XxXxX

Chapter Five

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The air was thick with the noxious stench of burning gas, 
melting rubber and charred leather.  Red lights from the fire 
trucks swirled through the smoke billowing into the sky as 
Mulder and I stood on the front lawn, wool coats covering our 
thin nightclothes in the bitter November night.  The heat 
from the fire melted the frost at our feet.  Beside us, 
Cathleen Duncan was rigid with anger.  A few yards closer and 
her 300 year-old house would have been in danger from the 
blaze.  

"This wasn't any witch who did this," she said, her fingers 
clenched on her crutches.

"Not unless witches have taken to making telephone calls," I 
agreed, and Mulder looked at me sharply. 

"What?"

I sighed.  "Someone called me a few minutes ago.  He or she 
wanted to make sure we got the message."

"Let me guess," Mulder said, eyeing the flames devouring our 
car, "quit the case or next time we might be in the car when 
it gets barbecued." 

"Well, the caller didn't have your way with words, but yes, 
that was the basic theme of our exchange."

"You didn't recognize the voice?"

"No," I replied, irritated because I couldn't give a better 
answer.   "It was raspy, like a whisper.  Probably male but I 
couldn't say for sure."

Just then a police car jerked to a halt in front of the 
house, its front right tire hopping the curb onto the 
sidewalk.  John Kazdin leapt from the driver's side and 
pushed past the gathering crowd to join us on the lawn.  
"What the hell happened?" he demanded as he climbed the hill.  

"Someone torched our car and then called Scully to gloat 
about it," Mulder answered, but Kazdin did not seem to hear 
him.  His eyes were on Cathleen.

"Cathy, are you okay?"  He enclosed her in a fierce, brief 
hug, careful not to knock her off balance.  The familiarity 
of the embrace, the instinctive tilt of their bodies into a 
moment of perfect unity, told me all I needed to know about 
their prior relationship.  She patted his back and shifted 
away.

"I'm fine, John.  No one got hurt."

His face shadowed with disbelief, Kazdin gave a quick nod, 
and I recognized this pas de deux as well.  It was a dance 
Mulder and I had perfected in the last year -- perfunctory 
questions with automatic answers.

"You two pissed someone off pretty good," Kazdin observed as 
he moved to stand next to Mulder.  The dying flames danced in 
the black of his eyes.

"Everyone's got to have a talent," Mulder answered.

Kazdin ignored him.  "Witnesses?"

I shook my head, stepping in line with them.  "None so far.  
But the explosion was enough to wake the dead."

"Hey!"  We turned in unison to find an overweight man of 
about sixty trudging up the path.  It was two in the morning, 
but he wore a suit. 	

Kazdin straightened his shoulders as the man drew near. 
"Mayor Purcell," he said by way of greeting, and Mulder and I 
exchanged a look behind his back.  Apparently we were now 
important enough to draw out the big guns.

"Kazdin, what's happening?"

"Car fire, Sir.  No witnesses so far."

Purcell nodded as though he'd been told the secret of the 
ages, then squinted at Mulder and me.  "You the FBI?"

"Agents Scully and Mulder," I answered, and he gave my hand 
the politician squeeze. "It was our car that blew."

He raised his eyebrows.  "Connected with the case?"

"We think so, yes."

Purcell nodded again, clasping his hands behind his back and 
rocking on his heels.  We watched together as the 
firefighters hosed down the blackened shell of our Taurus.  
"I understand you've been questioning my family," Purcell 
said after a few moments, his eyes still on the scene below.

"I talked to Lee-Lee this afternoon," I replied.  "But 
there's been no formal inquiry."

He jerked his head around to me, his chubby cheeks puffed 
with repressed anger.  "Damn straight there's been no formal 
inquiry.  You people ought to be ashamed of yourselves, 
dragging her into this mess on account of some old ghost 
story.  Lee-Lee's a good girl.  She didn't have anything to 
do with these fires."

Mulder scratched the back of his head.  "So your family keeps 
telling us," he said, and I saw him glance at the remains of 
our car.

Mayor Purcell scowled.  "You don't get it, do you?  Lee-Lee's 
a sensitive girl.  Your questions...the stress..."  He broke 
off with a muttered curse, grinding his toe into the grass at 
his feet.  "I just don't want to see her get hurt again."

The crowds in the street were beginning to break up as the 
firefighters reined in their hoses.  I wondered if my caller 
was somewhere in the shadows, watching the last tendrils of 
smoke curl into the night sky. 

Purcell interrupted my thoughts with quick, sharp words.  
"You talked to her," he said, meeting my eyes.  "You must 
know she couldn't do this sort of thing."

"Mr. Purcell, I don't know your stepdaughter well enough to 
answer that question.  But I will say this -- she's stronger 
than you think."

The wind, tinged with black smoke and gas fumes, sliced 
through our little circle and made Purcell's thin hair stand 
on end.  "One o'clock tomorrow in my office," he said.  "I'll 
have Lee-Lee there and you can ask all the questions you 
want.  Then I expect we will consider this matter settled."

He huffed his way back down the hill without waiting for our 
answer.  Cathleen shivered in his wake.  "I don't care how 
many votes he gets every year," she said.  "He always seems 
like a bully to me."

"Aw, he's not that bad," Kazdin protested.  "He's just 
protecting his family, that's all."

Cathleen stuck out her chin.  "Don't kid yourself.  Lee-Lee's 
not his family...those boys are.  Men like Carson Purcell, 
they know the difference."  She pulled her coat tight around 
her body, then adjusted her position on the crutches.  "I'm 
going inside.  There's hot tea in a few minutes for anyone 
who wants it."

She was careful not to look at Kazdin as she made the 
invitation, but even in the darkness, I saw his jaw tighten.  
"I can't," he said.

"Of course," she answered softly.  And then she was gone.

"Shit," Kazdin said in her absence.  There didn't seem to be 
any good reply to that, so Mulder and I kept quiet.  After a 
moment, he turned to face us.  "I didn't realize you 
questioned Lee-Lee," he said, his tone somewhat accusing.

"Not extensively," I countered.  "We talked for a few 
minutes."

Kazdin shook his head.  "You don't get it.  It doesn't work 
like DC here.  You can question folks all you want, but you 
aren't going to get any answers until you understand where 
they're coming from."

"And where is that?" Mulder asked.

"Here," Kazdin answered, spreading his arms.  "Most people 
have lived in Tiburton all their lives.  Their parents are 
here, their grandparents are here..."  He took a deep breath.  
"Look, I'm not saying you can't push.  But you've got to be 
subtle about it.  You want to come in here and shake things 
up, but whatever falls loose, these folks are going to have 
to live with the consequences."

"They are already living with the consequences," I said.  
"Someone is setting these fires for a reason."

"Yes, I get that.  But for someone -- maybe more than one 
person -- the fires are not as bad as the reason behind 
them."

Mulder tilted his head to one side.  "You think she's doing 
it, don't you?"

Kazdin looked away for a long minute before replying.  "Let's 
just say I'd like to be at the meeting tomorrow afternoon."

"Fine by me," Mulder said.  "But I don't know how much we'll 
get from Lee-Lee if her pit-bull relatives are around.  Hey, 
I wanted to ask you...Joe Bowman and Regina Tuttlesworth, 
were they connected to Katherine Centara's trial in any way?"

Kazdin looked at the stars as he considered.  "I was fifteen 
back then so the details are pretty fuzzy.  I know Stan 
Garber was her attorney, but..."  He looked back at us 
suddenly.  "You know, I think Regina might have been involved 
in the trial.  The name does sound familiar.  I can check and 
let you know, okay?"

"Great," Mulder said, and we moved a few steps closer to the 
house.  Kazdin halted as we reached the path.

"I'll be in touch," he said.  He glanced from us to the 
house.  "Give Cathy my regrets."

"Sure," I said.

But I suspected she already had them.

XxXxX

Back in bed, I could not sleep.  The moon pushed eerie white 
light into my room, and I flipped under its glare for twenty 
minutes before rising from my tangle of covers.  The glowing 
shafts drew me to the window, where I squinted up at the pan-
flat face in the sky.  I followed its beams to the earth and 
found a familiar figure hunched inside his black coat, 
leaning against the well in the yard.

I was not surprised by our shared restlessness; Mulder's 
movements had long had the power to make my senses hum.

My coat and shoes were still handy from my last outing, so I 
slipped them on and went to join him in the moon-lit yard.  
The air was a strange mix of burned car and dead leaves.  
Remnants of both crunched under my feet as I made my way 
across the lawn.

He looked up at my approach and slid aside without a word so 
that I could have a piece of the well.  "Find a wish after 
all?" I asked as I took my place.  He shook his head slowly.

"I was thinking about what Kazdin said...about living with 
the consequences."

"And now you think we shouldn't push Lee-Lee?  Mulder, what 
he said was--"

"I found Samantha."

"You what?"  I turned to look at him.  He tightened his lips 
and turned his eyes to the ground.

"Well, 'found' might not be the best word for it.  More like 
she was dangled in front of me in exchange for my 
cooperation."

"The deal," I said, with sudden realization.  "The one you 
told me about."

He let out a long breath and nodded.  "Just like getting a 
toaster with your new checking account -- bank with Morley & 
Company and get one free sister and the cure for cancer."

My fingers flew automatically to the back of my neck.  I 
rubbed the tiny scar as my stomach folded in on itself.  "I 
thought you said you didn't take it," I blurted, unable to 
look at him.

"I didn't."

"Then how...?"

"A freebie.  A tease.  Maybe part of some greater plan.  I 
don't know."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me."  My voice was sharp as 
the wind and brittle as the leaves.

"Oh, you must have known," he answered, pushing away from the 
well.  "Where the hell did you think the chip came from?  Did 
you think I just found it under my pillow one morning, like 
the tooth fairy?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing!  You knew, Scully.  You knew but you couldn't 
bring yourself to ask.  You didn't want to hear the dirty 
details, and I can't even blame you."  He paused, his angry 
breath evaporating in the night air.  "Consequences, Scully," 
he said more softly.  "You didn't want them."

I felt the my face flush hot. "How can you speak to me about 
consequences?  I live them every day, Mulder!  I've lived 
them in hospitals, in cemeteries...even inside my own skin.  
Maybe I don't talk about the things I've lost, but that 
doesn't mean I'm not aware of them.  It doesn't mean that I 
don't want answers, that --" 

"Scully..." He tried to cut me off.

"--that I don't want justice.  You've convinced me, Mulder.  
You said this work was important, and I've seen more than 
enough to believe you're right.  I'm in this as deep as you 
are, maybe deeper.  And now you seem like you're just giving 
up, and I don't understand that, and --"

"Scully!"  He grabbed me by the shoulders.  I stopped, trying 
to catch my breath, and he squeezed me hard.  "I know.  I 
know what you've risked, Scully...what you've lost.  No one 
knows more than me."

I wilted, suddenly spent.  "Then why are you stopping?"

"Why aren't you?"

Our eyes held for a long minute before he dropped his hands.  
I swayed at the loss of connection, unaware he had been 
holding me up.  He turned away with a jerk and returned to 
his spot against the well, arms folded over his chest.  I 
stood rooted in place, staring dumbstruck at a Mulder who was 
no longer there.   When movement returned, I resumed my 
position at his side.

"Is it because of Samantha?" I asked after a minute.  "You 
know the truth and so that's it for you?"

He snorted.  "Some truth.  Let me tell you how it was."  I 
listened as he recounted the painful conversation, complete 
with her tearful exit.

"So you think it was really her?" I asked when he fell 
silent.  I couldn't imagine it was.  I couldn't imagine that 
she would just walk away if she were the real thing.  

Mulder considered my question for a long time.  "I don't 
know," he whispered at last.  "I always thought I would know, 
that I could be sure...but now..."  He shrugged.  "Maybe 
there have been too many lies.  Maybe you've convinced me, 
too, Scully, and now I need proof."

"We can find that proof," I said, my throat aching at his 
defeated tone.  He shook his head.  "Mulder..."

"I've been trying to figure out why I didn't follow them, or 
why I haven't made any effort to track her down.  I could do 
it, I suppose.  I could find a way to get to her, maybe prove 
she was a fraud...maybe find she wasn't.  Maybe she really is 
a suburban mom with a husband and a life that doesn't need 
disrupting."

"You can't really believe that.  If that woman was really 
your sister, she has a right to know the truth.  So do you."

His hands clenched, he dropped his head, the fine arch of his 
neck pale in the moonlight.  "She doesn't remember what I 
remember, Scully.  She doesn't seem to want to remember.  And 
maybe I don't have the right to question that, because..."

I waited, watching his shadowed profile for several long 
moments.  "Because?"

"Because even if it's her, even if I do find Samantha...I'm 
never going to get her back.  Not really."  He looked up at 
last.  "And that's the truth."

I moved closer to him, the cold, hard stone digging into my 
lower back.  Our shoulders touched, warm and solid, and we 
were silent for a long time.  I let his sadness seep into me, 
absorbing it and making it my own the way I always did with 
Mulder's pain.  This sense of loss I understood.  My sister 
was had not vanished the way Mulder's did.  There was no 
endless quest on her behalf, no chasing traces of her around 
the world.  Melissa was forever still.

This year I turned thirty-three, the age Melissa was when she 
died.  Next year, I would be the older sister.  There weren't 
words sufficient to describe the heartache that gripped me 
whenever I thought of that.

But Mulder knew.

His hand crept across to find mine, and he squeezed it hard 
before releasing me with a sigh.  "I'm tired, Scully."

"It's late," I replied, forcing myself to take the easier 
meaning of his words.  He nodded and let me keep my 
illusions.

We crept inside the dark house and tried not to make too much 
noise on the creaking staircase as we returned to our rooms.  
Mulder murmured good-night to me outside my door, brushing my 
fingers with his, and I hurried inside before I could give in 
and pull him with me.  As I burrowed under the covers, I 
realized the moon was gone from my window.  I was plunged in 
darkness once more.

XxXxX 

End chapter five.  Continued in chapter six.

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