Title: Life Cycles XVI: Holidays
Date: Wed, 30 Dec 1998

Summary: Another in the Life Cycles series. This one deals with
the Mulder's attempts to have a normal Hanukkah, but, as always,
serial killers have a way of disrupting the best laid plans. This story
follows 'Coming of Age' in the series

Category: S A MT MSR-Married

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: If we owned 'em . . . Hmmmmm, oh, sorry. Got lost
in fantasy there. We don't own 'em, Christ Carter does. But we
play really nice and we always wash our hands before eating and
Susan probably even makes her bed in the morning (I plead the
Fifth) so we don't want to do anything that would get us sued.
Like take money or infringe on copyrights.

Archive: MTA, of course and wherever Life Cycles is archived

Comments (Vickie): Me first, me first, because I get stuck editing
and I hate that <VEG> Well, we did it again. Amid Latke parties,
grading papers, parent-teachers conferences, Hanukkah and yes,
even Christmas, we did it. And as last time, it was wonderful. I
want to thank Susan for letting me play in her Garden again. I
enjoy these little playdates so much! <G> And for all of you who
haven't read the whole Life Cycles series, well you can whet your
appetite on this one, but do yourself a favor and read the rest. You
will love them as much as I do.

Comments Part deux: (Susan) So, the woman was crazy enough to
go for another roller coaster ride with me, and we came up with LC:
Holidays. There never seemed to be a descent...we just kept going
up, and up, and up! Whenever one of us ran into a roadblock, the
other managed to free us up. Vickie can come play in my universe
anytime! Of course, the next time we try a co-write, if we're smart,
it'll be during a nice, dull, uneventful month...like maybe April... during
Easter, Passover, and my son, Daniel's, Bar Mitzvah!! (The crazy thing
is, nothing would surprise me! <VBEG>)

And now onto the story!

Life Cycles XVI: Holidays
by Susan Proto and Vickie Moseley
STPteach@aol.com and
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com 




Dana Scully-Mulder stomped on the brake in the bumper to bumper
traffic, causing her mother to fall forward against her seat belt.

"Sweetheart, uh, I think a little patience is in order here," Maggie
Skinner said with a compassionate smile. "Just relax. We'll have
plenty of time at the mall."

"But if we don't get to FAO Swartz by the time they open, I'll have
no hope of finding that 'C Watch', Mom! Not to mention the crib
mobile I saw in the ad. And that's just the beginning. I have to see
if that Duplo set is still available, Adam was laughing at the Blue's
Clues CD-Rom in Best Buys the other day, I have to find a
'Glo-Worm' for the baby . . . Mom, there is not enough time left in
the _year_, much less today!"

Maggie shook her head in exasperation. "Dana, what has gotten
into you this year? It's like you're becoming some crazed shopper
I've never met before. Does Fox know . . ."

"Fox is on his own, Mom. I mean, we agreed when we first
decided to celebrate both holidays that he would handle the
Hanukkah gifts and I would handle Christmas. Mom, how can I
possibly compete when I only get one day and he gets eight? It's
just not fair."

"I wasn't aware it was a contest," Maggie said quietly.

Dana chewed on that a moment. "You're right, Mom. It's not a
contest. I never wanted it to be a contest. But Mulder is so excited
this year and he went out and bought this gold menorah . . ."

"To go with your carved oak Advent Wreath and your imported
carved wood Nativity set," Maggie said pointedly.

"I know, I know. I've been hogging the winter holidays. Mulder
was always so timid about Hanukkah and I had all the hype on TV
pushing Christmas even when I wasn't doing it myself. And face it,
Mom, Christmas is my favorite holiday.

"I love the way the house smells and the tree and the lights. And
Adam has always been fascinated by the Nativity scene, the animals
and the Baby Jesus. I guess I'm feeling a little territorial right now.
Mulder is really taking charge and I feel that if I don't make this a
'bang up' Christmas, Adam will . . . well, he'll . . ."

"Like his father's holiday more than yours," Maggie said with a
blank expression.

"My God, that sounds so shallow," Dana breathed out. "Oh, Mom,
that's not how I wanted my kids to think of the holidays. I wanted
them to cherish both their religions. And look at me. I'm such a
shrew!"

Maggie laughed affectionately at her daughter. "But you're a
lovable shrew," she told her. "Dana, you are under a lot of stress.
Now, a great deal of it is self-imposed, but it's stress, none the less.

"You have a new baby in the house, a very active five year old who
seems to take after his father in the mischief department, a husband
who needs your love and attention, and you miss your job but still
have a while before you go back to work. I think you're focusing
all your negative energy on the holidays. It's quite common, you
know."

"Is that Psych 201, talking, Mom?" Dana deadpanned. She'd been
teasing her mother ruthlessly since the older woman had enrolled in
the local Community College to finish her bachelors degree in
psychology that she'd started over thirty years before.

"If you must know, it was Cosmo, but that's entirely beside the
point, Dana. You need to just settle down, step back, and take a
good look at what the holidays really mean. I would hope I raised
you to understand that it's not the number of presents under the
tree, it's the feeling in your heart that counts."

"Oh, and does Walter know you read Cosmo, Mom?" Dana asked
to divert the attention from her own possible shallowness.

"Walter was the one who bought me the subscription, dear
daughter," Maggie replied with a slight leer in her voice. "And
don't you dare try to change the subject from you to me.

Maggie heard an audible sigh come from Dana. "Dana, slow down,
all right? Your child's life does not depend upon you buying a
certain number of toys in order to prove to Adam that your holiday
is more important than his father's holiday.

"Besides," she continued, "I thought you were supposed to
celebrate the holidays together, as a family."

''We're supposed to," Scully began with a definite edge to her voice,
"if Mulder can get out of an out of town case he was just assigned
to this morning. He's planning on pleading hardship, what with us
just having a relative newborn and all. I'll be really upset if they
don't let him out of it, Mom. He's been working so many hours for
VCU lately, I've hardly had a chance to say more than two words to
him."

"Well, let's park and get this over with. I'm not sure how long
Gam-pa will be able to hold down the fort with Adam and Dawn to
look after," Maggie said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder was kicking the trash can again, for the fourth, no make
that fifth time. He'd gone to the SAC and made a very reasonable,
rational case for his removal from this particular assignment.

He'd worked on three VCU cases for two months in a row. His
profiling skills were integral in making an arrest in all three cases.
He was tired. He hadn't been home on time in over a month and a
half, and he had a beautiful, but very colicky, infant at home that
he'd really like to get to know. He also had a rambunctious five
year old that was beginning to make his very tired mother even
more tired, and Mulder reasonably thought he was due some
down time. Especially during the holidays.

Especially this year. It had finally come to mean something to him.
He really, really wanted to share this holiday season with his family.
He came away from his Bar Mitzvah with a sense of renewal; a
rebirth of understanding what it was all about to be a part of a
community.

And he could read the prayers in Hebrew and chant them and teach
his son, and someday his daughter, what all Jews said on the same
nights all around the world.

And he wanted to share the joy he'd felt as a little boy, when he
received a present from his Nana for each of the eight nights of
Hanukkah. He wanted to go shopping, and feel some of the
excitement and joy that went along with the holiday season.

But instead, he was standing in his office, kicking the God damned
garbage can for about the fifteenth time in total and complete
frustration. He wasn't going shopping. He wasn't off the case. He
was going to be on a God damned flight to Illinois in about four
hours.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" he shouted at the top of his lungs in
total frustration. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to work
the profile on this case. He didn't want anything to do with it.

He didn't have a choice.

He'd read the file.

And after he managed to gain control of his breathing and kept the
bile down out of his throat, he looked at Tom Drake, the VCU
Section Chief, and simply nodded his head. He told Mulder his
flight left in five hours.

That was an hour ago, and Mulder continued to make the garbage
can a work of modern art. He was procrastinating and he knew it.
He had to go home and tell Scully he was leaving, and he didn't
know when he'd be back. He didn't want to miss the first night of
Hanukkah, but he didn't think he'd have a choice, as it came out the
second week of December this year.

God bless lunar calendars. It was hard enough to keep track of
important dates on a solar calendar. It was next to impossible to
keep track of those significant dates on one governed by the light of
the silvery moon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Adam, what in the world are you doing?" Dana demanded as she
walked into the dining room, baby Dawn on her shoulder. Her
oldest child was teetering on one of the dining room chairs shoved
up against the breakfront. He'd been doing some rearranging, as
the three purple and one pink advent candles were now lopsidedly
shoved in the smaller holders of the menorah.

"It was lonely, Mommy," Adam stated plaintively. "Why can't we
put the candles in the yellow one for a while?"

Dana sighed. Where was her newly 'born again' Jewish husband
when she needed him?

"Adam, Mommy and Daddy explained this. The wooden 'Advent
Wreath' is used right after Thanksgiving and goes till Christmas,
you remember, with the tree and Santa? And the gold
candle holder, the Menorah? We'll use it in a couple of days. We
light those candles one each night for a week. You'll get a present
each night and Daddy will read and sing like he did this summer.

"Sweetheart, you remember the day Dawn was born at Grandma's
and Grandpa's, don't you?" Just by looking at his face, she could
tell she'd lost him somewhere around the mention of Santa. At that
exact moment, Dawn let out a loud burp and a howl, curling up
around her little tummy as the gas fought its way through her
system.

"Shhh, Shhh, sweet baby girl, I know your tummy hurts. Mommy
is so sorry," Dana cooed as she jostled the baby on her shoulder and
started pacing her normal circuit through both the living room and
the dining room. Dawn's cries only became louder and more high
pitched.

Dana looked up to find her husband standing sheepishly in the
doorway.

"You're home early for a change!" she said happily, and jostled the
baby over to hand her off to her father. "Here, we need the magic
touch."

Mulder accepted the squalling infant and the perennial spit up cloth,
placing the cloth over his suit jacket shoulder and positioning Dawn
on top of it. Then he started a similar path as he wife.

"Uh, I'm not exactly home," he said, all the time stroking the baby's
back and sides. The cries were growing softer and the shrillness
had left the baby's voice.

Dana stopped her route to the kitchen to look back at him. "Don't
tell me this is some weird experiment in dopplegangers, Mulder,
because I'm really not in the mood. Unless I get to have one, too,"
she said, arms crossed in front of her.

"What's a 'topplegagger'," Adam asked, tugging at his father's pants
leg.

"Not right now, big guy," Mulder deflected his son. "I mean, I'm
only here to . . ."

Dana closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she opened
them, she was pulling in all the 'calm resources' she had. "They
didn't let you out of the case out of town," she said with no
expression.

"Dane. I tried. God in heaven, I tried. I screamed, I yelled. In
fact I need you to order us a new wastebasket when you get back
next month . . ." He was the picture of a tortured soul. His eyes
pleaded with her for understanding.

"Where?"

"Illinois."

"How long? No, don't answer that. I won't like the answer, and it
will be conjecture at best." She drew in more air and let it out
slowly. "I got your shirts from the cleaners, but you only have four
pair of suit pants clean."

He looked at her. He knew that she was waging a war inside
herself. She knew the job, she knew he had to go. But she was
also a very tired new mother who needed a break.

"I'm gonna call Mom and Dad, see if they can come over and give
you a hand while I'm gone," he told her. It sounded lame, even to
his own ears.

She bit her lip and walked with slumped shoulders into the kitchen.

Dawn had fallen asleep on what Dana called 'Daddy's magic
shoulder', so he tiptoed into the newly decorated nursery and
tucked her into the crib. Taking all necessary precautions, he
turned on the CD player with ocean sounds and left the little Winnie
the Pooh lamp on night light level before he left. When he finally
found his wife, she was chopping onions with tears streaming down
her cheeks.

He took the knife out of her hand and spun her around. "Hey, you
don't have to hide your tears in onions," he told her, pulling her
close. "I'm sorry. I hate this. I'll quit. Right now, I'll call Walter
and give him my resignation. And this time, damn it, I'll make him
accept it." He murmured into her hair.

She smiled into his lapel. "You can't quit. Slaves have to be sold,"
she teased him through tears.

"No, I mean it. This is shit. I can't leave you now, that would be . .
. damn it, it would be too much like something _my_ father would
do! I won't do that to you, I won't," he said angrily.

She pushed away from him just enough to look up into his face.
"What's the case?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her
hand.

"Teen aged boys. Kids, really. First two were assumed to be
runaways until they found the bodies stuffed in the bottom of a corn
crib. I saw those faces, Scully, and I kept seeing, . . . God help me,
I saw Adam." He shook his head sadly.

"How many have been killed?"

"Five that we know of. More are possible, they're going through
the Missing Children's database now."

"And you're seriously thinking you can walk away from that?" she
asked, taking a deep, shuddering breath and fixing him with a
deadly stare.

He bit his lip. "Scully," he moaned. "What do I do? What
_should_ I do?"

She tugged on his lapels and brought his mouth down to hers.
When she released him, she patted the cloth down and smoothed it,
then took his hands in hers.

"It's not just a job with us, G-Man. I knew that long before I
married you. It's our souls. And I won't make you choose." She
took another deep breath. "Not that I'm overjoyed about this," she
added with a rueful smile, "but I do remember something I said
once about 'for better or worse'. I guess I'll have to let you slide on
this one."

He leaned down and kissed her soundly. "I'll call every chance I
get. And I'll make it up to you. Hell, I told them as much. I am
_off duty_ from the moment this case is over until New Years. I'll
go in and do paperwork, but I'm out of there in under eight hours,
or I go postal on them."

She knew he would never be able to keep such a promise, but she
loved him anyway.

"So, what's for dinner?" he asked, looking at the counter top, which
was now covered in neatly diced onions.

"Onion quiche?" she offered breaking a sly smile as she said the
words.

His eyes narrowed. "Real G-Men don't eat quiche," he recited and
reached around her for the phone book. "I'm ordering pizza, and I
don't want any arguments."

She gave him a smile that almost completely hid her pain.

Her heart was still breaking, two hours later, as his cab arrived to
take him to the airport. He didn't want to wake the baby, and he
didn't want her to drive the interstate that late with both children.

She kissed him, just like her mother had kissed her own father as he
went off to sea, and she hid her tears until the door was closed, so
she could cry without his knowing about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Uh-huh. Well, wasn't there anyone else who could have been sent
on this one? I mean, for God's sakes, the man has already had three
cases in two months. You know he's only going to be there a short
time, I think the work load is a little excessive, don't you?"

Walter Skinner shifted the phone to his other ear and glared at his
desktop. "No, I don't think I'm being overly protective and the fact
that Agent Mulder is my son-in-law has _nothing_ to do with it.
I've seen the caseloads of the other agents in the section and I still
think . . ."

The set of his jaw showed just how hard Walter Skinner was
working at keeping his voice calm.

"Yes, I am aware of that." From across the desk, Maggie could
hear her husband's teeth grind and she winced and bit her lip, trying
to give him an encouraging look. Walter shook his head and
narrowed his eyes, staring at his desk blotter.

"Well, I think I might have to take this up with the Director." Now
Maggie could hear the raised voice of the VCS Section Chief even
over the distance.

"Same to you, Tom!" SLAM! The receiver bounced in it's cradle
before coming to rest in the silence of the office.

"Well, so much for keeping 'calm, cool and collected," Maggie said
quietly with a half-smile at her husband.

"The man is an unreasonable prick, Maggie! There is no 'calm, cool
and collected' in his vocabulary." Walter slumped into his chair and
put his glasses back on lost somewhere after the greeting of the
conversation that had lasted almost fifteen minutes.

"He isn't going to assign another agent to the case," Maggie said
with a sigh. She had been somewhat surprised to find her husband
on the phone when she'd come to take him to lunch, but it hadn't
taken her long to figure out the subject matter.

She'd figured Walter would try something like that. He'd been
beside himself when he'd come home the night before and
announced that 'the bastards in VCS' were 'using Fox like a slave'
and had sent their son-in-law off to Illinois with only five hours
notice. And in all likelihood, he would be gone at least over the
first days of Hanukkah.

Maggie had called Dana immediately upon hearing the news, but
her daughter had assured her everything was fine. "We're fine,
Mom." Maggie remembered how many times Dana had used that
phrase with her, and she wasn't convinced this time, either. Dana's
words were plain enough, but from the phone line, Maggie had
heard the catch in her voice that betrayed the tears.

Her first impulse was to drop everything and run right over to Fox
and Dana's house and not leave until Fox came home. She was
getting her purse when her 'reasonable' husband stopped her.

"Is that what Dana wants?" he'd asked. It was enough to make
Maggie stop and remember just how independent her children were.
As much as she wanted to go over and take control, that was
exactly how much Dana did _not_ want her there.

Dana had always considered herself strong enough to face anything,
and this was just another hurtle to her. She had never taken kindly
to anyone's interference in her life, something her husband had
experienced a couple of times before their marriage.

So Maggie had taken off her coat and spent the rest of the evening
trying to get her mind off her daughter's problems. She'd thought
that was what Walter had been doing, too, but she found out he
was busy devising other plans.

"You aren't really going to the Director on this, are you, Walter? I
mean, that would upset _both_ of them, Fox and Dana," Maggie
pointed out. By the look on his face, her husband had already
figured that out, too.

"I know. I can't. Besides, the prick, er , the 'chief' actually had a
good reason to send Mulder on this. They had another agent doing
the profile and they found him in his hotel room, tossing up blood.
He's been admitted to the hospital, bleeding ulcer. He's out for
several weeks. The chief didn't have a choice. Mulder is the only
one capable of walking in and being brought up to speed on such
short notice."

"Fox is good. Maybe it won't be that long," Maggie said hopefully,
but Walter shook his head.

"If the killer were escalating, and I know that sounds so cruel to
hope for, but if that were the case, there would be more leads,
more evidence for Mulder to follow. But as it is, he might be there
a week, maybe more. The best possible solution would be for the
killer to be caught in the act, before he actually murders another
boy . . ."

Maggie's eyes grew wide. "Boy? How old?"

Walter really didn't want to go into this with his wife. He knew
how much she took these things to heart. "Teenagers, Maggie.
Fifteen, sixteen, thirteen years old. Not little boys."

"Adam in the future," Maggie whispered and Walter could see her
trying not to dwell on that thought. She looked up at him. "Why
couldn't he work in Bank Fraud while Dana is on maternity leave?"

Walter laughed and shook his head. "You don't think I didn't try
that one? Mulder couldn't stop laughing! He pointed out that Dana
keeps the checkbook for a reason. He still doesn't have any idea
what his net worth is. He's horrible with numbers. And as a
'coup de grace' he reminded me that it wouldn't do the family _or_
the Bureau any good to have him convicted of embezzling just
because he screwed up some paperwork. Besides, Maggie, profiling
is what he knows. This is what he's trained for and this is what
he's good at. I don't think he'd allow me to have him moved to
'white collar crime'."

"So, we can't let Dana think we're helping her, and we can't bring
Fox home. We're between the proverbial 'rock and a hard place',"
Maggie said with another sigh.

Walter came around the desk and pulled his wife up from her chair
into his arms. "We'll think of something. But for now, I'm starved.
Staying all 'cool and calm' really worked up an appetite."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He'd gotten to the hotel the night before around ten thirty, called
the local Chicago office to check in, and was told he was expected
eight o'clock the following morning. Mulder was most grateful for
that, for last night's flight was one of the most uncomfortable ones
he'd been through in a while.

He hadn't realized it when he'd left, but the scratchy throat he'd
been harboring for the last day or so had developed into a full
blown chest cold. He'd felt his ears popping during the entire flight
last night, and now, this morning, he found it difficult to take a deep
breath without feeling some discomfort.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud in anger, frustration, and just a little bit
of pain, "I can't believe I have to be brilliant when I feel like dreck!"
All of a sudden, Mulder found himself smiling.

The first time he'd ever uttered that particular word aloud was
when he was just a little boy, a little younger than Adam was now.
He remembered this because Nana was still alive. In fact, it was to
his Nana he'd uttered the word.

*Oh, Nana, you're such a 'stick dreck',* the young Fox squealed out
in delight.

*Foxila, where did you learn such words?* asked his Nana kindly.

*Which words, Nana?* the small boy asked innocently.

*'Shtick dreck, shayner boychikel,'* she replied.

*'Oh, Mr. Mac, our gym teacher at Nursery School says it to us
when we go to the gym room,* Fox replied.

*Mr. Mac?*

*Yeah, Nana, Mr. Mac. His real name is Mr. Macciarola, but
nobody could ever say it as good as me, so we just call him Mr.
Mac.*

*Foxila, did Mr. Mac ever tell you what 'shtick dreck' means?*
asked Nana with a smile on her face.

*No, Nana. I didn't know it meant anything,* Fox replied honestly.

At this point, the old woman began shaking with giggles. *Oy,
sweetheart, it means 'big sh__,'* Nana hesitated for a moment when
she realized it would be inappropriate to state the vulgar terminology
to her four and half year old grandson.

*It means 'big poop!* she explained in between peels of laughter.

The two of them laughed in companionship of a secret now shared
by them. Mulder never did find out why Mr. Mac stopped using
the phrase after that day, but he suspected his very diplomatic nana
had something to do with it.

And now, he really did feel like a 'big poop'. His chest felt like a
twenty pound weight was pressed against it, and his head felt as
though it had swelled overnight to twice its normal size. The last
thing he wanted to do was try and get into the head of a serial killer
that got off on killing adolescents.

The last thing he felt he was capable of doing at the moment was
getting inside the head of a lunatic. Unfortunately, he wasn't given
a choice in the manner. He checked his tie, wished Scully were
there to check it for him, and headed to the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RIINNGGGG! RIINNGGGG!

"Damn it, I'm coming! Please don't wake her up, please don't wake
her up," Dana muttered as she ran to catch the phone before it rang
a third time. "Hello," she said somewhat more tersely than she'd
intended.

"Hey, Dana, it's Leslie. Did I catch you at a bad time?" asked one
of Dana's best friends, Leslie Goldfarb.

"No, Leslie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so, so__."

"__bitchy?" asked Leslie with a chuckle. As one of Dana's best
friends, she had a liberty few others could take.

"Exactly. Dawn just went down for her nap about fifteen minutes
ago," she explained.

"I hear you," Leslie replied. "I was so grateful Jason wasn't
colicky. I'm still amazed that, after Rachael, we actually chose to
go forth and have him,'' she laughed.

"Every time I feel like screaming and jumping out the window over
Dawn's colic, I just keep thinking of how wonderfully Rachael
turned out. There really is hope, right Leslie?" Dana asked seeking
moral support.

"Yes, it does get better, I swear, Dana. In fact, I'd say she should
turn into the darling little angel you'd prayed for in the next few
weeks. Really," Leslie responded with encouragement.

"God, I hope you're right, Les. I don't know how much longer I'll
be able to keep my sanity, especially without Daddy's magic
shoulder around," lamented Dana.

"Mulder's not there again?"

"Nope. They dragged him off kicking and screaming to Chicago,"
answered Dana.

"He'll be back in time for Hanukkah, won't he?" asked Leslie
hopefully.

"We don't know. He hopes to be, but it's a nasty case, and unless
they catch a break, I won't bet on it." A thought then occurred to
Dana. "Les, how about you, Richard, and the kids join us over here
for a Hanukkah party?"

"Oh sweetie, I wish we could. That's one of the reasons I was
calling; I wanted to let you know we were going to be out of town
for the holidays.

"You know my kooky sister?" Leslie continued to explain, "You
know, the one who adopts a different religion every six months?"

"Of course, I do."

"Well, she's given up on the Muslim religion, or was it Buddhist? I
don't know, except believe it or not, she's decided to try out
Judaism. Can you believe it? For the next six months, or so, we'll
at least be on the same page!

"Anyway, I wanted to let you know we were going to be by my
sister's for Hanukkah, and then we were going to go straight to my
Mom and Dad's for Christmas," explained Leslie.

"Oh."

"Dana, I'm so sorry. If you want, we can cancel __," Leslie began.

" __ Oh Les, don't be silly. You're not going to cancel anything.
You're going to go be with your family and have a wonderful time!
I'll be fine, sweetie, really," replied an adamant Dana.

"Hey, where's 'Grandma Bette' in all this? Isn't she going to come
down and spend Hanukkah with her favorite grandson and
granddaughter?"

Dana sighed. Another sore subject. "She called on Thanksgiving.
She's going to Europe for the month of December. She said she'd
catch up with us after the New Year."

"Wow. Great timing," Les said dryly.

"My thoughts exactly," Dana replied in kind. "Don't sweat it, Les.
We'll be fine. And we'll see you when you get back."

"Well, if you're sure."

"Never surer. Have a wonderful Hanukkah and a Merry Christmas,
Leslie. Give the kids a kiss for me, okay?"

"Okay, and Dana, save New Year's Day for us, please?" asked a
slightly contrite Leslie.

"New Year's Day is yours," responded Dana, and then the two
friends said their good byes. Dana replaced the receiver, said a
rather well articulated swear word, and then sighed loudly as she
heard the squalling screams of her now very awake, and obviously
still very colicky, infant daughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder arrived at the Chicago bureau office somewhat bleary
eyed and congested. He refused to allow his physical condition get
in the way of doing his job, so he stocked up on the usual over
the counter medications Dana had prescribed in the past.

When he first arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar
face. Riichi Obayashi stood up with his hand extended and
immediately greeted Mulder.

"Mulder, it's good to see you."

"Riichi, what the hell are you doing here, and it's great to see you."

"I got a call last night to take the red eye out here for this case.
I think we've been paired up, Mulder."

"Walter."

"That's my best guess," Riichi agreed.

"I think he tried to get me out of this case," Mulder said quietly to
his friend.

"No doubt about it. Rumors were flying that the telephone
conversation between AD Skinner and the Section Chief could be
heard from here to Washington and all points in between. I suspect
Walter called and demanded I be partnered with you as a
concession," Riichi confirmed.

"Well, I guess nepotism has its advantages," Mulder muttered.

"Mulder, AD Skinner would have insisted on this whether you were
his son-in- law or not. He's always watched out for you and Dana.
You know that," insisted Riichi.

"Yeah, you're right, and to tell you the truth, it doesn't matter.
I don't care why you were sent here; I'm just grateful you were.

"Me too, my friend, and from the looks of it, not a moment too
soon. Mulder, ol' boy, you look like shit."

"I feel like dreck too," he whispered in reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting had gone on for approximately two hours in order to
bring Mulder, Obayashi, and two other agents newly brought into
the case, up to speed. Mulder had requested to take some of the
files back with him to the motel, but the SAC insisted all files
remain in the central office which was set up as the team's meeting
place. SAC James Albright insisted every agent have access to all
files on an as needed basis.

Mulder was annoyed, because this meant he'd never see the inside
of his motel room tonight. He really wanted the privacy to call and
speak with Scully, but Mulder realized he'd have to forego the
privacy and just call her later.

He and Obayashi split the files between them and began organizing
them to Mulder's specifications. The other two new agents, Dale
Jensen and Kelly Watson, were assigned to research and were at
Mulder's disposal only if absolutely necessary.

The SAC had been somewhat ambivalent about Fox Mulder joining
the team. He'd never had the opportunity to work with him before,
but he knew of his reputation. The man could solve just about
anything, which was a great asset. However, the SAC also knew,
for whatever reason, trouble usually accompanied this particular
agent whenever he was profiling a case.

SAC Albright wasn't sure if it was because Mulder threw himself so
totally into a case he became totally unaware of the dangers that
were posed to him, or if the man simply became sloppy and was
incompetent.

Since he'd been married, he seemed to get into less trouble.
Apparently marrying his partner settled him down somewhat, but
Albright still wasn't entirely confident since the wife wasn't with
him. Which is another reason he didn't object to Headquarters
demand that Agent Obayashi be assigned to Mulder.

Apparently the two had worked together in the past, and Obayashi
actually liked working with the 'spookster.' Though he had never
experienced the ''spooky'' persona personally, Albright had heard
of the nickname which was apparently tagged on Mulder where ever
he went.

The SAC had heard some of the other agents talking in the pen, so
he knew Mulder's reputation had preceded him with some of the
men. Albright was determined, however, to give Mulder a fair
shake. If he was as good as they say he was, he didn't care if
Mulder was Casper the Friendly Ghost.

So Albright wasn't about to 'look a gift horse in the mouth', as the
saying goes, and he welcomed both Agents Mulder and
Obayashi with open arms. Besides, it got the DC head
honchos off of his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Any progress?'' asked Albright when he poked his head into the
small conference room where Riichi and Mulder sat sifting through
towers of files.

Mulder looked up helplessly, ready to assume the defensive stance
he was so used to having to take when he didn't produce immediate
results. Riichi took note of Mulder's expression and immediately
stepped in the role of his protector.

"We're working as fast as we can, Sir. It's just that we have a
great deal of data to go through, so Mulder hasn't enough
information to make even a preliminary profile," explained Riichi.

Albright looked at Riichi somewhat confused. As much as he knew
Mulder was supposed to be the Golden Boy of Profiling, he really
wasn't expecting him to have had a profile ready at this point.

His entire team was having trouble getting a handle on this killer;
why the hell would either of the men sitting before him think he
would expect a miracle at this point.

And that's what it would have to be; a miracle. It was the opinion
of the group the killer was beginning to escalate. Another body
was found earlier that morning, and none of the agents were
confident they would catch the sonofabitch before he killed again.

So Albright looked at the two agents and simply said, "I understand
that, Agent Obayashi. I don't expect you to be doing anything
less."

And with that he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fox Mulder's phone," answered Riichi absently as he continued
sorting through old interviews, looking for the one Mulder had
mentioned.

"He's got you answering his _cell phone_ now, Riichi? Aren't you
taking this 'support' thing a bit far," Dana teased lightly.

Riichi chuckled. "Hey, just be thankful he hasn't asked me to take
up more of your 'partnerly duties'," he teased in return. "He
stepped into the little agent's room and left his jacket. He knows
how you and Walter worry when you get a 'no answer' on his cell
phone, so he asked me to grab it if it rang."

"Well, we have had cause in the past for that worry," Dana
reminded their friend.

"Don't I remember. Hey, the object of your affection just walked
in. Here he is." Riichi handed the cell phone to Mulder and got up,
feigning a long stretch. "I'm getting coffee. Be back in a few."
With a wink he was out the door.

"What was that all about?" Dana asked, hearing every word.

"Oh, you know Riichi. Didn't want to witness the phone sex,"
Mulder replied and then promptly sneezed.

"Did you . . ."

"I have expectorant that I'm taking every four hours, a 12 hour
decongestant that makes me have to drink 20 cups of coffee to
keep awake, and I got the 'good' tissues that don't make my nose
raw. Riichi threatened to rub vaporub on me, but I drew my gun
and he backed off. I'm fine," Mulder said, punctuating with a sniff
and a blow.

"That's _my_ line, G-man. Don't go stealing my line," Dana said in
a mock threatening tone.

"How are you? Really?" Mulder didn't even bother to hide the
loneliness and worry behind the words. "My baby girl getting any
sleep?"

"Dawn made it through a two hour nap this morning," Dana said
triumphantly.

"Actually, I meant my 'other' baby girl. I'm glad Dawn napped.
Now, did you?"

"I, ah, well, the laundry . . ."

"You're mumbling, Dane. Either you took a nap or you didn't.
Which is it?"

"Don't interrogate me over the phone, Mulder," she sighed, slightly
irritated. "I don't want to argue. I'm . . ."

"Let's start over," Mulder interrupted. They were both a little on
edge. It had been three days since he'd said goodbye. He was
feeling rotten and knew she was exhausted, and he'd already been
informed through the grapevine that she was refusing any offers
of help.

Mulder loved the strong, passionate, independent woman he
married, but at that moment, he wanted her to just bend a little and
let someone give her a hand. If not him, then their family at least.
But Dana would hear nothing of it. She was fine.

"OK, starting over. I love you," Dana said into the phone.

"Oh, good. The phone sex part," Mulder replied, and it warmed his
heart to hear her answering laughter.

"You wish," she giggled. "No, I really had a question, otherwise I
would have waited for your call this evening."

"I don't know nothing about no stinkin' dishwasher repair, lady.
Call a plumber."

"I fixed that yesterday. No, it's about tonight."

"Tonight?" Mulder stared at the desktop, trying to figure out what
was so special about that night.

"It's the first candle night. You know, sundown starts Hanukkah.
We have this nice, expensive, beautiful menorah sitting on the
breakfront, and I haven't a clue how to use it."

Mulder smacked his head and winced. Hanukkah. He hadn't
looked at a calendar in a couple of days except to notice what day
of the week it was, not bothering with the date.

"Hanukkah," he said sadly.

"Yep. I got a recipe for potato pancakes in my lap, five pounds of
potatoes on the counter, and a five year old boy who is _not_ going
to take 'no' for an answer. He's been promised Hanukkah and by
jimminy, he's gonna get it!"

"Exact words, or are you paraphrasing him," Mulder smiled tiredly
into the phone.

"Exact words. I think he was watching Pinocchio on Disney last
night. Anyway, the pancakes aren't that hard, but the candle part
has me stumped. I don't think I can substitute my Advent readings
for the prayers, Fox. I suspect that would be a bad thing."

"I don't think it would be the end of the world, but it could send
some people spinning in their graves, " Mulder responded as he
shook his head. "All right, I'd bought a book at Temple Emmanuel's
religious boutique. It's a nice, easy to read, book, Dane. Very
shiksa friendly," he explained with a chuckle.

"Oh, thanks a lot, Mulder!" she responded equally giddy.

Since Mulder had found more strength in his religious beliefs, the
two of them found they were better able to tease one another about
their faiths. It helped relax the tension which sometimes built up as
they both struggled to find a way of accommodating their dual
religions.

"Where is this magical book?" she asked, and then listened to
Mulder's description of where he'd hidden it for safe keeping.
When she'd managed to find it among the stacks of files,
knickknacks, and assorted UFO literature, she said, "Okay G-Man,
got it. Now what?"

"Well, there's a whole bunch of songs in it, but I guess you don't
really know the melodies. Heck, I don't know if I remember the
melodies, but you might just want to read the words with Adam.
There's some little activities in it, if you want to have him do one
tonight, and then save another for each of the eight nights. I don't
remember how many activities are in the book __," he rambled.

"__ But what about the prayers, Mulder?" Dana interrupted.

"I'm coming to that, damn it!" he replied angrily. When Mulder
heard his wife gasp in response, he quickly caught himself and
began to apologize profusely.

"Dane? Dane, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that __,
well, it's just that this year, I wanted to be there with Adam so badly
__, and with you, and Dawn, and now I'm stuck here, and I can't
even help you celebrate my fuckin' holiday __."

It was at that moment the frustration of not making any progress on
the case, feeling like shit, and of being far too many miles away
from his family finally hit Fox Mulder. And he expressed that
frustration by making a fist and taking it out on the heavy, metal
desk he sat at.

"Damn!" he cried out, as he tried to rub away the pain of his now
very bruised and somewhat bloodied knuckles.

"Mulder? It's okay. Really. I know you didn't mean it," she replied
in attempt to soothe him.

"God, Scully, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I know, Mulder, and I said it's okay. Now, really, I need to know
what I should say tonight when I light the candles," repeated Dana.
She could hear him take a deep breath, and so she waited patiently.

"Okay,'' he began, "there's a page which says Candle Blessings, I
think." He waited as he heard her rifle through the pages of the
small paperback book.

"I found it!"

"Good, well, the first night you have to say a little extra. It tells
you which one, Scully, right?" he explained. He waited for her
confirmation. "Good, oh and Scully? The candle you light goes on
the right side of the menorah, not the left. It's kind of like
reading Hebrew, okay?"

"Sure, Mulder. Listen, is it okay if I read the English. I don't know
if I can handle reading the transliteration," she confessed.

"I guess so," he said with disappointment, but then he excitedly
said, "Wait! Dane? What if I called home and said the prayers with
you guys over the phone? Couldn't we do that, Dane?

"I mean, I can call around seven o'clock your time, okay? That
would be okay, wouldn't it?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course it would be," Dana replied. "I don't know why I didn't
think of that."

"Okay, good. I'm gonna see if I can track down a prayer book on
this end. Worse comes to worse I can get it off the internet, but I
think I'd really like to try and find a copy of the same book you
have. This way we can all do one of the activities together,"
Mulder proposed, decidedly more happy than he was minutes ago.

"Sounds like a plan, G-Man. We'll be awaiting your call at seven. I
love you, Fox," Dana said lovingly.

"Oh, Dane. I love you so much. I really, really miss you all," he
replied tenderly.

"I know. Okay, I've got to get started on these pancakes,'' she
replied.

"Latkes."

"What?" asked Dana.

"Not pancakes. Latkes," answered Mulder.

"Right. Latkes. Gotta get started on these latkes," she repeated.
"I'll speak to you later __."

"__Don't forget to __." Mulder realized she'd already hung up
before he could remind her to put the grated potatoes through a
sieve to drain of all the excess water. Otherwise, the potato latkes
are potato mush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albright had returned to his office somewhat disconcerted by the
reactions of his two agents. He knew of Fox Mulder's reputation
for being a profiler who got quick results, but he found it difficult
to believe anyone would have expected him to figure out the killer's
profile so soon.

The SAC had heard some rumors about Mulder's propensity for
taking undue risks in his efforts to solve a case. Albright admired
the Mulder's tenacity but was a bit puzzled by the man's apparent
defensiveness.

SAC Albright also found it unusual for another agent, who wasn't
even the permanent partner, to so quickly take a line of defense for
his colleague. It's almost as though Obayashi felt the need to
protect Mulder from Albright, and that in and of itself disconcerted
the SAC.

He'd always considered himself a fair manager. Sure, Albright had
high expectations for those agents under his charge, but he never
expected anything more of his underlings than he expected of
himself. Albright had been a SAC for just over eighteen months, so
he hadn't any opportunities to work with the people from DC while
in a managerial position prior to this case.

He had a bad feeling about this one. He didn't know what it was
that niggled at him, but Albright felt as though there was something
he was missing. Albright wasn't that much older than Mulder or
Obayashi, so he was at a slight disadvantage regarding age and
experience in dealing with this situation.

But even though the SAC was relatively new on the job, Albright
was good at what he did, and he had enough confidence in himself
to know it. However, the fact that Albright had already lost one
profiler to illness presented the SAC with a good enough reason to
play it cautiously.

Albright buzzed his secretary and asked, "Margie, who is Agent
Mulder's direct supervisor in DC?"

"One minute, Agent Albright, I'll check the file," she responded as
she brought up Mulder's file on the hard drive to check his current
status. "Assistant Director Walter Skinner, Sir."

"Walter Skinner?" he echoed. "Shit," he mumbled, and then added,
"Oh, sorry 'bout that, Margie."

"No problem, Sir. You should hear me when I stub my toe. I can
make a truck driver blush."

"I bet you could," Albright chuckled. "Ummm, Margie, do me a
favor and try to connect me with AD Skinner. I need to speak with
him."

Albright had only briefly met the AD at a conference some months
back, but he had heard of Walter Skinner's reputation as being one
tough as nails, by the book, sonofabitch Assistant Director. He
wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with this man regarding his
concerns about the agents he purposely sent to help solve this case.

Albright didn't want to antagonize the man by insinuating that
perhaps he'd made an error in judgment in sending Mulder. The
SAC had learned pretty quickly Mulder had just come off a case in
another part of the country, and of course now the poor guy was
fighting a nasty cold.

All Albright was hoping for now was a sympathetic ear and some
information to help him deal with these two agents in a manner that
would bring out the best in them. It upset Albright to think of the
possibility that Mulder appeared almost frightened of him. It was
strange, to say the least, and something he'd never encountered
before. He knew he had to find out more about this so called
profiling genius.

Several minutes later, Margie buzzed Albright to inform him AD
Skinner was on line one. He thanked his ever efficient secretary
and picked up the phone.

"AD Skinner, James Albright here, Sir."

"What happened?" Skinner asked.

"Sir?" Albright gasped in surprise. That question was the last one
he'd have expected to come out of AD Skinner's mouth.

"Has anything happened?" Skinner repeated in a tone that
threatened to betray the professionalism he was trying desperately
to maintain.

"No, Sir, we're still at a standstill on the case. We still haven't got a
positive handle on our UNSUB, but the team is putting in an
extraordinary effort. In fact, the reason I called was I hoped to learn
a little more about a couple of members of the team, so I might help
them work even more efficiently," Albright stated.

"I would assume you're talking about Mulder and Riichi Obayashi,"
Skinner predicted.

"Yes, Sir, as a matter of fact it is. I was hoping you could provide
me with some background on them," Albright proposed.

"Background? I'm not sure I understand," replied Walter in a
tenser tone of voice.

James Albright picked up on the change in Skinner's voice
immediately, and he worried if he'd breached some code of ethics
without realizing it. He certainly did not want to clash with the
Assistant Director, but Albright also felt it was absolutely necessary
to take that risk in order to best help his members work more as a
team; with each other and with him.

"Yes, Sir," Albright began tentatively. "Some background that
might help me understand a rather unusual reaction I received from
them a bit earlier."

"A reaction to what? How did they react? C'mon, Albright, you're
going to have to give me some more information here."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I'm just not sure how to explain it. It's possible I
was even imagining it; my own reaction might be totally off base."
When Albright heard a sigh of apparent consternation from the other
end, he continued.

"I'd gone in to the command center Agents Mulder and Obayashi
had set up. I asked them if there was any progress. Just like that,
Sir. The tone with which I presented that question was no more
dramatic than that.

"Well, Agent Mulder's reaction seemed a bit out of whack with the
question presented, and it concerned me," Albright put forth.

"How did he react, Agent?" Skinner now asked in something akin to
a whisper, knowing full well what Albright's answer would be.

"Well, first it almost looked as though he shuddered to me. Then
he just looked at me and stared at me. Sir, if I didn't know any
better, I'd swear the man was frightened of what I was going to say
next.

"Then,'' Albright continued, "what made it all the more strange, was
Agent Obayashi's reaction to Mulder. I mean the man seemed to
take on the role of Mulder's defender. He immediately stated there
was no possible way Mulder could come up with a conclusive
profile in three short days when there was so much data to sift
through."

"Well, Obayashi's correct, Albright," Walter replied in a tone
reminiscent that of a protector himself.

"But, Sir, that's just it. I couldn't agree with you more, and I'd
never given any indication that I'd expected Mulder to have come
up with a profile. All I asked was if there was any progress. A
relatively simple, but appropriate question for me as their SAC to
ask, Sir," Albright responded in a defensive tone.

Walter heard the tone and immediately felt contrite. He realized
SAC Albright was merely doing his job, and Mulder wasn't just
responding; he was anticipating.

And Obayashi, in his infinite wisdom and experience in working
with Mulder in the past, anticipated a conflict in the making and
jumped into the fray to defend his colleague from any of the insults
and intolerance that had always followed Fox in the past.

Apparently James Albright wasn't aware of all the Spooky
innuendoes, nor the lack of tolerance many of Mulder's peers had
for him. Riichi Obayashi was an unusual exception to the norm,
and Walter thanked the powers that be for whatever had brought
them together.

Albright was okay. Walter realized he needed to come clean with
him so he'd understand the situation better. It was for all of their
sakes.

"James, there's a good reason for the way both men reacted. First,
Agent Mulder is very good at what he does. He does not,
however, usually spend his time on profiling. Normally, he works
in areas other than profiling," Skinner asked.

"Oh. So why isn't he working on them now?" Albright asked
curiously.

"Mulder 's usual partner is on maternity leave, and though he
doesn't profile full-time any longer, he's been loaned out to VCS
even though he's got a pile of work of his own sitting unattended,"
explained the AD.

"So while his partner's on maternity leave, he gets to do profiles?"

"You make it sound like it's something he _wants_ to do. No, he
most certainly would rather not be profiling, especially without his
partner," clarified Skinner.

"Why? I mean if he's as good at the profiling as you say he is,"
questioned the SAC.

"Because she keeps him sane."

James Albright paused a moment before he continued his own
personal search for the truth.

"But I still don't understand his reaction, Sir. Why would he think
I'd expect him to produce a complete profile in such a short time
frame?"

"Because most AIC's would have, Albright. And most others have
let it be known they didn't appreciate it when Mulder's services
were offered, because they knew Mulder invariably succeeded
where they'd already failed, countless times, over and over again.
Jealousy was often the reason for other's antagonistic attitudes
toward Mulder. And all because he's a genius at what he does.

"Agent Albright; James, Mulder will get you the profile, and I
suspect it will be soon. He says he doesn't have it done yet; it may
not be a finished product on paper, but it's done. He's got it
finished in his head, and he's probably got written notes scattered all
over the desk and on his laptop.

"He'll present it to you when he's sure it will catch this madman,
because there's nothing more that Mulder wants to do. He wants to
catch the madman before he gets inside the lunatic's head too much,
and then go home to his wife, son, and new daughter," Skinner
explained with a hint of a smile.

"New daughter, Sir?"

"Dawn Marie Mulder, eleven weeks old, and colicky as all get out,"
Skinner elaborated.

"Sir?" Albright responded in a very confused voice.

"Albright, Dawn is my granddaughter. Mulder is married to my
stepdaughter," Skinner explained.

"Oh."

"James, aside from the fact that Mulder is totally exhausted from
working three other cases back to back, he hasn't seen the inside of
his home for one week straight for the last three months, and he's
worried shitless this is the one time he won't be able to figure out
this sonofabitch's profile. Mulder also suffers from a complete lack
of self-esteem. He doesn't realize how good he is and takes it
personally when things don't go perfectly.

"So, as much as I respect his abilities, and his professional attitude
in terms of wanting to catch the bad guy, he also needs to be
treated with kid gloves. That's one of the reasons I insisted Riichi
Obayashi accompany him to Chicago. Riichi will watch out for
him. He'll make sure he stays safe."

"I see. Very well, Sir. I will do my best to assist and support
Agent Mulder in any way I can. Oh, and Sir?" Albright began.

"Yes, SAC Albright?"

"Thanks for your candor, Sir. It does shed a great deal of light on
the situation. I really will try my best to make Agent Mulder as
comfortable as possible."

"You're welcome, Albright, and thank you for taking the time out
to find out the facts instead of relying on possible misinformation. I
appreciate that very much, and it does reflect highly on your ability
to carry out your duties as SAC."

"Well, Sir, I'd better get back to __." Albright stopped abruptly.

"Anything wrong, Albright?"

"No, Sir, I just happened to look out the window. Typical Chicago
winter. It's starting to snow like a Mother __. Umm, I mean
rather hard, Sir."

Walter laughed at this and informed Albright he was well aware of
what kind of snows Chicago was capable of producing. "Keep me
apprised, Albright," Skinner concluded and hung up the phone.

Albright replaced his receiver and looked out the window again. He
thought to himself that Mother Nature was playing one helluva a
cruel trick on them. The last thing in the world they needed was a
Chicago snowstorm in December.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder had been staring at the yellow legal pad for so long that he
was starting to hallucinate the little blue lines as tiny highway
markings. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, popping several
vertebra back into alignment. A quick glance at his watch
confirmed his suspicion. It was almost three o'clock in the
afternoon, and he was no further along than he had been at eight
that morning.

Three o'clock. Back home it was four. Four. "Shit!" he yelped.
He shot a look around the empty room. That was right, Riichi had
gone off to get more files. He'd been alone for a half an hour.

He had three hours to find a bookstore that would carry the same
little Hanukkah book he'd purchased at the boutique back home.
Not that difficult, Chicago had several temples and there was one
not that far from the Bureau office, he'd noticed that during the
cab ride from the airport.

Trouble was, he really didn't want to let everyone at the office
know that he was going out to by a pre-schooler's guide to a
religious ceremony. Not that he thought either Riichi or SAC
Albright would think less of him, but he remembered all too well his
days in VCS, when any reference to having a real life beyond the
job was met with derision. He just didn't want to put up with
that kind of bullshit anymore.

Riichi entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee. "Java break.
How's it going?"

Mulder shook his head and gratefully accepted the Styrofoam cup.
"Thanks," he muttered and stared back down at the legal pad. "It's
somewhere, Riichi. I have all the makings of a profile here," he
said, tapping his forehead. "But none of it has made it here," he
glumly tapped the paper.

"You look beat. Maybe you should go back to the hotel; catch
some z's?" Riichi suggested.

Mulder smiled to himself. He might not be ready to profile the
killer, but he had his friend's number, there was no doubt about it.
Riichi's offer was exactly what Mulder had been fishing for. "You
know, man, that's not a bad idea. I think I'll take a nap, then I'll be
back here by eight for the evening meeting. Maybe I'll even have
something useful to contribute."

"I'll get one of the agents to give you a ride," Riichi said, a little
shocked that Mulder had so readily agreed. This was not the
reaction he'd been expecting. He was tempted to take Mulder's
temperature. Or check his ID. In the end, he decided not to look
a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm taking my notes with me. I won't take the files, but I've got
most of the info I need." Mulder stuffed the legal pad into his
briefcase.

"Just remember, you're going back for a nap," Riichi said pointedly.

"Yes, mother," Mulder grinned. "See you at eight. This time, don't
let 'em get taco pizza for dinner. We should be arresting the owner
of that pizza parlor for attempted murder of Federal Agents."

"It wasn't my idea, Mulder. Believe me!" Riichi objected with eyes
twinkling. "I voted for Thai."

"That would have at least cleared my sinuses," Mulder shot over his
shoulder and was out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Try as he might, Fox Mulder couldn't help himself. Once back at
the hotel, he took out his notes and started to scribble. Some of the
ideas rushing around his head had started to congeal on the short
cab ride to the hotel. There were things about the crime scene that
he hadn't noticed in any of the reports. Items he saw in the pictures
that hadn't seemed relevant to the other officers at the scene. He
took a few minutes to write up some notes.

His eyes glanced down to his watch and then to the bed he was
sitting on. He really was exhausted. Even the hard, lonely bed of
the hotel room looked inviting after the hours he'd spent hunched over
the various reports and photos from the crime scenes. He thought
seriously about laying down, just for a few minutes, but he really
didn't have the time. Mulder was a man on a mission, and he knew
just how to go about it.

Reaching into the drawer of the night stand, Mulder found what he
needed. A nice, four inch thick phone directory. With a half smile,
he thumbed to the yellow pages and looked under the 'R's. There,
in block letters was the category 'Religious Goods' and the names
of at least fifty different retail outlets of various religious
denominations.

Sure enough, the Temple B'nai Zion, on the corner of Pratt and
Ashland Avenues, had a boutique similar to the one his own Temple
Emanuel had. Using the city guide also in the phone book, he
figured it to be either a five dollar cab ride or a nice 10 block walk
from his hotel.

"Dane, you're wearing off on me," he said aloud as he dialed the
number of the boutique. In his bachelor days, Mulder would have
just gone over to the store, not bothering to call ahead to see if
they even carried the item he wanted. But years of parenthood had
taught him well, and hanging around an organized wife hadn't hurt
his education either.

The nice woman at the boutique assured him that they did carry the
children's book in question, but he should hurry, because the store
was closing in an hour and a half. She even offered to keep a copy
aside for him, since they were now down to their last two in stock.
"It _is_ the first night of Hanukkah, tonight. And this book is one
of our biggest sellers this time of year," she chided him kindly.

Mulder had no trouble hailing a cab outside his hotel and arrived at
his destination with plenty of time to spare. He quickly paid for his
purchase, declined the paper bag, and slipped it into his overcoat
pocket. Outside, the snow that had been falling steadily since
mid-morning began to pile up on the streets. Mulder wished the
sales clerk a Happy Hanukkah and a good evening and walked out
onto the sidewalk.

As always in a Chicago snowstorm, there wasn't a taxi in sight
when Mulder reached the curb. He stood for a full five minutes,
watching the cars slip and slide on the snow and ice covered streets,
twice almost becoming drenched in slush from passing tires too
close to the curb. In disgust, and because he really didn't want to
mess with the thought of a bus transfer, he started walking back to
the hotel.

The air was cold and crisp, the snow falling just hard enough to
give the world a pristine whiteness that brought everything into
sharp relief. Though his chest and nose remained congested from
his cold, his mind cleared up enough and immediately started
unraveling the case he was working.

Young boys. Young men. All of them could easily be considered
'pretty'. Mulder had long since come to his first conclusion. The
sexual preference of the perpetrator was definitely homosexual.
There was an equal amount of evidence for pedophilia. That was
the easy part.

Each boy had gone willingly with the killer. There was no sign of
struggle, no evidence that the boys had fought their attacker.
Mulder had made note of that fact early on in the morning. Now it
was becoming clear to him, as he walked in the snow. An
authority figure.

A teacher, perhaps? A coach? But the boys were from different
areas, the killer had started in a town almost 40 miles away.
Chicago was a big city, it would be difficult for a teacher to come
into contact with boys from various parts of town. It had to be
someone else in authority.

He was about a block from his hotel when a passing car flipped a
mental switch. He did a double take and followed the car to the
corner. A Chicago police car, white, with blue checker side
detailing. The boys wouldn't have been afraid of a police officer.
They would have gone with a uniformed officer willingly, or at
least, without much of a struggle.

Mulder almost slipped as he ran toward the door of the hotel.
He had to get upstairs and put it all down on paper. It was so clear
now, he had the entire profile in his head. A cop. It was a cop.
And he had to call Albright, because Mulder was willing to bet his
last dollar that the perpetrator, the killer, was very likely one of the
members of the team assigned to catch him.

The alley was the only thing between Mulder and the door. He'd
passed the alley a dozen times in the last three days and thought
absolutely nothing of it. His mind was completely occupied with
getting all the pieces of the puzzle in sequence, writing the profile
as he hurried along the slippery sidewalk.

The last thing he saw was the bumper of the car that hit him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Adam, I think we've got a mess on our hands," Dana finally
admitted. The younger Mulder male looked at her with an
expression so like his father's she almost burst out laughing.

"Maybe we should call Gam-ma," Adam nodded solemnly. "Or
God," he suggested.

"Sweetheart, I think God has enough on His plate right now," Dana
replied,struggling to keep a similar serious face. She looked down
at the skillet and winced. "I didn't think it would be this . . ."

"Goopy?" Adam supplied quickly.

"I was going to say 'thin', but I think you're right, sprout. This is
'goopy'."

"What did you do wrong, Mommy? Didn't you read all the words?"
Adam picked up the cook book and studied the page intently.
"These are easy words, Mommy. I can read this," he added.

"Yes, well, sweetheart, I obviously missed something in the
translation," Dana said with a shake of her head. She also marveled
at the thought her five year old would think the words in the Jewish
Mother's Cookbook would be easy. Definitely was going to be
some teacher's challenge one day. She smiled, but then with a deep
sigh, Dana picked up the skillet and dumped the contents into the
garbage disposal.

"Aren't we gonna have latkes?" Adam asked plaintively. His little
face held the exact look she'd come to know in his father. The look
that had managed to get her from a geologic research station in the
Arctic Circle to a frozen ice field in Antarctica and back again. She
breathed deeply and squared her shoulders.

"Yes, Adam, we are going to have latkes. They'll just be 'Irish'
latkes," she said with determination.

Adam gave her a curious look and went off to play with his legos.
Dana started peeling another two pounds of potatoes. The phone
interrupted her, but just for a moment. Juggling the receiver to the
crook of her neck, she answered.

"Happy Hanukkah, Dana," Walter Skinner's voice brought a smile
to her face.

"Not if you see my version of 'latkes'," Dana laughed into the
phone. "You wouldn't have any idea of how to go about making
these things, would you?"

"My mother made a point of throwing us out of the kitchen at every
opportunity, Dana. Sorry," he replied. "Hey, your Mom makes
some mean potato pancakes. Why don't you just ask her for the
recipe?"

"She cheats, Walter. Mom uses day old mashed potatoes. The
cookbook calls for fresh, _grated_ potatoes."

"Dana, it's a little under an hour to sundown."

"Are you giving me permission to 'cheat', Sir," she smiled into the
phone.

"Duly granted, Agent Scully," he teased back.

"I get the feeling that's not the real reason you decided to call.
What's up?" Dana asked, shifting the phone so she could cut the
potatoes into smaller chunks and add them to the pot of water on
the stove.

"Oh, I was just . . . I mean, I was thinking about . . . and then . . ."

"You're mumbling _and_ rambling, Walter. What happened?
Spill the beans."

"I got a phone call from James Albright," Skinner admitted.

Dana closed her eyes. "He's pissed the SAC off already?" she
moaned.

"No, nothing of the sort," Skinner jumped to assure her. "As a
matter of fact, Albright called because, well, he sounded
concerned."

That got her attention. "Riichi and I have been on the phone at
least twice a day, sir," she said, reverting to her old
professionalism in the face of what she thought was an accusation
of neglect. "And I just talked to Fox himself about three hours ago.
He's a little on edge, he's got a damned cold, and he's exhausted,
but . . ."

"Scully, settle down," Skinner himself slipped into their 'old speak'.
"No one's saying anything different. Albright was concerned
because he asked Mulder for a progress report and I guess Mulder .
. ."

"Saw it as a demand instead of a request," Dana said, filling in the
blanks. "Usually when he's called in, they expect results in the first
24 hours. Forty-eight at the outside. It's been three days already."

"Albright knows how difficult this case is, Dana. He's not
expecting miracles."

"He doesn't have to, Sir. We both know Mulder is expecting them,
of himself."

"I know. Anyway, I just, well, I just wanted to let you know that
as far as I could gather from our conversation today, Albright is on
our side on this one. He's going to make sure Mulder understands
that there are limits to anyone's ability and no one is expecting him
to go beyond _his_ limits."

Dana felt like a weight had just been lifted. She smiled broadly.
"Well, gee, that's sort of a miracle in itself, Walter."

Skinner allowed himself to chuckle. "I guess I didn't see it at first,
but you might be right about that."

"I gotta go. Your granddaughter just woke up and I have to nurse
her before the potatoes boil down too far."

"Give her a kiss for Gam-pa. And Adam, too. And Dana, if you
need anything . . ."

"Thanks, Walter, but we're fine. I'll talk to you later. Give Mom a
kiss for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riichi decided he deserved to catch a couple of zzz's himself before
the 8:00 evening meeting. Besides, he knew it was never wise to
leave Mulder unattended, on his own, for more than a couple of
hours. At least, not when Mulder was supposed to be napping in a
half assed attempt to take care and rid himself of his cold.

First, Riichi stopped off in his own room to drop off his briefcase.
After removing his tie and jacket, Riichi checked the knob to the
adjoining door. Adjoining rooms were the rule of thumb whenever
he'd dealt with Mulder on a case, as he was the only other person,
besides Scully and Skinner, Mulder would trust with the knowledge
of his rather erratic sleeping patterns.

So when the knob turned easily, Riichi breathed a slight sigh of
relief as he anticipated seeing Mulder curled up in the bed sawing
logs. He heard no noise coming from the room; no shower
running, no radio, no television.

No television, which of course should have been Riichi's first clue
that something was amiss. But he didn't put two and two together
immediately, and he entered the room expecting to find his friend.

Which was why Riichi Obayashi's reaction to what he _did_ see
was quite understandable.

"SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit!! Mulder, you sonofabitch, you God
damned better not have ditched me! SHIT!" he shouted as he
moved from corner to corner in the hotel room. He saw files
spread out all over the bed, desk, and even the floor. There were
post-it notes tacked onto Mulder's laptop, as well as the edge of the
night table.

As Riichi looked at every scrap of paper which crossed his path, he
tried to piece together what the hell his lunatic colleague and friend
did. He came across an opened phone directory. Riichi took note
of the businesses and services offered on the pages, and came to
Religious Goods.

He wondered if Mulder thought their UNSUB was some kind of a
religious zealot. It would figure Mulder would make some kind of
incredible leap and seek out the means to prove his theory. "Damn
it, Mulder, all you had to do was talk to me. Damn."

He wasn't sure what to do next. Riichi realized he had to inform
people about Mulder being AWOL, and he dreaded it. Riichi was
an excellent agent, and he was well aware of the strengths he
brought to his job. However, he was also wise enough to realize
the main reason he was tapped for this assignment was to baby sit
Fox Mulder, and to make sure Mulder came out of this case in one
piece.

And he screwed up.

Riichi Obayashi was beside himself. He felt mortified he was unable
to keep track of one person. A person who was not only suffering
from a miserable cold, but from exhaustion due to lack of sleep and
adequate food intake.

Riichi knew he had to call SAC Albright and inform him of his
screw up. AD Skinner also needed to be informed.

And Dana. Riichi dreaded the idea of calling Dana Scully-Mulder
with the news her husband was out of his sight.

Riichi then reconsidered the notion Mulder was missing. Perhaps
he'd just gone for a walk in the snow? Though Mulder had a
horrendous cold, Riichi wouldn't have put it passed Mulder to go
make snow angels if he'd thought it would help clear his head and
profile the UNSUB.

Riichi decided that before he alarmed anyone needlessly, he was
going to take a walk and look for his foolish friend. Riichi tried to
smile as he worked to persuade himself Mulder was simply outside,
in Chicago during a snowstorm, being a total ass.

And Obayashi almost had himself convinced as he stalked back into
his room to retrieve his trench coat. He cursed aloud as he
shrugged back into it. "Damn, damn, damn!" he cursed aloud to no
one but the shadows on the walls. Riichi slammed the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riichi started out walking slowly as he searched every inch of the
three or four blocks north, south, east, and west of the hotel. He
figured if Mulder was going to grab some fresh air, he wouldn't feel
the need to travel too far.

As he retraced his steps again, for the third time, something shiny
caught his eye laying along the wall of the alley near the west side
of the hotel. The last remnants of the setting sun had caught a
piece of the metallic object, and Riichi had a gut feeling it was
important.

He walked over to the object, knelt and brushed some snow away
from the bulk of the object. Riichi gasped slightly as he revealed
what the object was. A gun. A Smith and Wesson, to be exact,
which was the type of gun Mulder usually carried. Riichi continued
to dig in the snow rapidly falling and drifting snow, and was
mortified to discover Mulder's leather ID badge.

Riichi knew Mulder wouldn't just drop these two items here on the
ground on purpose. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
And he had to let the people who were important to Mulder know
what was going on.

And under the fresh layer of snow was a layer spotted with blood.
Riichi had no doubt whose blood it was. He knew he'd have to get
a sample of it and reached into his pocket for one of the surgical
gloves he habitually carried around to handle evidence. He scooped
some of the stained snow into the palm of the glove and then
knotted it closed.

He picked up the other items with his clean handkerchief in case
they needed to be sent in for trace evidence. In actuality, Riichi
hoped no one else had touched them, because if they had, there was
a good chance Mulder's days were numbered.

Bad guys don't usually like to leave Feds alive and well for their
partners to find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albright picked up the phone on the third ring. He was feeling a bit
tense as he only had another hour before the eight o'clock
debriefing with the team, and he really wanted some time to
unwind.

"Albright."

"Sir, this is Agent Obayashi," he said tentatively.

"Obayashi. Is there anything breaking on our UNSUB?" he asked
hopefully. Albright couldn't help but think if they caught a break,
everyone could get home a little earlier that night.

"Not yet, Sir. Umm, I'm not calling regarding the case itself__," he
hesitated.

"What are you calling about then, Agent Obayashi?" Albright asked
more tersely than he'd planned. He was tired, like all the team was
tired.

"SAC Albright? It appears Agent Mulder is missing," Riichi finally
admitted.

"Missing?" he echoed.

"Yes, Sir. Missing." Riichi felt numb, and at this point hadn't felt
capable of speaking in more than single word phrases.

"Obayashi, what the hell are you talking about. What the hell do
you mean he's missing?" Albright practically shouted. All that ran
through his mind at the moment was the idea he couldn't keep hold
of his profilers. First an ulcer and now Mulder lived up to his
reputation and ditched his partner. Ditched his team. Damn.

"Damn! Do you have any clues as to the reason he ditched us?
Was he onto something good at least?" Albright said abruptly.

"Sir, I don't think Agent Mulder intentionally ditched us."

Albright waited to let what Obayashi had just said sink in. If
Mulder hadn't intentionally ditched the team, then __. "You think
he was kidnapped?" Albright gasped.

"Yes, Sir. I do."

"On what evidence?" Albright asked quickly.

"I found his gun and ID in the snow, Sir. I think Agent Mulder had
stepped out for some fresh air, and I believe he was taken against
his will."

"Well, is it possible Mulder could have dropped those items in the
snow?" Albright asked in desperation, though he knew the proposal
was lame even to his own ears.

"No, Sir. Mulder may lose a cell phone now and then, and he's
even been known to lose a weapon. However, he's never lost both
his gun and his ID at the same time that I know of. Oh and Sir?
There's another reason I don't believe it was mere carelessness."

"And what is that, Agent?" Albright asked wearily.

"The snow in the area I found the gun and ID was stained with
blood."

"Oh shit. Did you take a sample, Riichi?"

"Yes, Sir," was the whispered response. ''Sir? Will you call AD
Skinner?"

"Only if you call his wife," Albright responded in kind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RRRIIINNNGGG! RRRIIINNNGGG!

Dana hurried to the phone, picked it up, and breathlessly cried into
the phone, "Mulder, it's a good thing I love you, or I swear! I
would be _so_ angry with you now!"

"Dana," came the familiar, but certainly not expected, voice.

"Riichi?"

"Dana _," he choked out.

"What happened? Did the cold turn to pneumonia? You know
how susceptible he is to pneumonia, Riichi," she rambled.

"Dana, no. It's not pneumonia."

"Oh God, was he shot?"

"No! Dana, stop. Please, let me explain," Riichi pleaded. It was
hard enough for him to have taken on this task, and he wished she
would make it a little easier for him by just allowing him to speak.

"I'm sorry, Riichi. I'm sorry," she murmured. Suddenly she heard
Dawn Marie screeching again, and she quickly picked her up. The
baby was inconsolable and Dana murmured "I'm sorry" several
times to the little girl who missed her Daddy's magic shoulder.

"Dana, he's missing. I think he was jumped and abducted by
someone. I don't know if it was our UNSUB or not, but I wouldn't
be surprised. He was getting so close, Dana. So damned close.
He had it in his head, he just couldn't get it out in a cohesive written
format.

"What makes you think he was abducted, Riichi? I mean, if Mulder
was close, you know he has this tendency to go off on his own,"
Dana rationalized.

"I found his gun in the snow."

"Oh Riichi, he's always losing his gun," Dana retorted in
desperation.

"I found his ID badge."

"Oh. Well, it's possible he went jogging, and he just dropped them
in the snow." When she heard nothing but silence, she asked softly,
anxiously, "What else did you find, Riichi?"

'I found blood stains, Dana. I'm so sorry. He said he was going
back to the hotel to rest. He swore to me he was going back to nap
before tonight's meeting. I was only a couple of hours behind him.
I swear. I figured he'd be sound asleep. He was feeling like shit,
Dana. You know how he is when he gets a cold. The poor guy
takes his medicine, and it knocks him for a loop. Never seen anyone
who was so easily affected by medication as your husband," Riichi
rambled.

"Riichi, did he leave any notes about the UNSUB? Did he start the
profile?" she asked, all the while trying to calm the squalling infant
in her arms.

"Nothing formal, Dana, but he had his notes in his briefcase, and he
had post-it notes all over the files and his laptop in the hotel room.
You know, there was one other thing. The phone book was
opened to the 'R' section. Retail stores were listed for those selling
religious items. I wonder if Mulder thought our UNSUB was a
religious zealot."

Dana paused for a moment, and then remembered what was
niggling at her. "No, Riichi, that's not why he had the book
opened. He was looking for a store that sold this holiday activity
book Adam has here at home. He wanted to buy another copy so
he could call and do one of the games over the phone with us.
It's the first night of Hanukkah, Riichi."

"God, Dana, I'm so sorry. I am so damned sorry. I feel so bad. I
feel like I failed him. I failed you and the kids!" Obayashi lamented.

"No, Riichi. It's not your fault. He went out to buy the book, as
any adult should feel free to do, and some bad guy took him__.
Oh, God, Riichi. Some bad guy took him," Scully repeated in a
trembling voice.

"We'll find him, Dana. I promise you, I'll find him."

"Please, let me help somehow, okay? I mean, even if you can fax
me his notes, or something __!" pleaded Scully.

"Dana, you have the kids to take care of right now. Let me and the
team worry about Mulder," he comforted.

"Riichi, Mulder may be able to get into an UNSUB's head, but I'm
one of the few people who can get into Mulder's head. Fax me
whatever notes he left and let me help. Please. I need to feel a part
of this or I will lose it. Totally and completely,'' Dana responded
earnestly.

"I'll see what I can do," Riichi responded in kind. "But we'll find
him."

"I know, Riichi. I trust you. I know you'll find my husband."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello?" asked Maggie Skinner when she picked up the phone.

"Good evening, Ma'am. I was wondering if Assistant Director
Skinner was available?" asked the unfamiliar male voice.

"Who may I ask is calling?" she asked cautiously.

"Ma'am, my name is James Albright. I'd spoken with the AD earlier
today. I'm the SAC, the Special Agent in Charge, of a case in
Chicago."

"Oh, yes, those poor young boys. Fox, Fox Mulder is working with
you, isn't he?" Maggie asked in confirmation.

"Ma'am, if the AD is available, I _really_ need to speak with him,"
repeated James Albright a bit more desperately.

"Something's wrong." Maggie didn't need to ask. She knew.

Albright hesitated for only a second. He knew the AD would have
to tell the woman soon enough, and it seemed extra cruel to keep
the news from her any longer than necessary. Especially since he
was sure she'd already sensed something was wrong anyway.

"Yes, Ma'am. Something is wrong."

"Is he sick or hurt?"

"He may be Ma'am." Albright correctly assumed he was speaking
with the AD's wife and continued, "Your son in law is currently
missing, Mrs. Skinner."

"Ohmigod," she gasped and then uttered, "Dana!"

"Agent Obayashi is contacting Mrs. Mulder even as we speak, Mrs.
Skinner. Please, Ma'am, it's very important I speak with the AD."

"Of course, James. I'll get Walter immediately. Please hold on."
Maggie hurriedly placed the receiver down on the table and moved
quickly toward Walter's office. He'd taken a few files home with
him so he'd have the opportunity to be home by sundown to light
the candles, but still get some needed work completed.

"Walter." When he looked up and both heard and then saw the
sullen expression on his wife's face, he knew something was wrong.
He also knew it had to have something to do with his son-in-law.

"Oh God, what happened to him?"

"He's missing. Walter, he's missing," she repeated more anxiously.

"Who's on the phone? Albright?" Maggie nodded, and Walter
pushed the second button on his desk phone to gain access to
Albright's call. "Skinner. Speak."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry to inform you Agent Mulder is missing."
Albright went on to relate exactly what Riichi Obayashi had told
him, including the fact there was blood found in the vicinity of
Mulder's gun and ID badge.

"Damn it!" he cursed loudly. "How the hell could he be safely
working in the middle of the God damned Chicago office of the FBI
one minute, and kidnapped the next?! I don't understand it. Where
the hell was Obayashi? Why wasn't he with him?" Skinner asked
agitatedly.

"Sir, Agent Obayashi was finishing up some research and reports he
felt needed to be completed before he joined Agent Mulder back at
the hotel. Agent Mulder informed Agent Obayashi he was going
straight back to the hotel for a nap," Albright said in defense of his
newly acquired agent.

"And he believed him?" Skinner yelled out in disbelief. "That's the
reason I sent him out there in the first place, God damn it! He
wasn't supposed to believe him! Shit! Shit, shit, shit! All right, I'll
be on the next plane out," he concluded resignedly.

"Sir, I don't know if you'll be able to accomplish that feat. We've
got a helluva snowstorm going here."

"I'll get there. Take my cell number in case I'm held up. I will be
kept informed, Agent Albright."

"Yes, Sir."

After the AD had given Albright all of the necessary numbers and
information regarding needs for hotel accommodations, he hung up
the phone with enough force that Maggie startled.

"Walter _,'' she tried to comfort, but he reacted angrily.

"_NO! I'd sent the man to work with him to avoid just this sort of
thing from happening. DAMN IT! DAMN IT!," he cried out
clenching and unclenching his fist over and over again.

"Walter, calm down, or you'll be of no use to anyone," Maggie
urged.

"Calm down?! How the hell can I calm down. Not only do I still
have a serial murder case that needs to be solved, but I have a
missing profiler who just happens to be married to my
step-daughter!

"Oh God, Dana! We've got to call__," Walter began, but Maggie
cut him off.

"Agent Albright said Riichi was calling Dana. And Walter,"
Maggie began hesitantly, "before you get hell bent on blaming
Riichi for Fox being missing __."

This time it was Walter's turn to cut his wife off. " __ I know, I
know. It's not Riichi's fault. I'm sure Mulder got himself into this
mess all by himself. Riichi had told Albright Mulder might have
thought the killer was a religious fanatic, since he'd found the
telephone book opened to entries regarding religious items.

"Damn fool probably had one of his damned hunches and went out
to stake the bastard out," Skinner muttered.

"I'm going to call Dana," Maggie announced. "You make your
airline reservations."

As soon as Maggie left the room, Skinner punched the button
which gave him access to his business line and speed dialed the
airport. He asked for American Airlines and relayed the necessary
information.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner, but all flights to Chicago are being
rerouted due to inclement weather," replied the airline operator.

"No! That's not acceptable. I have to get to Chicago," Skinner
argued unreasonably.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but the weather is simply making flights directly into
Chicago O'hare or Midway impossible."

"It's an emergency!" Skinner pleaded.

"Sir, the flights are being rerouted to Lambert in St. Louis or
Indianapolis Airport."

"That's about five to six hours by car to Chicago, either way, but
Indy is a shorter hop," Skinner commented.

"Yes, Sir."

"I can be at the airport within the hour. Book me a seat on the next
available flight into Indy after that."

"Yes, Sir. Now, I just need some credit card information."

Skinner relayed all of the necessary information, then hung up the
phone, and rushed into the bedroom to throw together a suitcase.
He didn't know how long he'd be needed in Chicago; he prayed it
wouldn't be long at all.

He was shoving items in haphazardly, which was as strong of an
indication as to how upset the normally punctilious AD truly was
over the kidnapping of Mulder. While he attempted to ram six
dress shirts into the too small overnight case, Maggie entered the
room.

"I spoke with Dana. She wanted me to tell you something," she
spoke with tears in her eyes.

"What?"

"She said don't be angry with Riichi, and don't be angry with
Mulder. He didn't ditch anyone. He wasn't off trying to catch the
bad guys all by himself. All he wanted to do was buy duplicate
copy of the "Hanukkah Songs & Games Activity Book" Adam has
in order to do one of the games together over the phone. It was
totally innocent. Totally."

Maggie couldn't help herself. She broke down and began to cry,
but she continued to relay to Walter the conversation she'd had with
Dana. "She told me Riichi felt so horrible. He blamed himself, but
Dana told him it wasn't his fault. Dana told me to warn you not to
lay any guilt on Riichi. He's doing enough of that himself.

"Also, she told Riichi to fax her any and all of Mulder's notes. She
wants to be able to help them find him, and she figures the best way
to do that is to get to work. She can't go to Chicago with you, as
much as she'd like to, but she's still nursing Dawn. So, she'll work
from the house," Maggie informed.

"How will she be able to manage that with the kids?" Skinner asked
absently.

"She wouldn't be able to, if I weren't going over there to babysit.
Walter, if you think I'm sitting here by myself while you go off and
save the day in Chicago, and my baby girl is worrying herself to
death while reviewing horrible facts on some gruesome murders,
you're crazy!" Maggie proclaimed.

"No, you're right of course. You should go stay with her. There's
a bad storm in Chicago. I don't know how quickly I'll even be able
to get to the field office.

"Oh God, Maggie. I feel so damned helpless."

At this point, Walter didn't move. He was so afraid that at any
given moment he wouldn't be able to hold it together himself, and
he had to remain strong if he were going to find Mulder. He had to
find him for Dana and the children. He had to find him for Maggie.

Hell, he had to find Mulder for himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pain was getting worse, and he wasn't even sure why. He felt a
dull pain in his head, and a sharp, radiating pain up his leg and spine.
If he tried to move even slightly, it caused his breathing to hitch.

He tried to gain a better sense as to where he was, but the dim light
and bare surroundings did nothing to make it easier for him. He
finally closed his eyes in an attempt to find some relief from the
pain.

"Shayner boychik?" the soft voice called out. "Fox, can you hear
me?"

"Nana?" he whispered in both disbelief and in awe. Somehow
his late Nana had the ability to find him when he was feeling his lowest,
emotionally. "Nana," he repeated, "I think I need help."

"Oy, Fox, tell me when is it that you don't need some kind of help?"
she chuckled lightly.

Mulder couldn't help but smile slightly at his grandmother's remark.
She was right, of course, particularly those times he'd seen her in
her shimmering state of being. It was always in the middle of some
emotional and/or physical crisis. *Here we go again,* he thought
wryly to himself.

"Yes," she replied to his unspoken words, "here we go again."

"Does Dane know?" he asked suddenly. Mulder had been so
worried about Scully and the kids; he didn't want her to have to
worry, but he knew she wouldn't react any other way.

"Yes, she knows. Your Maggie is there with her." Upon seeing
Mulder smile at that, Nana commented, "She's a good person your
shviger, your mother-in-law. Even if she does think you're
supposed to blow out the Chanukah candles!"

"Blow out the what?" Mulder asked. "Oh God, it's Hanukkah! I'd
promised to call. Oh God, I promised. Adam must be so
disappointed," he said dejectedly.

"He was, but he's a good boy, Fox. He's a brave boy. Just like you
were at his age. Do you remember the Chanukah when you were
five years old, mine sweet aynekel?" she asked gently.

Mulder thought for a moment and then looked at his Nana's image
with saddened eyes. He nodded slightly and when she'd urged him
to remember it aloud, he said, "You had died the previous August.
Right before I went into school. I was only four when I started
kindergarten and I was so scared.

"But then you appeared to me, just like now, and you held my hand
as we walked into that huge scary building and you told me soon I
would be five years old and I would be as big as the other boys and
girls. You told me to be brave.

"I you told me you needed to rest for a while, but you would see
me again soon. It seemed like a long time to me back then, Nana,
but you did return to me. At Hanukkah. You came to Sam and me
at Hanukkah, though Sammy was still too little to really appreciate
it all.

"I remember Mom wanted to light the menorah, but Dad was being
his usual drunken bastard self and wouldn't let her. She started
yelling at him, and he yelled at her back, then she slammed her
bedroom door and locked herself in. Dad went and slammed the
door to his study, and I just sat there with Sammy and wondered
when we were going to have Hanukkah.

"Oh God, Nana. I remember! I decided to make Hanukkah myself
if Mom wasn't going to, so I found the candles and the matches.
I couldn't remember all of the prayer, but I remembered some of it,
and I struck the match, once, twice, five times. I remembering
jumping out of my skin when I'd finally lit it, and then I tried to light
the shamas candle.

"I lit the candle, but the match burned down to my fingers and I
dropped it on the floor. I was so afraid Daddy would yell at me for
making burn marks on the floor, but then I didn't care. I was
making Hanukkah for me and Sammy, even if my mom and dad
didn't care.

Mulder paused for a moment or two to catch his breath. He'd
shifted his position slightly which caused the pain to radiate and
spread up his leg and throughout his spine. He gasped slightly,
took a deep breath and continued his reminiscing.

"The shamas looked so pretty, and I remember picking it up to light
the first night's candle. Just then Dad came in. I remember
looking up at him and wondering if I'd ever seen him so angry
before. Daddy's face was all screwed up like a prune, and he began
screaming at me.

"I can't even remember what exactly it was he was screaming, but I
know it had something to do with the candle. I don't remember
what ___." Suddenly Mulder's eyes glazed over, and though he
didn't think he remembered what it was that had happened that
night, he did. In all of its technicolor horror.

"Daddy slapped my hand. Hard. And the candle knocked against
me and my shirt caught on fire. I wasn't wearing one of those kid's
fireproof pajamas; I was wearing an old tee shirt of Daddy's as my
pajamas. It lit up like a Roman Candle. I remember screaming, and
rolling around on the floor.

"He'd managed to get the shirt off of me pretty quick, and the
flames were snuffed out even quicker, but it scared the shit out of
me. I was so, so, scared, Nana. I think even Daddy was scared
about that one. He even took me to the hospital to make sure I
didn't have scars.

"I still have a couple though, under my left arm, remember Nana? I
was trying to pull at the shirt with my right hand, but my left arm kind
got stuck to the material, and that's why I got the scar there."

Mulder remembered the time and relived it over through a
five year old's eyes. There was a combination of fear and curiosity
in his gaze. "Nana, that's why I'm so afraid of fire…. It was Daddy
burning me at Hanukkah, not my friend Danny's house burning
down. Damn."

The youthful eyes became old again as the pain of his current
condition seeped through the memories. "Oh, shit, this hurts."

"I know sweetheart, I know. But everyone is praying for you;
your veib, your Dana, and your beauty-ful zun, Adam. They're
going to find you sweet Foxila, but you have to be strong. You
have to be brave."

But the pain became just too much at this point, and though Mulder
was of the mind to be brave and fight, his body had to give in
immediately. He passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana Scully sat staring at the phone. "Ring, damn you. Just ring."
Instead, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it, I'll get it," Adam shouted and ran for the door before
Dana had a chance to get there. He peeked out of the curtains at
the side and squealed with delight.

"Gam-ma, Gam-ma!" He hurriedly opened the door and grabbed
his grandmother around the knees. "Gam-ma, we had latkes.
There's some left, for Daddy. You want one? And Mommy
said when Daddy calls we're gonna read from the new book he got
me and light the candles and sing songs in Hebrew, like when Dawn
was born. Where's Gam-pa?" he finally slowed down enough to
notice a familiar male presence was missing.

Maggie knelt down to her grandson's level and plastered a smile on
her face. "Grandpa had to go to work for a while, Sweetie. He sent
this, though," and she gave the boy a fierce hug. "I'm so happy
you're having a good time tonight. Say, would you please put
Grandma's coat in the hall closet for me? And where is baby
Dawn? Is she asleep?"

Adam took the coat and screwed up his face. "She _never_ sleeps,
Gam-ma. She 'catnaps'. Mommy has her in the bouncy seat in the
dining room. We're waiting for Daddy to call. Uncle Riichi called,
but Daddy hasn't called yet. I'm watching a movie till he calls."

Maggie saw the opportunity and took it. "Well, why don't you go
finish your movie. I'll go see how your Mommy did with the
latkes." Happily, the little boy scurried off for the family room, and
Maggie looked up to see Dana standing in the archway to the
dining room. The look on her face told Maggie everything. She'd
seen that look on her daughter before, many times, and it never got
easier to see. It took everything in her power not to run to her
little girl and take her in her arms. But she wasn't sure how that
would be received.

Dana answered the question by making the first move. "Mom," she
said with a tremor in her voice and took the two steps to wrap her
arms around her mother. "Mom, they f-f-found b-b-blood. . ."

"I know, baby, I know. Walter's on his way to the airport right
now. There's a horrible snowstorm in Chicago, so he'll have to
drive from Indianapolis. He won't be there till morning, but he'll
call us the minute he's there." She rubbed Dana's back in slow
circles as she felt the tears fall on her shoulder. "They'll find him,
sweetheart. He's going to be fine, I know it."

"I hope so, Mom. Oh, God, if I were to lose him now . . ."
Although her tears were silent, she shuddered against her mother's
shoulders. "I can't lose him now. Please, please let us find him."

Maggie held Dana for a long time. Finally, the tears subsided and
Maggie took that as her cue. "Come on. Let's get some tea
started."

Just then Adam came bounding into the room. "Movie's over,
Mommy. Can we light the candles now?" he asked excitedly.
"Daddy was s'posed to call when the microwave said seven - oh -
oh. It's already nine - one - five." He pouted his lips and tapped his
foot with a serious expression. "He's late again, Mommy," he said
pointedly.

Maggie bit her lip and struggled not to smile a little. The tiny boy
looked so much like his father. But at that moment, matters were
just too dire. She watched as Dana squared her shoulders and bent
down to pick the boy up.

Even though he was only five, he was over half as tall as Dana. His
legs dangled past her knees. She walked over to the nearest chair
and sat with him on her lap.

"Mommy needs to talk to you, Adam," she said, searching for
words that would make him understand what was happening, but
not frighten him in the process.

"Is Daddy hurt, Mommy?" the little boy asked, his eyes large with
fear.

Dana bit her lip. He was so little yet, and he knew far more than he
should about the world and people hurting. She wished more than
anything to protect him from this part of her work, her husband's
work. But she also knew that was impossible.

"We don't know right now, Sweetheart. Daddy . . . Daddy wasn't
at the hotel when Uncle Riichi went back to the room this evening."

"Maybe he went running. Were his running shoes gone?" Adam
asked brightly.

"No, baby. His running shoes were there, in the closet. There's a
big storm in Chicago, lots of snow. Daddy doesn't usually run in
the snow."

"He slips too much. He hurt his ankle that one time and you yelled
at him," Adam reminded her.

"Yes, yes I did," Dana replied and it felt like a knife in her heart.

"Where did he go?" Adam asked, bringing her back from her
thoughts.

"We don't know, baby. But Daddy had wanted to light the candles
with us, over the phone."

"Did somebody bad get him? Somebody Daddy is trying to catch?"

"We don't know that, either, Sweetheart. But Gam-pa is on his
way to Chicago right now to help look for your Daddy and Uncle
Riichi and all the agents are looking for him right now. I just
wanted you to know that Daddy didn't forget about us tonight."

Adam nodded, then pushed himself off Dana's lap. He grabbed her
hand and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon, Mommy. I wanna go light
the candles. All the candles, your candles and Daddy's candles. All
of them." He tugged and tugged to get her toward the dining
room.

"Adam, Mommy really isn't in the mood right now," Dana
protested, but the little boy would not be deterred.

"Mommy, we gotta light the candles. All of the candles."

"Adam, it's not time to light all of the candles. Remember, one
candle for each night. Just like with Mommy's candles. One each
week. Remember?" she asked, stumbling after her young son and
trying desperately to keep the tears from taking hold of her.

"No, Mommy, don't you remember? Like Gam-ma does in church
when she prays for Grandpa Bill or Aunt Missy or when she's
worried about Uncle Bill or Uncle Charlie? We have to light the
candles so that God will know we're looking for Daddy. God will
help him come home," he stated emphatically.

Dana swallowed the tears she felt and with a shaking hand, reached
for the lighter. Quietly, she lit the three candles on the wooden
Advent Wreath, two purple and the one pink, then she lit the server
candle in the middle of the menorah and stepped aside so that
Adam could reach up and use the candle to light the first candle on
the right side.

When he started to light the next one, Dana touched his hand. "No,
Sweetheart. God will figure it out," she said softly. "Let's just say
a little silent prayer that God will be with Daddy tonight and bring
him home safely to us as soon as possible."

Adam nodded and bowed his little head. Dana hoped he wouldn't
notice the tracks of the tears that fell silently while she prayed.

"OK, Sprout," she said with a little more hope in her heart. "It's
time for bed."

"Can I watch the lights for a minute, Mommy? Please, just for a
minute?" he begged.

Dana sighed and smiled at him. "Sweetheart, it's so late. I don't
think __." Dana cocked her head for an instant. "Uh-oh, I think
your sister is insulted we didn't include her in the candle lighting."

"Sweetheart," Maggie interjected, "why don 't you go check on
Dawn, while I go make that tea." Maggie nodded encouragingly.
She'd sensed that Adam, even as young as he was, needed some
time on his own to try and assimilate everything he was told
tonight.

"Go on Dana. I'll be right in the next room. Go feed your
daughter," and then turning to Adam said, "and you, young man,
may watch the lights for a few minutes. But then we'll blow them
out when it's time for bed," said Maggie.

"No! You can't blow out the Hanukkah candles. It's not like a
birthday cake, Gam-ma. You're supposed to let 'em burn out on
their own."

Maggie looked at her daughter for confirmation, and upon seeing
Dana nodding with a small smile on her face, Maggie looked at her
bright, handsome grandson and said, "Okay. You win. We let the
candles burn down on their own. But if they're not out before we
tell you it's bedtime, you go anyway, kiddo!" she said firmly.

He nodded happily and settled on a chair at the table where he
could look at the candlelight just a few feet away. Maggie kissed
his head and quietly moved into the kitchen to prepare the tea.

Dana knelt down by her son, kissed him gently on the cheek, and
said, "I'm so proud of you Adam Mulder. You are so smart and so
brave, and I love you so much." She kissed him once more and
then left to attend her infant daughter.

Adam sat mesmerized by the last remnants of the glowing candles.
He'd promised Mommy he would simply sit and watch; he'd never
touch the fire on the pretty colored candles while Mommy went to
take care of baby Dawn.

But it was so tempting. The candles were getting smaller and
smaller, and his chances to touch the dancing candles were
diminishing just as quickly. He kept his gaze directly on the
candles as he slowly reached out to feel the flame.

SLAP!

"Ouch!" cried out the young boy as he rubbed his hand to take
away the sting. He looked around him and stiffened slightly when
he realized he was still all alone.

"Hello?" he whispered in a tone mixed equally with fear and
curiosity. Adam was definitely his parents' child.

"Happy Chanukah, mine shayner ur-aynekel," greeted the accented
voice laced with love.

"Who's there?" asked Adam in awe.

"It's Nana, shayner boychikel."

"Nana? Daddy's Nana?" asked the youngster.

"Nu? Who else? But I'm your Nana too, Adam. Don't you forget
that sweet boy," she answered seriously.

"You hit me." Adam stated it as a fact, and not as a question.

"Hit you? Shaaw! A love tap, that's all. Adam, you were going to
do something dangerous. I didn't want to see mine sweet
ur-aynekel hurt himself," she explained.

"Oh. I was going to be careful," Adam defended.

"No, my precious boy. You can never be too careful with fire.
Fire is not something you should ever think you can be careful with.
Ask your Daddy about how dangerous fire can be. He'll tell you
sweetheart," Nana urged.

"Daddy's not even here. He had to go away to do his stupid work,
and he didn't even call us to light the candles," the child retorted
petulantly.

"Oy, Adam. Since when is finding very bad people and putting
them in jail 'stupid work'?" Adam looked up at his now visible
Nana and startled slightly.

"Nana?"

"Yes, sweet boy. It's me."

"I __, I miss my daddy, Nana. He's never here no more, and I miss
him. Mommy can't play with me 'cause all Baby Dawn does is eat
and cry, so Mommy has to keep picking her up and saying 'sha, sha,
sha.' But it doesn't help. The only one Baby Dawn shuts up for is
Daddy. Mommy says Daddy's shoulder is magic 'cause Dawnie
always stops crying when he holds her.

"I miss Daddy, Nana. I want him to come home. Now. Why
doesn't he come home now, Nana?" asked the little boy plaintively.

"Oh shayner boychikel, he wants to come home to you, and Dawn
and your Mommy. But he can't right now, Sweetheart. He has
important work to do, to catch this bad man. But Sweetheart, Nana
thinks your daddy needs your help." Nana paused for a moment or
two. She didn't want to frighten the child needlessly, but she did
want to convey how serious what she was about to say was.

"Adam, your daddy needs you to pray for him. Do you think you
can do that, shanyer ur-aynekel? Can you pray to God and ask Him
to help your daddy do what he needs to do to come home?" she
asked earnestly.

The five year old looked at the shimmering image of his great
grandmother with great seriousness. His expression reminded Nana
so much of her Foxila when he was Adam's age. The child's face
was a mixture of determination and questions. Always the
questions!

"Nana, should Mommy say prayers for Daddy too?"

"Yes, sweet boy. I think that would be a good thing."

''What about Gam-ma Maggie? She's here now, and she could pray
too. Would that be good?"

"Of course it would be!" Nana was delighted the child took her
instructions so much to heart. He was a good boy. A mensch.
Just like his father. But he was also a curious one. Just like his
father.

"But, Nana, why? Why do we have to pray for Daddy?" Adam
asked in all solemnity.

"Because he needs you, sweet boy. Can you understand that? Just
because he needs you," Nana replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie came into the dining room and found Adam staring not at
the candles, but at the wall just to the right of the breakfront.
"Sweetheart?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. "What
is it, Adam?"

Adam looked at his grandmother curiously and then at the now
quite empty space again.

"Oh, nothing. It was just Nana." Before Maggie had a chance to
respond to this announcement, he was pulling on her sleeve. "The
candles burned out, Gam-ma. Let's blow out Mommy's candles,
and you can tuck me in."

Maggie was a little taken back by her grandson's sudden desire to
go to bed but was never one to question such good fortune. She
helped him drag a chair up to the breakfront, so he could blow out
the Advent candles. She then made sure the candles in the menorah
had indeed extinguished themselves, and, together, they pushed the
chair back.

Tiptoeing upstairs, Maggie could hear Dana quietly humming to the
baby in the nursery. At least Dana wasn't having problems nursing
Dawn with all the emotional upheaval of the night. But then, her
daughter was strong and had been through so much already. Too
much, Maggie thought to herself.

They entered Adam's room. His bed, which Fox had picked out for
the boy for his fourth birthday, was a race car painted blue. But the
wallpaper was new, since they'd only moved into their new house a
couple of weeks after Dawn was born. The walls exploded with
bright primary colors.

Sports merchandise from almost every team was scattered on the
bookcase and the dresser. More of his father's influence, Maggie
was certain. Adam went into his closet, exhibiting his newfound
desire for privacy and changed into a pair of New York Knicks
pajamas.

Definitely his father's influence, Maggie smiled to herself.

Maggie pulled the comforter down on the bed and fluffed the
pillow. Surprised again at her grandson's behavior, Maggie
watched as the small boy knelt down next to the bed. No pleading
for a story, no request for a glass of water. He was all business
tonight. He made the sign of the cross, as Dana had taught him,
and recited his prayers out loud.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Bless me God, all through the night, and wake me with the morning
light." He was quiet a moment, and Maggie wondered what could
be going through his head. Suddenly, he looked up at
her and in a very determined voice said, "Gam-ma, we need to pray
for Daddy. We need to pray that Daddy can get the bad man, so
that he can come home to us. We have to pray, all of us."

Maggie was so struck with his conviction that it took her breath
away. She felt speechless, but she nodded.

Adam stared at her, and finally she understood he was waiting for
her. Swallowing hard, she folded her hands and bowed her head.
Adam seemed content with her actions and started again. "God,
Mommy is really scared. She didn't tell me, but I could tell. And
I'm scared, too. But I know you will take care of my Daddy. So
please help him. Help him get this man who is hurting people. And
then bring him back to us, to Mommy and me and Dawn and
Gam-ma and Gam-pa and Grandma Bette. Amen."

"Amen," Maggie whispered. "Amen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Maggie had checked Adam's night light, she threw him one
more kiss, and then shut the door. She found Dana in the kitchen
with Dawn on her shoulder.

"She won't sleep?" asked Maggie.

"No. She's got a gas bubble that is causing her little belly to be so
hard and distended, I wouldn't dare try to lay her down now. Leslie
keeps telling me this too shall pass, but there are moments when I
think this child is going to walk down her wedding aisle with gas
pains," lamented Dana.

"I know the feeling," agreed Maggie. "It's a wonder I had more
children after Missy. She was impossibly colicky."

Dana smiled at her mother and said, "Well, personally, I'm very glad
you decided to go for it." Maggie chuckled in response and readily
agreed. "Did Adam give you any trouble going to bed? I half
expected to have to read the riot act to him," asked Dana.

"No, sweetheart. In fact, he was a perfect angel," Maggie said, and
then muttered to herself, "Almost too perfect."

"What was that, Mom?"

"Dana, I think Adam had a visitor tonight."

"A visitor," Dana echoed as she sniffed the peppermint tea in an
effort to calm her nerves.

"I think Nana appeared to Adam," she answered softly.

"Nana?" Dana looked up from the tea cup. "Nana was here?"

"I think so. Adam told me he, no _we_, had to pray for his daddy.
I suspect Nana had something to do with that, don't you?" asked
Maggie.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Oh God, Mom, Nana's only come when __. We
have to find him, Mom. We have to find him fast. Oh God, he's in
trouble, Mom," gasped Dana.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riichi Obayashi stood silently waiting for the SAC to finish his phone
conversation. All he could hear was Albright's side of things, but
from where it stood, it was not good news being conveyed.

"Well, we'll be in touch," Albright said and hung up the receiver.
He looked up at Obayashi. "You better have good news, Riichi.
I can't take any more bad news tonight."

In the short time Riichi had known the SAC, he knew not to take his
words too much to heart. "I just wanted to let you know that two
of Chicago's finest have arrived. Detectives Randall and Tripp.
They work out of this precinct and have been assigned to assist
us in the search for Agent Mulder. In any way possible."

Albright was shuffling through some papers on his desk.
"Randal and Tripp? They were originally on the task force,
weren't they?"

Riichi nodded. "Mulder and I met them at the first briefing the
night we arrived. Then they were called back to the precinct on
an older outstanding murder investigation. Apparently, the possible
abduction of a Federal Agent ranks higher than three year old
unsolved murder cases in these parts," Riichi said with a sour
expression.

"Do I sense you have some negative feelings here, Obayashi?"
Albright asked.

"No sir, not really. Well, no more than normal. I just think
these two are a little too 'parochial' for their own good. I
don't know how well they did in 'sandbox and playground' detail
in grade school."

"Not willing to share information?" Albright prodded.

"Not at all. We're pretty certain that there was at least one
CTA bus which runs along the street outside the hotel, but CPD
says they will handle those interviews. They won't let us near
them and the bus company says they gave all the information on
the drivers to the CPD. It's a catch-22, Sir," Riichi growled.

Albright sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "We're the
FBI for cripes sakes," he muttered under his breath. "What do
we need, a note from Janet Reno?" He looked up and realized the
agent was still in the room. "See if the 'good detectives' might
be able to spare a moment of their time with me, Agent Obayashi,"
Albright asked in formal tones.

Riichi smiled. It was time to pull out the heavy artillery.
"It would be my pleasure, Sir," he said. As he turned to leave
the room, his eye caught the clock on the wall. It was a quarter
to three in the morning. He'd last seen Mulder almost 12 hours
previous. An agent had been missing for twelve hours already.
Not just an agent. A friend. He blew out his breath and went
down the hall to the command center.

"Riichi, we got something!" Special Agent Dale Jensen waved a piece
of paper in the air.

"Talk to me," Riichi said, trying hard to take in enough air.
*God, I have to calm down or I won't be any help at all to Mulder,*
he chided himself.

"A cab driver just called in a while ago. He works the four to
midnight shift in the Loop. Anyway, he saw the picture of Mulder
we faxed over to the cab company and says he picked up a fare
matching Mulder's picture about four thirty this afternoon. Took
him to a Jewish bookstore next to the Temple B'nai Zion in Rodgers
Park."

"That jives with what Agent Scully told me earlier," Riichi said,
taking the sheet which held the driver's name and phone number.
"Can the driver come in, answer some questions?"

"The two Chicago cops are 'interviewing' him as we speak," Jensen
said with a dubious look.

Riichi rolled his eyes. "Please tell me they're doing it somewhere
here. Somewhere I can 'listen in'?"

"Wish granted. I told them to use the conference room down the hall.
The one that the inside lock on the door is frozen," Jensen said with
a conspiratorial grin. Obayashi matched the grin and patted the other
agent's back. "You're a good man, Jensen. I think I owe
you a beer."

Riichi knocked on the door, but didn't bother to wait for a response
before entering. Both detectives looked up immediately and Riichi
noted with satisfaction that one of them stared pointedly at the
lock on the door. The FBI agent smiled to himself, and turned his
attention to the cab driver.

"Mr. Riley, how are you this evening. I'm Special Agent Riichi
Obayashi. As you know, we are concerned with the disappearance
of a fellow FBI agent. I wondered if you would mind my listening
in on this session, it might save us some time."

Jeff Randal, a tall thin man with a growing bald spot, frowned
and crossed his arms. "We were doing just fine, Agent Obi-Wan,"
he said with a sneer.

"That's Agent Obayashi, and I'm sure you were. But since Mr.
Riley here is a witness to a possible kidnapping, or at least
has some knowledge of events leading to said crime, it is well
within my jurisdiction as a federal agent to be present. Oh,
and my Agent in Charge would like a word with you two gentleman.
At your earliest convenience."

Mr. Riley, an older man with a graying mop of hair and the map
of Ireland on his face, smiled brightly at the young agent. "I
like you, kid. You got spunk," he laughed good naturedly. "As
I was just telling the 'boy-os' here, I picked up that fare
outside the hotel about 4:30. I know it was 4:30 because the
news at the bottom of the hour had just come on. I was waiting
for Sandy Reyos at 5. She has the best talk show . . ."

"I'm sure she does, Mr. Riley," Andrew Tripp said impatiently.
"But could you get back to the description of your fare?"

Riley frowned, but nodded. "Description? He was tall, near
six feet. Dressed nice. Charcoal gray suit, black overcoat.
Weird tie. Wasn't wearing rubbers, nor a hat of any kind which
is probably why he was hailing a cab for a ten block walk.
Didn't talk much.

He gave me the name of the bookstore and started to give the
address, but I told him that's my old neighborhood and I knew
the place right off. When I pulled up outside, I wished him a
Happy Hanukkah and he gave me a three dollar tip."

Tripp looked over to Obayashi. "That's sounds like Mulder,"
he said and leaned back. "Can you tell us anything else?
Anything at all?"

Riley furrowed his brow for a moment. "He had a nasty cold.
Sneezed a couple of times in a row. Ran out of Kleenex so I
gave him some from the box I keep up front with me. Keeps
the kids from wiping their snot on my seats, you know."

Tripp grimaced and nodded, then turned to Obayashi. "Does
Mulder have a cold?"

Riichi sighed. "A monster one. That's why he was back at
the hotel. He was supposed to be resting before the evening
briefing." Then, Riichi thought of something else. He reached
into his wallet and pulled out a picture. It was taken the day
of Mulder and Scully's wedding. He and Mashiko were standing
next to Dana and Fox. "Is this the man you had in your cab,
Mr. Riley?"

The older man held the picture at arms length. "That's him."
He handed the picture back to the Agent. "Pretty little thing
next to him. She's Irish, isn't she?"

"Yes sir," Riichi said, putting the picture back in his wallet.
"That's his wife, Dana. Dana Scully. She's an FBI agent, too."

"They have young ones?" Riley asked innocently.

"Two. A boy just turned five and a new baby girl."

Riley closed his eyes and shook his head. "I hope you find him,
son. It's a big city and there are a lot of bad people out there."

Riichi's throat constricted and it was hard to force out the words.
"I hope so, too, Sir. He's a good man. He deserves to be home
with his family." He stuck his hand out and warmly shook the older
man's hand. "Thank you for all your help, Mr. Riley. If you think
of anything else . . ." Riichi handed the man one of his business
cards.

"I'll call you right off," Mr. Riley assured him. He took the card
and carefully placed it in his own wallet. "Good day to you, then,"
he said and with a look to the two detectives, left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riichi turned his gaze to the two detectives. "If you gentlemen
have the time, my AIC would like a word with you," he said firmly
and nodded toward the door.

Both men shared a look and a shrug and followed Riichi down the
hall to Albright's office. As much as Riichi wanted to stay in the
hallway and listen to the fireworks, he had other matters to attend
to at that moment. He reluctantly walked down the hall, all the
time keeping an ear out for Albright's voice. By the time he was
closing the door on the command center, Albright's raised voice
was booming through the hallway. Riichi smiled and got back to
work.

Several hours later, Jensen was again at his shoulder. "Blood we
found is a match," Jensen with a sullen expression. "There wasn't
enough to determine if it's life threatening. And no bone or . . .
other matter," he swallowed hard. "No hospitals report treating a
John Doe matching Mulder's description. We combed the alley, no
bullets or cartridges found. No reports of a gunshot, not even of a
car backfiring. Of course, they could have used a silencer."

Riichi shook his head emphatically. "Let's not go buying trouble.
Stick to the evidence we have. It's reasonable to believe at this
point that Agent Mulder left the bookstore and came back to the
hotel, but didn't get all the way there. It's also reasonable to
assume that he was injured and taken against his will."

Riichi got up and walked over to the wall where a map of the city
was taped on a bulletin board. "He left here, took a cab to here,"
he said, pointing with his pen at the location of the bookstore. He
stopped and stared for a moment. "How did he get back? And
what time was it when he made it to the alley?"

Jensen glanced at his watch. "It's four in the morning, Obayashi.
Do you want me to roust the poor sales clerk out at this hour?"

"No, of course not. We'll have to wait until later this morning. I
want to go down there and talk to the clerk as soon as the store
opens." He stopped talking when Agent Watson walked up to
them. "What's up?"

Watson handed them a piece of paper and shook her head. "They
found another body. Another boy."

"Damn it," Riichi said. "We just can't get a break tonight, can we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight into Indianapolis took around two hours. The storm was
running north of Indiana, so Skinner's flight hadn't been affected,
and Skinner was relieved to see he'd be able to get an immediate
start to Chicago. When he arrived at the car rental desk, he found
his luxury size car was waiting for him.

"Good, I thought there might be a problem getting the car I wanted
what with the holidays and all," he said in relief.

"Oh, we've had several cancellations, Mr. Skinner," replied the
clerk. "Whenever there's bad weather on its way, people tend to
take limos or taxis rather than drive themselves in a strange city."

"When's it supposed to arrive? The bad weather, that is."

"Oh, within the next few hours," was her reply. "Just sign here, Mr.
Skinner, and then you can take the shuttle to your car." Skinner
signed the necessary forms, got on the shuttle, and found his car.

It was a Crown Victoria, and certainly more luxurious than he was
used to driving. However, given the precarious weather situation,
Skinner refused to begrudge himself this bit of indulgence. He
became acquainted with the inner workings of the dashboard, found
a radio station to his liking, and then pulled out his cellular. He
dialed speed dial number 2.

"Hello? Mulder residence."

"Maggie, it's Walter."

"Walter! It's good to hear your voice. Where are you?"

"I've just gotten myself comfortable in my rental. God, Maggie,
we've got to think about leasing one of these. There's enough leg
room even for me." He heard his wife's light murmur of
acknowledgment but could tell she was in no mood for
light-hearted bantering.

"Is it snowing there?" Maggie asked.

"No, not yet. I was told they're expecting the storm to hit within
the next few hours, but I'll hopefully have enough of a head start on
it in order to make it to Chicago in good time." He paused for a
moment and then asked with concern, "How's Dana holding up?"

"She's __, well I guess you could say she's in a holding pattern.
She's waiting for Riichi to fax her some of Fox's notes. Dana thinks
she might be of some help in interpreting what Fox had begun
putting together.

"Apparently he didn't have the profile written yet, but Riichi said he
had enough notes and post-its laying about to write ten profiles.
Dana thinks she's the one with the best shot of figuring out what
direction Fox was heading towards," Maggie explained.

"Well, we know Mulder's able to get into the mind of just about any
lunatic. I suppose the only one who could get into Mulder's mind
would be Dana," agreed Skinner.

"I know, but I'm just worried Dana's trying to take on too much. I
mean, there's really no way of knowing how far Fox got in
figuring out who this __, now what did she call it? All I can think
of is submarine, but I know that's not right!" she answered in a
frustrated tone.

"UNSUB. You mean an UNSUB."

"UNSUB," Maggie echoed. "Yes, that's it."

"Sweetheart, are you okay? Maybe I shouldn't have left__," he
trailed.

"__ Walter, don't be ridiculous! I'm fine, and Dana will be fine. We
all have our jobs to do. Mine is to watch our grandchildren while
Dana tries to profile this UNSUB. Yours is to go find Fox. Just do
what you do best, and find him. Please, Walter, find our son."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skinner drove out of Indianapolis on I-70 and then west onto I-74
for about seven miles. He then continued on I-65 for about an hour
under overcast skies, but no snowflakes fell. At least not until he
came to the I-80 Junction.

Then, without warning, the skies opened up as he crossed the
Illinois border. He needed to travel on I-80 for only fifteen miles or
so, but Skinner had a feeling those fifteen miles would be some of
the longest of his life.

The AD couldn't believe how quickly the roads became impossible
to maneuver on. The big car was soon losing any advantage its size
and weight had as the roads became icier and more slippery.
Skinner continued to drive, but he was becoming more and more
tempted to make a stop in one of the several motels he'd seen
advertised on passing billboards.

Suddenly, the car swerved sideways! Walter automatically grabbed
the wheel, but he had to consciously remind himself to turn into the
skid. He knew the car was equipped with anti-lock breaks, but they
sure as hell weren't gripping on ice. Walter's heart raced, and his
pulse quickened, as he grasped the steering wheel with white
knuckled strength.

Skinner felt as though he were in an old, silent movie where sound
was muffled and movements were in slow motion and predictable.
The AD knew immediately the car was out of his control, and
though he could sense what was going to happen, Walter was
helpless to prevent it. He was traveling less than fifteen miles per
hour, but as slow as it was, Skinner knew he needed to brace
himself for impact.

The car skidded straight into one of the tall, steel lamp posts which
lit up that particular stretch of the interstate. As he made contact
with the light pole, he felt his eyeglasses fly off his face, and his
seat belt tug tautly about him. Next, he heard the whoosh of the
airbag which exploded into his face. Finally, Skinner heard the
audible crunch of the car's hood collapsing in front of him, while at
the same time he heard the thud of the light pole fall, unbelievably,
straight across the road.

Skinner remained absolutely still and did not move for several
minutes. The shock of how quickly he'd lost control of the vehicle
slowly set in. He slowly raised his head up and turned it to make
sure he didn't suffer from whiplash. Walter then stretched out his
arms and legs as best he could to test for any possible injuries.
When he determined he wasn't physically hurt in any way, he
unclipped his safety belt and felt around for his glasses. After
several seconds of groping around, he found them and, much to his
relief, discovered they were unbroken. He opened the door,
stepped out, and surveyed the damage.

The snow was falling heavily around him as he walked up to the
front end of the car. He was somewhat startled to see there was a
rather steep drop off beyond the flimsy railing on the other side of
the lamp base. Walter realized with a shock that, had the car not hit
the light pole, he would have more than likely plunged over the
side. He felt his whole body tremor at the thought of that, and
retreated a few steps to safer ground.

As the snow continued to accumulate, the AD realized the chances
of getting a tow truck out to immediately assist him in this weather
ranged from zero to none. He did, however, realize he was not in
the safest of situations, and needed to make a call to let people
know where he was. He felt his hands tremble as he reached into
his pocket for his cell phone and dialed the Triple A auto service to
which he was a member. He gave the information to the operator
and was told there was approximately a three hour wait.

Skinner stood frustrated by the thought of being so close to the
Chicago field office, yet obviously not close enough to do anything
helpful to find Mulder. When he called the field office and spoke
with one of the agents on duty, he was told they'd found another
body and Agents Obayashi and Albright weren't available at this
time. He explained to the underling his situation, and requested
assistance anytime anyone was available. If there was a change in
his status, Skinner would call back the office.

Next he called Maggie and Dana. He knew they would both be
worried about him being in an accident, but he also knew they
would be just as disappointed that he was unable to get to the office
any sooner. As he spoke to Maggie and gave her the details of the
accident, Walter gasped when he witnessed the inevitable.

"Ohmigod!"

"Walter! What's wrong?" cried out Maggie anxiously.

"It jumped the pole," he whispered in awe.

"What jumped what pole?" Maggie asked in confusion.

"The car. The car just jumped the light pole that is laying across
the interstate," Walter relayed with some anxiety. "God, Maggie,
somebody's gonna get killed. The snow is falling so damned fast,
it's camouflaging the light pole. The cars are just driving right over
it and ending up in the air. Damn! This is unbelievable!" he
gasped.

Just then a black, four wheel drive vehicle slowly pulled over in
back of Walter's crumpled car. Inside were a young man and
woman, either in their late teens or early twenties. The young man,
who was driving, called out to Walter.

"Hi, you look like you could use some help."

"Well, I could actually use a ride into the city. You're not by any
chance going into Chicago, are you?" Skinner asked hopefully, and
not just because he wanted to get to work on the case. It was
damned cold, and he was starting to shiver from the freezing
temperatures, frigid air, and damp snow that fell about him.

"No problem. I live in Chicago, but my girlfriend lives in Addison.
If you don't mind a short detour, I can drop you off anywhere you
want in Chicago."

"No, I don't mind at all. Thank you. I mean, I really appreciate
this. Do you have room for a travel bag and brief case in there?"
Skinner asked.

The young man nodded and said, "No problem," and watched while
Skinner leaned over to reach in for his bags. As he bent over,
however, his weapon became visible.

"Oh God! Eric! Look!" cried out the young lady.

"Hey, Mister," the young man began somewhat nervously, "listen,
we don't want any trouble, so maybe you should find another ride.
Okay?"

Skinner was baffled by the sudden discomfort the two young people
displayed, and asked, "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Look, I think we gotta get going__," the younger man said as he
started to put the car into gear. Just then, Walter realized what had
happened and whipped out his FBI identification.

"Wait. It's okay. I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner from the
Washington office of the FBI. I'm on my way to the Chicago field
office to work on a case. I'm sorry. I should have identified myself
immediately. I didn't mean to scare you with my weapon."

"FBI?" the girl asked.

"Yes. FBI."

Both young people breathed an audible sigh of relief and invited the
AD to climb into the back. The AD then excused himself to make
several phone calls to update his wife and the field office of his
impending arrival, as well as the Triple A and the need for them to
tow the car to the nearest Hertz Rental Agency. He would contact
the agency at his earliest convenience.

Finally, Walter settled in the back and reintroduced himself.

"I'm Eric Barton, and this is Alana Martin. We both go to the
Eastern Illinois University, but we're on Winter break now. You
sure lucked out having to come out in this weather. Funny thing is,
it'd been a real mild winter so far. This is the first big storm of the
season, which for Chicago is late."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately the bad guys don't seem to mind bad
weather," replied Skinner.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what case is it that would bring
an Assistant Director into Chicago, days before Christmas, all the
way from Washington, DC?" asked Eric.

"Well," Skinner hedged for but a minute, "it's public knowledge.
The local office has been working on several murder cases that
seemed to be tied together. Young teenage boys, adolescents."

"Ohmigod!" cried out Alana.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked anxiously.

"Well, it's just that I know one of the boys that was killed. I mean,
I knew him. My mom had called a couple of weeks ago all upset
because of it. She didn't want to let Tommy out of the house
because of it. The boy that was killed went to school with my kid
brother," she said breathlessly.

"How old was he?" Skinner asked with interest.

"Fifteen. It was a real shame, you know? I mean Kevin, that was
his name, Kevin Jenkins, well, Kevin was a decent kid. I mean it
wasn't like he was best friends with my brother or anything," she
said quickly. "Hell, he didn't have any really best friend. At least
not that I know of, but he was an okay kid. He didn't bother
anybody. He didn't make a big deal of it."

"Big deal of what, Alana?" Skinner asked curiously.

"Oh. Of being gay. I mean, he never came right out and said it,
you know? But everyone pretty much knew it. And everyone was
pretty okay with it, I mean Kevin didn't flaunt it or anything. He
was an okay kid. But he was pretty much of a loner. I guess
maybe he didn't have too many friends," Alana mused aloud.

"Do you think he was a troubled kid?" Skinner asked.

"Troubled?" she reflected. "If you're asking did he ever get into
trouble, no, I don't think he ever did. But he was really quiet. He
was kind of like the kid who was always on the outside looking in,
ya know?"

"Is there anything else you can tell me about him, Alana? Anything
at all? It might help us find out why he was targeted by the killer,"
Skinner urged.

"And that might help you figure out who the killer is," Eric
conjectured. "See, I watch NYPD Blue."

Skinner smiled at the casual remark, but the fact was it was true.
Any new light Alana Martin could shed on one of the victims could
possibly add to Mulder's profile in progress.

Mulder. Shit. Skinner had almost forgotten about Mulder. He was
still missing, and he needed to get to the field office to help find
him. The AD shuddered all of a sudden, and Alana asked him if he
was cold. "We can turn the heat on," she offered innocently.

"No, it's all right. I'm not really cold. I don't think anyway," he
responded. Then he repeated his request for any new information.

"I'm sorry. I didn't really see him much, since I was away at school.
But we could ask my brother if he knows anything."

Skinner nodded in agreement, and looked forward to interviewing
the younger Martin. He had high hopes that his misfortune with the
rental would possibly turn to some good after all.

Unfortunately, Tommy Martin was not at home to be interviewed.
He was sleeping over at a friend's house, so Skinner handed Alana
one of his cards with his cell phone number on it. She asked her to
talk to Tommy and to give him a call if there was anything new they
could tell him about young Kevin Jenkins. He then offered his
thanks, bid her goodnight, and watched her kiss her boyfriend Eric
a most passionate good night.

The drive to the field office normally would have taken around
twenty minutes, however, due to the weather, it was closer to an
hour. Eric and the AD chatted amiably about law enforcement and
future plans. Eric mentioned he might be interested in becoming a
lawyer someday, to which Skinner replied that's how he started out.
The opportunities offered by the FBI, however, turned the AD's
plans around. He looked at Eric and said, "You never know what
paths your life will lead you on. Just don't be afraid to take the
divergent one. It may lead you someplace worthwhile."

The two men shook hands, and Skinner once again expressed his
thanks. Eric wished him good luck on the case, and that he would
remind Alana to call him if she had anything of interest. The AD
nodded in agreement, turned and walked into the field office.

It was time to find a killer.

It was time to find Mulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Skinner arrived at the field office, everyone else had
gone off to investigate the site of the latest victim's location. He
walked around the central office; the one Mulder and Obayashi had
so obviously set up as it had the Mulder touch all over the place.

He could see Mulder in the way the index cards were tacked up on
the bulletin board in various types of patterns. The photos of the
too numerous crime scenes were also displayed in a similar manner,
as it was Mulder's profiling training and personal contention that
every crime victim had the truth and clues somewhere on his or her
body. The photos could tell them, if they knew what to look for.

Mulder was the best at figuring out exactly what to look for.
Unfortunately, he was the one who needed finding, which resulted
in a helluva catch-22.

"Where the hell are you, Mulder?" he muttered to himself aloud.

"More like 'who the hell took you', Sir," was the unexpected reply.
Skinner turned around immediately to see Agent Obayashi standing
by the door.

"Hello, Sir. Umm, Sir? I just want to say, I'm sorry you had to
come out. I really thought he was going back to the hotel to sleep,"
Obayashi stated quietly.

"Riichi, you have no reason to apologize. I suspect you're right.
Someone grabbed Mulder on purpose, and I suspect they would
have found a way to kidnap him no matter what. The sixty-four
dollar question is, why?

"Why did this UNSUB want Mulder? Is he another victim in this
serial case we're dealing with? Does he fit the victims' profiles?
Does he meet the UNSUB's needs according to his profile? What
need does Mulder fulfill for his captor?" Skinner asked in summary.

"Yes, Sir. Those are exactly the questions we were asking
ourselves before the latest victim appeared. I have a bad feeling
about this, AD Skinner," Riichi confessed.

"How so?"

"I think the perp carefully chooses his victims, though I'm not sure
as to how or why. However, I think Mulder was close to figuring
it out. Sir, Mulder, as sick as he was, he never bitched or
complained. He just kept pouring over those damned crime scene
photos and files. Mulder knew every interview that had been
conducted inside and out," Obayashi began to explain.

"__ And he would have kept going till he collapsed, if Obayashi
here hadn't convinced him to go back to the hotel to rest,"
interjected another voice. The not quite six footer, just shy of forty,
SAC strode over to the Assistant Director with his hand extended.
"Hello, Sir. I'm James Albright. We met briefly at the Denver
Conference a few months ago. I hope you flight was a good one."

"Yes, Agent Albright, I do remember. The flight was fine, the car
ride over here was something less than desired but certainly
memorable," Skinner responded with a slight sigh.

"Are you okay?" asked Riichi with concern.

"Yes, yes, Agent Obayashi," he replied formally. He wasn't feeling
up to going into all the details. "I will, however, need a lift to the
crime scenes as well as a lift to Addison," and when he took note of
the questioning stares, he added, "I had a little run in with a light
pole. The car was towed, I got a lift, and the kid's who drove me
here may actually have some information on one of the earlier
victims."

"Are you sure you're okay, Sir?" asked Albright this time.

"Yes," he replied quickly, and then he cleared his throat in an effort
to divert the subject of conversation from him to anything else.
"So, now what are your theories regarding Mulder's disappearance
and this case. Are they related?"

"We're not sure. We're still trying to piece what little evidence we
have together," replied Albright.

Riichi rocked a bit back and forth as he listened to Albright.
Skinner sensed this agent had something to say on the subject, but
feared he might be stepping on his SAC's toes. SAC Albright was
sensitive enough to pick up on Obayashi's feelings as well.

"Agent Obayashi, I suspect you might have developed your own
theory on this, am I right?" Albright questioned.

Obayashi quickly looked to both Albright and Skinner for their
approval, so when they both nodded slightly, Riichi spoke his mind.
"I think Mulder had the profile written in his head. He was just
having a tough time getting it to make sense on paper. Sir, there
are notes and post-its all over the hotel room. I think it's because
Mulder was close. I think he was really close to identifying him,
and I think the perp knew it.

"I think,'' Riichi considered thoughtfully, "the perp needed to get
Mulder out of the picture so he could continue his little feeding
frenzy. Sirs?" Both of the agent's superiors looked at him, and
Riichi said, "I think the sonofabitch is going to start escalating. I
believe he thinks he's safe now, because Mulder's not in the
picture."

"I have to concur, Agent Obayashi," replied Skinner. "Let's go find
them. Let's go find them both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder couldn't stop shivering. The dankness of the darkened
room, coupled with the draftiness from the small, broken basement
window directly behind him, caused his body to go into
uncontrollable tremors. His inability to find any warmth, any
comfort at all, caused him to not only feel physically depleted,
but emotionally drained as well.

Then, there was also the coughing and the interminable pain he
began to associate with simply breathing. Each gasp became more
and more like a knife in his chest. It hurt to even try to draw a
breath.

Fox Mulder was hurting big time, and he didn't know what to do.

When he didn't think he could stand the pain for another moment,
he felt a cool, comforting hand on his forehead.

"Oy, Foxila, you're burning up."

"Nana," he rasped out softly. It began to hurt to talk as much as it
hurt to breathe.

"Fox, you have to get out of here," she said without thinking.

"I know, Nana," he answered gently in some ironic attempt to offer
her some comfort over his situation.

However, before either of them realized it, another coughing fit
overtook him. Fluid had begun building up in Mulder's lungs as the
annoying cold, which had knocked out much of his resistance to
infection before hand, had now threatened to turn into a full-blown
case of pneumonia. His fever hovered around the 102 degree mark,
though of course neither Mulder nor Nana knew that for sure.

But Nana was observant enough to see the man was in pain, and
she was not sure how much longer he would be able to endure it.
That thought frightened her, for Nana knew if Fox were to give into
the pain, the monster who brought him to this place would win.
She felt she had to convince Fox to not give himself up to the pain.

"Shayner boychikel, you have to find a way to rest. You're so sick,
mine beauty-ful aynekel, you need to be able to close your eyes and
get back your strength to fight that ___, that living demon!" she
implored.

"I want to, but I can't, Nana. It hurts," he moaned softly, "It hurts
too much."

"Fox, can you remember how you used to find your way back to
me? You know, when things got too hard? Can't you do that
again, sweetheart? Wouldn't that help you gather your strength
back?"

Mulder considered what the old woman was saying. He knew his
Nana felt only concern for him, and she meant well, but he also
quickly realized he could never again do what she suggested.

"Nana, I've spent too much time and too much money putting room
additions on my therapist's home to retreat back into my mind like I
used to. Nana, it's so easy to go to you, but it was getting so
damned hard to leave you.

"I can't take the chance of losing Scully or Adam, or __, or the
baby, so I have to hold on to this reality no matter how much it
hurts. I won't let go of my life anymore Nana. I can't let go of it,"
he insisted.

"Even if it kills you, Fox?" Nana asked earnestly.

"When I think of my family, my mother, Mom and Walter, my children
and my Scully __. Oh, Nana, it's the only thing that's keeping me
alive!" he concluded. At this point Mulder had trouble catching his
breath,
and he then began coughing hard again. Several minutes passed
before he was able to catch his breath again.

"Nana, please. Help her find me. Help my Scully find me."

"I'll try, mine shayner aynekel, I promise I'll try."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie peeked in the doorway to the nursery. Even with just the
night light on, it was bright and cheerful. But the crib was empty.
Wrapping her robe more tightly around her, she tiptoed down to
the study.

Fox had decorated the study and Maggie had to chuckle every time
she walked in. Unlike his old bachelor apartment, he'd taken time
to chose items that reflected his true nature. The wallpaper was an
interesting print made up of tiny little flying saucers. The border
was the strange green alien faces that she saw all the time in
specialty stores in the mall.

One wall was built in bookshelves, the other was a built in cabinet
to house their computer and Fox's rather impressive, and
expensive, stereo system. There was a desk, but it was usually
covered, as it was now, with piles of papers on one side and
immaculate on the other. Maggie had no doubt whose side
belonged to whom.

Before she even got fully in the room, Maggie determined where
the baby had gone. She could hear her daughter softly singing an
old Simon and Garfunkle tune. Maggie smiled, but her smile faded
a bit at the scene before her. Dana was rocking Dawn, all right.
But she was sitting at the desk, with Dawn latched on and feeding.
Dana herself was sitting at the desk, papers in small piles before
her, her glasses perched on her nose, engrossed in
the writing on the paper in front of her.

"Sweetheart, have you been up all night?" Maggie asked, not able
to hide her concern any longer. "That's not good for your milk, you
know."

Dana looked up and frowned. "My milk is fine, Mom. I didn't
want to wake you. Go on back to sleep. Dawn's almost finished
and then I'll lie down for a few minutes," she said, but her eyes
refused to meet her mother's.

"I believe that as much as when you told me you were sleeping over
at Jenny Egizi's house, but it was the same night as the dance your
father had forbidden you to go to," Maggie said with eyes
narrowed. "Dana, you need to get some rest. You have two little
ones who need you."

Meeting her mother's annoyed gaze with an equally determined one,
Dana shook her head. "No, Mom. I have a _partner_ who needs
me. I'm here with the kids, they aren't missing out. But Fox is out
there alone. I should be there, in Chicago, either with him
wherever he is, or searching for him with Walter and Riichi. Stuck
here in Georgetown is the last place I should be," she said through
clenched teeth.

Maggie started to say something in reply, but stopped. It was the
same kind of argument she'd had off and on for a time span of over
thirty-five years. Except it wasn't the Captain arguing with her this
time, it was his daughter. And just as she knew she seldom won the
battles when Bill was that determined, she knew she'd never win
this battle, either.

"Well, let me get you some tea, at least," Maggie said, quietly
leaving her daughter who watched her with confusion.

When Maggie got back with the tea, Dana was burping the baby
over her shoulder. "Here, I'll take Dawn, you go back to work,"
Maggie said and scooped her granddaughter up into her arms.

Dana looked perplexed as she watched her mother settle into one of
the other chairs in the room and begin the job of 'bringing up the
bubble' as she'd always called it. "Mom? What just happened?"

"You're as stubborn as your father. I know which battles to pick,
Dana. I didn't live with the man as long as I did and not learn when
to pick my battles. Go on, you've got quite a pile there. When I
get Dawn in her crib, you can tell me what you're doing at 2:35 in
the morning."

Surprisingly enough, Dawn went down without too much fuss and
Maggie was able to return to the study. "You know, I think we're
finally turning the corner with her," Maggie said and pulled a chair
up to the desk across from her daughter.

"Elizabeth told me that Samantha was colicky to about three
months. Poor kid, it was in the gene's on both sides. But I hope
we're seeing the last of it. Or maybe she just knows that we need
her help right now. I need the time to think."

Maggie picked up a piece of paper and tried to read it. "What are
all these lines? Is this in English?"

Dana snorted in amusement. "Didn't know your son-in-law could
'write' in tongues, did you, Mom." She took the paper back and
gazed at it almost fondly. "When he writes a rough draft of a
profile, Fox uses yellow legal pads. The blue lines on the paper
don't come through on a fax. But then, if he's on a roll, he rarely
hits the blue lines, anyway. I've begged him for years to use a
laptop, but he always tells me a pencil's battery never needs
recharging. And yes, believe it or not, this is English. Took me the
better part of our first year as partners to decipher it, but by now,
I'm an expert linguist in 'Mulder-writing'.

"Are you finding anything useful?" Maggie asked, almost dreading
the answer. She didn't see how any of those scratchings could
result in something Walter could actually use.

"Yes, I have, really," Dana said, digging down to her own white
pad of paper. "So far, Mulder's pretty sure the man they're looking
for, and that is what he has, by the way, a 'man'. Anyway, this man
has some problems with his sexuality. He's more than likely in his
late thirties, homosexual. Probably was abused as a child.

"Again, Mulder relates this to the sexuality. Either father or a male
figure in his life didn't like the fact the guy was gay and beat him for
it. Now this same man is acting out against teen aged boys.
Mulder also suspects that he gets access to the boys through some
organized activity, whether through coaching a kid's sports team or
maybe through a school or teen center.

"But that's what has him stumped. There's no relation between the
victims. They attended different school, went to different churches.
Some of them played sports, others didn't. And the first victim
wasn't even in Chicago. He lived in a suburb, south of the city,"
concluded Dana.

Maggie didn't ignore the fact that Dana was now referring to her
husband by his last name, a throw back to their days before the
wedding. But what really amazed her was the calm that had
descended over Dana as she detailed what was in the paper, what
was going through her husband's mind.

Dana wasn't through speaking. "If we could just get a link between
the victims. Something to connect them. As I'm seeing it, and as
Mulder sees it, it's almost a random pattern. The only thing these
boys had in common was the fact that they were teenagers and lived
in or near Chicago. That's a pretty big net, and it makes it that
much harder to narrow the possible victims." She leaned back in the
chair and stretched.

"Is there anyway I can help?" Maggie asked, feeling totally useless.
This was a part of her daughter she almost chose to ignore. It was
the dangerous part, the part that dealt with murder and mayhem. It
was the part she'd prayed Dana would turn from, back when she
first looked at the FBI. But it was still a part of her little girl.

Dana smiled and reached over to take her mother's hand. "Mom,
you're already helping. Just by being here. Just by keeping an eye
on Adam, burping Dawn, and making me tea. I need to
concentrate, and I can, because I know you're here to help with the
kids. I'm fine, really.

"I'm going to go over some more of this and then in a couple of
hours, I'll call Riichi and tell him what I've dug up. Poor guy, he
was beside himself." Dana sadly shook her head. "Been there,
done that," she whispered. After a moment, she came back to
herself. "Hey, have you heard from Walter? I heard the phone
ring, but you must have picked up pretty fast, I only heard it once."

Maggie smiled self-consciously. "I can tell when it's him on the
phone," she admitted. "Yes, it was Walter. He got into
Indianapolis all right, but the weather to the north is still awful. He
was renting a car and driving."

Dana grimaced. "That's not a fun drive, even when the weather is
good. In a snowstorm, I hope he got a big car. He'll need the extra
weight. Or an SUV. The roads get icy so quick in the midwest."

Maggie smiled again as she remembered the conversation about the
rental. "Oh, he's got a nice, big car, Dana. And if I'm not careful,
we'll be trading cars again by spring. But he promised to call when
he gets to Chicago, and he didn't expect to get there too quickly, so
I guess it will be morning before we hear any more."

Dana closed her eyes for a moment and couldn't keep the pain off
her face. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone. "I'd hoped
we'd find him by morning," she said, taking a steadying breath and
sorting the pages before her.

Maggie nodded. She'd prayed for that, too. She'd just have to pray
a little harder. "Well, I'm going back to bed. After you talk to
Riichi in a few hours, I expect you to take a nap," she added
sternly, then gave her daughter a reassuring smile and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nana looked at her grandson forlornly. She knew he was in trouble.
That horrible man had come in earlier and untied him, but it didn't
matter. Fox didn't have the strength to turn over on the filthy, moth
eaten, army blanket he laid upon, much less try and escape from the
dank basement room he was held captive in.

She felt his head and realized the sweat that beaded up on his
forehead was cool on his overheated face. She knew he was
burning up, and his lungs were filling up with fluid. Nana worried
there was a very real possibility of infection where he'd been injured
when the car hit him. The leg, broken in at least two places, was
now swollen to significant proportions. The kidney was badly
bruised, so much so that when Mulder did manage to urinate, there
was blood.

Of course, with his fever elevated and his injuries as significant as
they were, Fox hadn't had any liquid intake in quite a while,
but did have quite a bit leaving his body. He was rapidly
becoming more and more dehydrated, and Nana was becoming
more and more worried.

She didn't know if he could help himself this time. He was too hurt
and too sick. He needed her and she wasn't sure if she could help
him. He needed a doctor. Hell, he needed a whole team of
doctors, and Fox Mulder desperately needed the offerings of the
closest medical facility. Fast.

"Foxila? Sweetheart, you mustn't sleep too long," she called out to
him, so worried he might slip into a coma and not come out of it.

"Mmm," was all he said in response.

"Foxila, you need to wake up, mine aynekel. Please, you're scaring
me, sweet boy. Wake up!" she cried more urgently.

"Mmm, Ssss_," he tried to respond. Mulder knew his nana was
watching over him, and he also knew she was frightened by his
condition. He knew how she felt; he was frightened by his
condition.

"Ssssccc_," he tried to call for his Scully.

*Nana, can you understand? I need my Scully. She'll know how to
make me better. She'll know. Please Nana, go get her. Tell her
where I am. Where am I, anyway? Nana, where am I? I need my
Scully,* he cried in his mind, and aloud he began to whimper.

"Oh, Fox. I'll try." She reached out towards his fevered forehead
and caressed it gently. She could feel him lean into her soft touch.
Nana talked to him in soothing, comforting tones. She hoped it
would help him relax enough to allow him to at least sleep. She'd
be back later to make sure he didn't slip into a coma.

Meanwhile, a figure stood toward the middle of the stairwell that
led down to the basement. He watched with interest as the man
he'd considered as his saving grace seemed to be carrying on some
nonsensical conversation with an invisible image. He laughed
softly to himself; they thought _he_ was the crazy one? He
wondered when the last time the profiler extraudinaire had a
complete psych work-up?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Adam sat and quietly played with the dreidel his
mother had bought for him at the Hallmark store. Dana knew they
were horribly overpriced, but she hadn't a clue as to where her
husband had hidden all of the Hanukkah gifts for their son. She had
to delve into the gifts she'd set aside for Christmas Eve and
Christmas Day.

But she'd run out for some more laser copy paper, and she saw
them in the window next door to the Staples and couldn't resist.
Adam was still just a little boy, and for some reason, his Hanukkah
was being ruined by some bastard who was holding his father.

So now, he sat and played with an imaginary friend. Scully
watched with fascination as he carried on a very animated
conversation with this new, invisible guest.

"But if you spin and it lands on a 'nun', you don't get anything. But
if it spins and lands on the 'gimel' you get all of the raisins. You
know that, don't you?"

*Of course I do, Adam, I just forgot for a minute. I'm an old lady.
Can you forgive an old lady, sweetheart?* Nana asked.

The little boy nodded his head furiously, but then said in an insistent
tone of voice, "You're not old!"

Nana threw her head back and laughed out loud at that thought.
*Oy, mine ur-aynekel, you do know how to make this Nana smile.
But I need you to listen to me carefully, Adam. It's very
important,* the old woman said softly and with equal insistence.

"It's about Daddy, isn't it?" Adam asked seriously. At the mention
of 'Daddy' Dana's head shot up. She looked at her five year old,
and thought the youngster appeared to age before her very eyes.

*Yes, Adam. It's about your daddy. He's not feeling very well,
child. He needs a doctor, very, very badly.*

"Mommy's a doctor," Adam replied proudly.

*I know, sweet boy, I know. Your daddy needs your mommy very
much. As soon as possible.*

"Okay. I'll tell Mommy to go to Daddy. Do you know the
address?" asked Adam innocently.

*No, shayner boychikel, no, I don't. That's why I need your help
and her help. I don't know the address. But he's in a dark, damp
place and it's making him sick, sweetheart. Tell your mommy he
needs her help quickly. Sweetheart, tell her it's time to go to him."

"Okay, Nana. I'll tell her," replied Adam. As soon as Dana heard
him say Nana, she ran over to him as if she were shot out of a
cannon.

"Adam! Adam, who were you talking to, big guy?" she asked
anxiously.

"Nana," he replied unflinchingly.

"Nana? Daddy's grandma; that Nana?" He nodded his head
furiously. Dana then asked, "Adam, what did Nana say about
Daddy?"

"She said he needed you. Mommy, Daddy's sick and in a cold, dark
place, and he's hurt and wants you, and she said you should go to
him," Adam said in a rush.

"But where is he, Adam? Where did Nana say he was?" she asked
pleadingly.

"She didn't know, Mommy. I asked her, but she said she didn't
know the address. All she kept saying was Daddy needed you. I
think Daddy doesn't feel good again, Mommy. Nana thinks Daddy
is real hurted."

"Ohmigod." Dana looked around the room frantically. She
couldn't understand why now, of all times, the old woman didn't
materialize for her and give her the answers she needed. "Nana,"
she whispered almost to herself, "where is Fox?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone call came early the next morning. The SAC arrived
early with fresh rounds of coffee for everyone. Skinner and
Obayashi had never made it back to the hotel room, so the AD was
there to receive it. Obayashi answered picked up the ringing phone,
and moments later, called to his superior.

"AD Skinner? An Alana Martin is asking for you?"

"Thank you, Riichi," he responded, and then as an aside he quietly
explained, "It's the young lady who gave me the ride last night."
Obayashi figured as much, but was glad to have the confirmation.

"Yes, Miss Martin. This is Walter Skinner."

"Hello Mr. Skinner. I know it's early, but I think you might want
to speak with my brother. He said he'd talk to you about Kevin,
but my mom's not too thrilled with the idea of us traveling into the
city in this weather."

"We'll come to you. What time can you see us?"

"Well, Mom's got us pretty much house bound, so anytime, really,"
the college coed replied.

"Very well, Alana, then we're going to be on our way. I suspect it
should take us about thirty minutes or so, but take the weather
into consideration. I'm going to put another agent on the line
whose more familiar with the area, so you can give him directions,
okay?" Upon hearing her affirmative response, he told her he'd see
her and her family shortly. "Oh, and thanks for calling. We really
do appreciate your help on this."

SAC Albright knew exactly which community Alana and her
brother lived in, and was able to pinpoint where their house was
immediately. He and the AD were off to Addison, while Riichi held
down the fort in the office. He'd started sending Dana the faxes of
Mulder's notes, and wanted to be available in case she had any
questions. After trying to decipher the chicken scratches Mulder
called his handwriting, Riichi wondered how the hell she'd be able
to make sense of any of it.

The duo arrived in Addison a half hour later and rang the doorbell
to the Martin home. Alana opened the door and invited the two
men inside.

"Cold today," she murmured, suddenly quite shy around the large
man in authority.

"Alana, I really do want to thank you and your family for getting
back to us. It's important we learn as much as possible about the
victims if we're going to __," he hesitated for but a moment before
he continued, "capture this killer." He thought for only a second
that it would probably mean finding Mulder's kidnapper as well, but
since there was no proof, and it wasn't necessary to mention the
possibility of another victim, he kept quiet.

"It's okay, Mr. Skinner. When I'd mentioned to Tommy we gave
you a lift, it was his idea to have me call you," she replied. "I'll go
get him. Why don't you come in and have a seat. My mom will be
down shortly too, if that's okay."

"Of course." They were led into a tastefully decorated living room,
but one that was definitely lived in. Photos decorated the wall and
the mantel, as well trophies stood tall around the room announcing
the children's accomplishments. This was a house where the
children's accomplishments were proudly displayed for all to see.

"Hi," said a soft spoken, tall and lean young man. "I'm Tommy
Martin." He extended his hand politely.

"Hello, Tommy. I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner, and this is
Special Agent in Charge James Albright. We both appreciate it
very much that you're willing to talk with us."

"It's okay. Kevin, well, Kevin was my friend. Not everyone was
willing to admit that, and I guess I was one of the few willing to do
so," he said looking directly at his sister, "but now he can't stand up
for himself anymore, can he." It was a rhetorical question, that
needed no answer.

"What can you tell us about Kevin Jenkins, Tommy?" James
Albright asked gently. At that moment, Mrs. Martin walked into
the room, carrying steaming cups of coffee.

The two men stood politely as she placed the tray on the coffee
table. "Oh, please, sit gentlemen. I thought you might appreciate
something hot on such a cold day. It's so strange how the weather
had been so mild, and now it's become so cold and raw." The
woman shuddered slightly in response to her own words.

"Thank you for allowing us to speak with Tommy, Mrs. Martin.
He may have information that could be very helpful."

She nodded in agreement, and then asked, "Do you mind if I stay
in the room with Tommy? I promise I won't interfere."

"Of course. Alana, you're more than welcomed to stay too, if
that's all right with all of you." Skinner noted the positive nods of
heads around him, and prodded the young man to continue.
"Tommy, you were saying that no one else would admit to being
Kevin's friend. Could you explain that?"

"He was gay. He never flaunted it, but he never tried to hide it
either, so he was kind of a pariah. Not that the other kids did
anything to him; they just never bothered to include him in their
social circles."

"That must have been tough for him," reflected Albright. "How
did he deal with it?"

"Well, he was actually pretty cool about it, until his parents found
out. They went kind of ballistic, ya know? They'd insisted he go to
this treatment center to try and change him. Nobody knew except
me, cause Kev didn't like to talk about it. He didn't like to talk
about anything that had to do with his parents."

"Why was that, Tommy?" Skinner asked softly. He encouraged
Tommy Martin to keep talking, since none of what the young man
had shared so far was on record in any of the files they'd had back
at the office. Somehow, the CPD missed Tommy Martin.

"Well, his mom and dad were having a tough time dealing with him
being gay. His mom just kept saying prayers all the time; she
started going to church twice a day to pray for him," he explained.

"And what about his father?" asked Albright.

"Hhrruummphh!" groaned Tommy. "He didn't quite react in the
same way."

Tommy hesitated for a minute, looked briefly at his mother and
then his sister. When he saw Alana nod slightly, he continued.
"He beat him. He beat him something awful, and yelled and
screamed that he had to stop this bullshit __, sorry, Mom, but that's
what he said it was _, and he told him if he didn't stop breaking his
mother's heart he'd beat the crap out of him.

"And he did, quite a few times. He had to go to the emergency
room once, maybe twice for x-rays," Tommy related softly.

"What happened then? Didn't they arrest him for child abuse?"
Albright asked naively.

"Naw. Kevin refused to say it was his dad's fault. He was afraid
he'd be even more angry, get out and either beat him up more or
take it out on his mother. Mr. Jenkins could be one helluva nasty
guy," said Tommy.

"You mentioned he went for treatment. Where was this, Tommy?"
asked Albright.

"At the City Teen Center," Tommy responded. "It wasn't anything
really formal, but it was supposed to be kept confidential, ya know?
No one knew he was going there for counseling; they thought he
hung out there cause he didn't want to be around his mom or dad."

"Did Kevin ever mention the names of anyone else who went there
for counseling?" asked Skinner.

"Naw. Like I said, it was supposed to be confidential, and Kevin
was the kind of guy who'd respect that kind of thing. He wouldn't
tell me who was going there for counseling sessions, but to be
honest, I wouldn't have thought to ask him either. It wasn't like it
was any of my business, ya know?" Tommy offered.

"Tommy, you knew Kevin Jenkins pretty well, didn't you?" Albright
asked.

"Yes, Sir. I did." Tommy looked at his mother, who smiled
encouragingly at him. Tommy took a deep breath, blew it out, and
said, "We kind of had a relationship. You see, I'm gay too.

Both agents took in a small gasp of air. It wasn't because the
young man confessed his sexual orientation. It was because there
was no record of any Chicago Police Officer ever interviewing one
Tommy Martin, and neither man had a clue as to why that was.

"Tommy, did any police officer ever come to ask you questions
about Kevin?" asked Skinner in a tone that belied his disgust at the
ineptitude of the CPD.

"No, Sir. I'll be honest, I never looked for them either; I didn't
want to make waves. I've come out to my family, but I haven't
come out to my friends. Kids my age don't always welcome Gays
and Lesbians with open arms, ya know?

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I consider myself really, really, lucky.
I mean I've got a sister who's pretty cool about it, and a mom who I
know loves me for me. The fact that I like other guys instead of
girls doesn't thrill her, but it sure as hell won't stop her from loving
me. I know that. I'm very, very lucky.

"Kevin wasn't so lucky. His mother ignored the whole situation and
tried to pray the _problem_ away, and his father beat the crap out
of him," Tommy said.

"What about your father, Tommy?" asked Skinner.

At this point, Mrs. Martin spoke up. "Tommy's dad was killed in
the line of duty eighteen months ago, Mr. Skinner, but Tommy's
dad was a kind and loving man who accepted his son for whom he
was. George loved his children very much."

"I'm sure he did, Ma'am, and I'm very sorry for your loss," replied
Albright. "Mrs. Martin, you mentioned Mr. Martin was killed in
the line of duty. What was his profession?"

"He was an eighteen year veteran of the Chicago Police
Department," she replied with pride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"GOD DAMN IT!!" Skinner ranted over and over again as he
walked through the doors of the field office meeting room.
"How could those sonofabitches _NOT_ interview that boy?
What the HELL were they thinking?"

Obayashi looked up curiously and rather startled to see his
normally controlled and totally professional superior cussing
like a truck driver who was hauled over by the state police for
being only two pounds overweight on his load.

"What's going on?" he asked Albright quietly.

"You won't believe this one. I don't believe it, and I live
here for God's sake. I mean I'd heard about it, but I never
thought it would impede one of my investigations!" the
SAC replied with as much vehemence as Skinner's tone
implied.

"You guys gonna keep me in suspense, or what?" Riichi
asked, very curious now.

"This kid brother I'd told you about, well, he was
a gold mine of information. A God damned gold
mine, and no one from the Chicago PD interviewed
the kid. NO ONE! DAMN THEM!" Skinner was so
observably upset at the moment, his hands started
shaking. He pushed them into the pockets of the
coat he still wore.

"Why? Why didn't they interview him?"

The kid's father was a cop and died in the line of duty
almost two years ago," responded Albright.

"So? What does that have to do with not interviewing
the kid?"

"He was the victim's lover, Riichi," said Skinner. "They
didn't want to tarnish the name of a fallen officer, so the
sonsofabitches decided to simply ignore the fact that this
kid might have had important, new information.

"The kid hadn't come forward, since no one had asked
him any questions. But he was perfectly willing to talk.
My God, the kid was terrific. He gave us a whole new angle
to look at , Riichi. The kid was amazing," the AD said,
and then added earnestly, "His dad would have been
proud of him."

"So, give me something new to chew on. Please! I've
been sitting here biting my nails waiting to hear from Dana.
I sent her everything we had, but I can't imagine her being
able to make any headway on it. Shit, he should have been
the doctor in the family with his handwriting," muttered Riichi.

"So, any suggestions as where we should go from here?" asked
Albright

"Well, maybe we wait and see what Dana can come up with
from Mulder's notes. Mulder was close, we know that much.
For all we know, this is a totally unrelated incident," Skinner
said unconvincingly.

"Yeah, and the weather is balmy out there too," retorted Albright.
"No, Mulder's disappearance is related somehow. I'm just not sure
why. I mean, Riichi says Mulder was close; real close to nailing
the profile, right? So maybe, somehow, our UNSUB got wind of
this and decided to get him out of the way so he could continue
with his work unimpeded?"

"That's possible. The man acted almost immediately after Mulder
was taken. Maybe this maniac wants to show Mulder just how
good he is at getting to these young boys," agreed Skinner.

"No," interjected Obayashi, "it's more than that. Mulder had said
the UNSUB was acting out his frustrations of not being accepted
by going after male adolescents. He was seeking acceptance,
because he thought he was doing something good."

"So why nab Mulder? I mean this is the one guy who can probably
put him away for life. He must know the FBI is going to bend over
backwards to find him. Why kidnap the one person who could
ruin your life?" asked Albright.

Riichi paused for a moment before he gasped. "Maybe the UNSUB's
aware of Mulder's reputation of being a top notch profile. Maybe he
wants to show Mulder he can't be caught. Maybe he wants to prove
to__." Riichi stopped short and gasped. "Holy shit. He wants
Mulder's approval."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana stumbled back on her heels from her crouched position, but
she maintained a calmness to her voice. She hated hiding her
emotions, especially from her own little boy, but it was necessary.

"Nana said Daddy needs me? In Chicago?" At his perplexed look
she amended her question. "Where Uncle Riichi and Daddy are
working?"

Adam nodded solemnly in the affirmative. "Mommy, I think we
need to go right now. I think we need to go to the airport, like
you and Daddy do, and I think we should bring some clothes and
stuff and Dawn's blankies and my pillow. We can find Daddy. He
needs us to find him."

Dana's heart was in her throat, but she struggled to keep a passive
face. "Sweetheart, I want to go to Daddy very much. And if Nana
says he needs me, I will try to go to him. But right now, we don't
have . . . we need . . ."

"A lead?"

The word, coming from her son's mouth, but sounding so much like
her husband, caught her off guard, and a bubble of nervous
laughter left her lips. "Yes, big guy. We need a lead."

"Daddy writes all his ideas down on the papers, Mommy. It's there.
You just have to know where to look."

She closed her mouth tightly, afraid of what might pop out. Well,
he was their son, that was much was certain. Finally, she trusted
herself to speak.

"I better go look a little harder then, shouldn't I?" she said, giving
him a hug and ruffling his hair. "Why don't you put some p.j.s and
things in your suitcase, just in case."

"Like when I go to Gam-ma and Gam-pa's?" At her approving nod,
he scampered off to find his suitcase in his closet.

Trembling slightly, she walked back to the study and sat down at
the desk. Nana was appearing to Adam. She knew Fox was in
trouble. She was using Adam as a conduit? That made so little
sense. But she was so tied up with the baby and with trying to
make heads or tails out the chicken scratchings her husband called
notes . . .

You just have to know where to look. How many times had she
said that to her husband. It was one of the first things she'd ever
said to him, when she didn't even know him. And it was how she
frequently dealt with her son's missing shoe or errant lego block.
You just have to know where to look.

She pulled up the first sheet of paper. Although it was on the top
of the stack, that meant she'd concluded that it was the most recent
set of notes. Mulder's handwriting had a distinct pattern. When the
case was new, when he was just lining up rote facts, his
handwriting was precise and almost readable. As the words started
coming from his mind, from his own thoughts and hopes and fears,
the precision was lost and the readability faltered. By the time he
was close to the actual profile, his writing was almost a straight
line with an occasional bump for effect.

Fortunately, he hadn't gotten that far. But the last page was pretty
hard to decode anyway. Dana held the paper, and drew a deep
breath.

"Speak to me, Mulder. Tell me what you were thinking," she
pleaded of the page in her hand.

<<Authority figures>>

<<teachers coaches scout leaders>>

<<probably not group>>

<<individual met alone no supervision counseling??>>

<<boys not afraid when approached out of normal circumstances>>

Scully sighed heavily. She closed her eyes, as she'd often seen
Mulder do, and tried to internalize the thoughts behind the words.

An authority figure, probably a counselor. But someone who could
approach the boys without invoking fear or suspicion. Most
teachers are screened. Coaches tended to be the the parents of a
child on the team. Psychologist? They might invoke suspicion if
confronted outside the office. Authority figure. A person in
authority.

"A cop."

"Did you say something, sweetheart?" Maggie asked from the
doorway. Dawn was perched in her arms, smiling happily at her
mother from across the room.

"A cop. It makes sense. A cop. Mom, I think I know where
Mulder was heading with his profile. I think the killer might be a
cop." She stood and gathered the papers, placing them into her
briefcase.

"Sweetheart. Dana. Where are you going? And why is Adam
packing his overnight bag?" Maggie was a little annoyed and a lot
confused.

"Mom, I can't explain it all right now, but we're going to Chicago.
I'm going to call and book us on the next flight. Could you please
throw some stuff in the diaper bag for Dawn. I'll use my suitcase in
the back of the closet, I'm pretty sure it's still set with the basics.

"And Riichi and Walter. Could you call Walter and tell him we're
on our way?"

"Dana, you cannot just pack up and take off with a three month old
baby! What in the world are you thinking?" Maggie demanded, her
shoulders tense and her jaw set. "Now, just relax and tell me what
this is all about?"

"Mom, Nana has been talking to Adam. Nana, Mom. Nana, who
only comes when Fox is sick or in trouble. Now, Nana has told
Adam to tell me to go to Chicago. Are you going to stand there
and argue or are you going to help me pack and get the kids
ready?"

Adam appeared from his room, bulging overnight bag dragging
behind him. "Gam-ma, are we going to light the candles tonight?
It's almost time," he pointed out.

Maggie looked at her daughter, saw the determination there, and
sighed. She turned a loving gaze toward her grandson. "Not
tonight, Adam. They don't let you light candles on airplanes."

Adam's face lit up like a skyrocket. "Yippee! Dawnie, we're goin'
on a airplane! We're gonna find Daddy and have Hanukkah in
Chicago!"

Dana smiled tensely at her son. She hoped it would be that simple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone call from Dana offered them a pretty solid profile based
upon her husband's notes. This gave Skinner the necessary
ammunition to return to the Martin residence to propose his plan.
He'd first laid it out for the other team members, and though there
was some hesitancy on their part, no one out and out disagreed
with the AD.

Not that anyone would out and out disagree with Walter S.
Skinner.

But no one hedged either once all of the possible calamities that
could occur were negated by all of the possible benefits. It was
now, however, with great trepidation that Skinner returned to the
Martin residence, for he wasn't absolutely sure this was the right
thing to do. In fact, he was almost positive it was a terrible thing
to do.

But he also knew it was the only thing they could do if they were
going to catch this killer before he murdered again.

And Skinner knew the Martins would hesitate, but for a moment,
before they agreed to agree to the plan, because that's just the way
the Martins were. Supportive, united, and of strong moral fiber.

SAC Albright and Agent Obayashi both accompanied the AD to the
suburban home. They were there as his moral support, and he
planned on milking it for all they were worth. This one wasn't
going to be easy.

Skinner rang the doorbell and waited. He shifted from one foot to
the other in an attempt to release the nervous energy. It wasn't
working. He was afraid if he attempted to talk at this moment, his
voice would crack like a schoolboy's right before his Bar Mitzvah.
Skinner actually managed to smile at that, as he allowed himself a
brief respite in remembering the joy he shared with his son-in-law at
his adult Bar Mitzvah service just a few short months ago.

The door opened. Tommy Martin stared at the tall, balding man
standing nervously before him. "Hello, Mr. Skinner. I knew you'd
be back." The fifteen year old spoke as an old, wizened man might.
It was almost as if the youngster knew what was going to be asked
of him.

''Hello, Tommy. I confess, I didn't think I'd be back here so
quickly, but we need to talk to you, Son. I'd like your mom and
sister to join us too," Skinner requested.

"Sure. Come on in," he replied and pointed towards the living
room they'd all sat in earlier in that morning. "I'll go get Mom and
Alana." He turned and climbed the stairs to the second level.

Meanwhile, the trio and waited uneasily for the Martin family to
return. As they waited, Skinner looked at the family pictures on
display. When he saw one of the pictures in particular, Skinner felt
his heart jump. "Riichi, come here. Look at this," Skinner gasped.
"I can't believe I didn't notice this the last time we were here."

"What is it, Sir?" asked the agent and looked at the object in
question. Hanging before them was a picture portrait of a man,
probably in his early forties, clothed in full dress uniform. "Holy
shit! Sir, he could be Mulder's older brother, couldn't he? I mean,
they don't look exactly alike, but the resemblance is strong enough
that __.

"Damn, Sir. Would you excuse me? I think we need to look into
this aspect also," Riichi stated quickly. "I'm going to call Dana. I
want to see if anything Mulder wrote about might be related to a
situation such as this."

The AD nodded in agreement with the younger agent's plan, and
watched as he moved to a corner of the room. Riichi placed the
call and spoke quietly. Just then, Mrs. Martin and Alana, followed
by young Tommy, came down the stairs.

"Hello Mr. Skinner. Agent Albright, isn't it?" Mrs. Martin greeted
and extended her hand. "Tommy says you need to speak with us."

Skinner shook the hand of Mrs. Martin, and held it in his hand for
perhaps a millisecond longer than necessary, but it was long enough
for Mrs. Martin to sense there was concern on everyone's part.

"I think we'd all better sit down," she suggested. Mrs. Martin
suddenly looked tired, and several years older than the forty-three
years she normally camouflaged so well. "What can we do for you,
Mr. Skinner?"

"We now have a pretty solid profile on our suspect, Mrs. Martin.
We have a better idea on what his character traits are, his
profession, and perhaps even his motive."

"Do you know who it is?" asked Alana.

"No," answered SAC Albright. "Not yet, at any rate, but we're
getting much closer. The profile helped solidify our suspicions, but
we still don't have an ID."

"What do you need me to do?" asked Tommy. He instinctively
knew he was going to play a role in the apprehension of this lunatic,
and he wanted to cut to the chase and find out exactly what his role
would be.

Skinner sighed. He began to doubt himself, and wondered if this
was the most responsible course to take.

"Mr. Skinner," Tommy interrupted his reverie, "I told you I'd help.
I want to help. I want to do this for Kevin. I have to do this for
Kevin."

Tommy looked down at his feet and remained silent for the next
several moments. He was suddenly overcome by emotion, and
didn't feel comfortable sharing this part of himself with the agents in
the room. Finally, he took a deep breath, and said, "I loved Kevin,
Mr. Skinner, when no one else would. I need to do this for him.
For both of us."

"Okay. We need you to help us flush the perpetrator out, Tommy,"
stated Skinner succinctly.

"You want to use my son as bait?" asked Mrs. Martin.

"Yes, Ma'am. Essentially, that's what we want to do," replied
Albright.

"I don't know," she murmured in reply.

"I understand your hesitancy, Mrs. Martin, but I can assure you we
will do our utmost to protect Tommy in every possible way,''
assured Skinner.

"Like they protected my husband, Mr. Skinner?" she replied with a
taste of bitterness. "I'm sorry. It's been almost two years and I still
can't believe he's gone."

At that moment, Riichi returned to the group and, standing near the
couch, informed both his superiors he'd been in contact with Agent
Scully. "She's in the middle of the airport," he said, "trying to herd
everyone onto the plane, but Dana did say this latest information
could most definitely have played a part in Agent Mulder's
abduction."

"Agent Mulder?" echoed Alana. "Who's Agent Mulder?"

"An FBI agent whom we believe was abducted by the same man
who murdered Kevin," responded Obayashi. "He was the most
recent profiler that was brought into the case. He was getting very
close to creating the profile when he was abducted."

"Is he alive?" asked Tommy.

"We have no reason to believe otherwise. There's something else;
something Agent Obayashi just alluded to when he mentioned he'd
called Agent Scully with some new information." Skinner
hesitated for a second or two before pulling out his wallet with the
most recent picture of Fox Mulder, in full Bar Mitzvah regalia.

"Mrs. Martin, this is our missing agent, Fox Mulder."

She took the picture from Walter Skinner's hands and wondered for
a moment or two why it would seem so important to him that she
see it. As she grasped the photo, she let her eyes fall on the
unknown, yet somehow familiar features. When she'd looked at the
photo for a bit longer, and managed to get beyond the unfamiliar
religious garb, she finally realized its significance.

"Ohmigod," she practically whimpered.

"Mom?" Both Tommy and Alana expressed their concern, as they
accepted the photo from their mother. Then they, too, both
gasped. Alana was the first to speak.

"He looks just like Daddy."

Tommy could only sit there numbly. He, of the three of them, had
felt the loss of George Martin the most, as it was Tommy who
needed his strength and support the most of late. Though he felt
unashamed of his sexual orientation, there was still a level of
insecurity that others would accept him. His father gave him that
strength to accept who he was and not worry what others
might think.

He remembered his dad telling him as long as he did good in the
world, he was a good person, and it didn't matter who he chose to
love.

Tommy knew one thing. He loved his father, and he missed him
very much. Seeing the photo of this man who bore such a strong
resemblance to his Dad brought those feelings of loss back to the
surface.

Tommy knew in his heart he had to help this man. He looked at
Walter Skinner and said quietly, but with conviction, "Tell me what
you need me to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The old warehouse was colder than he remembered it.
The windows were broken and more than a few of the
skylights had fallen through. Snow was in little piles on
the floor, looking like sawdust in the faint yellow light.
He stepped over the snow, and toward the wooden wall
on the far side. His shoes echoed in the still air.

The door opened with a loud creak. There wasn't much
light in this room. High windows let a little of the yellow
street lights illuminate the area. His arms clutched at the
thin blankets he had brought with him from the back of his car.

There he was. His prize. Not much to look at right now, but
a prize none the less. An FBI agent. Top of the field. What
many detectives aspired to become. But right now, the man
who could bring killers to their knees was huddled around a
single thin blanket, coughing and muttering in his sleep.

He covered his eyes when he'd dragged him into the back
of the car. And bound his feet and arms with duct tape.
The one leg was obviously broken, so he was pretty certain
that the agent was not going to make an escape any time
soon. That was good. Just a little time. That's all he needed.
Just a little time.

When he looked down at the face, even around the blindfold,
it made his heart skip a beat. So like him. So much like him.
He missed him so much.

But this wasn't his friend. This man was dangerous, terribly
dangerous. Just as the last profiler had been worrisome,
this man was uncanny in his abilities. In a short time, he was
already on the right track. The last profiler was easy to distract,
and had been almost humorous to neutralize. An ulcer. One
would think people with ulcers would be more picky about their
diets. But that had only lulled him into a false sense of security.

He'd figured the new man would be easy to distract, too. But
instead, he had to take more drastic actions. He had never
meant to harm him. Just get him out of the way for a while.
Just till he could come up with a good cover, go back to the
way things used to be before his friend left him to fend for himself.

He knelt down and tucked the thin blankets closer around him.
They weren't much, but they would help, a little. He brought a
bottle of water, too, and held the man's head while he tipped the
spout top to his lips. The man drank greedily, but he'd only brought
a small bottle. When half of it was gone, he dropped the man
back to the floor.

"Sorry, buddy," he whispered gruffly. "Gotta go now."

The man, realizing first that he wasn't alone and then that he
was about to be abandoned again, cried out.

"Listen, don't go," Mulder pleaded. "We can talk. I can help
you, I promise. I know people, good lawyers, good doctors.
We'll help you. You don't want to kill me, you've already proven
that point. Just let me go, and I can help you."

He left the warehouse with the words still ringing in his ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The plan was set. The youngster was wired with both a
microphone and a tracking device. There was no possible way they
would lose sight of the teenager. Tommy was instructed to enter
the same Teen Center Kevin Jenkins had attended and ask for the
kind counseling services Kevin had participated in.

Hopefully, the teen would attract the man that fit Mulder and
Scully's profile. Hopefully, they were going to catch themselves a
killer before he killed again.

Hopefully, they would catch him in time to find Mulder safe and
sound.

"Are you ready, Tommy?" asked Skinner while they were in the
large surveillance van. The teenager nodded in the affirmative and
stepped out of the van. He walked toward the nondescript building
which housed various teen activities.

Tommy walked in and saw a large receptionist desk with a young,
energetic woman standing behind it.

"Hi there!" she greeted Tommy enthusiastically. "I don't think I've
ever seen you here before. Is there something you're interested in?"

Tommy shuffled his feet a little. Though he knew he was playing a
role to a certain degree, he was also feeling self-conscious since the
role he was playing was very true to life. His life. And the life of
his dead friend.

"Umm," he stumbled shyly over his words, "um, I heard there was
somebody I could talk to about stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, stuff." Tommy scrutinized the woman a little more closely.
He wasn't sure if she was busting his balls or not. "Yeah, stuff.
You know. Things like about life and, well, you know. Like sex,
and stuff."

"Oh. You want our teen counseling service. Okay. Let's see who's
on today. Okay, Counselor Al is on today. He's a really nice guy.
Very understanding. Pretty cool about talking about sex and stuff.
I'll buzz him, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Tommy waited for Counselor Al to make an
appearance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, the team in the surveillance van was listening closely.
Counselor Al. No one had heard a last name, and that was what
they were really hoping for. Something to possibly identify this
guy. The receptionist had said she'd see who was on for today,
which meant there was more than one counselor. Unfortunately,
there was no way of knowing how many counselors there were at
this point.

All they could do was listen and wait patiently. Well, at the very
least they could listen and wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy turned around in time to see an all too familiar figure walk
toward him. "Oh shit," he muttered. "Oh shit."

The surveillance team heard the boy utter the expletives but weren't
sure why. "C'mon, Tommy, give us something to go on here,"
uttered Skinner through nervous, clenched teeth. "Damn it, talk to
us, Son. What's going on?"

"Tommy? Tommy, is that you?" asked the man Skinner and the
team could only assume was Counselor Al.

"Hi, Alan. How ya doing?" asked the boy in a tone indicative of
familiarity.

"I'm doing just fine, squirt! Just fine, but I gotta admit, I'm a little
surprised to see you all the way downtown. What are you doing
here, Tommy?" asked the counselor.

"Well, I need to talk to someone about some stuff, and I didn't feel
comfortable about talking with anyone from Addison, ya know? I
mean, good news travels fast, and bad news travels even faster. I
didn't want people in my business, Alan, that's all," explained the
teen convincingly.

"I see. Well, c'mon then. You know I won't be spreading the news
around, right? Let's go on back to the counseling room, and we
can talk. Catch me up on things too. How's your mom and sister
doing, Tommy?"

Skinner looked at Riichi and James. "Friend of the family?" he
questioned.

Riichi had been wondering what it was about the conversation that
was niggling at him. There was something he was missing, and he
just couldn't figure out what it was.

The agents quieted down as they heard Tommy and the counselor
begin to converse again.

"Alana's doing okay at college. I kind of miss having her around,
especially since __. Well, you know. She's still seeing Eric
Barton, and I guess they plan on getting married some day when
they graduate.

"Mom's doing pretty well. She's got her good days and her bad
days, but the bad days aren't even so bad anymore. She's started to
go out with her friends again. You know, like a movie or shopping
at the mall. Stuff like that," Tommy shared.

"And what about you, Tommy? How are you doing, Son?"
Counselor Al asked earnestly.

Tommy shuddered when he heard him call him that. For some
reason, when AD Skinner had referred to him like that earlier, it
didn't hold the same sense of foreboding as it did just then when
Alan called him 'Son'."

"I'm doing okay, I guess. But I suppose I could be doing better,
which is why I'm here. I guess," he replied in typical, insecure teen
speak.

"Well, then why don't we begin," Alan said.

And so, Tommy shared the details of the carefully planned story the
FBI agents and he had agreed on. Most of it was based upon
Tommy's own history, as there would be less of chance of him
tripping over his words.

The one major difference was Tommy was going to change his
family's reactions to him and his lifestyle. Now that his Dad was
gone, Tommy was going to state his mother and sister were more
and more uncomfortable with his sexual orientation, and he was
feeling a little insecure. A little lost.

Counselor Al listened with a sympathetic ear, and uttered an
occasional encouraging word to continue. Finally, as an hour had
passed by, Alan suggested they pick this conversation up over a bite
to eat. "I'll give you a ride home, Tommy. It's not as if I don't
remember the way back to your house," he said with a forced
chuckle.

"Eat?" the youngster repeated.

"Tommy, you're fifteen years old. All fifteen year olds do is eat,
right? C'mon, it's not like you don't know me,'' he urged.

"Umm, sure, but I should call Mom, you know? I mean she was
going to come and pick me up."

"No problem. I have a cellular in my car. C'mon."

Skinner, Obayashi, and Albright were listening to the exchange
through the wire on Tommy Martin's chest. They became more and
more uneasy with the turn of events. Something wasn't right.

Who the hell was this guy?

And as the two figures walked out the front door, they got their
answer.

"Holy shit!" cried out Riichi. "It's the CPD officer. The guy who
interviewed Riley, the cab driver. The guy on the God damned
Task Force!"

"I don't like this," Skinner growled and Albright was quick to agree.

"I gotta check something out," said Albright as he dialed on one of
the cell phones inside the van.

"Make sure we stay right on this bastard's ass, do you hear? Don't
lose him. Don't you lose this sonofabitch!"

Riichi pulled out of the spot shortly after Alan Tripp pulled out his
parking space. As he did so, Albright clicked off his cell, having
just completed his conversation with the records division.

"I think we've got our UNSUB," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Skinner asked.

"Because Tommy Martin is going out for a bite with his Dad's
former partner," Albright answered.

"What?" Riichi asked as he tried to concentrate on following the car
and on the dialogue inside their van.

"George Martin's partner, at the time of his death, was none other
than Alan Tripp."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riichi was having an even harder time taking in what the SAC has
just said. "If Tripp was Martin's partner, that would explain why
he took Mulder. The resemblance is uncanny."

"And it also explains how he connected with boys from various
neighborhoods and backgrounds. We can go back now, get a court
order to open up the records of the counseling center."

"Chances are they don't keep full names and addresses, for
confidentiality," Riichi was muttering.

"But they can identify the pictures of the kids, and maybe someone
would be willing to testify if Al Tripp had been in contact with the
boys," Walter added. "Riichi, watch the intersection, he could turn
left up there."

Riichi was staring hard at the road ahead, but managing to keep
two cars behind Tripp's vehicle. "Should we put out an All
Points?"

"It's a cop's car, he probably has a police band in there. He'd
know we were on him in a minute," Walter said, dismissing the
idea. "No, we're going to have to tail him and see what falls out."

"What if he makes his move before then?" Albright asked, eyes
focused as the two other men, on the drama unfolding in the blue
sedan two cars ahead.

"We take him out. We get right behind him and blow the tires.
Whatever, we can't let anything happen to that boy, not after all
he's been through," Walter hissed. The other men fell silent.

They drove for several miles. Tripp turned off on to the Stevenson
Expressway going south. "Not the way to Addison that I
remember," Walter commented.

"It's not," Albright agreed. "Speed up, Obayashi. It's easier to
pull a fast one on an interstate."

Riichi complied. "I don't think he sees the tail, sir," he said,
drawing a deep breath and hoping he wasn't wrong.

"Just keep out of his direct line of sight. He's a cop, but he's also
in the know on this case. As long as the office doesn't know
what's happening, he doesn't know either."

"Do you think his partner is in on it?" Riichi asked. "Oh, shit, he's
going for the exit!" With a little fast lane changing, and a few horns
blared, Riichi made the exit as well. "Shit, shit, shit! He's made us
for sure!"

"Steady, Riichi, steady. Just keep on him. They're still just talking.
Tommy doesn't even sound that nervous," Walter said as he
listened to the conversation from the other car by way of the
concealed microphone Tommy had worn. "I think they're heading
for a park or something? Albright, is there a park near here?"

"Forest Preserve is right up here. They could be heading there. It's
pretty secluded, especially in the winter."

"Which side of the road?" Riichi asked.

"Both," Albright said with a grimace. "This road goes right smack
through the middle of it."

"Left, Obayashi! Left!" Walter shouted and put his hand up to
keep from bumping Riichi as the car swerved left.

"Slow down, try to stay back." Riichi looked at Walter like he'd
just grown a second head, but complied with the order.

The blue car slowed, in accordance with the speed limit of the
Forest Preserve, and turned right into a heavily wooded area. By
the time Riichi made the turn, the car was gone. "What the hell?"

"There are little picnic areas all over this place. Each one is pretty
secluded. Like I said, it's the perfect spot," Albright told them,
shaking his head. "Wait, back up!"

Riichi put the car into reverse and backed slowly down the main
road. Albright scanned the trees, looking intensely to the left,
Walter looked to the right. Finally, Walter called out. "They're
over there. The car is over there," pointing down a narrow path
that was little more than a service road.

"They're on foot," Skinner said, but he was stating the obviously.
Fortunately, the snow made it easy to follow the lonely tracks, one
set of sneakers and the other a set of cheap wing tips, into the
heavy woods beyond the little clearing. Skinner unclipped his gun
and brought it forward, the two other men followed suit.
"Careful," Skinner whispered. "We don't want this to go bad."

The track through the woods crossed a little stream. Ahead, there
was a heavy growth of underbrush that made it hard to see. As
they approached, Skinner held up his hand. He could hear them
talking.

"Al, c'mon Al. You know how worried Mom gets when I'm out
too late," Tommy was saying, and Skinner could tell the boy was
now seriously frightened.

"You're with me, Tommy. Everything will be OK. I don't know
why George never said anything. But then, you probably didn't tell
him, did you? You kept it a secret from him. That's wrong, you
know. It only makes things worse."

"Al, I'm cold. It's getting dark. I think we ought to go home,
now," Tommy pleaded.

Skinner winced at the fear in the boy's voice. They were so close.
But so far, Tripp had done nothing wrong. It was such a fine line
they were walking, waiting for the right 'threatening action' that
did not result in harm. They needed a clean bust, not one that
would be misinterpreted in the 'police friendly' Chicago Seventh
Circuit courts. He closed his eyes and gripped is gun tighter in his
fist. Just a few more minutes, just a few more.

From his spot closer to the underbrush, Riichi could see the two
figures. Tommy, with his back toward him, and Tripp, facing him,
but looking only at Tommy. There was about three feet separating
the two, Tripp kept talking and Tommy was instinctively taking
small steps backward. The three men watching and listening and
waiting in the underbrush held their breaths and prayed.

"It's got to end, Tommy. You can't let it go on. It's no good. It's
evil. You can see that, can't you?"

Tommy wasn't even bothering with words now, he was just
breathing heavily, glancing around him, wondering if anyone was
going to be able to end his nightmare.

"What are you looking for, Tommy? We're all alone. Just the two
of us. All alone." Tripp advanced in the boy, his hand coming up
to reveal a thin piece of wire, about two and a half feet long.
Tommy was backing up and stumbled over a fallen limb, landing
hard on his backside. Tripp was right on top of the boy.

A single gun shot ripped through the darkening night. Tripp
stumbled, looked confused. Blood seemed to magically appear to
the right of buttons of his overcoat. His eyes looked in wonder at
Tommy, and then he sank to his knees and fell forward.

For several seconds, Skinner didn't dare move. He glanced at the
two men with him, he was certain neither of them had fired the
shot. His own gun was still unfired in his hand, but he checked it
anyway. A sound of footsteps, approaching quickly through the
brush, caused him to whirl around, gun aimed.

"Put the gun down, Mr. Skinner. It's all over." Jeff Randal
stepped out of the brush, lowering his weapon. He was talking to
the AD, but hadn't taken his eyes off the man on the ground.

"Randal! What the fuck do you think you were doing?" demanded
Albright. Riichi had clambered over the vines and brambles and
was now on his knees next to Tripp.

"I couldn't let it go on. I figured it out last night. Then, I found
out you'd talked to the Martins. I've been following Al since this
morning. By the way, you've got a good driver, but you need to
work on handling expressway tailing," Randal said, holstering his
weapon. "Is he dead?"

Riichi was feeling for a pulse. "No, he's alive. Barely. You hit him
square in the chest," he accused.

"Couldn't risk just wounding him. He would have gone for the kid.
It wasn't his fault, not entirely. It was a compulsion with him. I
know Al. He never would have hurt George's kid. Not if he'd
been anywhere near his right mind." He drew in a deep breath,
shaking his head sadly. "It was bad enough to lose George. The
Captain's gonna scream bloody murder to lose both of them."

Skinner could hear Obayashi calling 911 and suddenly remembered
there was another witness to the drama. Tommy was standing,
wide-eyed and shivering, just a few feet from wounded man.

"He was gonna kill me," he was muttering. "Al used to play ball
with me. He bought me my first 'Spawn' comic when my Mom
said I should be reading 'real books' and not comics." Tears were
flowing down his face and Skinner took off his coat and wrapped it
around the boy.

"It's all right, Tommy. It's going to be all right. I'll call your
Mom, tell her that you're all right. Then we'll take you home."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the reality of the
situation came crashing home to Walter Skinner. Their best hope
of finding his son-in-law was now unconscious, and might never
wake up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder looked forlornly out of the broken, basement
window and saw what he believed were street lights in the
distance. They reminded him of the lights he was supposed
to be kindling with his family.

*So much for my miracle,* he thought to himself.

"Oy, Fox, you don't think there's any more miracles left?"

"Nana," he croaked. "I want to go home. I want to share
the story of the miracle of Hanukkah, but I can't. Nana,
help me. I can't do this anymore."

"Fox, you can. You must!" she replied adamently. "You
have to make the miracle happen, like they do in the days
of the Maccabees."

"I don't think I need eight days worth of oil, Nana," he replied c
ynically.

"So, you think that's the great miracle Jews celebrate at this
time of year?" asked Nana.

"Isn't it?" asked a contrite Mulder. "The oil lasted seven more
days then it was supposed to. That was a miracle."

"Yes, well, sweetheart, I have it on good authority that particular
miracle is more like a little fairy tale that's been exaggerated as
it's been passed down through the ages. The oil is more of a
symbol of the real miracle."

"What real miracle, Nana? What are you talking about?" Mulder
asked confused.

"The miracle of overcoming tremendous odds. Sweetheart, the
Maccabees should never have even _considered _ challenging
Antiochus, much less actually fighting him. They were a small,
inexperienced group; not even big enough to be considered
an army. But they believed in themselves and their right to believe
in their God. They believed in themselves, Fox, and for that, they won.
That was the miracle.

"Shayner boychikel," Nana continued gently, "you must create your
own Hanukkah miracle. You must believe in yourself. Believe you
can survive this, and you will. God will hear your prayers, Fox."

Fox felt something inside him snap. He was in pain, and he was
scared, and though it never his intent to hurt his Nana, he felt
driven to question her unshakable belief in God.

"Like He heard my prayers when Sam was taken? Like He heard
them when my father beat me to a pulp because he blamed me
for something that was more than likely his doing? Like He heard
my prayers when my mother chose to not love me, because I was
the one supposed to be taken?" he said, his face contorted in anger
and frustration.

"But you didn't believe then with the same strength and conviction
you do now, Foxila. Trust yourself. Trust in yourself and in your
beliefs."

Mulder felt his shoulders suddenly sag. He was tired. He was
exhausted, and the lights in the distance seemed to move further
and further away.

"I don't know if I can, Nana. I'm so tired, and everything hurts
so much." Mulder paused for a moment and then took as
deep a breath as he dared, because the pain was becoming
more and more unbearable as each hour passed. "Nana?"
he cried out. "Nana, I'm scared. I'm scared my Scully can't
find me. Why can't she find me?"

"She's coming, shayner aynekel. She's coming. Be strong.
Have faith, and believe in her; believe in yourself," Nana said
as her image shimmered into nothingness.

"Nana, I don't know if I can make a miracle," he whispered in
the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She kept hearing odd sounds. She wondered if these sounds could
be a clue. A clue as to where this bastard was holding her now very
hurt, very ill grandson.

"Fox?" she called out gently so as not to startle him.

"Mmmmm," he groaned. He was having difficulty staying
conscious at this point. He was running a high fever now, and he
was seriously dehydrated. His throat felt like it was made of
sandpaper, and his head pounded like a jackhammer on high speed.
It was his leg, however, that was causing him the most pain at this
point. It was definitely broken; even Mulder realized that, and it
would definitely need surgery to put it all back together again.

He heard someone calling him, but he didn't want to answer. It
took way too much energy to respond to voices now.

"Foxila? You hear me, shayner boychik?" she called out a little
more forcefully.

Nana. His nana was here again and as much as Mulder knew she
wanted to help, he realized she couldn't. If she could, she would
have brought his Scully to him by now. He knew it was hopeless;
he knew if Scully ever did find him, it would be too late.

*I'm sorry, Scully,* he thought helplessly. *I'm sorry I couldn't
hang on for you and Adam. And for Dawn,* he lamented sadly for
the baby he'd never really gotten a chance to know.

He felt all of his strength being sapped from him. He'd never given
up before. During all those times in the past when he'd found
himself in dire straits, he'd never once given up that Scully wouldn't
find him. But now, he wasn't sure he could hold on any longer.

He was so tired, and everything hurt so much. He just wanted to
go into a deep, deep sleep, away from all of the pain.

"Fox, you've got to help me figure out where we are, sweet boy.
Listen to me! Please aynekel , wake up! Wake up for Nana, and
help me figure out where we are so I can tell them. Help me, Fox,"
Nana pleaded.

Through much effort, Mulder opened his eyes. She wasn't going to
let him sleep. "Nana, sleep," he moaned.

"NO! Fox, no more sleeping for now! We have to figure out where
we are. You need to get out of here so you can celebrate
Hanukkah with Adam and Dawn! Don't you remember?" she asked
in desperation.

"Hanukkah? Candles. I was supposed to light the candles with
Adam. I missed it, didn't I?" he asked sadly.

"No, no dear man, you didn't miss it. You still have time, I swear
to you! But we have to figure out where this dark place is, so I can
tell them," she said quickly.

"Nana?" he asked anxiously. "Where's my book?"

"Book?"

"Oh, no! I lost the book," he whimpered, both for his loss and his
pain.

"What book, shayner aynekel?"

"My Hanukkah book. I was going to read the prayers with Adam,
and we were going to play the games. But it's gone," he grieved,
and closed his eyes in mourning.

Nana was becoming desperate. Her grandson was giving up on life,
and she needed to show him he still had a chance. But she needed
his help to give him that chance. For whatever reason, she couldn't
go but from Adam's presence to Mulder's presence. No one else
could see her during this time in the Mulders' lives.

She had to show Fox he had the faith to keep going, but how?
Then she saw her answer. In the corner of the darkness, laying next
to the coat Mulder arrived in, was a patch of blue. Nana used all of
her energy to pick it up and carry it over to where Mulder laid with
his leg misaligned, and his body ravaged with fever.

"Look, Fox. Look what I found," she cajoled as she placed the
blue paperback book in his hands.

"Oh, Nana, you found it. You found Adam's book. Thank you,
Nana. You found my Hanukkah," he said with genuine gratitude.

"Now we have to figure out where we are so you can share it with
your beauty-ful veib, zun, and tochter," she responded with
renewed vigor. "Help me, Foxila, help me understand what I am
seeing; what I am hearing," she said.

"I don't know, Nana. It's hard for me to hear anything," he said
coughing as if he needed to emphasize just how congested he was.
"My head is pounding so much, and my chest hurts. It's hard to
breathe, Nana. It's really harder to breathe now," he confessed.

"Oy, I know mine grandson. I know. But listen, do you hear that?
It's a kind of pounding. Up and down, up and down, up and down!
Do you hear that?" she asked excitedly.

When she looked at her grandson, though, her smile turned upside
down. The fever and the pain was becoming too much for him.
She saw he'd clutched the Hanukkah book to his heart before he
passed out. Her poor Fox. Nana realized she would have to be the
detective in the family. She would have to look around and listen
ever so carefully, and then report her findings to the one person
who could see her. Adam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a different room, and obviously not the new house the
Mulders had only moved into three months or so ago. No, this was
very definitely a different room, and in fact, Nana could sense it was
in a different place. It didn't take nearly as much effort to find
Adam here.

"Hi, Nana. I told Mommy we should come to Chicago, and she
listened to me. Well, to us. I told her you told us to come, and we
did. Did you see Daddy today?" asked a quizzical Adam.

"Yes, Adam, yes I saw your daddy today."

"Is he coming home now?" asked Adam.

"No, not yet, but soon. Listen sweet boychikel, I need you to listen
to me carefully. So, so carefully. Can you do that for me
ur-aynekel? If we want to help your daddy, then you have to listen
to what I have to say, so you can tell your mommy. Do you
understand?"

When the child nodded, Nana could not help but gaze in
amazement at the similarities between this small wonder and her
own little Fox when he was Adam's age. The serious expression
Adam now wore was identical the one Fox wore on so many
occasions.

"Good. Now I'm going to tell you what I saw and what I heard in
this place where your Daddy is. It is the clues I found, yes? And
we are the detectives to help find your daddy, no?"

Adam nodded enthusiastically and with a smile. He could be a
detective; no, he was going to be an FBI agent just like his mommy
and daddy. He was going to help his mommy find Daddy. "Tell me
what you see'd, Nana?" he directed, oh so seriously again.

"Well, it was so dark down there. No light, and so it was very, very
hard to see anything very clearly, you know? So I did not see
everything, but I did see tables. Many, many folding tables and
chairs too. It was dusty down there, like no one uses it much.

"I wish I saw more, but it was too dark. I did see some lights from
the window, but they were cracked and it was impossible to see
what the lights were coming from.

"But I also heard things. It was hard to understand these sounds,
because they were muffled. I hear them coming from up above, like
a pounding. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Over and
over and then suddenly it would become very, very fast, and then it
would be silent. Then, I'd hear voices raised. I couldn't tell if they
were happy or angry. What is that, do you think?" asked Nana.

"I don't know, Nana, but I'll ask Mommy. You wanna come with
me? She's plugged into Dawnie again," he offered with only the
slightest hint of resentment. Adam was an FBI agent now, and he
couldn't allow a little thing like Mommy needing to feed Dawn get
in his way of saving Daddy.

"I don't know if I can, ur-aynekel. Maybe, if I follow you, I can."
And Nana did just that, and for whatever reason, Scully could not
see Nana, but Nana could see Dana. And her great grand-daughter,
Dawn.

"Oy, mine beauty-ful Dawn. Such beauty-ful children my Fox any
your mommy make, Adam!" she cried out in sheer joy.

"Thank you, Nana," Adam said.

Scully practically jumped out of her chair. "What did you say,
Adam?"

"I said thank you to Nana, 'cause she says you and Daddy make
'beauty-ful' babies," he said as he mimicked his great-grandmother's
accent.

Nana looked around desperately, for she knew Nana was indeed
present simply by the way Adam pronounced the word 'beautiful.'
Only Nana ever said it as 'beauty-ful.'

"Nana? Please, tell me where Fox is," Dana pleaded.

"Adam," Nana responded, "tell your Mommy what I told you. Tell
her quickly."

"Mommy, Nana was a detective and she said I should be a detective
too, but I wanna be a FBI agent like you and Daddy, 'kay?" Scully
nodded her head furiously and urged her son to continue.

"Sweetheart, what else did Nana say?" Dana coaxed, as she no
longer questioned why Nana could only communicate through
Adam. She was grateful for small favors at this point.

"Oh, she said she looked all around, but it was really dark and hard
to see stuff, but she saw lots of tables and chairs and it was very,
very, dusty," Adam reported all the while looking at Nana for
confirmation that he was accurate.

"What else, Adam? What else did Nana tell you?" asked Scully
anxiously. She had a feeling Nana was going to help her save
Mulder's life yet again. She just wished Adam could hurry up a
little bit.

"Oh, well Nana said she could see some lights from the window,
but the windows were cracked and so it was too hard to look out a
broken window."

"Very good, sweetheart," Scully said as she switched Dawn to the
other side to finish feeding. "Did Nana say anything else?"

"Yup," he agreed quickly, but when he neglected to continue,
Scully became slightly agitated.

"Adam! Hurry up! Please!" Dana shouted,which not only
upset Adam, but Dawn as well. the baby started crying
and Adam backed up, wide eyed, staring at his mother.
"Oh, Adam, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be cross with you.
You are being a wonderful FBI agent, and Mommy is too
impatient. Now, please, tell me what else Nana saw," she said
contritely as she urged Dawn to latch back on to finish feeding.

"Not 'sawed', Mommy. _Heard_!" he corrected.

"Oh, well what did Nana hear?" she asked and listened to his recital
of Nana's description of the pounding sounds in both a rhythmical
staccato and rapid fire successions. He also remembered to tell
about the voices getting louder, though he said Nana wasn't sure if
they were happy or angry voices.

When Adam had finished, Scully remained very quiet. She knew
the perpetrator was a cop. It could have been in a firing range, the
pounding sounds being the reverberations of guns being fired.

It could have been in music or dance studio. It could have been in
the basement of a school gymnasium. A gym. A game. Basketball.
Nana heard a basketball game.

Ohmigod. He's been right under our noses all this time. Where
would Alan Tripp take him? Where he could be certain of having
access to him.

Oh God, she had to contact Walter. She had to get to him. She
had to get to Mulder.

"Adam," she said as calmly as she could, "go knock on the door to
your Gam-ma's room. I need her to come here right now."

"Did we do it, Mommy?" the little boy asked excitedly. "Did we
help you figure out where Daddy is?"

"I think so, Adam. Tell your Nana thank you for me, okay? Tell
her I love her very much, and I wish I could give her a great big
hug and a kiss."

"She can hear you, Mommy," he responded as he ran to knock on
the second bedroom in the hotel suite.

Maggie opened the door and saw the excited look in Adam's eyes.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Nana was a good detective an' I was a good FBI agent and
Mommy's gonna rescue Daddy, so we needs you to be here to
watch Dawnie," explained Adam.

"Umm, not just Dawnie, big guy," warned Scully.

"But Mommy, I'm a FBI agent! I gotta rescue Daddy too," he
whined slightly.

"Oh, but you did your job, Little G-Man, and now it's time for
backup," she replied earnestly as she knelt down and gave him a
hug. "You and Nana did really well, Adam. I am so proud of you!
And Daddy is going to be so proud of you too."

Scully stood up and saw the questioning look in her mother's face.
She held up her hand to Maggie as if to say 'hold on one minute'
and picked up the phone to dial Skinner's cellular.

"Skinner."

"Where are you?" Scully asked.

"Just about to leave the Forest Preserve. We're just waiting for the
ambulance to leave with the perp. He was shot by his partner,
Scully. I'm sorry. The man's unconscious, and I don't know if he'll
regain consciousness in time to tell us where Mulder is," Skinner
recounted pessimistically.

"It doesn't matter," she replied.

"What?"

"I'm going to meet you back at the Teen Center. Call for an
ambulance to meet us there. Hurry!" Scully practically ordered.

"The Teen Center? Scully we were there earlier. What are you
talking about?" the AD asked in confusion.

"Walter, he's been right under our noses. I think_, no, I _KNOW_
he's in the Teen Center. I would guess the basement. I should be
there in about ten minutes. Call for an ambulance, now, Sir."

Walter knew Dana meant business when she reverted back to
calling him, 'Sir,' so he wisely chose the only course of action he
could take. He listened and did as he was told.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the way to the door of the hotel suite, Adam tugged on Dana's
shirt tail. "Mommy, please, I'm a agent, too. Let me go, too," he
pleaded.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," she said, turning around and stooping
down to be eye to eye with her son. The thought flashed through
her mind that it wouldn't be too long before he'd be stooping down
to see eye to eye with her. She brushed the thought aside as she
looked into his pleading face. So much like her Fox . . .

"Adam, I have to ask you to do something that is very, very
difficult. It's really hard, but I know you can do it. Will you be a
good agent, and accept this assignment?" She knew she might be
losing him with the 'jargon', but she also knew her son was more
'sponge' than boy and understood far more than they gave him
credit for.

He looked at her seriously, and nodded, slowly. "I 'cept it,
Mommy. Just like you 'cept what Gam-pa tells you to do at work."

She smiled. He did understand. "Exactly. Just like Daddy and I
accept assignments from Gam-pa at work. But this is a tough
assignment, Adam. Are you sure you're up for it?"

Again, the confident nod. "Yup, Mommy. I can do it."

"OK. I want you to stay and guard Grandma and Dawnie. I need
you to set up surveillance, that means you'll be waiting by the
phone. And as soon as I call, you have to help Grandma get Dawn
ready and come to meet me."

"And Daddy?" the little boy asked hopefully.

Dana swallowed past the rock that had suddenly developed in her
throat. "Yes, Agent Adam. Meet me and Daddy."

"You'll be at the hospital, right? Like after Dawnie was born?"

Dana hated the fact that Adam was that much aware of the
situation. "I heard you tell Gam-pa to get a 'bambulance'. That's
for Daddy, right? Nana says he's sick, Mommy. He needs to go to
the hospital. But Gam-ma and Dawnie and me can go there and see
him, can't we?"

"That is exactly what you can do, Adam. Now, do you still accept
your assignment?"

Adam beamed and stood up straight and tall. "I 'cept it!" He
started to turn, then stopped and grabbed her hand again.
"Mommy, do you and Daddy salute Gam-pa when you 'cept
'signments? Like they do on TV?"

The humor of the situation was not lost on Dana. She couldn't
stop the giggle of laughter that caught her son by surprise. "Only
when your Daddy is in a _very_ dangerous mood, Sweetheart.
Now, Mommy has to go. You get set up by the phone and wait for
my call, all right?"

Her cell phone was burning in her ear as she drove. She'd called
the Bureau office to find the location and directions to the Teen
Center. Then she'd called Walter back, to make certain someone
had called for a search warrant for the premises, assuming there
might be some resistance. And finally, she'd called back to the
office, to double check on the arrangements for the warrant.

"Now, I know why I let you drive all the time, Mulder. It's too
damned hard to dial and drive at the same time," she said to the
empty car interior as she sped toward the Teen Center, located near
the University of Chicago in the Hyde Park area of Chicago.

Traffic was with her and she arrived just as Skinner, Riichi and
Albright pulled up. Walter got out of the car, waving a document
in his hands. "I believe you were concerned about this, Agent
Scully," he said with a wry smile.

Dana allowed a sheepish grin to cross her face. "Just having a hard
time delegating, sir. Uh, thank you for picking that up, by the
way."

"Not a problem, and good thinking. Now, where the hell do we
start looking?"

Dana surveyed the building. It was set in a park, one of the many
that were built in the city for the 1892 and later the 1933 World's
Fairs. The building was definitely from the thirties and displayed a
beautiful frieze design in the guttering and the tracings of Frank
Lloyd Wright in the general form of it's single story.

"Where's the basement?" she asked. The building didn't seem to
sport any windows under the first floor. It was built on
cinder block.

"He's in a basement?" Skinner asked as the foursome walked
toward the doors.

"That's what Nana said. She couldn't see out the broken
windows," Dana said with a shake of her head.

"Wait a minute," Riichi interrupted. "Did you just say 'Nana'? As
in Mulder's grandmother 'Nana'?"

Dana nodded. Riichi turned a little paler. "Shit," he muttered and
hurried up his steps to pull open the door.

"How would Mulder's grandmother know where he was being
kept?" Albright asked, confused.

"It's a long story and one that takes a whole lot of brandy to
understand," Walter explained. "For now, let's just say it's as close
to hard surveillance as we can get."

There was a young woman at the reception desk, reading the latest
John Grisham paperback. She looked up at the approaching agents.
"May I help you?" she asked expertly.

"Yes," said Dana, taking the lead. None of the three men with her
even thought to upstage her. This was very much her show. "I am
Special Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner, Agents
Albright and Obayashi from the FBI. We have a warrant to search
the premises. We have reason to believe that a federal agent is
being held against his will somewhere in this building. If you would
accompany us and provide us with the appropriate keys for locked
rooms?"

The young woman blanched and nodded nervously. "Uh, can I call
Lenny? He's the building supervisor?"

Dana sighed. She should have thought of that. "Yes, of course.
But please, we are in a hurry. We have reason to believe the agent
in question is injured and requires medical treatment." As if to
underscore her statement, sirens could be heard pulling up the road
to the Center.

"Lenny!" the young woman screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Lenny, get out here, NOW!" Then, after a second, she blushed
and added "Please."

A tall, aging black man with a disgruntled expression came out of
one of the offices. "Teresa, you don't have to yell," he huffed.
"We have an intercom system, ya know," he said, pointing to the
phone. Then he noticed the crowd in front of the desk. "Can I help
you folks?"

Dana repeated her spiel and Lenny, for his part, got as wide eyed as
young Teresa. "Sure, sure, I'll help ya. Just tell me where to go? I
can have you check all the offices, and of course, there's the video
room and the conference room down the hall . . ."

"We need to see the basement," Dana said, following after Lenny
with the three men trailing behind her.

Lenny pulled up short. "Well, that's gonna be a problem." He
turned around and shook his head. "This building don't have a
basement. It was built on a crawl space."

Dana thought hard to what Adam had told her. Nana had told him
basement. She doubted that Adam would have forgotten a phrase
like 'crawl space'. He would have thought that was funny. But
would Nana, sweet, innocent Eastern European Nana, know the
difference between a crawl space and a basement? Then, Dana
remembered the other part of the puzzle.

"It's under the gym."

Lenny bit his upper lip in consternation. "Well, then we _really_
got problems. We definitely don't have a gym. Sorry. You must
have the wrong building," he said sadly.

"No, no, that's not possible," Dana said, breathlessly and taking
steps backward until she bumped right into her father-in-law. "No,
Nana wouldn't lie. He's here, he has to be here," she said, turning
and searching Walter's face. "He's here, Walter, he's here."

Regardless of protocol, Walter took his daughter-in-law into a hug,
holding her shaking body against his. "I know we wanted him to
be, Dana. But it looks like this isn't the place. We just have to
keep looking." He looked over to Albright and Obayashi, who
were wearing matching disconcerted looks. Everyone understood
just how impossible that task was going to be. "Come on. Let's go
outside that think this through."

They were halfway down the hall when Lenny let out a whistle.

"Hey! Did you say it was a basement under a gym you're looking
for?" he asked, running to catch up with the group.

Walter didn't trust his voice to speak, so he just nodded. Lenny
continued, "Well, we have an arrangement with the University.
We let their students use our video room and they let our kids use
one of their old gyms. It's just up the road. C'mere. You can see
it through the trees."

He led them outside and pointed to the south. Sure enough, there
was a red brick building, with high windows and just visible low to
the ground windows, just about a city block's distance away.

Lenny was still talking. "The University don't use it much these
days. They built a new 'sports complex' a couple of years ago.
Most of the kids goin' there are all 'eggheads' anyway," he
chucked. "Not like when they were the 'monsters of the midway'."

"I thought that was the Bears," Obayashi muttered, but shook
himself back from such mental wanderings. "I'll go send the
ambulance over there. I'll meet you three over there." He was
yelling at their backs, since Dana, Skinner and Albright had already
broken out into a run across the frozen park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder didn't think he'd ever been as cold in his life. He
remembered shivering under the lights of an abandoned submarine,
dying of hypothermia, and still, he hadn't been as cold. He tried to
draw in a breath, but it caught in his throat and his chest shuddered
into a coughing spasm.

Dana, his mind screamed. He wished he could say her name aloud,
as if that mere action would bring her to him. He knew Nana was
trying, but for a close to hundred year old ghost, Nana had some
limitations. Few, but some.

He thought for a moment of his last memory of his home and
family. Dana, standing at the door, holding back tears that he knew
would be shed the moment his back was turned and the door was
shut behind him. Adam, running a Match box car along the wooden
dining room floor. Baby Dawn in her bouncy seat, her fist tucked
close to her mouth, sucking on the knuckle of her baby thumb for
all it was worth and drooling down onto her Winnie the Pooh bib.
He loved them so much. He was going to miss them so much.

*Nana, do you miss people when you get to heaven,* he thought.

"No, mine Foxila. It is so beauty-ful there. But you can't go to
the afterlife, the Olam, right now. You have a son to raise and
a daughter to walk down the aisle and give to another man
someday. You have a veib to love and more little ones to give
her, maybe, too, nu? You have much work to do here on earth.
You aren't ready for Olam, yet."

I'm so tired, Nana. I want to raise Adam. I don't want to give
Dawn away to anyone, but I'll let her love someone some day. And
yes, I want to love Dana. I want to live with Dana until we're both
too old to walk, and we can move to Florida or California, and the
kids can bring their kids to visit us and their kids' kids. I want that,
Nana. I want that.

"Then hold on, Fox. They are on their way. Just hold on a little
longer."

He could feel her hand on his forehead as he drifted off to sleep. "I
have to hold on," he whispered, and his breath made little clouds in
the freezing air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana made it to the door of the massive brick building ahead of the
others. She grabbed at the handle and pulled at it violently. It held
firm.

"Damn it!" she wailed and pounded on the heavy oak doors. "We
forgot to get the keys from Lenny!"

"Step aside, Agent Scully," Albright said and pulled a small device
out of his trenchcoat pocket. At Dana's amazed look, he smiled.
"What? You thought _you_ were the only field agent to carry one
of these babies?" He deftly handled the lockpick and the door
opened with ease before them.

"The basement. Where the hell are the stairs?" Dana cried out, as
Albright stopped long enough to find the light switch and send the
building into bright illumination.

"Over there," Riichi, who had just joined them, pointed to the old
marble steps with their wooden and wrought iron bannister. They
ran quickly to them and took the stairs two at a time.

Dana reached the bottom just after Walter. There was another
door and yet another lock, but this was a padlock, and looked new.
He took out a latex glove to shield the lock and Albright used his
magic lockpick yet again.

"Keep that for evidence. I'm sure we'll find Tripp's prints on it,"
Skinner said over his shoulder and Riichi quickly complied.

Dana had already taken out a flashlight. Albright found a light
switch near the door, but it was broken. He took out his own
flashlight and followed Dana into the darkness.

The room was large and very cold. The windows that lined the low
ceiling were broken out, only the ornamental ironwork on the
outside of the building keeping animal life and vagrants out of the
basement. Dana could easily understand why Nana would have had
a hard time seeing out the windows. She used her light to scan the
floor.

The room was empty.

Her heart sank. "Not again," she muttered and felt a warm and
familiar presence come up behind her and put a comforting hand on
her shoulder.

"Just relax, Scully. Keep your head. We'll find him."

"Hey," Riichi said suddenly, standing toward the middle of the
room. "There's another room over there." He flashed his light
over to a far wall. The wall wasn't made of brick, as was the rest
of the basement, but was wooden.

"The boiler room, I'll bet," Albright said, taking strides to reach the
door. Once again, the lockpick was required and the old wooden
door swung open on rusty hinges.

Albright was in the room in one step and flashed his light around.
"Holy Mother," he said loudly. "Obayashi, get those paramedics
down here. Fast!"

Dana pushed past him. She ran over to the huddled mass on the
floor. Peeling back three thread bare woolen blankets, she found
him. She knew he was still alive, she could hear his labored
breathing all the way from the door. She touched his temple and
winced at the heat coming from his body. A quick search down his
form and she took in the way he was clutching his stomach and the
misalignment of his leg.

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed. "Can't you do anything halfway?"

His pale features stirred at the sound of her voice. "Da . . ." He
stopped only because of the coughs that wracked his body. She
helped him up so that he didn't choke on the phlegm in his throat.

"Easy, Fox. Easy. Well, initial triage points to advanced case of
pneumonia, definite broken leg . . . possible internal injuries.
You're on your way to the hospital again, Sweetheart. Good thing
I brought my wallet with our insurance card, isn't it?" Her words
were light, but were there only to hide her deep concern. She
didn't like the blue color to his lips, nor did she like the thready
pulse she found at his neck. She would have committed high
treason for a blood pressure cuff at that moment. Fortunately, she
didn't have to.

The paramedics were heard banging down the stairs long before
they actually arrived. Albright and Skinner moved out of their way
to give them room, but Dana stayed right where she was.

"I'm a medical doctor. I'm also his next of kin. He has breathing
difficulties, possible internal injuries. Severely dehydrated, start
saline full out. Broken leg needs to splinted for transport."

The EMTs looked at her with barely concealed disdain, but
followed her orders. As they hooked the IV and splinted the leg,
one of their members contacted base. "We're closest to UCMC,"
the young man said. "ETA just under ten minutes." He looked up
at Scully. "We're taking your 'next of kin' to the University of
Chicago Medical Center. It's just five blocks up the street. Go to
the emergency entrance, they'll direct you to admissions."

Dana caught him by the sleeve. "No, I'm going with you," she
stated flatly.

He rolled his eyes and nodded to his companions to go on up
without him. "Look, lady, we don't have time for this. Your friend
doesn't have time for this. We do not take passengers. End of
sentence."

"You're about to make an exception," she growled and pulled back
her coat enough to reveal her service weapon.

Skinner saw that as the moment to intervene. "She's already told
you she's a trained medical doctor. I would think you would want
her along for the ride. Just in case." He flipped his badge in the
man's face. "The patient is an FBI agent who has been abducted
and injured in the line of duty. He requires a guard at all times. I'm
assigning _her_ to the case," he said, pointing to Scully. She
beamed her gratefulness.

The EMT sighed. "OK, but you stay to the side and do _not_ get
in our way," he told her fiercely. In seconds they were all loaded in
the ambulance and on the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie held onto Adam's hand tightly with one hand while she
wheeled the baby's stroller with the other through the hospital
corridor. She felt her purse and the diaper bag slowly falling off of
her shoulder, but she didn't slow up her pace.

When she finally saw the solitary figure, she knew she'd found the
right area. Now, where was her daughter?

"Walter?" she called out softly.

He looked up at her with sad, tired eyes. "Maggie," he whispered.
He didn't move; he simply stood with his shoulders slumped over,
defeated.

"Walter, what is it? Where's Dana? How is Fox?" she asked in
quick, rapid fire succession.

"I don't know if we were quick enough, Maggie," he answered in
reply to the first question. "She's in the emergency trauma room
with him. Fox became very upset when they'd asked her to leave,
so the doctors told her she could stay if she let them do their job,"
he replied to the second question, and to the third he said, "He's not
in good shape, Maggie."

Walter dropped his head momentarily and in his line of vision was a
brown haired, hazel eyed face with an expression that held a million
questions. Walter had to look away. He couldn't look at his
grandson, for fear all of the child's hope would be washed away by
his grandfather's feelings of helplessness.

Maggie sensed this and realized her husband hadn't had enough
time to assimilate everything that had happened. He needed time to
assuage the feelings of fear, guilt, and frustration he now felt.

"Adam," Maggie called gently, " I need you to help me and
Gam-pa. Would you do that for me, Sweetheart?" Maggie knew
the little boy would do anything for Walter, and so she said, softly ,
"I need you to watch your baby sister over there for a little bit.
Mommy is in with Daddy in the examination room, and I need to be
able to talk grown-up talk with Gam-pa for a little while."

"Gam-pa's worried that Daddy's gonna die, isn't he," the little boy
said sadly.

Maggie wanted so desperately to tell her grandchild that he should
erase that ridiculous notion right out of his head, but having seen
Walter's expression, she knew they would both know she was lying.

"Your Gam-pa is worried because Daddy is very sick right now, but
we're all going to pray for him, Adam. You can do that while you
watch Baby Dawn. Would you do that for your Daddy? Would
you do that now, for Gam-pa and me?"

Adam nodded solemnly and walked over to the chairs on the other
side of the room, while Maggie wheeled the stroller over near the
young boy. She knelt down before her grandson and said, "If she
loses her pacifier, you help her find it, okay?" The child agreed,
and Maggie kissed him gently on the cheek. "You are a good big
brother, and you are a good grandson. Thank-you, Adam." She
hugged him once more and was grateful for the child's embrace in
return.

Maggie then stood up and turned her attention to the other man in
her life who needed immediate attention. She walked over to him
quickly and wrapped her arms around his waist. Maggie pulled him
toward her and she murmured, "He'll fight this, Walter. He has so
much to live for; he'll fight this harder than anything he's ever
fought for."

"He was right under our noses the whole time, Maggie," Walter
choked out. "The whole time. Oh God, it was a fucking cop who
did this to him. Someone we're supposed to trust, damn it!" he
lashed out angrily as he pulled away from her.

"Maggie, when I saw that sonofabitch laying there on the ground,
bleeding, all I could think of was he deserved it. He deserved to be
shot for all of the horrific things he'd done. But then I remembered
he was our one link to Mulder, and I wanted to shoot the man who'd
fired the gun.

"I was so scared this sonofabitch was going to die before he told us
where Mulder was. I didn't give a flying fuck what happened to
him after he told us Mulder's location, but I was frightened to death
that his heart would stop before he could tell us.

"I would have beaten it out of him, Maggie. As God is my witness,
I would have broken ever rule of protocol in the book to make that
worthless piece of shit tell me where our son was," Walter said
harshly. "God, Maggie, I wanted to kill the bastard myself. If we
couldn't find Mulder because of that asshole, I would have _____."

"__ But you did find him. You and Dana and the rest of your
agents did their job and you found him. You did your job the best
way you knew how to do. Walter Skinner, don't you dare berate
yourself because you're not omnipotent! You couldn't have known
where that maniac was holding him," Maggie admonished gently.

"Dana knew. Dana knew where this mad man was holding
Mulder," Walter retorted.

"Apparently, she had a little help, my dear," replied Maggie,
cracking a slight smile for the first time since she'd arrived in the
hospital.

"Mmmm-hmmm," he murmured in reply, and for the first time he
allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "A little old
great-grandma played detective and informed one five year old
honorary FBI agent some clues about where his daddy was being
held. When Adam told Dana that Nana had heard rhythmical
pounding on the ceiling and then cheers, Dana thanked her lucky
stars that Mulder had turned her into something of a basketball
junkie."

Maggie looked at him with surprise. "I guess she told you all about
it."

He nodded. "When we first arrived at the hospital, they were able
to do a preliminary work up on him while he was still out cold, so
Dana had the chance to fill me in then. You should have seen the
expressions on the other agents when she _first_ mentioned Nana's
role in this whole rescue mission."

"I can only imagine," Maggie chuckled. "It's not that long ago that
I don't remember my own reaction to the dear woman." She
paused for a moment and noticed Walter's serious expression
reappear.

"Walter, Dana was able to put two and two together and helped
you all to figure out where Fox was being held ," Maggie
concluded. "I don't know if she could have figured it out without
Nana's help, but it doesn't matter. All that matters now is Fox
_was_ found, and he's being taken care of," Maggie insisted.

"I just hope we weren't too late," whispered an anguished Walter.

At that point, Riichi Obayashi walked through the doors of the
waiting room. He saw Adam sitting quietly in the plastic chair and
bent down to give him a quick kiss hello. "Hey big boy! How ya
doing?" he asked.

"Hi, Uncle Riichi. I helped Mommy find my daddy, but Gam-pa
says Daddy is too sick. I think Gam-pa is 'fraid my daddy's going
to die," confessed Adam.

Riichi was horrified with the calmness this small child was able to
discuss his own father's possible demise. But Riichi then realized
how many times in this child's young life Mulder was so close to
dying. Too many times for a five year old to have to live through.
Too many times for a friend and colleague to have to live through
too.

"I know the doctors are doing everything they can to help your
daddy, Adam. Keep praying for him, okay?" Riichi tenderly kissed
the child on the of his head and then paused to gaze at the infant
girl sleeping in the stroller. "She's so tiny, isn't she?" Riichi
murmured aloud.

"Yeah, but I'm watching her, Uncle Riichi, so you can go talk
grownup talk with Gam-ma and Gam-pa," Adam replied so
seriously.

"And you're doing a fine job, Adam. Keep up the good work."
Riichi smiled at the child and walked toward the AD and his wife.

He nodded to both of them and then asked, "Is there any word?"

"No, not yet. Dana is still in the trauma room with him, I think. If
there's any word, they'll come out and tell us, right?" Walter asked,
suddenly anxious. "What the hell is taking them so long?"

"Albright is just about finished helping with the processing of Tripp.
He's going into surgery very shortly, and then the SAC will meet us
here. Sir, we're not sure how to go about dealing with his partner,
Randal, yet. I mean, it's almost as if he were an accessory," Riichi
commented.

"I don't think we have a legitimate case in that direction," Skinner
replied in a more controlled tone as he spoke in the role of AD
rather than father-in-law. "The man apparently didn't have an
active role in the taking of the adolescent boys, and he certainly
didn't have a clue about Tripp's role in Mulder's abduction. That
was obvious when we interviewed him back in the forest."

"Okay, but it seems to me this guy should have had a better handle
on what his partner was up to," Riichi said bitterly.

"Riichi, we can't keep our eyes on our partners for twenty-four
hours a day, now can we?" the AD asked gently, but with a
knowing tone.

Obayashi looked at Skinner and realized exactly where the AD was
going with that comment. He suddenly felt like the biggest loser.
If only _he'd_ been able to do what had been expected of him and
keep an eye on his assigned partner, he wouldn't have to see a five
year old child and his infant sister sitting in a waiting room
wondering if their daddy was going to die.

Both Maggie and Walter noticed the immediate, self-degradating
manner in which Riichi held himself. Maggie immediately reached
out to take Riichi's hand, while at the same time Walter quickly
said, "Riichi, I didn't say that to place blame. In fact, I meant it to
have the opposite effect. I wanted you to realize none of us has the
power to keep a twenty-four hour watch on another person,
especially when they don't want to be watched.

"You did everything that was expected of you while partnered with
Mulder, and don't you dare think any differently. And when it was
time to find Mulder, you worked above and beyond the call of duty
to help find him. You should feel no shame in your role on
this case, Agent Obayashi," the AD said firmly, but then added in a
gentler, more comforting voice, "Riichi, you did a fine job. I would
have wanted no one else but you working this one with me."

"Thank you, Sir. The feeling is mutual." Riichi then looked at
Maggie, who still had a comforting hand on his own and asked, "Is
there any word on Mulder's condition?"

"No, Dear, we're still waiting to hear."

"It's taking a long time, isn't it?" asked Riichi.

"It's always too long when it's the life of someone you love is in the
balance," answered Maggie. "We just have to be patient."

"I should try and call Mashiko. She doesn't know Mulder's been
found yet. I should let her know we at least found him__." Riichi's
nerves were torn completely at this point, and no matter how often
the AD said Riichi shouldn't blame himself, he knew if he'd kept a
closer eye on his partner, his friend, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Obayashi felt his hands begin to shake and his breathing less
controlled. He then began to panic at the possibility he was going
to break down in front of the Assistant Director. This was not
something he wanted to do, and he quickly released his hand from
Maggie's and stood up. "Excuse me. I need to call my wife."

As he rushed out the door, Maggie called to him, "Riichi, please,
it's okay," but he either didn't hear her, or he chose to ignore her.
He ran into the nearest men's room and allowed himself the chance
to sob away all of the frustration and tension he'd been carrying
around with him for the past few days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James Albright entered the room and saw the AD and who he
soon realized was Mrs. Skinner, talking quietly in one corner of the
room, while a young boy sat near a stroller which held an infant
dressed in pinks and yellows.

Shit. Mulder's kids. Oh God, it's his kids. Please, let the guy be all
right. Let him be able to see his kids again.

Albright shuddered when he looked at the little boy again. He was
a Mulder reincarnate, that was for sure. The whole situation had
seemed so surreal the last few days. Albright didn't know whether
he was coming or going, between looking for a crazed serial killer
and looking for Mulder, and not being absolutely sure if the two
cases were related.

But seeing Mulder's kids now, in this hospital, suddenly made it all the
more real. And he found himself suddenly in the need of seeing his
own wife and kissing his own two kids. The only thing that kept
going through his mind over and over was, it could have been him.
It could have been James Albright in that emergency trauma room
and his wife and kids waiting for word in the waiting room.

And that scared the crap out of him. This was certainly a turning
point in James Albright's ability to put things in perspective.
Mulder didn't want to be on this case in the first place, and Albright
knew Mulder had no business being on this case. The man had just
come off another brutal VCU case without a break from that one,
and he was fighting a vicious cold. So, he was not only exhausted
and depleted mentally, he was physically debilitated as well.

And Albright knew it. And Albright chose to look the other way,
because after all, he'd already lost one profiler, and he needed
Mulder to help him catch the sonofabitch that was terrorizing the
fine people of Chicago. Right. More like, he had to help catch the
sonofabitch that was giving the Chicago field office of the FBI a
bad name in the media, because according to the media the FBI
couldn't find their way out of a brown paper bag.

So, even though Albright knew it wasn't in Mulder's best interest to
remain on the case, he kept quiet. After all, Mulder had his own
personal watchdog in Agent Obayashi, who Albright realized
looked like crap when he'd seen him leave the precinct office earlier.
This probably hadn't been a picnic for Obayashi either.

Jeeze, what the hell kind of SAC was he, anyway. Mulder and
Obayashi were personal friends. This must have been a trip through
hell for Obayashi, and he must still be traveling downward.
Albright never thought of himself as insensitive before, but he
wondered if perhaps he should seriously reconsider.

He'd remained planted in the same spot when he'd walked in for
several minutes. He finally looked up, startled, when he heard his
name was called.

"SAC Albright," called Skinner a third time.

"Yes, Sir, I'm sorry. I must have gotten lost in my own thoughts
there for a few minutes," Albright apologized.

"Understandable, Agent. No need for apologies," the AD said and
he then introduced Maggie.

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Ma'am," Albright said,
having remembered he'd actually spoken with Maggie on the phone
when Mulder was first abducted, "though I wish it were under
better circumstances."

"Yes," she agreed, and then offered, "Agent Albright, my husband
has had only the highest praise for your contribution in finding our
son-in-law and solving this horrific case. I would like to extend my
personal thanks as well."

Albright found it difficult to accept her kind words when he knew
he could have done something to prevent the entire debacle from
happening. But he was also wise enough to know Maggie Skinner
should not have to waste her energy in comforting him. Her
husband, daughter, and grandchildren needed that more.

So, instead, he graciously murmured his thanks, and then asked if
there was any word on Mulder's condition. Before anyone could
answer, Riichi returned, and all those in the room judiciously kept
any comments about the very red, tear stained eyes to themselves.

"Did you get a hold of Mashiko, Dear?" asked Maggie gently.

"Yes, Mrs. Skinner. She sends her love and prayers." Both of the
Skinners nodded their thanks.

Just then, a very weary and emotionally drained Dana walked into
the waiting area. She didn't seem to notice everyone in the room,
but Dana did meet her mother's gaze.

"Mom, you're here? The kids __?" Dana asked.

Maggie pointed to the corner where Adam sat with his eyes closed
and his hands pressed together in prayer. His grandmother smiled at
how this child took everything which was told to him to such heart.
Adam was definitely the son of Fox and Dana, there was no doubt
about that.

"I knew Dawn would be due a feeding soon, so I figured it would
be best to simply meet you here," explained Maggie.

"Oh. Yes, that's right. Is she up?" asked Dana in a daze.

"No, honey, she's still sleeping. Sweetheart, tell us how Fox is,"
cajoled Maggie. ''Walter says he was awake enough to know you
were there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albright moved up next to Dana and offered her a cup of coffee.
She smiled, but shook her head. "Dawn would never sleep if I did,"
she said with a sheepish shrug.

"Sorry, forgot for a moment that you're a nursing mom," he said,
slightly embarrassed. "I'll see if they have decaf."

"In a minute, Sir. I thought you might like to know about Fox."

Albright bit his lip and nodded. He had wanted to know, wanted
more than anything to grab the woman and demand any and all
information. But it still took a hell of a woman to acknowledge
that the people in the waiting room were desperate for any news of
what was going on with the man in the trauma room. He was just
beginning to appreciate exactly who Dana Scully was.

"The doctors are prepping him for surgery. Most of this injuries
resulted from one incident. From the various abrasions and bruising,
plus the alignment of the broken bones in his leg, they are fairly
certain that Fox was hit by a car. A car going a nice speed and
hitting him dead on. This was not an accident, by any means."

Maggie gasped, but said nothing. Walter's teeth could be heard
grinding from three feet away.

"His leg is broken, severely. It will require surgery, pins, to keep
the bones in place while they knit. There was bleeding at the sight.
It's not pretty. And it will take a long time to heal. Which will be a
pain, because Fox hates crutches and for a couple of weeks, we
may be talking wheelchair."

Dana wet her lips and looked over at her children. Adam was still
sitting next to Dawn, and though he'd made no move to come over,
Dana knew he was listening to her every word. She would have to
phrase the next part very carefully.

"There was also some internal injury. His kidney was injured, it's
been bleeding slowly over the time he's been in the basement. They
don't know if they'll be able to salvage it." She closed her eyes for
a moment.

"But the worst is the pneumonia. The doctor doesn't like going
into surgery with fluid in the patient's lungs, but there isn't a lot of
choice. They're going to intubate for surgery, and that should help
some. Since they won't be able to use normal anesthesia, they'll use an
epidural which will paralyze the nerves from just below the chest
down. Then they'll sedate him; hopefully it won't take much to put
him to sleep. I just hope the surgery doesn't take very long.

"They're fighting two battles. On the one hand, they need to dry
out his lungs, and at the same time, he's very dehydrated from fever
and lack of liquids during the last 48 hours."

"He's awake?" Walter asked. He didn't dare voice his concerns. It
sounded like all so much bad news to him.

Dana nodded. "Off and on. His fever is high. He keeps asking me
to take him home. He's afraid he's missing Hanukkah. He's told
me three times to get the candles ready, and he finally told me what
I did wrong with the latkes," she said with a sad smile. "I needed
to drain the potatoes, apparently."

"Can we see him?" Maggie asked. At that, Adam came up and
took his grandmother's hand.

"I want to see Daddy now, Mommy. Please? Dawnie's sleepin'.
She'll be good."

Dana was on the verge of tears, but held herself firmly in check. "I
know I promised, big guy, and in a minute, they'll be bringing
Daddy by here to take him up to another room. They have to make
Daddy's leg better and help his tummy. After they fix that, we'll be
able to see him all we want, OK? But we can give him a kiss as
they take him upstairs, all right?"

Adam nodded solemnly, a worried look coming over his eyes.
"Mommy," he whispered, pulling her down to his level again.
"Dawnie might get scared. She'll want Daddy to wake up and use
his magic shoulder and he won't; I remember."

Blinking back the tears was no longer an option. They were falling
down her cheeks whether she wanted them to or not. She took her
son into a fierce hug. "Then we'll make her feel safe, Adam. You
and I. We won't let her be scared, OK?" She could feel him nod
against her shoulder, but she also knew that fear resided in his little
heart as much as he thought it would in his sister. "It's going to be
all right, baby. We found Daddy. It's all going to be all right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder had lost track of his surroundings until they moved him
from one gurney to another. Ouch! Why they were always tossing
him from one bed to the next he could never understand.

He reached out his hand, but there was no other small hand to clasp
onto. Had he dreamed about Dana being with him? No, he
remembered her being there, kissing his forehead, when the doctors
let her near him. He knew she wasn't far. They probably kicked
her out again. But where would she go without him?

His thoughts were so confused. He hurt so much. Every time he
closed his eyes it was a struggle to drag them open again. Maybe
he should just stop struggling so much? Maybe then he wouldn't
hurt as bad, wouldn't hurt to breath. Breathing had become too
much of an agony. Wouldn't it be easier just to forget to breath in
a while? What was the worst that could happen? That he wouldn't
hurt anymore?

He felt the gurney move and it startled him. Where were they
taking him? He could make out voices. Someone was leaning over
him, but he didn't recognize them, so he didn't make the effort to
try and understand what they were telling him. There was only one
voice he cared to hear at that moment and her's wasn't in the
cacophony above him.

More motion. The gurney bumped over a threshold and he gasped
at the pain that shot through him from the suddenly jostling. The
oxygen mask over his face wasn't really doing that much to help
him. When he did blink his eyes open, the world was colorless, and
grayed out at the edges. Lights. He could see lights as they moved
above his face. Or was it him who was moving?

They stopped, and again, he wished he could cry out just to tell
them to stop the jostling! But in a second, there was the hand. Her
hand. He decided it was worth the effort to drag his eyes open one
last time.

Her face. Dana smiled down at him and stroked his cheek.
Gently, she moved the mask off his face and leaned over to kiss him
ever so softly on his lips. She slipped the mask back on and he
could breath a little bit. For some reason, the pain just seemed to
fade a bit when she kissed him.

Then she was gone and he almost sobbed for the loss until another
face came into view, and then another. Mom. Dad. They were
there, too. Mom, Maggie, leaned over and kissed his forehead.
She was telling him something, but he was so caught up in the joy
of just seeing her that he didn't really catch what she was saying.
Dad, Walter, had tears in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed his
forehead, too.

The next face he saw was Adam's. His son. His beautiful baby
boy, who wasn't so much a baby anymore. Mulder forced a smile
on his face as he looked at his son and the tiny boy smiled back.
Words came through the fog. Adam's voice cut through to his
hearing.

"I love you, Daddy."

Walter's face beamed next to Adam's as he held the boy up in his
arms. "We all do, son. We love you." Walter bend down so that
Adam could give him a kiss on the forehead.

Walter moved aside to let Dana come into the space where
Mulder's vision was locked. She held Dawn. His little Dawn, his
bright new beginning. She was so tiny. Was Adam ever that tiny,
Mulder wondered. And her face was that of an angel. She wasn't
red faced and squalling, she was asleep and peaceful and his heart
almost burst with love for her. Nana's words came back to him.
Someday he would have to give her to some other man. But not
today. Not for a long, long time.

Dana tore her gaze away from his, toward someone standing nearby
and nodded, a set expression on her face. She leaned over and this
time he could make out her words.

"We're all waiting for you, Sweetheart. We'll be there when you
wake up. I love you, Fox. So very, very much."

She kissed him again and moved back. The gurney started to move
again. It was still agony to breath, everything hurt so much. But
he could take the pain. For them, for his family, he could hold on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They'd been sitting in the surgical waiting room, all six of them, for
about two hours. Because of the late hour, there was only one
other family sharing the room with them. Most surgeries were
scheduled during the day and most trauma emergencies were
handled at nearby Cook County Hospital, which tended to
specialize in gunshot and stab wounds.

A tall gentleman in his early thirties came into the room and looked
around. Dana was the first to notice him, and figured he for a
member of the clergy, coming to visit the other family. When he
turned to look around, she noticed the yarmulke perched on the back of his
head and smiled, then settled back down to read the book they'd found for
Adam.

The voice was right over her and she looked up to see the man
smiling at her. "Mrs. Mulder?"

Surprised, she nodded. "Yes, I'm Dana Mulder," she said,
knowing that's how all the hospital staff knew her at the moment.

He extended his hand. "I'm Rabbi Daniel Wolff. I'm one of the
chaplains here at the Medical Center. The nurse asked if I could
stop by. I understand your husband was brought in tonight and is
in surgery. Oh, and she said they found this in the coat he was
wearing." In Rabbi Wolff's hand was the same little prayer and
activity book that Adam had insisted they bring from home.

She reached out and took the book in her hands. It was pretty
battered, had gotten wet in the basement. There was a smudge of
blood on the cover which made her wince. But it was the same
book. She swallowed back her tears.

"I thought we might say a prayer together," Rabbi Wolff suggested.

Dana smiled. "I'd like that, Rabbi, but I should warn you. I'm not
good with Hebrew. I'm Catholic. It's my husband who's Jewish,"
she admitted a bit self-consciously.

The Rabbi beamed. "Ah, one of _those_ marriages," he laughed.
"Not to worry, Mrs. Mulder. I know all kinds of nice
'non-denominational' prayers. And I also have some connections.
Father Mick Garraty, over at Holy Name is a buddy of mine from
my old neighborhood. His church is just a mile away, although
most of his parishioners end up at Cook County rather than here. I
can ask him to come over, if you'd like. The more the merrier,
right?"

Three hours later, Rabbi Daniel was holding a sleeping Dawn in his
lap, and Father Mick was sitting next to a sleeping Adam, talking
quietly to Walter about his brother in the Marines. The other family
had long since left, their patient had been moved to recovery and
they were waiting for her in her regular room. After much
conjoling, SAC Albright had been forced home to his own family,
but only with the assurance that he would be called immediately
with any news. Riichi had succumbed to exhaustion and had fallen
asleep on a sofa. Maggie had covered him with one of the blankets
the desk nurse had supplied for them.

Dana was pacing again, just in front of the double doors which lead
to the operating rooms. When the one of the doors opened, it
almost smacked her in the face. She quickly came out from behind
it and accosted the tired doctor standing there.

"Is there any news on Agent Mulder?" she asked, but it sounded
more like a demand than a plea.

"Mrs. Mulder, right? I'm Dr. Wright. I operated on your husband.
I wonder if we could talk over there," he said, pointing to an area
away from the rest of the family and friends.

"I'd prefer it if we could all hear what you have to say, Dr. Wright.
It will save me time later," Dana said firmly and led the doctor over
to the chairs near Walter.

Dana made quick introductions all around, and during those, Riichi
woke up and joined the group. Finally, looking a little bewildered
by the assortment of people before him, Dr. Wright started by
taking a deep breath.

"You're husband is in recovery," he told Dana and nodded to the
rest. "We were able to save the kidney, but I'll tell you, the
recovery will be trickier than if we'd just removed it. We'll have to
keep a very close watch on him."

"I'm a medical doctor, I'm a pathologist," Dana said, hoping that
would keep the good doctor from trying to 'dumb down' his
concerns.

Wright managed a weak smile. "Then you know what I'm talking
about. His blood volume is good, surprisingly. Of course the
pneumonia complicates any recovery. We're treating with Biaxin
IV and hoping for improvement as early as this evening."

"The leg?" Dana reminded him.

"I was getting to that." Wright sighed. "It was in pretty bad shape.
As you know, bones need to be set rather soon after trauma.
Complications can arise if they are neglected. The bone was
shattered. We did have to wrap and pin, I imagine you understand
that procedure?" he glanced over to see Dana nod. "He's going to
have a pretty nasty scar. But then, he already has a couple of those
on his other leg, I noticed."

"But will he have full mobility?" Walter finally spoke up. This was
his field agent, after all, as well as his son-in-law.

"I'm afraid that's what I was, well, tap dancing around. We won't
know for a while. For now," he made a point to include the two
clergy member, "for now, we just have to pray."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder had finally been moved to a private room that became
available at the last moment. It proved to be medically advisable;
not for Mulder, so much as for any potential roommate. The Fox
Mulder fan club was alive and well and in full force, and when
Dawn Marie Mulder made her presence known, the whole world
knew about it.

Fox felt a warm breeze around his face. He opened his eyes slowly
and found himself staring into a pair of hazel eyes which rivaled his
own. Before anyone had noticed, Adam had climbed up on his
dad's hospital bed and was staring hard in an attempt to will him to
open his eyes and wake up.

It worked.

"Hi, big guy," Mulder rasped out in greeting. "You're sure a sight
for sore eyes."

"Hi, Daddy," Adam said seriously. "I'm glad Nana and me helped
Mommy 'rescued' you."

"You did? You and Nana?" the elder Mulder replied with a big
smile. Upon seeing his son nod his head vigorously in response,
Mulder then said, "Well, I'm glad you did too."

"Adam Mulder, now what are you doing on your father's bed?"
asked a very stern Maggie Skinner.

"I'm saying hello, Gam-ma!" he replied innocently.

''And so you are," she answered with a chuckle. "But I think your
daddy could rest more easily if you sat in a chair next to him,
okay?" Maggie lifted her grandson off of his father and plopped
him in the chair beside the bed.

"Where's Dane?" asked Mulder of Maggie.

"She went to buy some baby supplies. We were running low on
diapers and wipes. Plus, she was dying for something real to eat, so
Walter and she went to a nearby restaurant for some take out."

"Do I get some?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer
would be. "Not today, Fox. I'm afraid you're on clear broth and
jello detail."

"Oh, yum," he replied sarcastically. He then heard a voice he'd
longed to hear and said in an equally dry tone, "Gee, I wonder if
Dawn's here?"

Adam giggled and said, "Yeah, Daddy. Dawnie's saying hi in baby
talk."

Maggie smiled, and without having to be asked, picked up her
squalling granddaughter, and carried her over to Fox.

"God, Mom, she's gotten so big in just the couple of days I've been
gone."

"Umm, sweetheart, you do know it's been more than just a couple
of days since you've seen her, don't you?" Maggie asked.

"More? How much more?" he asked tentatively.

"Sweetheart, you left for your case a couple of days or so before
Hanukkah, and you were kidnapped on the first night. Fox, tonight
is the last night of Hanukkah," Maggie said gently.

"The last night? God, how long have I been in the hospital?" he
asked incredulously.

"Just a couple of days or so, that's all. Oh, but you are doing so
much better. Your fever finally broke last night, which is why I
suspect you're feeling better now," explained Maggie.

"Well, I'm not about to do a jig or the hora, but I guess I'm feeling
better." The baby continued to cry, so Fox reached out for her.

"Fox, I don't know if __."

"__Please, Mom. It's been so long since I've held my daughter."

"Besides Gam-ma, Daddy's got the magic shoulder," encouraged
Adam. "Mommy says Daddy's the only one who can make Dawnie
stop crying without her having to plug into her."

Maggie couldn't find fault with that argument, so she carefully place
the infant in her father's arms so Dawn laid upon the 'magic
shoulder.' Maggie smiled as she listened to Fox talk with his baby
girl, much like in the same way the Captain used to speak with
Melissa and Dana when they were newborns.

And amazingly enough, Fox's shoulder' did its magic again. The
baby settled down with her fist in her mouth and her head laid
contentedly on her daddy's shoulder, in the crook of his neck.

"She feels so good," he said, and then turning to his son he said,
"Shh, if you don't tell Gam-ma, I think there's some room on the
other side for you."

"Fox! Adam! Slow down!" cried out Maggie as she watched her
grandson run around to the other side of the bed and scramble atop
of it next to his father. She was ready to admonish both of them,
but when she saw Adam nuzzle into his father's side, she didn't have
the heart. "Just try to rest for a little while. All of you, okay?"

The two Mulder men and one little Mulder lady agreed
wholeheartedly. Within minutes, all three were sound asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana and Walter returned with enough take out Chinese food for
practically the entire nursing staff. Dana wanted to be sure to let
the nursing staff know how much she appreciated the extra mile
they went in taking care of her husband. Though he was out of
danger, he was still in need of very attentive care, and this staff was
showing Fox just that.

But she never expected to see what she saw when she opened
Mulder's door. Adam remained snuggled and sleeping up against
Fox's side while the baby snoozed on his shoulder. Maggie was
sound asleep in the oversized lounge chair one of the very
compassionate nurses had shlepped in for them to use when they'd
been keeping round the clock vigils.

The only one in the room that appeared wide awake was the patient
himself.

"Hey there," she said as moved closer to kiss him hello.

"Hi, Dane. I missed you."

"Oh, I missed you too. It's nice to have you back. I take it the
children agree?" she said with a chuckle.

"Yeah. God, I missed them so much. It feels so good to have them
near me. Hey, I could make a little room and you __," he
whispered with a huge smile.

"__ Save it G-Man. I'll join you when it's a little less crowded,
okay?"

The door opened, and Walter entered, having just parked the car.
"You're awake! How ya feeling?"

"Like a two ton truck ran me over, but better than I have in days,
that's for sure."

"You look better than you have in days too," Walter retorted.

"Oh, you're back. I must have dozed off," yawned Maggie. "Did
you bring back something delicious to eat? I'm actually starving."

"Oh sure, Mom, torture me. I'll eat my green jello while you eat__,
what did you bring to eat anyway?" Mulder asked.

"Chinese. General Tsao's Chicken and some chow mein for you,
Mom. Chicken in foil and lo mein for the son. And, if you are a
good boy, Agent Mulder, I may even share some of my Wonton
soup broth with you. What do you think of that?" asked a very
teasing Scully.

"Oh, be still my heart!" replied a chuckling Mulder in kind. "Throw
in a wonton, and you can have your way with me woman!"

"Right, and we'd probably be extending your hospital stay by at
least another week or so," she replied laughing.

"I'm hungry," announced a now very awake, and slightly cranky
Adam.

"Well, c'mon little G-Man, and let's feed your hungry belly!" said
Scully.

"Little G-Man?" echoed Mulder curiously.

"Yup! Daddy, I'm an 'onrary FBI agent cause I 'cept my
'ssignments just like you and Mommy do from Gam-pa," explained
a very excited Adam.

"Wow, you give Gam-pa a run for his money too?" Mulder said
with a smile towards his father-in-law and boss.

Walter smiled and said, "At least he admits he busts my chops.
Please, someone, mark this date and sign it as my witnesses."

Mulder smiled at Walter's comments, but then realized how true it
all was. "Umm, Walter? I just wanted to say that I didn't mean for
this to happen," he began. "I mean, I know sometimes I get myself
into trouble because I don't think ahead, but this time? I really
didn't mean to do anything wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I worried
everyone," he said apologetically.

"Fox," Walter said reassuringly, "no one is blaming you for this
incident. Don't blame yourself. The only person who can claim
blame is the perpetrator, Alan Tripp. No one else was at fault, and
especially not you."

"Or you," Scully said as she watched a now very confused Riichi
Obayashi walk through the door.

"Or me, what?" he asked.

"You've just walked in on the old, 'No one's blaming you for
another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Ollie,' lecture. Dane
wants to make sure you realize you couldn't have prevented this no
matter what you did," Mulder elaborated.

"Oh. Well, I wish I could have done more. I mean, I didn't want
you to miss your holiday," Riichi said hesitantly.

"Oh, but we didn't, did we? Maggie, you said tonight's the last
night, right?" Mulder asked excitedly.

"Oh, but Sweetheart, I didn't bring the menorah with me," remarked
a disappointed Scully.

"Oh! Me! Me!" shouted a very excited Adam. "Dawnie's bag!
Dawnie's diaper bag! Where did it go, Gam-ma?"

"Here sweetheart. Be careful, it's heavy," Maggie warned.

Adam pulled on the zipper and started throwing disposable diapers
around the room. His mother began to admonish him, when finally,
he pulled out the object of his search.

The original, small brass menorah Mulder first used when Adam
was born. "I couldn't fit the big, new one in Dawnie's bag, Daddy,
but I figured this would be good too, right?"

"Oh, Adam, it's perfect. It's even better than the big, new one,
because you brought it," Fox told his very proud son.

"Umm, Adam, you didn't by some small miracle think to pack some
candles, did you?" asked Scully, knowing her son may look like his
father, and he may ask a million questions like his father, but if her
hunch was right, Adam was also organized as any true Scully was,
just like his mother.

"Yup!" he answered with a huge grin as he pulled out the box from
the zippered compartment.

Dana beamed, "That's my boy!"

"My goodness," interjected Maggie, "no wonder that bag felt like it
weighed an extra two tons!"

"It's dark outside! Can we light the candles now?" asked Adam.

"Sweetheart, Daddy's still on oxygen, so we can't actually light the
candles. It could cause an explosion," Dana explained.

"Sorry 'bout that big guy. You can light the candles when you go
back to the hotel, okay?" offered Mulder.

"But that's not the same as lighting them with you," Adam whined.

"I know. I'm disappointed too, but Adam, the important thing is
we're together. I didn't totally miss spending Hanukkah with you
and Dawn and your Mom. Let's make the most of it, okay?"
Mulder pleaded quietly.

"Okay, Daddy."

"Adam, why don't you set the candles up in the menorah. You can
pick out all of the prettiest colors," said Maggie. Adam nodded in
agreement as he began to set up the menorah.

"Ohmigod, the book. I have the book!" Mulder said excitedly. "It's
in my coat. Look in the closet, Dane. Please!"

Dana beamed and pulled the little book out of her pocket. "It's not
in your coat, G-Man. It's right here." She handed to him while he
shot her a questioning look. Finally deciding he'd get her to tell
him later, he opened the book to the last section.

He recited the blessings in perfect Hebrew. Everyone echoed the
'amen' at the end of the blessings. Everyone stared at the unlit
candles, and Adam asked, "Is it really Hanukkah if you don't light
the candles?"

"Yes, shayner boychikel. It's still really Hanukkah," said the lilting
accented voice.

"Hi, Nana!" squealed Adam in delight. "We did it! We found
Daddy, but we can't light the candles cause Daddy will blow up if
we do."

"Oh my! We can't have that, now can we!" asked Nana. "Foxila,
you're feeling better, no?"

"Yes, Nana, I'm feeling better. Thank you for helping me believe
in my miracle."

"I think we need one more miracle. Nu, you think maybe you and
Adam could live with one more miracle, mine aynekels?" she asked
with a gleam in her eye.

"Yes! Yes, Nana!" agreed five year old Adam immediately.

"It's not gonna make me blow up, is it Nana?" asked Fox, chuckling
at his son's explanation.

"No, but it will fulfill young Adam's Hanukkah wish," she said, and
she closed her eyes. Nana held her hands out over the candles of
the menorah. One by one, beginning with the shamash, the worker
candle, each one began to glow a fire-less light.

Riichi watched in awe and fascination as the menorah's gentle
radiance lit up the room. "Why do I have a feeling we're not
alone?" he asked with a warm smile. "Hello, Nana, where ever you
are," he whispered in greeting.

Maggie, Walter, and Dana echoed their friend's words while they all
basked in the glow of the Hanukkah lights.

A miracle was renewed tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder residence
Christmas Eve

"You know, you can pay people to assemble those things for you.
And then they can send their kids to camp and college and have a
wonderful standard of living," came the snickering voice from the
sofa.

"And miss the joy of a gouged palm? Never!" answered Walter
Skinner as he put the last turn on the socket wrench he was
holding. "There! One 16 inch, two wheeled bike, with training
wheels, metallic midnight blue with racing details, all set for the
sidewalk."

Mulder smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Gam-pa. I was just joking
about the assembling. You did a great job."

"Hey, for my grandson, only the best," Walter said, gathering his
tools and maneuvering the bike under the tree. Or at least near the
tree. Under the tree was pretty much taken up by the deluge of
presents. Walter flashed Mulder one raised eyebrow.

Mulder shrugged. "We combined. I had some stuff put on lay
away, believe it or not, for Hanukkah, and well, Dane went a little
nuts this year. Anyway, that's Hanukkah and Christmas together.
We aren't spoiling them, honest, Dad," he said solemnly.

"Hey, what are kids for if not to spoil," Walter said, and Mulder
shifted a bit to allow the older man room on the sofa. "How's the
leg?"

"Sore. But it's too good to be home to let it bother me tonight."

"I didn't want to bring up a sore subject, pardon the pun, but how
did the tests come out earlier today?"

"Oh, Dad, I'm sorry! In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you and
Mom. Dana took the call late this afternoon. The test came out
fine. No nerve damage. I should gain full use of my leg.
Sometime around July, but at least it's going to happen."

Walter reached over and grasped his son-in-law's hand. "Thank
God," he said in a strained voice. Mulder nodded, looking at the
flames in the fireplace.

"It got awfully quiet in here," Dana said, as she came into the living
room, carrying a tray with steaming mugs.

"We finished," Walter said, wiping hurriedly at his eyes. "Just
admiring the workmanship."

Dana shot him a curious look and then one to her husband, who
only shook his head slightly. Taking his cue, she turned her
attention to the bike under the tree. "Great job, guys."

"Dad did all the work," Mulder pointed out.

"Not true! You found the English version of the instructions, Fox.
Otherwise, we would have needed a Japanese/English dictionary to
put the thing together." They shared a chuckle.

"Well, we know who to call when we need someone to assemble a
Barbie Dream House in a couple of years."

"Oh, please, not one of those," Maggie cried in mock exasperation,
joining the other three. "It took your father and I three hours to
put together the one we got Melissa when she was six. And then,
since the boys managed to destroy that one, we had to do the same
darned thing again two years later when _you_ wanted one."

"We pay to have it assembled," Mulder said with a wink to his wife.

Dana handed out the mugs to her mother and father-in-law.
"Mulled cider, Grandma Scully's recipe."

Walter took his and bit his lip. "Maybe I should pass, I'm the
designated driver."

Dana smiled and pressed the mug into his hands. "This year, I
made the 'unleaded' version. Safe for designated AD's, nursing
mothers and Agents on medical leave under doctor's orders."

"Well, then, where's mine?" Mulder piped up and she handed him
a mug as well. Getting her own, she snuggled down next to her
husband.

"Warm enough?" she asked quietly.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "There was a
moment in that basement when I never thought I'd be warm again.
But yeah, I'm warm enough now." He pulled her head down onto
his shoulder and leaned his own head against hers. He almost
chuckled as he thought of the most appropriate word for what he
was doing. Basking. Basking in the warmth of the fire and the love
of his family.

"It's a beautiful tree," Maggie said a while later, smiling at her
daughter.

"Dane? Why is there a Star of David on our Christmas tree? Does
this mean I have to put little Santas on our menorah?" Mulder
asked, with obvious confusion.

His wife punched him lightly in the arm. "No, silly. That's from
the 'Tree of Jesse'. The lineage of the Christ child. If you look hard
enough, you'll see Noah's ark and Moses' staff. I found them in
Chicago at the hospital gift shop and picked them up."

"As a remembrance of our wonderful visit?" Mulder shot back with
mild sarcasm.

"As a reminder of our Hanukkah miracle," she said softly in her
husband's ear and then placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Then I love them," he said softly and kissed her back. Suddenly,
there was the sound of little footsteps on stairs and a squeal of
delight from the doorway.

"Santa comed! Santa comed! And I got my bike!" Adam cried
with joy as he danced over to the tree. "And looky at all the
presents," he said in awe. "Mommy, can I open 'em now?" he
pleaded.

"Adam, we have to wait till tomorrow," Dana was trying to say
over his begging. "Dawn isn't awake . . ."

"Um, Sweetheart," Mulder said, nudging his wife. "Correction.
Dawn _is_ awake. And I think that's a hunger cry, if I'm not
mistaken."

Dana shot her husband an icy glare. "I blame you for this
'nocturnal activity', Fox William Mulder," she growled, but got up
to collect their daughter so that she could join the festivities.

"Daddy's in trouble," Adam confided in his grandfather. "Mommy
only uses our middle names when we're in trouble."

Walter fought to keep the smile off his face. "I'll remember that,"
he told his grandson.

"Dane, look at this way. If we open the gifts now, we get to sleep
in tomorrow," Mulder pointed out when she returned and settled
back on the couch with their infant daughter suckling for dear life.

"And Grandma and Grandpa get to join in on the fun," Maggie
pointed out.

"We could go to eleven o'clock Mass at St. Anne's, I suppose," Dana
said with a resigned sigh. "OK, big guy. Do you think you can do
the honors?"

"Is that another 'signment, Agent Mommy?" Adam asked, eyes
twinkling.

"Well, since 'Agent Mommy' is feeding baby Dawn, and 'Agent'
Daddy is a bit indisposed, yes, I guess that 'assignment' gets passed
on to you," she replied with a wink to her son. "Go for it, Agent
Adam. Just read the tags and pass out the gifts to the right people.
And I bet if you get stuck, the Assistant Director won't mind giving
you a hand."

Walter beamed. "It would be my pleasure. Let's see what we've
got here, Adam."

Dana snuggled back into her previous position, still cradling Dawn.
Mulder wrapped his arm around them both, and with his free hand,
tenderly stroked his daughter's hair as she nursed.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart," he whispered to his wife and over
the din of squeals she smiled. Tilting her head, she caught his lips
with a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, my love. Merry Christmas and welcome home."

the end.


pass the eggnog. And the big bottle of rum <VEG> We live for
feedback. STPteach@aol.com and vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

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Season's Greetings
Peace and Joy

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