*************
Original Sin

Chapter Five

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

"You must think all the neon out there has fried my brain."  Sheriff Holloway 
glared from Mulder to Scully and back again.  "Sure, we've got a couple dozen 
Elvis Presleys and Marilyn Monroe wannabes...hell, for a hundred bucks I bet you 
could find someone to impersonate your momma. But I am the genuine article, you 
got that?  I've been on the job twenty-two years now and I recognize a bullshit 
story when I hear one."

"It's not a story," Mulder said.   "She was abducted from our home November 
twenty-seventh, nineteen seventy-three at the age of eight and is still listed as 
a missing person to this day.  You can check that easily enough."

"And I surely will.  But here's the part I'm having trouble with: she goes missing 
at eight years old but somehow Agent Scully takes one look at our D.B. and 
recognizes her as your sister.  I don't even recognize myself in pictures from 
when I was eight.  Then instead of telling me about her epiphany, she runs a DNA 
test behind my back."

"I wanted to be sure.  As you yourself note, it's a rather incredible 
coincidence."

"I'll say.  This woman had two brothers two thousand miles apart and you're cozy 
with the both of them.  You want to explain how you recognized a badly beaten 
woman as Samantha Mulder?"

It was the first time she'd heard the name out loud in years.  She felt suddenly 
lightheaded. "Well, sir, I..."

"We had a computerized rendering that showed what she would look like as an 
adult," Mulder cut in.

Holloway folded his arms.  "I'm getting out my hip boots and my shovel again."

The door opened and Ruben entered, followed quickly by Officer Mary.  "I'm sorry, 
sir, but he slipped by me."

"If he gets to stay, so do I," Ruben replied.  "I want to know what the hell is 
happening with this investigation."

"It's okay, Mary."

"Sir, I've got Jack Milgram outside too."

Holloway sighed and rubbed his head.  "Send him on in.  I'm going to have enough 
fibbies in here to start my own branch agency."

"Hey, what are these?"  Ruben picked up the evidence bag containing the 
photographs of Mulder.  "Wait a second.  She had pictures of you?"

"It's news to me," Mulder said as Milgram entered the crowded office.

He looked Mulder up and down.  "Who are you?"

"Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder said, but did not bother to draw his ID.

"Fox Mulder.  I know that name.  Have we met?"

She watched as Mulder turned his profiler's eyes to the other man's narrowed eyes, 
pointed chin, and receding salt-and-pepper hairline.  If he noted, as she had, the 
pressed suit and freshly shined shoes, then she expected he would reach the same 
conclusion she had: Milgram couldn't be too distracted by his ex-wife's horrific 
death.
  
"I don't think so," Mulder said at length.

"Why did she have these pictures?"  Ruben was still trying to see through the 
sealed evidence bag.

Sheriff Holloway gestured toward Mulder.  "Any theories?"

"Honestly, I have none.  That top one is taken outside my apartment back in D.C., 
and the one underneath appears shot with a telephoto lens.  It seems as though 
someone may have had me under surveillance."

"You thinking P.I.?" Holloway asked.

Ruben looked up.  "She said she wanted to know more about her past.  She might 
have hired a private investigator."

Mulder shook his head.  "Possible, I guess, but it doesn't make a whole lot of 
sense.  She would have known my name and I'm not hard to find.  I've had the same 
address for the last ten years.  My mother's had the same address for the last 
twenty years."

"Fox Mulder," Milgram said.  "I've got it now.  About six years ago our office 
consulted on an investigation of a supposed vampire cult involved in fires out in 
the hills.  Not my case, but I read the report and your name was on it.  I 
remember Lou Kendrick talking afterward, and to hear him tell it, you were part of 
some monster-hunting unit back in Washington."

It wasn't a case she had worked on.  That she could still know this with such 
certainty surprised her, but this wasn't that vampire outbreak Chaney, Texas.  She 
tried to get Mulder to look at her but he avoided her eyes and then she knew.  
This was one of the cases they never talked about, the ones he'd worked while she 
was gone.

He no doubt had dozens of such cases now.  

"I don't think I'd go so far as to call the X-files a unit," he said.

"Is that why you're here?  You're working this case?"

"He's very much not working this case," Holloway said.  "Look, I want everyone 
out.  I need to make a couple of calls."

"Sheriff, I wanted to talk to you about that other murder last month," Milgram 
said.

"Out."   Holloway pointed at the door.  "I want my office back."

Scully excused herself to the ladies' room, where she splashed cool water on her 
face.  She stared at her reflection while water dripped from her chin.  She'd lost 
hours this way back when she'd first returned, studying the strange woman in the 
mirror whose hair had grown longer and whose cheeks sagged with extra weight.  
Slowly, she reached behind her head and fingered through the fine hairs until she 
reached the raised, hardened tissue at her neck.

After Ruskin Dam, she was sure she felt it smoking.  "I'm taking it out," she'd 
told Mulder.  "I can't live this way."

"You can't live without it."

They had turned her into a zombie, a walking GPS device and their own Red Queen.  
They'd done so with Mulder's blessing.

"Did you know?" she'd asked Mulder.  "Did you know what it was when you gave it to 
me?"

"Of course not."

"We don't know what else it can do then, do we? I read classified documents.  I 
have security clearance.  I carry a loaded gun for Christ's sake!"

She wondered now if that was when he'd decided to cut her loose.  It was certainly 
the first time she'd really contemplated leaving.

Back outside, there were two long benches in the hall where the men waited.  
Mulder sat on one while Ruben took the other; she could see Jack Milgram through 
the window, pacing with his cell phone and a cigarette.  Eventually she lowered 
herself next to Ruben.

"All these years I thought she was just like me," he said.  "Father who ran off.  
Mother who couldn't give a damn."

From what little Scully knew of the Bill and Teena Mulder show, Ruben wasn't 
entirely off base. 

Ruben glanced over at Mulder.  "I can remember my mother screaming at the DCS 
workers who took me away.  She chased them into the street wearing only her purple 
bathrobe, yelling that she'd kill them before she'd let them have her son.  Filthy 
kidnappers, she called them.  A year later she signed over her parental rights 
without even a fight.  She didn't even show up in court to say good-bye."

Scully turned her head slowly to meet his eyes. He looked sad as he leaned back 
against the wall.
"There was no one to spend twenty-six years looking for me."

*******

Dottie knew better than to meet Old Smokey out of plain sight, so she had asked 
him via voicemail to show up at the Plain Hills Mall food court at high noon. She 
brought her gun, a Wendy's chocolate Frostie and a manila folder with a dead woman 
in it.

At twelve exactly, she spotted him across the room.  He paused and kind of 
narrowed his eyes at her as if trying to decide if she was worth the trouble.  She 
waited him out and eventually he wound his way through the tables to join her.  
"Mr. Jameson," she said, "thanks for coming."

"Clearly private investigation doesn't pay as well as it used to, if this is your 
preferred venue for a business lunch."
A toddler streaked by, his face covered in ketchup. "I don't expect we'll be here 
long," Dottie said.

"Your message said it was urgent."  His glance around the noisy atrium suggested 
he no longer believed her.

"I may have a lead on your wife."

"Oh?"  He eyed the folder.  "Well, I appreciate your efforts on my behalf I'm 
afraid any additional information won't be necessary.  Stephanie's come home, you 
see, last night.  She's apologized for worrying me and said she just needed some 
private time to herself.  I've accepted her tale as is and I'm not looking to 
disprove it, if that's why we're here."

"She came home?  And you didn't mention this before?"

He took out a cigarette and tapped it on the cheap plastic table. "It was late 
last night.  I was prepared to call today when I found your message on my 
answering service."  

"Does the name Samantha Milgram mean anything to you?"

"No," he said without blinking.  "Should it?"

She slid the envelope across to him.  "She turned up bludgeoned to death three 
night ago at the Mayfield inn.  So far there are no leads on her killer."

"Tragic," he replied, but made no move to open the envelope.

She gestured at it with her chin.  "You should take a look.  Might jog your 
memory."

He left the unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth as he extracted the photo of 
Samantha Milgram.  She watched him closely but he just flicked over the image, 
apparently unmoved.  "This is what you're calling urgent?"

"You have to admit the resemblance."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.  I see half of a bruised and 
swollen face with beginning signs of decomposition."  He tossed it back at her.

Dot's heart started to hammer and her mouth went dry.  You dirty bastard, she 
thought.  You think you can just jet in here and use our city as a human garbage 
dump.  

"It's her, isn't it?" She was pleased when her fingers didn't shake as she 
collected the photo. "That's your wife."

"On the contrary, you told me yourself she's been identified as Samantha Milgram.  
My wife is at home with our children in Connecticut."

"You'll understand why I might have trouble believing that statement."

He set the cigarette lengthwise across the top of his pack and took out his cell 
phone.  "I thought you might want some proof, so I took this little home movie 
this morning at breakfast."

He called up the clip and handed the phone across to her.  She watched the shaky 
footage, which showed the woman from the photographs wearing a paisley print 
summer top.  She sat at a large wooden table with a boy of about six next to her.  

"Mom, can we go swimming after this?" he asked over his cereal bowl.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."  Stephanie/Samantha handed him a napkin.

"Please, mom?"

"Smile, darling."  Old Smokey's voice came from off screen.  "We're so glad to 
have you back."

The woman forced a thin smile for the camera and then abruptly pushed her chair 
back.  The shot cut out as she left the table.

"So you see?" Jameson told her.  "Alive and well."

"This could have been shot at any time."

He took the phone from her hands and hit a few buttons.  "Not the recording date.  
Seven-oh-six this morning."

Okay, so he's got you there, she told herself.  Damn him if he wasn't giving her a 
faint smile.  He put the cigarette back in his mouth and the pack back into his 
coat pocket.

"So you'll understand why I won't be needing any more of your services," he said.  
"Though I'd be happy to pick up any expenses you've incurred on my behalf."  He 
withdrew his wallet and counted out a thousand dollars, which he put down squarely 
over the picture of Samantha Milgram's blooded face.  "I expect this should cover 
it," he said as he stood to leave.

Dot didn't touch the money.  "Seven-oh-six this morning, huh?  That must have been 
right before you went to the airport."

"I beg your pardon?"  He already had his lighter out and poised.

"It's noon now, three PM back in Connecticut.  Factor in travel time and to ensure 
being on time for this meeting, you must have hopped a plane pretty much 
immediately after filming that tender family moment."

"Is there a point to all this?"

"I'm wondering why you didn't just call."

"You said it was urgent."

"Yeah, and you believed me.  Despite the fact that your family was back together 
again.  It's an awful long flight to take just so you could fire me.  You sure you 
don't want to take a look at this picture again?"  

"Thank you, no.  We're done here."

As he stalked away, Dottie collected the money and the photograph.  Then she 
pulled out her cell phone.  "He's leaving now," she told Scotty when he answered.  
"Headed toward the west exit.  Make sure you follow him."

"I'm on it."

"Keep your distance on this one, okay?  I'd rather lose him than lose you."

******

Mulder found Scully back by the soda machine, in the process of finishing a phone 
call.  "Getting the races from your bookie?" he asked as she snapped her cell 
closed.

"Calling the ADA to let him know I'll be here another few days."

"Unofficial capacity.  That can eat into your vacation time in a hurry."

"I have it to give."

He fed quarters into the Coke machine.  "Two years and two thousand miles between 
us and I can still screw with your private time.  Sorry about that, Scully."

"I called you in," she said.  "Not the other way around.  I'd be here with or 
without you, Mulder."

His Coke dropped with a thud.  "Point taken.  He seems nice, by the way.  Ruben."

"He is nice."
"I just said as much.  Did you expect me to disapprove?"

"I wasn't expecting you would ever have occasion to meet."

He cracked open the tin can; his soda let out a long hiss and he felt the years 
evaporate away.  Here she was, dressed in a dark suit and arguing with him in a 
government hallway again. 

"I wondered," he said before taking a sip, "I wondered when you left if you ever 
planned on coming back.  I guess there I have my answer."

"I hardly think you get to lodge a protest when you all but showed me the door.  
?It's too dangerous, Scully.  The X-files clubhouse only holds two members.  Have 
a nice life, Scully.'"

"Hey, they made it crystal clear they were going to keep coming after you, and you 
made it equally apparent that you were content to let them.  They treated you like 
a glorified lab rat and I was the one who got to watch the experiments.  There was 
no other way to make it stop, Scully.  The only way to win their game is not to 
play."

She walked away from him, shaking her head.  "I can't believe you're really this 
na?ve, not after all these years."

"It's been two years without incident, right?  I'd call that a success."

"And yet here we are again," she replied as she turned around to face him.  "The 
man I'm involved with just happens to have a murdered sister who appears also have 
been your sister.  Oh, and she was married to a senior FBI agent.  Doesn't this 
strike you as just a little more than coincidental?  Ten miles, two thousand miles 
? it makes no difference."

"Wait a second."  He glanced behind him at the empty hall.  "You're saying you 
think it's a setup?  That Milgram's involved?"

"I'm saying I'm still a lab rat.  The only difference is that you're not here to 
watch."

"That's not fair."

"Is it? I have a tracking device in my neck!  Or had you forgotten that part?"

He drew up short. If she was the rat, he was the lab assistant to that little 
experiment.  Samantha or Scully.  Scully or Samantha.  Someone always was making 
him choose, and he picked the same one every single time, with predictable 
results:  you can save her but you can't have her back.

"You didn't set me free, Mulder."  She looked older, tired.  "You just cut me out 
of the loop."

"Yeah, well."  He felt old now too.  "If it makes you feel any better I cut myself 
out of the loop too."  He leaned against the dull gray wall and stared up at the 
cardboard ceiling.

"Diana still has the X-files?"  Her tone was polite, almost disinterested.

He rolled his head to look at her.  "We still work for the same institution, 
Scully.  Don't tell me you didn't already know the answer to that."

"I knew," she admitted, taking a step closer to him but not looking him in the 
eyes.

"Must have made you happy."

"Happy?" she echoed as though she'd never heard of such a thing.  "Of course I'm 
not happy.  The answers I want are still in those files somewhere, and at least if 
you were investigating, I'd know that someone was trying to find the truth."

"You don't think Agent Fowley--"

"Oh, please. Spare me the ?Agent Fowley' nonsense.  I know you and she 
are...whatever it is you're calling it.  Personally involved."

"What?"  He pushed off from the wall, genuinely shocked.

"You can't believe how badly people wanted me to know.  I practically got a 
singing interoffice telegram.  But I can't say it came as a particular surprise.  
Diana Fowley showed up with a very short agenda, to claim both you and the X-
files, and from where things stand, it seems like she is two for two."

"It's more complicated than that," he said, and Scully gave a derisive snort.

"Two years without incident.  Your words, not mine.  How many days did we ever 
manage to go between DOD strip searches, NSA kidnappings, and insubordination 
hearings?"

"She's made some progress."  He struggled to come up with specifics.

Scully lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows.  "Oh?"

"She helped me found the X-files," he said finally.  "You can't really think she's 
on their side."

Some sympathy returned to her eyes.  "I don't know, Mulder.  All I can say is that 
it doesn't seem like she was ever really on yours."

"Am I interrupting something?"  They both turned to find Ruben Cetera at the end 
of the hall.

Scully cleared her throat.  "No, of course not."

"Milgram wants to talk to Mulder.  He says your secret is out."

Scully glanced up at him.  "He knows?"

"I didn't say anything to him."

Ruben held up his hands.  "Don't look at me.  The guy's been outside smoking and 
talking on his cell phone the entire time you two were back here...doing whatever 
it is you were doing."

"Just catching up," Mulder said easily as he breezed past Scully.  He drained his 
Coke, crushed the can one-handed, and tossed it back over his shoulder, sinking it 
into the garbage on the first try.  "Still got it," he said, facing backward to 
look at Scully.

He caught just a hint of a smile on her face as he turned around again. 

"There he is."  Jack Milgram pointed from across the room.  "You were holding out 
me, my man.  Forget all that spooks and goblins shit, you're the Fox Mulder who 
wowed BSU back in the day.  Monty Props, Calvin Banks -- you trained under Bill 
Patterson and then caught the crazy SOB himself.  We need you on this case."

"I don't think..."

"Too late.  I already have the wheels in motion.  Sheriff won't be able to say 
no."

"Watch me."  Sheriff Holloway emerged from his office, looking grim.  "Your story 
checks out," he told Mulder.  "But I can't have you on this case, not in any 
official capacity."

"I wouldn't expect otherwise."

"Holloway, I don't think you've got here.  Mulder is a primo profiler.  He's 
helped catch some of the countries most dangerous killers, almost single-handedly 
in some cases.  He could be a real resource to you here."

"I'm going to need all of you.  Not to help run this case but to start telling me 
the truth, and I mean all of it.  None of this makes sense. I've got a victim 
found savagely beaten inside one of our more seedy motels, and she turns out to be 
a family woman with two small kids at home."  He glared at Milgram.  "What the 
hell is she doing here alone?"

"I've been asking myself that same question," Milgram replied.  

"And you two."  Holloway looked from Mulder to Ruben.  "I don't pretend to 
understand the family dynamics going on, but I'm going to need a crash course.  
What happened to your sister back in the seventies, how she came to end up 
adopted, and why poking around in her past might have gotten her killed."

Mulder looked at Scully.  "I might have some ideas," he said, "but it would help 
if I knew a little more about the circumstances of her death."

"See?" Milgram pointed again.  "Let the man work.  He can solve this case."

"What is it you want to know?" Holloway asked.

"Reports from the scene.  Pictures, that sort of thing. I'd like if I could visit 
the motel room itself."

"Out of the question.  But I'll see what we can do on those reports.  Maybe.  No 
promises, and absolutely nothing leaves the premises."

"Fine by me," Mulder said, holding up his hands.  "I just want to help."

"Right now you can help by staying out of my way ? all of you.  I'll call you if I 
need you."  

After the sheriff left, Mulder crossed to where Scully and Ruben were standing.  
"Any way you can get me a look at the body?"

Scully looked pained.  "Maybe.  The M.E. has been surprisingly cooperative so far 
but he's running out of patience and I don't blame him.  He's going to catch hell 
from Holloway over the PCR test I asked him to run."

"Ask anyway, will you?  I owe you one."

"I'll make the call and plead your case.  I think his curiosity might be strong 
enough to make it happen.  Let me see what I can do."

"I want to go too," Ruben interjected, and Scully looked surprised.

"You've seen her," she said.  "There have been no new developments."

"That's not true.  Now I know who she is."

******

End chapter five.  Continued in chapter six.

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