did she?” He watched his partner with interest as she poured cream into one of
the styrofoam cups. “When was this exactly?”
    “Around 5:30 this morning. I guess she won’t need to call me back now.” He couldn’t have
sounded more dejected if someone had walked in and told him his dog just died, Mulder was
sure. Poor guy.
    “Well, thank you very much Agent Erickson. Agent Scully and I both appreciate your efforts.”
    At the mention of the agent’s name, Scully looked up quickly, nearly spilling her coffee. Mulder
gave her a knowing grin as he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He leaned back in his chair,
fingers laced behind his head. “So…” he began.
    “So?”
    “So, I thought you were of the opinion that your redial button was malfunctioning?”
    “I am Mulder, that’s why I asked him to check my outgoing calls. So I could prove it to you.”
    “No, I don’t think so. You didn’t have to call at 5:30 in the morning for that. Admit it Scully.
You were curious. You still are.”
    She glared at him, and he knew he had her. “Well, are you going to tell me what he said, or
do I have to call and ask him myself?”
    “While I’m sure it would make Agent Erickson’s week to hear from you twice in one day,
I’ll save you the trouble. He said exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. At 3:15 this
morning, a phone call was made from your phone to mine, a call that lasted exactly two minutes
and twenty-five seconds. And during those two and a half minutes, Scully, you sent me to a
deserted street in downtown Arlington to save a young woman from certain death.”
    She looked perplexed. “Mulder, what you’re suggesting, it just isn’t possible. You realize that,
don’t you? Just how completely unlikely your story is?”
    “How else would you explain it Scully? We have the proof now. You did call me. As for whether
or not the rest of it happened, I’ll get you a copy of the police report to read. How else can you
explain the events that occurred once I arrived at the abandoned bakery that you sent me to?”
    “It…” She trailed off, unable to come up an argument. She sighed heavily. “I don’t know Mulder.
You’re right, I don’t have a better explanation, but I can’t just blindly accept yours without more
evidence either. So, unless you’ve got the proverbial smoking gun hidden in your desk, let’s just
chalk this one up to coincidence, shall we?”
    Mulder wanted to argue, but knew his partner well enough to realize that he could talk himself
blue in the face and she still wouldn’t be convinced. The scientist in her would settle for nothing less
than hard evidence, solid facts that proved to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that she herself had
sent him on a mission that had saved a young woman’s life, and then had given him a warning which
had saved his own. And all this accomplished while she lay sound asleep in her own bed, her
conscious mind blissfully unaware of her subconscious’ participation in the evening’s festivities.
    He decided to spare them both the frustrations that would surely arise should he choose to
continue the conversation without this evidence, this “smoking gun” that her orderly mind found
necessary to sanction belief, and changed the subject.
     “Ok then Scully, how do you feel about Maryland’s Eastern Shore?”
    “Love the seafood, hate the jellyfish. What’s over there?”
    “Well, a few hours from now, we will be.” He opened up the case file on his desk and withdrew
several pictures, which he spread out for her inspection. “Crop circles, Scully. Crop circles and
missing teenagers. On two consecutive mornings, the owners of two adjacent farms awoke to find
their fields riddled with crop circles, and their teenage children missing.”
He separated the pictures into two sets of three. Indicating the first group, he said, “On
Wednesday morning, Jeff Patterson, a tobacco farmer in rural Jonesboro, Maryland found three
crop circles cut into the tobacco field closest to his house. He ran into the house to wake his
nineteen year old son, Joshua, but found the boy’s bedroom empty.”
    One of the pictures was of a handsome young man with blonde hair and green eyes wearing a
black cap and gown, presumably a graduation picture of Joshua Patterson. The other two pictures
were of the damage to the crops, one an aerial view of all three circles, the other a grainy close-up
of the largest of the trio.
    Scully’s eyes went to the second set of pictures as Mulder continued his briefing.
    “On Thursday morning, at the farm next door, Sandie Colby chased the family cat into the
corn field next to their house. Seems the recalcitrant kitty was trying to avoid an early morning
appointment with the vet. She ran after him for approximately 10 yards when she found herself
standing in the middle of a crop circle cut into the corn. Since she’d already heard about the
incident at her neighbors’ farm, she returned to the house to check on her family only to find
that her eighteen-year-old daughter Tracey was missing.”
    The second group of pictures contained similar shots of crop circles, one from the air, the
other close up. The third photo was of a pretty brown-haired girl, apparently Tracey, smiling
brilliantly at something or someone outside the camera’s view.
    “Neither teen has been seen or heard from since,” continued Mulder, “and because of the
obvious implications of the evidence at hand, the local police turned the case over to us as of
this morning.”
    “Am I to assume that by ‘obvious implications’ you’re suggesting that the presence of the
crop circles indicates some kind of alien abduction scenario?”
    “Well, that’s why the case was given to us. As far whether or not that is what actually
transpired, that’s what we’re going to find out. Ever been to Jonesboro, Scully?”
    “Can’t say that I have. Are we going now, then?” She replaced the photos and put the
case file in her briefcase.
    “Uh, yeah, as soon as I find my keys.” He began patting down his pockets, and when that
turned up nothing, he started searching the desktop.
    Scully, checking her briefcase to be sure she had a pen and pad of paper, answered
without even looking up. “They’re on the floor between the desk and the file cabinet.”
    Mulder had the keys in his hand and was midway through the act of straightening when
it struck him that she hadn’t yet been to that side of his desk, and therefore could not have
possibly seen the keys. He gaped at her.
    She laughed at his dumbstruck expression. “Come on Mulder. I don’t have to be psychic
to know that your keys end up down there at least three times a week. Maybe if you set
them gently on the desk instead of tossing them from across the room they wouldn’t slide
off onto the floor.”
    He looked at her for a moment longer, cocking one eyebrow in an imitation of her usual
look of skepticism, trying to decide if she had really only been guessing or if there was more
to it than that.
    “It was an educated guess Mulder, nothing more. Let’s go.” She picked up her briefcase
and laptop and headed for the door. As he came up behind her, he felt rather than saw
something land on his foot. He bent down to retrieve the object and found a silver bracelet
made up of seven owls in profile, each about an inch in length. The right eye, the only eye
visible in each, was set with a small, rounded, milky-white stone.
    “Hey Scully, did you drop this?”
    She turned to examine the object in question. “My bracelet! I didn’t even hear it fall.
Thanks Mulder.”
    “Looks like the clasp is a little loose. You’d better get that fixed before you lose it.
Since when did you become such an owl lover anyway, Scully?”
    She held out her hand to take the bracelet, but instead he turned her palm face down
and fastened it on her wrist himself.
     “I’m not really. I just saw it, and…liked it for some reason.  So I bought it.” She seemed
almost embarrassed by her impulsive purchase.
    “Ooh Scully, how spontaneous of you! Pretty soon you’ll start doing your laundry on
Wednesdays instead of Thursdays and eating peanut butter straight out of the jar!”
    She punched him in the arm as they walked towards the elevator. “Shut up, Mulder.”

Friday
6:30pm

    They rode back towards D.C. in companionable silence, Mulder at the wheel and Scully
in the passenger seat using her laptop to type up the field report that would declare the
Patterson/Colby case solved and closed. The kids were no longer missing, having been
tracked down to a small motel in Ocean City, Maryland where they had gone to consummate
their marriage.
    The crop circles and subsequent “alien abduction” scenario were part of a plan masterminded
by the two teens to hide the reality of their elopement from their parents until it was too late for
them to intervene. It had taken a ten second examination of one of the crop circles for Mulder
to determine that whatever created them had definite earthly origins. That something had turned
out to be a manual push-mower owned by the senior Mr. Patterson. From there it was simply
a matter of a few well-placed questions posed to the parents and the truth began to unfold.
    Josh and Tracey had been long-time sweethearts who were anxious to marry now that they
both had finished high school. Their parents were equally adamant that they wait a few years
before making such a long-term commitment. Due to the distraction caused by the crop
mutilation, no one thought to check the teens’ bedrooms for missing items. Once it was
determined that there were articles of clothing and luggage missing in each case, any thoughts
of foul play were ruled out. One usually didn’t have time to pack a bag when being abducted
by aliens…or humans, for that matter.
    A quick search of county records revealed that two weeks prior, a marriage license had
been issued to a Mr. Joshua Patterson and a Miss Tracey Colby.  From there it was only a
matter of finding the runaways, which proved to be a simple task in itself.
    The suggestion to Tracey’s best friend, Kristen, that withholding her friends’ location could
be construed as ‘aiding and abetting’ the felony of ‘willfully and maliciously misleading a federal
agent’, was all it took to get the city, motel name, room number, and phone number of the happy
couple.
    Mulder grinned to himself, imagining the looks on the young newlywed’s faces when their
parents arrived shortly to interrupt their honeymoon. He thought it was a safe bet that they’d
soon be wishing they had been abducted by aliens.
    The soft clicking of the computer keys ended abruptly, rousing Mulder from his thoughts.
A quick glance at the passenger seat revealed Scully, fingers motionless over the keyboard,
head back against the seat, eyes closed. She appeared to be about a minute or two from falling
asleep.
    “Report finished?” he questioned.
    Without opening her eyes or turning in his direction, she replied. “Um-hmm.”
    “You planning to turn off that computer before you start your nap?” His voice carried
just the slightest hint of amusement.
    She gave a mighty yawn and turned her head towards him slightly, trying to get more
comfortable. “In a minute.”
    Mulder doubted she would still be awake in a minute, much less cognizant enough to
shut down the computer. Rather than risk rear-ending the car in front of them by doing it
for her, he decided not to worry about it. Thanks to the five or six cups of coffee he’d had
over the course of the afternoon, he would need to make a stop soon anyway, and would
take care of it then. He turned on the radio for background noise, and returned his attention
to the highway in front of him.
    They rode that way for ten or fifteen minutes before an unexpected noise overshadowed
the soft music emanating from the radio and Scully’s even softer breathing. The unmistakable
sound of typing.
    Mulder looked over, surprised that his partner had awakened so abruptly. He had glanced
in her direction less than two minutes ago, and had been quite certain she was sound asleep.
What he saw now made him do a double take.
    To look at her face, Scully appeared to be sleeping, head back against the headrest, eyes
closed, lips slightly parted, breathing deep and even. Her fingers however, seemed to have a
life of their own as they danced over the keyboard in her lap. ** Well, this is a new
one, ** he thought. ** I’ve seen people walk in their sleep and talk in their sleep, but this
is the first time I’ve ever seen someone type in their sleep! **
    After two minutes or so of the incessant sleep-typing, Mulder decided to wake Scully
before she completely ruined the report she’d written. Without taking his eyes from the road,
he reached over to gently still her hands, but jerked his own hand back when he encountered
something unexpectedly warm.
    Surprised, he diverted his attention from the highway long enough to try and determine the
source of the strange heat. His gaze was drawn immediately to the bracelet on her left wrist,
the owl bracelet that he himself had placed there earlier that morning. It was glowing. Or
rather, the white stones that marked the one visible eye on each of the seven owls were glowing.
      Each individual stone shone brightly as if lit from within by a fire, and Mulder stretched
out a tentative finger to touch one. The white gem was unnaturally warm under his hand,
but quickly grew cool as Mulder shifted his attention briefly back to the surrounding traffic.
At the sudden change in temperature, he looked back to find that the stones had returned
to their normal state, all traces of the mysterious shine gone.
    He blinked, and found himself wondering if he’d imagined their previous luminescence, or if
perhaps it had merely been the light from the setting sun playing tricks on him. He moved his
hand to Scully’s shoulder and shook gently.
    “Scully? Hey Scully, time to rise and shine.”
    There was no response from the sleeping redhead, so he shook her a little harder.
    “Come on Sleeping Beauty, I told you it’s time to wake up. Don’t make me have to pull
over and wake you up Disney style.”
    Finally she began to stir, and it occurred to him that she had been unusually slow to wake
when he’d come to her apartment earlier that morning as well.
    She opened her eyes and blinked at him tiredly. “Where are we?”
    “Still on Route 50, about fifteen miles east of the Bay Bridge.”
    “Well, why’d you wake me up then? Do you need me to drive?”
    “No, I was afraid you might sprain a finger.” As usual, he was unable to suppress his
automatic, sarcastic response. “Besides, I figured that if I let you ruin that field report in your
sleep, you might make me do it over, and you know how much I love paperwork.”
    “Mulder, start making sense, or I’m going back to my nap.”
    “Scully, you were engaged in a phenomenon that I have never before witnessed in all of
our history with the X-files.” She scowled at him. “You were typing in your sleep.”
    “Mulder, what the hell are you talking … about…” Her question trailed off as she stared
at the computer screen.
    Mulder took her silence to mean that the field report was ruined. “Well, Agent Scully?
What’s the damage?”
    Her reply was a ragged whisper. “Mulder, this isn’t funny.” She had yet to take her eyes
away from the word-filled screen, unable to believe what she was seeing.
    “Aww, come on Scully, I was only kidding before. I’ll redo it if you don’t want to. It’s
not a big deal.”
    “Mulder, when did you do this? And how could – how could you write these things? Is
this supposed to be a joke?” Her voice had an edge to it that he didn’t recognize at first,
because it was something he had rarely before witnessed in his partner – hysteria.
    The Dana Scully that he knew prided herself on being calm, cool, and collected at all times,
in all situations, and the few times he had seen that composure slip a notch or two had all
been occasions that would have sent a lesser woman – or man, for that matter – screaming
for the hills. She had faced down liver-eating mutants, mothmen, government conspiracies
and even cancer without becoming a candidate for a rubber room, and yet, here she was,
nearly in tears over a ruined field report?
    Mulder was baffled. The only definite thing his mind was able to grasp was that she thought
he was playing a trick on her. But even if that had been the case, her typical reaction would’ve
been to threaten him with bodily harm if he ever dared defile one of her sacred field reports
again, and the only tears would be his own tears of pain. It simply wasn’t like Scully to get
this upset over something so inconsequential, and he felt the need to reassure her.
    “No, Scully, I told you, you were typing in your sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up
sooner, before the report was ruined, but it just didn’t occur to me right away. Don’t worry
about it though, I told you I’ll rewrite it once we get back to D.C., ok?”
    He felt rather than saw her eyes searching his face, trying to determine his sincerity.
He turned to give her a reassuring smile, and noticed her pallor for the first time.
    “Jesus Scully, you’re white as a sheet! What is it?”
    She ignored his question and instead posed one of her own, her voice almost childlike.
    “You really didn’t do this?”
    “Scout’s honor.” Taking one hand off the wheel, he held up two fingers in the shape
of a ‘V’. “Scully, you know, I do value my life somewhat. I would never risk it unnecessarily
by messing with one of your…Scully?”
    Before his eyes, her face went from white to a sickly gray, as she stared at him wide-eyed
for a moment before turning back to the computer screen.
    “Mulder, I think maybe you’d better stop the car.”
     Judging by her color, Mulder assumed she was going to be sick and began to pull
over to the side of the highway, only to be waved on by her. “No, take this next exit.
There should be a McDonalds. Stop there.”
    Her tone of voice implied to Mulder that this was perhaps the last place on Earth
she wanted to be headed, but he followed her instructions nonetheless, sensing that
she had not chosen this particular restaurant at random. And he was fairly certain
that she wasn’t suddenly craving a Big Mac.
    Neither spoke for the minute or two it took to reach the restaurant. As they entered
the parking lot, Mulder turned towards the right, following the directional arrows on the
pavement. He headed for the first empty space, only to be stopped once again by his
partner.
    “No Mulder, go around to the other side. By the drive-thru.”
    He shrugged his assent and drove around to the other side of the lot. She pointed
out a spot to him, giving him a final direction as they approached. “Back in.”
    Mulder was mystified by his partner’s erratic behavior. The odd sleep-typing, her
obvious distress thinking he’d destroyed their field report as a practical joke, then becoming
even more upset to learn that she’d done it herself, these things were all completely out of
character for her. He wanted to question her, ask her what had her so upset, and why they
were stopping at McDonalds of all places, one of her least favorite restaurants in the universe.
    Instead, he followed her directions without question, trusting his partner to explain herself
to him as soon as she was able. But when she pulled her gun and checked the clip to make
sure it was fully loaded and ready to fire, he was unable to hold his curiosity in check any
longer. He finished backing the car into its slot, shut off the engine and turned to his partner.
    “Uh, Scully, you aren’t planning to shoot me again, are you? I swear I didn’t touch that
report!” He tried to hide behind humor the fact that she was beginning to make him slightly
nervous.
    She rolled her eyes at him and ignored his question, reholstering her weapon.
    “Turn the engine back on.” He opened his mouth to protest, to demand an explanation,
but she stopped him. “Please Mulder?”
    That edge was back to her voice. Not as obvious as before, when he’d thought she was
near tears, but there nonetheless, enough to have him reaching for the ignition before she’d
even completed his name.
    Once the car was running again, he turned in his seat, looking at her expectantly. She
took a deep breath, and began, “Mulder…” and then stopped as something else occurred
to her. “What time is it?”
    Mulder was beginning to think that one of them might be going insane and for once,
it wasn’t him. “It’s 6:57. Scully, what the hell is going on?”
    “6:57,” she repeated quietly. She seemed to consider this for a moment before
whispering, “Ok, that’s good.” She cleared her throat and returned her attention to her partner.
    “I’d explain, but I’m not sure that I can, Mulder. You need to see this for yourself.” She
handed him the laptop, then sat back to watch his reaction.
    He looked at the screen, fully expecting to see line after line of gibberish where their field
report was supposed to be. When that wasn’t the case, his mouth dropped open, and he
looked to his partner for confirmation. Apparently this was the reaction she’d been
anticipating, because she nodded at him.
    “Read it.”
    He held her gaze with his own for a moment before turning back to the computer
and beginning to read…

******

…and upon locating the two subjects known as Joshua Patterson and Tracey Colby Patterson
in the Surf and Sun Motel at 342 Ocean Highway in Ocean City, Maryland, it is the
recommendation of these two agents that case number X-2145184 be considered
officially solved and closed. Oh god we have to help her he’s going to hurt her kill
her he’s a monster wants to do terrible awful things and she’s so little just a baby
only 4 years old the same age Emily would be oh god please let us stop him she’s
so pretty curly blond hair and big green eyes her mother doesn’t even realize what’s
happened yet thinks she just wandered off with her older sister but he took her took
her right from their own backyard in stevensville right by the bridge he’s been watching
waiting for his chance and he finally took it dressed up in a gas company uniform walked
right in and took her she’s a curious little thing came over to see what he was doing while
he pretended to read the meter her mother had run in to answer the phone made it so easy
so easy before she knew what was happening he had the cloth over her face the cloth with
the chloroform on it no other houses around no one saw him put her in his van white work
van no lettering no windows XTM467 by the time her mother came back they were gone she’s
wasting time checking the house maybe she didn’t notice Katie come inside she’s in their
bedroom getting worried now Kelly’s in there reading a book hasn’t seen her little sister
the fear’s setting in now the panic she’s in the backyard again calling her name no answer
running around to the front yard calling her over and over finally remembering the meter
reader but it’s too late she doesn’t have a good description didn’t see his van the police
won’t catch up to him until it’s too late he’s already on route 50 moving east grinning to
himself thinking of what he wants to do with her when he gets there to his secret place small
cabin in the woods no one around for miles not far from here not far at all 20 miles and
they’ll be there and then they can play he’s impatient can’t wait it’s been too long since
the last one and that one didn’t last nearly long enough he was frail sickly didn’t last couldn’t
finish the game this one will be much better he’ll be more careful she looks strong and sturdy
they’ll have great fun together he’s getting hungry now playing with the children always
makes him so hungry his stomach’s growling in anticipation he sees a mc donalds sign
decides to get his new friend a special treat then she’ll love him she won’t be like the
others not afraid won’t hate him he looks at the clock 7:10pm almost there now he’ll go
through the drivethru and get some food no one will ever know she won’t wake up until
they reach his secret place and then they’ll eat before they play and she’ll love him like
none of the others ever have…oh jesus mulder wake me up please please wake me up i
can’t bear this he’s a sick evil bastard oh god the things he wants to do to that poor little
girl we can’t let it happen mulder he’s thinking about her now imagining getting excited
getting turned on oh god what kind of a monster is this he’s getting an erec…

******

Scully watched Mulder’s face as he read, gauging his progress by his facial expressions.
First there was surprise as he realized at last what it was that had upset her so badly. When
he reached the reference to Emily his eyes filled with sadness and he threw a concerned
glance her way. She gave him a tiny smile.
    “I’m ok, Mulder.” She had felt a momentary twinge of pain upon seeing Emily’s name,
but had determinedly pushed it aside in order to focus on the matters at hand. Falling apart
over her own lost little girl now wasn’t going to help anyone.
    He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment until he was convinced that she wasn’t just
placating him before returning to the laptop.
    She watched him go into ‘Special Agent’ mode as he read the description of the van, his
brow furrowed into a look of concentration that told her he was dedicating the license plate
number to that photographic memory of his, as surely as if he’d picked up a pen and paper
and written it down.
    A gamut of emotions crossed his face as he went on. The first of which, sympathy with the
little girl’s mother, was completely understandable in Scully’s mind. Mulder understood better
than most the fear and helplessness brought on by having a loved one unexpectedly taken away,
having lived with the pain of not knowing what had become of his sister for more than half of his
life.
    Next came disgust as it became apparent just what fate this man intended for little Katie,
the same terrible fate that ostensibly had befallen others before her at the hands of this monster.
When he hurriedly checked his watch, Scully knew he’d almost reached the end of the
narrative, just as she knew which emotion he would display next. By the time he finished
reading, his face had taken on the same grayish cast that hers had earlier.
    “Jesus Scully. I’m sorry…I had no idea!” He looked absolutely sick with guilt, just as
she’d known he would. When it came to shouldering responsibility and accepting blame,
Mulder was the king, and she’d known as soon as she’d read her entreaty to be woken up
that he would castigate himself for not waking her sooner. She rushed to reassure him.
    “Mulder, it’s ok, I don’t remember any of it, I swear. It’s not your fault.” He looked at her
sadly, wanting to believe her assertions, but at the same time not quite ready to give up his
self-reproach.
    “All I had to do was put out a hand and stop you, Scully, and you wouldn’t have had to go
through all that!”
    Ok, enough was enough. His concern for her mental well-being was sweet, but Scully
couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time. So, while Scully wasn’t even
sure she trusted the things she’d typed – hell, she didn’t even really want to accept the fact
that she’d typed them – she decided to play the one card that would break her partner out
of his self-inflicted guilt trip the quickest. His belief.
    “Look Mulder, just because I had some weird dream that somehow manifested itself into
the Word document from hell…” she began, only to be interrupted by him. “Scully, after
what happened last night, how can you possibly say that? It’s more than just a dream, and
you know it. It’s happening again, only this time, we have proof!”
    “Do you honestly believe that Mulder? That this is some kind of – of a premonition, or
something?” She worked hard to inject just the right amount of skepticism and doubt into
her tone. She only wanted to convince him that for once something wasn’t his fault, not
piss him off.
    “Yes, I do. Everything you said to me on the phone last night came true, Scully. Every
single word.” He checked his watch. “I won’t be at all surprised in three or four minutes
when a windowless white van with license plate number XTM467 pulls into the drive-thru.”
    “Do you also believe that there will be a little girl, stolen from her home, unconscious in
the back of this van?”
    He nodded slowly, a look of pain clouding his eyes for a moment, and she couldn’t help
wondering once again if he was thinking of Samantha. She reached out and covered his
hand with her own where it rested on his thigh.
    “Wouldn’t it be worth it then, Mulder? Wouldn’t it be worth the endurance of a bad
dream, a nightmare not even remembered upon waking, if it meant you could spare an
innocent child from having to experience those very same, very real horrors? It is to me.
If you had woken me any sooner Mulder, we might not be here right now.”
    He couldn’t help a wry smile as he realized how his partner had just smoothly manipulated
him out of his guilt.
    “Ok, ok, point taken. Jeez, Scully, am I always so predictable, or did you just have
another psychic moment?”
    He had to laugh at the discomfited expression his mention of her “newfound talent” produced.
Sometimes Scully could be pretty predictable herself.
    She smirked at his deliberate dig. “Ha ha, Mulder, very fun…” She broke off abruptly and
stared at him, wide-eyed. “He’s almost here,” she whispered. “God Mulder, how can I know
that? Am I going crazy?”
    Her blue eyes were perplexed as she looked at him, and he returned her earlier gesture,
reaching out to take one of her hands in his own.
    “Of course you’re not crazy,” he told her gently. He fiddled absently with her bracelet as he
spoke. “We’re going to figure this out, Scully. But right now, I think we need to determine a
course of action. Like you said, he’ll be here soon.”
    She looked as if she wanted to argue with him. He knew her well enough to know the doubts
that plagued her. Despite the fact that she had typed the words herself, she questioned their validity.
    To his partner’s rational, scientific way of thinking, it was easier for her to distrust her own
sanity rather than accept that she had experienced a premonition. Scully was the only person he
knew who could sit there with the truth in her lap, both literally as well as figuratively, and still not
see it for what it was.
    He could see in her eyes that she doubted the existence of the van, it’s imminent arrival at this
particular location, and the existence of its supposed passenger. At the same time, however,
Mulder knew she would give no voice to these doubts. She could spend the next two days asking
herself “what if?” and never come up with a scientific explanation that would overshadow the
most important question. What if it was true? Scully might not always be as open to extreme
possibilities as he would like, but she would never let her skepticism endanger the life of an
innocent child. So as long as there was a remote chance that a little girl was in danger, Scully
would do whatever was necessary to protect her.
    She sighed mightily and broke eye contact at last, looking around the parking lot. “So, what’s
the best way to do this, Mulder?”
    He surveyed the drive-thru and found it to be a typical McDonalds’ design. From the point of
entry all the way to the pick up window, a high curb, most likely placed there to deter people from
leaving the line when they got frustrated with the wait, bordered the lane. The portion of the lane in
between the payment and pick-up windows was roofed to protect both customers and cashiers from
the worst of the elements, the overhang being supported by three brick columns on the right side of
the lane, one at either end of the canopy, the third in the middle. Mulder noted that there was not
sufficient space between each column to drive a car through. Once a vehicle was under the roofed
section, the only way out was forwards or backwards, and from the parking spot Scully had directed
him to, they were in a perfect position to quickly block the drive-thru exit. It was simply a matter of
pulling forward fifteen feet or so.
    “I think you already know the answer to that, Scully. Isn’t that why you insisted on this particular
parking space?”
    “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but looking at it now, I’m not so sure. If there’s no
one directly behind him in line, he could still back out. Assuming, that is, that he even exists.”
    “I thought of that as well, but frankly I don’t see any better options. I think that if we time it just
right, he should be distracted enough with picking up his order that he won’t know what hit him.
I just wish your little manifesto had mentioned whether or not this guy was carrying any weapons.”
    “He’s not.” The words tumbled out automatically, before she’d really even had a chance to
process the question, but once they were out, she knew it was a correct assessment.
    “He’s very sure of himself, almost cocky. He used the chloroform to get her out of the yard
quietly, but doesn’t feel he needs any weapons. He’s completely convinced that there is no way
anyone would ever catch on to what he’s done, so the only person he’s going to have to contend
with is a four-year-old child.” She had been looking at him as she made this speech, but at its
conclusion dropped her eyes to her lap, embarrassed.
    “That makes sense. Especially if he’s gotten away with this in the past.”
    He knew she was uncomfortable with her intimate knowledge of the kidnapper, given the
method by which she’d come to have this information. He decided to focus on the facts for
now, and ignore the way in which they’d been obtained.
    “I think we can do this, Scully. As far as he knows, that little girl hasn’t even been declared
missing yet, so he’s not expecting any trouble. We’ve got the advantage here; we know he’s
coming.” He picked up his cell phone and continued. “And in a minute, so will the Queen Anne
County PD. A little back-up never hurts.”
    She raised her eyes to his. “There’s no time for that Mulder. He’s here.”
    They both turned to watch a white van enter the restaurant’s parking lot and head for the
drive thru, its license plate obscured by distance. Both agents took silent notice of the fact
that the cargo portion of the van had no windows.
    In unison, weapons were unholstered and checked, seatbelts unfastened to enable quick
movement from the car. Outwardly, their motions were practiced, precise, each in tandem
with the other, as if the partners were not separate units, but rather two parts of the same
whole. Inwardly, however, their thoughts as they each pondered the arrival of the van
betrayed their individuality. While one, the believer, was filled with a sense of wonder to
find that the vehicle was real, and that it was here, exactly where it had been foretold, the
skeptic viewed this same event with doubt and fear. Not a fear of the kidnapper, or even
of the possibility of being wrong, but rather the exact opposite: the fear that her prediction
had been right.
    They waited with baited breath for the van to reappear in their line of sight. Either there
were a few cars ahead of it, or the cashier was extremely slow, because the wait seemed to
span an eternity.
    Three cars later, their quarry rounded the corner and headed for the payment window. It
was close enough now for the license plate to be read, and although neither had really doubted
that this was the vehicle for which they’d been waiting, a collective gasp filled the car as they
were confronted at last with the truth. XTM467.
    Hazel eyes met blue as both mentally steeled themselves for the upcoming battle that they
now knew was inevitable.
    “You ready?” asked Mulder, slipping the car into drive.
    She nodded somberly, her left hand on the door handle, the gun in her right.
    “Then let’s go introduce this guy to the newest addition to the menu. The UN-happy meal.”
 

    In the end, capturing the driver of the van proved to be ridiculously easy. He was so
engrossed in berating the poor teenager who’d mistakenly placed a cheeseburger instead
of a hamburger in his bag that he never noticed the two FBI agents until their car had closed
off the end of the drive-thru lane and Scully’s gun was inches from his face. Mulder’s voice
brought his attention to the front of the van, where he found another weapon aimed at him
through the windshield.
    “FBI! Turn off your vehicle and put your hands where we can see them!”
    After the briefest of pauses the man complied, shutting down the engine and raising his
hands in the air. All wide-eyed innocence, he grinned good-naturedly at Scully. “Wow! Real,
honest-to-goodness FBI agents? What can I do for you, officers? Or should I say ‘agents’?”
    All business, Scully ignored his friendly overtures. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. I
am going to open your door. When I tell you, I want you to open it the rest of the way with
your foot, step out of the car, and face me. You will move slowly, and keep your hands up
at all times. Do you understand?”
    His smile was still in place, but no longer quite reached his eyes. He nodded at her before
his gaze flicked to Mulder, who had moved around even with the driver’s side front fender so
that he now had a clear shot through the open window. “What’s going on here? Have I done
something wrong?”
    “That’s what we’re here to find out, sir. Now please, just do as Agent Scully says, and
we’ll discuss the problem momentarily.”
     Mulder’s speech wasn’t so much meant to soothe the man’s fears, as it was to distract him
while Scully opened the door. Once she had it opened slightly, Scully moved several steps
toward the rear of the van, allowing the man enough room to exit the vehicle.
    “Now remember,” she said, “Keep your hands up, and don’t make any sudden movements.
I want you to use your left foot, and push the door all the way open. Good. Now, get out of
the van, and take two steps towards me. Right there. Stop.”
    Once the suspect was out of the way, Mulder moved up and closed the door. He then pulled
out the handcuffs that he’d wished he’d had the foresight to bring along with him the previous
night, and proceeded to secure their prisoner.
    At the first touch of cold steel against his right wrist the cheerful mask slipped a notch, and
by the time both wrists were enclosed, he’d given up all pretense of his amiable façade. He
glared at Scully, who stood before him, covering him with her weapon while her partner finished
his task. Outwardly, she appeared to be waiting patiently, her face betraying no emotion.
Inwardly, however, it was taking every bit of concentration she had to keep from shooting
the bastard where he stood.
    From the moment he’d left the van to stand before her, her mind had begun to fill with
images of children, their angelic faces distorted by the pain and fear being inflicted on them
by this monster who stood before her now. They flickered through her brain, one after
another, each lasting no longer than the flashbulb on a camera, and yet, as the light from a
camera lingers in one’s vision long after the flash is over, Scully felt that each of these mental
pictures were being indelibly etched into her memory.
    She had no recollection of ever seeing any of these children before, but was equally
certain that she would remember each and every face for the rest of her life.  The obscene
internal slide-show continued, each image more vivid and horrific than the last, until finally
Scully could stand it no longer. She stepped forward and raised her weapon, aiming at a
spot directly between his eyes.
    “Are you Kenneth Gallant?” She practically spat the question at him, disgust and loathing
clearly evident in her voice.
    At Gallant’s affirmative nod, Mulder caught the nearly imperceptible widening of her
eyes that told him Scully was just as surprised to have given voice to the man’s identity
as he had been to hear it.
    The partners’ eyes met and locked, and in Scully’s, Mulder saw a grudging acceptance.
She may not yet understand the how and why of it, but he knew in that moment that she no
longer doubted what this man was. He gave her a tiny nod of encouragement, and her eyes
snapped back to the other man’s face.
    “Mr. Gallant, you are under arrest. Mulder, you read him his rights and I’m going to check
the back of the van.” She turned and took two steps towards the rear of the vehicle before
his voice stopped her in her tracks.
    “Under arrest? For what? You can’t just arrest me for no reason. What did I do?”
    Scully whirled around to face him, both eyebrows raised impossibly high in an
incredulous expression.
    “What did you do?” The question came out a mere whisper, her voice as soft as a
spring breeze, but Mulder could see the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. ** Look
out folks, here comes Hurricane Scully, ** thought Mulder. He was profoundly grateful
that for once, the full force of her Irish temper wasn’t focused on him. His partner was
normally quiet and reserved with the patience of a saint, but once pushed to her limits,
her ire was quite a formidable thing indeed.
    Mulder found himself thankful that she had already reholstered her weapon, because
judging by the look of pure hatred on her face, she might have been tempted to use it
had the gun still been at hand. As it was, he thought that he might yet have to intervene
if she decided that bare hands would do just as nicely.
    Her cheeks flushed with rage, she advanced on the man slowly. Despite the fact that
she was seven or eight inches shorter than he, and that he probably outweighed her by
eighty pounds, he found himself instinctively backing away from the hostility he saw in her
eyes. Finally his back came up against the side of the van, stopping his retreat. She continued
until their faces were inches apart, and when she spoke, her voice was cold and low.
    “Michael Hart, 12/4/97. Amy Phillips, 3/17/98. Corey Davidson 7/29/98. Madeline
Williams 11/7/98. Tyler Jenkins, 2/28/99. I’ll tell you what you did, you sick son of a bitch.
You stole them from their homes, acted out your twisted fantasies on them, forced your
disgusting perversions on them, and when you were finished, you killed them. You are under
arrest for the murder of five innocent children, you sorry excuse for a human being, as well
as for kidnapping and plotting to murder Katie Harris today.”
    Her voice had gradually risen to a shout midway through her tirade, but dropped back
down to a whisper once again.
    “You’ll get the death penalty for this, and I’ll be right there, in the front row. I can see it
as surely as if it were happening right now. No stay-of-executions for you. Mark it on your
calendar – December 12th of next year – that’s the big day. Sure hope it was worth it.”
    Had Mulder any doubts as to the accuracy of the names and dates his partner recited,
he needed only to look at Gallant’s face in order for them to be dismissed. Surprise was
evident there, not the astonishment of one being wrongfully accused of a crime, but rather
the amazement of one that assumed himself to be untraceable being found out. This had
gone on for so long now, just over a year and a half by Scully’s accounting, that Gallant
had begun to think that his crimes would never catch up with him. To be confronted with
all six of them at one time was bound to be traumatic. Of course, the shock mixed into his
expression could also have something to do with the fact that Scully had just predicted the
date of his death.
    He decided it was time to end the staring match between his partner and their captive
before she really did attack him. He stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her
shoulder, feeling her startle slightly. He leaned toward her until his mouth was near her
left ear, and spoke quietly.
    “Scully, I’ve got him. Why don’t you go check on the little girl?”
    Their eyes met and his asked a silent question.
    ** Are you ok? **
    She gave a slight nod, whether in response to his verbal or non-verbal inquiry, he wasn’t
sure. That is, until she moved once again towards the rear of the van, and her softly spoken,
“I’m ok, Mulder,” reached his ears. He turned back to Gallant, thinking to himself, ** And they
call me Spooky? **

    For a moment, Scully could do nothing but stare into the back of the van. She didn’t
know why she was so surprised, really, when this was exactly what she had expected to
find. She supposed it had something to do with the strangeness of the events leading up
to this point, and the fact that this represented their culmination. No matter what else had
happened up until now, the final proof as to whether this was all one big coincidence or
there was some other force at work hinged upon what she found in this van. And now
that this evidence, conclusive evidence, was staring her in the face, Scully was having a
hard time figuring out exactly what it meant.
    She stood there, trying to somehow get her mind to wrap around this newest information
in a way that made some sort of sense until a sound interrupted her contemplation. When
the little girl before her sighed softly in her chloroform-induced sleep and began to show
signs of awakening, Scully gave herself a mental shake and climbed into the van to check
on her small patient.
 

After Scully had found little Katie Harris in the back of Kenneth Gallant’s van, the police
had been summoned, as well as Katie’s parents. Both were grateful that the pair had caught
the perpetrator so quickly, and all seemed to accept the story they gave as to how they had
managed to do so.
    Scully had concocted quite an interesting little tale, stating that the partners had stopped
at the restaurant to eat on the way home from investigating a case in Jonesboro, and on the
way back to their car had heard little Katie crying in the back of the van as it sat in the
drive-thru line. Since she and her partner had recently begun looking into a series of missing
children on Maryland’s Eastern Shore dating back to late 1997, they decided to check out
the source of the crying, rescuing little Katie from the pedophile before she came to any real
harm.
    Scully then gave the police the names and “missing since” dates of the other five children
Gallant had taken, under the guise of their ongoing “investigation”. She suggested that they
check property records to see if Gallant owned any remote holdings nearby. Something
that would be isolated enough to suit his evil purposes.
    Scully already knew what a thorough investigation would find, but if she were to tell the
Queen Anne County police that, she would be forced to explain how she came by that
knowledge, and that simply wasn’t something she was prepared to do. So, the best Scully
could do for now was to give them a gentle push in the right direction and trust that the police
would gather enough evidence against Gallant to keep him out of commission.
    Mulder remained fairly quiet throughout the whole process, not contributing much to the
story, but to his credit, he didn’t disagree with Scully’s version of it either. Finally at around
8:30pm, the police were satisfied that they had all the relevant information, and the duo was
allowed to leave.
    Mulder waited until they reentered the highway before speaking.
    “Gee Scully, I never knew you could be such a convincing liar.” This was said with a trace
of sarcasm, leading Scully to believe that Mulder was only half-kidding. She had an idea about
what was bothering him. They hadn’t really had time to discuss what they were going to say to
the police, and when the time had come, he had left the decision to her. She had known that he
wouldn’t care much for her choice, not so much because she had lied, but because of what she
had omitted.
    Mulder would be the last person to berate her for “participating in a campaign of
misinformation”, having done it himself on more than one occasion when he felt the situation
warranted such actions. Scully suspected that Mulder’s upset was due more to the fact that
she had purposely left out any and all references to the paranormal happenings that had led
them to that particular place at that particular time.
    He would view that as a denial on her part of everything that they had witnessed and would
no doubt be disappointed and even slightly hurt that she could still disavow what to him was so
glaringly obvious. She suddenly found that she wanted very much for him to understand where
she was coming from.
    “Look Mulder, I know that you’re disappointed with the story I gave the police.”
    When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand. “No, wait, just let me say this, ok?”
    He closed his mouth and nodded for her to continue.
    “Ok. I know that you would have preferred that we tell it like it really happened, beginning
with me typing in my sleep and ending with me blurting out the names of five dead children that
I was hearing about for the first time even as I was speaking them. I know you feel that by
denying what really happened I’m going against everything that we’ve worked to prove with
the X-files, and that the only way the straight-laced Dr. Scully can allow herself to sign off on
the official report is by first trying to legitimize it with normalcy. Now, that may have held true
to some degree way back when we worked on the Boggs case, but that’s not why I did it today.
I gave that story to the police for one reason, and one reason only, Mulder. Because I do believe.”
    The look he gave her was almost comical, a mixture of astonishment at her admission, and
confusion over what she actually meant by it. She gave him a small smile.
    “Yes, you heard me right. Mulder, when I opened up the back of that van, there was absolutely
no doubt in my mind that I would find that little girl there. And do you know why? Because I
could “see” her. In my head. If you had asked me before I’d opened that door, I could’ve told
you exactly what she looked like and described her clothing to you. As to how I happened to
have that knowledge, or why, I can’t even begin to explain, though I’m quite sure you have
several theories on the subject,” when he prepared to expound upon the aforementioned theories,
she continued quickly, “which I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to discuss yet. The point is, I don’t
know how it could be possible, but I just knew. As soon as I laid eyes on Kenneth Gallant, I knew
what he was, what he had done to those other children, and what he was planning to do to Katie
Harris. As surely as I know my own name, I just knew. And that was why I was equally certain
that I could not tell the police the true story. That man is a monster, Mulder. The things he did to
those children, the way he made them suffer before they…”
    Her voice trailed off and she blinked back tears as the memories of her earlier visions assaulted
her. “There was no way I could risk giving a statement to the police that would cause them to
regard this case with anything less than the utmost sincerity. If I told them how we really came to
stop that man, that we had no true probable cause, that we had in fact stopped him because of
some kind of a premonition that I’d had in my sleep, that bastard would be back out on the streets
by morning, searching out his next victim. He cannot ever be allowed to hurt another child, Mulder.
I simply couldn’t allow that to happen. I’m sorry if you don’t see it that way, but I just…couldn’t.”
    The tears threatened again, and she turned her face towards the window so he wouldn’t see. He
hadn’t said a word throughout her entire speech, and she was curious to know his reaction, but
didn’t trust herself to turn around until she got her emotions back under control. She didn’t think
he would understand, didn’t think he really could unless he’d seen the gruesome atrocities that
had been inflicted on those children himself, so she was surprised to feel him cover her hand
where it lay between them on the seat with his own.
    “You did the right thing, Scully.”
    She turned quickly to look at him, to see what the “but” was, but there was only approval in his
eyes and a warm smile on his face. He squeezed her hand briefly before releasing it to once again
grasp the steering wheel.
    “How about a little music, Scully? You can even pick the station.”
    “Just as long as you don’t expect me to sing, Mulder,” she quipped, grateful that he was willing
to forego the inevitable discussion of the past day’s events for the present time.
    To show her appreciation, she chose a light rock station that they both liked rather than the
classical music station that she loved and he hated. They spent the rest of the hour-long drive
back to DC simply enjoying the music, an unspoken agreement between them that tomorrow
would be soon enough to try and solve this newest mystery.

End Chapter Three

On to Chapter Four!

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