Noon
His eyes were dark, sagging and drooping. By any logic he should not have been in the realm between awake and asleep but fully submerged in the latter. Every time he closed his eyes, though, the images he saw forced them back open again. He spent the night like that, knowing he should catch some rest while he could, but never getting it in his grasp. Once, when he shut his eyes, he could almost feel her in his arms again as that final breath left her beaten and tattered body….
"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully asked from the seat next to him.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."
"Oh," she replied. Why are you acting like this? she thought. You've been in your own little world ever since you saw that man Logan Jackson's picture, and you're not letting me in. What are you hiding from me?
She watched as he opened up his cell phone. She did not know it was possible to open a cellular phone in a way that was chilling in its callousness, but somehow he did it. "Who are you calling, Mulder?" she asked.
Regardless of whether he did not hear her or because he did not want to tell her David never called him back, he chose to not answer her.
526 Grant Street
The ringing of the phone echoed through the empty hallway and silent rooms of the dark house. It screamed as loudly as it could, begging and pleading, but no one answered its call. The family was gone: Jack and Kelly Watson were in town, making their usual Saturday errands; Robert Watson was four and a half blocks away throwing fire crackers at random objects with his accomplice Matt Rawson; and David Anderson, the fourth and newest member of the family, was next door mowing the lawn of their neighbor Mr. Nicolas.
David's hair was dripping from sweat. The day was unseasonably, no, unnaturally hot. The sun beat relentlessly down on both him and the mower he pushed in front of him. "Oh, man," he said, wiping the sweat off before it got in his eyes, "I'm only halfway done." He groaned. There were at least a hundred other things he would have rather been doing, but this was the only one that both paid and was legal.
Still, the heat was unrelenting, and sweat caused his shirt to stick to his back making it even more difficult to move. He paused for a moment and looked around, considering his option. Well, he thought, there isn't any girls around or anything to laugh at me. And I don't think anybody from the street can see my back. He thought of the faint scars that still lingered there. They were from his other childhood, his previous life. The life he lived before he met Mulder and Scully and eventually moved in with the Watsons. He grasped the bottom of his shirt, fought it as it stuck to his back, and pulled it over his head.
"Perfect," the man said, pressing the button on the digital camera. From behind the window, he had full view of the boy as he toiled in his yard. "That's it, turn this way, just a little. Oh, yes, perfect." Another picture. Then another, and another. And then one more.
He already had his elbow resting against the window, his chin in his hand. "No one," he muttered.
She wanted to press him, to get him to tell her what was going on. Instead she let him have his secret; if he did not want to talk about it, there was no getting it out of him without causing a scene. Thus she turned her attention back to the magazine she had been thumbing through.
Several minutes passed with Mulder looking at his watch, then out the window, then at the guy behind them, then his watch, and again Mulder tried to call David. When no one answered, he followed the same pattern once more. Again, no one answered and he slammed the phone against the seat in front of him, making the man sitting there turn around and glare.
"Sorry," Scully said when she saw Mulder was not going to say it. The man turned back around, and she turned to Mulder. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.
He bit his lip. It was so hard to hold onto everything that was going on in his mind. He wanted to tell her everything, to just get it out in the open. He hated lying to her, and he would have loved her shoulder then as much as ever. "I can't," he said slowly, "I haven't heard from David."
Her face turned grim. "Should I be worried?"
"No. No, I'm sure it's nothing. You know Robert probably just got busy and forgot to tell him."
"I'm going to try calling him. Maybe I'll have better luck," she said, starting to reach for her cell phone.
"Use mine," Mulder said, handing the phone to her. "Just hit redial."
Oh man, David thought, it must be a hundred and twenty degrees out there! He was still sweating from the heat despite being inside. He opened the refrigerator and the coolness of it felt refreshing against his face and arms. He took a soda, and made his way to the den. There he smiled as he counted his money and sipped at his refreshment.
Brrrrring!
David groaned. "Of course, when I just sat down." He forced himself up and to the phone. "Hello," he answered.
"David?"
"Yeah…. Is this….?"
"It's Dana."
"Hey! How's it going?" he asked cheerfully. It seemed like forever since he had last heard her voice.
"I've been better." She looked at Mulder. "David, I need you to do me a favor."
"Uhhh…sure, I guess. What is it?"
"I want you to promise that you will not go over to your neighbor Mr. Nicolas's house anymore."
"Why?"
What do I tell him? The truth, assuming Mulder told me the truth... As long as he stays away from Jackson, he'll be okay; he'd be okay anyway, right? "He's a wanted felon. Mulder and I are going to be there in a few hours, okay? We'll explain when we get there. Just please, promise me that you will not go over there."
David paused. What did Mr. Nicolas do?
"David, promise. Please." Her voice sounded desperate.
"Yeah, okay," he said, curiosity and confusion clashing in his mind. "I promise."
"David says he won't have contact with Jackson until we get there," Scully said, returning the phone to her partner. He did not say anything. He's still hiding something. He's more worried than I am, and I don't see how that's possible in any other way.
"Mulder," Scully said, placing her hand on his. He turned away. "If you need to talk about something, I'm here for you." Whatever you're hiding, you don't have to hide it from me.
"I'm-I'm fine, Scully," he lied.
526 Grant Street
3:23 P.M.
What could Mr. Nicolas have done to get the feds after him? David thought as he shot the basketball up in the air. It bounced off the rim a couple of times before landing nicely through the net. He bounced it a few times on the ground and shot again, once more sinking it perfectly. She sounded worried, but Mr. Nicolas is such a nice guy, surely he didn't do anything that bad. Maybe he was wrongly accused. Maybe they're just going to question him or something.
Whatever the reason, it had been driving him crazy for the last few hours. When he did get it off his mind, he could hardly contain his excitement over seeing Fox and Dana again. He had missed them a lot in the year since they investigated his family's deaths. Has it already been a year?
"Hey, David," voice shouted between struggled gasps. "Would you care to give me a hand with this?"
David turned around to see Mr. Nicolas trying to push a box, about the same size as him, into the house. On the side was a picture of a table, and it had to be heavy. David looked at him, but did not say a thing.
"Please? It's really heavy, and I'm afraid I'll drop it and break it."
Oh, man. I can't just not help him, can I? That wouldn't be cool. David pushed a hand through his light brown hair, thinking, But I promised Dana. But then again, Mr. Nicolas has always been nice to me, and he's never given me reason to worry. Maybe they just want to talk to him about parking tickets or something little like that. Besides, I can take care of myself. At that, he thought of the telekinetic abilities he had had since he was just a little, little boy. "Well…." he said, still thinking it over.
"Please?"
Don't do it, David, a voice inside said.
"Okay." David saw the sigh of relief on his neighbor's face as David jogged the distance between them and hoisted the opposite end of the box.
"Thanks. You're a good kid, you know that?"
David gave a weak smirk in reply. Something inside of him told him this was not a good idea. It's just guilt, he thought, trying to rationalize it. I just feel bad about breaking my promise. I'll just help him with this and get out of here . Nothing bad is going to happen.
Nothing bad at all…