Disclaimer and classifications in Part 1.
SUMMARY, Part 2: Young Mulder gets every big brother's wish when little sister Sam "gets lost". Mulder's life is changed forever, he sets off on the ultimate guilt road trip, and we learn (at least a little) more about motives in this whole sordid business. Most important of all, we finally discover the first names of both Ma Mulder and Cancer Man. Remember, you heard them here first...
***************
Part 2
November 27, 1973
Mulder residence
Chilmark, Mass.
3:52 p.m.
Fox knew that his mother would be alone in the house. Samantha was at Girl Scouts, his father at work. At least he didn't have to worry about them getting in the way of his mission just yet. "Mom! MOM!I've got to talk to you!" Fox shouted, uncharacteristically letting the door slam behind him as he returned home from school, and even more uncharacteristically tearing through the house, searching for Peg Mulder and her much-needed attention. If his father had been there to witnessthis behavior, Fox knew, Fox would never hear the end of it. But his father wouldn't be home for at least another two hours.
"Fox! What in the world is wrong?" Peg Mulder asked in surprise and concern when her eldest child ran headlong into her as she came through the door from the garden and into the autumn sun-speckled kitchen. "I could hear you calling all the way out in the arbor. I'm sure the neighbors could hear you, as well," she added. "Did something happen to you in school again?"
Fox ignored her question, being so intent on resolving his dilemma that he couldn't give her words much attention. "Mom, you've got to get me out of babysitting Samantha tonight. You've just got to!"Fox pleaded, forgetting to put on his lost puppy dog face that wasusually quite effective with his mother. He was far too upset to thinkof anything quite so manipulative.
Peg looked at her son with the kind of sympathy only a mothercan have. She was relieved to see that Fox had not come home with a bloody nose or other signs of a physical incident.
"Honey, you know that we are counting on you to look after your sister tonight. It's been a long time since your father and I have been out together...A very long time," she added. "And you knowhow your father feels about you taking responsibility for your sister. Now tell me, what has happened that has made you behave thisway? What, is there some football game at school tonight that you want to go see?"
Fox looked dejectedly down at his sneakers; laced his fingers tightly behind his back; looked at the wall, the ceiling, anything but the maternal concern he knew was in Peg Mulder's eyes. He could notface his mother with this kind of problem. What would she say? Whatwould she think of him? What would his dad say to shame Fox when he inevitably found out?
Fox had never been in a situation like this, with his duty to his parentsin direct conflict with his newly-enervated hormones. Up until this moment, playing the role of the dutiful son had been relatively uncomplicated. Peg Mulder had never seen her son quite like thisbefore, either.
"No, umm...I -- It's just that a kid from school asked me to help with Biology. They...they got really behind, and they really need some help to catch up." Fox was glad he had managed to get through that explanation without letting it slip that "they" wasreally a "she". Despite his precautions, he still felt as if he were lying to his mother. Fox had no problem lying to his father when he needed to; lying was a matter of survival around his dad. But he hated lying to his mother.
Peg smiled that Fox's problem was something so trivial."Well, that's easily handled," she responded cheerfully, putting a hand lightly on her son's arm. "You can always go see him tomorrow. I don't like the idea of you going out after dark, anyway. It would be better for you to go tomorrow -- you'll have all day tohelp him."
"But I...I..." Fox began, then gave up. There was no way he could get out of this without letting his mother know that it was Winnie Rystrand he wanted to "help out" with Biology studies. /Man, myone big chance, and it's slipping through my fingers!> Fox thought./Just because of my sister and some dumb old fogies' bridge game!/
Peg could see the disappointment in her son's eyes, but couldn't understand why he'd be upset over such a small matter. /He's always had such a hard time making friends, I suppose/, she explained to herself. /Maybe this boy is someone Fox wants to impress. If only those children could see what a sweet boy Fox really is!/ But she knew she was just seeing everything through a mother's prejudiced eyes.
"Well, you invite him over to the house tomorrow. I'll make you a nice lunch, and you can spend all day together," Peg consoled. Fox's demeanor hadn't changed a bit. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Dear?"
"No, it's nothing, Mom. It's okay. I'll look after Sam," Fox said, finally meeting his mother's gaze. "Don't worry, everything's okay." Fox turned, not wanting his mother to pry any further, and trotted tohis room, closing the door carefully behind him before throwing himself face down on the bed.
/Darn that Sam! She's such a little princess sometimes. If it wasn't for her, maybe I could have a normal life for a change!/Fox thought. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam was his father's favorite. Nothing Fox could do was good enough to his father; Sam could do no wrong. But Fox regretted his thoughtsalmost as soon as they came. Fox did like Sam. He loved her, actually, a fact that was often hard for a 12-year-old boy to admit to anyone, including himself.
***************
Peg Mulder was not satisfied with the way she had handled her son. She knew that something else was wrong. She wished he hadn'tbecome so secretive lately; her son tried hard to be strong for Bill.Still, she knew this was just an inevitable part of Fox becoming a man.
Peg snd Fox had always been especially close; although Fox put on a tough exterior for the benefit of her husband, Fox had always been able to open up to his mother. Until recently. /He's starting to get so big; he'll probably end up as tall as Ben. Soon he won't want to have anything to do with me/, Peg feared. /I'm going to miss my little boy./
***************
That night
Mulder residence
8:07 p.m.
"Fox! Fox! Come out of the closet! I want you to play dress-up with me!"
"Buzz off, Sam! I'm not gonna do that with you!" Fox yelled as he held the handle to the closet door secure from his sister's efforts at intrusion.
"No, Doggie, it's just my stupid sister being a pain in the butt...Yeah, she really did! She said she thought I was cute!...After all the years you've known me, Doggie, after all the things we've been through, why won't you believe me?"
Fox had been in the closet, phone in hand, since his parents had walked out the door
nearly an hour ago. The closet was his only refuge from his sister and her demands to play
dolls with her. Fox's first call was made to Winnie to beg off for the night.
After having a very reassuring conversation with Winnie, he had spent the next 45 minutes reporting his exploits to his best friend, David "Doggie" Anderson. Doggie was two years older than Fox and on the school basketball and baseball teams; he was still a bit of an outcast among some of his less tolerant contemporaries, however, particularly because of his apparently uncontrollable fondness for writing poetry. That just didn't cut it with the Jocks. A few of the older kids, however, thought he was pretty cool. His"select" group of friends sampled the gamut from Stoners to Brains, and were mostly juniors and seniors.
Regardless, Doggie was the rare kind of boy who didn't care about what other kids thought about him; he didn't care if others didn't approve of who he hung out with or what he wore or what his hairlooked like or what he did in his spare time. Fox admired Doggie for that. The majority of the kids at school didn't.
"Well, guess what, Doggie? It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, 'cause it's true. Winnie Rystrand likes me," Fox joyfully insisted to his friend.
"Fox, I'm telling Daddy that you spent the whole night in the closet, talking on the phone!" Samantha whined from the other side of the door. "He's gonna give you the whipping of your life when he finds out!"
"Hey, Doggie, I gotta go. My sister's having a fit. I'll talk to ya later, okay?" Fox hurriedly hung up the phone and got up from his cramped position on the closet floor, pins and needles rushing to his legs."You'd better not tell, Butt Munch, or I'll kill you with my bare hands!"
Fox hollered at his sister as he hurriedly came out of the closet. Samantha ran into the living room screaming in glee with Fox in hot pursuit, the eight-year-old girl delighted at finally getting her brother's attention away from the phone and onto her, where it rightfully belonged.
Samantha stopped her flight in one corner of the living room. Fox caught up with her, but didn't make any move to follow through on his threats. Samantha suddenly looked sad. She had perfectedthe same "lost puppy" look Fox had. "Aw, you know I wouldn't really tell Daddy," she said honestly, turning up her large brown eyes to look into her brother's green ones. "I hate it when he gets mad at you. I just wanted you to play with me."
It was always easy for Fox to make up with his sister, to forgive her for all the little annoyances that only a sister, four years his junior, could cause. She was so cute, and she loved him as much as he did her. Despite their occasional fights and teasing, Fox and Samantha shared a strange sibling camaraderie, possibly a reaction to the tension between their parents that the family never discussed, but which hungabout the house like a foreboding cloud.
It was the kind of tension that children could sense as clearly as adults, but which they could never really understand; not completely, at least. They knew it was there; Fox could almost touch it, but there was ashadowy secret behind the tension in the Mulder household that Fox was afraid to pursue. Fox was bright, sensitive, emotionally maturefor his age, but he was still only a 12-year-old boy. Pursuing it might mean having to discover more about his father than Fox really wanted to know -- not while he still craved Bill Mulder's approval.
The tension mainly manifested itself to Fox and Sam in the way it was occasionally and unpredictably released; when their father would drink too much some nights and get embarrassing and nasty, calling Fox a "bastard" for hardly anything at all, or slapping Fox across theface for not showing him "proper respect" when he didn't use exactlythe right tone of voice when Bill Mulder imagined Fox had "talked back" to him. Or how their father would blow up at Fox sometimes for leavinga light on by mistake or not putting his bike away just right -- sometimes it seemed that anything and everything could set Bill Mulder's ire onhis eldest child. These episodes were just as frightening for Samantha as they were for her big brother. The two had become like seasoned combat veterans; buddies for life.
Fox looked at his sister and called his truce. "Okay, Spam Sandwich, I'll play with you. But we're NOT playing dress-up again and we're NOT playing with your dumb Barbies!"
Fox looked around the living room to get some inspiration on how to entertain his sister without going totally out of his mind with boredom. His eyes finally rested on a slim cardboard box, orange and white, that rested on a shelf amid a stack of games no self-respecting 12-year-oldboy would be caught dead playing, unless he absolutely had to: among them "Sorry", "Operation", "Chutes and Ladders" and -- the baby game of all baby games, Fox considered -- "Candyland".
"Okay, we'll play 'Stratego'," Fox announced, going to the bookcase and pulling out the box. He then pulled on the TV, cranking the knob to Channel 7. /At least "The Magician" will be on tonight, if this Watergate stuff doesn't get in the way/, Fox consoled himself.
"Aw, do we have to play STRATEGO?" Samantha whined again, enunciating every syllable. "I hate that game, Fox. You always win. It's no fun."
"You wanted to play with me, right? This is what we're playing.
Now shut your smelly trap, or go to our room and play with your stupid Barbies BY YOURSELF," Fox threatened. "And while you're at it, keep your hands out of my stuff and off of my side."
"No, I want to play with you," Samantha reluctantly conceded. "I'll play the dorky game. But later, we can play dress up, right?"
"Aw, crud," Fox sighed quietly. It was going to be a long night.
***************
That evening
900 W. Georgia St.
Washington, D.C.
9:02 p.m.
Ben Mulder watched as the black-and-white war film flickered on the screen. John Wayne was ordering his leathernecks to take the next hill. Ben didn't much care for the movie, wasn't really paying any attention, but it kept him company and it helped him sleep. In anhour or two, he would move from the armchair and onto the couch, where he could gradually drift off to the sounds of grenades exploding and machine guns firing. Just as he did most nights; once darkness fell, he could not so easily stave off the guilt he felt; not like he couldwith his long hours in daylight when he could immerse himself in his work.
Ben stubbed out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray at his side. He deftly juggled another out of the pack and began the unconscious ritual of lighting, puffing, exhaling. He hardly realized he was doing it,it had become such an accepted practice to him.
His thoughts drifted back to the night's events. He wondered if he could ever have lived his life differently -- if he could have led a normal lifewith a wife and kids and a regular job. Remained ignorant of it all.
A more immediate concern forced its way into his thoughts of impossibledomesticity. Thoughts that concerned the future of his only child.
/It will happen soon, if it hasn't happened already/, Ben reminded himself as he glanced at the clock on top of the T.V.
He pushed that thought aside with more pleasant thoughts of just two summers ago, the last time he had been at the summer house in Rhode Island. Fox had been nine that year, almost ten. Ben had begun to see the resemblance that summer: the boy's large hands and feet that would eventually be proportioned with the rest of his body; the facial features that were still unformed and childish, but which Ben knew would someday closely mirror his. Even the way Fox carried himself reminded Ben of his own leisurely, lanky gait.
That summer in particular, Ben had wished things could be different. Seeing Fox playing in the surf with his sister tagging behind, Peg continually trying to keep the little girl from diving into the water after her big brother, Ben had wished he could have been in anothertime and place, where certain events had not occurred and he had never heard of certain events to come. Ben had longed to join his son on the beach, to have Fox know who he really was, to toss a football with him as Ben's own father had never done with him, to have Peg as his wife, to share their lives together in ignorant bliss.
But Peg had chosen to stay with the man she had married, not the one she truly loved.
Ben's idle thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. /Who the hell could that be, at this hour?/ Ben wondered, getting up slowly from his seat. He never had visitors come to his home.
He quickly grabbed his gun from the coffee table and cautiously went
to the door, peering out of the peephole. Surprised, Ben tucked his gun into the back of his waistband and opened the door for his caller.
"Benjamin. Good evening," his visitor said as he walked over the threshold, letting Ben close the door behind him. "I wanted to see you personally about this."
Ben Mulder looked at his visitor inquisitively.
"I thought you should know," the dapper man explained, "before you find out elsewhere, that there has been a last-minute change in plans about the -- occurrence tonight."
"Exactly what kind of change are you talking about?" Ben asked his associate, a crack in his voice betraying his concern. /Please, don't let them have decided to harm Fox, now that I've handed him over to them/, Ben pleaded silently. He knew he wouldn't be ableto handle the guilt.
"It was my understanding that everything was set, that everything was agreed upon," Ben said uncertainly, trying to keep his voice under control.
"Yes, that was my understanding, as well. But the group made a decision, against my advisement, and I could do nothing to stop it. I know we had promised Bill that he could make the choice, but.."
"The choice? Is that what this is about?" Ben asked, somewhat relieved. "What are you talking about?"
The man sighed, deciding to tell Ben all the details at once. "The group has felt that -- that it would be more effective to take the girl, instead of the elder child."
Ben was confused as to how he should feel at this news. When Bill had chosen to give up Fox, at first Ben had been distraught. However, with time, he had managed to rationalize that the decision could be used to his advantage. There would be requirements to fulfill, he knew, but once Fox underwent the initial tests and samples, Ben had hoped to finally be able to draw his son to his side, to have him assume an important role in the Plan.
Fox was a smart boy. Much smarter than Ben had ever been. The group already suspected what an asset this intelligence could be to the project. And Ben, in secret, hoped that he and his son could have a future together, if only he could get the boy away from Bill. This had seemed to be his only chance.
Ben's associate continued with what Ben had already discerned for himself, explaining the sudden change of plan. "The others knew that Bill would choose to keep the child he preferred. They decided to take the girl instead. As an extra insurance, if you will, of Bill's cooperation with the Project."
"And now," the man said, " they are expecting you to be the one to handle Bill when he finds out. After all, you are his closest friend.You can do that for us, can't you, Benjamin?"
"Of course I can," Ben answered.
***************
That night
11:21 p.m.
Mulder residence
A key rattled in the front door; moments later, Peg Mulder helped her husband into the darkened house, his bulk making it difficult for herto keep him upright. Bill wasn't a big man, and she herself was talland quite strong for a woman, but basic physics and years of practice didn't make this job any easier. Her plan was to get Bill to the couch so he could sleep it off. That done, she would check on the children.
Her immediate plans were interrupted when she noticed a form lying onthe plush carpet of the living room. She quickly recognised it as Fox.
/Poor dear, he must have fallen asleep on the floor waiting up for us>, she told herself. She guided her grumbling husband over to the couch, letting him fall face down onto it and lapse into an instantaneous, deep slumber.
She walked quietly over to her unconscious son, stooping to lightly pat his back to avoid shocking him into wakefulness. "Fox", she whispered. "Fox, we're home. You can go to bed now."
Fox didn't respond. He was on his side, his back to her, curled up with his arms hugging his knees tightly to his chest. Even with hisback to her, he looked much younger to her now than he had when she and Bill had left him earlier that evening.
"Fox, Honey, wake up. It's time for bed." Peg shook him a little harder, knowing her son to be a heavy sleeper. When Fox still did not respond, Peg gently rolled him over. It was dark, but she could make out enough of her son's face to make her gasp, surprised to see his thumb in his mouth, his eyes wide open and staring into nothingness.
"Fox! Fox! What's wrong!" Peg shouted, hysteria gripping her voice. She pulled his limp arm away to remove his reluctant thumb from his mouth. She tried to pull his face towards her to make him look ather, but Fox's glazed eyes would not focus on her.
"Mommy, Mommy, I want to go home. I want to go home!" Fox began repeating quietly, as if the words were a mantra of protection.
***************
November 28
Mulder residence
10:13 p.m.
"What the hell do you mean, you don't remember anything? I'll see that you remember, you little bastard!" Bill Mulder put all of his weight into the slap across Fox's face. The last 24 hours or more had been a blur to Fox, with police relentlessly questioning him, the doctor prodding him, his father enraged, and his mother distraught with fear and grief. Now, with night come on again, he remembered little of what had been happening. Bill Mulder had sobered up quickly when Peg had screamed her husband awake on the couch, calling him every horrible name she could think of. It frightened Fox to see his mother like that.
Fox had been in a temporary catatonic state for hours after his parents had come home to find him on the floor. Fox couldn't remember the exact moment he came out of his trance, but now he was desperately trying to remember what had happened to his sister. Despite his usually flawless memory, the last thing he could recall, Fox kept explaining to the police, was telling Sam to get lost when she was bothering him on the phone. Even that memory was a little hazy.
Now the police were gone, off looking for the missing girl and doing what they could on a case with no clues. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen on the Vineyard," Fox remembered hearing one of the officers mutter as they left the house. Bill, who worked for theState Department, used his pull to get the F.B.I. in on the case. They would be arriving later that night.
"You did it, didn't you?" Bill Mulder continued with his tirade, shaking Fox by the shoulders as he battered words at the boy. "You've always been jealous of her; you had them take her instead, didn't you?"
Fox didn't understand what his father was asking; all he could answer was "No, Sir," to each of the questions his father kept barraging himwith. Fox knew he would never hurt his sister. Not Sam.
Fox's mother, the closest thing he had to a protector, was upstairs in bed, a sedative given to her to help her sleep. Just when Fox felt like his father might really lose it, might finally go too far and knock Fox into eternity, a sharp rapping sounded on one of the glass panes in the front door. The door had been left half open by the police officers when they had departed, and two tall men in grey suits walked into the living room as Fox and Bill Mulder looked up.
"Mr. Mulder, we're with the F.B.I."
Bill Mulder released his grip on Fox, quickly straightening himself up,smoothing back his hair, and looking embarassedly at the two agents. Fox heaved a sigh of relief at the first glimmer of hope he had had since this waking nightmare had begun.
At last, there were people who could help him. People stronger than his father, who could save him from this terror and finally make things right. /I'll bet the F.B.I. can find Sam/, Fox told himself. /If they can't, I sure as hell will./
The end...or is it just the beginning?
****************
(Okay, I know that tag line is a little corny; I just couldn't resist.)
Please respond to Mishka. Thanks!
Back to Griffin's Den Stories page