If Scully had wanted a few days of peace and quiet back home, she was sorely disappointed on her return to D.C. She was afforded the mercy of one night's sleep in her own bed before urgent summons had her back at the Bureau. Another child had gone missing, she and Mulder were quickly briefed. Whatever they had to say about that in how it related to the X-Files, management didn't really care. The problem was, this time, a child had been reported missing, by his family.
The urgency of the problem? It was the son of an important diplomat in New York, there for a meeting of the U.N. Security Council. "This needs to be solved and it needs to be solved now, Scully, Mulder," their superiors had directed them. "Quietly and with discretion. Apparently you two already have the market cornered on weird disappearances, so fix this." Scully had assured that they would find out what had happened as quickly and discretely as possible. Mulder said nothing, he merely munched more sunflower seeds.
Scully was a little morose to note that the problem was considered urgent enough to drag her out of bed on her day off, but not urgent enough to buy them plane tickets. No, it was a four and a half hour train ride from the capital to Penn Station for the pair of them – but maybe that was a blessing in disguise, she thought, as she flipped through the file given to them by management. This newest twist in an already twisted case was...confusing, to say the least.
"Okay, Mulder, let's go over the facts."
"Uh huh." Her partner had picked up a new fantasy book, she noted. This one was "Faeries: Their Lives and Secrets." Mulder on faeries, that was all Scully needed.
"Paperwork from ICE confirms that Ariq Ahmed, his wife and his two sons entered the country three weeks ago. Two days ago, Ahmed reports his elder son, Anwer, missing. NYPD wants to question the younger son – the Ahmeds have no idea what they're talking about."
"Someone wished away the baby," Mulder murmured, never looking up from his book. "But they remember Anwer."
"It's possible that Anwer's disappearance has nothing to do with that of his younger brother."
That did get Mulder's attention, and he fixed his younger partner with a nearly withering look. "Scully: you mean to tell me you believe in a massive coincidence, but you don't believe in Goblin Kings?"
The woman huffed, folding her arms across her breast. "How is it that I'm the unreasonable one in this conversation?"
"The real question is – who did the wishing? We get the answer to that, we may find out more about where both boys have landed."
"If they're together."
Mulder shrugged. "Right." And with that, he was back to his book. Scully had to just stare at him a minute: one minute he could be bouncing with manic energy with a new break in a strange case, the next he could be tuning out the world and focusing on seemingly the most random of details. She wasn't sure she was ever going to figure Fox Mulder out. She had just decided she probably never would when he did another one of his strange things; Mulder picked his head up from his book with a sudden grin, and in a voice almost too quiet to hear, whispered, "Goblin King, Goblin King..."
"What?" Scully asked, blinking.
"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, I wish..."
"Wish what? Mulder, what are you talking about?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing, Scully." Her partner grinned again, but it was more to himself, and he settled back into his book with the contentment of the cat who had caught the canary.
…
Mulder's behavior was very weird when the train pulled into Pennsylvania Station in the late afternoon. Well, even weirder than it usually was. He made a big show of looking for his bag along the luggage rack, even though Scully could see it clear as day. "Well, Scully, have the goblins made off with our luggage?"
"Mulder, it's right-"
He covered her pointing finger with his hand, a wicked smirk playing along his full mouth. "Why, I wish the Goblin King would...oh, here it is!" Scully just stared at him, mouth parted.
The odd behavior did not stop there. He was absolutely insistent that he be the one to flag a taxi when they'd climbed the stairs back to the semi-fresh air of the world above; if they had to visit New York, fall was probably the best time for it, Scully considered. The worst of the heat and humidity was over, and it was actually a very beautiful place in the changing colors, warm and inviting. But that wasn't the point – the point was that Mulder was very bad at hailing cabs. "Mulder, just let me do it," she huffed, about to step off the curb. "It's not like it's hard-"
"Scully." He grinned at her, and she stepped back, totally confused. "Trust me, hey? Goblin King, Goblin King..."
"Would you shut up about the stupid Goblin King? You're like a broken record today."
He was at last successful in flagging down a passing yellow cab, and he held the door open for her like a true gentleman – which did nothing to assuage the young woman's fears. "Here we go, Scully."
"Mulder," she asked him when he had scooted next to her on the bench seat and given the driver directions to their hotel. "Why are you so certain this Goblin King story is the truth?"
"Why are you so certain it's not?" he returned to her, popping a fistful of sunflower seeds into his mouth. Looking at the sticky cab floor, Scully didn't think the addition of a few hulls would be noticed.
"Because it's ridiculous, for a start."
"Scully," Mulder shook his head, speaking around a mouthful of seeds. "You're a student of physics. What about the many-worlds interpretation? You don't think there's any possibility that there are an infinite number of alternate realities spinning away in space?"
"That's quantum theory," she replied to his question with a sigh, plucking a missed seed off his jacket. "That has nothing to do with missing children."
"But isn't is possible that there's a version of reality where a Goblin King is stealing wished away children?"
"I can't believe I am having this conversatio-"
"Isn't it?" he pressed her, his hazel eyes glittering in the dying light of the afternoon.
Scully paused and sighed again. "Is it possible? Maybe. But without any kind of compelling concrete evidence, I'd say that there are other, more rational explanations that are far more plausible."
"What about the kids getting what they wished for, isn't that compelling?"
"No, it's not. It's entirely possible that it's entirely coincidental. Lightning does sometimes strike the same place twice, you know."
"And everyone who's ever met these kids forgetting them, is that coincidental?"
"Just because I don't have the answer doesn't mean that there isn't a good one out there, Mulder."
"You're totally right," he nodded, swallowing the last of his mouthful of seeds. "I just happen to think that a very good explanation would be-" Before Scully could stop him, her partner had rolled down the window and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Goblin King!"
"Mulder!" The cab driver flicked his glance up at the pair through the rear view mirror – and shrugged. It was New York, he'd seen stranger things. The mortified Agent Scully, however, was dragging her co-worker's head back from the cab window. "Have you taken total leave of your senses!"
"Just trying to make a break in the case, Scully," he flopped back against the torn seat of the cab, grinning at her.
"I think you're trying to make me prematurely grey."
"No reason to be nervous – you don't believe in goblins anyway." Before she could come up with a witty retort, Mulder pointed out the window. "Ah look, here we are, home, sweet home."
The Starwood was a beautiful, modern highrise of glittering glass panes, situated not three blocks from the Rockefeller Plaza, and its staff seemed inordinately pleased to be hosting two agents of the federal government on what was no doubt important, official business. Scully just rubbed her temples as she let Mulder take care of checking them in: she somehow doubted they'd have been quite so enamored with their guests if they knew just what sort of mission was bringing them there.
"You're on floor thirteen, Agent Mulder," a college-age bellhop in a smartly starched uniform was smiling, handing the man his keys. "Rooms thirteen-six and thirteen-seven. Can I help you take your bags up?"
"Thanks, but we got it," Mulder assured the young man, shouldering most of what little luggage they'd brought himself. Scully gave him a little smile as they entered the elegant elevator, carrying their briefcases and her clunky laptop bag.
"Well, I guess thanks are in order after all."
"Nah," Mulder shrugged, adjusting the way his duffel bag hung on his shoulder. "I just didn't want to give him a tip." The discussion on the ride up turned far more mundane, making plans to get food before they spent the entire night pouring over documents and making interrogation plans. They were in the process of deciding between Thai and Italian when Scully opened her hotel room door-
And nearly screamed in surprise.
The place was a wreck: a table had been completely overturned, the linens were all pulled clean off the bed, pillows were torn and their feathers scattered every which way. Someone had taken the provided shampoos and rubbed them generously into the carpeting – and there, sitting on the windowsill, its eyes firmly fixed on the woman at the doorway, sat a large, tawny barn owl.
If Scully were a woman given to fits of fancy, she might have even said it was glaring at her.
Instead, she shouted, "Mulder!" who dropped the bags and came running to her side. Neither removed their side arms, there seemed little point for an owl, and the creature took off into the dusky night as soon as the man made it to her side anyway. "Can you believe..." Scully was continuing in frustration, a delicate hand woven into her hair and tugging gently in annoyance. "For Christ's sake. I'm going to call the management."
"Wait, Scully." Mulder had hold of her elbow and was pointing at a spot on the dresser, the only part of the room that hadn't been utterly ruined. "Look." She did look, and sitting there, glittering in the light that was thrown carelessly about the room from overturned lamps, sat one perfect, shimmering crystal ball.