Perception

If the same situation were visited on any other family, it would be the subject of alarm. The mother might be found by the phone, whitened knuckles drumming on the counter, repeatedly calling the police. The father might be found pacing frantically through the halls, brow knitted with concern, stopping periodically to peer out of the windows for some sign of the object of their concern. For the Monroe family, it had attained an almost traditional quality. "Where's Calvin?" The mother asked conversationally.

"Not in his room." Concluded the father with a shrug.

"Dinner's getting cold." The mother observed.

"Maybe that's his intention." Said the father, with a wry grin.

"Well, he's going to eat it anyway." The mother resolved, crossing her arms. The next ten minutes passed in silence. Then, the realization gradually dawned: if the boy was nowhere to be found, he was most likely getting into trouble.

"I'll call the police." The mother said, still conversational. The father nodded calmly, finished a mouthful of microwaved lasagna, and stood.

"Well, with any luck, he isn't committing any major felonies." His father joked, though neither laughed. He followed his wife out of the room.

"You realize this is a violation of federal law." Mulder repeated. The statement seemed to have no effect on the six-year-old stowaway in the back seat of his car, who listened politely, though his expression suggested he was becoming bored with the topic.

"I'm sure." Calvin said indulgently, in the same tone his parents might have used to accept his claims of superpowers. "But the fact remains…I know where you're going. And I know what you want to do. And I'm not going to let you."

"It isn't wise to threaten a federal agent, you know. Now, let's get you back to your parents…" He was about to turn back onto the road, when Calvin, who had managed to roll down his window, leaned out.

"HELP! I'm being abducted! Somebody call the Police, oh, help…" He screamed at a passing car. Wincing, Mulder twisted around in his seat and grabbed him by the collar. The driver of the other car, a stiff-necked businessman in his late fifties, shot Mulder a horrified glance before speeding off.

"If you don't quite down immediately, I really will call the police." Mulder threatened. Calvin looked smug. "You might go to prison, you know. Threatening a federal officer, umm…slander, libel…" True or not, he assumed the boy wouldn't be able to tell. "And just how did you get into my car in the first place?"

"I've had practice." Calvin said evasively. "Listen, we need to talk."

"All right." Mulder said resignedly. "I suppose I owe you that much. I assume this is about…"

"Yes." The boy nodded decisively. On the seat beside him, Mulder could make out a battered, plush tiger. He no longer saw it as anything else, but he could sense its reality, its presence in the car, the air it displaced. He thought he could smell the pungent odor of its breath; it was redolent of canned tuna. "You can't tell anyone." The boy stated. He spoke more soberly than before, commandingly. His gaze was level.

"About…?" Mulder wondered, not for the first time, if this was all a dream…or some trance brought on by some hallucinogenic substance.

"Right. I know you want too, but…" He turned to the tiger, Hobbes, as he called it, and paused a moment. As if listening. "Just…think what might happen, okay? If the whole world knew about Hobbes. What do you think would happen?"

"I imagine the entire world would come to see him the way you do…the way I hope that I do…and we could all learn to be a little more perceptive."

"Is that really what you think?" Calvin's voice was saturated with scorn. You adults can be so DENSE. It's hard to imagine that you run the world…" He paused, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you really think people could see Hobbes for what he is? I'm surprised you could, I mean…when I first met Hobbes, I couldn't imagine that anyone wouldn't, you know, be able to see him. Now…I don't know what would happen. None of us do. But maybe it's better to wait. The truth is, if people want to believe, then they will. If they don't, then nothing can change their mind."

"Calvin, what I intend to do is tell my partner. Her name is Dana Scully. She's a very intelligent, responsible person, even if she isn't as quick to believe…"

"Right, you tell her and she tells someone she thinks she can trust and pretty soon everyone knows. That's how things work, isn't it?" There was a long silence. A car passed with a mournful hiss. Mulder sighed.

"I've looked all my life for something like this. I…" He began, mashing the flesh of his face with his palm.

"Can you keep a secret?" Calvin demanded, more intent than ever.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"Neither can I. Now promise me."

"I…"

"Please?"

It was some ten minutes later. Man and boy shook hands, stiffly, both preoccupied. "Do you need a ride?" Mulder asked.

"I've arranged for transportation." Calvin said, indicating the plush tiger leaning against him. Though, to him, it was only that, Mulder could have sworn he heard it speak. It was a voice no louder than a whisper, as fleeting and insubstantial as the breeze, but unmistakable.

"Tigers are hunters, not pack animals. We hitch a ride." The plush toy insisted. Mulder smiled weakly.

"It's…been nice meeting you." Calvin said sincerely, returning the gesture.

"Same here, I think." Mulder replied. They stood there a moment, regarding each other. Mulder took a deep, rattling breath, climbed into his car, slammed the door shut and turned the key. And he left them there, by the side of the road. Somehow, he trusted they would get home safely. A boy with a tiger has little to worry about. In his rear view mirror, he thought he caught a glimpse of orange fur streaked with black, and a pair of luminous, feline eyes in the dark. But maybe it was just his imagination.

"Mulder, you have no idea the pains I've taken to meet you here tonight…" She began.

"And I'm sorry. I really am, Scully. You don't know how much. But like I said, it was a hoax, just some yokel leaving Bigfoot tracks in the mud with a plaster cast. You know how easily I'm taken in…" He grinned sheepishly.

"I don't believe you." She said flatly. "After this long, I'd expect you to give me that much credit."

"Then will you believe me when I say I can't tell you?" He said, more serious than she had ever remembered him.

"Yes." She said at length.

"Listen, I'm really sorry, it's just…"

"No." She cut him off. "It's all right. It's all right." And they drove on in silence.

Note: Wow. I never thought I'd write a second chapter for this, let alone a third. I'm actually pretty pleased with the way it turned out, which is a first. But there will definitely not be any kind of sequel. I think.