May 20th

Vermont

Much to everyone's chagrin, the case remained unsolved by the time William's second birthday arrived. After realizing that this was going to be the case, Scully was inconsolable, which made Mulder decide to ask Maggie to bring the kids up on William's birthday as a surprise for Scully. She was so depressed she thought he was just being nice when he and Barry went to do the shopping, and never stopped to think that he might have been going to make a phone call.

The little party was a success, and William charmed everyone, except when he smeared cake on everything. Maggie had even thought to stop at their house first to get the presents Scully had picked out and bragged about to her. William loved them. Almost as much as he loved the wrapping paper.

The little cabin didn't seem so desolate with the two happy, bright children there, so they could almost forget how miserable they'd been before then. Sadly, it eventually came time for Maggie and the kids to leave, so they could get to a hotel halfway between there and home before Maggie got too tired to drive.

"Dana, Fox...before we go, there's something I need to talk to you about." She glanced at the kids, and stopped.

Doggett realized why she'd trailed off. "Come on guys, I want to show you something outside before we you go. I wish I could show the babies, but they'll have to settle for a picture." William and Emily trailed after him, demanding to know what he was going to show them.

As soon as the door closed, Maggie turned to Mulder and Scully with a grave look. "The day after you left, William had an accident. A very bad one." Their faces paled as she told them about the torn flesh and all the blood. "But while I watched, he got better. Thirty seconds later, when I'd gotten his shirt and coat off, all that was left was a cut not serious enough for stitches. That isn't natural." She shivered.

"Did you bring him to the e.r.?" Scully asked anxiously.

Interpreting the question the opposite of its intention, Maggie was slightly defensive. "He was ok. How would I have explained his rapid and nearly complete recovery? I bandaged what was left of the wound and he was fine. Four days later there was nothing left of the injury."

"How do we explain it to ourselves?" Scully mused quietly.

Of the three of them, Mulder was the one not at a loss. "We know that William is an unusual boy, and that some of the grays are healers...maybe it's one of the 'gifts' my father left us when he injected me with that DNA. These things have always come out more naturally in Will."

Maggie shook her head. "Fox, he was unconscious. Even if he could heal himself, don't you think he'd have to be awake to do it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you have another theory?" He challenged, but not unkindly.

She hesitated, not really wanting to suggest what was on her mind. "I know you probably don't want to hear this with all you've gone through with her-"Both of their eyes widened at the word 'her' "But I think Emily might have had something, maybe everything, to do with his healing. I'm not positive, but it looked like he started to get better when she picked up his wrist... I'm sorry, I know how happy you were when it seemed like she was a perfectly normal child now..." She looked as apologetic as she sounded.

"There's no way to prove which one of them did it." Scully said reasonably. "We'll have to watch them if anything comes up, so we can figure out which of them is able to heal."

Later, when Maggie and the kids were gone, Mulder wondered which child he'd prefer to be the healer. The implications if it was William were less frightening, but- Doggett and Scully's calls to him that it was time for dinner broke his thoughts.

May 22nd, 2003

Kennedy, Texas

In the end it took her three weeks.

Three long weeks wandering from town to town that ended in "dy" asking if there was a Quinn street because she didn't trust Mapquest after it told her to go on 115 North East and no such route existed, just 115 North and 115 East, which took you different places.

Three weeks of calling Gibson every three or four days to see if he was doing ok, and once to make sure that he'd sent out the bills. Even after he said he had she still imagined him in the dark and cold with no water. They never spoke about John. Every time she started to tears swarmed into her eyes, so she stopped trying.

Three weeks of finding Quinn streets in dy towns that didn't go to 207. She finally found the right street in the right town.

In the end, when Reyes found the house at the end of Quinn Street, she almost cried. It might have been a nice house once, but now... the paint had long since peeled away, leaving the cracked and weathered boards to the mercy of the elements. All the windows were boarded, and they stared blankly at the street. Worst of all, a thick rope was strung across the porch, barring access. From the middle of the rope hung a wooden sign that pointed out the obvious – the house was condemned.

She stared at the sign long enough to read it eighteen times over, but her eyes didn't really see it. It was the end of the road. Her search had come to nothing. One hand went to her belly, reminding herself why this had been so important to her. She'd let them, and herself, down.

"What are you doing?" A voice called, startling her out of her paralyzing gloom. Thinking about it, she vaguely recalled hearing a door open. Turning around slowly, she saw that the speaker was an older woman standing on the porch of the home next door.

"I was given this address." Reyes told the woman after walking a few steps closer to her.

"Can't imagine why." The woman remarked. Reyes realized that she was older than she'd initially thought. Probably in her early sixties. "No one has lived there for more than thirty years." The woman sounded annoyed that Reyes had obviously been deceived by the address giver.

Thirty years. Thirty years. Reyes mind repeated it, stunned, or maybe mockingly, she couldn't tell. She finally realized that the woman was waiting for an answer to her question. "Someone from the adoption agency. This was the address I was given for my birth mother." Reyes told the woman, her voice trembling.

The woman looked stunned. "You're Debra Jacey's daughter?"

"Did you know my mother?" Reyes asked tonelessly. Her brain was buzzing too loudly with confusion to settle on an emotional reaction.

The older woman closed the rest of the gap between them, and gently took Reyes' arm. "Come in, and we'll talk." She let herself be lead as docilely as a child.

When they were inside, the woman pour her a glass of water." I'm Lillian, by the way." She said, handing the drink to her.

Reyes took a grateful sip. "Monica."

Lillian looked fascinated. "I always wondered what happened to you. When Debbie came home from her impromptu vacation from Mexico alone, there were a lot of questions, but she didn't answer a one."

Finishing her drink, Reyes wondered what people would think if she came home no longer pregnant, no babies with her. It was too hard to imagine. Then she wondered if she'd get the chance to ask her mother that very question. She wanted to be polite, but it was too hard. "Please, is my mother still alive? I know my father isn't, but is my mother?"

Lillian's eyes filled with pity. " I'm sorry."