GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0700
"Nothin' to say, before I shoot this bullet through his eyes. Nothin' to say? No last plea, no beggin', no whimperin', no nothin'? Well, then…I guess that's all. That must be the last scene."
Nathan's hard eyes stared across the room at the trapped agent. He had seen his fair share of atrocities, victims, and heroes. And this fed was the hero type. He certainly didn't expect to hear anything come out of the man's mouth.
But as the agent made eye contact with the teenager, breaking his gaze from the barrel of the gun for just a moment, he cleared his throat. Then, with dust-filled lungs, he turned to the man behind the M9 and said, "You have…no hope."
No one in the room, including Mulder's would-be executioner, saw that coming. And, using that moment of hesitation, Nathan hurled himself forward and straight into the serial killer. The teenager completed the tackle just as the deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the rubble-filled area, followed by dead silence.
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MULDER & SCULLY'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, DC
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2008
1600
"I don't know, Mulder. It would pee all over the place and it would take forever to train. And neither of us has a work schedule that lets us come home in the middle of the afternoon to let it out."
"But Aunt Dana, it'd be fun," Matthew protested as he cut a shape out of the cookie dough. He gently placed the shape on the cookie board.
"This isn't our puppy, Matt," Tara chided gently. She loaded another batch of cookies in the oven and closed the door.
"Matt's got a point, though," Mulder said with a smirk in Matt's direction. "It would be fun, Aunt Dana," he grinned. Matt grinned back, and Scully rolled her eyes.
"Do you know how much work a puppy is, Mulder?" Scully demanded.
"About as much work as me," Mulder said with a smile.
Another eye roll. Another cookie shape cut out. Another batch ready for the oven. And then they were done.
They began cleaning up the messy kitchen, still debating the puppy issue.
"It's really what I want for Christmas," Matt said with a suggestive grin in his mom's direction.
Tara laughed, and said, "We've had this discussion, Mister, and I'm not going to have it again."
Before Matt got the chance to reply, they heard the front door open, and Scully headed to the foyer. She smiled when she saw her mom holding Clara, who was fast asleep in her arms.
"The skating lesson did the trick," Maggie said with a smile. "She'll sleep tonight."
Tara entered and smiled at the sight of her five-year-old sleeping peacefully and asked, "How did she do?"
"She did wonderfully—better than the other little ones in the class. She fell a few times but she got right back up."
"She's so close to the ice it doesn't even hurt when she falls," Matt said, rolling his eyes.
Mulder smirked. "Wasn't too long ago that you were that size, Buddy."
"I'll just go up and put her down. We'll wake her for dinner. Speaking of which, have you started it yet?"
"Just got the cookies in the oven. We'll start dinner when they come out," Scully said.
Maggie nodded, and headed upstairs with the sleeping preschooler. Tara followed to help Maggie get Clara out of her snowsuit and into some pajamas. As soon as his mother was out of earshot, Matt turned to Mulder and Scully. "I really think you should consider that puppy. It's an investment for the future."
Scully chuckled. "How's that?" she asked, walking back into the kitchen. Mulder and Matt followed her.
"Well, see, the puppy will grow into a dog. And he'll be big enough to protect the house, see? So you won't need that security system you have. You can just use the dog."
Mulder laughed. "We're thinking about it, Matt, but we haven't come to a decision yet. When we decide, you'll be the first to know."
"Good, because my book says animals are good for kids with ADHD, to add structure and responsibility, and you want me to be structured and responsible, so it would really benefit everyone," he said, trying as hard as he could to keep a straight face.
Scully patted him on the shoulder. "We'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, don't you have a level left on your math game for today? You can finish it before dinner—you're excused to go play."
"Okay," Matt said with a smile, and took off the apron that protected his sweater and jeans from the baking materials. He tossed it on the counter, and took off for the foyer. He dug through his backpack and pulled out his Nintendo DS, and then plopped down on the couch.
Two months ago, the eleven-year-old had been diagnosed with ADHD. After the diagnosis, his grades improved dramatically. Mulder, Scully, Tara, and Maggie had all known he was smart. He just couldn't find a way to concentrate in the more boring subjects at middle school. But the new plan was helping him considerably. He was playing educational video games geared toward pre-teens with ADHD, and learning what he couldn't pay attention to in class. His new binder system eliminated his tendency to lose his homework, and with Tara and the teachers' help, he was integrating himself into the sixth grade community much smoother than before.
Mulder and Scully had both signed on to help, as well. Mulder agreed to coach the kid on athletics, helping him develop a work-out plan that stimulated the cerebellum—a new and highly recommended treatment for people with ADHD. Scully was helping him with science, devoting weekends to taking him to museums where he could actually see what he was supposed to be learning about. The doctors had agreed that he didn't need medication, just a new way of looking at school. And it was working beautifully.
Mulder had gotten him an early Christmas gift—a book geared toward children with ADHD. It was called A Bird's-Eye View of Life with ADD and ADHD: Advice from Young Survivors, and Matt was breezing through it at a pace he only seemed to have when reading kids' novels and comic books.
The diagnosis had gotten Mulder thinking—as a psychologist, he knew the signs of ADHD, and realized that throughout his life, he had mirrored them almost perfectly. Impulsivity, creativity, out-of-the-box thinking, inability to pay attention to certain things no matter how hard he tried, a proclivity towards high-risk behavior, hyper-focusing on certain tasks to an almost obsessive extent, an addictive personality…and alcoholism ran in the family, which was yet another common trait in genetically inherited ADHD.
He had shared this with Scully but they had both agreed that he didn't need to do anything about it. It had pretty much taken care of itself. The X-files offered structure, and Scully was effectively his coach, keeping him on track and forcing him to send in those damn expense reports on time.
"Want to get started on dinner?" Scully asked, pulling Mulder from his train of thought.
"Sure," he said, and pulled the chicken out of the refrigerator. Maggie and Tara joined in after a few minutes, and soon they had the cookies out of the oven and the chicken marinated and ready to go in.
"Mulder, you want to go finish that case report? I'll join you in a few," Scully said.
Mulder moaned. "Scully…"
"It's due tomorrow, Mulder. Come on. Skinner wanted it three days ago. You're just lucky you got an extension."
"He gave me an extension because he was probably too hung over from a holiday party to read it," Mulder muttered as he headed out of the kitchen.
"What was that?" Scully called.
"Nothing," Mulder called back, but couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Skinner drunk.
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GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2008
1800
The light snow glinted off the street lamp outside the room's window. An elderly woman rested on a bed, a rope puzzle next to her left hand. The ropes weren't quite untangled—it was clear she had been working on it, but had grown tired and stopped.
A fifteen-year-old held her tray and walked in quietly. "Mrs. Taperman, it's dinner time," he said softly, trying not to disturb her.
"Nathan? Is it dinner already?"
Nathan smiled. "Yep," he said, and attached the tray to the swinging table next to the bed, and then brought it closer to her. "You'll have to finish your puzzle later."
"When are you going to get a haircut, Nathan?"
The boy chuckled. "You know me, Mrs. Taperman. Probably never."
She gave him a slight 'humph,' but the twinkle in her eye let him know that she was not only alert, but still had her sense of humor. The Alzheimer's still wasn't bad enough to take that from her.
"And coming out in public like that, your shirt tucked out and your pants down by your knees," she continued to kid him, as she raised a shaky hand toward the spoon, and tried to grasp it.
Nathan let her struggle, knowing that Mrs. Taperman didn't want help until she asked for it. It only took another shaky, uncertain motion towards the bowl of soup that she sighed, and said, "I think you'd better help."
"Be glad to, Mrs. Taperman," Nathan said, and took the spoon from her hand gently. He fed her the soup slowly, and glanced out the window.
"Why aren't you with your friends?" She asked suddenly.
Nathan turned back to her, surprised at the question. "I uh…well…I dunno. I belong here."
"You're not earning any money and there's no one here your age."
"Well, there is that comatose kid on the fourth floor," Nathan offered, knowing Mrs. Taperman caught the sarcasm in his voice.
"Don't be smart with me, young man," she told him with a smile. She glanced out the window for a moment, and then turned toward him again. "It's a nice day outside," she said.
He wasn't surprised. In fact, he had learned to go with this kind of conversation long ago. "Warming up," he said, although he knew it was a complete lie.
"Yes, it'll be…were we eating dinner?"
"Yes we were, Mrs. Taperman. Are you full, or would you like more?"
"I'll have more. Nathan, isn't it?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, and forced a smile. This was the saddest part of his job. He watched them get worse. Phase in and out, unable to recall conversation that happened five minutes ago.
A strange man walked by the door just then, and Nathan glanced at him curiously. He had never seen that man before…and he was here every day.
"One sec, Mrs. Taperman. I'll be right back."
He stuck his head out the door, and called, "Hey, dude. You need help or something? This floor plan can be kind of confusing."
The man turned, and stared at Nathan with such ice cold eyes that a shiver ran down the teenager's spine. "No, don't need any help. I'm visiting a relative. Thank you, though," he said in a Louisiana Southern accent.
"Oh…okay. Well…Merry Christmas then." Nathan watched as the odd man turned and continued walking. Shaking his head, and hoping security was on top of their game, he re-entered Mrs. Taperman's room.
"Mrs. Taperman, would you like more soup?"
"Nathan, what are you still doing here? It's almost Christmas. Why don't you go home to your family?"
Nathan sighed. She was determined today. "I'm happy here, Mrs. Taperman. Let's eat your soup, okay?"
She smiled at him, and nodded. "It'll be my Christmas present to you."
Nathan smiled back. "That'd be great," he said, and sat down next to her once more, spoon-feeding the soup to her.
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MULDER & SCULLY'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2008
2000
"Thanks for coming!" Scully called as Maggie, Tara, and the kids headed out the door.
"Bye, Aunt Dana, I love you," Clara said, and offered a hug. "I love you too, Uncle Mulder."
"Good, because I was starting to feel left out," Mulder said, folding his arms in a mock indignant expression. Clara giggled, not fooled in the slightest, and Mulder's expression broke into a smile as he dropped to one knee, allowing her to hug him.
Matt held his Nintendo DS in his gloved hand and his stylus in his other hand, while his glove was stuffed in his pocket. He looked away from the screen only when Tara tapped him on the shoulder. "Matt, say goodbye to Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder."
"Bye," Matt said, his gaze barely leaving the DS for a second.
Mulder chuckled. "Beat that next level for me. I always had trouble with quadratics—maybe you can explain it to me when you're done."
"Quadratics are easy, it's just the variable squared. It's the cubics that are hard," Matt said, furiously pressing the A button with his thumb, and then exclaiming, "Oh, damn."
"Matt!" Tara scolded.
"What? I died."
"Come on," Tara sighed. "Let's get out of your doorjamb before all the heat lets out. Put your other glove on, Matt, until we get the car warmed up."
"We'll see you tomorrow," Maggie said with a smile.
"Bye," Mulder and Scully said simultaneously, and finally closed the door.
Mulder watched them go from the window for a moment, still staring out as the cars pulled out of the driveway and disappeared from sight.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard, "Mulder, you all right?"
He turned to see Scully leaning against the doorframe leading into the kitchen. "You've been standing there for the past ten minutes. I cleaned up the kitchen. Anything wrong?"
Shaking his head, he turned back to the driveway for just a second before he walked towards her. "I don't know. I guess I still can't believe it," he stated.
Scully's eyebrow rose, and she met his gaze. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," he said, and embraced her gently. He rested his chin on top of her head, and they held each other in silence for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Every holiday for the past couple of years, I think about what I have…and really don't deserve."
"Oh, Mulder, we've been over this!" Scully exclaimed, pulling out of the hug. "Why do you keep insisting that you don't deserve this family? You deserve nothing less than a loving family!"
"I don't know, maybe I just keep expecting something bad to happen. You must think I'm an idiot for not being able to just enjoy the holiday."
"No, you're not an idiot," Scully said quietly, hugging him again. "You're too used to tragedy, Mulder. And that in itself is a tragedy. But why don't we try, just for a bit, to forget about that? To ignore the darkness and evil and…bad weather," she said the last with a bit of a chuckle.
Mulder chuckled back.
"Let's just focus on Christmas. On our beautiful tree, our beautiful home. Our family."
He nodded, and closed his eyes. "Sounds like a plan," he said. But for some reason, he wasn't quite satisfied. He had so much to be thankful for. He couldn't help but think about losing it all. And that was unsettling.
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GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2008
2300
Brody Drexler walked into the maintenance closet and closed the door gently behind him. He turned on the lamp, and proceeded to rummage through the equipment. He began setting up the camera gear, opening the laptop lid to reveal a split screen view of various parts of the nursing home. He then set up the scanner, plugging everything in and getting it all secure. It had taken three days to move this equipment in, piece by piece, without anyone noticing. The maintenance closet was supposed to be under renovation, but the maintenance workers were off for Christmas. The residents wouldn't like the noise of construction during their holiday.
So among the sawdust and uninstalled 2x4's, Drexler was able to store a wealth of computer equipment that probably totaled close to the price of a car. Of course, with the Auto Bailout pending, the price of a car wasn't much to compare with.
It took him an hour to set up all the equipment, integrate it with the security cameras, install color viewing on each of the signals, and transmit the signals back to the receiver on his laptop. Another hour was devoted to setting up the rest of the equipment, and readying the camera for its job.
He then took a bulletproof vest from behind the table saw stand and unclipped his visitor's pass from his collar, re-clipping it to his belt before pulling the vest over his head. He secured the straps in place. Then he pulled a black case from behind a pile of wood, and set it on top of the table saw stand. He opened it, revealing several weapons. He slung a P90 automatic weapon over his shoulders, holstered two M9's, and tucked a small .380 into the back of his pants.
Finally, he placed a helmet on top of his head and secured it with a chin strap. Atop the helmet was a standard helmet-cam, just like the ones the soldiers wore during tours of duty. He loaded his suit with extra ammo and then cocked the P90. "Show time," he said with a grin, and pressed the 'play' button on a universal RCA remote control. He stuck the remote in his pocket and kicked the door of the maintenance closet open.
"All right, everyone listen up!" He screamed, and fired off a few shots. "Lights, camera, action, take one, we're rolling, everyone on set!" He laughed joyfully at the terrified expressions on the old people's faces as the staff tried to protect them, stepping in front of them and herding them back to their rooms.
"Now who's the director, huh? I'm in charge, bitches! It's my movie, and it's rollin' now!"
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MULDER & SCULLY'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0300
The phone rang, and Scully moaned and rolled over. She batted in Mulder's general direction, and said, "Phone's ringing."
"Let it ring," Mulder said, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head. He had just gotten to bed an hour ago, after two failed attempts at sleep.
"You suck," Scully muttered, and picked up her receiver. "Hello?" She answered, not bothering to look at the CID but trying her hardest to sound professional.
"Scully, this is Skinner. We have a situation we need you and Mulder on."
"Sir? It's three in the morning. What is it?"
"A hostage situation. Of a very unusual nature. Listen, I need you both at the Garden Court Nursing Home as soon as possible."
Skinner spoke with urgency and what Scully thought sounded like confusion. But it might just be because it was so damn early in the morning.
Mulder rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, giving Scully an inquisitive glance.
"How bad is the hostage situation, Sir?" Scully asked, trying to keep the sleep out of her voice.
"It's extremely complicated. There are ten identified hostage takers in the facility. I'll brief you both when you get here."
"Okay, Sir," she said, curious as to what they were about to get themselves into at 3 in the morning. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."
She hung up the phone, and turned to Mulder. "Ten hostage takers have infiltrated a nursing home. It's practically down the street from our house—Garden Court."
"That place? Why do they need us?"
"Skinner didn't say," Scully said as she slid out of bed. "C'mon, let's go. I just hope this is over by this afternoon so we can get some sleep before Christmas."
Mulder groaned. He still needed to do his Christmas shopping. He had managed to collect gifts for Maggie, Tara, Clara, and Matt, but he had several gifts picked out for Scully. He just hadn't gotten them yet. It had been on his list of things to do and he couldn't believe he had let it go this long. But now here he was, Christmas Eve, with a case prohibiting him from going Christmas shopping.
Maybe this would be over by this afternoon. Then he could go pick up the gifts he had picked out. All but two of the stores had agreed to hold the gifts, but hadn't guaranteed him that a mistake wouldn't occur and his gift would be sold by accident.
Scully turned on the radio, and they listened to Hark the Herald Angels Sing as they got dressed hastily. They practically ran out the door, and into their car. Scully drove toward the nursing home, and sent up a silent prayer that this would be over sooner rather than later.
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GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0330
"So let me get this straight. They all look the same?"
"More than just the same, Agent Scully," the tech said, pointing to the security monitor feeds of the building. "They're all identical. Our tracking programs match their faces perfectly. They're…well, whatever you call ten babies from the same mother. They're that."
"Decuplets," Mulder said, and scratched the back of his head. They were looking at pictures of the culprits, ten identically mustachioed men with thinning brown hair and wild eyes. "So every resident is accounted for on these tapes?"
"All residents and all staff, as far as we know. We've got full video feed of what's going on in there, and it doesn't look good. These guys have positioned themselves in exactly the right places to avoid capture. If we storm the building, we'd trip their silent alarms and trigger a machine gun booby trap. That would give them enough time to take cover and use the oxygen tanks in the hostage areas to create an explosion," Skinner said.
"Bomb suits?" Mulder asked.
"We don't want to risk a firefight, Mulder. There are elderly patients in there," Skinner told him flatly. "Even a well-executed operation still risks hitting one of them."
"Why were we called, Sir? I mean, other than the fact that they're decuplets…"
"Assistant Director Taperman is a friend of mine—as soon as this came in, he asked me to personally handle it. His mother is in this facility, and besides that, there is this," he said, and indicated the computer screen as well.
The tech took his cue. "The decuplets are reciting some kind of script, like it's from a movie. Our limited audio inside the building has given us this." The tech began playing the tape.
"…And I have risen from the dead to show you all how to really make a movie. I am the star, and none of you…"
"This is the second one," the tech said, and started another tape.
"…You people don't know shit. I'm the star of this movie and you guys ain't gonna screw this up this time—I've risen from the dead to show you…"
"They all go on like this," the tech explained. "Some of them use proper English, some of them you can barely understand. But they all say the same thing, at about the same time during the situation. Ten minutes after it started—that's when these were collected."
"And it's as if they were all actors on this film—improvising the script but not varying from the plot," Mulder said.
"And they're filming every second," Skinner said. "Their helmet cams are actually streaming live video to a maintenance closet. They have a computer set up there that's collecting the videos and storing them. We've intercepted their videos and they've caught us. But they don't seem to mind."
"Sir!" a woman called from behind. They turned to see an FBI agent approaching. "Sir, we've got a new video uploading."
"I'm receiving it now," the tech said, but the woman shoved a PDA in front of Skinner's nose. "It's already downloaded here," she said.
Skinner wasted no time, and pressed 'play'. The helmet had been taken off the man's head and he was now addressing the camera.
"Hey, Feds, how ya doin'? All right, let's make this short and sweet. My name's Brody Drexler. I used to make movies, but some asshole cut my life short. I'm back now to show you all how it's really done. For my next scene, I need two agents. Preferably one with medical training. Think you can do that for me? If not, this lady here," he said, pulling an elderly, frantically sobbing woman into the camera's view, "is gonna get a bullet through her pretty little skull. You all move, now, hear? I'll look forward to the addition to my cast."
He placed the helmet back on his head and ended the feed. Skinner tossed the PDA to the tech. "Go through that video and get a frame-by-frame of that last shot. When he puts the helmet back on his head, you have a view of the room."
The tech nodded, said, "Yes, Sir," and then handed the PDA back to the agent that had given it to Skinner in the first place. "I can do that from here," he said, and pointed to his laptop.
"So we can assume that Brody Drexler is the leader. Look into the name Drexler," Skinner said to the agent with the PDA. "Find out who he is, and whether he's a decuplet or if this is some kind of a trick."
"Yes, Sir," she said, and jogged away.
Skinner turned to Scully, and before he could even say the words, Scully said, "I'll go."
"If she's going, I'm the second agent," Mulder stated.
"That makes the most sense," Skinner said with a nod. "You've both got hostage crisis experience, and we don't need you to negotiate, Mulder. We've got a negotiator over there already, setting up a game plan." He indicated to the tent not too far away, where a young agent was pointing to a chalk board, and other agents were nodding in response.
Mulder snorted. "This isn't the Academy, Sir, and we can't afford to have someone green in there. Who picked that kid?"
"I did. He's a highly skilled negotiator, and he'll be guiding you through what to say. You're not to deviate from the plan unless you have information he doesn't, understood?" Skinner demanded.
Mulder rolled his eyes. "Sir, look, if I'm going in with Scully—"
"You'll need to act like her partner and back her up. I need your attention on her location as much as possible. It's very likely he's planning on injuring one of the hostages as part of his movie, and using Scully as a doctor."
"Or he's already injured one of the hostages and it isn't part of the movie, so he needs me to take that person off the scene," Scully suggested.
"He would use one of the nursing home doctors for that," Mulder said, and then turned to Skinner. "Okay. I won't go off the script, unless I've got other information. But if that kid makes a mistake, don't expect me to follow through with it."
Skinner nodded. "Understandable. Go get suited up, Agents. I don't know how long he's going to give us."
Mulder and Scully glanced at each other briefly before heading to the tent to grab gear. They were both thinking the same thing, and it was almost unnecessary when Scully said, "Mulder, I swear to God, if you come home for Christmas in a cast of any kind, I'm going to kick your ass."
"I'll be good, Scully," he promised, but the smirk on his face told her he was in his usual adrenaline-fueled 'impulsive' mood.
"You better be. No heroics."
"None necessary. I can probably talk this guy down. And all his friends will follow."
It was amazing. In a few moments, Scully realized, Mulder had yet again compiled a mental profile of their suspect and was ready to disarm him.
"Besides, you know the notorious rule of law enforcement," Mulder said with a grin.
"What?" Scully asked with dread. He was in 'energetic' mode now, and there was no stopping him.
"The number of suspects is inversely proportionate to the proximity of your backup. In this case, we've got a lot of suspects but we've got even more backup," he said, waving his arms around at the crowd gathered outside the nursing home. "So we should be fine."
"But Mulder, you've forgotten the notorious rule of the X-files."
"Oh?" he asked, snapping his helmet chin strap and sticking the radio in his ear.
"The number of things that go wrong is inversely proportionate to the proximity of Mulder to the suspect," she said with a smirk.
He shoved her gently in reply, and they headed toward the negotiator to be briefed.
"Here we go," Scully said with a sigh.