The Healer by Susan Proto (1/2)
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 98
Category: X-File (Surprise!) MulderTorture (No surprise!)
Angst; MSR/
M/S/SK Friendship
Rating: PG13 for language
Spoilers: mild spoilers up and through the movie (definitely POST-FlickFic
Summary: Mulder comes across a tabloid article which describes
a man with
amazing skills as a 'psychic surgeon' and decides to meet him. A
meeting
that later has serious implications for Mulder's life.
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, & Skinner, as well as the
notion of Maggie
Scully and Ma ("I still can't believe you called her
Teena") Mulder belong
to 10/13 productions and Chris Carter. I'm just borrowing them. I
won't
keep them. At the end of the story you can have `em back, I
swear,
(unless you *want* to give `em to me.) All other characters
belong to me,
and if Mr. Carter wants to borrow them, all he needs to do is
ask. <grin>
Flames will be noted, but constructive feedback will be
appreciated
acknowledged!
Author's Note: One night, not too long ago, Vickie Moseley and
I were
instant messaging one another while watching an NBC special on
unusual
phenomena. I wish I could remember the name, but suffice it to
say we
thought it must have been absolute fate that it should include
segments on
"crop circles" of all things and then one on
"psychic surgery." Vickie
said there was a story there somewhere.
Well, one night it found me, and with the help and encouragement
of Mrs.
Moseley, here it is. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I
enjoyed
writing it. (Though I know you'll let me know either way.)
Reminder! I am not a doctor! I only pretend to be able to
write them in
scenes requiring medical knowledge, so forgive me if I've totally
misstated some medical facts here.
The Healer
by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Part 1/9
"What?" Scully asked in her most weary voice.
"What is it now that has
you ready to run up to Skinner, practically getting on your hands
and
knees begging him to approve a 302?"
"Ah, Scully, you're no fun. C'mon, where's your sense of
adventure?
Your sense of the wonder at the unknown?" he replied
teasingly.
She couldn't stay annoyed with him long. His enthusiasm was
infectious
and a joy to see again. It had been so long since she could share
Mulder's joy and anticipation for anything unusual that came in
their
path. And though she could appreciate his excitement, today was
not a day
she felt she wanted to engage in it with him until she was
certain it
wasn't the proverbial wild goose chase.
One wild goose chase per month was enough, and their little
trek to the
Antarctic had met that requirement. Okay, maybe that little
adventure
wasn't so much a 'wild goose chase' as it was an adventure in
hell. On
the other hand, they did learn more than they'd ever learned
before,
but__.
She wasn't getting any younger, you know.
Come to think of it, neither was he.
And yet, with all they'd been though, they both, somehow, they
both now
felt as though they had all the time in the world.
"What is it this time, Mulder?" she asked chuckling.
"What do you know about 'psychic surgery', Scully?"
"Oh Lord, save us. Mulder, you have got to be kidding!"
"C'mon, Scully, have you ever heard of it?" he asked enthusiastically.
"Yes, I have," she began smugly. "It's a
process whereby a _non-medical_
healer pretends to dig his hands into a person's insides, going
right
through the skin without the benefit of a knife or any surgical
instrument. There's no real incision, only a fake incision made
when the
so-called healer runs a finger along the patient's body, and then
pretends
to pull out some 'tumors' or internal organs of some sort."
Seeing by his slightly gaping mouth she had Mulder's full
attention,
Scully smiled slightly and continued.
"The healer attempts to make the whole illusion look real
by squirting
animal blood from a hand held balloon while discarding things
like raw
chicken livers and hearts. The ill patient, thinking he's been
cured,
goes home to die of whatever cancerous condition brought him to
the healer
in the first place.
"Of course, if there wasn't anything really seriously
wrong with the
patient, he goes home to live to a ripe old age, and perpetuates
the myth
that psychic surgery had cured him. It's become a rather big
business in
the world, particularly in the Philippines and Brazil," she
concludes and
then takes a deep breath.
"I am impressed, Dr. Scully. I honestly didn't think
you'd have made
yourself that well versed on the subject," he replied with a
slight smirk.
"Makes me kind of wonder why you would take such an interest
in such
quackery."
"Mulder, give me a break. You know I keep myself up to
date with anything
and everything that has to do with medical research. Psychic
surgery has
had the mainstream medical community up in arms for quite some
time now,
simply because it induces desperately sick, often destitute
people, to
seek help from unqualified people. These poor people die while
making
these fakes richer and richer," she replied indignantly.
"Okay, okay, point taken," he said quickly, but then
quietly added, "But
Scully? What if there were someone out there who really had this
ability?
I mean, wouldn't that be a medical breakthrough that even __you__
would
want to see?"
Scully looked at her partner and drank in the sight. He was so
deliriously happy these days. Since they'd returned from the
Antarctic
debacle, their division had been reopened and they were a team
again. A
real team.
She still didn't believe every theory Mulder threw out at her,
but she
knew she thoroughly and completely believed in him. And herself.
And in
them together. A team. A partnership. For life.
But for this? Psychic Surgery?
She was so tired. They'd already been consultants to not one,
but two
VCS cases and had even assisted in the capture of one of the
UNSUBS. The
second had yet to be caught, but Mulder's profile certainly had
the local
authorities on the right track.
The perp was targeting local law enforcement as his victims,
so the local
PD's were absolutely adamant about solving this one on their own.
So,
Mulder handed over the profile and informed everyone he was more
than
happy to step aside as this all happened within the space of six
weeks.
All the while she and Mulder were working hard to get their new
office up
and running again.
She wasn't tired. She was exhausted, and she was mildly
jealous that her
partner wasn't feeling equally spent.
"Mulder, aren't you ready for a break? I mean, we've just
spent the last
month or so working with Violent Crimes to catch not one, but two
serial
killers, in addition to trying to outfit this empty shell of an
office
with furniture and equipment to make it homey so we can spend
more than
half our waking hours in it, and you want to go running off
to___? Umm,
where do you want to go running off to?" she asked tiredly.
"Not far," he began cautiously. "We can even
drive. Kentucky. Right on
the border of Virginia, practically."
"Mulder__," she growled. "Where?"
"Letcher county, in southeastern Kentucky. The
Appalachians," he finally
admitted.
Scully sighed. The Appalachian Mountain region was not exactly
known for
its four star hotels and restaurants. Much of it was an
economically
depressed area and relied primarily on its mining industry for
growth. Of
course, when one considers the subject of psychic surgery, Scully
could
only imagine what type of area would embrace that bit of fakery.
Before
Scully could protest, Mulder continued to explain his rational
for wanting
to take the case.
"Look, Scully, I know we've been working hard with VCS.
That's probably
why this case looks so inviting. It's a real X-File, Dana. We
haven't
had one of those in soo long," he sighed.
Scully smiled to herself, as she heard him call her 'Dana'.
Ever since
they'd returned from the Antarctica, he'd taken to using her
first name
more and more. He was so tentative at first and used it with such
caution, almost as though he was afraid she'd admonish him for
it.
But she didn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't.
She loved him, she knew he loved her, though neither had said
it in so
many words, but they both knew it nonetheless. So if he felt the
need to
call her 'Dana', then he could call her 'Dana'.
Of course, she took the same liberty.
The first time she called him 'Fox' she thought his head was
going to fly
off his shoulders he jerked it up so hard. She couldn't help
smiling at
the memory of his shocked expression when she'd called him by his
first
name. And she couldn't help grinning broadly at the memory of his
quiet,
amused acceptance of it.
So now, when he looked so hopefully at her, she realized his
idea of
taking it easy was an X-File case. God help them both. She
figured the
safest thing to do at this point was to ask him to explain it to
her in
detail, so she would have enough information to make an informed
decision.
"Talk to me, Mulder. What's got you so hyped up?"
"Okay. According to this article," he began while
hiding the banner of
the rag he called an 'alternative news source,' "there's a
man by the name
of Henry Marcos."
"Don't tell me. He's Filipino, right?" Upon seeing
her partner nod in
the affirmative, she said, "Please tell he's not related to
either the
shoe lady herself or her late husband."
"No, no relation that I know of." Scully
acknowledged his response with a
slight sigh of relief. He continued his briefing. "Well,
apparently
there's this small town in Kentucky, in the back country, called
Batchtown, Kentucky."
He waited for patiently for his partner to stop rolling her
eyes so he
could continue. "There seemed to be an extremely high
incidence of
hemophilia in the town."
Scully's expression continued to show disbelief. "Mulder,
if this area is
as back country as you seem to indicate, there's probably a very
good
reason why they have a high incidence of hemophilia since it is a
genetic
disease. My God, Mulder, there's no telling how much
intra-familial
marriage has been going on there."
"You're probably right on that," Mulder admitted
easily. "I'm not
concerned with why there's a high incidence of hemophilia. My
interest is
in how they deal with the potentially dangerous medical problems
inherently associated with hemophilia."
"Mulder, there's clotting factor VIII available for
hemophiliacs. They
don't have to live in total fear of bleeding to death any
longer," she
replied quickly.
"But it's expensive. It can cost upward to two hundred
thousand dollars
to treat someone with severe hemophilia, Scully."
"Well, yes, but__"
"Scully, we're talking about people who can barely put
food on their
tables," he reminded her seriously. "These people need
a way of meeting
the needs of their stricken without it costing an arm and a leg.
The
government will spend only so much money, and then it's only on
an as
needed basis. There's such a large pocket of need in the town of
Batchtown, Kentucky, I think the government has been running for
the hills
by giving those poor people the run around.
"The article spoke of the government actually accusing
the citizen's of
Batchtown of intermarrying to create more hemophiliac victims in
order to
extort more money out of the government. Jeeze, and they call
_me_
paranoid," he concluded chuckling lightly.
"All right," Scully conceded, "so how does this Marcos character fit in?"
"Well, apparently he was a pretty well known guy in the
Philippines. He
decided to bring his talents to the States__."
"__You mean he was run out of the Philippines for fraud,
don't you,
Mulder?" she asked wryly.
"No, as a matter of fact, I don't. I've been doing some
research on this
guy on the internet. Apparently, he's something of a cult hero in
his
native country. There's a number of web sites dedicated to this
man and
his following. They keep waiting for him to return to the
Philippines,
almost like they're waiting for their messiah to come home."
Scully looked at him quizzically. "There's something I
don't understand."
Mulder looked at her encouragingly. "Why," she
continued, "does he stay
in an area where he's obviously going to be paid in nothing more
exotic
than chunks of coal or pig's feet. I mean, the community you're
talking
about can't have a whole lot of wealth behind it. What's this
guy's
angle?" she finally asked.
"Is it beyond the realm of extreme possibilities that
Henry Marcos simply
wants to heal people?" he asked quietly.
"Beyond the realm?" Scully echoed. "No, Mulder,
it's not beyond the
realm. It's just that it's highly unlikely given what we know
about
medical science. I think it's more likely Mr. Marcos has a vested
interest in one of the coal mines up 'thar' in Kentucky, and he's
waiting
to make a major hit so he can run 'for them thar hills',"
she teased.
"I don't know," Mulder sighed, "maybe you're
right. But it just feels so
real."
"Fox," she began. Dana watched him as he looked up
with startled eyes.
He was still not used to hearing his first name come out of his
partner's
mouth, but he knew when she did say it, it meant she wanted to be
taken
extra seriously. He waited patiently for her to continue.
"I'm going to be honest with you. I don't see this
anymore than a scam
artist taking advantage of poor, ignorant people. If that's the
case,
then it's really the under the authority of the local P.D.
"Now, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, so
listen to everything
I say before you jump down my throat, okay?" She waited and
saw him
acknowledge her with a slight nod.
"Okay. I don't want to go to Batchtown, Kentucky. Quite
frankly, the
last thing I want to deal with is a small, secluded town with few
if any
of the amenities of modern conveniences. I _need_ to be near a
bathtub
with hot and cold running water," she said with a small
smile. Mulder,
she realized thankfully, was smiling back at her, and so she
continued.
"However, since there seems to be nothing here that could
put you in harms
way, I see no reason why you shouldn't go and have some fun
checking it
out," Scully suggested. "I mean, there wouldn't even be
any sharp
instruments in the area," she added dryly.
Mulder cocked his head to one side and then grinned from ear
to ear.
"Scully? You telling me I can _ditch_ you?"
"Mulder, it's not a ditch if I'm telling you to go. So go
fill out your
302 form, sign out your rental car, and go!" she urged with
a laugh as she
watched a myriad of emotions take over Mulder's face.
She knew he'd been left exhausted from the last two cases they
assisted
in. Scully wasn't even sure he'd completely recovered from the
gun shot
wound to his head before Skinner informed them they were
immediately being
loaned to VCS.
Apparently that was one of the prices Skinner had to pay in
order to have
the X-Files reopened. He had to make his agents more available
for VCS
consultations. Skinner agreed as long as the two agents were
always sent
as a team. If VCS wanted Mulder's services, Scully was to always
accompany him, and the same was true of the reverse.
Not surprising to Skinner, Special Agent Dana Scully, MD, had
attained her
own reputation as a dedicated agent with brilliant abilities in
the area
of forensics. As much as she might have denied it, Skinner knew
Scully
was capable of making giant leaps of deduction based on an
autopsy just as
easily as Mulder was able to make incredible intuitive leaps of
judgment
based on seemingly meager bits of evidence.
So, Scully was well aware of the wear and tear the last two
cases took on
her partner. This particular case was like mind candy for him. A
jaunt
in the park. Piece of cake. She realized he _needed_ to do this
just as
much as she needed to get into that hot bath.
"One condition, partner," she added quickly.
"I promise," he cut in intuitively, "to phone in twice a day. Honest."
"Well, I was only going to demand once a day, but I'll be
more than happy
to hear from you twice a day, G-Man."
And with that she stood up, walked over and placed a kiss on
the top of
his head. He looked up, kissed her lightly on the lips, and
whispered,
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
He then jumped up with the already filled out 302 form and
excitedly told
her he was going to run it by Skinner immediately. She started
laughing
as she watched her partner take off like a schoolboy who just got
away
with something big time, and wanted to make his escape before the
teacher
changed her mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mulder knew Skinner wouldn't blink an eyelash at the request
on the 302
form. He just knew it. Mulder had been on his best behavior since
the
X-Files were reopened, mainly because he knew Skinner was most
like
responsible for it and that meant Skinner's ass was on the line
as well.
Mulder knew not to look the proverbial gift horse in the
mouth. He was
going to mind his P's & Q's, be a good little special agent,
and do
whatever the Assistant Director asked.
Because he knew there would be a pay back time, and this was
the time.
And Skinner knew it too, and he didn't hesitate one moment.
Well, maybe for one moment.
"Why is this requisition made out in just your name?" the AD asked.
"I'm doing this one solo, Sir."
"Explain."
"Scully doesn't feel this is an X-File, Sir. She believes
strongly it's a
sham operation, so she doesn't think it warrants the expense of
her
accompanying me."
"Mulder?" Skinner hesitated. He was unsure if he had
the right to ask
this next question, but he felt he needed to clarify the
situation at hand
in case Mulder was acting impulsively. "Mulder, is
everything okay
between you and Scully?"
Mulder broke into a huge smile and literally beamed at his
boss. His
friend. "Walter, everything's fine. Off the record?"
Skinner nodded at
his agent, and yes, since they'd returned from the Antarctic in
one piece,
personal friend.
"Dana's whipped. These last two VCS cases you attached us
to really wiped
us both out. The fact that the UNSUB from the second case is
still on the
loose doesn't sit too well with either one of us, but since all
that was
asked of us was the profile and a couple of autopsies, well, we
weren't
going to argue about being let off the hook on that one.
"So, since she really doesn't see this as an X-File, but
also doesn't see
any harm in me having my fun and checking it out, she told me to
go," he
explained grinning.
"She _told_ you to go, Mulder?" he asked
incredulously. "She told you to
___."
"__Ditch her," Mulder concluded for him, chuckling.
"Can you believe I
got permission from Dana Scully to go off into the wilds of
Kentucky all
by myself?!"
"And they said miracles could never happen,'' Skinner
replied in kind.
"Okay, if you say so, but Fox__?" Skinner's voice
turned serious as he
spoke, "Would you be extra careful? For all of our sakes. I
mean, I just
got you back. I don't think I could handle it if__," Skinner
tried to
explain, but he was never one to express his feelings easily, so
Mulder
let him off the hook.
"Look, Walter, you know there are literally five people
in the world I
allow to use my first name when addressing me. My mother and my
sister
don't avail themselves of the opportunity, so I guess I'm really
talking
about only three people.
"Maggie Scully.
"Dana.
"And you.
"I don't allow myself to enter into a friendship, a
relationship if you
will, and turn around and blow it by getting myself maimed or
killed. You
all mean too much to me not to be careful. I've learned my
lesson. I
love the Scully women and admire you too much to screw up,"
Mulder
concluded earnestly.
"Good. I'm glad we got that cleared up," Skinner said hoarsely.
Ever since Mulder and Scully had returned from what Skinner
could only
classify as the 'dead,' Skinner had made it his business to make
sure
things went as smoothly as possible, and the pair was protected.
Through
the course of such actions, Skinner was in contact with the duo
more and
more, and they were thrown into more social situations than ever
before.
At first, Skinner was uncomfortable with the notion of this
closeness,
mainly because he feared his subordinates would be uneasy about
an amiable
connection that was outside the parameters of their professional
relationship.
Happily, for all involved, neither Scully nor Mulder were
uncomfortable.
In fact, they embraced it and Walter Skinner into their lives and
considered Walter an ally in their newly blossoming romantic
relationship
as well.
Walter knew Mulder and Scully had loved one another for a very
long time.
In fact he'd envied that closeness for just as long. However, it
wasn't
until they returned from the frigid region that Skinner realized
they'd
only just accepted the fact they were _in_ love with one another.
And
there was no way in hell Walter Skinner was going to deny them
that
luxury.
They'd earned it. A long, long, time ago.
"Okay, Agent Mulder. Permission granted," he said
briskly as only an
Assistant Director can say it. Mulder jumped as though he were a
thoroughbred being let out of the gate. But when Skinner called
out,
"Mulder!" he turned around and saw a much softer
expression on the AD's
face. "Have fun," he said, as only a friend could say
to another.
"Thank you, Sir. For everything."
"Don't forget to call in. Twice a day, Mulder."
Mulder laughed, thinking to himself 'great minds think alike'
and
practically bolted out of his boss's office.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 1/9
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 2/9
Mulder stopped early the next morning at the bureau to pick up
last minute
report forms and to sign out the rental car. After he called
Scully at
home (who decided to take the day off much to Mulder's relief)
and let
her know he was just about to leave. She wished him luck and
reminded him
of his promise to check in with her that night as well. He
smiled, made a
remark something akin to "possessive women turn me on,"
and agreed he
would call her when he checked into a motel that evening.
He left around nine a.m. At the four hour mark he stopped and
refueled
the rental before heading west onto I-81 in Virginia. He picked
up the
pace a little and in less then three hours he entered Kentucky.
He drove
west onto US-119, another thirteen miles or so and reached the
town of
Whitesburg, KY. He took note of a couple of small motels on the
road and
decided to check in at one in order to drop his bags off and get
directions to Batchtown.
Once he registered in the motel, Mulder and got directions, it
took
another fifty minutes of driving, what seemed to Mulder all up
hill, to
actually find the very small town of Batchtown, Kentucky. He
marveled at
the small, modest, log-cabin homes that had small, handmade signs
out
front touting word crafts for sale. Apparently homemade brooms
were a
hot commodity in the area as well.
As he got closer to Batchtown, he came to an old rickety
bridge made of
fallen timber and corrugated metal. Mulder normally considered
himself a
man of great strength, but when he saw that bridge and realized
it was the
only way to get to the other side, his heart was began
palpitating at a
rate faster than he could remember it ever beating.
He steered across the passage slowly, and realized he must
have discovered
religion again when, as he crossed the bridge to the other side,
he
practically shouted, "Thank you, God!"
As he climbed higher and higher into the back country, the
houses became
fewer and the dirt roads became more numerous. Mulder realized
there were
probably several families scattered up in the higher elevations
living off
of those dirt roads. He knew he'd soon have to make a decision as
to
which of those roads to follow.
Finally, when he drove a little further, Mulder saw an elderly
man with
tanned, leathery skin, sitting on what passed for a porch. Mulder
parked
the car and got out, leaving his suit jacket in the back seat.
"Hello,
Sir," Mulder called out casually as he loosened his tie.
"I was wondering
if you could help me."
"Mebbe, ah ken, mebbe ah ken't. Whatch you needin' help with young man?"
"I'm looking for Henry Marcos, umm, the healer? The man
who's been
helping the hemophiliac patients in this town?" Mulder
explained
cautiously.
"Ya mean Reverend Henry?"
"I don't know, perhaps. I'm looking for the Henry Marcos
who's been
healing the people who can't stop bleeding," Mulder
clarified.
"Yup. Ya mean Reverend Henry."
"Do you know where I can find him?" Mulder asked,
relieved Henry Marcos
did indeed exist.
"He's at the church , just up the road a piece. "
"Thank you, Sir. Thank you for taking the time to talk to
me," replied
Mulder who then got back into his car to drive 'up the road a
piece.'
Mulder soon realized, here in the heart of the Appalachian
Mountains,
__everything__ was 'up the road a piece.'
As he steered down the main road, Mulder marveled at the
couple of old,
small, single room, log cabin homes he passed. He knew they were
historical in age, but they looked so sturdy, Mulder figured
they'd easily
last another hundred years.
He rode another fifteen minutes, when he came upon a larger
log cabin
dwelling, but held a simple cross on its roof. Mulder read the
sign in
front, "Southern Baptist Church." He got out of the
car, straightened his
tie and put his jacket back on. He walked to the front of the
church and
walked in tentatively.
"Henry Marcos?" Mulder called out softly.
"Hello? Mr. Marcos, are you
here? I'd like a chance to talk with you, Sir."
"Yes," said a gentle voice from the back corner of
the church. "I am
here. Come in." Henry Marcos stepped into the ray of
sunlight which
shone through the small window to his left.
Mulder took note of the man's slight stature and build, and
the sharp
contrast between his dark coloring and the shock of white hair
that
streaked the front of his otherwise, black, thick hair. Mulder
extended
his hand and introduced himself.
"Hello, Mr. Marcos. My name is Fox Mulder, and I work for the FBI."
"FBI," the slight man echoed softly. "Am I under investigation?"
"In a manner of speaking, Sir. I work for a division in
the bureau that
investigates unusual phenomena. I've read a couple of articles
about your
skills as a psychic surgeon, and __."
"__I have never claimed any such skill, Mr. Mulder,"
Marcos clarified
quickly. "Please understand, I do not do surgery, per
se."
"Well, that's why I'm here, Sir. To find out what it is
you do, and why
you have such an incredible following on the internet. Are you
aware of
that following, Mr. Marcos?" Mulder asked curiously.
"Yes," he sighed. "I am not as isolated from
the goings on in the world
as some of my neighbors. I have a computer hook up in my office
in town.
In Whitesburg," he clarified. "There's no phone service
here in
Batchtown."
Mulder looked at the man before him and wondered momentarily
if he was
going to be hostile towards his investigation. He decided to
assume he
would be cooperative. Positive thinking and all of that. Mulder
hoped
his assumption would prove correct.
"Mr. Marcos, or is it Reverend?" Mulder asked.
"The good people of this town declared me Reverend, Mr.
Mulder. I have
never made any such claim. I am Henry Marcos. I am a man with
simple
needs."
"Who just happens to have at least two web sites
dedicated to him and the
capability to track them. I wouldn't say you're a simple man, Mr.
Marcos."
"I never said I was simple. I merely said I didn't
require much to get
along in life. The connection to the outside world is one of the
few
luxuries I afford myself.
"What is it, Agent Mulder, that you want to investigate,
exactly?" he
finally asked.
"I've read about your work with the high population of
hemophiliac
patients in this area," Mulder began.
"I hope you're not accusing me of having anything to do
with the unusually
high numbers of hemophiliac patients in this area," Marcos
said
defensively.
"No, Mr. Marcos. I am not. The incidence is unusually
high, but it can
be explained due to the nature of the town's isolation. No, I'm
more
interested in how you treat the patients," Mulder replied.
"As you might know," Marcos began, "hemophilia
is an extremely dangerous
condition, particularly for males as it is a sex-linked
hereditary
bleeding disorder. In this area, there have also been some
incidences of
females inheriting the disorder.
"There are several symptoms that indicate medical crises
for hemophiliacs.
As very young children, they bruise easily, as there is often
bleeding
into the soft tissue areas of the arms and legs. These are
usually
superficial and don't necessarily require treatment.
"However, as individuals with hemophilia mature, they
become more active
and may develop deep muscle bleeding. There is swelling in the
area of
the limb where the bleeding occurs and the person finds it
difficult to
use the limb. The swelling can cause pressure on the nerves, and
as a
result there may be some numbness. However, inevitably there is
also
pain, and it becomes extremely difficult for the person to move
the
affected area.
"Then, as the individuals grow older, a new problem
emerges. Joint
bleeding causes the affected limb to swell as well as swelling of
the
joints in the area. If the person tries to force movement in the
joints,
it produces a great deal of pain. The joint feels hot to the
touch, and
the swelling feels almost like a sponge. To compensate for the
pain, the
patient tries to keep the joint in a flexed or bent position.
"Of course, that is the catch 22. The flexion increase
the space in the
joint, so, unfortunately, more bleeding can occur. If there's no
treatment, the area becomes hot and extremely hard, like a rock.
This, in
turn, causes even more pain for the individual," Marcos
described.
"So, what's the treatment?" Mulder asked.
"Well, the conventional treatment would involve the
person infusing
themselves with a factor replacement product. These are
concentrates of
the missing plasma proteins needed to form a clot. These proteins
are
known as factor VIII or factor IX," answered Marcos.
Mulder pretended to be uninformed about the economics of the
cost factors
and asked, "So, if there's a treatment, why are you
here?"
Marcos, however, had none of Mulder's attempts of feigning
ignorance, and
replied, "Agent Mulder, I'm sure you've done your homework.
The cost of
the factor VIII and IX treatments are prohibitive for people who
are in
much better economic condition than the good people of Batchtown.
Certainly you must have some idea of the thousands and thousands
of
dollars it costs to treat a patient with severe hemophilia."
"I've read it can cost as much as a couple of hundred
grand," Mulder
concurred.
"And that doesn't take into consideration Doctor's visits
or travel costs.
Agent Mulder, these people just do not have that kind of
money."
"Okay. Forgive me if I'm being redundant, Mr. Marcos, but
why are you
here?"
Henry Marcos, smiled and then sighed. "Be damned if I
know," he chuckled.
"Come, you must be thristy, and I have forgotten my manners.
Join me in
some iced tea?"
Mulder nodded affably and followed Marcos into the rear of the
church. He
noticed there was a kitchen with an old fashioned ice box. Marcos
pulled
out a pitcher of iced tea and poured them into two tall frosted
glasses,
which he'd also pulled out of the ice box. Mulder grasped the
glass
gratefully and took a sip.
"Very good, thanks."
"I've become a bit of an expert in the art of iced tea
preparation since
I'd arrived here," Marcos said grinning.
"How long have you been here?"
"Hmm, it must be going on eight months," he answered.
"How did you come to be here at all?" asked Mulder curiously.
Marcos looked at Mulder pensively before he spoke. "Agent
Mulder, I will
tell you, but I don't know if you will believe me."
Mulder shrugged his shoulder to neither confirm nor deny Marcos's concern.
"I had a vision. Now, I know that sounds like the words
of a mad man, and
quite frankly, I thought I was going mad. I don't know if you've
figured
it out yet or not, Agent Mulder, but I am not an uneducated man.
I have
both my bachelors and masters degree in biological sciences.
There was a
time I seriously considered going to medical school, but my gift
sidetracked me."
"Ahh, your gift. Umm, Mr. Marcos, exactly, what is this gift of yours?"
"How about you call me Henry, Agent Mulder. I suspect you
might be here
long enough that we'll become more than just mere
acquaintances," he
offered with a slight chuckle.
"Fine, Henry. And it's Mulder. Just Mulder, okay?"
Henry Marcos nodded
his understanding and began to explain his gift.
"Well, Mulder, the fact is, I'm not exactly sure what it
is. And I don't
mean to evade your question. I'm answering it to the best of my
ability.
You see, I find if I lay my hands on an affected area of the
body, I can
cause a change in that area without the benefit of surgical
apparatus."
Mulder looked at Henry with a questioning look and then asked
him if he
could provide some specific examples.
"Well, in the Philippines, I was able to help children
with leukemia. For
some reason, my gift was not as effective with adult patients of
leukemia,
yet I was able to relieve the pain of the very elderly who
suffered from
severe arthritis.
"I don't know if it's because middle aged adults don't
allow themselves to
believe the alternative treatment is possible or not. The fact
is,
however, I have much better success with the very young and the
very old.
Occasionally, I would encounter an adult who was without hope of
ever
getting well and placed all of his, though more often than not it
would be
a female, trust in my ability to help her.
"I remember a particular young woman, Lenore Gubaju.
Lenore was a
beautiful woman of about thirty-five. She'd been married for
several
years and she and her husband had been trying to conceive a baby
for a few
of those years. She was getting panicky when she'd discovered, to
her
delight, she was pregnant.
"Unfortunately, she'd also discovered she had ovarian
cancer. Well, she
was well aware that without treatment she could very well die.
But, the
dilemma of course was, the treatments could kill her unborn
child. Lenore
and her husband were desperate. They did not want to risk losing
this
child they'd desired for so long, but neither did they want to
risk
Lenore's life either."
"Quite a problem," Mulder agreed. "How were you able to help?"
"Mulder, all I know is I was able to use my gift. I
placed my hands on
Lenore's abdomen. She told me she could feel heat permeating
through the
spots my hands were touching her body. She said it wasn't
necessarily
painful, but it wasn't terribly comfortable either. Nonetheless,
I kept
my hands there until she indicated she no longer felt
anything," Marcos
answered.
"So, what happened?" Mulder prodded.
"When she returned to her oncologist, he was shocked to
inform her the
cancer was gone. Not a trace. Of course the explanation was there
was an
error in the lab tests in the first place, and Lenore Gubaju most
likely
never had ovarian cancer in the first place.
"I can not prove either case, Mulder. I won't try to
prove it either.
All I do know is Lenore and her husband had a healthy baby boy
six months
later." Marcos remained quiet while Mulder pondered the
validity of the
tale told.
Finally, after several moments passed, Mulder finally asked,
"And you said
you came here, to Batchtown, because of a vision?"
Marcos sighed deeply, and then poured himself some more iced
tea. He
nodded toward Mulder's glass, but Mulder shook him off.
"Yes, I had a vision. A dream that someone needed me. I
don't understand
how this could have happened because no one in Batchtown had ever
heard of
me or my gift before. But I woke up from a sound sleep
remembering in
great detail the cries of several people in crisis here.
"It was a miracle to me, since I'd never heard of
Batchtown, Kentucky
before. The only thing I had ever known about Kentucky was a
famous horse
race was run here," he concluded.
"So you just packed your bags and moved to Batchtown?"
"Well, yes. My friends and family were not all that happy
about my
leaving. They felt it was my duty to stay in my homeland and help
my
people there, and I would have agreed if the vision did not occur
for
several nights in a row. The dreams became more and more
detailed; more
and more graphic in terms of the pain these poor people were
in," Marcos
described.
"How many of the citizens are affected by the disease, Henry?"
"Well, the incidence of Hemophilia in the general
population is about one
male in ten thousand. That's about one one hundredth per cent of
the
population affected. We have a population of aproximately a
hundred
twenty, hundred twenty five, maybe?
Mulder, we've got fourteen cases of hemophilia here. Do the math.
That's
about eleven per cent of Batchtown's population," Henry
responded
frustrated.
"Even with all of the intermarriage, that's still an
outrageously high
percentage," Mulder remarked, astonished.
"It is. I agree. But I don't get into the why's or the
how's, but merely
the what can I do about it."
"And what can you do about it, Henry?"
"I alleviate the pain. I stop the bleeding. I help them
get on with
their lives without having to worry about the expense of
acquiring the
factor concentrates. I don't know why I'm able to do this Mulder.
I just
am. They accept it. I accept it," he replied, and then after
a short
pause, he looked directly at Mulder and asked him, "Can you
accept it?"
"Henry, I want to believe."
The two men finished their iced teas and Mulder informed Henry
it had been
a very long day and he was going to return to his motel room. He
made
plans with him to return the next day to talk more with Henry,
and to
possibly see him in action. They shook hands and Mulder got back
into his
car and traveled back to the Whitesburg Motor Lodge for a much
needed
rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Mulder had stopped at the Whitesburg Diner to buy
some food
to take back to the motel, drove and parked by his motel room,
stripped,
showered, and changed into a pair of comfortable sweat shorts and
a
tee-shirt, it was going on eight o'clock. When he looked at the
clock, he
was shocked to see it as late as it was, and no longer wondered
why he was
so tired, achy, and hungry.
As he pulled out all of the food he bought, he opened up one
unknown
container and chuckled when he saw the hominy grits. He'd
forgotten how
the south served grits with everything. It was never one of his
favorite
dishes in the past, but he was so hungry now he decided to give
it a try.
As he spooned the warmed over, now slightly congealed, cereal
into his
mouth, he dialed Scully's number. He listened to it ring three
times
before she picked it up.
"Hello."
"Hi. It's me."
"Hi you," she replied. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the Whitesburg Motor Lodge,'' he replied and
promptly recited the
phone number where she could reach him at the motel.
"So? What's the story with Imelda's long lost relative?" Scully teased.
"Very funny. Actually, he's nothing like what I'd expected."
"How so?" she asked curiously.
"Well, I was really expecting someone who wasn't terribly
bright and was
just going to try and avoid issues and explanations with
me."
"And?"
"I don't know what to think at this point. I mean, to be
honest? I
didn't expect any of this to pan out. I mean, I really expected
to find a
crackpot who was looking to take a few suckers for all they were
worth.
But__.'' Mulder paused and took a breath.
"But what?" Scully asked quietly.
"But he was so completely opposite of what I'd expected.
For one, the man
is intelligent. I mean he articulated explanations of hemophilia
as if
he'd invented them, and then when he explained what he did
__." Mulder
stopped speaking again.
"What does he do, Mulder?"
"I'm not sure, but then again, neither is he. I don't
know all of the
intricacies of what he calls his 'gift', but Dana, my gut feeling
is this
guy's for real."
"Fox," she sighed.
"No, wait. I know what you're going to say, and I'm
working very hard to
_not_ jump to conclusions. But that doesn't mean I need to close
my mind
to extreme possibilities too, does it?" he asked
rhetorically.
Scully sighed, smiled, and then said, "I would never
think of asking you
to do that, my love."
"Good answer, Scully."
"My mama didn't raise no stupid children, Mulder."
"Oh? You haven't spoken to Billy lately, have you."
"Mulder, let's not go there, okay?"
"Okay," he replied, and then added contritely,
"I'm sorry. That was
uncalled for on my part."
"Yes, it was, but I forgive easily," she replied.
"Thank God for small miracles," he said lightly.
"Damn straight," jested Scully.
They chatted a few more minutes, and then Scully heard the
yawn Mulder was
trying to, unsuccessfully, hold back.
"Go to sleep, Mulder. You had a long day today, and it
sounds like your
body is reacting to it."
"Yeah, I guess I am a little tired. You know, even though
I know how
bushed you were from the last couple of assignments, I really do
wish you
were here right now. I miss you, Dana," he said softly.
"Miss you too, G-Man," she replied with a slight
hitch in her voice.
"I'll speak to you tomorrow, 'kay?"
"Good night, Scully."
"Night, Mulder."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 2/9
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 3/9
He woke early, showered, and chose to dress in more casual
clothes for his
meeting with Henry later on. He was hoping for the opportunity to
watch
Henry in action, and he didn't want to put off any of Henry's
clients with
his FBI persona.
Mulder stopped at the Whitesburg Diner again, only this time
he decided to
eat in. He made himself comfortable in one of the available
booths and
waited for the waitress to come over and take his order. As he
waited,
Mulder reviewed the file he compiled about Henry Marcus from both
the
internet and the notes he compiled as a result of their meeting
yesterday.
He was startled slightly when he heard a deep, heavily
accented woman's
voice asked, "Whatcha gonnna have, hun?"
Mulder looked up to see a woman with dark brown, almost black,
hair and
heavily made up eyes staring down at him. The makeup couldn't
hide the
crows feet, but when he looked straight into her eyes, Mulder was
surprised to see they were a beautiful shade of emerald green.
"Umm, good morning," he replied almost shyly.
"How about some pancakes
and sausage?"
"All righty. You want some coffee and OJ to go with that?"
"Yes, please," he replied.
"Well, now, ain't you a right and properly mannered young
man," she said
chuckling. "You know, I think y'all could use a little
fattenin' up. How
about we throw some scrambled eggs on that plate for yer too.
That be
okay, hun?"
"Thank you, ma'am," Mulder replied with (though he
couldn't for the life
of him understand why) a slight blush.
"Oh, you are jus' the sweetest thing, aren't you,
hun?" she asked
rhetorically. "Well, my name is Mandy, so if you need
anything, you kin
just call for me right out, ya hear?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Mandy."
While Mandy sashayed off to place the order with the short
order cook,
Mulder resumed his perusal of Henry's file. Only a few minutes
passed
before Mandy returned with a glass of orange juice and a steaming
cup of
coffee. Mulder looked up, nodded and smiled his thanks, and then,
just as
Mandy turned, called out, "Mind if I ask you a question,
Mandy?"
Well, that woman could have turned on a dime, that's how
quickly she moved
back in front of Mulder's booth. "Why sure, hun! What can I
do for
y'all?"
"Mandy, have you ever heard of a man by the name of Henry
Marcus? Some
people refer to him as Reverend."
"You mean the Reverend Henry from Batchtown? Sure 'nough
I've heard of
him. Some people say he can cure any sickness there is, but he
seems to
just be helpin' those poor people with the bleedin' sickness. I'd
say
that man has been a true blessing for those people."
Mulder thanked her for her observations and made a note of
them in his
file folder. He thought it was interesting the man had a
reputation
outside of Batchtown, but apparently didn't take advantage of it
which
lent a little more credence to Marcos's story.
Mulder watched Mandy with amusement as she wiggled her hips
just a little
bit more than before as she returned to the kitchen to pick up
Mulder's
breakfast order. When she returned, sure enough there was a
helping of
scrambled eggs in addition to his pancake and sausage order.
There was
also, of course, a serving of grits in a separate bowl.
Mulder showed his gratitude by practically inhaling everything
he was
served (including the hominy grits, which Mulder realized tasted
pretty
good with a pat of butter and a couple tablespoons of maple
syrup.) He
declared his thanks and told Mandy he would most likely be back
for
dinner.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Henry was sitting on the front steps to the church when Mulder
drove up.
However, before Mulder could even say good morning to Henry, a
small
ragamuffin of a boy, about eight years old, came running up the
dirt
walkway to the church.
"Rev. Henry! Rev. Henry! He'p! We need ya up at 'are'
house real
quick!" the child cried out.
"All right,Joshua. Who's ill? Noah or Adam?"
"It's Adam, Reverend. He got it real bad this
mornin'!" Joshua replied
urgently.
"Let's go, then," he said gently.
"Henry, would it be faster to take the car?" Mulder asked hopefully.
"Thanks, Mulder, but in this case, no. Glad to see you
dressed down a
little today. You'll see what I mean in a few minutes,'' Henry
reponded.
The two adults followed as the small boy agilely maneuvered
about the low
lying bushes and plant life that covered the otherwise rocky path
they
were taking. And all of it was up hill.
Totally, up hill.
Mulder realized if Henry Marcus wasn't in good physical shape
when he
first arrived from the Philippines, he most certainly was now.
Mulder was
grateful for the regular morning jogs he took almost without fail
which
allowed him to keep up fairly well with the youngster and the
well trained
healer.
The trio traveled approximately fifteen minutes when they came
upon a
small wooden shack. Joshua pulled opened the door and shouted,
"Reverend's here! Reverend's here!"
Henry Marcos followed the youngster in, as did Mulder. Mulder
looked
about and was awestruck by what he saw. Though the room was a
hovel by DC
standards, it was remarkably neat and clean. There were small
intricate
carved wood sculptures all about the room, along with a few
pieces of
simple, sturdy, wood furniture.
Along the far side of the room were two sets of bunk beds
which sat
catty-cornered to one another. Sitting on a small stool near one
of the
beds was a young woman who looked no more than fifteen. She sat
quietly
nearby trying to place a damp cloth on the leg of the small boy
who laid
in the bottom of one of the bunks.
It was a child of about three.
Three.
Mulder thought his heart was going to break when he saw the
look of
horrific pain painted on the child's face. He watched Henry walk
over to
the child and sat down on the small stool Joshua had quickly
brought for
him. Henry looked over quickly at the young woman, and spoke
soothingly
to her.
"Now Becca, you know he's been through this before, and
he's gotten
through it. So, we'll just have to get him through again, now
won't we?"
he said soothingly.
"Oh Reverend, I keep tellin' him to be careful, but he
just don't," she
cried out.
"Becca, he's still a baby. He'll learn, don't
worry," he calmed. "Let
me help him now, okay?" Becca nodded, so Henry turned his
attention to
the young patient.
"Hey sweet, Adam. What have we here?" he asked in
soothing tones as he
gently picked up the child's leg to examine the problem.
"Mama tells me
you were playing. Were you running and playing, Adam?" he
asked in a
nonjudgmental tone.
"Mmm-hmm," the toddler whimpered in the positive.
"Poor Adam. You fell down on your knee, didn't you,
son?" Henry asked
compassionately.
"Mmm-hmm," Adam whimpered affirmatively again.
"Okay, young Adam. Let's see if we can relieve some of
this hurting for
you, okay?"
The little boy's eyes were squeezed shut at the moment as he
attempted to
keep the tears from falling, but he was not meeting with too much
success.
The leg was bent at an odd angle and the entire knee, both front
and
back, looked red, swollen, and inflamed.
Henry rubbed his hands together quickly, as if to create a
heat source via
friction, and then place one hand behind Adam's knee and the
other on the
knee cap itself. Henry simply kept his hands there for a bit.
Adam began mumbling and repeating, "Hot, hot! Hot,
hot!" over and over
again, however Henry kept his hands in place. After several
minutes
passed, Mulder observed both patient and healer.
Both had a look of calm about them. Adam, though not smiling,
was not
writhing in pain any longer either. Henry simply looked quietly
on, and
then removed his hands from Adam's leg.
"How is that, my little friend?" Henry asked the young child.
"Good."
"Does it hurt now?" Henry asked.
"No, Wev-wen Hen-we," the child whispered.
"Adam has a little trouble with his /r/ sound, but I
think he'll grow out
of it in a year or two," Henry chuckled.
Mulder nodded mutely as he gazed intensely at the child's
knee. It was as
if there were never a problem. There was no inflammation, no
redness, no
swelling. Mulder was amazed. He had a million questions to ask
and he
didn't know where to begin.
"Henry, this is incredible!" he gasped.
"Yes, Adam was definitely in a bad way."
"But you can't cure it," Mulder said with sudden
realization. "That's why
you can't leave."
"No, my gift does not seem to have such a power. It can
relieve the pain
and the symptoms of individual crises, but I can not cure the
hemophilia
itself," he concurred.
"But you were able to cure Lenore's ovarian cancer," Mulder reminded.
"Yes, but I believe I was able to do that because
Lenore's was not a
chronic condition. In other words, once the cancer is gone, so is
the
problem. My gift cannot manufacture the missing factors
hemophiliacs need
to cure the bleeding."
"That's why you remain."
"Yes. If I were not here to help Adam, he would have
hemorrhaged
internally, to death," Henry affirmed.
"Henry, he's so young__," Mulder began.
"__So I will be here for a very long time, Mulder."
"Henry, how often do you __."
CHIRRRRP! CHIRRRP!
Mulder's cellular rang and startled everyone. "__I'm
sorry. I can't
believe this thing is working way out here," he apologized.
"We're pretty high up. Probably a window of cellular
space. Don't look a
gift horse in the mouth," Henry quipped.
Mulder smiled and nodded as he opened up the small phone and
said,
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's me."
"Hey you! Scully, I just witnessed the most amazing
thing. Absolutely,
the most amazing thing. This little boy, Adam? Well, Adam was
having an
internal bleeding episode__.
"__Mulder."
"__See, he'd fallen earlier, which is not unexpected
cause he's just a
little guy, but anyway, Adam's big brother, Joshua, came running
to Henry
and we hiked all the way up to Adam's house and poor Adam was in
a lot of
pain and___."
"__Mulder."
"Adam's knee was all red and swollen and really looked
awful and Henry
simply rubbed his hands together and placed them over Adam's knee
and left
them there for a few minutes, and ___."
"___MULDER!"
"__IswearHenrymadethebleedingstop___!"
"__Mulder, listen to me!" Scully said in exasperation.
"What? Ohmigod! Are you okay? I'm sorry, I just got so
excited. Scully,
are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
"I'm fine, Mulder."
"Scully," he practically growled at hearing her use
that particular
phrase.
"No, really. I am fine, Fox."
Mulder heard the sincerity in his partner's voice, and calmed
down
immediately. "Okay. So, why did you call?"
"The UNSUB is escalating," she replied succinctly.
"What?"
"The UNSUB from the last VCS case we consulted on? The
one the local PD
kicked us off of. Well, the profile still fits, Mulder, but the
UNSUB is
escalating."
"How many?" Mulder asked as dispassionately as possible.
"Three so far over this weekend. VCS didn't notify
Skinner until early
this morning. He wants both of us to come back in for this one,
as soon
as possible," she answered.
"Damn it, Scully. Why us? I mean, can't we have one lousy
weekend to
ourselves?" Mulder responded frustrated.
"I know how you feel, Mulder. But it's starting to hit a
little too close
to home now," Scully began.
"What do you mean?"
"The UNSUB is targeting FBI agents now," she explained.
"Shit."
"That's one way to describe it," Scully retorted.
"It's gonna take me a while to drive back to DC, Scully," Mulder began.
"No, Kim's already arranged for you to fly out of
Tri-City Airport. It'll
take you a couple of hours to get there, but it'll still be less
time than
it would take for you to drive all the way back to DC. You'll be
fresher
too__," she began.
"They want me to return directly to the Hoover?" he asked.
"Actually, no. Directly to Quantico," Scully replied.
"Damn. All right, I'll get back to my motel and pack, and
fly out of
Tri-City. That's easily a hundred miles from Whitesburg. It's
gonna take
me a little while to get back there. Batchtown is a little up and
out
there in the back country, so let everyone know I'll get back as
quickly
as I can."
"Okay Mulder, don't break your neck getting here, but we
do need you here
as soon as possible. This guy's got us all a little
spooked," she said
before she realized what exactly it was she had said. "Oh
Mulder, I
didn't mean__," Scully began.
"__No offense taken, Dana. I promise I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Okay. I'll pick you up at the airport."
CLICK.
"You obviously need to leave," Henry said.
Mulder nodded as he replaced his cell phone in his back pocket.
"There's some lunatic out there who's having a field day
scaring the hell
out of law enforcement personnel. First, he took care of a pair
of
auxiliary policemen, then a couple of meter maids. Next, was a
pair of
local beat officers. Then he started moving up in rank and a
couple of
sergeants, a pair of lieutenants along with the Deputy Chief of
Police."
Mulder attempted to explain the many murders as vaguely as
possible in an
attempt to not scare the two young children present.
Henry nodded in recognition of that strategy and asked,
"Over how long of
a period of time?"
"Over several weeks. The problem is, he seems to be
escalating. There
have been three incidents over the weekend. Apparently all FBI.
That's
starting to make everyone a little nervous at the Bureau, so
everyone
who's been associated with the case is being called back
in," Mulder
explained.
"Well, then, I guess this is good bye for now," responded Henry.
"Yes. I'm sorry I have to leave so soon, Henry. I want so
much to talk
to you more about your gift."
"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder," he replied with a wry smile.
"Good. We'll talk again, soon," Mulder assured as he
offered his hand to
Henry to shake on the promise.
Henry chose to remain with Adam, so he asked Joshua to guide
Mulder back
down to the church. The youngster shyly agreed and within fifteen
minutes, Mulder was back in his car.
He returned to his motel, changed back into his FBI garb,
packed and drove
to Tri-City Airport, in good ol' Tennessee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 3/9
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 4/9
Just prior to boarding the plane in Tennessee, Mulder stopped
in the
small, airport gift shop and miraculously found the Saturday
edition of
the New York Times. He was then able to check in rather quickly,
since
he'd rolled the now empty suit bag in the carry-on duffel he was
able to
stow overhead.
As he settled in his seat he began to peruse the newspaper. An
article
dealing with spirituality and medicine immediately caught his
eye. He
read about a visit the Dalai Lama made to Beth Israel Medical
Center North
Division, in Manhattan. Mulder was fascinated to learn of the
medical
profession's increased awareness of the need to include the
practices of
spirituality in the healing process.
Mulder felt vindicated in his assertion that Henry Marcos was
the real
thing. Now the only thing he had to be concerned with was
convincing his
most skeptical partner. Mulder hoped an article in a prestigious
newspaper about a respected religious leader would add credence
to his
view.
The flight took not quite forty minutes, and since he had no
need to wait
for luggage, Mulder was able to go directly to the gate in Dulles
and hope
Scully was waiting for him. As he exited the gate, he scanned the
small
crowd in search of his beautiful, red haired partner.
Scully, on the other hand, was waiting impatiently for her
partner's
arrival. Though she hadn't realized it would happen when he'd
left Friday
morning, she came to the conclusion they would not be taking too
many
more separate weekend vacations. She missed him more than she
ever
realized was possible. She assumed he felt the same way, but she
wasn't
positive until she actually caught his eye as he walked down the
arrival
gate's path.
Mulder beamed. When he caught sight of Scully, his smile could
have lit
up the entire runway path. As he got closer and closer to her,
Mulder
walked faster and faster until he was almost running. If it
weren't for
the fact it was really happening, both Scully and Mulder would
have
thought they were the featured players in a very cliché
television soap
opera.
When Mulder reached her, his momentum caused him to drop his
bag, reach
around Scully's waist, and pick her up in a vivacious hug.
Scully,
meanwhile, did not quite expect the greeting to be as
enthusiastic as it
was and responded in the only plausible manner she could think of
.
She kissed him.
Hard.
And he responded.
Hard.
And the two of them looked at one another as if they were
looking at each
other for the first time.
It struck Mulder and Scully as rather odd that it was this
occasion that
caused them to realize with absolute certainty exactly what they
meant to
one another. After all, the Antarctica fiasco seemed to be the
natural
point for declaring their love for each another.
Yet, they had remained tentative and perhaps even a little shy
about
taking that particular step. They knew they cared for each other
more
than anyone or anything else in the world. They knew Walter
Skinner was
aware of it as well, and they were both grateful to him for not
discouraging their exploration of the relationship.
Everyone knew there was no written rule about fraternization
among
co-workers, but all of the parties concerned knew how well the
Mulder-Scully team worked together, and no one wanted to see it
derail.
The risks of that happening were greater if the two of them
became
romantically involved. It was a choice they had to consider
carefully.
But, it was on the early Saturday evening in July, at an
arrival gate in
Dulles Airport, Mulder and Scully asked themselves a very
important
question.
What choice?
They had no choice.
There was only one choice.
So as the two of them laughed and kissed while Mulder lifted
and swung his
partner around and around, they openly declared the one choice
they had
before them.
"I love you Dana Katherine Scully."
"I love you Fox William Mulder."
Mulder placed one more tender kiss on his partner's lips. He
then picked
up his duffel and walked hand in hand with Scully to her car for
the trip
back to Quantico.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Throughout the drive back to Quantico, neither agent wanted to
discuss
their current assignment. Mulder decided to share his
observations of
Henry Marcos's gift in action. His enthusiasm was infectious, and
try as
Scully might, there was no deterring him from his beliefs and she
finally
yelled, "Uncle! I give up!"
Mulder began laughing and asked her what finally changed her mind.
"Well, as soon as you brought the Dalai Lama and the New
York Times into
it, I knew there was no way I was going to win this debate,"
she replied
laughing.
Mulder smiled and thought to himself, *Do I know my Scully, or
what? I
knew the Times would give me the swing vote of confidence.*
The two of them continued their good-natured teasing of one
another until
they arrived at the Quantico Headquarters in Virginia. As Scully
parked
the car in the garage, they both became quiet and pensive. The
partners
realized it was time to go into professional mode and place their
personal
relationship on hold for now.
As the boarded the elevator, Mulder straightened his tie and
tried to
smooth out the wrinkles in his suit. He then took one long
stretch before
the elevator doors opened to the lower level offices of the
Vicious Crimes
Section of the FBI.
Both were given ID tags by the receptionist and entered the
office of the
SAIC, Ernest Thompson, affectionately known as 'ET' during off
hours, but
now demanded and deserved the utmost respect from his team.
"Agent Mulder, I am glad to see you," SAIC Thompson
greeted. "Welcome
back to you too, Agent Scully."
"Thank you, Sir," each said simultaniously.
"What's the latest information we have?" Mulder asked.
SAIC Thompson held a thick file folder in front of him and
shared the
information about each of the victims.
"The first victim was Janet Margolis who had just
graduated from the
academy. She'd been on duty for less than three months when she
was
murdered. Margolis was single and had lived in the Georgetown
area with a
roommate.
"Second, was Agent Anne Cromwell. She was a veteran of
eleven years.
Though she'd distinguished herself on a few occasions very early
in her
career, her family life became more of a priority after her first
child
was born. Cromwell had another child two years after that, and
for the
last three years she was a training instructor for new agents.
She was
Margolis's instructor at Quantico and lived in Arlington with her
husband
and two sons.
"The last of the FBI victims was Agent George Bryson.
Bryson was a
fourteen year veteran of the Bureau. He was an active field agent
who
occasionally commanded routine interventions. He distinguished
himself as
a SAIC on two occasions. Bryson was divorced and lived in the DC
area.
"All three victims were first shot in the chest and then
stabbed several
times around the gunshot wound. They were discovered in different
parts
of the DC area. Margolis was found in an alley near the Hoover,
Cromwell
was found in her car in the Quantico parking lot, and Bryson was
found in
his apartment in DC.
"The coroner was able to determine the approximate times
of death as being
between four and ten A.M. for each of them, though he knows
Margolis was
the first victim, Cromwell second, and Bryson third."
"And he was able to do that by__?" Mulder interjected.
"Blood of the first victim was found on Cromwell and of
the first two
victims on Bryson," Thompson offered.
Mulder nodded and then remarked the UNSUB was taking a great
deal of time
to get to his victims. He attacked first in DC, then at Quantico
and then
back in DC. Mulder then asked if there was anything unusual found
at the
crime scenes which deviated from those of the other victims.
"It appears to be the same MO, Agent Mulder. The victim
was shot, then
stabbed repeatedly around the gun shot wound in a geometric
pattern that
resembles a triangle. There does not seem to be any other clues
than that
which we've seen already. Other than the fact the UNSUB killed
three
victims in under forty-eight hours. This is new. As well as the
fact the
victims are no longer local law enforcement, but are FBI
agents."
"He's trying to tell us something," Mulder said softly.
"What?" asked Scully.
"I don't know yet, but it's here. He's telling us his
plans, but I can't
get a handle on it yet. Sir, are there pictures of the victims
and crime
scenes available?" asked Mulder.
"Of course. Folder's in front of you and Agent Scully."
"Thank you," he said as he reached over for the folder.
"All right. It's late, and I know you just arrived from
out of town Agent
Mulder. Let's break for a sixty minute dinner break and then
return here.
This way, Agent Mulder, you'll have a chance to review the file
with
Agent Scully."
"Thanks for the light reading material while I enjoy my
dinner," Mulder
replied with a slight smile.
Thompson chuckled and shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"See you in sixty,
Agents. Dismissed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scully and Mulder chose to go to one of the better eateries in
the area
that was known for good food and fast service. Most of the agents
went
there or to one of the fast food restaurants nearby. The two
partners
decided to treat themselves to something a little more
substantial.
When the food was served, Mulder began chuckling out loud.
"What's so funny?" Scully asked.
"Oh, nothing really. I'd been getting so used to being
served grits with
everything and anything, my first inclination was to search for
it under
the steak and potatoes," he laughed.
"I don't know how anyone could eat that stuff. It tastes
like bad Elmer's
glue," Scully remarked.
"Oh, I don't know. I kind of developed a taste for
it," he responded,
then shrugged, and picked up his knife and fork to attack his
steak.
They'd finished their dinner and just as Mulder was debating
whether or
not to order coffee for there or to go, he heard a deep voice
greet him
and his partner.
"Mulder, Scully. May I join you for coffee?" Walter Skinner asked.
"Sir, we didn't know you'd be coming out to Quantico this
evening,"
responded Scully, "Please, sit down and join us."
"We're do back in about fifteen minutes, Sir," Mulder said.
"That's okay, Mulder. I know the boss," Skinner
replied with a wry smile.
"Besides, 'ET' and I go way back together. I asked him to
notify me when
you arrived, so I could join you in tonight's briefing. This case
not
only directly affects the reputation of the bureau, but its
morale as
well. I hate to think this bastard believes he's put one over on
us."
"We agree with you totally, Sir, so perhaps we should get
back," suggested
Scully tentatively.
"Dana," Walter responded softly, "have your
coffee. I'll take full
responsibility if we're late. Besides, this is the only
restaurant in the
area that serves a key lime pie that I'll break every diet and
health rule
in the book to have," he said with a chuckle.
So, the three relaxed over cups of coffee and a slice of key
lime pie
split three ways. It was very good, and Skinner swore next time
he was
getting his own piece, since the 'innocent' looking red head
hogged most
of it.
When they returned to the office, Mulder, Scully, and Skinner
found they
were not, in fact, the last to arrive. They sat together in one
area
while the other agents filed back in and clustered in groups they
felt
comfortable with as well.
"Walter," greeted Ernest Thompson warmly, "It's
good you're able to join
us. We need all of the best minds to solve this one." Then
turning to
address the other agents in the room he said, "Agents, I
assume you all
recognize Assistant Director Skinner?"
Several of the agents murmured and/or nodded their heads
either in
recognition and/or surprise the AD would make an appearance.
"Sir?" Thompson now asked more formally. "Would
you like to address the
group?"
"Thank you, SAIC Thompson," Walter replied equally
as formally. "Agents,
as I said to my two companions less than twenty minutes ago, it
is
imperative we catch this UNSUB. He or she is not only affecting
the
reputation of the FBI, but the fact that the victims being
targeted are
FBI personnel will have a devastating affect on Agents' morale.
"I know I plan on doing everything I possibly can to
develop strategies to
prevent this sonofabitch from attacking our own. I know I can
count on
all of you as well," Skinner concluded.
There was now more murmuring and heads nodding. Scully and
Mulder
unconsciously sat up a little straighter as they took personal
pride in
the positive acknowledgment of their mentor's words.
Time was spent on filling in any of the gaps that were not
filled in the
file. The agents spent time brainstorming and discussing among
themselves
their ideas for possible motivations on the part of the UNSUB.
They also
attempted to develop some strategies that would thwart any future
attempts
on the part of the UNSUB.
After about ninety minutes, SAIC Thompson called everyone back
to the
large group to share any and all ideas they felt might have yet
to be
addressed.
A couple of hands went up and some questions about details
regarding the
positioning of the bodies as well as the locations of the bodies.
SAIC
Thompson answered those questions to the best of his ability.
Another hand went up. SAIC Thompson recognized it. "Agent Mulder."
"Yes, Sir. I'm a little concern with the speed with which
the UNSUB
carried out these last attacks. His MO in the past had him
committing the
murders over periods of weeks. The amount of time he's taken in
committing these last three murders indicates a state of high
anxiety,
panic, or excitement.
"Now, I understand it's difficult to consider the UNSUB's
behavior in any
form or manner as being sane or rational, but within the universe
of a
serial killer there are certain rules of behavior which may be
applied.
In this case, the UNSUB seems to be acting rashly. I don't know
why, but
I suspect it's because he's getting closer and closer to his
intended
target," explained Mulder.
"Target? You believe there's an actual intended target,
Mulder?" asked
Agent Newton incredulously. "What evidence points you in
that direction?"
"Our UNSUB has been following a definite pattern all
along, Newton. We
know his first targets were the underlings in the local PD. He
steadily
worked his way up the ladder of seniority in the local PD until
he reached
the Deputy Chief of Police. He didn't attempt to murder the Chief
of
Police, because that wasn't his intended target," Mulder
assessed.
"But Mulder, couldn't it be the perp just knew he
couldn't get to the
Chief of Police. I mean, maybe he figured he was too well
protected, and
to make an attempt on the Chief's life would be way too
risky," Newton
proposed.
"You're forgetting one very important attribute of serial
killers,
Newton," Mulder began. Upon seeing Newton's, as well as
everyone else's
questioning gaze, Mulder continued. "Serial killers believe
themselves to
be invincible. They don't see themselves as being vulnerable and
are
willing to expose themselves to any risk.
"Our UNSUB didn't go after the Chief of Police, because
he didn't need to.
It would break his pattern of three anyway. There's something
about the
number three. I'm sure of it," Mulder said with frustration.
"Okay people, we've done some good work here tonight.
Let's break now and
come back together at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. AD Skinner,
will
you be remaining with us, on call, for the duration?" SAIC
Thompson asked.
"I don't know about the duration, but I will be on site
for the next few
days at the very least," Skinner replied.
"Excellent. We could certainly use your input," he
responded. "Agents,
you are dismissed. AD Skinner, before you leave, may I have a
word with
you?"
"Certainly," Skinner responded directly to Thompson.
He then turned and
spoke to Mulder and Scully. "Mulder, promise me you won't be
up all night
trying to get into this guy's head. Please?"
"I promise, Sir."
And then Walter Skinner turned to Scully and whispered,
"Scully? Promise
me you will see to it he does not stay up all night trying to get
into the
head of this UNSUB?"
Scully's mouth gaped, and Walter, who was trying desperately
to keep a
straight face, gave up and guffawed. Both Mulder and Scully then
started
laughing as well, and Scully held up her two fingers as in the
Scout Oath,
and promised to do her best to do her duty to God and her
country.
With that, Skinner shooed them out of the office and turned
his attention
back to Ernest Thompson. "So, 'ET', what do you need me to
reassure you
about?"
Now it was Thompson's turn to have his mouth gape open.
"How did you
know?"
"Because I know people can't believe how Fox Mulder comes
up with the
theories he comes up with and even more amazing to them is just
how often
he's right on the button with those theories," Skinner
replied.
"But Walter, what's with this number three theory of his?
I mean, the
only people killed in a group of three were the FBI agents. Why
does he
think the number three is significant?" Thompson asked.
"'ET', how many local PD officers were killed?" Skinner asked.
"Eleven. They were killed in pairs until the very last
group. The two
lieutenants were killed during the same time range as the Deputy
Chief of
Police."
"Well, to Mulder's way of thinking, there is a pattern of
some sort here.
Maybe he started out killing in pairs, but with the murders of
the
lieutenants and the Deputy Chief, he began a pattern of threes.
The death
of our three agents certainly would match that pattern,"
Skinner replied.
"Well, he's your agent. I know you tout him as the next
coming of the
messiah, but this is serious shit, Walter. We need answers, and
we need
them fast."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next couple of days and nights found the agents in a total
state of
frustration. Particularly Mulder, who under his boss's advice and
his
partner's very dutiful and watchful eye (and nose, and mouth, and
arms,
and legs, and beautiful body,) had purposely avoided going into
overdrive
during the night to get into the killer's head.
So the days and evenings were particularly aggravating for
Mulder, because
he felt he wasn't accomplishing anything. Each night, when he,
Scully,
and Skinner met for dinner at their Key Lime Pie Pub, as they
were want to
call it now, Mulder continued to harp on the notion that he was
missing
something about the number three.
On the third night of the operation, while each agent consumed
their own
slice of key lime pie, Skinner's cell phone rang. When he hung
up, he
informed Mulder and Scully they were needed back at Quantico.
The UNSUB struck again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mulder, was among a dozen agents who went to the sites of the
three new
crime scenes. He was the first to observe aloud how much closer
in
proximity the three victims were. They were within three city
blocks of
one another; two of the three were within thirty feet of each
other.
While the other agents scribbled notes regarding the
surroundings of the
crime scene, Mulder, Scully, and Skinner concentrated on each of
the
victims themselves. Skinner, who made it his business to be well
versed
with regards to pertinent information about those agents under
his
jurisdiction, was able to provide general personal background
information
on the three agents based upon their ID tags.
Agents one and two were partners. They were six and eight year
veterans
of the Bureau. They each had exemplary records and a dozen
commendations
between the two of them. Agent one was Dennis Rourke, married for
fifteen
years and the father of twin sons and one daughter. Agent two was
Richard
Timpson. He too was married, for almost twenty-one years, and was
the
father of three daughters.
Scully determined the cause of death was most likely the same
as the other
victims. Gunshot to the chest and then stab wounds around the
gunshot
wound. She did indicate the first and second victims were most
likely
shot first and then the UNSUB went back to make the stab marks.
Scully noted there was more blood than usual surrounding the
first of the
two victims which meant, due to their close proximity to one
another, the
UNSUB had to act more quickly and shoot to kill first, then took
his time
to make the numerous stab wounds.
"Which means the stab wounds are just him having fun with
us, Scully.
They mean nothing. The UNSUB's main focus is to kill his intended
target
with the gunshot. The stab wounds are not ritualistic as he
wanted us to
believe in the beginning. Now, he's showing us they were done to
throw us
off track.
"Damn it, Scully. He's becoming more and more public with
these acts.
These guys were his way of getting some target practice in a
public
place," Mulder railed.
When they viewed the site of the third victim, visiting Oregon
State
Field Office Director Michael Halpern, the evidence only
confirmed
Mulder's beliefs. Skinner was particularly upset at this site, as
he'd
only just met with Halpern and other Field Office Directors a few
days
before.
Halpern had been on the force for twenty -two years and was
looking
forward to an early retirement when he turned fifty-five. Skinner
knew
Halpern planned on taking his wife of thirty years on a cruise to
Alaska
when he retired. It saddened Skinner to think she would never
take that
trip with her husband.
"He was in the wrong state at the wrong time, Scully. The
UNSUB is toying
with us. Look where he chose to assassinate the regional
director. Right
in the heart of DC. Public. Very, very public. He's finished with
the
target practice, Scully. He's ready to go for his intended
target,"
Mulder insisted.
"Mulder, you can't be certain that Halpern wasn't the
intended target, can
you?" Scully asked.
"I told you the number three was important. No, he hasn't
hit his target
yet, but soon, Scully, soon. And he's going to hit all three
victims at
once. I know it. Don't ask me how I know it, I just do. Damn, I
wish I
had a clue as to who this bastard is!" Mulder cried out in
frustration.
Skinner took note of the look of intense fatigue on Mulder's
face and made
an administrative decision. "C'mon Mulder. Scully. It's time
to leave
the scene to the clean up crew. Let's go home."
Reluctantly, Mulder, as well as the dozen or so other agents
did just
that. They'd agreed to meet back at Quantico at eight o'clock the
following morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 4/9
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