Character: Fox Mulder

Fandom: The X-Files

Rating: PG-13

Prompt: Nergal: You've come back to save the children?

Mandy: Yeah, what's up with that?

Grim: Umm... well... I'm just taking them with me so I can eat them later.

Setting: Pilot

There was one comfort in my life…the nightmare hadn't changed in twenty years.

"Fox, it's your move." Samantha crossed her skinny arms across her nightgown, pissed off I was taking my sweet time. It was part of the game. Eight-year-olds had no patience, if I waited her out, she'd give something away.

"No cheating, dork," her green eyes narrowed at me as I coolly studied her pieces. Sam was always predictable, easy to read. She as just a kid, she hadn't learned that the point of Stratego was strategy. She usually stuck her flag in the bottom, left corner, surrounded by enough bombs to blow up a third-world country. I let my eyes flicker there briefly as she scrunched her nose.

Predictable…my sister, if anything, was predictable.

"If you cheat, I'll tell Mom," she hissed.

"And she'll do what," I taunted, reaching for a piece and placing it on the board again. "Your move, baby."

"Stop calling me baby," she demanded, carelessly grabbing one of her pieces and moving it, without even thinking about what she was doing. God, it was boring playing with her.

"God, you're bad at this."

"Don't say God's name in vain, Foxy." She knew I hated that. I threw a discarded piece at her.

"Its not like we go to church anyway, who the fuck cares?"

I might as well have said I drowned kittens in the bathtub and shot puppies. Her eyes rounded like saucers in her pointed face as one finger pointed at me as if I'd said that in the middle of Sunday School. "You'll be in so much trouble," she moaned half in warning, half in delight at the idea.

"Not if I you don't tell."

"Make me," she snickered, popping up and dancing away from the board, preparing for a fight. Honestly, she was tiny, and I was big…or bigger. Not as big as my Dad yet, but nearly as tall as Mom, even at twelve. It was nothing to sit on Samantha until she squealed and gave in. But it was almost eight, why bother? The Magician was coming on anyway.

"You'll be in bed when she gets in anyway." See, I can show some maturity. I am growing up; see how adult I can be?

"Don't change the channel," Sam shrieked, throwing herself at the television before I could reach it. "I want to watch this show."

"Dad said I could watch The Magician." He hadn't, but it was the only counter I had for screaming, whining, annoying little sister.

"I'm telling Mom," she howled, grabbing for my arm on the TV dial in a futile attempt to stop me from having my way. Seriously, you'd have thought she'd learn by now I'm older, bigger, smarter, and can beat her ass. I wonder sometimes if she's really my parent's child or not, she's too stupid to be my sister.

"Quit being a buttmunch!" She stomped her feet as if this would somehow magically make me do what she wanted. It didn't. So she chose to scream at me, the high pitched, annoying, nails-on-a-chalkboard noise that got under my skin, wormed into my brain, and usually caused me to either pop her or give in.

I probably would have smacked her if the lights hadn't gone out.

"Fox," Samantha's angry shrieks dissolved into a frightened whimper as I blinked, my eyes trying to adjust to the sudden dark. "What's going on?"

"Probably just the power out let me go get a flash…"

The windows flood with light so white it sears my eyes as I cover them, Samantha's cries now terrified beside me.

"Fox…what's going on?"

I can't see, but I can hear her as she screams and I fight to try and make sense of what is going on. Head pounding, I squint through the light surrounding me, as my sister floats away, limp as a dishrag in the middle of the air, nothing supporting her as her pale, flowered nightgown trailed in the air.

This isn't happening, this couldn't be happening, this isn't real….

"Samantha!" My voice catches, rough and tripping as I stumble backwards, falling, trying to get to anything that will help…a phone, the police? My parents were next door, I could call them; tell them what was going on, they could stop this.

That's when I saw them. Tall, dark shapes in the white, faceless except for long, thin arms and legs, misshapen heads. Monsters…monsters like I had seen in my nightmares. Monsters had come to take my sister away.

My father's gun was in a box on a shelf so high I couldn't reach it without climbing. I wasn't tall enough to manage it as it skittered off my fingertips and fell, broken, to the floor. It's a wonder that the gun didn't go off then, but I snagged it in my childish hands, trying to hold it and aim like my father taught me, but I failed. Even as I held the weapon up, something stopped me, caused me to freeze, too terrified to breath almost as my sister screamed my name over and over, pleading for my help.

Fox….Fox help me! Fox!

"This is Fox Mulder, I'm not in right now, leave a message."

Samantha's name dies on my lips, my heart racing as my machine beeps loud enough to wake the dead.

"Agent Mulder, this is Terry from Chief Blevins office. He's asked me to remind you that you had a 9 AM meeting this morning…."

Blevins, calling at home….shit! My eyes snap open, looking at my watch. Nine fifteen, fucking hell.

"I'm sure that something has come up unexpectedly, please call me back when you get this message so we can reschedule your meeting."

Fucking hell. I scrub at my perspiration-covered face, the blinding light and echo of my sister's screams still reverberating in my soul. Just great, a meeting with the boss who hates me, and now I'm late. No matter how polite Blevins' secretary was being, I could see his beady-eyed disapproval through that message. Another fuck up, another waste of FBI resources, the lecture was so old now I wondered why he even called a meeting. What would the punishment be this time, I wondered, the rack? Perhaps a caning? I couldn't get lucky enough to get a pretty, blonde intern and a cat-o-nine tails.

Yesterday's dress shirt clung to my sticky skin, wet through with sweat. Yeah, Blevins wasn't getting me for his dressing down session till I cleaned up for it at least. Make an impression when they are kicking you in the balls, Mulder. Don't let the man see you sweat. Blevins was a monkey anyway, pissed off that his perfect section was being ruined by one maverick agent who had a penchant for chases filled with UFO sightings and haunted houses, just shut up, smile, make him happy, I could get back to the basement and to my work.

As long as he leaves me alone to do my work in peace, he can fuck me up the ass all he wants.