Author: Vickie Moseley
Category: Holiday
Rating: PG
Summary: Mulder discovers that at Christmas, the 
most unusual heroes
can be found in the most unusual places.
Spoilers: VS12: Displacement
Disclaimer: I'm not profiting off this work of 
fiction, so back of
lawyer dudes! No copyright infringement intended.
Archive: VS 13 exclusive for two weeks from 
posting. After that, yes.
Author's Notes:  This story is part of the Virtual 
Season Universe where Bill Scully Jr. has been 
killed and Charlie Scully is working for the 
consortium.

comments to:  vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Mulder eyed his watch for the fifth time in the last 
half hour. 

"Damn, damn, triple damn."
 
His sotto voce mutter was just barely discernable 
over the din of the packed conference room at the 
Chicago FBI Regional office. 
He felt a hand clasp him on the shoulder. 

"Sorry, Mulder.  I know I promised -- "

Mulder shook his head, and tried for a wan but 
honestly contrite smile.  "Not your fault, Steve.  I 
want this bastard as much as the next guy."

"Yeah, but it's a helluva way to spend Christmas," 
The AIC, Steve Michelson, said with a sad shrug.  
"If it's any consolation, Simons just called in an 
order to the Walnut Room at the Alegro.  They're 
sending Christmas Dinner, all the trimmings.  We'll 
just have to eat it off paper plates and with plastic 
forks."

"I've done worse," Mulder said with a chuckle.  "I 
do need to make a phone call."

"I understand," Michelson said.  "Give my best to 
the missus," he added with a wink.

Mulder tilted his head in reprimand but his 
colleague was not to be dissuaded. 

"I don't care what you call it in DC, Mulder.  Out 
here in the hinterlands, what you are is called 
'married'," he laughed and headed over to one of the 
other groups of agents, huddled around a map of the 
southeast side of the city of Chicago.

Mulder got up from the table and headed toward the 
hallway.  The task force was all crammed in one 
little conference room; the rest of the building was 
empty.  He glanced at his watch again and realized 
he would have been high in the sky, just passing 
over Ohio, had he been able to catch his flight.  
Sighing heavily, he spoke into his phone.  
"Maggie's Home," he said succinctly and waited as 
the recorded voice repeated his request and then 
rang through the number.

"Scully residence, Matthew speaking," a young 
voice said breathlessly on the line.

"Matty, it's Mulder," the agent said.  He couldn't 
keep the smile off his face at the sound of a familiar 
voice.  "You answered the phone like a pro.  We're 
going to have to get you a summer job at the office 
on our switchboard."

"Ah, Uncle Mulder, you know I want to go to camp 
this summer," came the reply.  "You wanna talk to 
Auntie Dana?"

"Yes, please, if she's not elbow deep in turkey."

"Nah, Grandma put the turkey in a long time ago.  
Guess what?  Santa brought me a fielders' mitt!  
Auntie Dana said you could show me how to break 
it in."

"Wow, that's great, buddy!  Sure, I've even got 
some glove oil we can use on it.  You'll be all set 
before tee ball season starts again."

"Do you need us to pick you up at the airport?" 
Matty asked innocently. 

"No, uh, not yet.  Just get Auntie Dana, if you don't 
mind."  He tapped his foot while waiting for his 
partner to come to the phone.

"Hey, we've got a 22 pound turkey here with your 
name on it and at three presents addressed to both of 
us that I don't dare open without you," Scully said 
brightly.  He smiled, just hearing her voice made 
him feel a little better. 

Then reality crashed back down on him.  "Well, 
save me a big slice of turkey and keep the presents 
under the tree a little while longer," he said sadly.

"Ah, Mulder.  I thought they cut you loose.  You 
gave them the profile."

"Yeah, I know.  But the rat bastard slipped the net.  
I promised I'd stick around, see if I can give them a 
clue where he might run to ground.  I'm really sorry, 
Scully.  I know how much Christmas means to you 
-- especially now, with Tara and the kids . . . "

"Hey, it's all right.  I mean, sure, I'm disappointed, 
but it's part and parcel of the job.  I just wish I was 
out there with you."

"You wish you were stranded in Chicago, working a 
serial killer case on Christmas rather than being 
with your family, that 7 foot killer blue spruce in 
Maggie's living room and a 22 pound roast turkey?" 
he asked mockingly.  "Wow, do you have strange 
fantasies."

"I said I wish I was out there with _you_," she 
reminded him.  "So, are you at least going to get 
something to eat?"

"Yeah.  Not shabby, either.  The restaurant near the 
office is sending over dinner with all the trimmings.  
It'll be cold and on paper plates, but that's why they 
made microwaves, isn't it?  I'll be fine."

"Any idea at all when you might make it home?"

"As soon as we have this guy in custody, I'm on the 
next flight.  I'll walk home if I have to."

"Well, then we'll save you plenty of leftovers."

"I want some of that turkey, plenty of that.  Oh, and 
your mom's green bean casserole with the little red 
things in it."

"Pimentos, Mulder.  The red things are pimentos.  
I'll make up a couple of plates and put them in the 
freezer before we even sit down to eat."  They were 
both silent for a while, content to just listen to each 
other breathe. 

Mulder heard someone call his name out the 
conference room door.  "Look, I gotta run.  Tell 
everyone how sorry I am about not being there."

"You just stay safe, OK?  Call me later, as soon as 
you can."

"You know I will.  I love you, Scully."

"And I love you.  Be careful."

Mulder disconnected the call and put the phone 
back in his pocket.  He could just see Maggie's 
house now, the smell of the turkey and stuffing 
drifting through the rooms.  Matty would be glued 
to the television, Maggie having broken down and 
finally purchased a PlayStation 2 to keep him 
occupied at her house, while little Claire amused 
herself with the toy kitchen Maggie got her for 
Christmas. 

In the kitchen, all three Scully women would be 
preparing a feast and celebrating the holiday -- with 
all their men absent.  With a heavy heart he made 
his way back to the conference room.

The activity level among the task force had 
increased exponentially.  AIC Michelson met 
Mulder's questioning look and motioned the agent 
over to the white board.

"We just got in some new information.  You were 
right, there was another male influence in Bracket's 
life.  His father."

"His father died three years ago and led a quiet life 
as a plumber.  That wasn't the catalyst here," 
Mulder objected.

"No, it wasn't.  But we found out that wasn't his real 
father.  Thomas Bracket was James Bracket's step 
father.  He adopted James when he married the kid's 
mother.  Our guy's real father's name was Carson, 
Terrance Carson, and he was a convicted killer. 

He was executed 20 years ago this August at 
Stateville Prison in Joliet."

"Wasn't Stateville decommissioned a few years 
back?" Mulder asked, his mind racing.

 "Yeah.  They've been shooting that new crime 
series 'Prison Break' there," one of the other agents 
piped up.

"He'll be there."  Mulder didn't even bother to pose 
it as a question, it was a statement of fact.

"There's another problem, Mulder," Michelson said, 
refusing to meet his friend's eyes.  "You were right 
about what he'd do when he ran.  He's got another 
kid.  Grabbed a 9 year old in Cicero about 6 hours 
ago."

"How fast can we get to Joliet?" Mulder asked, 
grabbing his overcoat.

"We have a SWAT team on its way.  We're taking a 
chopper.   C'mon."

In Mulder's mind it took almost as long to get to the 
chopper as to fly south to the suburb of Joliet, 
where the abandoned prison was located.  Once on 
the ground, Kevlar was handed out and he quickly 
donned the protective vest.  The SWAT team was in 
position, but Bracket was holed up in one of the 
cellblocks, and he'd had enough time to rig the 
place to explode.  According to the
State Troopers already on the scene, the serial killer 
was intent on taking more than a few people with 
him when he died.

The wind that hit him as Mulder got out of the 
chopper was bitter cold and stinging with ice.  The 
dark grey clouds overhead promised snow, and 
plenty of it, to add to the dark grey slush already on 
the ground.  "Just what we need, more white to 
accent all the blood," Mulder muttered as he ducked 
his head and head toward the compound.

The massive gates were open.  The prison looked 
like a graveyard.  Sharpshooters were stationed at 
each of the towers and on all roofs of the buildings.  
He could see them in their black helmets, weapons 
pointed at the yard and at the main cellblock.  Not 
that it would do much good when the madman 
inside decided to blow the place to kingdom come.

"So tell me again why I'm here?" he muttered to 
himself as he skirted the open space of the yard and 
headed toward the cellblock.

"You say something, Mulder," Steve called to him, 
the wind snatching at his words.

"Nah, just thinking out loud," Mulder yelled back.  
"Has anyone gotten through to Bracket to talk to 
him?"

"The phones are still working, because of the TV 
show," another agent informed him.  "The state 
troopers called him.  He says he wants a car and 
some money or he kills the kid and blows the joint 
up."

"Great, serial killer turned hostage taker," Mulder 
quipped. 

"Where's the location?  Can we see him, see if the 
kid's still alive?"

"Setting it up as we speak.  There used to be video 
but the state moved it to the new prison.  The 
cameras, wires, everything.  But we're rigging 
something up.  Should have video and audio in 
about 20 minutes."

Mulder heaved another sigh.  Time.  Time they 
didn't have.  This guy had gutted ten other boys 
ages 8 to 14.  He didn't keep them alive, he didn't 
torture them before the killing blow.  He just gutted 
them.  The Medical Examiner for Cook County had 
said he seen the same technique used on rainbow 
trout or Coho salmon. 

Someone in the press had nicknamed the bastard 
'the Fisher King' after the old Robin Williams 
movie.  The bastard seemed to like the notoriety so 
it didn't slow him down.  He was a man of action. 
So why hadn't he already blown the cellblock?

More and more agents and officers were packing 
into the yard.  There had to be thirty or more people 
there now.  Mulder looked over to the gate and saw 
the telltale van with a dish on top -- the news crews 
had arrived.  Direct feed, it would all be on CNN in 
less time than it took to blink.

"He's going out with a bang!" Mulder shouted to 
Steve, who was several feet away, talking on a cell 
phone. 

"What?" Michelson asked, shaking his head.

"All these people, he planned this, he's been here 
before today.  He's going to blow it up all right.  
Right on the news.  Film at 6 pm, just in time for 
Christmas Dinner."

"Oh shit," Michelson hissed. 

"We have to get these people out of here!" Mulder 
shouted toward the assembled crowd.

"We can't," Michelson said, grabbing Mulder's arm.  
"If we leave, he'll slip out.  We can't let him walk 
the streets -- he's a monster!"
 
Mulder chewed on his lip.  "Then someone will just 
have to make sure he doesn't get away this time."  
He looked at the cellblock, a huge stone building 
with walls as thick as they were high.  "Do we have 
interior blueprints?"

Michelson nodded.  "Right over here.  There're 
service halls down this way, they lead right to the 
area Bracket has the kid.  From what the SWAT 
team can figure, he's got charges set here and here 
on the doors leading into and out of the cellblock.  
He could set them sequentially, blowing them as he 
leaves.  This set of charges here," he said pointing 
to an exterior wall, "would blow this wall out and 
into the yard.  It would be pretty bloody out there."

Mulder stared at the diagram for several seconds.  
"He'd hear anyone in that hallway," he said, 
pointing to the service way.  "The sound would 
echo."

"Maybe we could distract him," Michelson 
answered with a shrug.

Mulder gave that suggestion and inelegant snort.  
"With the Chicago Symphony Orchestra playing 
We Wish You a Merry Christmas?"  He shook his 
head.  "I need one guy, a marksman, to go with me.  
I don't want to risk this bastard getting away."

"Mulder, you don't need to do this.  I can send in 
two SWAT members -- "

"Steve, I know what he's thinking right now.  He 
knows he's trapped.  Chances are real good he's 
even figured out what we just figured out and he's a 
step ahead of us.  I don't want to give him another 
chance."  Mulder stopped talking and looked around 
the yard.  Finally he faced his old friend.  "This guy 
has ruined too many families' Christmas.  I will not 
let this bastard get away," he repeated.

Michelson frowned.  "I don't like this," he said.  "I 
want a wire on you, so we'll know if we need to 
move in."

"Just don't use the extra wide tape, it gives me a 
rash," Mulder replied dryly. 

The marksman's name was Nate, a 28-year-old 
former Marine sharpshooter with a crew cut and ice 
blue eyes.  Mulder shook the man's hand and 
donned the helmet Michelson had insisted he wear. 
Fortunately for Mulder's skin condition, the helmet 
had the mike and earpiece already wired in it.

"Can you hear me OK," Mulder whispered as they 
walked down the long hallway toward the cell block 
where Bracket was hunkered down.

"Loud and clear," Michelson answered. 

"Good, wouldn't want to leave you out of the fun 
stuff," Mulder huffed, quieting when he got a glare 
from his buddy Nate.  They were fast approaching 
the hall they'd need to be hiding in when
Bracket decided to make a break for it. 

Nate pointed to a cell closest to the door.  "If we 
stay against the back wall, the shadows should help 
up," he said with a nod.  Mulder nodded in 
agreement and followed the younger man into the 
tiny room.

Outside, Michelson paced a gravel path, directing 
news crew and non-essentials out of the yard area.  
A young agent appeared at his elbow, a ringing cell 
phone in his hand.

"It's Agent Mulder's phone, sir.  It's been going off 
for the last ten minutes," the young woman said 
with a fearful expression.

"I'll answer it," Michelson said, taking the phone.  
He'd barely gotten the object up to his ear when he 
heard the voice on the other line.

"Mulder, CNN is reporting that Bracket's taken a 
child hostage and is hold up in a old state prison 
outside Joilet -- "

"Agent Scully?" Michelson answered, breaking into 
her sentence. 

"This is Steve Michelson."

"Steve, sorry.  Where's Mulder?  May I speak with 
him?" came the voice over the line.

Michelson cringed.  He hated answering other 
people's phones, especially in situations that were 
best laid out face to face.  "Um,
Agent Scully, Dana, isn't it?  Mulder is . . . he's . . ."

"He's doing something incredibly stupid, isn't he?" 
she replied with a tone that spoke of both anger and 
worry.

"Dana, he's got a sharpshooter with him.  They're 
making sure that Bracket doesn't try to blow up the 
cell block and escape the back way."

"He's guarding the back way," she said flatly.  It 
wasn't a question.

"Yeah.  Like I said -- "

"I heard, he has a sharpshooter with him.  Steve, 
what do they call people who bring knives to a 
gunfight?  What if this guy doesn't want to escape?   
What if he just wants to end it all?  And Mulder
is sitting right on top of him and -- do you even 
know how much explosive Bracket has?" she 
accused.

"Look, Agent Scully, I understand that you're upset 
-- "

"Keep this phone with you.  I'm leaving now for the 
airport.  It'll take me a couple of hours to get there -- 
"

"Dana, there's no reason for you to come out right 
now," Michelson was saying just as the earth shook 
and there was a sound of thunder right next to his 
ear.  He was flying through the air for a split second 
and after he landed, cement and glass rained down 
on him for several seconds more.  As he came to his 
senses, he realized the phone was still in his hand, 
but no one was on the other end.

Stateville Prison
Joliet, Illinois
8:43 pm

Fire crews, the Secretary of State bomb squad and 
numerous ambulances were scattered around the 
smoldering rubble that had been Cell Block H.  The 
thick dust mixed with the falling snow, creating 
instant mud on any vehicle in the vicinity.  Through 
all the noise and activity, in one small cell there was 
silence until a groan was uttered.

Mulder tried to move and found himself effectively 
pinned by cement from the ceiling and pipes.  Dust 
choked him and he coughed, immediately regretting 
the action, even more so when he was forced to 
repeat it.  He loudly groaned again.

There was an answering groan just a few feet from 
him.  His sharpshooting buddy, Nate.

"Nate, you there?" Mulder called out as loudly as 
his closed throat would allow.

"Agent Mulder?" came a strangled reply.

 "Yeah.  You OK?  You hurt?" Mulder asked 
anxiously.

"The bed.  I'm under the bed."

"But are you hurt?" Mulder repeated.

"I - I - don't know.  Can't feel my legs."

Mulder swallowed hard.  That wasn't a good sign.  
"Just stay put."

"You OK?" Nate inquired breathlessly.  "Can you 
move?"

Mulder thought for a moment.  Everything hurt, but 
miraculously, nothing was screaming in pain.  That 
meant he might possibly have escape relatively 
unscathed.  His head hurt, he was dizzy, but at least 
he couldn't feel any bones scraping against each 
other.  "I think I'm OK.  But I'm pinned.  I can't get 
this stuff off me."

"Don't try!" Nate rasped loudly.  "You could bring 
more crap down on us."

Mulder ceased his actions immediately.  "They're 
probably looking for us," he said quietly.

"More'n likely they think we're dead," Nate 
corrected.  "And we will be, if this wall next to me 
decides to fall over."

Mulder licked his lips.  "We can't just give up."  He 
knew he couldn't give up; he had too many people 
waiting for him back in DC.  "I won't give up.  Not 
yet."

As if the darkness had been listening, a sound came 
through the chill night air.  A soft cry, that of a 
child.

"Did you hear that?" he hurriedly asked Nate.

"What?  I just hear these walls creakin'."  The 
young man's voice was getting weaker.

"No, it wasn't the walls.  It sounded like a kid.  The 
boy.  Bracket didn't killed him.  The kid survived 
the blast."

"You got hit on th' head.  You're hearin' things."

Mulder shook his head in denial and then listened 
closely.  He heard it again.  This time it sounded 
like a word -- 'help'. 

"We're here!" he shouted.  "We're here and we'll try 
to get to where you are.  Are you hurt?"

"I want my dad!" came the other voice, clear and 
strong.

"We're going to try and get to you . . ."  Mulder 
searched through the dizziness to remember the 
boy's name.  "Jason," he added when it finally came 
to him.

 "Nate, I think if I can get some leverage -- "  There 
was no answer. 

"Nate!  Nate, are you still with me?" Mulder 
shouted as loud as he could, coughing up cement 
dust for his trouble.

"He's out, Mr. Mulder."  The voice came from over 
his shoulder.  He tried to twist around, but the 
debris wouldn't let him move far.

"Who's there?" he asked breathlessly.  Was it 
Bracket?  God, how had they missed him? 

"It's me.  Bill."

Mulder coughed again and tried to puzzle that one 
out.  Bill?  He knew several Bills -- one was locked 
up on a maximum security mental institution, one 
was his father, buried 10 years, one was Scully's 
dad, also buried for more than a decade -- the only 
other Bill . . . "

"Bill Scully," Mulder rasped out.  "Bill, what the 
hell . . .?"

"I have no idea.  But here, when I say to move, slide 
backward as far as you can.  On the count of three:  
one . . . two . . . THREE!"

The weight on his torso was lifted and Mulder 
inched out as quickly as he could.  He was free.  But 
before he had time to look around and find his 
rescuer, more debris crashed to the ground. 

Dust filled the air and he covered his mouth and 
nose, his eyes clenched shut.  When he felt it was 
safe, he opened them again. 

A figure, he couldn't see it clearly, stood in the hall 
just outside the cell door.  "You better hurry.  He 
needs you."  Before Mulder could respond, the 
figure vanished.

Mulder saw an arm flailed out under the metal beds, 
which were lying on top of each other.  "Nate?"  He 
carefully picked his way over and found the young 
SWAT member was still alive, but unconscious.  
Looking around, he used a solid steel bar to 
leverage the beds off the injured policeman.  "I'll be 
right back.  I have to get Jason." 

Cautiously, Mulder picked his way across the 
blocks of cement and ruin cell bars to get to the hall.  
He could just make out the figure of Bill Scully as it 
moved through an opening at the end. 

The figured stopped, looking back.  "Would you 
hurry, Mr. Mulder?" Bill snapped.

"Look, would you at least drop the Mister," Mulder 
snapped back. 

"And I'm hurrying as fast as I can!"

The two arrived in another part of the cell block.  
There, on the floor, huddled in a corner, was Jason.  
He was covered in dust, and had a few scratches on 
his face, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"Jason, I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI.  I'm here to 
help you get out," Mulder said soothingly to the 
young boy.  As he got closer, he could see the tears 
streaks through the dust on the boy's face.

"Who's he?" Jason asked, pointing directly as Bill.

"Y-you can see him?" Mulder asked, a chill running 
down his spine. 

"He helped me.  He helped me get away from that 
jerk.  He helped me hide."

"C'mon, we don't have much time and someone still 
has to come back for your friend . . . Mulder," Bill 
pushed.

"Can you walk, Jason?" Mulder asked.  The boy 
nodded and held out his hand so that Mulder could 
pull him up. 

"How do we get out?" Jason asked. 

Mulder looked up and down the hallway.  He could 
see patches of brightness, filtering into the gloom 
from the strong searchlights in the yard.  "I'm not 
sure," he said evenly.  He looked around for Bill but 
couldn't find him.

"Over here, this way," he heard Bill's voice from a 
few yards away. 

"There's a way out.  Over here!"

They followed the voice.  When it looked like they 
wouldn't be able to go any farther, Bill would lead 
them in another direction.  Finally, after painstaking 
minutes that seemed like hours, picking their way 
around the rubble, Mulder saw in the distance the 
way out.

The snow was falling in big fluffy flakes.  It made it 
hard to see anything, even with the bright security 
lights.  Scully stood near the command truck, 
huddled in her overcoat, feeling helpless.

"They found them!" came a shout from one of the 
radio operators. 

"Wait, they found one of them." 

Scully pushed her way into the back of the van, 
desperately wanting to tear the headphones away 
from the operator.  "Officer Mulligan -- they found 
Nate Mulligan," the young man reported to his 
commander.

"Agent Mulder was with him.  Where is he?" Scully 
demanded frantically.

The operator looked up at the anxious woman next 
to him.  "He must not have been in the same area, 
Ma'am.  I'm sorry."

Scully sank back against the door of the truck and 
almost let the fear overcome her.  Shaking off her 
despair, she jumped out of the van and headed over 
to where Michelson was standing with members of 
the Fire Department.

"The building is unstable.  I really don't want my 
men in there much longer," she overheard the Fire 
Chief saying as she approached.

Scully grabbed the Fire Chief's arm.  "My partner is 
still in there," she hissed.

"Agent Scully, in all likelihood -- "

"They just found Officer Mulligan alive," she 
objected.  "He went in there with Agent Mulder.  
Maybe they got separated.  Maybe the crew just 
didn't see Mulder because of the debris."

"Agent Scully -- Dana -- I'm sorry," Michelson 
interrupted her, pulling her away.  "I'm so sorry."

"No!  No, he's not dead!  I know he's not!  He 
would never leave me!  Now let me go so I can go 
find him!"

At that moment there was a huge rumble followed 
by an ear shattering crash as the remaining walls 
gave up their fight with gravity.

"Would you hurry!" Bill ordered again.

Mulder looked up at the man standing in front of 
him.  It was odd, how the snowflakes seemed to 
float right through Bill Scully. 

Mulder wanted to ask so many questions of the 
vision in front of him, but the situation did not 
allow for discourse.  Jason was having a hard time 
making it over the rocks and cement.  Finally,
Mulder had picked the boy up tried to ignore the 
extra weight, which threatened to slow him down.

"Why are you doing this, Bill?" Mulder asked the 
vision.

"You've been good to them," Bill said shortly.  At 
Mulder curious expression, Bill continued, 
embarrassed.  "Tara and the kids.  You've been 
good to them."

"But why did you come to help Jason?  You don't 
know him?  He's not family."

Bill looked Mulder square in the eye.  "You're 
helping him, aren't you?  He isn't your kid.  Hell, 
Matty and Claire aren't your kids, but you treat 
them like they're family."  The vision looked away. 

"I know we never . . . got along.  I thought you were 
a bad choice for her.  Dana's made some really bad 
choices with men and I thought you were just 
another in a long line." 

Just as they hit the outside wall, Bill looked back.  
"In your case, I was wrong."  As he faded away in 
the snow, Mulder felt the ground shake and ran as 
fast as he could with his precious bundle as the 
building they had been in crumbled to the ground.

11:45 pm

The last of the crews were packing to go.  Scully 
stood in the six-inch deep snow, tears drying in the 
wind.  She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Agent Scully, let's get you someplace warm," 
Agent Michelson said gently.

"I won't leave till we find a body," she said through 
gritted teeth.

"The Chief says it's too icy right now to find 
anything in the dark.  They're going to come back in 
the morning."

"Then I'll stay here for the night," she countered 
angrily.  She stomped off, walking the perimeter of 
the ruined cell block. 

The snow was deeper where the wind had blown it 
into drifts.  It was still falling, not the large fluffy 
puffs that reminded her of cotton balls, but gentle 
flakes that landed on her lashes and mixed with her 
tears.  The back wall of the cell block had blown 
outward and the rumble was taking the appearance 
of a bizarre snow sculpture. 

"Mulder, I know you're still alive.  Where are you?" 
she begged, her words catching on the wind and 
flying away from her.

One of the piles of snow moved.

She thought it was the wind, or maybe the 
snowflakes falling in her eyes were causing them to 
blur. 

The pile moved again.  This time, it broke into two 
distinct forms, a tall one and a much smaller one.  
The tall one rose up, gathered the smaller form to it 
and lurched forward.

"Mulder!"  In seconds she was running, hopping 
over jagged pieces of concrete and stone, sliding on 
the icy patches and then she had him in her arms.  
"Oh my God, Mulder, you're alive!"

"He's cold.  We have to get him someplace warm," 
Mulder rambled and she finally realized the small 
form in his arms was a boy.  "He needs to be 
warm," he repeated, as if that was the only thought 
keeping him going.

"Yes, yes, he does.  So do you.  Just a minute, we'll 
get you both someplace warm."  Scully pulled out 
her cell phone and dialed Michelson's number.  
"Call that ambulance back here, come to the far side 
of the building.  I found them!  Mulder and the boy, 
they're alive!"

Silver Cross Hospital
Joliet, Illinois
December 26, 2005

10:45 am

Scully's eyes widened as the nurse's aide brought in 
another bouquet of flowers and tried unsuccessfully 
to find a place to put them.  The windowsill, the 
bedside cabinet, the tray table and every other 
available space was already covered. 

"Maybe you could take them to one of the other 
wards," Scully suggested.  "We're only here till this 
afternoon."

"I'll get one of the spare meal carts, we can carry 
more that way," the aide said brightly.  "But you 
might want to take the cards.  This one," she said 
nodding to the large arrangement in her arms "is 
from the Governor."

Scully sighed and took the vase.  "Thanks.  We'll 
sort through them and then give you a call."

When the aide had gone, Mulder stuck his head out 
of the bathroom door.  "Is the coast clear?" he 
asked, his voice a raspy whisper.

"Not a camera in sight.  You're safe to come out 
now," Scully said, failing to hide her giggle.  "I 
could get you a robe," she added.

"As you just pointed out to that little aide, we're 
leaving in a few hours."  He hobbled over to the 
bed, but not before noticing that there was another 
bunch of flowers.  "Not more!  There can't be any 
more left in any florist in the state!"

"Mulder, you're a hero.  Get used to it."  She 
watched him crawl back into bed, coming over and 
helping him straighten his blankets.

"It wasn't me, Scully," he said quietly.
 
"Of course it was you, Mulder.  They brought Nate 
out on a stretcher."

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine.  Some physical therapy and he'll be 
out on the roof tops in no time.  You're dodging my 
question."

He looked at her for a minute, sizing her up.  "You 
better sit down for this," he warned her.

She frowned, but did as he directed. 

"I was helped, considerably, I might add, by your 
brother."  He sat back, watching her for her 
reaction.

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow.  "Charlie 
helped you?" she croaked out.

"Not Charlie.  I'm sorry, Scully, but I think Charlie 
is a lost cause.  No, it was your other brother who 
helped me.  Bill."

For a moment she fought the tears, but it was a 
losing battle.  "Bill," she whispered. 

He held his arms out to her and she gladly fell into 
them.  "How?  What are you saying?" she muttered 
into his shoulder.

"Bill was there, with us.  He got a bunch of rubble 
off me and then led me straight to Jason.  Then, 
when I could see a damned thing in that cell block, 
he led me to the way out.  We were just clearing the 
hole in the wall when the place collapsed.  That's 
when I fell and covered Jason as much as I could.  
Something hard hit my head and that's all I 
remember until I heard you call my name."

"Bill led you out of the cell block?" she asked, 
looking him in the face.  "Are you sure?"

"He told me who he was, Scully.  And he wasn't 
just a vision.  He had substance.  He had form.  He 
lifted stuff off me, for gods sakes!  And he helped 
Jason, even before he came to get me.  He helped 
the kid get away from Bracket.  Otherwise, Jason 
would have been blown to bits, just like the monster 
that kidnapped him."

"Why?" Scully asked.

"I asked him that too.  I don't know, I think he did it 
-- he did it because he'd want someone to do that for 
Matty.  Whatever reason, I want to take at least one 
of these bouquets back to DC with us. 

There's someone who deserves to share the glory."

Calvary Cemetery
Baltimore, Maryland
December 28, 2005

Snow fell softly on the brightly colored bouquet of 
carnations and lilies.  Mulder rose stiffly, taking 
Scully's gloved hand in his.  With a nod of gratitude, 
they started to walk back to their waiting car.  But 
not before Scully touched her fingertips to her lips 
and then lovingly caressed the granite stone marker 
her brother's grave.

End