Chapter 3: Samantha
Rock Creek Park
May 3rd
11:52pm
The night was clear and still. Stars blanketed the night sky, twinkling down on the lone figure pacing in the middle of the empty ballpark. Mulder was deep in thought, hands inside his pockets. Beads of sweat gathered under his hairline, glistening in the dim glow of the lamps.
What is this? he asked himself. Why am I here? Doing this again? After all I've seen, all the lies, why do I still believe?
His gaze swept across the field, pausing by home plate. He remembered last year when he had invited Scully out here. How they had batted late into the night, bodies wrapped together. Scully was truly Scully then—her professional exterior had melted away in his arms. What would she say now? he wondered. Would she think this foolish?
The grass rustled behind him. Mulder turned around, staring into the shadows. Someone stepped out from the darkness and stopped at the edge of the diamond, silhouetted by the streetlight.
Mulder squared his shoulders and walked slowly toward the silhouette. When he got closer, he saw that it was man, his head bowed, blond hair slightly mussed.
Mulder paused a few feet away from him. He waited.
"Agent Mulder," the man stated simply, after a moment. He looked at Mulder. His face was hidden; his blue eyes shone like beacons.
Mulder remained silent, his face expressionless.
"I assume you've received my message." The man's speech was clear, every word enunciated. "Nice strategy last night, by the way."
Mulder frowned.
"Although you would've done better if you'd skirted the fort outside Morocco."
Mulder bristled. "I did not come here to hear you preach to me about the finer points of Wolfenstein. Cut the crap, LeFleur."
The man chuckled. "Casey Whitfield, Agent Mulder."
"What do you know about me? About my sister?" Mulder asked fiercely, unable to stomach the chitchat.
"I know everything about you. And your sister. I know where she is." He paused, waiting for Mulder's reaction.
"I'll bet you do. My life must be a book for so many people to know everything about me. What makes you so different, Casey?" Mulder grated, scowling.
"I can take you to her, Agent Mulder," Casey said with a trace of a smile.
Mulder's heart began to beat rapidly. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"That's not important. What's important is that I can reunite you with your sister. I can give you something you will search for forever but never find."
"You're a liar."
"Am I, Agent Mulder?" He paused. "Then what are you doing here?"
Mulder couldn't think of anything to say.
"See?" Casey chuckled. "You can see her tomorrow. Meet me at the Georgetown Inn tomorrow morning at eight." He turned to leave.
Mulder made to follow him, but changed his mind. Instead he called out, "Why not tonight?"
Casey looked over his shoulder. "She's asleep. It's past midnight."
Mulder watched him go. The shadows melted together, and soon Mulder couldn't tell where Casey ended and the trees began. He blew a loud breath into the warm night air and walked back to his car.
En route to Chinatown
Washington, D.C.
May 4th
12.24am
Casey Whitfield drove along Connecticut Avenue, listening to the soft rock from his CD player. At least I'm not like him…
His thoughts trailed off as he noticed a black sedan tailing him unashamedly.
"Can't trust me, huh?" he muttered. "Why doesn't he just do these things himself?"
Ming's Teahouse
Chinatown, Washington, D.C.
May 4th
12:30am
Casey strolled in the small building and nodded to the old man behind the counter. Ming's was the only place in Chinatown open this late. The place smelled like stale tea and herbs. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, and several oriental screens had cracks running down their lengths.
He headed toward the table in the far corner, partly hidden by a pot of bamboo. A woman with long brown hair sat staring into space, sipping a cup of tea. She looked up and spotted him.
Casey sat down. "Well, he came. He'll show up tomorrow."
The woman nodded. "Alright. I'll see you."
"Sure."
The woman stood up and maneuvered her way between Casey and the giant flowerpot. As she neared the door, she exchanged a glance with the man hidden behind an oriental screen. Back at the table, Casey closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Well, it looks like we'll have a new addition to the family," a voice said hoarsely behind him.
Casey turned, only to be bombarded by a cloud of cigarette smoke.
"Why did you follow me?" he asked angrily.
"To make sure you didn't do something stupid," the Cigarette-Smoking-Man answered.
Casey shook his head. "Why didn't you just go yourself?"
"Mulder doesn't trust me. He'll trust you. You've got an honest face."
Casey curled his lips petulantly. He stood up and pushed past the Smoking Man.
"Be careful, Casey. Don't be a fool," the Cigarette-Smoking-Man warned to Casey's retreating back.
FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
May 4th
7:54am
Dana Scully sat in her chair, skimming through a case file. She had a look of profound irritation on her face. Mulder was even later than usual. Skinner wanted them in his office in six minutes. She was going to chew him out when he comes in.
Riiinng
Scully looked at the phone. She looked at the clock. Her frown deepened. She slapped the folder down on the desk and yanked the phone out of its cradle.
"Scully."
"Hey, Scully, it's me."
So she could chew him out earlier than she thought. "Mulder, where the hell are you? Skinner wants to see us, and if you don't get your butt down here right now, I am not going to cover for you."
There was silence on the other end.
"Mulder," Scully growled.
She heard him sigh. "Scully, I'm sorry, but something came up. I need to go. I'll call you as soon as I can."
"Mul—" Mulder had hung up.
Scully slammed down the phone. "Damn you, Mulder. I hope you get in a wreck."
Georgetown Inn
Georgetown, Maryland
May 4th
7:57am
Mulder stood hunched in the morning sunshine, oblivious to the people hurrying past him in and out of the inn. He felt bad about not telling Scully where he was going—she had always been there for him. But this was something he needed to figure out by himself. Scully would only hold him back.
A gold Camry pulled up to the curb. A blond man sat behind the wheel, staring ahead.
Mulder hesitated for only a second. He stepped into the road and got in from the passenger side. The car dove smoothly into traffic before Mulder had a chance to put on his seatbelt.
"Will you slow down?" Mulder said after a few minutes.
"I thought you liked speed," Casey answered. He finally turned to look at his passenger. Mulder saw that Casey was a handsome man, his face chiseled, his nose straight. A day's worth of stubble gave him a rugged look. His piercing blue eyes reminded Mulder of Scully's. At the thought of Scully, he felt a pang of guilt.
As if reading his thoughts, Casey said, "Don't worry, you're not being taken away and isolated. You can call your partner if you like."
Mulder scoffed. "Why do you care?"
"To ensure your happiness," Casey answered.
Neither spoke after that. Twenty minutes later, the car turned onto Highway 112 and entered Brenda, Maryland.
As they passed the sign welcoming visitors to the town, Mulder spoke up, surprised. "We were here Saturday."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes really, Mr. Whitfield. Now what are we doing here?"
Casey didn't answer. He drove through Fox Chase, one of the richest and most picturesque neighborhoods in Maryland. Giant oaks lined the streets; elegant two- or three-story mansions with beautiful gardens stool behind them. Casey turned onto Marilyn Drive, and when he reached the brick house with the polished wooden porch, he slowed and followed the circular driveway.
Mulder stared at the two-story house, his mouth open. It was the same house, the one where he thought he saw his sister. He shook his head to clear away the confusion. He looked at Casey.
"What?" Casey asked.
"I—I was here, Saturday…"
Casey smiled. "Ah, the powers of fate. Come on, Agent Mulder, your sister's waiting inside."
Mulder's heart hammered in his chest, his stomach twisted in knots. They walked down the cobblestone path and up onto the porch. Casey went up to the heavy oak door, lifted the ornate brass knocker, and let it drop. Soft footsteps approached the door. Mulder closed his eyes.
The door opened. "Hey, Casey," a female voice said. "What are you…" the voice trailed off when she noticed Mulder standing behind Casey. Casey stepped aside.
Mulder heard the voice, and his heart missed a beat. In the silence that followed, he opened his eyes.
The woman he saw on the porch two days ago stood before him, face illuminated by the sunlight; the expression in her hazel eyes mirrored his own.
They stared at each other. A second passed. Then another.
"Fox?" the woman asked in a barely audible whisper.
Mulder smiled faintly. "Samantha," he said as he gathered his sister in his arms. "Oh, Samantha…"
May 4th
The Cigarette-Smoking-Man watched the reunion from the window. Smoke billowed about his head.
The woman from Ming's stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind her.
"She's ready," she said.
"Thank you, Diana," he answered.
They left the room together and climbed the stairs leading to the attic. Dust motes hung suspended in the shafts of sunlight that cut across their path. Diana Fowley stared at them thoughtfully before reaching inside a pocket and pulling out a key. She unlocked the attic door and the two of them stepped inside.
Instead of a dark, musty room filled with trunks and boxes, they were in an immaculate, shiny, white medical bay. A raised bed stood in the middle. Doctors monitored the body that lay still on the sheets, checking the readings from several machines that fanned out from the bed. They fiddled with syringes, as if itching to plunge the needles into the patient's flesh.
The Cigarette-Smoking-Man approached the bed, while Diana remained by the door. He stared down at the pale face, the high cheekbones, the ash blond, almost gray hair.
"Almost there, Cassandra," he murmured. "Almost there."
A/N: Feedback? Please? Pretty please?