Title: Disciple
Author: CeilidhO
Summary: What if Scully had accepted the transfer to Salt Lake City? Five years later, a horrifying murder case reunites her with Mulder, even as it threatens to rip apart her life.
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
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Scully felt triumph slam through her. The Deacon's words lit a fire in her mind. She knew without question that they had found something, that this was their miracle, their shaft of sunlight through the clouds. This was the road to their prize, the faceless killer the shining El Dorado at the end.
As soon as they had managed their restrained goodbyes to the Deacon and left the church, Scully spoke.
"He was here, it was him. He's a Bible Study teacher, maybe some kind of travelling one, but that's him. It fits perfectly." Mulder opened the door of the car and let himself into the driver's seat, his movements tense and strained. His body was suppressing the same rampant joy Scully could feel coursing through her whole self.
"I know." He said. "I know, I know, I know." He let out a strangled whoop, his face alight. Paring sprawled in the backseat, his hand over his mouth, whispering softly.
"We got him. Hot damn, have we got him!" Scully laughed and then reached back and put on her seatbelt as Mulder started to drive, sobering slightly.
"Are we still going to the school?" She said. Mulder turned around to look at Paring.
"Alex, what do you think? Is it still worth it?" He nodded.
"Definitely. We need to get some of the kids he knew to talk to us, to tell us if any of their Bible Study teachers were 'creepy', stuff like that." Scully turned around too.
"Should we all go? It might be-" She was interrupted by the bleating ring of her cell phone. She dug her bag out from under the seat, and pulled out the phone.
"Dana Scully."
"Dana? It's Dan. I've got some good news."
"So do we. Just a second, I'm putting you on speakerphone. Okay, go ahead." She heard Dan clear his throat.
"When we were going through the paperwork down here, we came across a missing child report from a town called Morgan, Idaho. It's for a boy who disappeared five days ago, on the second of June. That corresponds with the John Doe kid's body that we've got right now. It wasn't brought to our attention because there hasn't been a single victim in Idaho yet, but get this: the boy's name is Thomas Kent. That's one of our missing three Disciple names."
"Oh my god…"
"And that's not all. The boy was reported missing after he failed to come home from a Bible Study class." Mulder whooped again, then called toward the phone:
"Agent Morris, you are a genius." Dan's confused voice filtered back through the speaker.
"I just thought it might be something, you know, because we think he's religious, but why's Mulder so happy?" Scully smiled.
"Dan, now you get our good news. We have pretty good reason to think that the killer is a Bible Study teacher." Dan's thundering silence greeted their ears. Paring leaned toward the phone.
"Agent Morris, that's exactly how I felt." Dan laughed.
"Okay, well. I think this Thomas is the body we've got here." Mulder slipped on his sunglasses as they turned a corner, and then he spoke at the phone.
"Dan, tell me more about the circumstances of Thomas' kidnapping."
"He was supposed to go to an afternoon Bible class with a bunch of other kids getting ready for their First Communions. He left the house at 3:45 on the day he was taken-"
"Sorry, that would be Tuesday the second, right?" Mulder interrupted.
"Yeah. So he left at 3:45, after his mother gave him a snack. She saw him leave the house, and he didn't come back. She reported him missing at 11:43 that night, according to the file. The teacher and the other kids were interviewed, and they all said he never showed up for class, so either he was picked up along the way to it, or…"
Mulder grimaced. "Or he showed up early and the teacher had a little surprise waiting."
"Exactly. The only problem is, the teacher is an establishment in the town. He doesn't have a single day in the last week where he is not accounted for by someone, and the town's people all said that he hasn't been away or sick for years. Our guy would have had to travel a lot. I'd say he's clean."
"Call the sheriff for Morgan and have him question people specifically for the dates of the kidnappings and body dumps for the last couple of our victims," Scully added. "See if he can be accounted for on those."
"Can-do."
Paring leaned forward. "And have the sheriff ask about any substitute Bible teachers that may have come through in the last couple of months, any that would have had the chance to meet Thomas and know his name."
"I'll ask. When are you going to get back here?" Scully smiled.
"As soon as possible. Thanks so much, Dan. We'll see you tonight." She hung up after he did, the dial tone floating through the car.
They allowed themselves another round of cheering.
David Browning, the last friend of Jamie's they had to interview, wiped his nose on the back of his hand. The vice-principal held the other hand tightly in her grasp, her eyes concerned as she gazed down at him.
"Davey, it's okay to stop talking if it's making you too sad." He shook his head mutely, the tears that ran down his face sliding with the motion. He angrily shook off her hand, moving it to the arm of the chair, where he gripped it with white knuckles. Watching him, Scully felt sick. Mulder allowed another few moments and then he leaned towards the boy, his mouth tight.
"Davey, are you okay to answer the last question now? It's a really hard one, so I want you to be sure." Davey nodded, his cheeks glistening. "Okay. Davey, in your Bible Study class, the one at church you got a lot of substitute teachers, right? Why was that?"
"The Deacon said it was a Christian duty to h-help others and to… And to sometimes, uh, receive wisdom from our elders and the more godly among us."
"So the substitute teachers weren't always young, then?"
"No, but mostly they were."
"Which ones weren't?"
"Um… Deacon Keating from Batesville five miles up the road, Father Francis from the Lutheran school in Georgica, and… and… Mr. Monkey."
Mulder's attention focused abruptly. "Mr. Monkey? Who's that?" Davey blushed slightly.
"It's the mean name we made up for Mr…. I don't remember his name, but Jamie said we ought to call him that because it was… it was everything he ain't. Isn't. Sorry sir." Davey flushed, and then tears filled his eyes again.
"What was he then?"
"Um… Quiet, kind of, um, intense, yeah, and a real religious man. Really religious man, sorry. He was always telling us about the beauty in religion, and in God and Jesus, and in the-the poetry of the Bible. He said it was like art. He loved that word, art." Mulder and Paring exchanged a significant glance. Paring asked the next question.
"What did he teach?"
"Huh… Yeah, he taught the Apostle's Creed, mostly. That part was hard. I kept mixing the Disciples up."
"Did Jamie?"
"No, never. He was real- really good with the Disciples. Mr. Monkey gave him a gold star this one time, but I got one for my Exodus poem before Easter, so that was okay." Davey sniffled when he said Jamie's name. Mulder picked up the questioning again.
"Did he- er, Mr. Monkey and Jamie get along okay?"
"Yeah, pretty good. Jamie got the Living the Gospel Life award from him and Deacon Alden, and he used to go on and on to Jamie about how great it was that he really loved God and Jesus, and the Bible and stuff."
"Did you ever see them go anywhere together, did he ever give Jamie a ride home or something?"
"No, I never saw it." Davey clenched the chair arm again.
"When did he leave your class?"
"After we finished the Apostle's Creed, around the end of April, maybe."
"Did he ever come back?"
"No, sir. I never saw him."
Mulder pushed back his chair with a sigh. "Thank you, Davey. You've helped us out a lot. You're helping us catch the guy who got Jamie, and a lot of other boys too. You might even be a cop someday. Come and be my boss at the FBI when you're grown up, okay Davey?" The little boy blushed with pride as he wiped his dripping nose across his hand.
"Yes, sir." Mulder shook his hand solemnly, and then that of the Vice-Principal. As they were turning to go, Davey piped up again.
"Oh, Agent Fox? Mr. Monkey said one other thing. It was kind of weird."
"What was it?"
"Well, I don't think I was supposed to hear, but this one time he whispered that, um… 'This James has potential.' He said it, if that helps any."
Scully handed him a tissue.
The drive back to Salt Lake City was pulsing with conversation as they threw around ideas and took turns driving the barren stretches of highway. Scully saw five hawks in all, a road trip record for her.
Mulder was working on an area of the profile as they crossed into Utah, sprawled out across the backseat, his pen in his mouth as he earnestly scanned the typed pages, occasionally scribbling furiously in the margins, sometimes scratching out entire paragraphs. Paring snored softly in the passenger seat, and Scully watched Mulder in the rear-view mirror.
"I just think it's important…" He began, and then trailed off. Scully tilted the mirror to see his face better, her eyes hidden beneath his sunglasses.
"What's important?"
"What? Oh, that every boy we talked to mentioned Mr. Monkey in some way, but for all that no one but Davey noticed anything different, or even anything between them. It's as if he was being careful not to link the two of them together in anyone's mind, even months before Jamie was kidnapped. But someone linked them. That's not like him."
Scully frowned. "You can't get away with murdering boys for six years and be sloppy. Maybe we're all jumping to a conclusion." Mulder put a hand over his mouth, and then pinched his lower lip in concentration.
"I don't know, maybe, but I don't think so. Take a look at the last couple of days. In the last ten days, ten days, he's killed twice. Before that, he killed eight times in six years. Something's changing; he's getting impatient. Maybe that's making him sloppy now, and maybe that made him sloppy in April, but both times help us. We can only hope he hasn't got another boy already."
The man was having trouble concentrating, an experience new to him. This Canvas was particularly alluring in its unique position, as the last before his masterpiece. It called to him; its muffled bleating cries diffusing inside his head, suffusing his whole body with its essence, a siren call of angel wings furiously beating inside his heart.
He felt his blood begin to race with excitement. He licked his lips, fighting the sensations sweeping through him. He hadn't felt like this since the very first one, so many years ago, the raw power surging, his palms sweating, his fingers twitching with need and passion. He knew with certainty that when he returned to the Canvas tonight, Art like no other he had ever created before would issue forth from his fingertips, rippling the Canvas with tiny red roads of Beauty.
A spasm of joy constricted his chest. He imagined he could still taste the Canvas' blood on his tongue and he swept it through his mouth, feeling as if the warm coppery holiness was pervading his mouth and his soul.
That was too much for him to take. He pushed his chair under the desk to hide his condition, and dismissed the class early.
As he was, he would not accomplish much today.
Scully, Mulder, and Paring arrived in Salt Lake City at about three o'clock in the afternoon, pulling up at the FBI building flushed with tiredness and triumph, but sobered by the amount of work still in front of them. Scully parked the car in the underground garage, and they rode the parking elevator up to the lobby, where Dan was waiting for them.
"Welcome back," he said. "I've found out a bit more since I talked to you the last time. The sheriff in Morgan, Sheriff Perkins, found out that there was a substitute Bible Study teacher through the town some time early last month, but he hasn't got his name yet. He and the minister in the town are going through the employment records right now. They'll call us any minute."
Scully thought for a second. "Last month, that's May. That's not very long after he left Cranden." She glanced over at Mulder as they strode through the lobby. "Maybe you're right, maybe he is in a hurry."
"If he is, that gives us even less time to catch him before he kills again." Paring contributed. Dan squinted into the distance.
"But that's also going to make him sloppy, which could help us out." He offered, and Mulder nodded in agreement. They reached the elevator and went down to the basement, opening the door to room 314. Scully was struck once again by the pictures on the wall. She walked slowly over, and lingered over the ones of Jamie. It was even harder to believe that the mangled body lying in the scrubland was him after seeing his home and meeting his family.
Mulder threw himself into the chair behind the desk and picked up the phone. He dialed quickly and asked for an inside line to Headquarters in Washington. Scully watched with a touch of envy. He still belonged there, and she no longer did. Mulder straightened as the phone was picked up at the other end.
"Hi, this is Agent Mulder. Can I speak to A.D. Guent, please? Yes, I'll hold." He paused for a second, then Scully could faintly hear the line resuming as a woman picked up. "It's Agent Mulder, can I speak to the Assistant Director, please. Yes, Barbara, it is me. No, I can't believe it either. Yes, it's been ages. Uh, huh. Is the AD there? Thanks." Mulder rolled his eyes. "It's been nice to talk to you, too. Yes, the desert's beautiful, I'll- Assistant Director, hi. Okay, you can put the phone down now, Barbara. Yes, bye… Sir, it's Mulder, I've got some news…" Scully tuned him out, and joined the others in waiting for the other line to ring. All their hopes were in someone else's hands, and all they could do was wait.
Five hours later, there was still no word. Scully finally activated call forward to her cell phone and invited the others back to her apartment, where at least they could be more comfortable as their stomachs turned inside out from worry and anticipation. As they drove through the city, Scully's hands and feet were cold, her breathing was constricted and shaky, and she struggled to keep her attention on the people around her. She felt like she had at Dulles Airport five years ago, waiting for the plane to Salt Lake City.
She had sat in the departure lounge in the early hours of the morning, watching the twinkling lights of the runway and listening to the excited chatter of the children. She could still feel the stiffness of her cheeks, the sickness in her gut, and the righteous anger that had kept her in her seat when every other instinct was telling her to run back to Mulder.
She had folded her hands in her lap, each clutching the other in their icy grip, her eyes focused out the window, but not really seeing anything, her mind still firmly back in Mulder's hallway, or maybe in the musty confines of the basement office; it could have been either. She relived every moment of their fight, every action, every gesture, every word. She rejoiced in the flare of anger it created, and desperately tried to push away the gaping pit of sadness that ridiculed her, screaming of her folly in Scully's own voice.
She half expected Mulder to come barreling into the gate, frantically calling her name, scanning the crowds for her, his eyes vulnerable and wounded, his voice hoarse. When he finally found her, he would take her in his arms and profess his regret, beg her not to go, not to leave him, and this time she wouldn't pull away.
A burst of anger had cascaded through her then, appalled at her own spinelessness, her lack of conviction. She had made the right descision, she knew it, and no foolish fantasies would break her down. Like Mulder, she had survived on that anger for months, and it was the only thing that gave her the strength to get on the plane, to present her ticket, to survive the horror of everyday living, of doing everything without him. It was the only thing that kept her from calling.
The only thing it could not erase was the very real lurch of sickness, the swelling of nausea, that she had felt when she boarded the plane, as she had realised that he was not going to come for her.
The car slid to a stop outside of Scully's apartment, jeking her out of her reverie. She climbed out, faintly hearing the talk of the other agents. As she lead them towards the front porch, Mulder caught up with her.
"So, this is where you hid yours-" He stopped suddenly. Scully looked up. Rob was standing on the porch.
He smiled tremulously at her. "Dana. Welcome home." He looked at Mulder and his face twisted slightly, but he put put his hand. "Agent Mulder, it's nice to meet you at last. I'm Rob Abrams."
Mulder shook Rob's hand, his gaze wary. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Abrams. I've been hearing a lot about you from Scully."
"Please, Mulder, can I call you Mulder? Good. Please, call me Rob. I'd be delighted if you would."
"Rob," Scully began, but he interrupted her.
"So, I've noticed you don't call Dana by her first name. Can I ask about that, becau-" He was cut off by a ringing noise. Dan, who was holding Scully's phone, flipped it open.
"Dan Morris. Okay, send the information through to the secondary address. I'll get back to you in a second." Morris turned to the group of them and took a deep breath. "That was Sheriff Perkins," he said. "And he's got the name."
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A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger! Keep the wonderful reviews coming! Thanks especially to all my regular reviewers, (you guys are wonderful), and to Maverick Point: that was a really well thought out review, and I've tried to change some of the things you mentioned. Tell me what you think. Also X_MulderScully_X: It is the Apostle's Creed; I made a mistake, which I've now fixed. Thanks for pointing it out.
Above all, thanks to my new beta reader: my fabbity-fab brother Devon.
~ Ceilidh