From: smartin@goodmedia.com (Sheryl Martin)
Date: Sat, 26 Sep 1998 16:20:25 -0400
Subject: Dragons in The Playground (1/5)


Please Archive... grin...

All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No
infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...
I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh...

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@goodmedia.com

Summary: A routine request turns into a possible nightmare for Scully...
Spoilers: Takes place AFTER "The End" but BEFORE The Movie... confused
yet???
Rating: R for content - WARNING: This story contains discussions of child
abuse and of child molestors and may not be suitable for young readers...
please, be careful...



Dragons in The Playground (1/5)
by Sheryl Martin


His hands ran over the smooth wood, caressing every delicate curve as the
sandpaper ground down any opposition to his touch. Drawing one finger
along the sightless face, he smiled. It had been a long time. But good
things come to whose who wait.

Putting the small wooden carving aside, he reached for another cigarette
and wondered where to start this time.

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

The large area knows as the Pit was filled with FBI agents, all swarming
around their own desks and those of their fellow agents. Visitors
temporarily assigned to Washington; new arrivals from Quantico anxiously
awaiting their first assignment; oldtimers who had been graciously bumped
out of their offices for the few weeks remaining until their retirement.

Mulder looked across the desktop at his partner, flicking an empty
sunflower seed over into the centre of her relatively clean desk; in
contrast to his own quagmire in front of him. Their desks were facing each
other; giving him a clear view of both the water cooler and Dana Scully.

"Cheer up, Scully." He offered. "At least we're finally out of the
basement..." His attempt at humour shrivelled under her annoyed glare.

"Mulder, I realise that until they decide what to do with us that we're
stuck in some sort of limbo..." Tucking a red strand of hair behind one
ear, she shut her eyes as a particularly loud group of agents walked by.
"But this is beginning to remind me of those torture technique films they
showed us in Quantico."

He nodded, cupping one ear in mock agreement as a series of phones began
to ring in a clattering symphony behind him.

"Although I guess we should be grateful..." Pushing the shell into an open
area she leaned over it; expertly flicking it back onto his desk,
practically to the same spot it had started from.

Mulder reached down, balancing the empty oval on the edge of his
fingernail. "Well, could be worse - could be Alaska." 

Closing one eye, he sighted down across the two desks, finally letting
loose with a single calculated flick.

The small black shell impacted at the slight hollow at the base of her
throat, sliding down into her blouse.

Sitting back with a satisfied smirk, Mulder waited.

Pursing her lips, Scully looked discreetly down and then at Mulder; her
intense stare lethal to any other man. Her shoulders shook slightly; as if
preparing herself to shift the shell to a less annoying place but waiting
for the right moment.

His eyes broke away suddenly from hers, sighting across the Pit to a
distant target. Scully turned around, arching her back slightly to take
advantage of the distraction.

Jackie St. George limped towards them, leaning heavily on a wooden cane.
Finally reaching Scully's desk, she grinned at the two agents; balancing
herself on the wooden edge.

"I didn't know you had a walking cast put on." Scully gestured at the cast.

"I didn't." Pulling up the edge of her jeans, she revealed a jagged edge
around the cast; obviously cut off to accommodate the running shoe
sticking out.

"Don't start..." Jackie wagged her finger at the scowling woman. "I'm a
fast healer to start with, and I can't stand using crutches for too
long..."

Mulder chuckled. "And let me guess - Marty left town on a work assignment
and you can't stand being in bed that long... alone."

St. George grinned. "And I never thought once about calling you, Mulder."

Scully let a snicker escape as she looked down at her desktop, searching
for another wayward sunflower shell.

"Actually..." St. George put a hand into her jacket pocket, withdrawing a
transparent evidence bag. "I'm here on semi-official business." She handed
the bundle to Mulder. "Devon gave me a call. Seems we've grabbed a child
molester up in Toronto and we suspect he's been a busy boy down here as
well..."

Opening the Ziploc bag, Mulder withdrew the small carved rabbit. "And you
think he's been active recently?" He examined the wooden creature, cupping
it in the palm of his hand. "How far back do you want to run in the
database?"

"Ten, maybe twenty years..." Jackie sighed. "This monster's been working
the carny circuit and claims to have been active for decades. We only
caught him because he 'found God' and wanted to repent." She snorted.
"Don't get me started on the vengeance part..."

Scully reached over and took the rabbit from her partner, frowning as she
passed it from one hand to the other.

"We know the carny he worked for went back and forth across the border for
years." St. George continued. "And half the problem is going to be finding
victims not only willing to testify, but if they even remember after all
this time."

"I thought you had him already pegged on other charges." Scully asked. 

"Yes, but only dating back seven years or so, and only in Canada right
now. He's not being that forthcoming because he wants a chance of not
being classified as a dangerous offender; which means that we can keep him
in prison indefinitely for treatment. He wants to serve his time and then
leave, flush in his knowledge that he's repaid society for his crimes and
all that psychobabble." She sighed. "We've got three little girls over the
past five years, but he's hinted at more than that. And Dev thought that
with the carnival running in both countries that we might have a chance of
getting him some serious time here as well, if we have to let him go
anytime this decade."

Mulder nodded, his finger drawing circles on the desktop. "I can get Danny
to patch your information into the main database, and then..." He frowned
as Scully got to her feet suddenly, putting the small carving down. 

"Just have to do some adjustments..." She shot a glance at Mulder. "Seems
your shell isn't settling well..." Turning on her heel, she pushed her way
through a particularly large group of agents and into the corridor.

"I'm not going to even ask..." St. George muttered to herself. "But she
did seem kinda pale. Did you guys eat in the cafeteria again?"

Mulder rose from his desk, his forehead creased as he watched her
disappear from sight. "I don't know..." His frown increased as he began to
follow her, his long strides easily letting him cross the room as the
Canadian limped behind; using her cane liberally to clear a path.

Seeing the redhead duck into the womens' washroom in the corridor, Mulder
paused long enough to crook a finger at St. George before walking into the
washroom as well.

Scurrying to the door herself, the Canadian leaned against the door on
sentry duty; smiling at the frowning faces as they passed her by.

***********

Scully stood over one of the sinks, taking handfuls of the cold water
running from the tap and rubbing it over her face; ignoring the damage to
her makeup. 

Pulling a paper towel from the dispenser, Mulder handed it to her with a
worried smile.

Taking it instinctively, she stared at him for a second before speaking.
"Mulder, this IS the ladies' room..."

"Well, I was looking for a date for the annual FBI ball, and..." His
attempt at humour fell flat as he stared at her, taking in the almost
panicky manner of his partner. Her eyes were deep and dark, reminding him
of a child just woken from a nightmare. Then just as suddenly the mask
fell back into place and he was facing Special Agent Dana Scully.

***********

Assistant Director Skinner strode down the corridor, nodding politely to
the people he passed on the way to the Pit and by default, Mulder and
Scully. His eyes spotted a familiar figure casually leaning against the
door of the woman's washroom, twirling a cane as she smiled at the agents
walking by, dissuading them from entering merely by attitude.

"St. George..." He started, coming up alongside her. "How's the leg?"

"Fine." She rapped the cast with the cane. "Amazing how fast people move
out of your way."

Skinner chuckled, letting an uncharacteristic smile flash across his face.
"Maybe it's just you." His eyes flew to the closed door. "Everything okay
here?"

"Ah... yah..." The Canadian responded quickly. "Dana wasn't feeling too
well and just needs a few minutes alone..." She shrugged. "You know us
women."

The A.D. frowned. "No, I don't. Which explains a lot of things..."

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

Mulder jammed his hands into his pockets, chewing liberally on his bottom
lip. "I'll tell Jackie that we'll pass on this; that I'll give her the
name of another agent to do the database checks..." He stopped as she
lifted her head to stare at him, her hands still clutching the soggy paper
towel.

"You think I can't handle it because..." The challenge in her words
startled him, but not entirely.

"Because it's got to do with young girls. And..." Pausing, Mulder chose
his words slowly and carefully. "I thought that because of Emily..." He
stopped as she shook her head emphatically in reply. "I'd like to buy a
vowel then..."

Patting the last drops of water away from her forehead, she stared at her
reflection in the mirror, not looking at her partner. "It's got nothing to
do with her, Mulder... I just have a few details that I need to check out
while you process the request. It's not a two-person job to slide the disk
into the computer and hit the keys, is it?" Tossing the damp towel into
the garbage, she sighed. "I just need a bit of time..."

Stepping briskly towards the door, she found her exit barred by Mulder's
outstretched arm.

"Not this time, Dana..."

The use of her first name wasn't lost on either one of them.

"You can cut me out of a lot of things when it delves into your personal
life, but when it affects your work here then I deserve to know." His
voice dropped to a softer tone. "Scully, after all we've gone through..."

The redhead looked at him for a second, her mouth opening a fraction of an
inch; the mask cracking slightly. Then it fell shut again, and she shook
her head; ducking under his arm and pushing the door open.

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

Skinner opened his mouth as the woman strode away from him, not seeing the
A.D. where he stood by the Canadian. Then Mulder appeared, his eyes
darting from the stony face of his superior to his confused friend then to
the shrinking form of his partner in the distance.

"Ah... later..." Muttering to Skinner, he trotted down the corridor,
leaving St. George with the now quite curious A.D.

Skinner looked down at the slack-jawed CSIS agent, his jaw clenching and
unclenching. He didn't need to say anything to get his question and
assumed answer across.

"Ah... I... ah... they... oh, merde!" With a shrug she began to limp down
the hallway after the pair, her pace increasing as she retreated.

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

"Scully... Scully!" Mulder pushed the door open to the underground parking
lot, seeing the diminutive figure heading for her car. "Dammit, Scully..."
Breaking into a full run, he skidded up to the driver's window as the
engine started.

"Scully..." He panted as the glass slid down, the stoic stare freezing him
in place. "I want to help you... but you've got to tell me what's going on
here..."

She nodded, putting the car in gear. "I will, Mulder - right after I
either confirm or deny something for myself..."

Putting her foot down on the gas pedal, she backed the car away from the
angry and confused man.

"Come on, Scully..." Mulder pleaded loudly as the car began to pick up
speed as it headed up the ramp.

Suddenly he heard the squeal of brakes and then silence. 

Mulder ran around the cement pillar at the edge of the ramp and saw the
car sitting still in the middle of the road.

With a red-faced and breathless St. George standing in front of it. 

Slamming her cane down on the hood, Jackie wheezed as she tried to catch
her breath; her palms resting on the heated metal.

"Right now Skinner is about five minutes behind me, wanting to know what
I'm doing letting the two of you take over washrooms for private meetings.
And I'll be damned if I'm going to face him without a good story." She
panted. "And you made me run, dammit..."

Shaking her head with a trace of a smile, Scully reached over and opened
the passenger door; unlocking the back ones as well. Mulder slid into the
back seat silently, his eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror as she
stared the car up again.

Reaching into a pocket, St. George popped the top off a plastic bottle and
dry-mouthed two pills.

"Don't even mention it." She warned Scully as the redhead glanced over.
"I'll try to put this down to hustling away from Skinner..." Wiping the
moisture off her forehead with a jacket sleeve, she tried to smile.
"Besides, while you can just shoot Mulder, it takes a bit more to slow me
down."

"I was going to stop anyway..." The low whisper added to the glance in the
mirror to Mulder spoke more than any apology could.

Her voice suddenly strong again, Scully continued. "Tell me the
particulars of your case."

Pulling a bent folder from a pocket of her combat jacket, Jackie opened it
and began to read.

"Joseph David Fantana, age 55. Worked most of his life on the carny
circuit as a general labourer. Put up the tents, clean out the cages, that
sort of stuff."

"Anything ever bite him?" Mulder asked from the back seat.

St. George shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. A few injuries here and
there from the work, but not enough to make him change jobs." She flipped
a page. "Said in his confession that he used to frequent playgrounds
nearby the carnival on his time off, handing out flyers for the show while
checking out the little girls."

"What was his M.O.?" Scully asked in a calm voice, turning the wheel as
they headed out onto the highway.

"He usually chose dark-haired girls anywhere from ten to thirteen, talked
them into coming around to a secluded spot in the part to show them some
magic tricks he had picked up from the entertainers." Jackie paused. "Need
I point out that I want to show him some rope tricks..."

"Keep going." Scully interrupted, staring at the road intently.

"He would fondle the girls and then let them leave; continuing this until
either the carnival left town or someone got suspicious. The problem was
that child abuse back in the seventies was just beginning to be realised
as the problem it is today - I don't think half of the victims knew what
they were experiencing had a name, much less being taken seriously by
adults." Sighing, she turned the page." As a sort of goodbye present when
they moved on, he would give his favourite a wooden carving." She tapped
the evidence bag in her other pocket. "The problem here is that we have no
idea how many children he molested, or the degree of the molestation; like
that matters. He confessed to being active at least back to 1970, but we
have no way of verifying that..." A wary glance at Scully. "And you have
something to add to this, I assume. Or are we just looking for a good
reason to go to the beach to play hooky for the day?"

The redhead nodded, turning the wheel as they headed down a small suburban
street. "I think I might know one of the victims..." The words came out in
a measured low tone, sending a shiver along Mulder's spine.

Turning once again, she pulled into a driveway; turning the engine off.

St. George looked at Scully, then back at Mulder. Rubbing his chin, he put
a hand gently on the driver's shoulder.

"Scully... this is your mother's house..."

She nodded, opening the door. Mulder hurriedly opened the car door behind
her, stepping out in time to take ahold of her arm. "It's not..." He
paused, licking his lips as he fumbled for the words. "It's not anyone in
your family, is it?"

Sliding out of the passenger seat, Jackie got to her feet slowly; using
the cane for support. Scully stared straight ahead, her hands resting on
the doorframe.

"I think it might be..." Shaking her head, she began to walk up the path.
"I have to check first before I say anything."

Following her close behind, Mulder gently touched her shoulder again. "I'd
like to think you could trust me..." The words were said with a touch of
humour, mixed in with a sadness that tore at her heart.

Turning, she sighed. "Mulder, I'll trust you with the truth - not what I
think might be the truth. Not yet."

The front door opened before they got there, Margaret Scully wiping her
hands on an apron and puzzlement registered on her face.

"Dana... I thought you weren't coming up until the weekend..." She took in
the other faces, her expression changing as she saw their seriousness.
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mom..." Hugging her tightly, Scully smiled. "I just need to
check something down in the basement." Brushing by her mother, the petite
woman disappeared down the hallway and down a set of stairs.

"Yes, well..." Turning back to the other two agents, Maggie tried to
smile. "I'll put up the kettle for tea. And I just made some banana bread,
so you can take some of that home for later..." She gestured at St.
George. "And you get in here and get off that cane before you wear
yourself out."

"Yah, well..." The Canadian saw Mulder's head jerk a fraction towards the
kitchen as he took a step towards the basement door. "Actually, I could
use a good cuppa right about now..."

Leading the elder Scully into the kitchen, St. George glanced back to see
Mulder heading down the stairs after his partner.

The basement was full of shifting shadows, the single unshielded light
bulb swinging back and forth as he descended to the bottom. Using one hand
to shield his eyes, Mulder looked to his right; seeing a tool bench and
shelves filled with cans and jars of food. 

A sudden crash came from his right; drawing his attention. Scully had
pulled down a second large cardboard box from the stack against the far
wall; her suit jacket already haphazardly tossed over a loose chair
sitting nearby. Hurriedly putting the flaps down on the box she had
wrestled down from the top of the pile, she stood on tiptoe again;
reaching for the next box.

Stepping behind her he easily reached out and over her grasping hands,
taking the box down over her head and placing it on the floor between them.

Without a word she knelt down, her cream-coloured blouse already stained
with perspiration as she avoided his gaze; digging deep in the box past
the stuffed animals gathered on the top.

"Scully..." Taking a deep breath, Mulder watched her rummage in the box.
"What are you looking for?" His voice cracked on the last word, as if he
already knew the answer.

Suddenly she froze, her face expressionless as she slowly withdrew her
hand from the box - clutching a familiar wooden carving.

"Oh, Scully..." Kneeling down beside her, he carefully took it from her
shaking fingers, staring at the rabbit. "Is it..." He couldn't finish the
sentence; afraid to even think the words.

"No..." The soft whisper-sob came out. "It's Melissa's. It's one of her
old toys. She gave it to me a long time ago." Her eyes remained fixed on
the black depths of the box. 

She felt a hand lightly press against the small of her back; the moist
fabric clinging to his hand as she stared into the darkness then back at
the sightless creature in his hands. "It's the same..." The murmured words
were a statement, not a question.

Mulder sucked his breath in sharply. "What do we say to your mother?" His
hand began to move in small circles on her back; his contact his only
expression of his concern.

She turned to look at him, the shadows of the boxes nearby hiding part of
her face. "We don't tell her anything until we confirm that this is one
of... those carvings." Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. "I can't do
this to her. Not without knowing the entire story."

"But we might never know the whole story, Scully..." Mulder prompted
gently. "It's possible that we can't ever know the entire truth..."

She nodded. "But I can't do this to Mom again - let Missy die again." She
shook her head, slumping against his shoulder in her weariness. "Not until
I have the full story. And if that's what it is, then I can tell her." 

Mulder nodded, hearing the pain in her voice. Putting his arm around her
shoulders, he began to rock slightly from side to side; trying to comfort
what he could never understand.

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

"So a few more weeks and I'll be as good as new..." Jackie's voice drifted
lower as she spied the two agents appearing from around the corner.

"Dana?" Maggie Scully got to her feet, a worried look on her face. "Are
you okay?"

Glancing at Mulder, the redhead nodded. "I just... I had to check on
something in one of those boxes I stored here." She shot a look at St.
George, silencing her friend.

"Sure, honey... I understand. After all, I didn't expect all of you to
take everything you own. Besides, I like having something down in the
basement that reminds me of when the house was full of children..."
Turning back to the sink, she put the empty mug down; filling it with
water.

The Canadian turned her head slightly, catching Mulder's eye. He shifted
the jacket in his arms, revealing the wooden creature for a second; then
hiding it again.

"Ah, well... we better get back to work before Skinner puts out an APB on
us..." Getting to her feet awkwardly, Jackie put her mug in the sink
beside the older Scully's.

Margaret escorted the trio to the door, her attention focused on her
youngest daughter. Giving Mulder and St. George a warm hug, she turned to
Dana.

"I don't know what you're hiding..." She put up a hand to silence the
protest. "Dana, I carried you for nine months and knew every move you made
- why would you think I would suddenly not know you're upset over
something. Just promise me that when you get it all sorted out, you'll let
me know."

Scully nodded, her eyes darting from the wooden planks on the porch to her
friends and then back to her mother's face.

"I promise I'll be back." She forced a smile onto her face. "Besides,
Mulder needs to put on a few pounds..." Leading the two agents down the
driveway, she waved at the figure in the window until they had pulled onto
the road and out of sight.

"If this man had anything to do with Melissa, what age do you think it
was?" Mulder was driving now, his knuckles white where his hands gripped
the steering wheel. Beside him Scully sat; the wooden rabbit in her lap.

"I don't remember exactly when Missy got this, but it was when I was about
seven or eight. She would have been about ten or so..." Her hand wandered
over the sightless carving. "We were in San Diego at the time; stayed
there for a few years..." She turned her head towards the back seat. "Do
you have any indication that this Fantana had been active so long ago?"

Flipping through the pages, Jackie sighed. "I can't say either way. He's
fifty-five right now, so in the seventies he would have been in his
twenties... it's possible..." She tapped Mulder's shoulder from behind.
"From your profiles, I'd not count out that he's been around for that
long."

Mulder nodded. "First thing we do is drop that figure off at the lab to
see if it's really been carved by the same man, then feed your data into
our system and see what it comes up with. There must have been a lot of
carnivals back then, but there must be records somewhere of what towns
they were in, especially if they were near a naval base. I'll tell them to
cross-reference with the DOD in case they had any security or legal
concerns come up along the way with these caravans."

St. George nodded. "Got it all here." She tapped her pocket. Pausing for a
second, she reached over and put her hand on the redhead's shoulder.
"Dana, I'm so bloody sorry..." The sigh was low and mournful. "God, if I
had had any idea..."

Scully reached back, patting the hand lightly. "How could you have known?
Or guessed? It's not exactly something you assume to check on..." Her hand
strayed back to the carving. "I want to hope that it's not true, but..."
An angry shake of the head. "This one is so much like the one you showed
us that I don't see any other way unless the results prove different." Her
eyes flew to Mulder's face as he continued to drive. "Then I can talk to
my mother. But right now I can't put this weight on her without some
facts." Letting out a deep sigh, she slumped lower in her seat.

Mulder heard a loud grumble from the back seat. 

"To have this much bad karma I must have been Genghis Khan. Or his horse."

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

The lab was surprisingly quiet, with only one technician on duty.
Recognising him from previous visits, Mulder smiled at the man.

"Agent Fontaine..." The young blond man looked up quickly from the stack
of papers he had been studying, returning the smile with a polite nod. 

"Mulder... you still owe me that ten bucks from the last bet you lost." He
nodded again towards the two women. "And I'm willing to bet that this is
Agent Scully... and the infamous Canadian; right?"

St. George leaned in towards Scully, speaking in a stage whisper. "Wonder
how Mulder described you..."

She shot back. "And you?"

Pulling out the evidence bag from one pocket and the Scully toy from the
other, Mulder presented the pair to the technician. "I need you to run
tests on these two items - probably no prints, but I need you to find out
if they were made by the same man. We can give you data on this one..." He
shook the tagged plastic bag. "But the other we don't have anything on..."

Fontaine looked up at him, confusion clouding his face. "What?" He glanced
around the circle. "I don't understand..."

Mulder looked at Scully, then back to the other agent. "What are you
talking about?"

Hefting the bag in one hand and the carving in the other, the young man
walked over to a nearby desk; opening a drawer. "A ten year old girl was
found dead a week ago in Eastern Pennsylvania. She was reported missing a
month ago by her parents in Michigan. They found her in a wooded area with
this by her body..." He pulled out another evidence bag; clearly stamped
with the FBI logo. Putting it down on the desk, he looked at the small
statue sitting beside the other two. "I'd say it's a pretty close match -
how about you?"

"Jeez..." St. George whispered. Pulling a computer tape from her pocket,
she tossed it to Fontaine. "This man was in custody over three months ago.
And he claims to be the original creator of these things..."

Fontaine's face twisted into a frown. "The autopsy came back showing that
she died of snakebite." He took a breath before continuing. "She was
sexually assaulted before she was bitten, we can ascertain that much."

Jackie shook her head. "Fantana never killed. Not that he told us..." She
shook her head. "Either way, he wasn't out in time to do this one."
Rubbing her temples, she groaned. "And I am getting a serious headache..."

A cough came from behind them. The trio turned to see the extremely stern
face of Assistant Director Skinner; standing in the doorway with both
hands on his hips. Fontaine swallowed and looked down at his papers.

St. George moaned. "A VERY bad headache..."

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

Dragons in The Playground (2/5)
by Sheryl Martin

"I'm willing to overlook a few...irregularities in your daily routines..."
Sitting behind his desk, the A.D. frowned at the three agents. "But your
behaviour so far today has been less than... stellar..."

"Walter, it's my fault." St. George spoke first. "I have an official
request for information that I decided to pass through Mulder because...
well, you know how I feel about paperwork..." The weak smile fell flat as
Skinner's frown increased.

"This has nothing to do with the behaviour exhibited by all of you in the
hall." His voice rose on the last word, making it a question. The tall man
gestured to a file folder on his desk. "If you two have that much free
time, then maybe you should be dealing with this case in Michigan
yourselves. Unless..." His eyes narrowed as they focused in directly on
Scully, sitting across from him. "There are some personal details that I
need to be aware of that would impair your dealing with this case." 

"Sir..." Scully started, her voice steady while twisting her fingers
together in her lap.

"Walt..."

"Shut up for just a second, Jackie..." Skinner shot across the room,
looking back at the redhead.

Glancing quickly at the Canadian, Scully continued. "Sir, I may have
evidence that relates to the case Jackie brought us. And with this new
information that this case and that of St. George's might be related, I
request permission to work on them."

Mulder shifted nervously in his chair. The effect wasn't lost on the A.D.

"You have a problem with that, Mulder?"

Rubbing the underside of his chin, the man shrugged. "As long as we're not
busy, I don't see a problem fitting it into our schedule." The neutral
tone relayed the opposite to Skinner, who looked over their heads to the
woman standing by the door.

"I'll let you run with this as long as you keep me up to date on what's
happening - along with CSIS." His eyes locked with the Canadian. "And
given the delicate nature, let's all play this one by the book..." He
pushed the folder across the desk towards Scully. "And I will take you at
your word that you will remove yourself from the case if a conflict of
interest arises..."

"Yes, sir." Avoiding the A.D.'s gaze, Scully got to her feet; leading them
out of the office.

"Mulder..." The stern bark held him back as the two women walked out of
sight. 

Staring after the pair, Skinner looked at Mulder; his hands resting on his
hips.

"I'll go out on a limb here and assume that the display I saw previously
combined with the evidence you brought to the lab is connected." His dark
eyes bored down into the younger man's.

"Remember, assume makes an ass out of you and me..." The weak joke fell
flatter than his last date as Skinner's stare intensified.

"Agent Mulder, I don't need to be a psychic to see what a personal
involvement in a case would do to you - and Agent Scully. I'm holding you
responsible for making sure the two of you cross the line and give anyone
reason to doubt or destroy your investigation. Or your careers." He looked
down at Mulder. "I assume I've made myself clear."

"Crystal, sir." Mulder said. "Although I have to point out that I can't be
held responsible for St. George..."

Skinner's face twisted into almost a smile. "Who can?"

***********

His fingers curled around the scarlet head, rubbing it from side to side
before drawing it slowly along the rough surface. As the match burst into
flame, he twirled the wooden stick until his fingers were well out of
burning range.

Flipping it carefully into the stack of excess wood, he watched with a
grin as the slow fire caught on; the flames growing and devouring the wall
of the shed behind it.

**********

Field Journal of Special Agent Dana Scully:

Over the years it has become possible to draw up a profile of a pedophile,
although subject to variations depending on the individual. Most molesters
are men who have been subjected to early sexual experience or abuse at a
young age.

*An image of Donnie Pfaster flashed into her mind's eye, causing her
fingers to freeze on the keyboard for a minute before continuing.*

Usually the molester does not stop at fondling, becoming more aggressive
and progressing to oral sex and mutual masturbation. 

*Her throat ached, and she realised that she had been holding her breath.*

Examination of the toys reveal that while the first two are similar enough
to have been carved by the same man, the one found by the body in
Pennsylvania is dissimilar enough to not have been carved by Fantana. The
possibility of a copycat is obvious, but according to Canadian sources
Fantana's MO was never made public due to his immediate confession upon
arrest. The chance exists that this perhaps is a former associate of his,
satisifying his own sexual urges in the same manner.

I have applied and received permission to interview Fantana in Toronto.
Hopefully he will be able to shed some light on this other person in order
to clear his conscience, as he claims to be interested in doing.

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

"What part of NO do you have trouble understanding?" St. George's voice
lifted over the usual din of the Pit, drawing attention to the angry
Canadian as she leaned on Mulder's empty desk. 

"Devon gave me permission to go up and interview Fantana." Scully closed
her briefcase, rubbing her eyes. She hadn't slept well last night; the
dark circles betraying her to anyone who looked. "Mulder is going over to
the town where the girl disappeared from to see if he can make any headway
in finding this new man." A shake of her head. "Everything is official and
above board - by the book..."

"Did you tell Dev that you suspect Fantana..." She shook her hands in the
air, unable to say the words. "Did you, Dana?"

The silence spoke clearly enough.

"Right, well..." A weary sigh. "The least I can do is be there to alibi
you if he hits himself in the jaw or lower..." The Canadian grumbled
aloud. "And they think I play fast and loose..." She paused. "Did you at
least clear this with Mulder? I can't see him being too happy with you
going up with me to face this guy."

Another shake of the head. "I don't need both of you worrying about me."
Scully looked up. "Besides, we need to be working on this case from two
different angles. If this new pedophile has any connection to Fantana, we
have to find it quickly and that means splitting up is more efficient."

St. George nodded. "I hate it when you're right. But when did you plan to
tell him?"

"Now..." Scully got up from her desk reluctantly. "He's in the basement
trying to salvage as much as he can on these cases."

"Like, paranormal?" The Canadian couldn't help smiling.

Scully chuckled, smiling for the first time that day. "Not really - but
his personal notes from working with VCU were in one of the cabinets in
the corner and he was hoping some had survived."

"Well, I'll meet you at the airport in an hour. Give me time to get home."
She rapped the cane against the plaster cast. "And to make sure we get
seated at the front, thank you..."

***********

The sharp tang of smoke assaulted her senses as she entered, her inner eye
flashing back to the moment they had walked in not so long ago.

Mulder was kneeling at the base of one of the warped metal cabinets,
carefully brushing away ash from a stack of books. Even from a distance
she could see the water and smoke damage dying the paper a dark brown or
black; the pages curling up as they either burned or from the soaked pages
drying.

"Managed to find my old notes on Pfaster. And a few on similar cases that
were tucked inside enough to avoid the worst of it." Standing up, he
looked at her with a smile. "It's a start, anyway. I can recreate most of
it, but if I can use what I've got here, it'll save some time."

"I'm leaving on a flight in two hours to go talk to Fantana." The words
came out in a rush, like a confession to a priest.

He looked at her; dropped the files back into the blacked mass on the
floor.

"I thought you were coming with me to Michigan."

"I know..." One hand twitched at her side from left to right, betraying
her. "But I thought it might be better for us to split up, pursue this
from a variety of angles..." The reasoning sounded weaker every time she
said it.

"Do you want to do this?" The question was just that, a question. Not a
judgment, not a chastisement for following her heart over logic; just what
it sounded like.

Her chest ached.

She nodded. "Yes, I do." A sigh; a brief locking of the eyes before
dropping her gaze to the floor. "I have to, Mulder."

He let out something between a sigh and a cough, tugging at her heart with
each breath. "Just be careful."

The warning hung in the air, Skinner's words around them like neon arrows
pointing at each of them.

Forcing a smile onto her tense lips, she spoke softly. "I'm taking Jackie
along. Figure I can't leave her here with you."

Mulder's eyebrows rose, a smirk tugging at his face. "Oh - jealous?" He
moved closer, circling her with a mischievous grin now.

"Hardly." Now her smile was genuine as she turned as well, facing him with
every step. "She's announced she's coming along for protection."

"For you or Fantana?"

"Protection from you when I get back." She shot back, comfortable in their
bickering. "You know we just got that new set of sexual harassment
guidelines this week..."

Mulder moved in closer to her, enough to whisper. "Why, Agent Scully - do
you suspect me of sexually harassing you?"

With a nervous laugh she took a step back, shaking her head. "Not nearly
enough, Mulder... not nearly enough..."

As she walked from the smoky room she could hear him smile behind her.

**********

"Did Mulder say that the kid died from snakebite?" St. George turned from
staring out the plane window to Scully.

She nodded, looking over the papers spread across the small plastic tray
in front of her. "Seems so. I asked for a more thorough autopsy, to make
sure that exposure didn't have something to do with it." Sighing, she
scratched a pencil across the blank paper. "Usually snakebite isn't fatal;
not for the average healthy adult. But for the young and for the elderly,
or if you're not in good shape, it's a very bad situation."

"I hate snakes..." The Canadian whispered, almost fearfully. "Along with
deep water and heights..."

The redhead almost smiled. "And you LIKE to fly?"

She shrugged. "When I'm in control, sure..." A sly wink. "Like you like to
be in control, Dana..."

A warning wave of the pencil. "Don't you start in on me and Mulder
again..."

"What? What did I say?" A mock look of surprise. "And who mentioned
Mulder?"

**********

Flerie, Michigan was a small town; Mulder's rental car drawing worried
stares as he drove into the parking lot at the police station. From the
reports he had read on the plane, the murder rate had been non-existent
until Jennifer Decarts's death. Flerie was a family town, filled with
retired people and new families looking for a safe environment to live in. 

And it had worked.

Until a month ago.

The local paper had mourned the town's loss of innocence, taking the
opportunity to remind the readers about the upcoming elections and the
legal issues being used by each candidate.

"Sheriff..." Mulder took the offered hand, noting the worry in the older
man's face.

Sheriff Trumble nodded. "Glad that you're here, though you'll forgive my
lack of cheerfulness, given the situation." He led Mulder into his office,
pouring the FBI agent a cup of coffee without asking. 

Handing the black drink to the seated agent, he took his own seat behind
the large wooden desk.

"You've got no idea how crazy this town's been the past little while." The
man sighed. "When it was a kidnapping, they went ballistic. When it turned
out to be... well, THAT sort of crime..." He let Mulder fill in the rest
of the sentence. "Needless to say, we want that bastard caught and strung
up by his balls..."

Mulder nodded. "Understandable." He looked down at the thick liquid in the
mug, forcing himself to take a mouthful and remembering that he had a pack
of Tums in his suitcase.

Suppressing a grimace, he continued. "Were there a lot of suspects when
you first began the investigation; visitors who were suspicious, out of
place?"

Trumble shook his head. "Unfortunately we had a summer fair the week
before Jenny disappeared. Plenty of travellers in from out of town, plenty
of suspects. But no one remembers anyone specifically acting odd towards
her or any of the other girls."

Mulder put the mug down on the desk. "Did you have a carnival or circus
here; for the fair?"

Trumble nodded, digging in the folder on his desk. "Sure - the same outfit
that's been coming here for the past ten years." Producing a leaflet, he
handed it to the agent. "We thought of that first thing, stopped them and
searched their entire convoy from top to bottom. Found nothing."

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

The interview room was chilly, the air conditioner running full blast as
Scully entered; walking briskly to the metal table and the two chairs
facing each other. Pulling out a new yellow legal pad of paper and a sharp
pencil, she sat down; crossed her hands in front of her and waited.

Behind the two-way glass, Jackie stared studiously at the rubber stopper
at the bottom of her cane, avoiding Devon's gaze. The older man rubbed his
chin.

"You okay with this?"

The question was directed at St. George, not at the agent in the room.

"Hey, you gave her the permission."

"Yah, but you look upset - you wouldn't be holding out on your ex-lover
here, now?"

Jackie chuckled. "The best one you ever had, Dev..."

He smiled. "Well, there was that Mountie in Chicago..." His attention
snapped back to the inside room as the far door opened to admit Fantana.

Joseph David Fantana was an average looking man by any measure, owning a
peaceful and generic face that reminder the watcher of half a dozen people
in his or her life. Dressed in a yellow jumpsuit, he ran a hand through
his thinning grey hair before sitting down opposite Scully.

"Mr. Fantana, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI." Clipped,
professional tone. "I want to make sure that you understand that you are
under no obligation to continue this interview without legal
representation present, and we may stop at any time if you wish."

He smiled at her, making her stomach spasm. "I'm fine, Agent Scully. All I
want to do is serve the proper time on this earth for my sins against
humanity and spend the remaining time I have here trying to make amends
for those I have harmed."

Pulling a page out from under the legal pad, she nodded. "So you've said.
Your work history says that you crossed the U.S.-Canada border many times
while with the carnival. Is it safe to assume that you molested children
in the U.S. before you cane up here to Canada permanently?"

No change in his expression, just a thin-lipped smile.

"Mr. Fantana, I don't believe you just started up here. And if we move to
extradite you back to the States, you can bet your participation will help
more than your silence."

Nothing.

"For a religious man, you seem to have a very short memory in the way of
confessions." A bead of sweat appeared on her forehead, trickling down the
side of her face despite the cool temperature. "You can't only confess to
those sins you want to - it's an all-or-nothing deal, no matter which
faith you profess to belong to."

He blinked.

"And believe me, we'll find them. If you touched one child, we'll find
them and pull you across the border so fast that you won't see the
sunlight or a patch of earth for the rest of your life."

She looked down at his hands; at the way the fingers curled and uncurled
on the metal desktop. The calloused skin, the rough sandpaper palms from a
lifetime of hard work.

Those hands held no love, no tenderness or kindness.

Just pain and lust and the animal hunting for a victim.

"She's not doing this right..." Devon's worried voice shattered the
silence in the other room. "What's wrong with her?"

Jackie bit down hard on her bottom lip, careful to not draw blood.

Scully withdrew a black and white picture from under the legal pad,
looking only at the dead girl's body long enough to make sure it was right
side up; then slid it across the table.

"Seems that you have an admirer."

Fantana's face contorted, twisting between disgust and a sneer as his lips
warped into a thick kiss.

Her throat burned as she swallowed back the bile racing up from her
stomach.

"Who is she?" The question was asked nonchalantly, in the same tone as if
he were asking for a cigarette.

"That isn't important at this moment. What is is that they found this by
her body." Another picture, this one of the wooden rabbit taken in the
woods; the outstretched arm of the dead girl visible in the upper left of
the photograph.

Fantana sat back in his chair. "My God..." His eyes were no longer focused
on the girl, but the carving. "She's dead..."

Scully nodded.

"And they found this with her."

Another nod.

"My God..." He whispered, his fingers curling around the fragile photo.
Looking up at Scully, he shook his head. "I never hurt them. I loved all
of them, especially the girls... especially the girls.." He stared down at
the picture again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for
water.

She stared at him intently, not flinching from his gaze.

"I never hurt them. I told them that I loved them..." His voice trailed
off as his eyes went distant; tracking back over the years.

"Did you know about this?" The question was blunt and forceful, her hands
tightening around the pencil. "Did you have a partner, a pupil?"

Fantana shook his head vigorously, emphatically jabbing a finger into the
photo. "Never. I never showed anyone." His eyes searched out hers, the
pupils thick and deep in their darkness. "You have to believe me - I would
never hurt them."

Suddenly another picture was on the table; a wallet-sized colour
photograph of a young girl, long reddish hair over one shoulder as she
smiled at the camera.

"Do you know her?" Scully rasped, her voice so soft as to be almost lost
by the tape recorders. "Did you touch her?"

Fantana frowned, taking the photo in one hand and bringing it close to his
face.

"Pretty girl..." He studied the image for a long minute, almost inhaling
the colours.

Flipping it over, he smiled. "Melissa, 1972." He looked at Scully. "A
looker, I'd say."

She could hear talking behind the glass, yelling now.

"San Diego. You were there, weren't you?" The accusation hung in the air
between them.

"Is she a friend of yours?" Fantana's tone was friendly, almost jovial. "A
co-worker? A lover, perhaps..." His eyes narrowed. "A sister?".

The door burst open at that second, admitting a red-faced and angry
Williams; St. George visible in the corridor behind him, leaning wearily
on the cane.

Walking up to the pair, he snatched the small photo out of Fantana's
hands, sweeping the other pictures into Scully's lap as he motioned at the
guard now standing at the other door leading back into the prison.

"Get him the fuck out of here..." The older man snarled, pushing Fantana
backwards in the chair as he hurriedly tried to get to his feet and away
from the enraged agent.

"What was that?" Williams roared the second the steel door closed, taking
Fantana out of sight. "I've seen better interrogations from rookies
checking out crackheads..." Directed at the still-seated redhead, his
focus went to the woman standing at the doorway. "And don't tell me you
didn't know what she was working up to..."

"Dev..."

"Don't 'Dev' me, Jackie. You know that any good lawyer could now take this
tape and make a good case for never sending him to the States for any
crimes he committed there, with the bias right in front of him." 

"Dev, it's not that bad..." Advancing gingerly into the room, St. George
moved to stand beside Scully. "Besides, we need just one victim to file
for the extradition. And if we can prove he's been doing this for decades,
not just the few years he's telling us, we can get the DO tag here and
he'll never get out in either country."

"But with her sister..." Taking the seat recently vacated by Fantana,
Williams held his head in his hands. "God, Dana..." The anger was gone,
replaced by sadness. "You should have let us handle it. You shouldn't have
been handing him that picture. You shouldn't have been asking him if he
touched Missy..."

Scully blinked suddenly, as if awakening from a dream. Getting to her
feet, she brushed by St. George and out the door.

"Where's she going?" Devon looked at Jackie, who glanced behind her down
the corridor.

"Probably to throw up. I'd be running."

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

Mulder crossed the short lawn towards his car, ignoring the stares
directed at him by the locals. Clutching the fax papers in his hand, he
waited until he had gotten into his car and closed the door before pulling
his cell phone out of his pocket; hitting a well-worn speed dial number.

"Scully..." The voice was faint, tugging at his gut.

"Scully, it's me... are you okay?"

"Yes..." A weary sigh. "Just got through a first meeting with Fantana."

He shifted in his seat. "Oh. Was he... helpful?"

"As much as could have been expected under the circumstances. He doesn't
want to be sent back to the States, so he's not going to volunteer
anything. Jackie's right; he's smart - he knows that if he only takes the
time on the girls up here in Canada, he'll be out in a few years. If we
can bring him back with testimony that he's been abusing children down
here, we can put him away for life."

"And Decarts?"

"He seemed rather upset at her death." 

Mulder nodded, forgetting again that she couldn't see him.
"Understandable. Most pedophiles don't set out to kill their victims,
treating them like prizes; pets..." He broke off, remembering the context
of the discussion. "Did he offer any insight into the killer?"

"Killer?" Now her voice was sharp, curious. The old Scully.

He hurriedly flipped through the pages in his lap. "Killer, Scully.
Jennifer Decarts died from snakebite, but from the bite of a Western
Rattler. When Toxicology did an analysis of the venom, it showed that she
died from a snakebite from a snake that is most definitely not anywhere
between Michigan and Pennsylvania."

A pause, a confused thought. "So she was set up to be bitten? Mulder,
that's a long way to go to disguise your murder. And he must have known
that analysis would show this..."

"If it was murder and not an accident." Mulder continued. "Remember what I
said about how they don't usually kill? Maybe he had a pet snake,
something like that, and she was bitten accidentally - he dumps the body
in a panic and then drives off. As you said, it's a long way to go to hide
a murder when he didn't have to."

"Okay... it's a theory, Mulder..." He could imagine the eyebrow arching
towards heaven. "But there are cases of pedophiles killing their victims."

"Probably, but since we don't have any other victims we can't draw the
assumption that it was done by a serial killer." Drawing a breath, he
looked out the window. "We're running down any snake handlers who might
have been by in the past month or so - dealing with the carnival or just a
sideshow on his own. It's something, at least. I'm having the identities
of the carnival workers who were here run through the FBI database as
well. But since we don't have any other incidents like this one yet, we
have to assume that it's a first time."

"You think it was triggered?"

"Possibly." He said. "But I don't know by what. But I do know that Fantana
holds the key here."

Another flip of the page. "The name of the victim, Jennifer Decarts -
Joseph David Fantana. J.D. Now other than professing a liking for Jack
Daniels, I think the man is sending a clear message."

"He wants Fantana?"

"He most probably was a victim of Fantana. I'd have to work on a new
profile, but my best guess is that he's taking his revenge on Fantana out
on the girls." He paused. "You have to get Fantana to tell you who he
thinks it is. We need a name."

He could imagine her tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear; her
intense stare as she assimilated the information.

Closing his eyes, he spoke. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mulder..." She let out her breath slowly, filling the airwaves
with a painful sigh. "We've got a second interview scheduled for tomorrow
- then we'll fly down to help."

"How was Devon?"

Scully looked up as St. George entered the washroom, her face pale and
drawn. "He was a bit... reluctant at times. But he's fine."

"Right - I have to go, Scully. Call me tomorrow." Pause. "Call me if you
need to, you know. To talk. Or I can listen. You know that, right?"

A muted chuckle. "Yes, Mulder. If I want to listen to your heavy breathing
at two am, I'll call."

"Ooohh, Scully... You know the Bureau's policy on holding down two
jobs..." The joking tone disappeared. "Promise."

"I promise I'll call if I need to."

"Okay."

Silence.

"I'll talk to you later, Mulder."

"Okay. 'Bye, Scully."

Putting the phone back in her pocket, Scully looked at St. George;
reflected in the mirror in front of her. Reaching down, she cupped the
running water in one hand; rinsing her mouth out and spitting the water
back into the sink.

"I'm ready..."

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

end of part 2...

Dragons in The Playground (3/5)
by Sheryl Martin

He looked out across the small playground, locking in on the small group
of girls seated at a picnic table. Wandering closer, he stuck his hands in
his pockets and began to whistle a jaunty tune; seemingly ignoring them.
Nearby a baseball game had started; the cheerful yells and screams
carrying over the grass.

"Oh, yah - we're going to buy a copy of the movie the day it comes out..."
The tallest was saying, spreading her khaki-covered legs across the bench.
"I mean, Leo is just too cool to not have a copy, yah know? I've only seen
it 12 times, and I told my mother..." The rest of them nodded in
agreement; breaking in with comments on how cute their teenage idol was
and how they had seen this magazine and that magazine and wasn't it a
horrible thing that he didn't win an Oscar for the role.

Another girl spoke loudly enough for him to hear. "I'm having a Labour Day
party - maybe I can get my mom to let me run the tape on the two
television sets upstairs and downstairs at the same time..." The murmur
that met this suggestion was loud and encouraging as the blond 13 year old
revelled in her new-found popularity. 

"Cool..." The original speaker said, swinging her legs down off the bench.
"Let me know what time and I'll bring the magazines I've collected.
There's this totally fab pic..."

Suddenly the small group was twittering with the party details, still
oblivious to the man hovering on the edges of their conversation.

Finally they broke up, the three girls waving to the fourth who had
suggested the party as they headed down the stone path out of the park.
The baseball game was still going on, the youthful cheering louder as the
home team cemented a good lead.

The young girl sighed, picked up her knapsack and turned in the opposite
direction...

...to see a man on all fours, his head tucked under one of the shrubs on
the path; presenting a somewhat humorous picture.

Putting one hand up to her mouth, she tried not to laugh. But the jeans
and running shoes sticking out from the bushes were just too funny; and a
giggle broke loose as she stared at him.

Turning his head suddenly, the man squirmed back a few inches to clear a
low-hanging branch. "Oh... hi..."

She paused before answering. "Hi..."

"I... ah... I lost my pet and was just looking for him. He likes dark
places, and well, this seems like a good place for him..." Sitting up, the
dark haired man brushed dirt from his hands. "You haven't seen a snake
around here..."

Her lips curled up in disgust. "A snake?"

He nodded. "I call him Leo. You know, after that Titanic guy..." Seeing
the automatic smile rush across her face, he continued. "He's pretty cool,
for a snake."

Suddenly he reached down into the brush. "There... got you..."

"You have a snake called Leo?" Curious, she moved in to see the writhing
creature now wrapped securely around the man's arm; the reptile's tongue
flicking in and out...

********

The hotel room was like a hundred others he had stayed in; the same
nondescript bedding, the room service menu with a version of the club
house sandwich available all night, the cardboard display atop the
television set advertising the sex channels. But Mulder found himself
frowning as he unpacked, tossing his shaving kit onto the bed.

Something was wrong.

Something was missing.

His eyes darted to the small table in the corner, half-expecting to see a
familiar figure there; crossing her legs and giving him one of her looks
if he dared to pick up the cardboard ad from the top of the set.

There was no Scully.

No flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye as he headed for the
snack machine at two in the morning during a brainstorming session; no
annoying counterpoints to the paranormal shows he inevitably left running
on the television set during said sessions, more to annoy her than inform
him. Not even a short discussion on who would be driving tomorrow. 

Nothing but an empty room.

Mulder sighed as he lay back on the bed, loosening his tie as he pondered
the cable choices for that evening.

The phone rang, interrupting his intense study of the listings and
wondering if there were any redheads among the actresses.

"Mulder..." He exhaled his name; waiting for a familiar voice.

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

The office was lavishly furnished, the two cushy chairs and large wooden
desk set directly in the centre of what Dana Scully could only refer to as
a Grand Hall.

Picking up one of the pictures from the bookshelves that lined the room,
she chuckled loudly; attracting Devon and Jackie's attention as they
spread the containers of Chinese food across the desktop.

Swinging the frame around to show them, she smiled. "You had your hair
THAT short?"

St. George shrugged, reaching for a plastic fork. "I was in a mood..."

Williams snorted. "You were in a fit, as I recall - she came into class
one morning annoyed that one of the fellows had made some crack about her
not being as 'good' at the job because she was a woman. So she cuts all of
her hair off..."

"Not all..."

"Okay, you left an inch. And then you had to put up with being mistaken
for 'Jack' for a few months until the rest of the Service realised that
you were female."

"Hey, they were all blind..." She slumped into one of the chairs, still
clutching the fork. "Besides, I showed McDonald. Kicked his butt at the
pistol range."

"Once we let you use that old .38."

"Shut up and pass the rice." As St. George reached for the container, she
received a resounding rap on the knuckles by a pair of chopsticks.

"What?" She groused, pulling back out of attack range.

"My office, I get to make the rules." The older man grinned. "Dana, grab a
plate and help yourself. I don't want Mulder accusing me of starving you
in Canada."

With a wan smile, the petite redhead reached over and plucked the rice
container off the desk, loading up her plate. "Enough?"

"You missed a spot." Devon dead panned. "And remember, the shrimp has been
officially counted and divvied up."

Keeping as stoic a face as possible, she reached for the other small
cardboard boxes; heaping more food than was possible for her and Mulder
and the rest of the Pit to eat atop the vulnerable paper plate.

"Right..." Devon grinned wider, if that were possible. "Now, tell me about
how this leg got broken again..." He raised a warning finger, wagging it
at the two women. "And the real story, not this street brawl that you sent
up in the report. I know you both well enough not to believe that crap."

"Why, Dev..." Jackie smiled innocently, making his eyes roll upwards. "Are
you insinuating that I don't put down the truth, the whole truth and
nothing but the truth in my dispatches?"

He shook his head as he reached over and retrieved a wayward shrimp from
the lacquered desktop, directing his comments to the lone American in the
room. "If Skinner gets double this from you and Mulder, I don't wonder why
he's lost most of his hair..."

Dana looked out from behind her stack of food. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear
what you said - I was busy digging an escape tunnel through this chow
mein..."

The phone rang, interrupting Devon's rebuttal. Putting the phone to his
hear, he immediately dropped it back into the cradle; punching the
speakerphone button.

Mulder's voice drifted through the room like a disembodied spirit.

"Scully..." He paused. "And the rest of you, I hear..."

"Just me and Jackie." Williams reassured him. "And a bit of fried rice, I
should point out..."

"Either way, it doesn't matter. A young girl was kidnapped a few hours
ago, possibly by our man." The rumbling of footsteps. "I'm here with the
State Troopers in Pennsylvania - we're sending you the drawing we got from
the eyewitnesses." A loud whining sound. "It's on the way to your machine
now..."

"Eyewitnesses?" Scully repeated. "Someone saw our suspect?"

"Yah, there was a group of kids who were in the area with the victim." The
sound of paper flipping and twisting. "Amanda Derkins, age thirteen...
I'll send along the picture right now."

"Situation?" Devon asked, sweeping his plate of food out of the way as he
grabbed a pencil and paper.

"Pretty well the usual scenario, sorry to say. Amanda standing with a few
friends discussing this and that; they leave and she takes a walk down the
path alone to go home. Only she doesn't arrive and the parents send up the
alarm immediately upon checking out the friends."

"But what makes it our man?" St. George reached over. expertly spearing a
piece of chicken off of Scully's plate and tossing it into her mouth.

"The girls don't remember seeing a man around - they're not the
eyewitnesses. A baseball game was going on nearby and some of the players
and their parents remember seeing a strange man loitering around, not
really paying attention to the game but more to the children and acting in
an odd manner. But the left fielder got a good look at him while he was on
the outskirts of the field, and clearly remembers seeing a live snake
wrapped around one arm." The pause was static-filled and long. "I'm
willing to bet it's the same guy."

Devon nodded. "Unless there's a sudden rash of snake owners out there who
all end up in the same area as missing children, I'd agree."

Scully drew in her breath, almost painfully. "We've got to talk to Fantana
again. Tonight."

Mulder's voice crackled. "Scully..."

An angry shake of her head. "We're on a collision course here, and if we
can't get Fantana to tell us who he thinks the killer is then there's
probably going to be another death." She looked at Williams. "I want it
tonight. ASAP."

The grey haired man looked from one woman to the other to the phone on the
desk. "Let me get out to the other phone and I'll get the wheels turning."

Mulder's voice roared out of the speaker. "Scully, you don't have to do
this - let Devon work Fantana over for the information."

"Oooohhh... he said 'work'..." St. George deadpanned. "I never get to have
any of the fun around here anymore..."

Scully shook her head again. "I've got to be there. I started the contact
with him, and we have to have someone present if he gives us anything that
we can use to extradite him." She looked directly at Williams. "You know
I'm right."

He nodded. "If he tells you who he suspects the killer is, it'll probably
be enough for us to at least file the papers. If it turns out to be the
same person, we won't need any other victims to send him south." The
unspoken name hung in the air between them.

"Gotta get going on this..." He got up from behind the desk. "Thanks for
the fax, Mulder - we'll take them down with us and let Fantana think over
his options."

"Right..." The disembodied voice replied.

Tugging at St. George's sleeve, Williams pointed at the door; exiting
quietly with her as Scully got up from the chair and began to walk around
the office.

"Scully?"

"I'm still here, Mulder..."

"I'm going to distribute the description among the other law enforcement
agencies. Maybe this guy's got some previous history in another state.
Can't be that many molesters using pet snakes to get close to their
targets."

Picking up the picture of Williams and St. George again, Scully adjusted
it carefully on the bookshelf before continuing her pacing. "Maybe he's
using the snake as some sort of phallic symbol..."

A chuckle. "I'm the one with the psych degree, remember? But you're
probably close on that one. I suspect that the killing of the first child
was an accident as well; if he's holding close to the usual profile."

"Which might be repeated if we don't get him soon."

"Which most probably will be repeated, I'm afraid. Wild animals aren't
usually very understanding of intruders into their territory, and it's
obvious that he's not in control of the snake." A long empty space. "How
long before you can get down here?"

She looked at her watch. "Depends how long it takes with Fantana. The
flight into Pittsburgh or Cleveland should be about an hour, and then we
can drive down to you..." A low grumble. "If you don't find her first,
that is..."

"We're working on it, Scully - the Bureau's already got VCU working on a
profile alongside the one I'm compiling." A soft chuckle. "In case I'm
biased, I guess."

She nodded, crossing her arms in front of her. "Yes, well... forgive me
for not hoping that you don't have to wait for me to arrive before you
close this one."

If she closed her eyes she could see him there in the office; his hands
tucked into his pockets as he studied the walls before reaching over to
pick the largest pieces of chicken off her plate, his eyes daring her to
make a comment.

She heard the unspoken conversation in her mind as the line remained open;
the static rising and falling with the connection.

*Do you want me to come up there, Scully?*

<No, Mulder. I'm fine.>

*No, you're not. You have to go ask this monster again to tell you if he
made this man; made this creature that we have to hunt like a rabid
animal. You have to ask him about Melissa again.*

<I can handle it, Mulder.>

*No, you can't. No one could. Why do you have to be so strong? Why can't
you be like the rest of them?*

<Because then I wouldn't be Dana Scully.>

*Yes, I know. Which is why I l...*

"Scully?"

She jerked suddenly, her eyes flashing open. "Mulder?"

"I wasn't sure if you were still there..."

"Just thinking."

"Yah. Me too."

Williams rapped on the slightly open door, pushing it further open. "One
hour."

Scully blinked in surprise. "What did you have to promise to whom to get
an appointment so fast?"

He smiled. "Oh, you'd be shocked." Pause. "Though I don't think that
Mulder would be..."

"I heard that." The ghostly voice spoke. 

"I hope so." Devon chuckled. "We've got to get going. I've already got
Jackie sending the faxes across CPIC and to all our branches just in case
there's any other connections."

"Right... I have to get going as well..." A sigh. "Be careful, Scully."

She nodded. "You too, Mulder..." 

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

He hadn't touched her yet, not yet. She hadn't passed the test yet, and
she had to before he could touch her. It was the rules, after all. The
same rules had to apply to everyone because if you didn't play it that
way, the Devil would win.

Stepping down out of the driver's seat, he put up a hand to shield his
eyes from the brilliant sunlight. A really nice day.

The small mobile home sat at the side of the road; engine idling as he
walked around to the side where the door was.

Unlocking it carefully, he entered the narrow cabin.

"Don't you touch me..." The harsh words came out of the darkness, low and
trembling. "I'll yell so loud..."

"Sure you will.." Ignoring her, he went to the small kitchenette; opening
the bar fridge. "I'm hungry. You must be hungry." Pulling out a
transparent plastic bag of dinner rolls, he reached in and plucked two
out. "Want one?"

Without waiting for an answer he moved towards her, putting the bread
within easy reach of where she sat on the single bed at the back of the
trailer. "Just remember not to scare them, okay?"

Amanda Derkins nodded silently, watching as the smaller of the three
snakes slithered over the counter and around the roll before continuing on
to fall onto the mattress beside her; joining his companions as they moved
around and over the bedspread and in the process, her.

Biting into the roll, he gestured at the glass cases lining each side of
the counter; taking up every inch of free space in the trailer.

"They're quite pretty, aren't they?" Looking down at her, he grinned. "The
faithful have nothing to fear. Only the evil."

Turning his back on her, he walked back to the door. "We've got a long way
to drive today, so you hold on tight. And don't upset them..."

***********

The small office had turned into a computer junkie's dream; every
available power outlet being taking up by the teams of agents who rotated
in and out of the room, laptops and cell phone and pagers going off and
fax machines humming in the background and printers drilling alongside
copiers pouring out the latest batch of information.

Mulder sat in front of one monitor, watching the display scroll by as it
was updated and revised almost immediately online. Reaching for a
Styrofoam cup sitting by the keyboard, he took a brief mouthful of the
dark brown liquid.

And found the vilest thing in his mouth since being initiated into Oxford.

Looking around frantically, he put the cup back to his lips and backwashed
it into the cup; dropping it discreetly into the wastepaper basket at his
side.

Digging in his pockets for something to wash away the taste of the cold
coffee, he could only come up with a few sunflower seeds; probably staler
than the coffee was.

It would have to do.

Cracking the first seed between his teeth, he tapped the keyboard;
stopping the display. Putting both palms up to his eyes he rubbed them
with a fury, wishing for the Visine Scully kept on hand for cases like
this.

"Agent Mulder..." One bright-faced youngster appeared at his side, his
face flushed red with excitement. "We have a hit..."

Getting to his feet and ignoring the tingling sensation in one foot,
Mulder made his way across the room to where another agent was staring
intently at a screen. He looked at Mulder, dismissing the courier with a
nod.

"We've got three possible hits on a man who matches our description. All
three times children were the target, attempted abductions." His hand ran
across the screen. "California, Nevada and Texas. A close match for our
suspect based solely on the sketch, but we can't be certain until we catch
him and send a proper photograph around to the authorities there."

Mulder stared at the flicking colours. "He does get around, if he's our
man."

The agent nodded, pulling at his tie. "It's possible. They all happened
within a few weeks of each other, so he could have been in each area
within the time constraints of the assaults."

"He can't be working the carny circuit..." Mulder mused aloud, leaning on
the desk and ignoring the agent. "He must be travelling on his own..."
Standing up, he nodded. "Thanks. Transmit the information to all our other
stations and see if it makes anyone's job easier..." 

He paused suddenly, catching a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of
his eyes.

Turning quickly with a quip on his lips and a grin spreading across his
face, he looked for his partner.

But the young woman walked by him briskly, carrying a cardboard box filled
with Styrofoam cups of coffee. Stopping suddenly under his glare, she
turned and looked at him; offering up the box.

"Want some coffee, Agent Mulder?"

"No... I just thought you were..." A weary wave. "Thanks, but I'm full of
coffee already."

Sitting back down at his desk, he wondered how Scully was doing for the
ten thousandth time that day.

On a purely professional level, of course.

Not.

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

I was awake when they came for me; muttering under their breath about how
I should just be released to the general population. I had been awake ever
since they had put me back into my cell, walking me by the yelling and the
screaming prisoners who were describing what they would like to do to me.

But I ignored it all. I have to, or I'd go mad.

So I sat in my small cell, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Thinking
and praying and wondering what to do.

I went through my Bible again, the one book they let me keep in here. They
didn't want me to have it either, but the social workers convinced them
that it was harmless and that they would hurt me by taking it away.

Like they took everything else of mine away.

All the pictures. All the toys I kept. All the memories.

But I still had those.

And as I sat on my bunk; staring at the ceiling and praying, I felt the
questions swirling around me like a dense fog in my mind.

Which was the greater sin.

They walked me down the corridor again, making sure their stride was just
that bit faster than mine; making me limp and gallop along to keep up. I
almost fell once except the guard yanked on my elbow; cursing under her
breath that she even had to touch me.

She was in the room already when I walked in, her arms crossed in front of
her as she stood there and stared at me. Just stared at me, her eyes
filled with the same fire that coloured her hair.

Her face was set in the type of stone mask you read about when they made
up mannequins for the stores; the waxy expression not changing for all
time. But her eyes, her eyes kept changing.

From strength to hatred to fear to disgust to strength again.

The pictures were gone, thankfully. No more dead girls.

Taking my seat, I looked past her to the other woman leaning against the
wall; tap-tapping her cane against the cast on her leg. She looked even
more stern than Agent Scully, if that were possible. And she kept
tap-tapping that dammed cane. I think it was a Barry Manilow song or
something like that; something she whistled through clenched teeth as she
stood there.

Her eyes were just dark. Full of death.

They both looked like what I would expect avenging angels to look like;
filled with righteous anger and rage.

I was scared.

And they knew it.

Agent Scully began to talk again; spreading a new set of pictures across
the metal table top. A young child. A little girl. Brown hair, blue eyes,
cute smile.

I felt the longing stir in me and was ashamed. Especially when I knew that
they knew what I was thinking; saw the way I reached out to touch the
photographs. I touched the cheeks; the nose... the lips of the girl and
could feel the past surging through me like a hot fire in my blood.

The other woman made an ugly noise, something like clearing her throat and
a curse. Scully ignored her and continued to talk at me, telling me that
the girl had been taken by the man who had killed that other one; the one
with the nice legs.

She asked for my help.

She knew that I knew who it was.

She also wanted to know about her sister, if that's who it was in the
small photo. I could see the question in her eyes; hear it on her lips as
she repeated her request for the man's identity. A strong voice, a
demanding voice.

A demand for justice. For what was Right.

But she didn't ask the other one again. Not that question.

Instead she asked me about my God and how I could face him knowing that I
had helped condemn a little girl to death by my inaction.

There were no offers of clemency. I didn't expect any, to be truthful.

But complicity in a murder. That I hadn't thought about.

All I could think about; all I had thought about since they had brought me
here in what they would do to me if I was sent back to the States. 

If they knew how many of them they were.

But this man, he didn't love them. He couldn't love them, not if he would
hurt them like that. Kill them.

Then I saw it; saw the tiny gold cross dangling from around Agent Scully's
neck. Realised that this was nothing more than a test, a test of my
new-found faith and that I would be found wanting if I lacked the strength
of my convictions to not be honest about what I had done.

She was the messenger. She was St. Peter waiting at the Gate and demanding
that I bare my soul and declare the wrongs I had done before God and all
his angels.

So I looked deep down into that abyss that used to be my soul and searched
for the answer. I stripped away the years and the darkness and dug for the
pure heart of it; where it had all started and ended and in the middle had
become a means to the end.

And I said the Words, and the Words were my salvation.

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

end of part 3...

Dragons in The Playground (4/5)
by Sheryl Martin

"Barry Reever..." The words came out like a benediction, gasping out
between his lips.

"I... his father was a preacher with the carnival. I remember his mother,
she died in an accident during one of their meetings before they joined
the carny; he used to talk about her all the time..." His eyes flitted
from one woman to the other. "I... he was a good boy, you know?" His hands
lay on the table; the long slender fingers twisting and tearing at the
corners of the colour photographs. "I... I loved him..."

Scully looked at St. George who glanced over at the glass window and
nodded.

"He was always a good boy. He helped out with setting up the tents and the
displays and taking the tickets and the money..." Fantana mumbled to
himself, ignoring the two women.

The door opened, admitting Williams. He nodded to St. George and Scully.
"We're running the name now." He paused. "I can have you on a flight to
Pitts within the hour..."

"Do it." Getting to her feet, Scully avoided Fantana's eyes as they
drifted towards her; releasing the pictures still lying atop the table.

St. George touched her arm gently as the redhead walked towards the door.
"Dana..." A low whisper. The question passed between them and Williams,
who stood nearby; his hands crossed in front of him as he waited.

Scully shook her head. "No. Not now." Her eyes met Devon's, dark and
passionate. "We have to find this girl now. And I need to get back to
Mulder."

Nodding his acceptance, the older man shrugged off the glance from his
fellow Canadian; waving at the guard to take Fantana back to his cell.

Getting slowly to his feet, the man stared one last time at the pictures
on the table.

"Agent Scully..."

The voice froze them all in place. Scully didn't turn to face him; staring
at the floor.

"I'm... I'm sorry..."

Letting out a sigh, he shuffled out behind the guard and left the
interview room.

Jackie looked at Dana, seeing her lips move in silence for a few seconds
before she regained her composure and strode on by the Canadians and out
of the room.

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

He drew his fingers down the smooth surface, caressing the curves under
his touch. 

Looking over to the small bed where it sat against the wall, Reever smiled
as he reached out towards the frightened girl; handing her the wooden
carving.

"Tonight... tonight..." He crooned, tossing the rabbit onto the bed where
it lay beside the larger of the rattlers; a few inches away from the
girl's cramped leg. "Tonight..."

Lifting the blinds, he looked out the window where the sun was just
beginning to rise; the pastel hues signalling another day. And another
night to follow.

After all, she had proven herself to be pure.

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

"Here..." St. George handed a thin folder to Scully as the plane began to
taxi down the runway. "Dev got this just before we boarded. Skinner must
have kicked some mighty butt to get this at this time of night, even in
Washington..."

Opening the file Scully stared at the driver's license photo; showing a
grim-faced man. Sandy coloured hair falling over one pock-marked cheek;
his steely-grey eyes leaping off the page in a burst of frustration or
rage.

Or he had just had a bad day and barely passed his test.

"He stayed with the carny until his dad died then took his act on the road
for awhile..."

Suddenly Scully realised that St. George was talking to her, reading the
documents aloud. 

"He tried a variation of his father's preaching act, only not as
successful." Pause. "His dad did that snake thing."

"And these signs shall follow them that believe: in my name they shall
cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues: they shall take up
serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them;
they shall lay hands on the sick and they shall recover." Scully recited.
"Mark 16:17-18."

Letting out a low whistle, Jackie shook her head. "Man, it's all I can do
to remember my laundry list."

A thin smile appeared on Scully's lips. "Believe me, if you had Sister
Mary Margaret for your Sunday School teacher; you remembered."

The Canadian chuckled. "Yah, well... seems that the act got a bit thin
when people started getting bitten because he was tossing them around to
prove his mastery. No one died, like you said before - only the very old
and the very young need to worry about that, but after the fifth time of
having to call 911, the audience got a bit wary..." She flipped the page.
"Last time anyone heard of him was when he got a speeding ticket in
Arizona."

Scully spoke softly, her forehead furrowed in thought. "He drives a mobile
home."

"Yah..." St. George nodded. "Most probably what he's got Amanda in right
now. And those babies eat up the gas like crazy." She took a deep breath,
closing the folder. "You know, we should have Fantana back in the States
within the month; non withstanding any legal beagles disputing the
extradition process..."

The redhead put a hand up, silencing her. "I don't want to talk about that
right now. I have to focus on this..." She tapped the picture of Reever.
"If nothing else, we have to find this girl first."

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

Pacing back and forth between the rows of seats, Mulder watched the plane
land; his phone at his ear as he alternatively spoke and listened.

"I don't care what the manpower situation is - we want every trailer and
mobile home between here and New York City stopped and searched. He might
have changed the plates from the last time he registered them..." Mumbling
a quick goodbye, he disconnected the line as the door opened; admitting
the passengers to the terminal.

Scully was the second one off, after a large family of five and way too
many carry on bags. He could just see a flash of red in the midst of the
entourage, then she stepped free of the crowd.

His breath caught in his throat as he approached her, seeing the way she
tried to hold herself up straight and at the ready; the weariness and the
pressure invisible to anyone else.

Except him, of course.

Never invisible to him. As he was in turn to her.

"What's happening?" Striding past him at a quick pace, he turned and
caught up to her in a few strides of his long legs, almost out of breath
with the quickness she had charged down the aisle towards the luggage
claim area and in turn the parking lot.

"We have an APB out for the trailer. It used to belong to his father, but
when he left the carnival he took it along..." Grabbing her arm he paused,
a confused look on his face. "Uh... where's Jackie?"

With an apology already forming on her lips Scully spun around, expecting
to see the Canadian limping far behind the pair. 

Instead she was nearly run over by the small golf cart being driven by an
airport employee; the smiling woman balancing her cast on the bumper and
twirling her cane.

"If the two of you are finished doing Donovan Bailey impressions, I've
asked this kind gentleman to clear us out pronto of the luggage area and
then to the parking lot..." She made a grand gesture towards the two seats
at the back of the cart. "Hop on and let's get going..."

Taking the seat beside Scully, Mulder gestured for the driver to go on;
bracing himself as the cart lurched forward.

"Scully..." He leaned in close to her, not sure how to start.

A toss of the auburn hair. "Before you ask, no - I didn't ask him."
Looking away from him, she let out her breath in a weary sigh. "I wanted
to. I really wanted to. But I knew that I had to prioritise our time with
him and we needed Reever's name first. We have to find this little girl
first..." Angrily rubbing at her right eye with one hand, she took another
shaky breath. "I'll deal with the rest of this later."

He nodded, putting his hand atop hers. "We both will."

The cart stopped, the attendant jumping out to retrieve the luggage as the
trio remained seated. St. George looked back, suppressing a yawn.

"Any idea as to where this little mobile home is?"

Mulder shook his head sharply. "We've got people up and down most of the
roads in this State and on each side - but there's a lot of smaller roads
that just aren't on the maps. We're going  to have to be luckier than
usual this time."

St. George nodded. "So where are we going now?"

"The temporary HQ that ASAC Hunter set up - it's about an hour's drive
from here." He hopped off the cart as it came to a stop at the corner of
the parking lot, retrieving the two overnight bags. He grinned, seeing
Scully's expression. "Seems they wanted someone with more experience in
charge..."

Following him to the rental car, Scully leaned on the passenger door as
Mulder loaded the bags into the trunk. "I'm sorry, Mulder..."

He shrugged, slamming the trunk door. "I understand why. But I also think
Skinner wanted to keep me available..." He left the sentence hanging as he
unlocked the doors and slid in behind the wheel.

Stifling a deep yawn Scully fastened her seat belt; squinting as the
morning sun shone into the car.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep? I wouldn't think you got much on the
plane ride over..." Mulder offered in a soft voice. "I'll wake you when we
get there, and there's not much to see on the road."

Putting her hand up to hide another long yawn, she nodded. "Just let me
know if I drool on you again..."

A weary voice cut in from the back seat. "'Again'?"

Chuckling at the expression on St. George's face, Mulder put the car in
gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Any word on if he's in this State at all?" St. George asked in a low
voice from behind him.

"We're not sure. It's been almost twenty-four hours, which means that
technically he could be anywhere by now. But we've asked the television
and radio stations to broadcast his description; and if he stops for gas
or for information anywhere in five states, he'll be seen." He glanced
over to where, true to form, his partner was fitfully dozing; her head
precariously balanced on the shoulder strap of her seat belt. Her lips
slightly apart, she mumbled softly before running her tongue over them;
letting out a muted grumble.

"Fantana should be back here within a month..." Jackie said quietly. "Then
you can question him to your heart's content on everything and throw away
the key."

"Do you think he did it?" Mulder's whispered question came back to her,
needing no further explanation.

"I can't tell you that. Someone like Fantana, you don't know if he's
telling the truth or lying 'cause he gets off on seeing other people's
pain." She paused. "And there was a helluva lot of pain in that room
yesterday, I'll tell you that." A shrug. "Either way, you'll have him down
here and that'll feel better to me than having him play games in my legal
system for months and months, like that Ng case out West."

The driver nodded. "A description of Fantana and his M.O. was distributed
to all the military bases and towns his carnival visited while you were up
there. I'm hoping that someone remembers something they saw, or maybe the
victims are still living in the same area." Pursing his lips, he looked
over once again at the sleeping woman. "I just don't know how to keep her
out of this..."

"Don't even try, Mulder..." The quiet warning came. "If you thought the
bond between mother and daughter was strong, you haven't seen anything
like sister to sister..."

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

Amanda Derkins was tired. Tired and fed up and angry and scared and
thirsty and hungry. Well past the point of being any more terrified than
she already was, she drifted in and out of consciousness as she tried to
not fall asleep and not scream as the snakes slithered across her lap;
relishing the body heat.

Deep in her mind a thought struggled to break free of the paralysing fear,
finally succeeding. Twisting around in her mind, it analysed the situation
and her knowledge and came up with a plan.

Taking hold of the small wooden carving she turned it over and over,
finally settling on the flat underside of the rabbit. Experimentally she
dug her index fingernail into the wood, seeing how deep she could imprint
on the surface. 

Content with the results, she began to slowly scratch across the white
wood; choosing her words carefully in such a small writing space.

Her fingernail suddenly broke; the jagged tear turning crimson as the
blood began to pool up under the nail and flow over onto her finger.
Sticking it in her mouth with a few explicit curses, she switched the
carving to her other hand and began again, this time with her left hand.

Digging her nail in again and again, she wrote the same words over and
over; making the engraving as deep as she could and still legible. Finally
she was satisfied, popping her injured finger back into her mouth as she
surveyed her work.

Looking up, she let out her breath in a whimper. Now came the hard part.

One particularly large snake lay across her lap, the dark eyes staring at
her in intense curiosity as she slowly began to slide towards the edge of
the cot.

She had managed to do this only once before, when the pain of a full
bladder and the embarrassment of soiling herself had overridden her fear,
if only momentarily.

The large rattler obliged, slithering off to his own corner of the bed and
letting her pass, staring at her still.

Once up on her unsteady feet, Amanda swayed with the motion of the cabin;
her legs aching with the pain of cramped and cramping muscles. The vehicle
hit a bump; shaking the glass cases around and over her head ominously.
The snakes curled up around each other, over each other, twisting
themselves into Gordian knots near her; but that was all.

Standing by the small sink the young teenager carefully reached for the
small window; pulling the thin blinds up.

While there was no conceivable way for her to escape through the small
space, there was certainly enough room for a toy.

Holding the rabbit out in the rushing air for a few seconds she let it go;
feeling the wind rip it from her grasp.

Lurching back into the darkness of the cabin she thought once again about
opening the outside door, knowing that there was little chance she could
jump from the mobile home and not be seriously injured.

But another road bump resolved the decision for her - they were going way
too fast to contemplate any escape for now. Maybe when they stopped
somewhere again; when she could get to the door before he arrived and get
away from the snakes.

Making yet another futile check through the empty drawers for some sort of
weapon; she looked at the thin mattress, suppressing her urge to scream. 

On her last trip out she had contemplated staying in the small bathroom;
but one rather large and annoying serpent had wrapped himself around the
toilet, and there was no way she was going to spend any more time in there
than she had to - as it was she nearly broke her arm getting up and out of
there after using it.

Carefully she returned to the small cot, curling up in the farthest corner
as the largest snake watched her; the reptilian tongue flicking in and out
as they both waited to see what would happen.

******************
She was a bystander in her own dream and knew it.

Which made it even worse.

She was standing in a park with Melissa. Well, her younger self was; she
was standing nearby with her hands in the pockets of her trench coat,
unable to move.

Suddenly she knew she wasn't alone.

Around the playground there were other children; some on the swings and on
the slides. And she knew them all.

Kevin. Charlie. The Eves.

And Emily.

A lump gathered in her throat as she watched Emily happily playing in the
sandbox. She wanted to go to her; gather her up in her arms and talk and
cry and hug and comfort them both with the memories of what could have
been, what should have been.

Melissa looked up from where she was talking to the younger Dana,
frowning. Scully followed her stare to the shadows coming from the trees
around the playground.

Suddenly the darkness began to move; to coagulate at the base of one large
oak tree.

It had a face.

Fantana's face. And Reever's face. And a jumbled series of men she didn't
know or thought she knew or had just seen their pictures somewhere, all
snarling and hungry and staring at the children.

The creature moved out of the shadows now; the tentacles stretching out
across the grass as it approached the playground. Approached the children.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't scream.

All she could do is watch as the first ebony strand touched Melissa;
freezing her in place as the young Dana stared, then started to scream.

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

Scully came awake with a jolt, grabbing at the dashboard with both hands
as her mind registered that they were slowing down; pulling over to the
side of the road.

Mulder looked over quickly. "Sorry..." He apologised, gesturing at the car
sitting just ahead of them on the gravel shoulder. "They were waving at
us. Must be a flat tire or something..." He put the car into park and
watched her; taking in the panicked expression still on her face as she
shifted into full consciousness. "You okay?"

"No... yes... I'm fine..." Rubbing her face, she nodded. "I was just...
just having a bad dream."

He nodded, then reached over and patted her hand. "I understand. Let me
just check on what's going on here and we'll be back on the road in a few
minutes. We're still a good half-hour from the office as it is." Glancing
back at the awake St. George, he got out of the car.

"You look kinda toasted..." The Canadian gently asked, putting one hand on
Scully's shoulder.

"I'm just..." Shaking her head, she tilted it to one side; propping it up
with her right hand. "I guess I'm not dealing with this as well as I
should be."

"And how, pray tell, should that be?" St. George stifled a yawn, then
continued. "Dana, this isn't something you can pull procedure out of a
book to follow, or run an autopsy on. This is something so... bad that I
can't even think of how to deal with it..." Her voice dropped. "And she
wasn't my sister. Just my friend."

Scully looked at the floor, chewing on her lip. "I just don't know how to
tell my mother." A deep breath. "Probably because if I believe it, then I
can believe that what she did with the rest of her life was because of
this, not because she wanted to. That she was somehow forced out of our
family instead of choosing to leave..." She paused again, looking out at
the station wagon ahead of them. "That she couldn't tell any of us, not
even me... that's what hurts the most. That she didn't trust me or Mom or
Dad enough."

Jackie nodded. "Well... we'll get the truth from Fantana and then we'll
all deal with it - and he'll get what he deserves, believe me." She
glanced out the front windshield. "What's going on with Mulder?" 

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

Mulder approached the wagon warily, checking out the occupants as he came
up alongside. The golden retriever made a half-hearted attempt to bark,
settling for a session of frantic tail-waving as he settled down beside
the young boy in the back seat. In the front, the frazzled mother huffed
as she stared at her husband; who was starting to walk towards Mulder.

Noting the out-of-state plates, the FBI agent walked up to the man. "You
were waving us down..."

The stout man nodded, wiping his forehead on one sleeve of his flannel
shirt. "Yah - we need to get ahold of the cops. Do you have a cell phone?"

Mulder pulled out both his badge and the phone, trying not to smile.
"What's up?"

"We just found this a few minutes ago..." He held up a wooden sculpture.
"Just about came through my damn windshield..."

Taking it from him quickly, Mulder frowned. "Where did you find it?"

The man scoffed. "More like it found us. It came flying outta the window
of this mobile home we were behind, a few miles back..." He pointed to a
crack on the front windshield, the jagged lines already spreading out from
the chipped glass. "I was scared and pulled over 'cause I couldn't see
properly and to see what damage was done. So then my son finds this on the
side of the road while I'm looking at the glass, and well..." He gestured
for Mulder to turn the toy over.

The deep scratches were still visible despite the scrapes and indentations
from being bounced along a road and off a car's windshield.

HELP
CALL POLICE
A.D.

The man shrugged. "I don't know if it's some sort of prank..." He stopped
as he watched Mulder yank out his phone, dialling swiftly. 

"How long ago did this happen?" Mulder demanded, his tone clipped and
professional.

The man shrugged. "Maybe ten, twenty minutes ago. We pulled over and then
Tommy found it while walking Scooter, so..." His voice dwindled as he
listened to Mulder rattle off commands into the receiver.

Dropping the phone back into his pocket, Mulder nodded. "Stay right here.
Someone's going to be along in a few minutes to take a statement from you
and your family."

"What about..." The driver's response was lost in the wind as Mulder
turned around, running back to the car.

Tossing the carving into Scully's lap he turned the key in the ignition
and spun the wheel hard, pulling out onto the road in a spray of gravel.

His partner looked at the scratches, handing it back to St. George. "Where
are they?"

"Twenty minutes or so ahead of us." Mulder stepped on the gas pedal. "I've
already called Hunter and he's sending men out ahead and behind us to set
up the roadblock."

"Except we're the closest..." Scully murmured, turning the rabbit over and
over in her hands.

"Hey, I'll take luck like this anytime, Mulder - can you get me a six-pack
to go?" The comment came from the back seat as the Canadian flipped open
the cylinder of her .38; checking her rounds.

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

end of part 4....

Dragons in The Playground (5/5)
by Sheryl Martin

Tapping the speed dial, Scully spoke quietly into her phone; updating the
ASAC every few minutes of their position. After what seemed like hours, a
vehicle appeared far in front of them, unmistakably a mobile home.

"There..." Mulder breathed the words, stomping harder on the gas pedal
then easing off.

"What are you doing?" St. George groused from the back seat.

"We're going to hang back and follow..." From the tone of his voice,
Mulder wasn't happy with the path they were taking either. "Hunter's
afraid that we might endanger the girl if we confront Reever without
proper backup." The scorn in the last few words expressed his opinion
without elaborating.

Scully looked over, catching the tail end of his scowl. Putting the phone
down for a second on her leg, she stared at the trailer. "Hunter says
we've got about ten minutes before anyone can catch up to us..." She
sighed. "Seems that the manpower is so spread out that we're it for
now..." 

"Merde..." The French curse shot out. "The bastard's turning..."

Mulder shot a look at Scully. "If we follow him onto that side road, he's
going to figure out pretty fast that we're following him. Tell Hunter that
he better put jet engines on those backups..."

Talking quickly into the phone, the redhead adjusted her seat belt as the
car slowed enough to take the turn safely; then slowed again to keep what
Mulder hoped was a discreet distance between them and the trailer.

"He's gonna see us..." St. George snorted from the back seat. "And I'm not
going to be filling out paperwork as to why I'm even here with you two
again..."

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

Reever glanced to the duffel bag sitting beside him on the seat. A thin
silver line of duct tape peeked out from one side of the open bag, making
him smile.

Only a few more hours. She only had to live until sunset and then she
would be proven.

Unlike the last one. She hadn't been right; she had tricked him by not
being bitten until after.

But he had a good feeling about this one. 

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

"Hunter says ten minutes more... he's rerouting a team from the other end
of this road..." Scully put the phone down again. "Mulder... he's speeding
up."

The taillights of the mobile home bounced up and down on the dirt road in
front of them as the vehicle surged ahead of them in a burst of gravel and
dirt.

"Dammit... he's made us..." Stomping down on the pedal again, Mulder
swore. "Looks like we're going to be the calvary..."

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

He didn't know who they were, but he didn't like the feeling it gave him. 

A sore feeling in the pit of his stomach, like when his dad yelled at him.

Or when Joey had sent him back to the trailer.

Jerking the wheel from side to side, he watched the blue car advance on
him; the distance decreasing steadily as the mobile home spun and slipped
on the dirt road.

Suddenly Reever snapped his attention back to the front of the trailer and
to the road he was driving on.

And the tree at the centre of the turn he was not about to make.

Closing his eyes, he spun the steering wheel hard; hoping that he could
make the sharp curve.

**********

"Oh sh...." Mulder's words were lost in a screeching of rubber and the
tearing of metal as they watched the trailer's back tires skid on the
gravel road; the back end of the mobile home swinging out off the road
itself and into the narrow ditch that ran along both sides of the road.

Standing up on the brake pedal with all his weight, Mulder wrenched the
wheel to the left; hearing and smelling the burnt rubber as their own car
spun around in a flurry of dust and stone. 

As the car slid to a stop he hurriedly unfastened his seat belt, twisting
his head to one side to see his partner.

Scully was already opening the car door; pistol free of her holster as she
advanced on the crashed trailer. Letting out a grunt, St. George stumbled
out of the back.

Putting up one hand to protect his eyes from the worst of the steam and
dust and smoke, Mulder headed for the driver's side. "Check out the
trailer!" 

Automatically Scully responded, heading around to the far side where the
trailer lay at a nasty slant in the ditch; the dirty water not high enough
to reach the door which opened down into the water.

Pausing to flip the safety off his pistol, Mulder took a deep breath and
spun around to face the driver...

...who was sprawled across his steering wheel, blood pouring from a deep
gash in his forehead as he looked at the FBI agent.

Reholstering his weapon Mulder opened the door carefully, making sure he
didn't injure Reever more.

The man looked up at his captor with a puzzled expression, the thick
liquid trickling down one side of his nose and over his open lips.

"It's not supposed to happen this way..." He whispered just loudly enough
for Mulder to hear. "It's never supposed to happen like this..."

"Yah, well... watch more of Fox's Greatest Police Chases next time..."

Sliding down into the ankle-deep water Scully tugged at the doorknob. With
a sickening sucking noise the Canadian appeared beside her, cane upraised. 

"Here... I've got the key..." With a grin she smashed the small window
with the curved end, reaching inside with one hand to unlock the door.

Suddenly she frowned, staring at the redhead with what could only be
described as a mixture of pain and pleasure.

A noise came from inside the trailer, something between a clap and a sonic
boom. With a grimace St. George swung the door open, withdrawing her arm
slowly.

"Go get her, Dana..." She smiled, taking a step back in the mud that
swirled around her feet.

Slipping her pistol back into her holster, Scully put both hands on the
doorframe and pulled herself into the slanted cabin.

"FBI!" She called out first, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dim
light coming in through one small window.

"Hello?" A soft voice drifted through the darkness. "Hello?"

Scully gasped as she made out what was inside the cramped space. Broken
glass was spread across the entire surface of the cabin, obviously from
the cases that had fallen off their shelves when the crash had occurred.

Along with releasing all of the snakes. She couldn't see clearly enough to
count, but there were more snakes here than she had ever seen in her
entire life.

And that was way too many.

Clenching her teeth Scully dug out her small flashlight from one pocket,
balancing herself precariously with one hand resting on the wall of the
overturned cabin.

Sweeping the narrow bear around from side to side, she could make out a
small figure at the back of the trailer; blinking quickly at the sudden
intrusion.

"Have you come to save me?" The quiet question reverberated through the
silence.

Despite herself, Scully smiled. "No, you already did that." Taking a
careful step forward, she aimed the beam down at the floor/counter top
below.

There were snakes.

Plenty of snakes. Garter snakes, Night snakes, Mud snakes... not to
mention the quite recognisable rattlers that were lying here and there
across the floor space.

But none of them moved. Not a rattle or a hiss or even a flick of a tail.

"They're all dead..." Scully whispered to the darkness, her surprised tone
carrying to the scared girl. "They're all dead..."

Tentatively Amanda Derkins put one foot down on the floor/counter top,
waiting for the familiar rattle of her companions as she moved free of the
twisted bedspread. Hearing nothing, she stepped carefully and daintily
towards the waiting woman.

"Just a bit further..." Scully urged her along, sweeping her flashlight
back and forth across the dead bodies. The sound of sirens grew louder in
her ears, and she knew that even if Amanda was bitten now it was quite
likely they could save her with the right medical personnel around.

But it was an unfounded worry. Reaching out, Amanda touched Scully's hand
gently; her fingers curling around the older woman's hand as she lurched
forward into the agent's embrace, hysterically crying.

Carefully stepping down into the mud and water again, Scully held onto the
young girl's hands as she jumped down into the ditch; squinting at the
unfamiliar sunlight.

Mulder appeared at the edge, extending a hand towards his partner.
"They're all here now - Reever's in custody and heading for an
ambulance..." Another agent appeared behind him. "Agent Scully? I'm Agent
Hunter..."

She nodded as she climbed up the grass hill, pulling Derkins behind her.
"We need some paramedics here..." A wave at her young follower. "She needs
to be checked out..." She warily eyed Hunter, knowing what she was saying
and not saying it out loud. He nodded.

"Right this way, Amanda. We'll take care of you - bet you're hungry and
thirsty, hum?"

Another agent appeared with a thick blanket, wrapping it around the young
teenager as she was led off to the waiting ambulance.

"What was inside?" Mulder asked, leaning down to take a swipe at some
drying mud at the bottom of Scully's coat.

"Dead snakes. All dead snakes..." Shaking her head, she walked towards the
ambulance. "I don't understand..."

Shaking her head, Amanda reached out through the crowd of agents and took
ahold of Scully's sleeve. "They weren't dead. I wouldn't have been trapped
in there if they had been dead, right?"

Looking down at the young girl, she frowned. "Then what killed them all?"

Amanda shrugged. "All I remember was that we crashed, and then somebody
was smashing the window of the door... and then there was this noise..."

Mulder glanced quickly at Scully who returned the worried stare. "What
type of noise?" He prompted her.

"It was kinda like a..." She waved her hands in the air, avoiding the
ministrations of the paramedics who were trying to check her over. "Like
when you flip a switch on and the light bulb burns out? Like that..."

"Where's Jackie?" Scully spun around, scanning the crowd of agents that
had pooled around the crash site.

Mulder shook his head. "I haven't seen her since the crash - I assumed she
was with you..."

Pushing her way through the assembled agents, Scully made her way back to
the crashed car. There, sitting in the front seat, was St. George.

Sound asleep and snoring.

Opening the door carefully, Dana reached inside and took ahold of her
right arm; pulling it off her lap.

"Look..." She murmured to Mulder, gesturing to the puncture wounds around
the wrist. "I see four..." Looking back towards the ambulance, she
released the hand. "We've got to get her help..."

"Nah..." The weary yawn brought the two of them back to stare at the
Canadian. "Just wanna sleep for a bit..." She smiled. "Feisty little
girl..."

"Well, with a name like Amanda what did you expect?" Mulder quipped.

Scully shook her head. "There's no way your system can be absorbing that
much poison, Jackie..."

A mumbled reply as her eyes closed. "Whatta think St. Patrick did, hmm..." 

"Still..." Waving at one of the sets of paramedics waiting nearby, Scully
gestured them over. "I want you checked out..."

"Sure..." The response ended in a yawn.

The blond-haired medic arrived, his partner in tow. "What's up?"

"I need you to check the vitals on her..." Scully pointed at St. George.
"She's got signs of snake bite..." Lifting Jackie's right hand again, she
pointed out the marks to the astonished attendants.

"Whoa..." The first medic took ahold of the wrist, seeking the pulse. His
partner dug into the box they had brought over; tossing equipment out onto
the ground.

A confused look crossed the attendant's face. "Pulse is steady... a bit
rapid, but normal." 

"Yah, well..." The would-be patient smiled as the paramedic dropped her
wrist in shock. "Normal is something I do try to aim for every day..."

"Is this some sort of joke?" The man whirled angrily on Scully. "If she
got bitten by anything more than mosquitoes, I'd eat my kit..." With an
annoyed shake of his head he waved his partner away, closing the box.
"Probably just drunk or something like that..."

"Thanks..." Mulder waved cheerfully as the two medical personnel walked
away. Scully stood there, her mouth slightly open.

"Mulder..." She gestured at the napping St. George. "This isn't possible."

"Dana..." Jackie mumbled. "Get over it..." The light snore brought a
chuckle from Mulder as he gently closed the front door.

"Well, she looks okay to me." Shrugging, he turned away from the car.
"So... how about spaghetti for lunch?"

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

The Pit was noisier than usual, most of the attention being focused around
and over the Reever case.

Looking across his desk Mulder casually flipped a sunflower seed at his
partner, who sat quietly doodling circles on her note pad.

"Cheer up, Scully. Jackie's fine, Amanda's doing great and Reever's headed
for a nice long term in jail. And Fantana's due back in a few weeks if
they can clear the paperwork faster than usual."

She nodded, her reddish hair waving back and forth. "I know. Everything is
working out fine. It was a good case. A solved case."

"Yah, well... not totally..." Ducking his head down, he caught her gaze
and dragged her eyes back up to sitting level. "I know what you're
thinking. I'll make sure that Skinner knows that we have to be kept up on
Fantana's case. All of it."

She slowly nodded again. "I know, Mulder. And I'm fine with it, really..."
Dropping the pencil on the desk, Scully sighed. "I just don't know what to
do now. Or how it's all supposed to work out."

"It does seem rather strange..." Mulder mused. "If Jackie hadn't come to
us with that carving and then you remembering that other one and us taking
them to the crime lab at the same time..." He let the sentence trail off,
letting her fill in the rest.

"I know, and it should make me feel good." Letting out another sigh, she
shifted uneasily in her chair. "We saved a life, and that's a success any
way you want to measure it."

"And Reever didn't touch her."

"That too." She picked up the pencil again; dragging the edge across the
paper. "I just don't know where to go from here. Where I can go from here.
Where my family needs to go from here..." Her comments were cut off by the
phone ringing on Mulder's desk.

Putting up a finger to hold Scully's words, he grabbed the receiver.
"Mulder... yes... we'll be right there, sir..." Putting the receiver down,
he scowled. "Skinner wants to see us."

Reaching around to pluck her blazer off the back of her chair, she got to
her feet. "Did he say what for?"

Slipping his own jacket on, Mulder shook his head. "Not a word. Probably
wants to remind us about the paperwork or something just as foolish..."

"Well..." Forcing a smile onto her face, the redhead held the door open
for her partner. "We did have to erase most of Jackie's antics again..."

"What antics?" Mulder deadpanned as he pushed the elevator button. "I
didn't see any antics..."

Opening the door leading into Skinner's office Mulder did a short
double-take as he spotted St. George standing at the side of the large oak
desk, leaning on the wooden cane.

"Mulder... Scully..." Assistant Director Skinner stood up from behind his
desk as the two agents entered. "Take a seat, please..."

Resting against the desk, Jackie glanced at the older man as they watched
the two agents take their seats in front of them.

As he put up a hand to rub the bridge of his nose Skinner licked his lips;
his gaze shifting from one agent to the other.

"Sir?" Scully asked after a tense moment. "You wanted to see us?"

"Actually, Agent Scully..." The tall man nodded. "Yes, I did. I wanted to
congratulate you on dealing with the Derkins case so quickly. The Bureau
is quite pleased with your results on this and a commendation is being
prepared to go into your personnel files."

Mulder shrugged, putting a hand to his mouth.

"But as for the Fantana case..." He glanced from St. George to Mulder.
"There's been a... problem."

Scully didn't move; sitting stock still. "What sort of problem, sir?"

Opening a folder that sat on his desk, Skinner glanced at the pages. "The
extradition procedures are being followed at this moment and we expect him
to be back in the States soon enough." The relief in Scully's face was
visible; the tension easing slightly in her body language. 

"But..." Skinner looked nervously at St. George then back to the papers he
held again. "We distributed the information about Fantana to all the
military bases and the towns the carnival went through - including San
Diego. We know that he was there numerous times during his lifetime."

She nodded in reply. "And you were hoping to hear from other victims. To
build a larger case against him in addition to his confession about
Reever."

Passing the folder across the desk, Skinner lowered his head. "I...
highlighted the parts of this statement that are pertinent. It comes from
Lieutenant-Commander Maria Stockhelm."

A mixture of confusion and recognition crossed Scully's face. "Maria... I
remember her. She used to live four doors down from us with her family
when my father was posted to San Diego..." Dropping her eyes to the papers
on her lap, she read aloud.

"...he gave me a wooden animal. I think it was a rabbit. I didn't want to
keep it; it scared me to have it around and I didn't want to think about
what it meant to me..." Her voice caught in her throat as she glanced up
at Skinner before continuing.

"I went to throw it away but I couldn't because someone would ask why I
had it in the first place. So I gave it to a friend of mine, another girl
I played with. She didn't have one so I figured that she hadn't met
Fantana and didn't know what it represented..."

Mulder's eyes shot to St. George's, finding the slight nod that confirmed
his thoughts.

"I gave it to a friend of mine called Missy who lived down the block from
me. They moved away a few months later and I never saw it again. I guess I
should have kept it but I couldn't ever see it and not feel... dirty..."

Closing the folder she sat quietly for a few minutes; her eyes locked on
the floor.

Clearing his throat, Skinner peered over his glasses at Mulder who got to
his feet quickly; standing by Scully's chair.

Looking up at the Assistant Director, she blinked once. Twice more before
standing up and placing the file on the large desk.

"Thank you, sir. I know this isn't exactly procedure..." Her voice was
shaky but still strong.

Tapping his fingers on the desk Skinner let out a weary sigh. "I don't
know what to tell you - that it all worked out in the end sounds rather
bland, but it's true in this case. And if you need a day off, well... I'll
understand."

"Thank you, sir." A glance towards St. George who shook her head sadly. "I
think I'll go home now."

Without waiting for a response she walked towards the door; Mulder
following close behind.

Skinner waited until the door had closed before turning to the Canadian.
"So... what are you going to do?"

St. George sighed. "I'm going to go to Vancouver for a few days, Walt. I
want to eat breakfast with my fiance on a beach and have dinner on a
mountain and not think about how the monsters in here..." She tapped her
chest. "Are worse than the monsters out there..."

**********

"Scully..." Mulder walked briskly behind her as they reentered the Pit;
watching as she picked up her briefcase and swung around towards the exit.
"Scully..."

Ignoring him, she trotted down the hallway and through into the parking
lot; Mulder in hot pursuit.

"Scully..." He repeated as he caught up to her at her car door, seeing her
fumble with the large key chain. The keys suddenly fell to the ground with
a jingle.

Stooping down, he scooped them up in one hand; slowly rising to stand in
front of the woman. "Scully..." Mulder said softly. "It's okay..."

Shaking her head, she lifted her face to stare at him; her eyes moist and
dark. "Mulder... what do I tell my mother? What do I say to her..." The
words broke off as she choked back a sob. "She was all right. He never
touched her; he never...." 

Reaching out he pulled her into his embrace; feeling the sobs rock her
body as she leaned against him, her face pressed against his chest as she
cried softly.

"Everything's okay..." Mulder murmured. "We'll both go talk to your mom..."

Lifting her tear-stained face, she snuffled back a laugh. "You just want
to be fed..."

Chuckling, he reached up to tenderly pull a wet strand of auburn hair from
her cheek. "You see right through me, Scully..."

"Yes..." She sniffled. "And I like what I see..." A pause. "But can we
just stand here for a few minutes longer?"

Grinning, Mulder tightened his hold on the slender body. "As long as it
takes, Scully... as long as it takes..."

Putting her head back down on his chest she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Although I should point out that this will cost you at least dinner and
dessert..." The rumbling voice echoed in her ears; causing her to let out
a soft laugh. 

"Anything you want, Mulder..." She glanced up, seeing his raised eyebrow.
"As long as you ask my mother..."

Mulder's pouting pose had her grinning for days with the memory.

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

Author's note: The greatest of thanks for research and help to Kelli
Rocherolle, who has walked in the shadows with these men and women and for
that, is a much better person than I...

'Nuff said...