NOTE: Many people (including myself) have mixed feelings towards prexf fics. So I decided to write one myself. If like me, prexf is generally not your thing, than take a look anyway. You never know. "Seldom a Mistake" (1/8) Author: kristy_t Summary: One summer a special childhood friendship is made. One learns the value of friendship, the other; the harshness of life Archive: Yes. Rating: PG-13 Classification: S, A, Pre-XF M/S f'ship MulderTorture. Disclaimer: CC and 1013 owns the characters. Initial inspiration came from the book 'The Flight Of Burl Crow.' by Tim Lynne- Jones. And I hear by formally state that some small passages from the book were manipulated into the first scene of the story and I do not take credit for them. The rest is purely my doing. BIG THANKS: to Kristine for being the original sounding board and giving me encouragement to get this started, and for the edits, naturally. And of course to Cynthia and her 2 kittens for the fabulous beta reads as well as sorting out our Australianisms vs. Americanisms. Without you darling, this whole fic would be a complete mystery to Everyone. Including me. FEEDBACK: I swap choclate eclairs for feedback. Brutal honesty to: kristy_t@xoommail.com or gcondon@powerup.com.au Seldom A Mistake (1/8) `````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is seldom a mistake. ````````````````````````````````````````` Shore of Quonochontaug Pond 600 yards from the Mulder's Summer Home Quonochontaug, Rhode Island Wednesday 28th June, 1973 1:37 PM For no real reason other then to spend some time with the man that was his father, Fox Mulder followed Bill Mulder to a spot on the lake where his old man liked to fish. The place was a secret. Fox hung way back. Bill was whistling to himself. It was early summer. Along the lake the reeds shimmied and swayed in the light wind, wildflowers grew with renewed energy as if it was the beginning of spring, and here and there hairy bulrushes poked through the reeds surrounding the still lake. It was strange for Fox to hear his father whistle. Bill was quiet most often, a dark, gloomy kind of quiet like murmuring thunder a long way off. Then all of a sudden he could lightning bolt himself into a rage and send things hurtling across the room: a vase of flowers, a broken toy, a chair with you in it- whatever came to hand. It was wise to hold onto your seat when Bill was like that. The whistling led Fox to believe his father was not in one of those thunderhead moods. It gave him the nerve to go on. It was a foolish, dangerous game, following a man like Bill. But Fox still recalled with longing a time when his father took him places, showed him things. Those times might be lost, but he honestly believed with all the foolishness of an eleven year old, first-class dreamer, that when something was lost you just had to keep hunting for it. Coming to a stop and placing his fishing gear on the ground, Bill remained silent as he surveyed the inlet of the lake. The water was slow there, shallow, covered by trailing willow branches. In those green shadows a trout could laze and grow awfully big. >From the thick brush cover of the scrub above the clearing, Fox could see that the inlet was brimming with tiny little fish. But Bill had no nets, only his rod, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to use it. Crouching on the sand flats right at the water licked edge, he lit up a cigarette. The breeze ruffled Bill's thick head of dark hair, but it never found it's way up to Fox's uneasy hiding place. Out by the water Bill finished his cigarette, stubbed it with his toe and then reached into his pocket to light up for the second time. Now and then, Bill would reach up with his hand to wipe his sweat soaked forehead. Bill Mulder's hand was rigid and fast. Fox had felt the back of it enough, the palm of it too, but his fist; that was new to him. It was as if he had been saving the knuckles as a surprise for when Fox was older. Hiking with his father once, when he could still get close to the man, Fox remembered the time when they spotted an adolescent bear looming only twenty yards from the trail. Fox felt the urge to run now away from his father, but an even fiercer urge to stay. He might out run the bear, but he couldn't hope to outrun Bill. Any more than he could hope to wander down there to the lake and say, "I'm bored Dad, can I hang around here and talk to you?" Fox allowed himself to imagine it all the same. He imagined Bill putting out his cigarette and offering to share his stick of gum together. He imagined them taking off their shoes and socks and wading in amidst the swarming fish in the cold, clear water. They would talk and laugh together about things which normal fathers and sons spoke of, like baseball and fishing. When Fox was feeling most adventurous; Bill would smile, kneel down, put a hand on his son's shoulder and tell him how much he enjoyed having him around. That he was proud of him and most importantly, that he liked him. Liked not loved. He dreamt, not hallucinated. Fox heard a sound from behind him on the path. It wasn't his imagination. Someone was coming. Someone was whistling the same tune as Bill, crunches of shoes and some distant laughter. All barely audible, but there nonetheless. Bill heard it too and quickly turned back around away from the water to face the forest. His dark, grey eyes turned distant, trying to pinpoint the direction of the far off sound. His expression turned to a frown, as he dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his shoe. His eyes continued to pursue the forest, until he picked out his quarry. "There had better not be a dumb-ass kid hiding in those bushes." He spoke sharp and loudly sending shudders though the boy. But the far off footsteps continued unabated. "Fox, it's you isn't it boy?" A fierce dreamer such as Fox could not even imagine himself out of this mess. The notion of running for it, passed through his head but he knew that either now or later it would still end up having the same result. Instead, eleven year old Fox William Mulder closed his eyes and hoped for the best. After all this time, Fox wondered how could he still hope that it would all magically disappear. God hadn't helped so why would anyone or anything else. Still, he hoped that someone was listening. He opened his eyes only to be met by his father striding towards him. Fox's legs shriveled underneath him and he squeezed his eyes shut once again. "You stupid little prick, what the hell are you doing here!?" Last ditch effort, Fox sprang for cover . . . to late . . . always to late. Bill's iron grip latched onto his shoulder, quick as a lion's jaw on a fleeing gazelle. "When are you going to learn to act your age, boy. Sneak up and spy on me will you!" Bill thundered. Fox cowered and covered his head in feeble defense. Bill cocked his head, "Where's your sister?" Shake of the head, shrug of the shoulders. "She's your sister, you're supposed to be watching her!" he exploded, causing Fox to flinch and duck for cover once again. "I uhh..." "Shut your face. Your mother was resting, I trusted you, Fox. She's only seven and now it's your fault that she's missing. She was your responsibility!" he raised his hand the boy shrunk back, but instead he sent the baseball cap flying from his sons head. "I . . . I didn't know . . . I'm only eleven . . .," he pleaded. "I'm only eleven," he mimicked. "Your eleven boy! That's four years older than your sister. But you, little asshole are to fucking stupid to do the math and know that you had to watch her!" "But . . . I . . .," A tortured soul. Knowing that he should have looked after her, but old enough to realise you don't leave a fifth grader to watch a seven year old. "I should have know better than to trust you with anything. You're a worthless little shit, you know that, son! Worthless, you can't do anything right, not even a simple job like stay with Samantha!" Crying now. "I'm sorry Dad, I'm really sorry." The footsteps and chirpy voices from afar continued to grow but Bill and his son failed to notice, even in the tense silence and anticipation that had fallen between them. The mutual silence continued while Bill studied his boy, tears streaming down Fox's face. Crying, the pathetic little shit was crying. He wondered not only how this miserable little fuck was related to him, but how he was actually his son. "We've had this conversation before Fox. When I say watch your sister, do it! Don't leave her behind, don't let her wander off, and don't bloody follow me around!" Fox cowered, covered his head in defense, and waited for it to begin. He always tried to put distance between himself and the beatings, imagine himself away. He was a deer sprinting through the plains all his troubles blowing away with the wind or fish deep down in the ocean gliding silently through the water without the faintest knowledge of the world beyond the sea. Occasionally a deer, sometimes a fish but more often than not, a turtle. He was a turtle that could haul up in his shell where he was safe and nothing could hurt him. Nobody. Something interrupted his thoughts but for once it wasn't the first blow. "Hello there!" A deep male voice came from about twenty feet. In great surprise Bill jumped back from his menacing stance over his son. He looked up wide eyed to see a tall, broad shouldered man lumbering towards them. "Now look what you've done," said Bill giving his son a look, one which Fox knew too well and hurriedly wiped away his tears. "William Scully," the broad man introduced, offering Bill his hand as he neared. "Fishing are you?" William said, noticing the rod and bucket down by the water. "Caught anything yet?" Reaching over for William's extended hand, "Bill Mulder," Fox's father greeted. "No, no we haven't caught anything yet. We were just about to get started, weren't we son," Bill smiled genuinely, and slithered his arm around Fox's shoulders as if he had done it every day of his life. Fox immediately stiffened at the unwelcome embrace snaking around his shoulders. He winced as Bill's hand touched the exact spot where that hand had come in contact with his shoulder just last week, yet in entirely different but nonetheless more familiar manner. Bill noted thankfully that William Scully didn't appear to notice his son's discomfort. But Bill Mulder had been around for long enough to know that you never assume anything. "What's your name young fella?" William asked, smiling down at the child. Fox looked up into the man's eyes. He knew he had been spoken too, but what was said, he had no idea. He looked up to his father, and saw him smiling down at him too. Not a scowl, or look of impatience, but an actual smile. A wide toothy one, the type usually saved only for Samantha. Where on earth had his father gone? The man that was yelling and absolutely furious not a minute ago was now completely transformed. Fox wondered who this person was that was masquerading as his father and contemplated asking him to stay around for awhile. But the man who had spoken was seeking an answer. Fox looked back into his round plumpish face and bright gentle blue eyes. His eyes spoke of regulation and order, but he also saw kindness and love. This man looked honest, friendly and made him feel important and worthwhile just by asking him a simple question. But what was the question? "Son, answer Mr. Scully. Where are your manners?" "With my happy nature, cheerfulness and everything else you've tried to beat out of me Dad," Was on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let loose. But his ribs ached mercilessly, pleading relent and not a repeat of last weeks slip of the tongue. "Fox Mulder, sir," he replied quietly. Sensing his timid nature, William bent over and smiled warmly, "Well, Fox. Maybe you could help me. My family and I appear to have gotten a little lost out here on this big ol' lake. We're looking for Donald McArthurson's cabin, we'll be staying there for the summer. Don't happen to know where it is do you?" For the first time Fox looked beyond the man to a few feet back up the path. And what he saw made him want to kneel down in awe and rage in the unfairness of the world at the same time. A family. Not like his but a proper family where the father actually liked his sons. A real family. The five stood together in unison. Content in their belonging and knowledge that without one of them it would be incomplete. No favoritism, no criticism and no pain; emotional, verbal or otherwise. He closed his eyes, all too much to bear. Fox knew that not every family was as distant and dysfunctional as his own, but going from about to face a flogging from his father and then suddenly confronted with the Partridge family was beyond belief. The family was of two boys and two girls. A boy about two years older than Fox appeared to be the eldest and his brother the baby of the family, seemed to be four or five years younger. The two girls each had bright flaming red hair, one seemed about his age and the other who was quite a bit shorter than her sister, a of couple years younger than him. On a second glance Fox realised that all four had bright red hair adorning there heads but the boys orange red hair was not nearly as noticeable as the long, auburn locks that fell to the shoulders of the girls The younger, shorter girl caught Fox staring and returned the gaze, and then both quickly looked away. The chance of Fox replying to William's question decreased as every second marched by. But his brain kicked in and began rattling of the information. "You must have taken the wrong path. If you go back about fifty yards the track goes off to the right. Take that and you can't miss it, leads right to the front door," he answered finally, staring at his shoes unable to meet William's kind, gentle eyes. Unable to show him the pain and misery that must scream from his own. "Ahh . . . well okay then. Thanks very much," William replied hurriedly and waved as he turned and the four Partridges retreated back up the path but not before smiling good bye. The youngest girl latched onto her father's hand and turned away too, but not before catching the tears streaming down Fox's face. Fox watched as they returned back up the path. Perfect and content just to be together. He sighed and tried to wipe the tears with his shirt. A moment later pounding footsteps returned down the track. The little girl stuck her head out from round a tree and waved to him. "Bye!" she called and was gone, not waiting for a reply. Fox waved in her direction, and then reluctantly turned back to his father, awaiting the inevitable. "Fox..." he began sternly after he was sure the Scully's were out of earshot and snarled, "I came here to fish, boy. Not to talk to you. Go on. Get the hell outta here." Fox looked up, frozen in place. That was it, nothing? Bill looked up to see he hadn't moved. "Get the hell outta here before I change my mind and come after you little fuck!" Bill roared. He was gone. END PART (1/8) Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 21:40:31 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (2/8) by kristy_t `````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is seldom a mistake. ````````````````````````````````````````` McArthurson's Summer House Quonochontaug, RI Thursday 10:17 AM "Billy, grab those boxes from the other room, sweetheart." "Okay, Mom," he groaned moving of the couch where he had occupied all morning. Moaning he rose to his feet, switched of the television and lazily shuffled out of the living room. Maggie Scully set about packing groceries into the cupboards of the cabin. A bedroom for the boys to share and another for her daughters and the third for William and herself it was by no means the small, cramped cabin they had been expecting from William's navy friend, Donald's description. "Mom, I'm going for a swim. Charlie's with me okay," Shouted the oldest girl Melissa running out the door to the lake with her little brother in tow. "Stay in front of the house where I can still see you," Maggie shouted after them moving to the front door. "And watch your brother, Missy," she called. "Melissa! Did you hear me?!" "This is only the second day of summer vacation Maggie. You're not due to start yelling at the kids for another hour or so yet," chuckled William approaching from behind and putting an arm around his wife. "It's just Charlie, he can't swim that well," she sighed, leaning back against him. "Hey, no sighing either, we're supposed to be having a relaxing time. Don't worry I'll go out and keep an eye on them," he smiled and moved passed her out the door. "These the ones?" Billy asked returning laden with boxes. "Great hon. Just back in there thanks," she replied motioning to the kitchen. Billy put the boxes on the floor next to the pantry. He turned his head as Maggie entered the room. "I'm going for a swim too. You wanna come Dana?" he hollered towards his sister's room. "No I'm fine," she responded emerging from her and Melissa's bedroom. "I might just hang around here and help Mom," Billy shrugged and left to find his swim trunks. "Rather hang around here with your Mom huh?" Maggie teased. "You can help me stack the cans honey," Maggie said pulling two from the top box. Dana reached into the first box and retrieved a can. "Asparagus? Ewww gross." Maggie smiled taking it from her daughter and placing it in the shelves. "What have you got planned to do this vacation?" "I dunno. I've got that book Aunt Colleen gave me for my birthday, which I still haven't read yet, plus I got another one from the library at school." "You're going to read the summer away then huh?" Maggie smiled. "And swim." "Of course. But what about making some new friends. I bet there's some kids your age around here?" "I've only seen that boy yesterday. He's more Billy's age," she replied, handing over another can. "He seemed sad yesterday, like he was getting in trouble or somethin'. His Dad looked pretty mad." "Why don't you find him?" she suggested. Dana shrugged. "Mom, I'm hungry. Do we have any cookies?" "They're all the way on the bottom Dana," she said, receiving the can. "Why don't you just have an apple?" "Because I want a cookie, that's why," Dana insisted. "You're going to have to wait then, sweety." "But Mom..." "But nothing. They were packed on the bottom. You'll have to wait." Dana pouted. Maggie sighed. "That look may work on your Ahab but not on me. I am immune to all forms of pathetic looks," she grinned, placing more cans into the pantry. Dana tried her hardest not to smile back, and instead pouted, frowned and slumped down into a kitchen chair. "No cookies. Why don't you go for a swim, or take a walk? Go find some wildflowers to lighten this place up a little," Maggie suggested. "They have many wildflowers 'round here?" Dana brightened, jumping up from the chair. Maggie smiled and shrugged. Dana grinned. "I'll find out." ``````````````````` The huntress spied her victim. Innocent, helpless, pure. Defenseless, naively living in a world it knows nothing about. Everything was fine, or so it believed. Suddenly a hand clutched and ripped it brutally, remorselessly from the only home it had ever known. The dandelion was limp, and in need of water but she added it to the collection. Dana meandered through the forest that surrounded the lake, stopping only to pick wildflowers and to be deathly frightened by snakes that on second inspections were actually sticks. The summer was unusually warm for Rhode Island and she could feel the heavy air trapped under the trees. A light breeze was blowing off the lake, she pushed through the long reeds to meet the water and dip her bare feet in. She closed her eyes. Chirps of far off blue jays. Breeze ruffles and sways the bulrushes. Slop of water against her small feet. Calming of the soul. Natural silence, peace. Dana dropped her flowers into the water as her eyes flung open searching for the intruder into her peaceful world. The woods remained silent, the lake rippled and lapped at her feet. A direction now, from the right. Wildflowers forgotten she pushed through the reeds back towards the trees, pushing through the bushes and making a path towards the sound. She climbed on a log and stood to see over the bulrushes. Beyond the reeds, a brown-headed boy sat on a rock at the edge of the water. Dana watched as he searched around for another stone to skip over the water but changed his mind and reached for the box of Oreos that lay next to his rock. The boy slouched as he sat dressed in jeans, a long sleeved green shirt and a blue baseball cap. She looked down at her own T-shirt and shorts and frowned; it was getting pretty hot out. He took another cookie from the box, but paused halfway to his mouth, as if struck by a thought. He stood up turning slightly sideways and raised both arms in the air above his head. His arms bent backwards, right leg raised in the air and his right shoulder turned back. Then his right arm was flung forward, he bent over almost vertical with his left leg out behind him. The cookie in his right hand then made a fast advance to his mouth. It took a moment for Dana to realise what he was doing. Pitching. Practicing his baseball windup. Using an Oreo instead of the baseball that was next to his glove and the cookie box on the ground. As if he was not standing on the edge of the lake at all but on the pitcher's mound in Yankee Stadium in front of thousands. Dana continued out to where he was standing, kicking a few rocks along the way and making a fair noise while navigating in the reeds to give warning of her approach. Fox turned around to face her. Instead of embarrassment and chagrin as she had suspected from the show she had just witnessed, his face was calm and surreal and his cat-like green eyes fixed her with his gaze. "Hi," was all she said, giving a small wave. The boy cocked his head. "Let me guess who you are," his face was tired and dirty but his eyes were alert and playful. "By the looks of you, . . . a first baseman," he tried, in a thick New York accent. "Well, I'm sorry the position's already taken." He dismissed Dana with a wave and continued practicing his pitch. Halfway through the swing he jerked back around. "Hang on man, Why didn't ya say somethin'? I got it all wrong. You're here to trade me off to the Dodgers ain't ya? " Dana looked behind her. "You'll fly me out to LA, butter me up and get me to stay there. No way. Not a chance. You can just take your skinny ass back to California, you know what I'm saying?" His hands went to his hips as his voice rose in mock anger. "I ain't going nowhere, I'm a New York Yankee!" Fox stared intently at his companion, waiting for a response. Disappointed, he rose, gathered his glove, ball, box of Oreos and began walking away from Dana through the reeds without another glance. Perplexed, she called after him. "Where are you going?" "To find someone who _does_ appreciate my masquerade," Fox replied haughtily, without looking back. Dana noticed he sounded hurt but she was positive it was all part of the act. In her own New York accent she responded, "Hey hold on a minute there buddy," she ran up through the reeds roughly grabbing his shoulder, making him wince slightly as he turned to face her. "If you quit your complaining, I'll tell you who I am," Dana continued. She had his attention although his face remained passive and indifferent; unimpressed. "General Manager of the Yankees. I'm here to tell you you're the startin' pitcher for the new season." Fox squinted and frowned, passing judgment on her performance. After a long moment he gave her a lob sided smile and replied, "You don't look like Steinbrennner, to me," "Who?" Dana replied, confused. Fox's half smile grew into a full grin. "Forget it." he chuckled, shaking his head. "Hi, my name's Fox." "I'm Dana," she smiled her eyes shinning. "What's with the big act anyway?" she asked. "Think I was crazy huh?" he smirked, giving her a sideways glance. "Who says I changed my mind?" She shot back, raising an eyebrow. Fox chuckled and slumped down to sit on a nearby moss covered log, patting the seat beside him, for Dana to sit. Dropping his belongings next to him, it was then that Fox's bright green eyes took note of the object towards which Dana's gaze helplessly drifted. He gave her a lopsided smile and the box of cookies. ````````````````` Later that evening.... Scully dinner table "Dana, what's going on? You've been fidgeting all through dinner," lightly scolded Mrs. Scully, giving her daughter an admonishing look. Dana looked up from her meal, "I met that kid from yesterday, Fox. We're gonna do something after dinner," she answered idly pushing unwanted peas around her plate. "Not a kid, a boy. Oooooo Dana," taunted Billy, with a smug look from across the table. "Shut up, barf-face," she retorted, leaning across to intimidate him. "Carrot's got a boyfriend," he jibed waving a fork around in front of her conducting an invisible orchestra. "Say it again and I'll stick that fork down your throat!" she threatened. "Billy, Dana! Apologize both of you," roused Captain Scully, pushing Dana back in her chair while sending Billy a glare. William wondering how dinner with his four kids nowadays, transformed him into the referee for a nightly death match. "Sorry," she said, glaring across the table. "Yeah sorry Dana," answered Billy from behind his mashed potatoes, hoeing into them with all the restraint of a pig at his trough. "He seemed kinda shy yesterday, he's a nice boy?" asked Maggie trying to keep the peace. "He's just a kid," Dana replied to only receive smirks and giggles from all three of her siblings. "What are you guys going to do?" asked Billy, making a kissy face towards Melissa who always the over actor, grinned and returned it with delight, earning them both a stern look from their father. "I dunno, stuff. I'll be back when it gets dark." "Good, Dana and not a moment after," said Mr. Scully. "Well, you've finished your dinner, time to set sail, right? Have a good time." "You said it Ahab," she agreed, getting up from the table. "See ya later." "But Dana! I can't bear to be without you!" called Melissa in a melodramatic voice, while pretending to faint at the table, sending all three remaining young Scullys into squeals of laughter. ```````````````````` Dana trotted along the path, it was bushy and overgrown from little use during the past winter, pushing the offending offshoots out of the way she continued along. The wind blew stray strands of red hair around her face as it bounced around her shoulder with each step. Dana scowled, her thoughts returning to Billy and then made a mental note to be sure to remember this when he comes begging for some candy she'd hidden away after next Halloween. "Not a gob stopper, not a gummy bear, not a stupid granola bar, nothing," she smirked, grinning wickedly. "Well, maybe the granola bar." Looking down the path, she saw a brown head manoeuvring through the bushes about fifteen yards ahead of her. "He shoots! He scores!" it yelled, jumping, hands flailing through the air. "And the crowd goes wild right?" yelled Dana towards the approaching figure bounding up the path. "You said it. You like basketball?" he asked coming to a stop right in front of her. "Yeah. But my Dad and brother like football more and I play with them. Billy's got this really cool football, some type of special one or something. You play football with your Dad?" she asked. "No," he said softly. "But I play baseball with my sister and the kids at home." "Oh, Dad and I usually play football against Billy. My sister Missy's to much of a girl to play and she's-" "Samantha and I were building this fort around the other side of the lake last summer. I'm gonna go see if it's still there. Lets go," he turned and stalked away. ```````````````````` "Where's the tree house?" she asked. "It's a fort. And it's somewhere around here, it's just a bunch of planks nailed together for a floor, in a fork in a big tree," he said, turning around in the clearing looking of into the woods. "Doesn't sound like much of a tree house." "Fort," he insisted, shooting her an annoyed look. "No difference." "Yes, there is. Girls call them tree houses, and boys call them forts. You're a girl, but you can call it a fort anyway," he replied looking around through some bushes. Dana dropped her head from where she was looking up in the trees and gazed over to him. Years of being a tomboy and finally it had paid off, the best complement of her life. Accepted as a girl but without the pots and pans that accompanied it. She was still a girl but finally someone who didn't connect being a girl with dolls, tea sets and worst of all wearing dresses. An equal. A partner. She beamed, "Right a fort." "Hey, I found it," he called out from the other side of the clearing. Dana ran over to the big oak tree that housed the 'fort' in a fork about eight feet from the ground with wood slats nailed into the trunk for a ladder. Fox was halfway up and soon followed by Dana. "If we got some more wood and keep working at it we can finish it," she said, as both were on top of the six by six platform. "I think we have some timber down in our boat house, we can start on it tomorrow." "Cool." "Cool," he agreed, grinning over at her, his brown hair falling down about his forehead. "But you can't tell anyone about our fort okay?" "Why not?" "What's wrong can't you keep a secret or something?" he challenged, giving her a smile and a raised eyebrow. "Better than you can," she retorted, jumping down off the platform as he used the ladder. "So fine it's a secret then right?" "Right." END (2/8) Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 21:40:32 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (3/8) by kristy_t `````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom A Mistake. ````````````````````````````````````````` Next Day Friday 10:15 AM Mulders Summer Home "Mom, Dana and I need some wood. Can we take some of the timber outside the boathouse?" Fox asked, leaning against the living room couch while rolling his head around on his shoulders. "Who's Dana?" "Friend." Teena shrugged. "Not my wood. Ask your father," she replied uninterested, without glancing up from her book where she was sitting in the armchair. After a moment. "Do you know where he is?" She looked up, "Back porch," Teena responded hurriedly, returning to the book. He thought for a moment, chewing his lower lip and then asked, "Do you think he'll let me?" Irritation growing she responded. "On a normal day I'd say probably not. And after following him around a couple days ago I'd say you don't have a snowball's chance in hell..." "But I need the wood!" "Then ask him!!" Fox moved to the back door, hesitating he turned back around and continued to hover close by for a minute. She ignored him, hoping he'd leave her be, but he just stood nearby head on his chest, idly drawing large circles on the cream shag carpeting with his sneaker. Teena slowly put her book down on her lap, and waited for her son to meet her eye. After an intense study of the carpet and his new sneakers Fox met her gaze asking her a silent question. After a long moment, "No." "Please, please?" Fox begged, moving over and grabbing hold of her hand, his face falling. "Mom, please. You know I don't like talking to him..." he pouted. Yanking her hand away she scowled, "You don't need me to." "I do . . . I 'm afraid to," he whined, giving her a sorrowful puppy dog look before screwing up his face. "I need . . . I can't . . . He won't let me." "Fox. I am not going to ask him for you. Go and ask your father for the wood yourself. Stop being such a baby and leave me alone," She said sharply giving him her famous this-discussion-is-over look, before picking up her novel. Fox wandered over to the back door, paused for a moment and then opened it slightly and slipped outside. Bill sat at the pine porch picnic table with his back to Fox, greasing a fishing reel and retying a sinker to his line. Every so often he would spit out a husk and then reach out into a bag of small grey sunflower seeds on his left. Bill either didn't notice him or ignored his son's presence. "Dad?" he asked softly from the doorway. After a moment, Bill slowly put down his fishing gear and turned around to face his son. Fox watched as he spat out a shell and reached back into the bag. Bill frowned disapprovingly but said nothing. Fox stared back and swallowed, but said nothing. He spat out a husk as his eyes narrowed. "You're wasting my time," Bill growled quietly, deathly so. Fox jerked his gaze away from his father to his sneakers, gulped but couldn't bring himself to speak. "What do you want?!" Bill spat, angry now. Fox took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the man at the table. Frightened at the position he had openly walked right into, he spat the words out in a hurry. "Dad, I uh just wanted to know . . . if you say it's all right . . . then can I uh . . . can I . . ." "Leave me alone. I don't have time to listen to you," said Bill turning back to his fishing gear. More insistent Fox asked, "But I want to know if I can use-" Bill glared coldly over at his son, sending Fox into silence and shrinking back inside the house. He looked over at his mother who, without looking up from her novel said, "Wherever you intend on going take Samantha. And don't you even dare think about getting her to ask him." "Where is she?" he asked his voice hoarse, verging on tears. Face down into her book, Teena shrugged in response. ```````````````````` Now more determined than ever to get that wood and start building their fort, Fox strode along the path almost forcibly dragging his sister behind him. "Fox, where are we going?" asked Samantha, trudging along the track after her brother. She looked down as her sneakers sunk into the loosening mud. "To get Dana," Fox told her over his shoulder, as he began making his way through the tall trees and taking large steps over the worst of the muddy sludge. "Who's he?" "No Dana's a girl," he said, absent mindedly running a hand through his thick brown hair. "We're going to keep building that fort from last year, remember?" "No," she replied, pushing through some underbrush, closing her eyes as she pushed the brush away from her face while trying to keep sight of her brother's long sleeved blue shirt as he strided ahead. He turned back and stopped and waiting for her to catch up, "You do so, Sam," he scowled. "You helped me carry all that wood." Samantha's brow creased as she thought, "Oh yeah." "Well, we're going to carry more wood and that's why you're here," he told her over his shoulder, as he ducked under the trunk of a fallen tree. Samantha scrambled under the log, and then smiled sweetly and stretched out her arms for Fox help her up. He chuckled, grabbing her arms and pulling, "Come on, you," he said, and turned back continuing along the path. "Do I have to? I don't want to carry wood," she whined, dusting the dirt off her yellow overalls and then trudging after him. As she stomped along through the mud, her two long dark brown braids, bounced about her head with every step. "Yes," he insisted. "Mom said you had to come with me, you can't go back so you have to carry wood." Sighing, Samantha nodded reluctantly. Looking up at her brother jogging away from her she picked up her pace and murmured under her breath; something about "bossy" and "looking like a stork." ``````````````````` "So, basically we run across, I'll lift the metal sheet, you two grab as much wood as you can from underneath then I'll grab some and we'll be gone," Fox said, gesturing across the yard to the painted white boathouse at the edge of the lake. Dana glanced over to the boathouse and then turned back to Fox and Samantha where they all stood in a circle between the trees at the edge of the backyard. Bent over and hands resting on her overalls that covered her knees, Samantha peered up at her brother. "Does Dad know we're borrowing the wood?" she asked warily, raising and eyebrow, while scuffing the ground with her toe. "No, I tried to ask him, so it his own fault," he insisted. Samantha rolled her eyes and groaned, shaking her head "I think you should tell him." "You would, squealer!" he hissed. "Dad's gone fishing. He isn't going to know. And if you do tell him you'll be in as much trouble as me," he warned, receiving a shrug and a smug smile. Dana shot him a look, Fox shook his head. "He won't miss it." Rubbing her forehead, she sighed and nodded her assent. The three figures left the safe confines of the edge of the forest in a single line. Quietly they snuck across the yard to hide behind an old oak tree. On the look out for the enemy, although no one was sure of who or what it exactly was; they slid down on their bellies and proceeded to wriggle across the vast, manicured lawn to the boathouse; army style. "Dana!" he whined, wiping some grass from his mouth. "Why couldn't we just have run?" he asked, squirming along the yard, "It would've been faster!" "NO!" She hissed glancing back at the brother and sister as they trailed behind, "You have to do it this way. All the army crawl along the ground. No one will see us." "I feel stupid!" he groaned. "You look stupid." Fox turned and glared back at his sister. Eventually reaching the side of the boathouse, they gathered around the large sheet of corrugated iron, Fox pushing it aside with help from Dana. Samantha bent down and grabbed a long plank, held it horizontally in her arms and ran off towards the tree lined edge of the back yard. Dana picked up two of the boards and followed after Samantha. Fox then pulled out two pieces of timber and placed the iron sheet back to its original position. He then ducked inside the boathouse taking a hammer and a rusty old ice cream tin, that was full of nails. Outside again, head down, Fox gathered up the articles into a manageable position. Finally he stood upright. Concentrating on juggling the wood, hammer and nails he didn't notice the footsteps from behind. The voice however, he did hear. "He's right." Fox jumped, dropping everything. His heart clenched in his chest as he spun around to face the intruder. "He's right you know," repeated his mother coldly from not four feet behind him. On sight of her he let out with a whoosh a breath of air he didn't know he'd been holding. Wiping sweat from his forehead he concentrated on her voice as he tried to ease the pounding in his chest. "You father's right, you're a blockhead Fox William Mulder, a fool. What is it exactly that you think you're doing?" she demanded, her steel grey eyes boreing into him. Ignoring her, he narrowed his eyes as he knelt down to collect his things. Samantha squatted at the edge of the forest watching her mother and Fox. She was yelling; that Samantha was sure, then noticed as her brother's stance, he stood tall at his full height just under meeting his mother in the eye. Resting a hand on her shoulder, Dana slumped down beside Samantha, watching the action unfold. "What's going on?" she asked, turning her head to face the small, brown headed girl. "Mom's not happy," Samantha replied, without taking her eyes from her brother. "She's telling him to give back the wood?" "Yeah," Samantha nodded. "But he isn't going to." Dana both eyebrows raised she looked curiously out into the yard and then back at Samantha. "Why not? How do you know?" Samantha pulled her eyes from the scene in front of them to glance over at Dana. "You can tell," Samantha said after a long moment of silence. "Just look at him," she nodded to where Fox stood in the middle of the yard. Looking out Dana noticed his stance; tall, straight and unrelenting. Not the right pose at all for someone that was supposed to be receiving a dressing down from his mother. "He's standing up to her." Samantha nodded, her braids dancing about her head. "He doesn't usually do that. It's easier to agree with her especially when Dad's around." "Smart," Dana agreed, nodding. "Safe," Samantha corrected. They stared out to the figures in the yard. Teena yelling and pointing insistently to the sheet of metal where the timber first lay. Fox holding firmly to the wood, refusing to budge. "Why is he doing that?" wondered Samantha, leaning back off her knees, "It isn't important, just a stupid tree house." "Fort." "Whatever." "Shh . . . I can't hear." "It's for your own good, I'm trying to help you." "No mom, you don't . . ." "I won't let you . . . " "Watch me!" Gathering the timber, nails and hammer, Fox turned his back and marched away from his mother. With a look of disgust, she strode back towards the house slamming the back door with a thud. With his mother back inside and out sight, Fox's shoulders slumped and determined expression soon made its way into a frown. Dana and Samantha looked up at him as he neared, only to meet Fox's grave expression and then he continued passed without stopping, walking back along the path. Leaving Dana in her wake, Samantha jumped up grabbed her wood and ran to catch up to her brother. "What happened?" she asked stepping in front blocking his path. "What did she say? Is she going to tell him?" Fox sighed, looking down to the mud. "No. She said wouldn't do that to me, not this time anyway," he added, running a hand through his hair. "To us. She wouldn't do this to us, Fox," said Samantha, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Fox's eyes narrowed, anger seething from him in waves directed right at his four and a half foot sister. Meeting her hand halfway, he shoved her back and started walking again. "Fox!" she called. "Shut up Samantha!" he screamed, livid. "To us?! What the hell would you know about it?!" END PART (3/8) Date: Fri, 26 Feb 1999 17:29:10 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (4/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom A Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` Monday 11:51 AM 3 days later Dana in her blue one piece swim suit sat on the front steps of their cabin. Coppery hair pulled back into a single pony tail, she silently looked out towards the lake as the sun beat down around her with a great fierceness for only midmorning. Reaching for her towel beside her, she sighed and spread it out, covering her head from the blazing sun. "Hey, honey. Whatcha doing?" asked her father, taking a seat beside her on the steps. Looking up, she shuffled over, opening up room for William to move under the beach towel away from the heat. "Nothin' Ahab." "Just nothing huh?" "Waiting for Fox, he ran home to get into his swim trunks. We're just goin' to walk around to the beach," she replied, her eyes remaining distant; focused on the pair of water-skiers out on the lake. "I'd like it more, if you'd swim here. Where I could see you on the lake," he said, putting an arm around her. "But there's lifeguards, Billy's already down there and I'm a good swimmer." "Well, okay. But don't go out to deep then." She nodded. He followed her gaze over to the edge of the yard, where the forest met the neatly trimmed lawn of the property. Guessing that was the place in which Fox would emerge from, he said. "So you like him huh?" Dana looked up in disgust at her father. She groaned and then shook her head and then moved her gaze back to the water-skiers -- two men from what she could tell, as they zipped up and down along the water. "What?" he asked innocently, taking in her response. "Dad, you're just as bad as the rest of them," she moaned, thinking of Billy and Melissa, lightly punching him in the knee. "Sorry. I'll stop it. Forgive me?" he asked. "Always." "That's my Starbuck," he replied, opening his arms as she moved in for a big hug, wrapping her hands around his neck. "Dad," she said over his shoulder. "Fox's from Massachusetts. Do you think we can move to Massachusetts next time the navy shifts us?" He chuckled, lightly patting her back. "I don't know. We'll see honey." Maggie emerged from the kitchen dusting off her hands. "Hey guys what's going on?" she asked noticing a small figure and another considerably larger huddled under the beach towel on the steps. Pulling the towel from around his shoulders and placing back upon Dana, he turned and grinned at his wife's raised eyebrow. "Nothing. Just sitting, aren't we honey," he said, lightly squeezing Dana's shoulder. "Yeah nothing, just waiting for Fox," Dana added. Taking in Dana's towel and swim suit Maggie said, "Well, if you're going to the beach, for heaven's sake don't forget the sunscreen. We don't want you looking like a beet root for the entire summer." "Already done, I'm completely covered," she answered, stretching her arms out for Maggie to see even though it was all rubbed in. Looking out into the yard, Maggie saw a tall, brown haired, grinning eleven-year-old walking out of the forest and making a beeline to the house, dressed only in dark green speedos with an oversized blue shirt and a beach towel around his neck. "Well," said Maggie. "Does Fox have any cream? I don't want him to get burnt either." "I don't know," she groaned rolling her eyes, then waving as he approached. "You'll have to ask Fox, yourself." "Hey, my ears are burning, but it's not the heat!" Fox said once close to the house. "Hello Mrs. Scully. Hi Captain Scully," he greeted. William smiled hello and Maggie said, "Good Morning Fox. I was just wondering if you had any sunscreen on that's all." "No, I don't," Fox replied walking up the steps on to the porch and taking the bottle from Maggie's hand. Slipping off his shirt, he poured some cream out and began to rub it into his arms. Looking up at Maggie, he noticed a clouded, wary expression pass over her face. Turning his head he spotted the focus of her attention, the purplish yellow mark on the top and back of his right shoulder. Although moving his arm back quickly to his body and grabbing his shirt to quickly pull back over his head, he couldn't hide from her two similar marks just under both sides of his ribs. "So, how's your father today?" William asked politely, oblivious to Maggie's observations. With a solemn expression, his eyes shifted to the floor. He answered quietly, "Fine, I guess." Unnerved by his sudden change of spirit, William faltered. "Ahh uh well, that's good then." "Yes," Fox answered flatly looking up into the man's eyes, pasting on a smile. "I suppose it is." Jumping up off the step, Dana grabbed for his arm. "See you later. Come on, let's go," she said, waving and pulling him out into the yard. "Bye," William called, receiving a wave from each as they raced off. Sitting down on the step beside her husband, Maggie reached taking his hand in hers. After looking out at the water-skiers on the lake for a moment William asked, "What do you think of Fox?" "How do you mean?" she answered curiously, looking up into his face. "Well," he began uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. "It's just that I thought Missy would be the first to have. . . ," he trailed off, his eyes leaving her face and looking back out to the two men on the lake. Maggie's mind raced for a moment and then clicked finally seeing what he was getting at. Smiling she replied, "Bill. She's nine and he's eleven, almost twelve. Completely harmless," she chuckled, squeezing his hand. "He's just a playmate. Dana likes hanging around Bill, but he thinks he's out grown her, so she's with Fox, someone who hasn't hit the 'I better because I'm older' phase yet. The two of them are more interested in each others toys, than each other." "Dana doesn't have that many friends at home," he noted. "Yes, actually I was surprised to see her make friends so fast." "I suppose I can wait a few more years before chasing away the boys from the front door," chuckled William looking over at his wife. Then standing he offered his arm to help her up off the step. "I should hope so," Maggie grinned taking his hand. ``````````````````` Next Day Tuesday 12:49 PM "Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!" Fox mimicked in a fruity imitation of Bullwinkle from a branch high above her in the tree. "But that trick _never_ works!" Came Dana's automatic reply, as she grinned up at him. After almost two full days of hard work, the 'fort' had, as well as the platform, one side nailed together. Wiping sweat from her brow Dana sighed and continued banging nails furiously into a plank, while Fox climbed out on a tree limb, tying to the branch a long piece of rope with a board attached at the bottom for a swing. Head down, she looked out through the coppery strands of hair that danced around her face. Seeing Fox hovering dangerously near the unstable out reaches of the oaks branches, she called out, "Hey, watch it! I'm not carrying you all the way round the lake home if you fall. And make sure you tie that thing properly!" "I got it," he called back through her even thuds of hammering, while heaving the knot tight and then pulling on it to test the strength. Climbing back up onto his feet, he balanced acrobat style, stretching his arms out horizontally to his shoulders and walking precariously heel to toe, back along the branch. Sitting down and pushing the plank and hammer away from her, she patted the seat next to her. Back onto the stable landing Fox did as directed and sat down onto the floor beside her. Even though it was early July, it was hotter than usual for this time of year in Rhode Island. Her T-shirt and shorts stuck to her sweat slicked body as her frizzed, ungodly hair ran wild from the humidity. Even the shade of the giant oak tree was no respite from the heat, if anything the blasted forest canopy was keeping the hot, humid air trapped underneath. Reaching out, Dana pulled her nearby knapsack towards her and retrieved two sandwiches and a bottle of water. Tossing a sandwich towards him she said. "Mom didn't know what you liked, but I think she put peanut butter on yours. That okay?" Surprised, he looked down at the plastic wrapped sandwich lying on his stomach where it landed. "That's fine. You didn't have to ask her to make me anything." "I didn't have to. She already did. Besides I didn't want to have to go back to the cabin for lunch and we can't skip it all together," she replied, unwrapping the plastic and taking a bite. "I thought breakfast was the most important meal of the day, Mom." "Eat your stupid sandwich," she scowled, refusing to look at him. He smirked to himself and looked back down to his belly where the sandwich slowly moved up and down on his green T-shirt with every passing breath. Grey actually, or so it appeared through his eyes. Fox scowled, despite insistent badgering his mother still seemed to come home with either red or green clothing which she knew he hated. On looking into his closet there was only so much grey a person could take. Noticing him observing rather than devouring the sandwich, she swallowed and then chuckled, "I'm pretty sure she made it for you to eat, not to look at." Snapping out of his reverie, Fox snatched up the sandwich, unravelled the plastic wrap and took a enormous bite, stuffing absolutely as much as possible into his mouth. Watching, she rolled her eyes and took a swig from the water bottle. Letting rip an enormous burp she looked over at Fox's wide eyes and then wiping the rim with her hand she passed it over to him. After a long, long time of chewing he swallowed and took a large gulp from the bottle. Releasing a burp he sighed and hung his head in mock embarrassment passing the water back to Dana. Grinning victoriously, she took back the bottle and proceeded to take another large swig and let loose one more extraordinarily large belch. Grinning in spite of himself he shook his head and chuckled at her wide, toothy smile of triumph followed closely by a contented sigh. After taking another bite, Fox moved his sandwich down to the floor. Grabbing the bottom end of his shirt, he slipped his sweat soaked T-shirt over his head. Removing his arms from the sticky, damp material he looked over at her. Shirt halfway down his arms, his head cocked towards her he asked, "You mind?" She thought for a moment. Popping the final bite of her sandwich into her mouth, she washed it down with some more water and then shook her head. "No, I've had worse. My big brother Billy, usually wanders around and lays about the house in just his underpants on days like this. It's a good thing I'm here with you instead," she replied, making a gagging sound. Laughing, he slipped the shirt the rest of the way off and then after a long moment of silence he asked. "Dana, what's your favourite Rocky and Bullwinkle episode?" "Ahhh I like 'em all," she shrugged. "Come on! Which one?!" he pleaded. "My favourite episode is the one where Rocky and Bullwinkle find the 'Upsidasium' mine that flies. It's an anti-gravity metal so they fly it to Washington." "I like the one where they discover and underwater city; Submerbia and a whale called Maybe Dick. And the other one where Boris steals the silent explosive, the Hushaboom formula." "Yeah, and then he hides it in a banana," Fox grinned, stuffing his last bite of the peanut butter sandwich into his mouth. "Uh huh," she agreed, smiling and looking out through the trees. "Tell your Mom thanks. She makes good sandwiches," he said, looking over at her. "I know," she replied, lifting her eyes up to him. Grinning overs to him her smile soon disappeared, replaced by a frown. Abruptly the warmth and playfulness of the afternoon had vanished. Fox felt her eyes burn into his skin. Along his shoulder, collarbone and then suddenly down to below his rib cage. She eyed the red purpley spots suspiciously but remained silent. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them protecting himself from her penetrating study. She tilted her head slightly and then looked up to meet his gaze. Instead of the apology for staring that he expected she said simply, "Turn around." He frowned. "Please, turn around," He shuffled about until his back faced her as she requested. He sat slouched over on the floor, head supported by his elbows resting on his thighs. She sighed softly at her first full view of the mixture of purple yellow, high on his right shoulder. Gaze travelling slowly down his tanned back, her eyes came to rest upon the similar large impression adorning the centre of his lower back. Reaching out she softly touched the darkly colored blemish in the dip of his lower back. Fox winced slightly at her delicate touch, and Dana moved her hand away, but not up to his right shoulder as he expected but instead to the base of his neck, lightly stroking the long scar that rested there. Turning back around to face her slowly, he saw the tears welling up, threatening to overflow her eyes. Her voice softened as she took his hand. "That scar on your neck, the bruise on your back and side, the cut down your thigh," her eyes narrowed turning to steel "I think, that an animal did this. A cruel, weak, thoughtless ogre, maybe?" "No," he answered softly, tears beginning to slowly slide down his face, pulling his hand away. Her eyes narrowing further, unwilling to release her grip on his hand she replied. "Are you sure?" ```````````````````` That afternoon . . . William weighed Maggie with suspicion. She sat on a porch chair looking out onto the lake, peacefully reading a novel on her family holiday to southern Rhode Island. To the average observer, she seemed perfectly calm and collected, enjoying her time away from daily routine and quietly sneaking in a few moments to read, away from her four children. However, unbeknown to her, William watched her from the living room window. He had noticed her fidget, fluster and sigh all day and it was driving him crazy. Just small things that no one else would notice: she continually reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear even though none had fallen out; as she sat, she played with and smoothed out her skirt on her legs; and even as he watched her from the window, she seemed not focused on her book at all but looking out just over the top of it, and he hadn't seen her turn the page for the entire five minutes he had been standing there. Something was worrying her, that he was certain. Ever since yesterday afternoon she'd been withdrawn and keeping to herself but instead of prying, he was waiting till she felt like sharing. Looking out at her form on the porch he sighed, it had been twenty four hours; her time was up and he was getting more and more curious with every passing minute. "Hey," he said, opening the door and joining her outside on the porch. "You feel like sharing? Want to tell me what's going on?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder and pulling up a chair beside her. Closing her book down on her lap she looked up in surprise. "What are you talking about?" "Maggie," he admonished, shaking his head. "I am your husband. I know when something's bothering you." "Bill," she started hesitantly, eyes fixed to her skirt where her hand smoothed some creases around her knee. "Did . . . did you take a good look at Fox the other day before the kids went swimming? Did you notice anything odd?" "No." "Are you sure? You didn't see anything?" she asked stronger, her gaze moving up to greet his. "No, no. I didn't," he replied, shaking his head. "Just try to remember." "I am trying," he responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's evasiveness. "I'm not sure what you're getting at." "Did you notice the marks down his body?" "What marks?" "They were bruises, I saw them hen he took his shirt off to rub in the sun cream. Over his shoulder, around his collarbone. You don't find that odd?" "Well, I don't know," he frowned, thinking. "I didn't see them. It could be something or it could be nothing," he shrugged. "Kids fall and hurt themselves all the time." "He had bruises on his neck, as well as under his ribs. If he fell off something he would not have landed on his head or neck. On his back or his side probably," she reasoned. "Maybe," William shrugged. "But you don't really know. And that doesn't really mean anything." "I don't think he fell off anything. Did you notice his father that first day in the woods?" "How could you not," he snorted. "He was furious to say the least, even though he tried his best to hide it from us." "Well, I think there maybe something more going on here." "Or there maybe nothing." "So your not willing to do anything," she frowned, disappointed. "What are you suggesting that we do? You don't know anything for sure, we're just speculating. There's most likely a simple explanation," William replied softly, reaching out and patting his wife's knee to reassure her. "What if there's not?" she argued, pushing his hand off and crossing her arms, "And we just sit here and allow this to continue even with our suspicions?" "Maggie, just leave it. Leave it for now huh? We don't know anything," he reasoned softly once again. "Bill." "What do you know?" he asked, voice rising. "Not much. Only that a little boy has a few marks down his shoulders, that's it," he insisted. "They were not 'little marks'!" she spat. "But you're right, I don't know much else." "There's not much you can do at this point." "I'm going to see what this is about Bill. I won't let this happen," she replied, rising from her chair and stalking back inside the house, slamming the door with a thud. END PART (4/8) Date: Fri, 26 Feb 1999 17:29:09 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (5/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom A Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` Thursday 2 days later "That one looks like bowl of mashed potatoes! Or maybe a flying saucer." Dana snorted, "Yeah, and I'm Eleanor Roosevelt." "You're kinda short for her don't you think?" he replied, grinning like a cat with a mouthful of canary. Fox squirmed as Dana's icy glare pierced his internal organs. Coming back from the beach, Dana and Fox laid down on the grass in the Mulder's backyard. The heat of the midday sun was unrelenting, sizzling the timid New England plant life, unaccustomed to the intense heat. Quonochontaug, as was all of Rhode Island, was suffering one of the hottest summers on record and in a cruel, final, irony not a breath of air had rolled of the ocean in days. "Fine. What does that one look like to you?" Dana rolled her eyes. "A cloud. To me the big, white thing in the sky resembles nothing but a cloud. Don't suppose it could be that do you?" With a look of annoyance, Fox rolled over onto his side facing away from her. Looking up at the white fluffy clouds overhead, Dana willed them in the direction of the sun to give shade from the rays that were frying her sensitive skin. But without any wind, those clouds weren't going anywhere and she would slowly be cooked by the sun until her skin colour resembled that of a pig roasting on a spit. Sighing, she pushed herself up from the ground, "Come on. Let's find something to do." "What?" he asked, sitting up with his hands leaning back on the grass. "Basketball?" "No hoop. Football?" "Too hot," Rubbing her forehead she suggested, "Baseball?" "Too hot." "No, come on. We'll play over near the trees, it's kinda shady over there," Dana insisted. Stretching as he got to his feet he said. "I'll get the stuff." Bat, ball and a glove in his arms, blue cap adorning his head, Fox trotted back down from the house. Reaching where Dana sat in the shade he dropped the equipment on to the ground and said, "Samantha's coming down. She wants to play too." "Great," Dana nodded and then said, "I'll go home and get my mitt." "Nah, just use mine. I'll bat first," he replied tossing it down to where she sat. Rolling her eyes, she replied. "How nice of you to give up your mitt for me," Dana drawled sarcastically, seeing his generosity for what it really was, manipulation to get his own way. "Now, you have to suffer through a terrible thing like batting. Better you than me." Suppressing a grin and painting on a disappointed face, Fox sighed melodramatically. "It's okay, I don't mind. Somebody has to do it," he finished, with another emphasised sigh, while trying his utmost to fight off the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll bet you are," Dana replied, reaching out and giving Fox a whack with his mitt. Pulling the glove back to her, Dana ran her fingers over the stitching inspecting the glove and said, "Hey, this is nice. It's a good one." "Yeah, my dad got it for me on my birthday a couple of years ago. It's really cool, the best that you can buy. That day went down to New York and saw the Yankees play. It was great," he replied, smiling at the thought. Most of the time Bill was either fairly indifferent towards his son in all respects or gave him attention which Fox would much rather do without. Even though Bill could never be awarded 'Father or the Year' in any respect, there were times especially when Fox was younger when they would play together and go places like a father and son should. "I'll bet." "I had ice cream and he bought me a Yankee baseball hat. It was my best birthday ever. My Dad isn't home much but that day was great," he grinned. "You must really like the Yankees." "Well, yeah . . . I suppose. But I really like this mitt," he replied, taking it back from her and slipping it onto his hand. "I'm going to get buried with it when I die. I'll still have it when I'm 104. I love it." Wistfully, he traced the stitching around the outside fingers of the hardened leather and then suddenly side of removed the glove from his hand and passed it over to Dana. "Here, you can borrow it for a bit and play with your brothers or something." "Uh . . . thanks," she replied, warily as he moved away to pick up the nearby bat and slung it over his shoulder. "All right I'm here. Let's play ball!" shouted Samantha, running towards them. Picking the baseball up from where it rested in the grass, Dana trotted out with Fox's glove to play pitcher. "You're catcher Sam," Fox instructed, pointing to the ground as she joined them. Looking out to Dana he said, "This is heaps better with a third person. Now we have a catcher too, so I don't have to run after all Samantha's high balls," Fox chuckled, swinging the bat around for practice. "They're your stupid curve balls!" Samantha retorted. "They curve right off to the left about a mile from the plate! And I don't see why I have to be catcher!" she grumbled, kneeling down to taking her position behind him. "Because I said butt munch!" "Come on Samantha, it's you and me verses him," Dana called pounding the ball into her mitt. "Let's see what he's got." Taking the lead Samantha stood from here crouched position on the ground, "Oh all right every body move in," she said calling and waving to her imaginary fielders. "Move in it's Fox 'Weenie' Mulder stepping up to the plate, no danger here," she smirked, moving back into position. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lets play," he replied, ignoring the jibe while swinging the wooden bat and stepping up to the patch of dirt which was to act as home. Winding up Dana pitched it hard, just on the outside of the plate, landing straight in Samantha's glove. "Strike ONE!" Samantha cried gleefully, jumping up and tossing the baseball back to Dana. Dropping the bat Fox turned around to face his sister. "NO WAY!" "Way," she smirked back at him. "It was off the plate, any idiot with two eyes and half a brain would have known that! Who made you umpire anyway!?" he demanded. "House rules and you know it. Catcher calls it." Grumbling he picked the bat up again and turned around ready for Dana's next pitch. Swing and a miss. "STRIKE TWO!" "Again," he spat. "Come on Dana give it to him," encouraged Samantha, pounding her fist into her glove. Dana pitched the ball back, and Fox swung and connected with the baseball making a loud crack as it hit the wood of the bat. The ball flung somewhere off between the trees, which would have been around left field, and Dana took off it followed closely by Samantha deserting home plate. "Woohoo!" he cheered, watching the ball sail through the air chased by the two of them. Smiling and laughing even though there was no one nearby to share his glory he took off on a run around a loosely estimated diamond. Reaching the dirt patch of second he looked out and could see two heads still searching through the bushes. As he rounded third Fox looked up towards home, but his fixed on the figure beyond the plate, up beside the house. His father. Fox immediately halted and stood silent looking back over at his father, wondering how long he had been standing, watching them play. Quietly watching at a distance. At first Fox's heart rose as he almost smiled at the thought that possibly, just this one time, his father was taking an interest in him. Not in something he was doing with Samantha which has happened on occasion but only himself. He briefly entertained the fantasy of Bill walking over and offering to play catch with him. Fox could somewhat recall three of four years ago at a picnic that they had tossed the ball for a while. Quickly, Fox disregarded that idea for what it was a _fantasy_ though he still entertained hopes of Bill at least coming over to talk for a bit. But the idea was soon banished as his eyes locked on to Bill's malevolent, steel gray eyes. He coolly stared over at his son and examined him at a distance as if he was the world's greatest oddity but without the interest or curiosity. Instead of completing his home run, Fox stood perfectly still afraid for Bill to see him having fun. No. Afraid that Bill would _punish_ him for having fun. For playing baseball. Leaving his fathers glare, Fox's eyes wandered down his body until noticing the long, thick plank Bill held in his arms. His heart constricted as he gulped for air. Bending over, Fox rested his hands on his knees, while never moving his gaze from the wood in Bill's possession. "Hey, Fox!" called Dana from the edge of the forest still searching for the baseball. Startled, Fox quickly looked over to see Dana waving for him to join them. Turning back towards his father, Fox stood transfixed, watching as Bill's figure moved farther and farther away and into the house through the back door. "Dorkus!" yelled Samantha, as he jumped back around to face her. "Come on. YOU lost the stupid ball. Help us look," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind her. Samantha trotted back over to where the clearing finished and the ball had been swallowed by the start of the forest. Taking one last look over his shoulder back towards the house, Fox could see Bill's shadowed figure looking out at him. In the sweltering midday sun of an exceptionally hot summer, Fox shivered. ```````````````````` Mulder's Summer House Saturday 2 days later With the knock at the door, Teena looked up from her novel in the living room. Not knowing any of the permanent residents from Quonochontaug that well, other than for a nod of recognition or a brief tight smile as they passed each other in the main street, she wondered who it possibly might be. Suspecting that knocking on the door and running away might be a hilariously funny game for a seven or an eleven-year-old she stole a glance over her shoulder only to spot her two children playing a board game quietly on the other side of the room. Fox had been given it last year as a Christmas present from one of Teena's sisters; it was the one with little red and blue plastic pieces, Stratego. After eagerly tearing away and effectively destroying the colourful wrapping paper, Fox had looked up to thank his Aunt for the intended Christmas gift. Looking over to his scowling father and to the corner of their living room, where Teena had tried to put up a tree-- much to Bill's disdain and eventual destruction-- by the expression on his face, Fox was decidedly unsure whether to wish her a Merry Christmas or a Happy Hanukkah. Closing her novel she walked over to the door only to see a woman with shoulder-length dark hair in a very bright but not overly garish flower patterned sun dress. Opening the screen door Teena stepped out onto the porch. "Can I help you?" "Hello, ahh . . . Mrs. Mulder?" She nodded in response. "My name is Margaret." On the walk over, Maggie had assumed the best of the previously unknown Mrs. Mulder, hoping that she was unaware as to what was happening to her child. Monumental and incomprehensible ignorance and or stupidity on her part as a mother and as terrible as breaking her suspicions of Fox's father to Mrs. Mulder might be, it was a much more relieving and inviting possibility than the alternative. That being which she knows perfectly well what was going on. And either couldn't or wouldn't stop it. Maggie appraised the woman, looking her up down. From her no nonsense blouse and grey skirt, tightly pulled back dark hair and the intensity of her ash grey eyes, Maggie concluded that she was definitely not ignorant or stupid. "Your son Fox, has been playing a lot with my daughter," continued Maggie. "Yes," she nodded, "The little redhead . . . Diana." "Dana." "Yes, yes. Dana," she replied hurriedly, unappreciative of the correction. "Is there something wrong, has Fox been leading her and getting them both up to mischief or something Mrs..." "Scully. No no, not at all. They haven't been getting into any trouble." "Then what can I do for you?" Teena asked impatiently. Maggie drew her gaze from Mrs. Mulder and thought for a moment, her plan certainly seemed a lot easier on the walk over to the Mulder's house. Just sit down and have a nice little chat, slyly and subtly mention your suspicion and go from there. It seemed like an awfully good idea at the time, but really how was she going to tell a woman she'd just met, who obviously had no intention of small talk, that she believed her husband was abusing her son? "Well. . . um . . . Mrs." "Teena," she replied coldly. "I'm Maggie," she supplied, offering her hand. With a brief look of dismay, Teena accepted and shook it. "Teena," Maggie started once again. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a minute," she asked. "Fine," Teena replied, nodding leaning up against the door frame. Waiting for a moment and then realising she was not going to be invited inside, Maggie began. "Your son Fox really is a sweet little boy, friendly and very bright." "Yes," Teena replied tight lipped. Apparently like Maggie had suspected, small talk and politeness in general were not her strong suit. Sensing that it could very well soon turn into a one-way conversation, Maggie dove right in to the reason she had come. Well, almost. "Fox was telling me the other day that he fell of the jetty," she fibbed, "Wasn't too much damage was it?" Teena thought for a moment and then hurriedly answered, "No. Just fell and hit himself on the way down." "Must of been a nasty fall, I saw his shoulder the other day. Looked quite sore." "He tripped backwards, hit his shoulder and then fell down into the water," Teena lied, flawlessly, remorselessly. "Is that what you came here to talk about?" Until this point Maggie had smiled warmly throughout the conversation, however her own cheerfulness did nothing to relieve the uneasiness in her stomach. Nor did Teena's indifferent nature quell her fears and doubts on approaching the impending subject. The urge to retreat, not to become involved and to forget about a certain little boy's problem was overwhelming. She would look pretty stupid coming here for no reason but she'd never see this woman again and . . . She sighed inwardly, pushing the thoughts away. Swallowing she looked over into the other woman's eyes. "Mrs. Mulder, you can tell me, I know. You don't have to hide this," she said confidently. Teena stared blankly back at her. "What your husband is doing is wrong," Maggie pressed, reaching out to put her hand over the other woman's, looking up into her vacant expression. The implication and undertone from the last few minutes conversation finally dawning on her, she wrenched her hand away from Maggie's. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she denied, eyes flashing. "I think you do. It's obvious to me what's going on here, what he is doing to your son." "Fox? There is nothing wrong with Fox," she insisted. "He's hurting him," Maggie tried bluntly, forcefully. Eyes widening and suddenly narrowing she spat, "How dare you! Leave us alone." "Listen, you have-" "No. YOU listen," Teena broke in savagely, "I will not stand here and listen to you insult my husband and my child," her voice calming loosing its venom she said, "There is nothing . . . nothing going on. That's ridiculous." "But you know that it's true. How can you watch your son get hurt?" Maggie asked, unconvinced, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. Maggie watched her expression, looking for denial or, more importantly, confirmation to her claim. Finding neither, her face completely blank, Maggie felt her stomach twist at the possibility she might be completely off base and out of line. Feeling the urge to retreat heighten once again, Maggie was stunned as Teena visibly softened from her hard-as-nails, no-shit-from-nobody facade into a much smaller, fragile and vulnerable version of the detached person that stood before her moments ago. Revealing a young woman trapped, scared and appearing far older than her years. "It's all right to tell me," Maggie said softly, sensing Teena's need to let out the truth but understanding her instinctive duty to stand by and protect her family. Going out on a limb she reached out to take Teena's hand or at least pat her on the shoulder, as a connection or some form of mother-to-mother bond. Momentarily accepting and then suddenly jerking away from her touch, Teena's eyes hardened retreating back to their cold grey steel as her defenses were thrown back up, and door slammed in Maggie's face. Hard. END PART (5/8) Date: Fri, 26 Feb 1999 17:29:10 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (6/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom A Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` The Fort Wednesday 4 days later "You know," Dana yawned, "I was thinking," Quickly, before he could slide in a wise crack on the rate and/or capacity of her ability to think she continued, "What I was thinking, was when we get this thing finished. I think we should sleep out here or something." "Camp out?" Fox asked looking up at her as he continued hammering away, into some wood. "Yeah, if you want," Dana replied, nodding her head. "Though, I don't think we'll ever get this tree house finished." "Fort." Rolling her eyes she replied, "Whatever." "We'll get it finished," he affirmed, stopping his work and looking over at her. "It's just going to take awhile, but I'm not sure what we are going to do when we run out of wood. My father never had all that many planks to begin with, and after we took some more the other day, I'm not sure how much is left." "We will finish it if you quit talking and start working for once," she grinned over at him. Pretending to be offended he gasped, pasting on an insulted look. Noticing several nails embedded almost sideways into the wood instead of straight, she said "You can't nail very well," and reached to take the hammer from his hands. Wordlessly, he compiled, stood up and moved away, more than happy to let her take over. Stretching his arms high above his head, Fox yawned and then said, "What should I do?" "There's a book in my knapsack. Read me something from that?" "Out loud?" he asked raising his eyebrows. She nodded. Going to her bag he began rifling through it. After a thorough snoop and inspection of the contents he eventually pulled out the big, royal blue hard cover book, full of short stories. Flipping through the first pages he stopped and read the title out loud. "The Blue Fairy Book." Cringing, he looked over at her, "I don't wanna read this. It sounds like something my sister has, all girlie and-" "It's not. I'm up to page 87. Hiroshiko the Fearless," she replied, without looking up from her hammering. Flipping through he stopped at the page, "Hiroshiko the Fearless," he repeated, reading the title that was in bold lettering. "Read," she ordered, and began hammering into the wood. "I can't," he stated simply, snapping the book closed with a thud. "YOU CAN'T READ?!" she shouted, staring up at him in disbelief. "Why can't you read? Your almost twelve!" she exclaimed, eyes going wide as saucers. "Of course I can read!" he growled down at her, "I can't read it without my glasses." "Oh." "They're corrective lenses. The eye doctor guy keeps telling me I'll grow out of 'em and I won't need them anymore. But he's been saying that for ages." "Four eyes," she chuckled. "Metal mouth." he shot back, causing Dana to quickly close her mouth, hiding her braces from his view. Smirking and only to prove his point he reopened the book and turned around and held it up into direct sunlight, away from the shade of the tree. "You don't-" "Hiroshiko the Fearless," he insisted, squinting, repeating the title once again. "Read. It sounds scary." Silence. "Sounds like my father." ```````````````````` "So, Hiroshiko returned home to his cave high in the ... uhh I can't make it out ... high in the ... something ... mountains of Apeida. The people of Apeida never forgot his bravery and honour in slaying the .... uhh oh, invincible Koshiko and so was known from then on as 'Hiroshiko The Fearless.' The end." Fox finished slamming the book closed with the thud. "You like? Happy now?" Dana shrugged. "Yeah, s'pose." Looking down at her still hammering away he asked, concerned, "Tired? You want me to take over?" "I'm fine," Dana responded automatically. "I'll bet you are," he smirked, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair, causing it to spike up in all directions. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, eyes blazing, glaring up at him. "You've been at it for ages, your arm's probably about to fall off. But hey, if you say you're fine then I guess you're fine," he grinned, before sitting down beside her and stretching his long awkward legs out in front of him. "Are you going to the Crackerjack Carnival?" Fox asked squirming around and then finally deciding to cross his legs. "The what?" She asked frowning, stopping her hammering to look up at him. "It's just a carnival with a stupid name," he explained, "It's usually pretty cool with all the rides and stuff, we go every year." "I think Mom mentioned something about that the other night, it's just up in Charlestown Beach right?" "Yep, we're going on Saturday," Fox nodded. "Same. Billy's been looking forward to it. He says he's going go on all the scary rides and eat cotton candy till he bursts," she pounded the nail's tip flush against the wood and then picked up a new nail from the nearby bucket. "I'd believe that," Fox replied grinning over at her. "A lot of people think that the Viper, that's the name of roller coaster, is the scariest ride they have at the carnival." "Mmhhh," Dana responded, only half interested concentrating on whacking the nails straight into the wood. "Yeah but it's not you know. I've been on everything, even the really boring rides, at least twice, and I think the haunted house is the best. It's the scariest by far," said Fox nodding in agreement with himself before continuing. "Samantha doesn't think so, because, you know, after you've been through it once than it's not scary anymore. But she hasn't even been on the Viper yet, because she's been too short and they have that sign with the height thing on it when you line up. You know?" "Mmmhh." She nodded, brushing her humidity-soaked hair away from her sticky neck and wiping away the fine sheen of sweat that glazed her forehead. "Yeah, they have that height thing and Sam reckons that she'll be tall enough to ride it this year. I dunno if she will though 'cause last year she was a couple inches short of the cardboard cut-out figure guy that holds out his arm for how tall you have to be and I don't know how many inches you grow in a year. I've always been tall enough to ride the Viper, and ever since last summer I've been getting taller and taller. Mom says that I'll get taller than Dad someday. I dunno if I will 'cos you know he's pretty tall and . . ." Tired and uninterested, Dana tuned out of Fox's long-winded tangent. Because of the heat she had trouble concentrating on anything and certainly didn't have the energy or the patience to pretend to listen to Fox's pointless chatter. Dana snuck a look up at him and could see he was talking fast and rather animatedly, gesturing with his hands. Suddenly, he stopped and looked down at her, expecting an answer. With little choice but to nod and agree with whatever he was saying, Dana did so only to receive a frown and a confused look. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth to admit she hadn't really been listening, when Fox all of a sudden satisfied with her response once again began jabbering away. Wiping the sweat of her forehead, Dana shifted uncomfortably as her T-shirt clung to her back as a second skin. Pulling her damp hair away from her neck and tying it back with a rubber band, she took another nail from the bucket, held it with her nimble fingers to the wood and began to lightly tap away. Dana felt the headache that had been forming for the last half hour, pound with every word of Fox's continual prattling on. After a moment she looked up to see Fox waving his hands around as he spoke and grinning broadly at the joke she assumed he was telling her. She scowled, growing increasingly annoyed at how the overpowering heat that was wrenching out all her strength, seemed to have no effect on him at all. If anything he seemed to draw more energy from the heat, and Dana watched as he bounced around and fidgeted, without even breaking into a light sweat. He sat down beside her she noticed as he spoke some other part of his body continually moved. His hands twisted about in his lap as he happily chatted away, his head would bounce around on his shoulders as he gestured slightly with his hands. His feet would move side to side and then suddenly he would become uncomfortable with his current position and begin squirming around, having to rearrange his awkward, long legs. With a sigh, Dana realised that the only sound close by except for the continual babble of birds high above was the even thump of her hammer pounding into the nail; he had finally shut up. Thank God. Her anger blazing when her brief moment of peace and tranquillity was shattered as Fox began speaking once again. Irritated at his mindless, pointless, incessant chatter, Dana jumped up and flung the hammer down to the ground with a thud. "Why are we building this thing?" she demanded, cutting him off mid sentence. Startled, he looked over at her, "Huh?" "Why are we doing this Fox? What are we doing?" She asked rubbing her forehead, "I mean we're up here working our butts off, we stole wood and stuff from your Dad, I don't know how to build anything and from what I've seen so far, you don't either." "We're doing all right working together, aren't we?" "We're on our own, no one to help us and this whole thing seems kind of silly. And really," she said looking around at the scattered ruins and the sorry state of the nowhere near finished 'fort.' "What are we going to do with this 'fort?'" "I thought you wanted to be here with me, to work on this together. If you don't want to anymore, go. Go. Go, play with your sister. Go find some new friends while you still can, while there's still some summer left." She sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead, "No, if we give up now, then this thing," she said, throwing her arms gesturing to the fort, "Will just sit here, unfinished. I don't want that to happen, I want to get this done so everyone can see what a great job we did. When I can see that the eight long years of hard work-" "Weeks." "Huh?" she asked, not appreciative of the interruption. "The eight long _weeks_ of hard work," he corrected. "What did I say?" "Years. You said, eight years," he replied quietly. "Well, when I can see that our eight long weeks of hard work has been worth it all the way," she smiled wistfully. ```````````````````` A few minutes later . . . "I'm afraid." "What?" Dana asked, looking over at him, confused. "Before," said Fox, swallowing. "Before, you asked me why we're building this fort. You wanted to know why, and I never got to tell you." "Oh." "I want to build this fort because I'm afraid." "Of what?" she asked, frowning, and quickly looking around them. "Back home on the Vineyard, there's this big park." he started, his head down on his chest, almost speaking into his lap. "Well, actually it's a park and a cemetery. It has a cemetery high on the hillside, but most of the park is just trees and fields where you can have a picnic, play baseball or run around. It's a mile or so from our house in Chilmark but it's a good place to go. Anyway this park is huge and one day a couple years ago I was wandering around through the back fields by myself and I wandered up into the small cemetery." Fox shifted, stretching his long awkward legs out before him as he leaned back on his hands. Willing herself to silence, Dana moped her brow and waited for him to continue. "It's really old, no one's been buried there since like 1860 or something. It reminds me of a stone forest, the way all the different crosses and memorials spurt up from the ground. Some are crooked, some are straight but they are all old and crumbling. They're angels with wings made of stone and a lady-like nun who looks really peaceful." "Mary?" Dana asked. "I wouldn't know," Fox replied, running a hand through his unruly dark brown hair. "It backs on to a pine forest, I was walking around up there one day and through the trees I could see this shed. But when I got closer it wasn't a shed at all it was a an old, boarded-up greenhouse," he said, his brow creasing as he remembered. "What was inside?" "I'm gettin' to it." "It hadn't been used as a greenhouse for years and inside was dusty, but the really cool thing was it didn't have a ceiling made of wood but had big sheets of glass you could look right out to the sky through. Sometimes I like going there when nobody's around. At night you can lie right down on the floor and look up through the glass, through the trees and see the stars. One night I took a flashlight and a book of constellations. I can point them all out now," Fox said a smile breaking through his solemn expression. "It's quiet, peaceful." Dana nodded, letting his words sink in. Pushing her auburn strands sweat-soaked hair behind her ears she looked back over at him. Noticing his wistful, sorrowful expression, Dana felt the puzzle pieces of the greenhouse and fort, lock into place. "But that's not why you go there is it?" she asked, looking over, trying to meet his eye. "No," he responded quietly, looking at the ground unable to meet her gaze. "You're afraid," Dana realised, nodding to herself thinking it through. "So you run." "You don't understand," Fox replied quietly. "You couldn't." "You need some place to go to get away when your at home. And you need some place now too, just in case," she declared, willing him to meet her gaze. "That's why you made me promise to keep the fort a secret before." Suddenly, Fox jerked his head up to face her, his eyes wide with fear. "You still can't tell anyone," he pleaded. "If something happens, then he'll know where to find me. You have to promise not to tell," he begged, truly frightened. "I won't," Dana responded empathetically, taking his hand in hers. "I promise," she said and reached out to envelope him in a hug. END PART (6/8) Date: Sun, 28 Feb 1999 15:14:33 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (7a/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom a Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` Saturday Afternoon 5:47 PM 3 days later All six Scully's found their way into their big family station wagon for the short trip up to Charlestown Beach. After the initial squabble between the three older siblings over who sat where in the back seat, followed by the almost traditional empty threat from their father of turning the car around and going home if things didn't settle down, an eerie silence fell in the wagon. They made their way along the tree-lined highway to the small town where the travelling summer carnival was being held that weekend. With the old New England store fronts and it's three block long downtown district, it didn't take much effort to find the big park right next to the sea where the carnival was being held. Looking out over the clear Atlantic, Maggie noted with some dismay the dark, threatening clouds slowly rolling in from the ocean. Large, menacing thunderclouds foretelling of torrential rain, a long awaited respite from the overpowering heat, smothering New England. Clambering out of the car the Scully's raced over to the admission gates. A bright neon sign over the turnstile proudly declared that as soon as you step through the gate to the Crackerjack Carnival, 'the fun begins'. William soon learnt as he fished through his wallet to pay for the six tickets, that apparently, 'fun' costs a lot more than it used to. Finally inside, with a much lighter wallet, William glanced down to see his children's eyes light up upon seeing the brightly lit rides an games. Except the youngest, Charlie who was scowling. William assumed that he could already sense what was coming. "Okay you three," said William grabbing Billy, Melissa and Dana's attention. "You can go off but stick together and don't lose each other. I'd rather not leave here minus a child." They nodded and he looked down to Charlie's grumpy face. "Sorry, you'll have to stay with us kiddo," William apologised. " I don't want you to get lost in this crowd, but we can go where ever you want." Grabbing her children before they could run off, Maggie handed out a couple dollars to Billy, Melissa and Dana each for rides and to play a few carnival games. "Don't split up," she warned. "And we'll meet you back right here in an hour, after that we can get some hot dogs, or something for dinner," she instructed handing Dana her second dollar. "There's a big storm coming in a few hours and well have to be home before it arrives." "All right Mom." The three answered in unison. "Billy!" Maggie said, grabbing her oldest son's arm, before he could run off. "What did I say? How long till we meet back here?" "An hour, Mom!" he replied, looking over at the brightly lit rides, itching to get away. "Good," Maggie responded, releasing Billy's arm. As William, Maggie and Charlie watched the three elder kids disappear in to the crowd, William put an arm around his wife's shoulder and asked, "How long do you think they'll stay together, before running off?" "I'd give it five minutes, tops," Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. "Dad," whined Charlie, tugging on William's arm. "Let's go on some rides now," he insisted. "All right little fella," William replied smiling down at his youngest. "Where do you want to go? We've got the clowns, the mirror house, plus there's games and . . ." Maggie scanned the crowd looking at the families and couples, that wandered about aimlessly. In the rectangular park, it appeared that the rides and carnival games were at the northern end while down to the south was the outrageously priced food and drink stalls and the circus ring where she could see three clowns and a magician performing. Just as she was turning back to her husband, through the hordes of people Maggie spotted, a tallish woman standing and watching a small, brown haired girl throw the ring toss. "Mrs. Mulder!?" Maggie called, leaving William and her son and walking up behind the other woman. On seeing Maggie's approach, Teena frowned and cursed under her breath. Holding up her hands in front of her, warning Maggie away, she snarled. "I have nothing to say to you." "Come now, Mrs. Mulder," she replied, ignoring Teena's warning and walking right up to her. "Is your whole family here tonight?" Maggie asked pleasantly. Coming up and taking her mother's hand, Samantha nodded answering for Teena, "Fox, just left us. He's gone off with Dana. I'm Samantha," she replied brightly, introducing herself. "Hi honey," Maggie replied, friendly reaching out to pat Samantha on the side of her head. After a moment, "Mrs. Mulder, listen," Maggie said, offering her a warm smile. "Let's talk." "Then what?" Teena demanded. Maggie looked puzzled. "After I don't tell you something you think you already know, then what?" she demanded again, eyes narrowing. Maggie thought for a moment. "Well, then maybe I'll tell you something you don't know and you'll tell me something else and then we'll end up having a conversation," she answered hopefully. "I doubt it," Teena replied and stalked off, dragging Samantha along behind her. ```````````````````` Maggie rejoined her husband and son and the three spent their time wandering about the park, treating Charlie to many of the carnival rides. Although he sulked and moped in disappointment of not being allowed to explore with his elder siblings, Maggie suspected that Charlie was secretly enjoying having the sole attention of both his parents. Usually sharing them with three others, and being the youngest child as well, he was often unable to gain their attention for more than a few minutes. After looking at all the carnival games that were no doubt fixed and virtually impossible to win, Maggie and Charlie sat down on a bench for a well deserved break. Charlie's sulking and disappointment soon vanished when he spotted his father walking towards him with a large ice double scoop chocolate ice cream cone just for him. "I saw Dana over there running past with Fox," William said approaching the bench and handing the cone to Charlie who took it greedily. "She yelled something about him dragging her off to the haunted house as they went by," he chuckled, handing Maggie her coffee before sitting down next to her on the bench. "Thanks," Maggie replied, taking the styrofoam cup. "William, did you see the storm out there?" she asked after a moment, pointing out towards the large dark clouds slowly building up over the ocean. "Looks pretty rough." "Ahrr, no mi lady. That there is nothin', compared to what we get out on 'd open sea," William answered in his best Long John Silver impression, only to receive a shake of the head and a groan from his wife. Shrugging, he agreed. "Yeah, I noticed when we first arrived, but I don't think it'll hit till later tonight. It seems to far out to sea to bother us just yet." Maggie nodded, taking her first sip of her dark coffee and then screwing her face up at its bitter taste. After a moment William said seriously, "When we passed Mrs. Mulder down near the admission gates earlier, I couldn't hear what she said but it was pretty obvious she didn't want to talk or have anything to do with you." "I guess you could say she's not really one for idle chat," Maggie replied, taking a second sip of her brown, murky coffee. William nodded in a agreement and then added, "Especially not after making your wild accusations the other day." "Excuse me?" she asked, turning sideways to face him fully. "Well," he started, unsure of what to say. "It's just that I don't think barging into the house of a woman you've never met before and telling her your suspicions was possibly the best way to go about things. Plus, I don't think it anything for us to get involved in. It's none of- " "What is that supposed to mean?" Maggie interjected. "It could be serious. You're not prepared to do anything?" "Maggie, we don't know that there is anything going on. The simplest answer is usually the correct one. The marks you saw were made by him just falling or something." "I saw the bruises on that child, Bill, you don't get them by falling over!" Insisted Maggie standing up from the bench, moving over to the nearby trash bin to throw away her foul tasting coffee. "I'm not making-" "He's a eleven-year-old boy," William argued, advancing after her, leaving Charlie to slurp happily away at his cone on the bench. "Just a kid. They fall off bikes and out of trees. They play rough sports and-" "They fall victim to abusive parents. You were there in the woods that day, you saw it yourself! Fox was absolutely terrified of the man. He was afraid of his own father," Maggie finished, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then why didn't the wife tell you anything when you went poking your nose around the other day?" "Mrs. Mulder, she was just about to tell me the truth. I could see she wanted to, she needed to tell someone, just that-" "But what?" William demanded, unable to keep the sarcasm from his reply. "She kicked you out of her house before she could conveniently open up to you?" "No! Bill--" "Maggie," he interrupted, "you should step back and take a good look at what's going on, you're seeing something that isn't there. You're totally convinced that this man is beating up his son. Okay, so the kid had a few bruises on him, granted. But the rest is blue sky conjecture. I don't understand how you can be so positively certain without anything else to back it up. You're ready to pass judgment on a man, a family when you don't know them, you have no proof, no clue on their circumstances and no idea. Just speculation!" William exclaimed. "Circumstances? You think whether you can hurt a child or not depends on the surrounding circumstances?!" Maggie demanded. Noticing that people were starting to stare at their raised voices, William hissed back at his wife, "Of course not! You're missing my point. I completely agree that if that man is hurting his child than something must be done to stop it. You should never ever hurt a child, but my problem is we don't know that he _is_ hurting Fox, not for sure. You're just guessing!" "I am not guessing. I know it. I feel it right here," she insisted laying her palm over her heart. At William's look of disgust, Maggie continued. "I'm not just imagining it, you can see it. The pain and fear just pours out of him clear as day. That little boy is hurting. I know it!" William glared down at his wife's set jaw and determined glare. Searching her eyes he realised that she was set and was not going to let go of this, not without a fight. She usually insisted on hearing both sides of a problem, taking the good and the bad and finally coming to a rational and sensible decision. Feeling unnerved by her fierce determination, William couldn't think of another time when he had seen Maggie this sure of herself, this certain. "No, Maggie," he said after a moment finally pulling himself from her penetrating gaze. "Why?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Why is so hard to believe that this is happening? When you were getting Charlie's ice cream, I saw Bill Mulder over by the hot dog stand. He couldn't be to far away, maybe you could go and talk to him, father-to-father. See what-" "No! Absolutely not!" William said dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. "I won't be involved and I think you're looking for something that isn't there. No evidence so it's case closed. It's none of our business!" he argued, only to be pinned down by his wife's fearsome glare. "Maggie, if you honestly believe that something is going on, then I believe you. But it is not our place to be looking into this. They're are people who come and investigate these claims; it's their job. Until then, I mean-" "No, it'd take weeks for the government to get off its backside and look into it. Bill, I know you are uncertain but just think about it. It all fits! The way Fox and his father were acting in the forest, Mrs. Mulder's reaction to my suspicions the other day, the quiet and solemn manner Fox talks about his father and the bruises down his back! It's obvious Bill, it's all there!" Maggie insisted. After a long moment, William replied, "I'm sorry, Maggie, I don't see it." "You don't see it?" Maggie spat, enraged. "No Bill, you don't _want_ to see it! You don't want to get involved," she shot back. "You're right, I don't believe it. And really don't think that this is our business," he protested. "Not our business?!" Maggie growled, eyes flashing. "I'll make it my business." ```````````````````` "Hello, I'm Maggie Scully," she said cheerfully, pasting on a smile. Bill Mulder looked the small woman up and down, trying to place her. Finally recalling her from the day in the forest, he replied, "Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?" he asked, bored, uninterested. "Nothing, nothing," answered Maggie, shaking her head. "Just thought we'd have a chat. I've met your son, he's a darling little boy. Sweet really, smart too from what I could tell. He's a real little gentleman." As the conversation turned to Fox, Bill narrowed his eyes slightly. "I know," Bill replied tightly. "Do you?" Maggie said sharply, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze. "Excuse me?" he said frowning, annoyed at her tone. "Mr. Mulder," Maggie replied curtly, looking up at Bill with distaste. "I am not blind, it is quite obvious to me what is going on." "Really?" he asked, amused unaware of her implication. "You're hurting him. Aren't you?" Maggie accused, eyes blazing. "You're beating your only son." Pokerfaced, Bill stared back at her, "Fox told you this?" he asked, taken back but not letting it show. "He's a liar. And you're only furthering his already overactive imagination." "I don't need Fox to tell me what you're doing to him. You've got that little boy scared to death. Only a _weak_ man takes his anger out on someone smaller, someone who they know won't put up a fight," she spat. Eyes darkening he growled, "Mrs. Scully I'm not sure where you get your ideas, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your over active imagination to yourself, not involving myself and my son." "You're not fooling me. What does it take for a grown man to hit his child?" Maggie demanded. "A bright, happy, innocent little boy who's deathly afraid of his own father. What kind of childhood is that?" "You stand here making wild accusations of me while you know nothing of me and my family! Where do you get off?" Bill snarled, enraged. Eyes locked, it was Bill who finally glanced away. "You're a liar. A weak monster who's got his only son terrified for his life," Maggie spat. "Maybe, you should quit insulting my intelligence and give me the truth." Bill cursed and growled under his breath. Pushing past Maggie he disappeared into the crowd. ```````````````````` An hour later . . . An announcement came over the loudspeakers set up around the park. The carnival, which usually ran late into the night was closing early due to the approaching storm. Dana and her family having left a few minutes earlier leaving Fox to wander around by himself. Spotting his mother nearby, he figured it was probably a good time to rejoin his family. "Mom," Fox called, coming up from behind her, pulling her elbow to get her attention. "I'm ready to go home now. I don't feel that good, I think I ate to much cotton candy." "Fox?" she turned around surprised. "What are you still doing here? Hasn't your father left yet?" "Huh?" "Fox, I told you this morning." Teena frowned annoyed at having to repeat herself. "Samantha and I are going around to the Coleman's house in Shelter Harbor. Mrs. Coleman is inviting me for coffee and your sister is going over to play with Annie. We'll be around two hours and we'll be home later this evening." Looking up at the dark clouds looming overhead and said, "I think we still have a couple of hours before this storm hits." "Where's Dad?" "He went home about 20 minutes ago in the car." "Why didn't he wait for me?" Fox wondered, frowning. She shrugged. "How am I going to get home?" he asked, looking up at his mother. She shrugged again. "You'll have to walk," Teena suggested. "It's only a few miles, it shouldn't take you that long." "But . . . but, I don't feel that good and--" "I can't take you home, I don't have a car. We're being driven to the Coleman's." "Mom . . ." he whined. "What?" she demanded, growing annoyed. "Just walk back. Your father is already there, it isn't like nobody's home." She turned and hurried away, leaving her only son alone and deserted, staring after her retreating form. ```````````````````` Quonochontaug Three miles later, Fox had just turned down into the short dirt road that reached his house. It had yet to start raining, although the dark clouds looked like they could open up at any minute. The wind was growing stronger and began to lash his short brown hair about his head. About 200 yards away from his house, Fox watched as what he knew was a government sedan pull out from their driveway and head back along the road towards him. Standing still and waiting for it to speed by, Fox could see two men in the front seat. He recognised them knowing that he'd seen them come by the house on the Vineyard before, but it was summer now and his father was supposed to be on vacation. Seeing his Dad's sedan in the driveway, Fox thought it best if he quickly slipped into his room and stayed well away from his father. He could go in, shut the door and pull out his Spiderman comics. Bill would never even have to know he was there. Reaching the house, Fox went around to the back door to silently sneak in unnoticed. The house was quiet as he entered. Cold, deathly quiet. It made him shiver. And then he smelt it. Seeping through the heavy air, like a serpent through a thick swamp. Fox gulped and could almost feel the noose tighten around his neck as strongly as he could see it. He sniffed the air again. No mistake. Scotch. This was not good, not good at all. No one else was around and his mother wouldn't be home for ages. He swallowed, this could be bad. He silently scrambled back to the door and carefully, trying not the rattle the glass he slipped out to the backyard porch. Prepared to escape back into the forest until his mother arrived home, Fox turned around and stepped right into his father's chest. "Ohhh...," Fox moaned looking up at Bill, while his legs slowly gave out from beneath him and he sank slowly down onto the floor. Grabbing his son by the elbow, Bill roughly pulled him to his feet. Gripping the collar of Fox's shirt and leaning in close, his voice took on almost a singsong quality. "Fox, someone spoke to me about you today. Do you know who it was?" he demanded, jabbing Fox in the sternum with the index finger of his free hand, as a huge clap of thunder shook the air. The storm was getting close. "The men from work that were here?" Fox squeaked, turning his nose up at Bill's alcohol smelling breath. "No, stupid! Think harder. You've been talking to someone," Bill growled, releasing Fox from his grip, letting him fall to the ground. "Telling her things she shouldn't know," he snarled grabbing, Fox's arm and dragging him into the kitchen. "No Dad. . . " Fox cried, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. "I didn't. I don't know what you're talking about." "DON'T YOU LIE TO ME BOY!" Bill thundered, sweeping his arm across the kitchen table knocking plates to shatter on the floor. "You told her didn't you! You're stupid, boy. You think I wouldn't find out?!" "I didn't," Fox replied meekly. "You did!" Bill spat. "You told her, you worthless piece of shit! What do you think she would do? She'd help you? She doesn't care about you Fox, nobody cares about you! Did you really think she'd give a fuck about a snivelling little shit like you?!" he growled as another clap of thunder reverberated through the air, followed by a huge flash. "I don't know what you're talking about!" "YOU THINK YOUR LIES WILL HELP YOU NOW?!" Bill roared, grabbing Fox by the shoulders, shaking him. "You told her didn't you!?" "Who?" "You know who! That Scully woman!!" he shouted. "No! No, I didn't-" Fox pleaded. "YOU TOLD HER!!!" "No!" "YOU DID!!!" "I don't know what your talking about Dad, honest!" "ADMIT IT BOY!!" "NO!" Fox cried. "YOU'RE A LIAR!" "No I . . ." Fox whimpered. "If you know what's good for you boy, you'll tell me the truth!" Bill snarled. "This is the last time I'm gonna ask you boy. You told her didn't you?!" "DIDN'T YOU?!!" A statement. Not a question. Fox nodded and shielded his head with his hands. ``````````````````` END PART (7a/8) Date: Sun, 28 Feb 1999 15:14:32 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (7b/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom a Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` A little bit later... Left arm clutched around his ribs, Fox staggered through the now-howling storm. Mud squelched under his sneakers, devouring his foot and then grudgingly releasing it as he struggled on. Rain pounding a massive weight on his shoulders, he fell to his knees. Wavering in the wind for a moment, his body soon gave in to exhaustion, he fell, landing awkwardly on the muddy ground of the dark forest. Fox closed his eyes at the respite and sunk into the thick layer of mud and slush. Turning his face down onto the slimy mud, blackness in his eyes crisscrossed with dots that look like drifting stars. Sheets of rain beat down as the wind bellowed, only interrupted by a regular flash of brilliant light and the booming of nearby thunder. Staring up at as the water pelted down onto his face and mixed with his blood and tears, Fox stuck out his tongue to catch some rain. And the thought struck him as fast as the lightning streaked across the sky above. Running away from his father was probably not the smartest idea long term. It was instinct, fight or flight. He'd have to go back sometime, have to see him and have to be told off for making his mother worry. That was, if she missed him. He wondered what had brought it to this. Lying on his side in mud two inches deep, with rain pounding down around him. And the pain. Yes the pain. Like the incessant throbbing would ever let him forget. He was in the middle of a dark forest, during a storm, laying in the mud with pain hammering through his body with ever move, every breath. Still, laying in muddy slush was a better alternative to staying around, inviting him for a second turn. Mud, snow, water; anything that Mother Nature could throw at him would be better. He closed his eyes longing for the sleep that threatened to overcome him. Instead, Fox rolled over and with the hand that wasn't holding his ribs, he tried in vain to push himself back onto his knees. Finally reaching his feet he slowly, warily, shakily stumbled on through the dark forest. ```````````````````` Later that night... Maggie looked up from her book and towards the incessant pounding on her front door. Through the living room window, she could see the wind thrashing about the trees and the rain pouring down in the storm. With the heavy humidity and stillness of the day, it had been building all afternoon, finally commencing with a force about two hours ago. Double-checking her memory, she recalled tucking all four children safe in their beds and looking over at William reading his newspaper close beside her, she wondered who in their right mind was wandering around in this storm. Getting up quickly she made her way to the front door. "Hello?!" a muffled voice called. "Just a minute!" Maggie called, turning the lock and throwing back the latch. Opening the door she was confronted with Teena Mulder. She was soaked through, her raincoat giving her little protection. Maggie opened the door fully and ushered her inside. "Have you seen Fox? Is he here?" Teena asked instantly pushing passed Maggie and into the hall. Removing the hood from her navy blue raincoat, she lean over and grabbed one of Maggie's hands in distress, emphasizing her words. "I have to find him." She shook her head. "He's not here. What's going on?" "I think he ran off a couple hours ago. I figured he ran down to our boat house on the lake, I went to find him, but I checked and he's not there. I'm really worried. He didn't come over here?" "No. He hasn't been here. What do you mean 'you think'?" Maggie asked frowning Teena sighed, "I wasn't home." "Why did he run?" asked Maggie Teena looked up meeting the other woman's gaze for the first time. "It was after. . . He. . . I'll give you two guesses and you'll get it on the first go," she answered softly, her voice wavering. Maggie gasped covering her mouth with her hand. "It was me today, trying to talk to him wasn't it? Dear lord, what happened!?" "It doesn't matter now, I have to find him. It's happened a couple of times, Fox just kind of disappears. Runs off to hide and lick his wounds," Teena sighed softly. "But we have to find him now. He could be really hurt." Silence passed between the two women. Teena teary gaze met Maggie's. Instead of the cold, gray, impenetrable steel Maggie had first witnessed; in the deep ash that reflected back at her she saw pain and desperation; a woman that was much older than what her thirty-something years. "Is your husband Bill out looking for him now?" "No. Work contacted him this afternoon . . . they needed him. He left for Providence when he Uh, he left a few hours ago." "What's going on?" asked William, joining them near the front door. "Fox has run off somewhere and Teena doesn't know where he's gone," Maggie relayed to her husband. "Teena where's Samantha?" "She was really tired after the carnival and playing with her friend, she went to bed as soon as we got home and then I noticed Fox wasn't around. I just thought he was down near the boat house, when it started really coming down I went down to get him but he wasn't there. I can't believe how stupid I was I didn't realise, I didn't think and I only noticed the empty scotch bottle and the broken plates when I couldn't find him. My little Fox is off somewhere hurt and I didn't even think to realise. . . I didn't want to believe. I thought he might of come here. I didn't wake Samantha up; she gets worried easily about her brother through all the things that have happened. I had to leave her and now she'll probably wake up from the storm and be worried without anyone around. She's probably scared out of her mind." "I can go get her, bring her over here until we find Fox," William suggested, receiving nods from Teena and Maggie, he quickly found his coat and hurried out the door but not before saying. "Wake up Dana, she might know where he's gone." Maggie ran into Melissa and Dana's room and pulled a protesting Dana from her bed and into a chair in the living room. "Mom . . . what time is it?" Dana asked rubbing her eyes. "It's about 10:00," Maggie replied kneeling down to the right of her daughter, while Teena stood at the left. "Honey listen, Fox has run off. Do you know where he might go?" Instantly awake, Dana looked up and eyed Teena suspiciously. "Maybe." "Where honey?" Dana shook her head, "I dunno." "You do know! Where is he?" demanded Teena. "I'm not supposed to say." "Why not?" "I'm not supposed to say!" Dana insisted. Maggie sat down on the couch beside her daughter and put her arm around her, rubbing her back. "Dana, It's raining pretty hard, and the wind is blowing pretty strong. Fox could get a cold and get sick. We need you to tell us," reasoned Maggie. Dana shook her head. "It's a secret." "Where did he go?" asked Maggie. "I promised!" Dana insisted. "Why did you make a promise not to tell? What was so important?" questioned Teena, sitting down on the other side of Dana. "He made me promise not to say. I won't break that promise. I can't break a promise." "No, you should not break promises, Dana," agreed Maggie. "But he could be hurt and sick from the storm. We need to find him. The right thing to do is tell us." Dana sighed. "Fox told me that's where he'd go, if things got bad again. I'm not allowed to tell anyone because Fox said if I did his Dad I'd find him and hurt him some more." "It's a hiding place?" Maggie asked. She nodded. "Dana, I know he's your friend and I know you want to keep your promise, but Fox's Daddy had to go up to Providence, he's not here, he can't hurt him," said Teena. "We're looking for him he could get sick in all this rain." Dana looked up into the other woman's eyes. "Why do you let him hurt Fox?" A simple question. A pointed question that hits right on target. A question only a child would dare to ask. After a moment, "Because I can't stop him. Because he doesn't listen," replied Teena on the verge of tears. "No," interrupted Dana looking up into Teena's eyes. "It's because if he hurts Fox, then he won't hurt you." Maggie was mortified. Teena reeled in shock. "Isn't it?" Dana persisted. "Dana! That's-" "No," Teena cut Maggie off, "She's right. You're absolutely right Dana. It's the truth," Teena replied, getting to her feet, looking down to the ground. "Dana," said Maggie softly, stroking her daughters face. "Where would he go?" "I promised, Mom," Dana replied weakly, on the verge of tears. "I can't tell you." "Honey." "I promised not to tell, I promised Fox. He trusts me, I won't break it!" "Dana, he made you promise not to say," said Maggie reasoning. "But you won't break your promise if you show us. If you show us where he's gone." She looked up into her mother's gentle brown eyes. "Take us there, Dana." ```````````````````` "Fox!" yelled Maggie through the sheets of rain. Shielding her eyes from the water, she looked about hoping to see a small boys form laying about the forest clearing. She sighed, and continued putting one foot after the other through the muddy sludge that was the forest floor. "Dana, where are we going?!" called Teena towards the small figure in the yellow raincoat. Dana didn't appear to hear, so she shouted again. "Dana, where are we going?!" she yelled louder, stronger than the first as the wind lashed her dark locks around her face. Although barely audible over the wailing storm, "I dunno. It's up ahead I think," Dana replied, pointing along the track. Teena moved closer, "You can't remember where it is?" "It all looks different in the dark. What if I can't find him Mom?" asked Dana. Maggie looked down at her daughter, Dana's crystal blue eyes, surrounded in tears returned the gaze. "We will, honey," Maggie reassured, putting an arm around her daughter. "We'll find him." Dana looked up at the dark sky, unable to see the clouds that soaked her in cold rain. The water poured down her face, mixing with tears as she sent up a silent prayer, knowing someone would be listening. The wind howled through the forest as the rain beat down in blinding sheets; the full force of the storm that had built up over the ocean for hours only now seemed wavering from its peak. Not usual Rhode Island weather but not overly surprising from the heat in the last week. "Fox!" Teena called. Stumbling over a large, above ground tree root, Dana tripped but grabbed hold of the trunk of a close by tree. Leaning against the gnarled and twisted tree, Dana grabbed a firm hold of the trunk as she pulled her foot free from the muddy slop and righted her footing. Once freed from the mud and no longer in any danger of falling down face first into the brown muck of the forest floor, Dana noticed the foot-long slat of wood nailed right into the oak tree. Wondering if it could possibly be true, Dana reached up directly above the first slat and felt around for a second slat nailed into the trunk about a foot above the first. As her hand came into contact with the second piece of timber Dana looked up and not only could she see the second slat, but the third, fourth and fifth as well. Dana smiled as she looked up at the ladder, to the oak which housed the fort. "MOM!" Dana screamed, over the shrieking wind. "I found it! I found it!" Maggie and Teena came rushing over to the large oak tree. Just as Dana stepped over and found a grip on the ladder to begin climbing, Teena shoved her out of the way and began to climb clumsily up to the tree house herself. Maggie caught her daughter as she began flailing backwards and sliding along in the mud at Teena's light push. Keeping hold of her mother, Dana steadied her footing and then walked around to the other side of the oak. "He's not up here!" Teena cried. Looking up to where Teena stood on the platform of the tree house, Dana slowly let her gaze travel from her, down the trunk and finally coming to rest on a small curled up body, resting on the ground at the base of the trunk. "MOM!" Dana screamed, running over to where Fox lay on the ground. "I found him! I found him!" As Teena scrambled down from the tree, Maggie ran over to where Dana knelt around a small, unconscious body. "He's cold, Mom," said Dana worried. "And he's asleep too." "Omigod!" Maggie exclaimed, touching Fox's cold and clammy cheek. "You're right, he's freezing, and he's soaked through," she said, taking off her coat of to wrap around his shoulders. Teena ran over, pushing Dana and Maggie out of the way she knelt down and pulled Fox into her arms. "Mom . . ." he groaned, opening his eyes a crack. "Hush, my little Fox," Teena said comforting, stroking her son's forehead and pulling him close to keep warm. "It's going to be all right, Fox," she whispered, as she rested her cheek down onto Fox's head. "You don't have to worry anymore." END PART (7b/8) From: "kristy_t" Date: Sun, 28 Feb 1999 15:14:32 +0000 Subject: NEW: Seldom A Mistake (8/8) `````````````````````````````````````````````````` It is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is Seldom a Mistake. `````````````````````````````````````````````````` Next Day Sunday 12:30 PM Shelter Harbor Municipal Hospital "Yes. We're looking for Fox Mulder. He was brought in late last night," said Maggie as she and Dana reached the nurses station in the small coastal clinic. "Oh, right," said the young nurse, who looked barely old enough to hold down a job, while absent-mindlessly tapping a pen against her desk. "The kid caught in the storm." Maggie gritted her teeth. "Yes. That's him." "I'm sorry he's no longer with us," the nurse replied nonchalantly, smacking her bubble gum and rearranging the file in front of her. "What!" "He's. . . he's no longer a patient here," the young nurse stuttered, unnerved from Maggie's outburst. "He was just transferred, ma'am. Dr. Novak treated him. He'll be happy to answer any of your questions." Maggie breathed a sigh of relief and released Dana's hand from her tight grip, all the while staring in wonder at the woman, hell, girl in front of her. How on earth did she get to be a nurse? Any candy-striper with half a brain has more tact. Apparently, there was good reason for her to be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. "The doctor is just down the hall." The nurse pointed Maggie and Dana in the direction of a tall, balding, fifty-ish man in a white coat with thick, black rimmed glasses. "Dr. Novak?" "Yes," he replied, looking up from his clipboard to see Dana and Maggie walking towards him. "What can you tell me about Fox Mulder's condition?" Maggie asked "And who might you be?" the doctor inquired, taking in their appearances, looking Maggie and her daughter up and down. Dr. Novak's gaze stopped suddenly as he reached the young girl's bright red hair: it was tightly pulled back, but dirty and rather matted. Glancing over at the woman, he noticed her bleary eyes, presumably from lack of sleep, saw her own rather unkempt hair. Frowning at his inspection, Dana replied, We're friends." Dr. Novak internally shrugged and satisfied with her answer he started consulting the clipboard, "Besides the concussion, scrapes and bruises, he fractured a ribs. Also he had some serious bruising to his stomach and kidneys and a mild case of pneumonia, but he should be completely fine in two to three weeks." "And is it in your medical opinion, that all these injuries are due to being out in a storm?" asked Maggie, pursing her lips. Her implication reminding himself to his own mounting suspicions, Dr. Novak sighed and removed his glasses. "No, ma'am," he replied squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I think it is fairly obvious that the child did not receive most of this injuries from wandering about in a storm." He paused and sighed again, placing the glasses back upon his nose. "We are reluctant to interfere with these cases." Maggie frowned. "Why is that?" "Well," he replied, letting out a long breath of air. "It is often difficult to determine the. . . ahh surrounding circumstances." Maggie nodded thinking it over and then said, "But no attempt is being made here to determine these circumstances. Is there, doctor?" "Ma'am, I'm sorry there is nothing we can do. I can only propose that you, yourself, make a formal complaint to the right people," Novak suggested. "Don't worry, I will," she replied. "I understand Fox was transferred to another hospital?" "Shelter Harbor is only a small coastal hospital. We wanted to transfer him up to Providence just to be on the safe side, but his family is having him flown to Boston instead. Closer to home or something." "Do you have the hospital he was being taken to?" Asked Maggie. "Ahem." Maggie and Dana turned around to see Teena Mulder a few feet behind them. "Excuse us, doctor," said Teena, causing him to nod and move away, swiftly down the hall. "I thought you would have gone with Fox," said Maggie to the other woman. "Samantha and his father did," Teena explained. "I am just finishing up things on this end. That and I wanted to thank you for your help last night." "I'm not the one you should be thanking," Maggie replied, looking down at Dana. Taking her hint, Teena reached out and patted Dana on the head. "We would never have found him if it hadn't been for you, Dana. Thank you," Teena said quietly. "I'm just glad he's okay," Dana answered, still hanging tightly to her mother's hand. "Yes, he'll be all right, everything will be all right," said Teena nodding, seemingly trying to assure herself more then anyone else. "I will talk to him," Teena stated, her voice wavering slightly. "I will try." "You'll try?" Maggie repeated, incredulously. "I hope you'll be more convincing than you are now." "Bill was drunk out of his mind. He didn't know what he was doing," Teena replied, tightlipped. "You believe that?" "Bill apologised, he's with Fox now, trying to make it up to him. There's not to much more I can do," replied Teena firmly. Maggie balked. "How many more times is your husband going to have to 'try to make it up to him'!?" "What?" snapped Teena. "Would you prefer to see him burnt at the stake? What's done is done." "What's done is done?" Maggie repeated in disbelief. "You listen to me!" Teena spat, her eyes suddenly turning stormy. "You seem to think you can fix everything. You're the reason for it. Bill got angry yesterday after YOU had a little chat with him. If you had butted out and minded your own business then nothing would have happened. But NO! You shoved your nose in and because of you a little boy, an innocent little boy, got hurt!" "How dare you turn this back upon me!" Maggie exclaimed. "I am not at fault. If you weren't too spineless, too weak to stand up to him, it would be all right! Everything rests squarely on your shoulders," she raged. "I will attend to it," Teena replied, pushing past Dana and Maggie, moving down the hall. Maggie yelled after her, "I don't believe you!" Teena turned back and stared silently over at the other woman. Maggie's eyes flashed. "You have to do something!" Teena stared back, slowly shook her head and let her gaze fall down to the floor. Dana's eyes narrowed, "Call yourself a mother? Do you hear, everyone!?" She shouted, although no one else was around. "Teena Mulder would rather see her only son beaten within an inch of his life, than let a finger be laid on herself." Abruptly, the Scullys stalked away, Teena gazed up at the ceiling, down the hallway and all around her. Desperately trying to spot this cruel woman that was abandoning her son. ```````````````````` Dana was silent until they reached the hospital parking lot. "Mom," she started. "What honey?" Maggie answered, unlocking the car door for Dana to hop in and then moving around to the driver's side to climb in herself. "I still have Fox's mitt," Dana replied quietly, her chin wavering. "He lent his baseball glove to me and now that he's gone home, I'll never get to give it back," she admitted, pulling on her seat belt and buckling in. "Don't worry, sweetie," Maggie reassured, giving her daughter a small smile and patting her on the shoulder. "He'll get a new one. I'm sure he wanted you to have it." "NO! No, you don't understand," Dana cried out. "This glove was really important to him. He loved it." "I'm sure his Mom will buy him another one, sweetie." "No. It's not the stupid mitt!" she exclaimed, "It's what happened the day that he got it." "Dana..." "He loved it, Mom. His Dad gave it to him for his birthday a couple years ago. And then the two of them went all the way down to New York to see the Yankees play. He had a really great time that day," she blurted out. "I just knew it was one of the few really good times he had with his Dad," Dana told her quietly, trying to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. "He loved it, Mom. It means everything to him," she finished, wiping away the stray tears that fell down her cheeks. "Dana . . .," Maggie started, unsure of herself, "I bet . . .I bet he's glad you have it." "I miss him, Mom. He's my friend," Dana sobbed, looking up at her mother, allowing the tears to track freely down her face. "My best friend. I never got to say goodbye. And I'm never ever, ever going to see him again." "Dana," Maggie soothed, releasing her daughter from her seat belt and pulling her into her arms. "You'll see him again," she comforted, stroking her daughter's hair with one hand while the other pulled Dana tightly against her. Pulling back slightly, Dana looked up wide-eyed at her mother with all the innocence of a nine-year-old. "Promise?" Dana asked hopefully. "I promise." Maggie affirmed, and drew Dana back into her arms. ```````````````````` Massachusetts Department of Social Services Boston MA Friday, 17th August 1973 One Month Later Dan Housemann loved his job. He loved that he helped children and families and therefore helped the community. Dan Housemann hated his job. He hated dividing families, but hated more the bastards that caused the damage in the first place. He stared at the single report laying on his deep green desk blotter. Child abuse. He loathed to open it. Quarter to five, if he rearranged his out box, and took the time to walk to the stationery cupboard for more staples, he could walk right out and leave it for Monday. Dan sighed and opened the report. A kid needed his help, the longer he dawdled, the more he hindered and was no better than the thousands of neighbors, cousins, uncles and teachers that refused to believe what was going on even with the evidence living, breathing and reaching out for help right in front of their noses. He sighed again and began to read. Dan stared at the phone. Annoyed or relieved; it was hard to decide. "Dan Housemann." "Yes, Dan. It's Mr. Perkins. I'm looking for a report, one filed by a . . . Mr. and Mrs. William Scully." "Yes sir. I have it right here, sir." "Good, good. Bring it up to my office on your way out this afternoon. Give it to my assistant, Susie. Seems that the report was directed to the wrong office." "Are you sure Sir? I haven't looked far into it, but it seems like a pretty standard case for our department. It's an average child abuse report, no different from all the others we--" "It is being redirected. Bring it up here now and leave early for the weekend." Click. Dan returned the phone to its cradle, grabbed the report, his jacket and left his eight-by-ten, plain, impersonal, government office. Locking the door he glanced at his watch. 4:52 "Leave early for the weekend," he mimicked. "Prick." ```````````````````` State Department Boston MA Tuesday, 21st August 1973 10:07 AM The polished oak desk was the focus of the office. It was bought as a gift for all the work over the years. He was important to the project, the inventor, they needed him. Them, giving a gift. Enough said. No note, card, nothing. It was just there one morning, and his pine standard government issue had disappeared. Here today, gone tomorrow. Nothing is certain, sacred or untouchable when it concerns the work. There one morning, gone the next. A warning of things to come. Or a threat. Bill Mulder shuffled through the organized chaos that was his desk. He looked for the copy to the redirection memo he had sent across town, his immediate response when he heard of the report's existence. The longer it was out there, the more unsettled he became. The truth was out there, but it was his job to keep a lid on it. So true, for so many things. "Yes?" "Mr. Mulder," said the young brunette, secretary entering the office. "I have this morning's mail." "Penny, there should be an envelope that was redirected to me. Can I have it, please?" he demanded. Walking closer to the desk, she rifled through the mail, "Sorry, Sir. Not here." "No!" He replied, jumping up from his chair and snatching the mail from her hands. "It should be a big government envelope with a report inside." "Sir?" "It's not here. Get down to the mailroom and don't come back until you have it," he commanded. "I need that report. You understand girl!? I need it." "But Sir--" "It was misplaced, it has been recovered," declared a deep, lifeless voice, belonging to the large, roundish man standing in the doorway. One hand tucked deep into his suit pants pocket, the other clutched around a large envelope, his expressionless face and lifeless dark eyes sought out Bill's. "Excuse us Penny," said Bill, his The secretary quickly retreated from the office, leaving the men to their business. From just the brief snippets of conversations she had overheard in the past four years while working for Mr. Mulder, Penny had long decided that there were too many things she was better off not knowing. The heavy man in the dark suit, swiftly closed the door after her exit. "Well, where is he?" Bill asked, narrowing his eyes and taking his seat behind his desk. "Who?" The man replied, walking over to stand directly in front of Bill's desk still holding onto the report firmly in one hand. "Who do you think? You're around him so much, I'm surprised you haven't taken up the sticks as well. Those things are addictive, you know." "I am not here for the work Bill. This matter is simple and must be seen to as soon as possible," the man replied in his flat, monotone voice. "And what matter is that?" Bill responded. His face remained impassive. "I think you know what." "I don't know what you're talking about," replied Bill flatly and beginning to shuffle papers around on his desk. "And if there's a point to this little visit, please feel free to come to it." "Our concern is solely for this report," the man said tossing it down onto the desk. "And what it's possible repercussions might be." "There will be no repercussions," replied Bill firmly. "There is no problem here that I can't fix." "This Scully woman?" "I will see to it." "Without this report, she's inconsequential and won't be a problem. Leave her," instructed the large man. "I will see to it," Bill repeated strongly, glaring over at the man. "You'd better damn well not," the man shot back, strongly. "More possible exposure is the last thing we need. And you Bill," he said with distaste, "you're never satisfied unless the body count is rising," he finished shaking his head in disgust. Ignoring him, Bill picked up the Social Services report from his desk. "How did you get it?" he asked, leafing through it's pages. "Through channels," the man replied, "this hurts you and could, in turn, hurt us." "No," denied Bill, "It's a lie, imagined by a nosy woman." "I'd much prefer go and examine the evidence in a Vineyard school at this very moment," the overweight man replied unbelieving. "And I'd have no doubt as to what I'd find." Locked eyes. "Leave the boy alone," the man stated lifelessly. "What do you care?" asked Bill as the office door opened and a man slipped inside causing Bill and the heavy, man to turn and face him. Wearing his own dark, government suit, the third man took a long drag of his cigarette and walked over to them. "Leave the boy alone as he says," said the smoking man. "He could be useful for the future." "What's that supposed to mean?" Demanded Bill. "Mulder," he said stopping to take another puff before continuing, "your son could be useful, you of all people should know how we occasionally run short on . . . merchandise." "I'd never use him for the project," he replied coldly. "Not as a subject, not in the tests," Bill spat back, deadly serious. "You're trying to protect him from us, maybe you should protect him from yourself," the large, heavy man replied sharply. "He could be useful for the future, Bill. Someone needs to carry on the work. We could use a smart boy like him to mold," continued the smoking man. "Though he'll be worthless, if you continue as you do now, by then he'll only be good for a psychiatrist's bank balance, and we will have find *another* use for him," the smoking man finished and took another puff. "No," said Bill, his voice rising. "We had an agreement. My kids were never to be involved, never to--" "No," interrupted the heavy set man. "We just changed it. We have a new arrangement. You don't harm him, we won't harm him. Agreed?" said, rising from his chair. "Agree to what!?" Demanded Bill. "Turn Fox over to the devil, or make him work for him? There's a difference!?" "You know the difference between the merchandise and us Bill. It's a large one, you agree?" the large man exchanged a look with the smoker, "It's Fox's life in your hands." Bill remained silent. The men took his answer and filed silently out the door. Bill sighed, leaning down on his desk and putting his head in his hands. He looked up to see himself and his family smiling back at him from the small wooden frame that sat on his desk. Last autumn, a picnic with several different families. The Mulder's, a perfect family for a day. Loving father, doting mother and two well behaved kids. Fox, innocent and happy. Not sad and forlorn. His son's face smiled back at him, but his intense hazel eyes burned a path right into his father's soul. A deal with the devil. To be a part of it, or be it? "Good god, what have I done!?" END PART (8/8) -That's all folks- Like? Hate? Makes you nauseous and puts you off fanfic forever??? Okay let's see... I swap eclairs, donuts AND your heart's desire as long as it includes chocolate, for feedback! kristy_t@xoommail.com