A/N: Okay, let's try this again. Timeline begins immediately post-Decisions & Distractions. I know it's been forever, so rereading a little may be helpful. Please remember that at this point in the series, I'm working with more than a dozen characters, and I'm trying to give them all equal time, so have patience for your favorites. If you're only all about the BA, this might not be for you.

Lupo POV

"Tell me what happened."

"That's the thing. I don't know."

Cecilia's response wasn't what I was looking for, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she probably already reached full panic mode before she made the decision to call me, which means her brain isn't working at maximum capacity. I need to cut her some slack.

I felt Connie come up behind me and she rested her palm against my back, so I turned to face her, hoping to get some sort of calming effect just from looking at her face.

Otherwise Cecilia and I might reach the meltdown stage together.

It worked. For whatever reason, just looking at Connie helps me find my balance.

"It's Mulder?" she whispered.

I shook my head and whispered Cecilia and then I took another breath as I put the phone on speaker, and then I said to Cecilia, "Tell me the last thing you do know."

"Well," she began in a shaky voice. "Earlier, Mulder had an idea for how to connect the dots in the search for my father. You know, he was thinking genesis, not contemporary, right? So he figured he could stalk the numbers, maybe tweak the markers a little, thinking it might send up the garrison, right?"

If the situation weren't so grave, I'd be laughing my ass off. Because I never imagined there could be another person on this earth who would speak just like Mulder.

And then that thought had my gut clenching because I have no idea where he is right now, and he's so damn naïve and not street savvy, and if someone's hurt him…

"So he revamped the search. And then what?" Connie prompted steadily, and God, I love her for being so level-headed. Well, for a million other reasons, too, but her cool in a crisis is currently at the top of the list.

"Well, um…we hadn't eaten anything since last night, so we were going to run out while his toaster was jamming, but it pinged faster than we expected, and he was so excited about it…"

She trailed off, her voice cracking on the last few words, and I'm dying here because if she can't finish the recount in the next minute, I'm just going to hang up and call the Boston Police, but then mercifully, she continued.

"So I told him to stay while I went out for food. I said it would only take me ten minutes, and he made a joke, saying in that amount of time, he could have my dad's high school transcripts. But it took me more like twenty minutes because there was a line at the café and the woman in front of me didn't have any cash and her credit card was declined and she wouldn't just get out of line so that the people behind her could pay while she figured out what to do, and…and…when I got back, he was gone."

"What about your front door? Was it forced open?"

"No. But it wasn't locked, either. And I locked it when I left."

"What time did you get back?" I asked carefully, wondering if he could've gone to catch up with her, to see what was taking so long, or maybe he took her dog for a walk, or just went for a walk himself, and he's going to turn up at any minute.

"An hour ago," she answered.

Could he be trying to catch the next train back to New York? Was he not having as much fun with Cecilia as it seemed?

"And he left his cell phone," Connie stated, and damn if I hadn't forgotten that glaring detail because Mulder doesn't go anywhere without his cell phone.

"Yes. And his Mac. And all of his stuff. I mean, he didn't leave to get away from me, if that's what you're thinking," she remarked, and I wouldn't blame her for feeling a little offended at the insinuation, but she doesn't sound it. She doesn't sound anything but worried. "Something happened."

The really scary thing is that I think she's right.

So that's how we found ourselves screaming up I-95, heading for Boston.

And yes, I called the BPD.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit at home with my thumb up my ass while they look for him. Because they're not going to look for a grown man who's only been missing for a little more than an hour without any sign of foul play.

They'll wait at least another forty-seven hours.

So then I called Bobby.

"Where are you?" I asked when he answered.

"New London," he responded immediately, clearly picking up on the urgency in my tone. "Halfway back to the city. Why?"

"Cecilia called. Mulder's missing."

"Missing?" he repeated. "Since when?"

I went over the details with him, and then asked, "So what do you think? Any way this Giovanni Pirelli guy had a trap on a track? Do you know anything about him yet?"

Because that's who Mulder and Cecilia stumbled across as her potential father.

And Giovanni Pirelli is a very bad guy.

They got the hit when they were running her DNA against CODIS, although the sample in the system was supposedly damaged, meaning it could've created a false positive. The evidence of compromise was enough for a jury to find Pirelli innocent of his most recent charges, but if his DNA popped as a match to Cecilia's, then as far as I'm concerned, the odds are pretty good in favor of him being the father.

Apparently Mulder said the same thing.

And like I said, Pirelli isn't one of the good guys. He's a mobster, and not an honorable one like O'Connor.

And even though I don't think Cecilia knows the full extent of her possible dad's smarminess, she was still a little freaked out by the thought that her father's DNA was taken during an investigation.

Which is what prompted the call to Bobby last night.

He told them he'd find out more details on Pirelli when they got back to New York, and possibly find a way to get a DNA sample from the Massachusetts prison system so that a more definitive test can be run. So that she'll know for sure.

In the meantime, Mulder did a little more research to find out what he could about Pirelli.

Most recently, he stood trial for a triple homicide. That's the one where the DNA sample contamination finagled an acquittal.

He also spent the majority of the nineties doing a stretch in MCI-Cedar Junction, formerly known as Walpole. It houses the most violent felons in Massachusetts, and apparently Pirelli fit right in.

"He could tell that I was upset at the idea of someone like him being my father," Cecilia told me earlier, when we were still on the phone. "So he was trying to see if he could track Pirelli's whereabouts thirty years ago, to see if his and my mother's paths could've crossed. I think he was hoping to find out that they were in different time zones or something."

"That's what he was working on when you left the apartment?" I asked her.

"Yes. He was going through Pirelli's bank records, I think, to see if he spent any time in Martinique around the time of my conception. Because we already found out that Vanessa spent two weeks there, on an extended spring break, but it doesn't really make sense that a guy like him would be in a place like that, does it? Or that he'd manage to hook up with a woman like Vanessa?"

Her vulnerability tugged at my heartstrings, and it was easy to forget that she's only ten years younger than me. She seems more like Mulder – much, much younger than her years.

So I didn't tell her what I really think.

That teenagers spring breaking in Martinique make bad decisions. Especially when said teenager is a politician's spoiled brat daughter.

And that Martinique used to be a popular hub for the transporting of cocaine from South America, which is the perfect explanation for why a guy like Pirelli might be hanging around.

And that the likelihood of the DNA hit coming back inaccurate is negligible.

But I didn't say any of that.

Instead I assured her that we'd be in Boston as soon as humanly possible, and until then, she should stay calm and keep me posted if anything new develops.

"We'll turn around," Bobby offered after we discussed possibilities.

"No, it's fine. I'll handle it."

"Lupo, it's not a big deal. We're ninety minutes away. Probably closer than you."

"And you all have to work tomorrow," I reminded him. "Ross will blow a gasket if five of his detectives are AWOL."

"What do you think he'll do if something happens to Mulder?" he posed rationally, and that tight, nauseous feeling stormed through me again.

"It could be nothing," I insisted, and I'm not sure why I don't want them involved, except that maybe it's because if I get everyone involved, then it makes this whole thing real, and I don't want it to be real.

I want to show up at Cecilia's place and find Mulder sitting in her apartment, with a smile on his face, and this entire thing was just some big misunderstanding.

Because the alternative is terrifying.

"You go check it out," he conceded. "But if it turns into something, you call immediately. We'll use John's chopper and we can be up there in an hour."

"Deal."

I hung up with him and then clenched the wheel tightly in spite of my concerted effort to stay calm.

"Am I overreacting?" I asked Connie as I whizzed through traffic.

"I hope so," she answered.

"Tell me what Mike said about Flowers," I said, determined to take my mind off Mulder because there sure as hell isn't anything I can do about him from here.

Of course, I can't do anything about Flowers either, but at least it'll give us something else to talk about.

"He's outraged, just like we are. And he feels responsible."

"For the escape? How is that possibly his fault?"

She gave me a sad smile and then patted her hand on my leg as she said, "He's a lot like you. Takes on the weight of the world. Tell me you're not blaming yourself for Mulder."

Because I encouraged him to go.

Because I didn't better prepare him for the real world.

Because…

"Lupo," she said, interrupting my internal barrage of regrets.

"I know it's not my fault," I said instantly. "I just…I mean, I wish I'd taught him more about…well, everything."

"We've only known him a few months," she reminded me. "Not even that, really. You can't expect to catch him up on twenty-four years of life lessons."

"I know," I sighed.

"Besides, he was in prison, right?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"I'm betting he's craftier than we give him credit. And we already know he's a fighter."

Because of Carl Babbitt, the asshole who shot Mulder.

But that tragedy almost seemed to kick-start Mulder's life.

He made a miraculous recovery after nearly bleeding out, and now he has everything he wants in life…a great job, his own place, and a girlfriend.

It just wouldn't be fair for something to happen to him now before he has the chance to enjoy it.

And really, what could've happened?

Could Pirelli have the kind of sophisticated security system that would flag him anytime someone accessed his information?

Or is it someone else Mulder's hacked in the past who finally caught up to him?

Or maybe just a random home invasion turned kidnapping?

Yeah, because that happens all the time, I mocked myself.

"Lupo," Connie said in a patient but firm voice. "I'm losing you again."

"No," I replied as I settled my hand over top of hers. "You're right. He's going to be fine."

We were quiet for the rest of the drive, and as we reached the Boston city limits, Connie's cell phone rang.

"It's Mike," she said as she glanced at the display. "We're due some good news, don't you think? Maybe they've caught up to Flowers already."

I half-listened to her end of the conversation while going from memory on the directions to Cecilia's apartment, and as I pulled up outside her building, Connie hung up the phone.

"Well that's something I never expected to hear," she said.

"Good news?"

"Yes and no. He's still on the run, but…well, I don't know if I should even tell you."

I glanced over at her questioningly as I pulled the keys from the ignition, and I like that she has a smile playing on her lips. It helps take the paralyzing fear from the situation.

"Okay, but if you try to get an official statement from me, I'll plead the fifth," she continued, and then she paused dramatically before saying, "Mike committed B&E."

"He did what?" I practically shouted.

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "He and Jennifer went into Schmenke's place to see what they could find."

"And?"

"They found faked identification for Flowers, so they think he might try to go there to pick them up. He's going to have Detective Benson execute an official search and then stake out the place to see if they can catch him."

"Well, that's definitely something," I agreed. "Wow, I didn't think Cutter had it in him."

"I think Jennifer might be just the right kind of bad influence he needs," she grinned. Then she leaned over and kissed me quickly before saying, "Let's go upstairs. Twenty bucks says he's either back, or she's heard from him and he's on his way."

I'd never bet against Connie. She's too smart.

But my heart dropped when Cecilia opened the door to her apartment. She was clearly distraught, with silent tears streaming down her cheeks and Mulder's cell phone still in her hand, as though she was afraid to let go.

"What happened? Did you hear something?" I asked quickly.

She nodded, but then instead of offering any more of a response to my desperate question, she threw her arms around me and cried.

TBC...

Next up: Alex