The weather in D.C. broke just about a week before Christmas. The sleet and ice turned into graceful snowflakes seemingly overnight, and the miserable gray skies went a stark solid white. There was a cheerfulness that pervaded the air as children finished up the last few days of school before the holiday break, and people rushed about to finish up the last of their holiday shopping. Tucked away on a quiet little street, however, the Mulder home was still damp and dark, a spot of irrepressible gloom in this happy little world.

Since Scully had put in a leave of absence from her job Mulder had been spending more time at home, researching on the computer in his office, while Scully went out and scoured the area for any signs of William. They had nothing to go on, no idea where he could be, although they were in agreement that he was most likely not in the Washington D.C. area anymore. The few leads they had found had all ended in dead ends or simply gone cold. John was pushing as much luck as he could without raising too much suspicion in the Missing Persons Department, and Monica was working the case from home on her own as Private Investigator. Skinner was spending a large chunk of his personal time trying to find out anything he could as well, and Mulder had the distinct impression it was putting a strain on his marriage now.

Speaking of strains on marriages, his own relationship with Dana hadn't been so hot lately either. The distance between them had been growing exponentially ever since Billy had disappeared from the park, and they were beginning to argue more lately too. Mulder knew that such things had a tendency to pull people apart, but he had always felt that he and Dana were drawn closer together by William, regardless of the circumstances. Apparently that wasn't the case this time though. They barely spoke any more, never confided their feelings to one another at all. The only time they seemed to talk it was to discuss any information or leads they might have, and even that was in woefully short supply. Any other interaction between them seemed to always end in an argument or outright fight. Mulder's study seemed to have become a second bedroom for him, as lately he'd been spending just as much time sleeping on the small couch in there as he was sleeping in the bedroom he and Dana shared.

Brooding, Mulder scrolled absently through a website. It was basically an on-line version of the trashy tabloid magazines that were popular in the checkout lines of grocery stores. He had learned during his years working in the X-Files Department at the FBI that if the government wanted to discredit something, it got buried in the tabloids, and they had been attempting to cover up and bury the kidnapping for months now.

As he rolled the down the page of the website, a tiny article caught his eye. Strange lights seen in the mountains of France. Mulder clicked on the link and read through the short story quickly. Unusual light displays had been noted high in the French Alps over a period of several days. The phenomena appeared to center over a tiny mountain village, and the gist of the article was that the lights had coincided with the visit of a toy store Santa and could this indicate that it was the real Santa Clause visiting the town? Even Mulder smirked in amusement at this particular premise. At the end of the article was a blurry and very low quality scan of an instant camera photo. It was a shot of the Santa Clause surrounded by several children. It was next to impossible to make out anything apart from colors in the photo; the faces were too blurred and distorted to be useful. But Mulder stared at the picture anyway, studying it. He had a gut feeling there was something important here.

Mulder's eyes passed slowly and carefully over each little face. There really wasn't anything to make out. Not with the quality of the picture. So he saved the image to his computer and began to play with it, to see if he could clean up and sharpen the image.

"You are not concentrating, boy."

William stood up again, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he did so. He barely noticed the blood drying on his hand from his split lip. The cut would be fine in a few moments anyway. What didn't heal so quickly was his pride and dignity. He resumed his defensive stance and waited for his cousin Victor to attack again. Henri watched from the sidelines of the small square where he taught them to grapple and fight in enclosed spaces. It had been his icy voice that had cut through the last bout that William had completely failed in.

Victor shifted weight slowly from foot to foot, circling William like a cat might circle a mouse or spider. His oily black hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail, and for once he was smiling. It was a gruesome sight, that smile. It was cold, cruel, and gloating. He lunged towards William, missing him on purpose, and easily dodging William's return blow. Though Victor could finish Will easily, and normally in fights did his best to end them quickly and efficiently like he was trained to, he preferred to play with William. Wear him down, get as many blows in as possible. Damage his pride as much as he could, prove how much greater he was, how much more skilled. Victor hated his cousin. His next strike missed, as did William's, and then he landed a hard elbow blow to William's ribs, a flat side hand strike up the side of William's head, and a punch straight into his stomach.

William dropped to his knees and doubled over, gasping harshly for breath. The last strike had knocked all the wind out of him. His stomach ached, and tears ran down his face in streams from the strike to his head. He hadn't managed to lay a single blow on Victor at all today. He gritted his teeth and started to stand, but Victor was waiting with a dropping elbow strike to the back of William's head. He fell face down on the ground, arms sprawled.

Henri stopped the fight again. Victor fell back to the sideline, smirking broadly. Henri grabbed the back of William's shirt and hoisted him onto his feet. His eyes burned furiously.

"Alright boy, what's your issue today?" he asked, his voice quiet and low, menacing. "Victor might be better than you, but you and I both know you can hold your own against him better than the disgusting display you've shown today. Now what's the problem? Speak up!" he barked.

William stood at attention. "Yes Sir. I, I've just been thinking about, a lot of things, and not the task at hand." He told his uncle, eyes down cast.

"You look me in the eye when we're speaking, boy." Henri rumbled. "And what does a little boy have to think about that is more important than learning how to defend himself and make himself useful? Hm?"

William forced himself to look his uncle in the eyes. "M-my parents. And did Grandfather get revenge for their murders yet, or are my birth parents still free? And why hasn't Grandfather called, or visited? It's been 6 months, and he promised…"

Henri St. Claire's dreadful eyes narrowed, and he stooped down to William's level, putting his face into the child's. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to.

"Let me make something clear to you here, boy: You don't have any parents. None of you do. You know what you were told, told all along. All you've ever had is Keepers, and what you have now are Trainers. I don't give a damn what kind of nonsense Samantha's been filling your head with about Aunts and Uncles and Grandparents. You were created for a purpose, and you are being trained for that purpose now. Nothing else, no one else, matters a lick. You understanding me, boy?"

William resisted the urge to lick his lips, look at his feet, or nod his head. "Yes Sir." He said quietly.

"Good. Now, your so called 'Grandfather' is a very sick man, and you know that. He keeps tabs on you and the others, and when he can be here, he will be. I had better not hear another word about any parents, or that someone hasn't been calling or visiting, and you damn well better pay attention to what you are being taught at any given moment and what you are being told to do. Is that clear to you boy?"

"Yes Sir." William answered.

Henri stood and straightened up. "Alright then, boy, get back in there with Victor, and I better see some improvement this time, or I'll get in there with you myself and I guarantee you that'll be a hell of a lot harder. Go!"

"Yes Sir." William said, and saluted before turning back to meet Victor as he walked back into the square.

Victor sauntered back over, slowly and lazily, the nasty little smirk still on his face. It was immediately obvious that he was no longer playing with William, but going in for the kill. He stepped forward, feinted, and threw a roundhouse kick to William's head. He caught him up the entire side of his face with the blade of his foot and sent him crashing towards the ground.

As Victor kicked, William envisioned that it was no longer his cousin standing there, but his Father. Mulder. He put his hands out and as they hit the ground he pushed himself up and swung his legs out, sweeping a stunned Victor straight off his feet.

Victor's feet flew out from under them and he hit the ground on his back, slamming his head into the hard packed earth.

William landed in a crouch and immediately launched himself at Victor. He went for every pressure point he could find. Solar Plexus, throat, head, stomach, kidneys; he peppered the older boy with a series of attacks until Henri called the fight off. William sprang away from his cousin as soon as Henri called the end.

For once, Henri was smiling. "Very good, William."

Scully arrived home in an irritable mood. Day after day, nothing. No one had ever seen anything, there were no real leads at all. They hadn't been able to discover anyone fitting his description leaving the D.C. area by car, plane, train, nothing. Not at all. Any of the leads they had uncovered had been mistakes. Even the horribly scarred Cancer Man had not been seen by anyone except for Scully in the back of the van. Worst of all, Dana couldn't shake the depressing idea that they had simply killed him and destroyed all evidence when they realized Jeffrey Spender had equalized his biology and made him useless to the aliens and the syndicate.

She was surprised to find Mulder in apparently high spirits. He flashed her a familiar little grin as she walked in the door. She couldn't even bring herself to make an effort to return the smile.

"I think I might have finally found a lead, Scully!" he told her rapturously. "Come here, look at the picture I found."

Dana followed him back to his office, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. "What is it Mulder? Where did you find it? How did you find it?" she asked him. He ignored her questions and just waved her into the room and over to his computer.

Mulder sat down at the desk and pulled up the website. "I found this as the raw picture, and I just felt like there was something there, so I started to play around with it, enhance it."

As Mulder started to pull up the enhanced picture, Scully felt her heart start to drop. This was all over a hunch he had? She inspected the original photograph closely. There was nothing there that even suggested the age or gender of the people. She could make an educated guess, but that was as good as it got, and that was basically nothing.

"Here, this was the best I could get it to. Look, here, at the little boy sitting on Santa's lap." Mulder said, tapping the screen. "It looks like him, doesn't it? William?"

Scully looked over the picture, studied the little boy Mulder had pointed out closely. It was a much better quality than the original, but the faces were still tiny and the picture was fuzzy. It could have been William, but you couldn't see the picture well enough to say it looked like him anymore than most other little auburn haired boys. The hope that had been rising in her began to flutter away. "Mulder… It's not clear enough. You can't tell anything by this picture."

"I know the picture by itself isn't very good, but I ran it through the facial recognition program. It hit on 8 out of the 12 points!" His tone was still happy and enthusiastic.

Dana's patience was quickly being spent, and she struggled to keep her tone in check. "Mulder, 4 to 6 point matches are average for individuals of the same ethnic background. If you are identifying someone who actually resembles the target, 7 or 8 point matches wouldn't be unusual, maybe not even 9 point matches."

Mulder's disappointment was palpable. "I know it isn't the best it could be, but it's something at least, more than what we've had. I think it's worth looking into, at least."

Scully sighed. "It is worth looking into, Mulder, I just wouldn't exactly call it a 'lead' yet, and I wouldn't get your hopes up too high." She took the comparison results he'd pulled out from him and looked over them. Nothing jumped out at her. "Where'd you find the picture?" she asked him.

Mulder pulled up the website again. "A story on here caught my eye, and when I read it the picture was at the bottom. It was taken in a village in the French Alps. Aurore."

Scully scanned the article and immediately felt her stomach clench in anger. Everything she had been holding in, the anger and fury, the guilt, the shame, the utter defeat and hopelessness suddenly couldn't be contained anymore, and she lashed out at him in her pain and fury.

"So that's what this is all about?" she asked, her lips tight, her eyes narrowed and cold, her voice like ice. "Strange lights in the sky. That's what this is all about. You want to go chase down a ghost lead halfway across the world, and now I know why. It all goes back to chasing down your little green men, doesn't it Mulder? That's where it always goes back to, where it will always go. Not even finding your son is more important than your damn aliens!" Her voice rose to an angry wavering shout that ended in a few moments of stunned absolute silence.

Mulder's mouth dropped in a look of pure horror. "What? Scully, no, that, that isn't it at all." He groped helplessly, not even able to really comprehend the cruel accusation. "That story isn't even about aliens, didn't you read it? They were saying the lights meant the toy store Santa was real-How could you say that I don't care about finding William?" he asked suddenly, quietly, as it began to sink in. "How could you even think that?"

Scully didn't back down this time, didn't avert her eyes in shame. She was hurting too much to spare his feelings now, and she wanted to hurt him. "Because it's the truth Mulder." She snapped at him, her voice a snarl. "It's always been the truth. You don't care about William, you don't care about finding him. All you care about is proving to the world that you're not crazy and that you've been right all along, no matter who gets pushed aside or trampled along the way." Dana glared at him furiously and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. The words were choppy but pointed. "My son is not going to be one of the people you run over. You chase your aliens; I'm finding my son!"

Mulder stared at her. "Scully…" he said softly, hurt and confusion in his face. But only her burning rage looked back at him, no remorse or regret there, nothing relenting. He turned and walked out of the room, put on his jacket. She watched him from the doorway of the study. He paused with the front door open and looked back at her. "I love him. I love you and William both, and I'm going to bring him home. It's all I want, finding our son. Nothing else means anything to me." She didn't answer him, and he turned and walked out the door and into the snow.

Scully walked down the hall and stood looking out the window. She watched him pull out of the driveway and kept looking until his tail lights disappeared down the street. She sat on the couch, and the silence of the house swelled and engulfed her. She had never felt more empty and alone in her life. She curled up into the corner of the couch, buried her face in her arms, and cried. She continued to sob for a long time after she had fallen asleep. Outside, the snow continued to fall.