Dos_Diablos: heh heh heh…
1@/\/61y_15_60D: hey! whoa! what is that?!
Dos_Diablos: just a little payback for the "great mage slaughter" you pulled off last game…
1@/\/61y_15_60D: how the hell did you get level 13 mech?
Dos_Diablos: you dont have one? ha ha
Dos_Diablos: david says you really suck…
1@/\/61y_15_60D: im going easy on you, i didnt know that little punk was a pro at this! i assumed he was as bad as you.
Dos_Diablos: hey, wasn't that your "unconquerable solar canon" our mech just toppled?
1@/\/61y_15_60D: …oh you two are so toast now…
"What are you doing in here? You aren't showing him more pornography, are you, Fox?" Scully asked, walking into the room. David and Mulder were sitting side-by-side in front of the computer. They had been there for the last hour, often laughing wickedly with Mulder occasionally shouting profanity.
"We're playing Galaxy Cross and beating this one guy pretty badly. It's funny, because he kept rubbing in how his Yurni Gladiators could rip through an entire fleet of level fifteen Land Tanks," David replied.
"And we slaughtered his entire platoon with one level seven Raptor Land Cruiser," Mulder finished. They high-fived each other.
"Wouldn't it be more productive if you found something that required more…physical… capabilities to do? For instance, the laundry perhaps?" she replied.
"Aw, Dana, come on. We want to watch him suffer. We already mopped and vacuumed the downstairs," David pleaded.
"If you think about it," Mulder started, "life is nothing more than a game. We must constantly keep our eyes open, always watching with our finger over the 'go' button. Fear is always there, fear of staying in one spot for too long, fear of being closed in so that there is no escape. What happens if you do not keep moving forward? The same thing that happens when you move forward blindly; you get caught, and surrounded, bogged down by a dead end job, suffocated by a family, or trapped by Yurni Gladiators. Then what do you do? There are two options: you can give up hope while you die a slow and anguished death, or you can fire up your photon torpedoes and kick some serious ass!"
"Wow! You just took out his entire squadron!" David exclaimed with amazement.
"And I hope you have learned an important lesson from this," Mulder said.
"You know, dear," Scully said, still not use to calling her partner by his first name, "I don't think 'photon torpedoes' are a conventional way to move up in the work place. And the laundry is not getting-" she was interrupted by the phone ringing. "We'll finish this discussion when I get back," she said.
In the kitchen, the phone sat on the table, leftover from when they ordered pizza earlier in the evening. She put it to her ear and answered, "Mulder residence."
"Agent Scully?" the voice on the other end replied.
"Assistant Director Skinner, good evening, sir," she replied, instinctively taking the phone upstairs so David would not walk in.
"How is the case going?" Skinner asked, as her feet quietly carried her up the brown, soft steps.
David leaned back in his chair and started to reach for his Mountain Dew. The computer table was covered with almost sixteen empty cans already, and looking at them now, he suddenly had to go. Bad.
"Hey, Fox," he said, "I'm going to the bathroom. Watch his Destroyers. He's been keeping them in the back for some while, and I think he's up to something."
"You're right, he is up to something. Hey, wait," Mulder called as David started to walk out of the room. "When did we mop?"
"Uhh…about an hour ago?"
"Where did we knock the bucket over at?"
"The bathroom. I remember Dana being pi...ticked…when she saw the rug. The floor's probably still wet..."
"You better use the one upstairs then."
"Agent Scully, is something the matter?" Skinner asked.
"No," she lied, sitting down on the bed. It's not bothering me. The perfect house, the family. I don't care at all, right? It's not everything that I have imagined; it doesn't give me the comfort and stability that I have sought all of my life for. "I just have a headache, that's all." How much longer can I lie to myself?
"Well then, why don't you tell me what progress you and Mulder are making?"
David leaned against the bathroom counter, pushing his hair back, and staring into his reflection in the mirror. He smiled. That was something he did not think he would be doing a week ago. Fox and Dana were such nice people. They cared about him, they really did; he could feel it. He could trust them, he was safe here, and he would not have to worry about anything ever again. "I love it here," he said to the person in the mirror.
He smiled back in reply.
David raised his eyebrow and paused as he stepped into the hall. He thought he heard a voice, Dana's, muffled, but just barely audible. Who could she be talking to? he wondered. Her voice was coming from the bedroom Fox and her shared. Slowly and in silence, David peeked in. Dana sat on the bed, talking into the cordless phone. Oh, he thought, feeling ashamed that he had spied on her. He started to turn around to go back downstairs, but suddenly stopped. Did she just say my name?
"I think we're going to need another week, at least, with David in order for us to be certain about anything. I think he trusts us, so I don't think it will be too hard to get information about the murders from him. In addition, we believe that he was abused by his parents, or at least his mother; that is the only motive we have been able to establish thus far."
"What about his sister?"
Silence.
"Agent Scully, are you still there?" Skinner asked.
"I-I'm sorry. I just…I had that feeling that someone was watching me," she said, looking towards the doorway. It had been a lie before, but now her head was really starting to hurt. She remembered the pain relievers in the nightstand drawer. "Mulder doesn't think he murdered his sister. From my interactions with David, I would have to agree with him."
She pulled on the handle. The drawer did not move. She pulled again, harder. Still, it did not budge. They had locked the drawer after David found the gun; she had forgotten that. The key rested inside the top drawer of the dresser, and she hastily snatched it up.
"So if David didn't murder his sister, who did?"
"I don't know," Scully replied, thrusting the key into the lock, "Mulder and I have yet to discuss that." The key turned quicker than Scully expected. She pulled it out and examined it.
The end was covered with black film, the same that had been on the broom handle. She kneeled down, and examined the keyhole. It looked like someone had taken a blowtorch to it.
The drawer opened with more ease than it should have. "Assistant Director," Scully said, keeping her voice as controlled as possible as she peered inside, "I'll call you back."
"Agent Scully, what is it?" The only answer Walter Skinner received was the click as Scully switched off the phone.
"Mulder," Scully said, bursting into the room where Mulder still sat, occupied by the computer game.
"Now now, darling pie, that's no way to talk to your husband," he replied.
"Cut the crap, Mulder, this isn't a time for jokes. Where's David?"
Obviously, something was wrong. "He went to the bathroom. Why?"
"Mulder, your gun is missing."
"Shi-... David!" Mulder shouted, rising quickly out of his chair. He stepped up to the foot of the stairs and called up, "David!"
The front door slammed.
"Shit," Mulder mumbled, stumbling through the den. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Scully had ran up the stairs. Where is she going? He did not have time to think about it as rain met him in the face at the front step. Through the night and storm, he could make out a small shadow running up the sidewalk. "David!" he called and chased after him.
This bad. Real bad. He's a lost, frightened little boy; he's still a child. But he's possibly armed, and, as much as I don't want to believe it, he is dangerous, Scully's mind raced as she thrust her hand under the bed, and the cool metal it met burned her palm.
He's lost, scared. He's a frightened child alone in the world, alone in his world; he sees no hope but to keep running. He's afraid and confused, Mulder reasoned. Ahead of him, he saw David slip and fall on the unforgiving concrete. The boy got up slowly, and gripped his arm frantically. He was hurt, but he did not stop to catch his breath.
He just ran.
Mulder saw the shadow cloaked shapes of the park coming into view. He watched as the shadows of the tall, dark trees swallowed the figure of the fleeing youth. Taking a deep breath, Mulder let the trees swallow him as well.
Mulder looked around. He was in a circular area, surrounded by trees. The only thing he could see besides the fixtures of leaf and bark was the black, night sky that was filling puddles around him. David was nowhere to be seen. Leaning on his knees, Mulder struggled to get a few deep breaths. "I'm getting too old for this. David! David? Where are you?"
The wind answered him with a deafening howl.
"David! Come on out now, David. Look, we can talk about this. Everything is okay. You can trust me, all right? There is nothing to be afraid of!"
"Aaargh!" Mulder's body tensed and straightened. He tried to move his legs, but they would not respond. He could feel the ground leaving his feet, as he was pulled into the air by unseen hands. His breathing quickened, but the air was hot. He was hot. The air he was riding on was hot, and rising in temperature.
Before him stood the boy, cold, unmoving, masked in shadow. Despite the rain, Mulder could make out tiny drops falling off the boy's arm.
Blood.
The boy spoke. "Who are you?" It was a coarse whisper that Mulder was just able to hear.
Sweating, breathing hard, feeling the cold from the rain and the heat from the invisible strings holding him in the air, it was hard for Mulder to concentrate. He tried to come up with a plan, a way to talk himself out of this, but he could not string the words together. All he could do was stick to the lie. "You know who I am."
Mulder's neck snapped back and his arms felt like they were being torn, slowly, painfully from their sockets. It hurt all over. He wanted to scream, but no sound would come out.
"Tell me who you are!" the boy shouted.
Mulder did not reply.
"Tell me who you are, damn it!"
"David," Scully said, pointing the barrel of her gun at the child's head, "put him down."