Up a Winding Stair

By aka "Jake"

Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Classification: X, Post-Series (Post Season 11)

Summary: Mulder catches the eye of a new neighbor, a widowed single mom of twin 6-year-old girls. While she tries to lure him away from Scully, Mulder is focused on finding a killer with a peculiar MO: the victims are all male, their corpses nothing but bone fragments inside headless, hardened shells of translucent skin, wrapped in human-sized cocoons.

Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the property of Chris Carter, FOX, and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement intended. This is for fun, not profit.

Author's Note: This is a stand-alone MOTW tale. It’s also a part of my “Unfinished Business Series,” a collection of loosely connected stories that take place after the series ends. It’s not necessary to read any of the other fics to enjoy this one.

All of the stories in this series share a few things in common: Scully retired from the FBI after learning she was pregnant in MSIV; Skinner survived being hit by the Smoking Man’s car and is now Deputy Director; Mulder continues to work in the basement of the Hoover Building on the X-Files, now with a new partner, a young man named Matthew Somers; and Mulder and Scully have a 5-year-old daughter, the child Scully was carrying at the end of MSIV. Her name is Katherine Abigail. They call her Katie.

Beta’ed by xdksfan.

QUANTICO MORGUE
THURSDAY, JULY 25, 2024
5:43 PM

Twin autopsy tables vied for attention beneath the glare of the morgue’s fluorescent lights. A sticky, fibrous cocoon-like structure, large enough to hold a human body, occupied the table on the left. The body it once encased lay stretched out on its back on the table on the right. Truth be told, the corpse was one of the most unusual Mulder had seen during his tenure at the Bureau, and that was saying a lot.

The victim’s skin had hardened into a thin, translucent shell, keeping its original shape…mostly. It contained no internal organs, viscera or muscle tissue. Only a few bone fragments and calcific crumbs dusted the inside of the trunk, limbs, and buttocks.

Notably, the head was missing.

Mulder was tempted to press a gloved finger to the victim’s right shoulder but its seeming fragility held him back, more so than the M.E.’s earlier warning of “Don’t touch my corpse, Agent Mulder.” Her tone was so accusatory, it was almost as if he had a reputation or something.

While he waited for her to return with her toxicology results, he took the opportunity to inspect the cocoon. It reminded him of a similar one he and Scully had discovered in the Olympic National Forest 30 years ago, spun by insects hatched from ancient larvae. The body inside had been completely desiccated, its fluids drained until what remained was as hard and dry as beef jerky. But, unlike this body, that one had retained all of its internal organs. And its head.

This victim’s body was essentially an empty container. Which brought to mind another case: Herman Stites, crypto-biologist, specializing in reptile genetics, who arguably became one of his own experiments. Scully cultured bacteria from the hydrolytic enzymes that were sprayed into the victim’s eyes, which caused the breakdown of tissue, liquifying muscle and even bone for easy digestion, while the skin turned rigid and brittle, forming a transparent vessel from which the reptile — or Stites himself, depending on who you asked — then drank the deliquesced flesh.

Since the M.E. issued no warnings about touching the cocoon, Mulder plucked at its densely woven fibers. They were whitish, sticky, and remarkably tough. He bent and took a sniff, but could detect no discernible odor.

His partner, Agent Matthew Somers, age 24 and as green as a newborn alien’s blood, stood across the room, slouched against a stainless steel counter, seemingly unimpressed by the cocoon or the body, his baby blues glued to the case notes on his cellphone rather than the evidence at hand.

Typical Gen Z.

Mulder held his own paper copy of the file at arm’s length and adjusted his progressive lenses until the tiny print came into focus. Yes, he still preferred hardcopy over digital and anyone who objected could kiss his Boomer ass. He’d been an agent for longer than Somers had been alive. Hell, he and Scully were sharing a midnight kiss to celebrate the start of the new millennium when Somers was still a zygote floating free in his mother’s womb. Maybe Mulder would start calling him Zygote just to get a rise out of him.

“You know the report is available digitally, Mulder,” Somers said, phone held aloft.

“You know the deceased is right here on the table?”

Maybe the Z in Gen Z stood for “zygote.”

Somers continued to read from his phone. Despite his youth and lack of field experience, he was turning into a remarkably capable agent. He had an open mind when it came to unexplained phenomena. He was also a crack shot, tough enough to take the job’s frequent ass-kickings, and, as a fast runner, he could outpace Mulder when chasing down perps and monsters. Somers would never replace Scully as a partner, of course, but as a second stringer, he seemed up to the task. After almost six months together, he and Mulder had learned each other’s quirks and had become a competent team, as proven by their case resolution rate, which was nearly as high as Mulder and Scully’s had been at their peak.

Naturally, Mulder and Somers insulted one another as often and as mercilessly as possible, as guys do, a habit Mulder had put on hold while working with Scully. She’d wanted to be treated as an equal but he could never quite bring himself to provoke her that way. Despite a decades-long hiatus, however, he found it easy to slip back into his boys-will-be-pricks persona, ensuring that Somers knew Mulder liked him without saying he liked him, a code all guys understood and most women seemed to find baffling.

According to the autopsy report — the paper version in Mulder’s outstretched hand — the deceased was male. Mulder glanced at the body’s pelvic area, where nothing but a ragged-edged hole — big enough to put a fist through — marked where the man’s genitals should’ve been.

Were those…? No, couldn’t be. Teeth marks? The guy’s junk was chewed off?

In all his years working on the X-Files, Mulder had never encountered that before.

Coincidentally…or not…the rim of the severed neck looked gnawed, too.

The police report was frustratingly short on details. The cocooned body was discovered in an abandoned warehouse in East Baltimore two days ago by the foreman of a wrecking crew. The building was slated for demolition the following week, but the demo was now on hold while the FBI conducted its investigation. The crime scene photos showed the cocoon hanging from the ceiling in a stairwell with an unidentified viscous substance congealing on the floor beneath it. Samples had been collected and sent for analysis. No identifying items belonging to the victim were found at the scene, no wallet, cellphone, or clothes, no fiber, hair, or prints. He remained a John Doe and a complete mystery.

As for the M.E.’s autopsy report, it was predominantly blank.

“Hello, gentlemen,” said Dr. Olivia Alling, the forensic pathologist assigned to the case, as she entered the morgue. Green eyes, flawless mahogany skin, legs like a professional dancer, she turned heads wherever she went. She, too, was a zygote, not all that much older than Somers, whose attention finally shifted from his phone to stare openly at the doc.

“You didn’t touch the corpse, did you, Agent Mulder?” Alling side-eyed him as she strolled over to Somers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dr. Alling.”

She looked to Somers for confirmation.

“He kept his hands to himself,” Somers said, “for once.”

“You dissing me, Junior?”

“We both know what you’re like, Mulder.”

Dr. Alling brazenly raked Somers from his spit-shined chukka boots to his taper-fade haircut. Angled toward him, she raised her eyebrows, licked her lips, and tucked a strand of curly chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. Her fingers grazed his when she offered him the toxicology report. She was flirting, clear as day. “I can send you the results electronically, if you prefer, Agent Somers,” she said, nodding at his phone.

“That’d be dank…um, great,” Somers answered a little too enthusiastically. “Mulder, you want Dr. Alling’s hardcopy?” He pointed to the report in her hand.

“Yes, I do.” Mulder swore he could smell the swirl of their pheromones over the morgue’s omnipresent stench of decay. “What exactly are we looking at, Dr. Alling?” he asked, trying to draw her attention back to the corpse.

“Well, the victim was male.”

“At one time.”

Alling crossed the room to join Mulder beside the body. Somers trailed after her.

“While his death is clearly suspicious, I wasn't able to determine an exact cause.” Alling’s attention flicked between the deceased, Mulder, and Somers. “The hardening of the epidermis, dermis, and subcutaneous tissue — which goes far beyond any known systemic sclerosis — made a conventional autopsy impossible. Though frankly, dissection was hardly necessary. As you can see, there are no organs present. No body fluids to collect. No stomach contents to examine. Time of death is indeterminate. To be honest, I was unable to make a medical diagnosis or even provide a cogent summary because there’s insufficient evidence on which to draw any conclusions. In short, gentlemen, I’m stumped. I guess that’s why you were called in.”

“We do specialize in these types of cases.” Somers drew himself up to his full height, clearly posturing for Alling’s benefit. It seemed to work. She graced him with an appreciative smile.

“What about fingerprints?” Mulder asked.

“Using a standard fingerprint card was impossible given the rigidity and fragility of the hands,” Alling said, tearing her eyes from Somers to glance at Mulder. “So I tried a live scan. The results were poor at best and yielded no matches. And before you ask, I found no latent prints on the body or its covering.”

“Any toxicology results worth noting?”

“I had a skin sample tested. Results were indeterminate for drugs or chemicals.”

“No protease? Or collagenase?”

“Digestive enzymes?” Alling checked her notes. “No. Why?”

“How about luciferine?”

Scully had found protease and collagenase in Stites’ victims. And the docs at the high containment facility where Mulder and Scully were quarantined after being exposed to a swarm of bioluminescent insects, discovered large concentrations of the chemical luciferene in their lungs. Mulder remembered thinking a chemical named after the Devil himself must be pretty damn toxic.

Alling frowned and shook her head. “None of those compounds were present, Agent Mulder, however, I did find a trace of α-latrotoxin.”

“Which is…?”

“A neurotoxin found in spider venom. But the amount was so slight, I assumed the sample was contaminated at the scene. There were a variety of insect casings stuck to the…the…container.” Alling waved an open palm at the cocoon.

“And what exactly is that thing?” Mulder asked.

“Proteins mostly, nonpolar and hydrophobic amino acids.”

“Meaning…?”

Alling shrugged. “It’s new to me.” She turned from Mulder to look at Somers. “Sorry, I couldn’t give you more.”

Her tone made the words sound more like an innuendo than an apology.

“Me, too,” Somers said with a sigh.

Mulder suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Alling headed for the door, then walked back to Somers and murmured something too low for Mulder to hear. Somers’ jaw dropped and his cheeks pinked. “Sounds good,” he said. Alling broke out in a Cheshire Cat grin before she exited the room, hips swaying, curls bouncing.

Hook, line, and sinker, Somers was a goner, Mulder predicted. But the question, he mused, was whether or not Alling was a catch-and-release kind of gal or did she play for keeps?

“Look at you, my young friend, all cute and cuddly, attracting attention in the best possible way,” Mulder said. “Get her number?”

“Sorry. It’s just…I didn’t…she’s…ah…sorry.”

“Don't apologize. I remember what it’s like. As difficult as it may be for you to picture, I was young once.” Mulder motioned him toward the exit. “Shall we visit the crime scene before I start batting my eyelashes at you, too?” He winked and blew Somers a kiss.

Somers huffed, tucked his phone away, and headed for the door.

Mulder followed him out. “You got something to say, Junior?”

“Kiss my ass.”

Mulder smiled. “Temptress.”

FBI HEADQUARTERS
11:02 AM

“There you are,” Mulder said when Scully came through their office door. “How did your doctor’s appointment go?”

"You popped corn?" Scully's eyes widened. God, it smelled delicious. She was hungrier than she realized. Ignoring Mulder’s question, she crossed the room to where he stood rocking on the balls of his feet, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms wrapped around a big bowl of freshly popped corn.

She reached for a handful.

"Uh-uh," he said, lifting the bowl high above her head and smiling. "Gotta earn it, Scully."

"What? Mulder!” She stood on tiptoes and grabbed for the bowl.

He rose on his toes, too, placing the popcorn impossibly beyond her reach.

"Since when do we not share?” she asked.

"Switch off the lights."

"Excuse me?"

"The lights. Off." His eyes targeted the bowl. He waggled his brows.

"Fine." She went to the wall switch and flicked off the room’s overhead lights, plunging the office into semi-darkness. "What's this about?"

"Show time, Scully!" Mulder's projector hummed to life and shot a beam of light toward the wall. A slide dropped into place. Scully found herself looking at an image of--

"A severed hand?"

"Belonged to Harvey Akins, USGS, Biological Resources Division, last seen heading into Vermont's Green Mountains."

"For the purpose of...?"

Mulder slouched against his desk. He patted the vacant spot beside him with one hand and shook the bowl of popcorn with the other.

Lips pursed, Scully moved to join him. With a small hop, she settled beside him on his desk. He helped himself to a handful of corn and then placed the bowl in her lap.

A few seconds passed. Mulder stared in silence at the photo of Harvey Atkins’ severed hand.

“Is there a problem, Mulder?” she asked.

“No, it’s just...” He turned to look at her, his expression serious. “You sure you’re okay, Scully? Nothing you want to tell me?”

Should she?

I wouldn’t want this to come between us.

These were Mulder’s exact words when he’d agreed to father her child. She understood what he meant, truly. She felt the same about losing the closeness and friendship they shared. Not to mention their professional relationship. What would she do if their partnership suffered because of a change in the status quo, a change initiated by her? Transfer? Never see him again? It was unthinkable and not worth the risk of being overly candid with him, pushing her agenda and her priorities on him. He didn’t need to hear the minutia of her morning and she didn’t feel like sharing it in any case. Some things were better left unsaid.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Nothing?”

“Not at this time. Continue your slideshow.”

He gave her a dubious look, but went on to explain the details of the case. ”Harvey and his two companions, Ted Rosenthal and Danielle Valdez," he said, talking around a mouthful of corn, "researchers from the National Wildlife Management Institute and UVM's Wildlife Research Unit respectively, were searching Glastenbury Mountain for a large carnivorous animal, allegedly responsible for devouring a family of four, surname Kerber, who had been hiking on the mountain the previous week."

Harvey Akins' dismembered left hand appeared larger than life on the wall. The sun glared off his wedding ring. Blood darkened the surrounding ground.

"I'd say Mr. Akins found his carnivorous animal, Mulder. Or it found him."

"I'm thinking this might be a case of unnatural selection, Scully."

"Meaning...?"

"Glastenbury Mountain. Hotspot for UFO activity, strange lights, sounds, odors, specters, and mysterious creatures."

"You aren't going to show me a picture of a mutilated cow, are you?"

"Why would I do that?" He flipped to the next slide, which showed a close-up view of Harvey's severed wrist. "Cast your forensic peepers on that, Scully. In your professional opinion, does that look like the work of an animal?"

Scully had to admit it didn't. "Mr. Akins hand appears to have been cut off with a knife or fine-toothed saw,” she said. "Do you have any pictures of the body?"

"No. But check this out." Mulder flipped to the next slide.

"Right femur," Scully said. "Broken at the narrowest point of the shaft. Looks like a child's. What does it have to do with Harvey Akins?"

"Lab tests indicate it belonged to eight-year-old Tommy Kerber."

"One of the missing hikers." Scully rooted through the popcorn for old maids.

"Yep. It's the only forensic evidence recovered from the mountain -- other than Akins' left hand. The really curious thing about Tommy's femur is that it contained no bone marrow. None at all.”

"So?" Scully found an unpopped kernel. She showed it to Mulder and smiled before popping it into her mouth and crunching it loudly between her back teeth. "Some woodland creature probably ate it."

"Exactly." Mulder turned to sort through a pile of dusty newspapers on his desk. "Ever hear of the 'Bennington Beast,' a.k.a., the 'Glastenbury Gorilla'?"

"Please do not tell me you suspect Bigfoot. Need I remind you--"

"Who said anything about Bigfoot?" He pulled an old issue of the Bennington Banner from the stack and held it up for Scully to see. He tapped the headline, which read: Missing Woman's Body Found! "Frieda Langer went missing on October 28, 1949, while hiking on Glastenbury Mountain with her cousin Herbert Elsner. After falling into a stream, Frieda told her cousin to wait while she ran the half mile back to camp to change clothes. She never arrived there. Search teams combed the area and found nothing. Followup searches on November 5 through 7 also turned up nothing. Same result on November 11 and 12 when more than three hundred military personnel, police, firemen, and volunteers scoured the mountain. The following spring, Langer's remains finally turned up on an open ledge where she couldn’t have been missed during the searches. The cause of her death was never conclusively determined. Locals, however, suspected the Bennington Beast."

"The Bennington Beast."

Mulder advanced the projector to the next slide. Something large and dark blurred the center of the picture, blocking out the pine trees and underbrush. "Photographer Bruce Hallenback snapped this photo on Glastenbury Mountain in 1994 while hiking Long Trail to the summit."

"It's nothing but a blur, Mulder."

"Hallenback claims it's the Beast. And he's not the only person to have seen it either. There have been stories about a killer beast in Bennington as long ago as the late 1800s when a stagecoach was attacked and overturned on what is now Highway 9, just west of Glastenbury Mountain. The occupants of the coach survived to tell the tale of a hideous creature that, after capsizing them, escaped into the forest."

"Two words, Mulder: urban legend. Did anyone in the stagecoach disappear or get killed?"

"No, but they saw what they saw."

"Stories about ape-like men and Dr. Moreau-esque lycanthropes are just that...stories."

"Two words, Scully: Jersey Devil."

"The Jersey Devil was not an ape man or even an ape woman. She was as homo sapient as you or I."

Mulder tossed the newspaper back on his desk. "Okay, Scully, I'm willing to leave the Bennington Beast theory...for now. There are other possibilities, all equally X-Filish."

"Such as?"

Mulder advanced the projector and a new slide replaced the black blur, filling the wall with an aerial view of the Green Mountains. A fire tower topped the summit of one craggy hill. "Glastenbury Mountain," -- Mulder walked to the wall and pinpointed the fire tower with an index finger -- "is located in an area of Vermont sometimes referred to as the 'Bennington Triangle,' so called because four people disappeared from there in 1899. Ten more vanished in 1949, including Frieda Langer. Langer's body was the only one ever recovered. Did I mention, all of her bones were broken?”

"All of them?"

“According to the accounts. Frieda was the final victim...until the Kerber family vanished last week."

"Hikers get lost in the woods everyday, Mulder. They’re missing persons cases, not X-Files."

"Twenty-one people, Scully, counting the Kerbers and the biology researchers. All on the same mountain." He swiveled to look at her, hands on his hips.

"Maybe it's a particularly dangerous mountain."

"It is, but not in the way you’re thinking. Glastenbury Mountain is the mother lode of X-Files. Take your pick: alien abductions, magic stepping stones, cursed winds, interdimensional horizons -- all are said to exist there, and all could explain the multiple disappearances."

"Interdimensional horizons?"

"Doorways, if you will, between universes. People step in, but they don't step out."

"Ah." Scully crunched another unpopped kernel.

"Fifty years separated the first group of vanishments from the second. Another fifty years passed between the disappearances of Frieda Langer and the Kerber family. Did I mention that Ms. Langer was found with all of her bone marrow missing?"

His last statement stilled her chewing. "Hmm. Change fifty years to thirty and bone marrow to liver -- you could be talking about Eugene Victor Tooms."

“That crossed my mind.” He studied the image on the wall. "We're flying to Vermont in an hour.”

An hour? Parenti’s advice was to stay home and take it easy. But she was honestly feeling fine. There was no excuse not to go. Besides, she’d be needing time off in the near future if all went well with the fertilization process.

"Considering the excess of paranormal possibilities waiting for us there,” she said, “I'm amazed we haven't visited before." She pitched a fluffy kernel of popcorn at him. It bounced off his head and landed somewhere beneath a bookcase.

He faced her and opened his mouth, inviting her to try again. She aimed and lobbed one high and on target. With only the slightest dodge, he caught it on his tongue, delighting them both.

Crunching the kernel, he shut off his projector. "Don't forget to pack your fly dope, Scully," he said, turning to find her at his side. "I hear the mosquitoes are big enough to carry you away."

"Well, maybe that's the answer to your mystery right there."

This brought a smile. He snagged his suit coat. "Mutant mosquitoes. Not exactly what I was thinking, Scully, but it's very James Arness, a la Alamogordo. I like it."

227702 WALLACE ROAD
FARRS CORNER, VIRGINIA

An hour before sundown, Jenna Weber steered her beat-up Honda Civic into the unpaved driveway of her recently purchased home. Her 6-year-old twin daughters Isla and Luna sat behind her, buckled into their booster seats and looking like a pair of limp rag dolls. The car’s AC gave out back in Baltimore, so Jenna had opened the windows in a failed attempt to cool them all off.

A crew from the SwiftRelo Moving Company was starting to unload furniture from a van parked near the front steps. Jenna watched two sweating men maneuver one of the girls’ beds up onto the dilapidated porch.

“Come on, girls. Out of the car. We need to show these guys where everything goes.”

“I want to see our bedroom,” Isla said.

“Me, too.” Luna unbuckled her seatbelt and was out the door before Jenna shut off the engine.

“Hold up. Do not go running off.” Jenna used her strictest parenting voice. “I don’t want either of you to get in the movers’ way.”

Both girls waited with impatient expressions while Jenna grabbed her purse and exited the car.

“Look, Mommy!” Luna said, when Jenna joined the girls at the front of her car. Luna pointed at the house next door. “There’s a tree swing!”

Sure enough, a rope swing hung from an ancient maple beside the neighbor’s rather unremarkable house. There was considerable distance between the two homes. A broad, weedy field and a dilapidated fence separated the properties. Evergreen trees provided a bit of privacy.

“Maybe the neighbors have kids?” Isla asked hopefully.

“Maybe.” Jenna slung her purse over her shoulder and took hold of the girls’ hands. “Come on, let’s go talk to the movers.”

The movers stopped what they were doing as the three approached. The men's eyes widened. Twins attracted stares in general, Jenna knew, but her girls more than most. Their pale, colorless skin, snow-white hair, and pink eyes drew attention wherever they went.

Albinos. The term was often hurled their way as an epithet. Hurtful whispers. Derisive shouts. Children could be so cruel. Adults even worse.

This move was intended to be a fresh start. The girls had been through a lot in the past year. Bullying at school. Moving three times. As a single mom, Jenna was solely in charge of their wellbeing and she felt the weight of that responsibility. She hoped things would be better here and they could stay put for a while.

“Go on in, girls.” She nudged them past the gawping movers. “Check out your bedroom.”

1678 OCANA STREE
EAST BALTIMORE
8:01 PM

Mulder parked close to the warehouse’s side entrance. He and Somers remained in their seats, taking a moment to scan the exterior, which appeared molten in the dying rays of the setting sun.

“Shall we?” Mulder asked at length, loathing to leave the cool AC behind. He killed the engine.

They exited the car. Not a breath of wind stirred the heavy evening air. Heat rippled up from the paved lot, carrying the scent of baked tar and spilled motor oil. Sweat broke out along Mulder’s hairline, beneath his collar, and down his back. He longed to shuck his suit coat and tie. What he wouldn’t give right now to be back at home in swim trunks teaching Katie how to dive off the float in the pond behind their house.

Crime scene tape sealed the warehouse’s front entrance. Mulder tore it loose and pulled the rusted, windowless door open. “After you.” He gestured with a wave of his hand.

“Body was found in the stairwell, upper landing, near the exit to the roof,” Somers said once they were both inside. He tried the light switch by the door. “Power must be off.”

Both men withdrew flashlights and panned their beams across the concrete floor and steel pillars, probing the shadowed recesses. The space was vast, musty, and empty, and at least twenty degrees cooler than outside. Praise Jesus. Greasy puddles slicked the floor. Vivid graffiti colored the walls, even three stories up. Tentacled monsters, watchful eyes, gang signs.

“Stairs are over there.” Mulder targeted an open door in a back corner with his light.

The men’s footfalls echoed against the ceiling and walls as they trekked through the building. Arriving at the stairwell, Somers took the lead. Three flights zigzagged up to the roof. Stopping on the second landing, Somers grunted with disgust while waving his arms around his head.

“What’s the matter?” Mulder asked.

“Walked into a cobweb.” Somers swiped again at the air.

Mulder chuckled. “Thanks for clearing the way.” As much as he missed Scully, having a tall partner had its perks.

“Next time, you’re going first,” Somers grumbled and moved on.

“I was taught it’s women and children first.”

“That’s funny, I was taught it’s age before beauty.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. I left my hearing aid at home with my compression socks and Clonidine.”

Somers glanced back at Mulder, a look of confusion on his face. “Literally half the time I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What, no Boomer translator app on that phone of yours?”

They paused at the uppermost landing. The floor was streaked with a tarry substance. Mulder donned a pair of latex gloves and crouched over the broad, congealing stain. He scratched up a sample with his fingertip. Rubbed it between his thumb and index. Took a sniff. Whatever it was, it smelled bad, like a mix of blood and vomit, with a slight chemical tang. “Did Alling’s report say what this stuff was?”

Somers checked the digital copy on his phone. “Yep. Contains the same cellular components found in human tissue, skin, muscle, and blood.”

“Lovely.” Mulder tried and failed to shake the substance from his hand.

“Also, a mix of hydrolases: lipases and proteases,” Somers continued reading, “and toxins and regulatory proteins, similar to the digestive enzymes of some arthropods.”

Arthropods? For real? Mulder’s internal Monster EWS began to tingle. Was it possible they were dealing with a creature whose digestive enzymes caused the breakdown of the victim’s tissues and cells, similar to Stites’ reptiles, but from a completely different phyla?

“Siri, what are arthropods?” Somers asked his phone.

Before it had time to respond, Mulder said, “Arachnids, crustaceans, myriapods.”

Somers turned his attention to Mulder. “Which are…?”

“Centipedes, millipedes, spiders, mites, ticks.” Mulder rose to his feet before continuing. “Scorpions, slaters, prawn, crabs—”

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“Eat my dust, Siri.” Mulder aimed the beam of his flashlight at the ceiling.

Twelve feet overhead, a pale, sticky residue marked the corner where the cocoon had once hung. His light glinted off what appeared to be silken strands and silvery fibers matted with a milky glue or paste.

“Shall we check the roof for the victim’s head?” Mulder asked.

“Local PD already looked there.”

“They aren’t us."

Muggy evening air flowed into the stairwell when Mulder opened the rooftop door, carrying with it the brackish odor of the nearby Patapsco River. The two men stepped out into a deepening twilight. City lights and a rising moon cast a dim glow over the flat expanse of roof, gilding several rainwater puddles with flashes of copper and gold. Vents snaked in and out of an ancient HVAC system to the left of the door. Its rusty fans sat still and silent. Guardrails rimmed the building’s perimeter. The only sound was the steady hum of evening traffic on I-95 to the north.

“Back at the morgue, you mentioned protease, collagenase, and luciferene,” Somers said. “Were you thinking this killer might be something like the bioluminescent insects you encountered in Washington state…or that lizard guy Stites?”

Ah, so Junior had done his homework. “Good to see you’ve familiarized yourself with past X-Files cases.”

“I like to keep informed.” Somers aimed his flashlight in and around the HVAC system. “So? Your thoughts?”

“This is something different.” Mulder followed the railing along the building’s outer edge. A small, pale bundle caught his eye, attached to the outside of one of the posts. He crouched and stuck his head between the top and middle rails.

It was a cocoon, identical to the one in the morgue but only about 12 or 13 inches long.

“Somers, take a look at this.” Mulder pulled the cocoon loose with one gloved hand.

Somers joined him at the rail.

“Give me more light,” Mulder asked.

Somers aimed his beam onto the object, while Mulder pried it open with his thumbs. The fibrous cocoon gave way easily. Inside was a plastic doll, completely naked.

“What is that? A Barbie doll?” Somers asked.

“Not quite. It’s Ken.” Mulder tugged it free from the cocoon and held it up for Somers to see. “Someone’s not a Ryan Gosling fan. He’s missing his head."

MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE
9:36 PM

Scully emptied the dishwasher, wiped down the counters, then poured herself a glass of wine. Katie was asleep in bed. Mulder was on his way home from work. Breathing in the quiet, Scully set her wet sponge by the sink to dry.

On the counter beside her wine glass was a letter she’d received from Aliceanna Family Medicine, a growing practice in Fells Point, inviting her to join their staff as a GP. The timing was right. She always assumed she would go back to work after Katie started kindergarten, which was just a few short weeks away. To that end, she’d kept her CPD training up to date after leaving Our Lady of Sorrows. But she wasn’t sure a general practice was the best fit for her. And the commute to AFM was a long one. It would take her away from Katie for more hours than she’d like. Yet she was eager to put her medical skills to use again, beyond treating Katie’s skinned knees and mosquito bites.

Raising Katie, watching her grow, taking care of her every need had been the most joyful time of Scully’s life. She wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything. However, Katie no longer needed her the way she used to and soon her baby girl would be off to school learning how to add and write and socialize and become an independent person — all good things — but her absence was going to leave Scully with empty hours to fill. And she felt she still had a lot to offer as a doctor.

Mulder’s headlights flared through the kitchen windows as he pulled into the driveway. Scully abandoned the letter on the counter and went to meet him at the door.

“Welcome home,” she said, accepting his kiss.

“Nice to be home.” He nuzzled her cheek, his evening whiskers prickling her skin in a decidedly pleasant way. He smelled faintly of the morgue.

“Beer?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She pulled a bottle from the fridge while he draped his suit coat over the back of a chair in the adjoining dining room. His tie hung loose at his collar and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“You look tired, G-Man. Rough day?”

“Not really. Just hot.” He took the beer from her and wandered into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. “How about you? How was your day?”

She sat down next to him, wine glass in hand. “Oh, same old, same old. In other words, perfect. Katie and I made refrigerator cookies and hunted for frogs down at the pond. It was nice.”

“Did you save any cookies for me?” He took a long draw on his beer.

“Yes. Plus a dozen I plan to take next door in the morning. We have new neighbors.”

“We do?”

“Moved in today. I saw the van arrive late this afternoon.”

“Any idea who bought the place?”

“No.” It was hard to imagine anyone wanting it, though she supposed the same could’ve been said about their house when they first moved in. “Katie’s hoping they have kids. She’d like to have someone to play with.” Scully twirled her glass and watched the wine swirl. “She told me today she’d like a baby sister.”

Mulder nearly choked on his beer. “What did you say?”

“I’m ashamed to admit I purposely diverted her attention. Asked if she wanted to make cookies.”

“Scully.”

“Well, what should I have said? It’s not like we’re going to have any more children.”

“Would you like another child?”

“I’m actually thinking of going back to work.”

He nodded but didn’t weigh in. The decision was hers, she knew. He would support whatever she wanted to do.

They sat in comfortable silence while he finished his beer. Leaning forward, he set the empty bottle on the coffee table, then braced his forearms on his knees.

“Scully, you and I…we never….” He waved a hand in the air, palm up, which gave her no clue as to what he was talking about.

“Never what?”

“Openly flirted.” He turned to face her. “While on the job, I mean. In front of our coworkers. We didn’t, right?”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

He looked stricken. “We did?”

“Not ‘we’ so much as you,” she said.

“Me? Just me?”

“All of those innuendoes? You don’t consider that flirting?”

“Nah, innuendoes don’t count.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because…I was just joking around. Teasing.”

“Teasing is flirting, Mulder. Besides, I believe you wanted me to take your off-color jokes seriously.”

“Not…exactly.”

“For a man with a photographic memory, your photo album is missing a few snapshots.”

“Okay, I admit, I flirted a little, but no more than you did.”

“You must be mistaking me for one of your other partners.”

“No, no, no. I distinctly recall you giving me…looks.”

“What looks? Disbelief? Confusion? Exasperation?”

“No. ‘Come hither’ looks.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mulder.”

“Yes. And…you were constantly touching me.”

“I was constantly touching you? Give me one example.”

“Kroner, Kansas. You pawed through my hair like a dog burying a bone, on the pretense of checking for a head injury. And that wasn’t the only time.”

She huffed because he was wasn’t entirely wrong. “That wasn’t a pretense, Mulder, but okay. Maybe we both flirted. Honestly, at the time I thought we were being fairly discreet, until I overheard some uncharitable water-cooler gossip. We weren’t fooling anyone.”

“I never heard any water-cooler gossip.”

“Well, I certainly did.”

“Huh.” He leaned back. “I did see your home phone number scrawled on the wall in the fourth floor men’s bathroom.”

“What?”

“Second stall from the end.”

“You didn’t put it there, did you?”

“Of course not.” He looked mildly offended.

“I ask only because you once traded my number to Frohike for a pair of night vision goggles.”

“I never.” He dismissed his lie with a chuff of laughter. “You know I hate sharing.” He took her free hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.

She gave him a gentle squeeze. “What brought all this up?”

“Somers and the M.E. were flirting shamelessly in front of me this afternoon.”

Ah. “Jealous?”

“Maybe. A little. Or a lot. I don’t know. I guess I just miss our repartee.” He drew her to him, took her wineglass from her hand and set it on the end table, before folding her into a loose embrace. She relaxed against him. “Do I seem old to you?” he asked, sounding a little insecure, which wasn’t at all like him.

The question reminded her of a similar conversation they’d had six years ago in the St. Rachel Hotel, when she asked him nearly the same thing and he’d assured her she still had it going on. Scoot in her boot, he’d said. She was pretty sure Katie was conceived that night.

“Are you kidding, Mulder?” She ran her fingers over his muscled chest. “You’re as sexy as ever.”

He had no reason to doubt his sex appeal. To be honest, she preferred this mature version of him. A few silver hairs glistened at his temples and the years had lined his face, but he was as strong and hardbodied as ever. He worked out regularly, still running five miles several times a week, while also lifting weights, heavy bag boxing, pushups, pull-ups, squats, you name it, he did it all and it showed.

The biggest difference she noticed? He was now driven by curiosity instead of umbrage and distrust. He was more considerate, more settled, doting on her and Katie in a way she couldn’t have imagined in their early years together. As an investigator, he was at the top of his game, chasing down killers and mutants, but whenever possible he was home to kiss their daughter goodnight before falling into bed with Scully. His vigor and virility left her weak in the knees while his love for their child melted her heart. No, this was Mulder at his best.

“You never seem to age.” He didn’t sound resentful. In fact, he sounded pleased.

She responded with a rueful chuckle. Although she felt healthy and strong, she’d noticed her skin was beginning to lose its youthful elasticity. Her neck would be the first to go, she knew, and found herself occasionally checking the mirror for signs of an inevitable turkey wattle, a fate all women seemed to face sooner or later. She’d always hoped to accept the aging process gracefully, wear it like a badge of honor, but having reached middle age some time ago, maybe not. This unexpected vanity both irritated and embarrassed her.

“Maybe Bruckman was right?” she suggested, although she’d never given any credence to his prediction that she would live forever.

“Maybe.” His gaze traveled across her face, briefly surveying her features before looking into her eyes. “About you. Hopefully not about me.”

She nodded and smiled.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “What first attracted you to me?” His words puffed warmly against her skin.

“Your intelligence.”

“That sounds like something a woman would say to a man who isn’t very attractive.”

“Smart is sexy,” she reminded him.

“Hmm.” He kissed her hair, her cheek, and finally her lips. Passionately. Coming up for air, he asked, “Anything else?”

“You really want to know?”

“I do.”

“Okay, but…this is a little embarrassing.”

“Oh?”

“Your forearms.”

He blinked at her. “For real?”

“For real. The day we met, your sleeves were rolled up, much like they are now.” She gave his arms an appreciative once-over. “When you reached out to shake my hand, well, that’s all it took. I was done for.”

He looked down at his arms. Turned his hands from palms up to palms down. Spread his fingers, curled them into fists. Flexors, extensors, abductors, brachioradialis rippled beneath his tan skin. “Huh.”

“You men have no idea the power you hold over us.” She slid onto his lap, straddling him. His growing erection pressed hotly into the valley between her legs. She ground against him, making him moan. “I want you.” She’d never meant it more. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“No. Right here.” His tone was so commanding, it made her legs go rubbery.

“But Katie—”

“She won’t come down here. She’s more apt to come into our bedroom than down the stairs at night.”

It was true. It was also true that a herd of elephants could stampede through the house and it wouldn’t wake Katie. Even so, Scully warned, “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Like I’m the noisy one,” Mulder said with a grin.

He rose from the couch, dislodging her from his lap. She stood, too, while he removed his tie and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Without warning, he grabbed and lifted her, then carried her into the kitchen with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. She felt young again and as eager for him as their first time. It was astonishing he could still make her feel this way after all these years. She thrust her tongue into his mouth while his fingers gripped her ass. Jesus, she loved him.

He set her on the kitchen counter next to the sink. Standing in front of her, he peppered her face with kisses before plowing his lips into her neck. He nuzzled her there, his jaw sandpaper rough, his tongue lapping and soothing the chaffing he caused. Sharp teeth nipped at her ear, her neck. Lips, tongue, teeth — she felt as if she were being devoured…and she loved it. Her sex drive had increased considerably during her forties, even more so in her fifties, it seemed. A natural instinct to propagate before it’s too late, she imagined, honed by millions of years of evolution, pushing her to replicate her genes while she was still able. Whatever the cause, she was insatiable, it seemed, constantly daydreaming about him making love to her, encouraging his advances, making advances of her own. It must be how eighteen-year-old males felt. Sex on the brain. She supposed her interest would wane when she went through menopause but so far she hadn’t experienced that change. Might as well enjoy the feeling while it lasted. Like now.

Her fingers feathered his hair while his hands skated over her shoulders, down her arms, around her back, and across her torso. He paused at her breasts.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when you don’t wear a bra?” A low growl of appreciation vibrated in his throat. He filled his palms with her breasts, kneading her through her shirt. Her nipples puckered beneath his touch. Noticing the change, he groaned again and plundered her mouth with his tongue while he fumbled at her waistband, unbuttoned her shorts, and drew the zipper down.

“Lift up,” he urged.

She planted her palms on the counter and pushed up. As soon as her ass was in the air, he yanked her shorts and panties down her legs, over her knees and calves, and off her feet. Her flip flops went with them, leaving her completely nude from the waist down.

“Spread your legs.” He dropped her clothes to the floor and stepped between her knees. “Wider.”

She did as he asked and braced herself with stiffened arms while he plunged a finger into her.

“Oh God!” She thrust her hips forward and dropped her head back.

She liked this confident, demanding side to Mulder, at this moment preferring it over his more gentle and considerate lovemaking. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Or him. But they’d been together long enough to know that passion came in a variety of forms. Sometimes they were tender and romantic, other times they succumbed to an almost desperate animal lust.

“So wet,” he said, his pleasure evident. He slipped a second finger into her. His other hand gripped the back of her neck and drew her to him. He covered her mouth with his own.

She moaned against his lips. Pushed her tongue deep inside his mouth, which tasted of beer and something spicy he’d eaten earlier. His fingers drove in and out of her. Her scent filled the air, slicked her thighs, his hand. She briefly thought about how the counter would need a good scrubbing after they were finished, until his thumb found her clitoris and traced circles there, making her forget about everything but him.

Her orgasm began to build. Each stroke brought her closer. Heat crawled up her chest, across her shoulders. Sweat beaded on her brow, settled in the creases of her neck, and ran in rivulets down her spine. She buried her face against his collar to keep from crying out. He grabbed the hem of her shirt with his free hand and pushed it up high enough to bare her breasts. AC’ed air swept across her exposed skin. He bent his head and latched onto a nipple with his mouth. The sensation shot downward through her, ballooning into her abdomen. He sucked harder. Flicked his tongue over her. Dear God, she was almost there.

Until he bit her. Hard. She yelped in pain. Shoved him away. His fingers slid out of her. “Mulder…!” Startled and disappointed and without forethought, she slapped his cheek, stinging her palm and knocking him back another step.

His eyes rounded. His jaw fell slack. He absently rubbed his reddening skin. “Scully…?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. But you bit me! You left teeth marks!”

Sure enough, pink indentations in two curving rows circled her nipple, raw and throbbing.

He took in the sight. Nodded. Then returned to her and edged back between her legs. But instead of comforting her, he unfastened his belt and unzipped his fly. His brief moment of contrition had vanished, replaced by stark carnal need.

The ache on her breast was replaced by an aching desire between her legs. She reached into his boxers to release his cock, fully engorged, skin silken smooth and hot to the touch. She reached lower to cup his balls.

“Fuck….” He shut his eyes and tilted his chin toward the ceiling. She watched his Adam’s apple glide upward in his throat.

Nudging her hands aside, he took hold of himself. With a determined grunt, he pushed into her, shallow at first but deeper on his second thrust. It rocked her back. She gripped his arms to keep from toppling. She felt like she was being split in two as he pumped into her. Again. And again. The jarring motion rattled her teeth while the friction between her legs ignited a fire in her belly. The heat and pressure expanded with each pounding thrust until once again she was on the verge of orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

Sweat dripped from his nose and his chin. His hair stuck wetly to his forehead. She would have bruises where his fingers gripped her hips.

“Come for me,” he growled as he buried himself in her.

And that’s all it took. She moaned through gritted teeth. Ecstasy swallowed her. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, numbing her limbs, deafening her to his words of encouragement. She rode it out, muscles contracting, heart pounding. All too soon, it passed and she could breathe again, hear again, leaving only an exquisite pressure deep within her abdomen.

Now it was her turn to encourage him. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Dug her nails into his muscular arms. Demanded, “Look at me.”

His eyes sought hers, his pupils dilated to an impossible size. She saw devotion in his gaze.

She caressed his cheek. “I love you, Mulder.”

He circled his arms around her. Thrust into her once, twice, three more times before he came, his cry stifled against her shoulder. She felt a gush of slick warmth. The friction between them lessened. He collapsed against her, sweaty and spent. She held onto him as the thudding of his heart slowed.

It took a moment for him to catch his breath. He stroked her sweat-dampened hair. Planted gentle kisses on the crown of her head. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her heated cheek. “Breathtakingly…beautiful.”

She felt beautiful. And desirable. And sexy. He could still make her feel that way. Again and again. Always.

THE NEXT MORNING

Showered, shaved, and dressed for the office, Mulder went to Katie’s bedroom to get her up for the day. It was their routine to have him wake her and then make her breakfast while Scully showered. Since Katie was often asleep when he got home from work, he cherished this morning ritual which allowed him some welcome one-on-one time with his little girl.  

“Rise and shine, pipsqueak.” He palmed her head and kissed her cheek.

“Is it morning?” She blinked against the daylight. Her face lit up at the sight of him, warming his heart. She reached out and fingered his tie, her smile fading. “Oh, you’re going to work.” Her disappointment was clear. “Can you call Uncle Walter and tell him you have to stay home with me today?”

“Sorry, sweetie, not today.” He lifted her from her bed. Her cotton PJs held the cozy scent of her small body. “Uncle Walt has me working on a case.”

“A mewdant case?”

“Maybe,” he said. Katie loved his mutant stories, watered down, of course, to make them less scary. Her current favorite was the were-monster because Scully got a dog in the end. Mulder shifted her to one arm, grabbed her rag doll “Lisa” from her pillow, and carried them both down the stairs. 

“Daddy, I don’t have anyone to play with,” Katie said with a pout.

“You have Mommy.”

“Mommy’s always busy.”

“I don’t think that’s true. She said you two made cookies and hunted for frogs yesterday.” Mulder set Katie in her chair at the dining table, passed her doll to her, then poured her a glass of milk. “You can always play with Lisa.”

“Lisa’s just a doll, Daddy.”

Hm, that was an about-face for Katie, who insisted Lisa have her own chair at the table and even her own plate and silverware. Like now. Katie plopped Lisa into the chair next to hers. “I want a baby sister,” Katie stated.

“Mommy told you where babies come from, right?” Mulder dropped a frozen waffle into the toaster.

Katie nodded. “Her tummy. So, when will she have another one?”

“Not everyone gets as many babies as they want, sweetheart."

“What if I pray for one? Will God put a baby in Mommy’s tummy?”

“Stranger things have happened.” Mulder wasn’t fully on board with Katie attending church every Sunday but it was a battle he hadn’t wanted to wage. Scully’s faith was part of her. She was adamant about bringing up Katie in the Catholic faith. Given that, Mulder wasn’t about to tell Katie he didn’t believe in God. However, he did believe in miracles. One was sitting right here, waiting for her breakfast. The other was upstairs in the shower. “You want sliced bananas on your waffle?”

“Yes, please.”

Mulder prepared Katie’s waffle and drizzled a little syrup on top. He’d learned months ago not to let her pour her own. He set the plate in front of her. “Ta-da.”

“I have a loose tooth,” she announced and wiggled it for him.

“So I see.” Her first loose tooth. Already? It seemed only yesterday she was a newborn with no teeth at all.

“Will it come out today?” she asked.

“If you keep tugging at it like that, it will. Want me to pull it now?” he teased, reaching toward her.

“No!” She covered her mouth with both hands. “But if it falls out today,” she said from behind her fingers, "I’m going to stay awake tonight so I can see the Tooth Fairy.”

Mulder’s issues about Scully and Katie’s faith in God didn’t apply to a belief in the Tooth Fairy, or to any other legendary mythical figures.

“It doesn’t work that way, pipsqueak. The Tooth Fairy only comes when you’re asleep.”

“Like Santa Claus?”

“Exactly.”

Scully arrived, showered but still in her robe, just as Mulder’s phone buzzed with a text alert. He checked the message.

“Good timing, Scully,” he said, pocketing his cell. “That’s Skinner. Baltimore Public Works found a second victim. I want to get there before the body’s moved.”

“You go.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ve got everything covered here.”

“Thank you.” His gaze lingered on her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Sorry about last night. I got a little overzealous.” He glanced past her to make sure Katie was focused on her breakfast before gently stroking the breast he’d bitten. “Inexcusable.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better. I have quite a bruise this morning.”

“You’re welcome to slap me again.” He winked before breaking away to give Katie a kiss goodbye. “Have a great day, pipsqueak. I love you.”

“I will, Daddy. I love you, too.” She gave him a bright grin before returning her attention to her waffle.

It was a picture perfect start to his day.

EAST EMERSON AVENUE
BALTIMORE

Mulder’s day went downhill quickly once he learned the latest body was located in the Baltimore City sewer. Memories of the flukeman in the Newark County Sewage Plant came flooding back to him. The stench had been godawful. To think, he took in a mouthful of that foul water when he jumped in to save Ray, the plant foreman, from being dragged out to sea by a man-sized flatworm. He’d ruined a perfectly good pair of wingtips, too, and it seemed to take months for the smell of human excrement to wash out of his hair.

Baltimore’s wastewater system included over 3,100 miles of aging sewer pipes and 50,000 storm drains. Two-hundred-and-fifty million gallons of wastewater a day ran through them. Newer sections were PVC pipe, many no bigger than twenty-four inches. Older sections were hulking six-foot-tall, brick-and-concrete tunnels that looked more like catacombs than a sewer line. Mulder and Somers were headed to one of those antiquated sections this morning.

Nothing about today’s investigation promised to be pleasant.

Arriving at the scene, Mulder parked the car behind a line of police cruisers. Far down the sidewalk, a half-dozen uniformed officers sweated in the morning heat while talking with several city sanitation workers. A coroner’s van waited to be loaded with the body. Mulder and Somers exited the car and hiked toward the men.

A skeletal, aging war veteran watched them from across the street. He sat slouched on the pavement, his back propped against a utility pole. His clothes were threadbare and stained, and his hair hung in gray, ropey clumps. In his lap, he held a handwritten cardboard sign panhandling for food. On his head he wore a faded wide-brimmed Vietnam Boonie hat. Pinned to the crown was a neon pink smilie face button. He offered Mulder and Somers a two-fingered peace gesture as they walked by. Mulder returned his greeting with a thumbs up before focusing on the job ahead.

“Did you serve in Vietnam?” Somers asked Mulder after they passed the man.

“How old do you think I am?” Mulder shook his head. “I was thirteen when Saigon fell."

Somers shrugged. “My dad did two tours in Iraq.”

“Of course he did.” Zygote.

“So…you didn’t serve in any wars?”

“Come to think of it, I did,” Mulder lied, straight faced. “The Civil War. Union Army. 12th Regiment Massachusetts. No wait, maybe it was the Continental Army, Revolutionary War. Whichever, I clearly recall tossing tea into a harbor. Riding with Paul Revere. Two if by day…or was it two if by night? Hell, it was so long ago, the details are a bit fuzzy.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“George Washington and I were besties. To this day, I cannot tell a lie.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Aren’t I?”

Mulder held out his FBI badge as they approached the group of Baltimore PD officers. A uniformed man pointed them toward a detective standing beside a set of traffic cones that marked an open manhole. Two pairs of over-the-calf rubber boots waited beside the shaft.

“I’m Detective Reynolds." Squat and jet-haired with a hawk-eyed stare and the stance of a guard dog, Reynolds pointed to the boots. “Those are for you.”

Mulder and Somers slipped on the gum rubbers while Reynolds brought them up to speed. “My forensics team's just wrapping up. We did what we could to preserve the scene for you. Area’s been thoroughly photographed and dusted for prints, which won’t yield much given the wet conditions. We left the body where we found it as per Deputy Director Skinner’s instructions.” Sweat beaded his brow and he swabbed at it with a sleeve. “Good news is, it’s cooler down there than up here. The bad news? It stinks like the Devil’s asshole.”

“Delightful,” Mulder grumbled.

“You’ll find nothing delightful down there, Agents, I promise.”

A ladder attached to the side of the shaft led down to the passage below. The three men climbed in one at a time, with the detective taking the lead. Headspace was limited inside the tunnel. Mulder and Somers had to duck to keep from brushing against the damp ceiling.

“Who found the body?” Mulder lifted the back of his hand to his nose.

“Sanitation worker,” Reynolds said, his nose crinkled in obvious disgust. “This is one case I'm happy to turn over to you guys.”

Several inches of murky water flowed through the bottom of the pipe. Mulder coughed, trying not to gag. Somers groaned at the smell.

“This way.” Reynolds began walking, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off the walls. “It’s not far.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

They slogged along in the half-dark for several minutes, the slosh of water and an occasional cough echoing off the conduit’s curved walls.

“Here we are,” Reynolds announced, stopping at the intersection of two tunnels.

Attached to the arched ceiling was a cocoon nearly identical to the one in the morgue. Its sticky outer wrapping had been slit open to expose the body inside. Nothing but a transparent shell. And no head.

“Your men dredge the sludge for anything that might identify the victim or his killer, Detective?” Mulder asked.

“Not yet, but we have a team coming.”

Mulder scuffed a boot through the sewage before he and Somers separated to inspect the scene. It didn’t take them long. Quarters were tight.

“Have your men cut the body and the, uh, wrapping down. Send it all to Quantico,” Mulder said to Reynolds, “care of Dr. Olivia Alling.”

“Will do.”

Mulder gave a “let’s get out of here” tilt of his head to Somers, who fell into step behind him without argument.

Back up on the street, Mulder toed off his borrowed boots and gulped in lungful after lungful of humid July air. Somers did the same.

“Think there’ll be more bodies like that?” Somers asked.

“I hope not, but finding two just a couple of miles apart makes me think this won’t be the last.”

“Hey, Fuzz!” the Vietnam War vet called out to them from where he still sat across the street.

Mulder pointed to himself in a “you talking to me?” gesture. The man nodded. Mulder and Somers walked over.

“I seen something,” the man said.

“What’d you see?” Mulder asked.

“Cat and his ol’ lady bookin’ it down the street. She was a bitty thing, had to run to keep up. They was swapping spit the entire way, he all octopus hands, coppin’ feels, you dig?”

“Yeah, I dig. What about them?”

“Went down there.” The man thrust his chin in the direction of the manhole where Detective Reynolds and his crew maneuvered a basket stretcher into the open drain.

“Into the sewer?”

“Yep. Cat was trippin’. Chick seemed sober though.”

“Are you tripping right now?”

“High as a kite, man,” the man said, laughing, “but I seen what I seen and that ain’t all.”

“Lay it on me,” Mulder said.

“Week later, chick comes back.”

“Alone?”

“Nope. She had two dwarf ghosts in tow.”

“Let’s go, Mulder.” Somers took a few steps toward their car.

Mulder stood firm, clearly surprising Somers, who raised his palms as if to ask “what the hell?”

“Dwarf ghosts? You’re sure about that?” When the man nodded, Mulder asked, “They all went down into the sewer?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, man. I ain’t no jive turkey.”

Mulder caught Somers mouth the words “jive turkey” with a questioning look on his face.

“Did you see them come back out?” Mulder asked the man.

“Nuh-uh. I split, man. I seen some hairy stuff in my time but that…that was wild. Too wild.”

Mulder squinted at him. He was stoned, without question, but that didn’t mean his story wasn’t true. “When did all this happen?”

“Day of stars, stripes, and firecrackers, man.”

“Fourth of July?” Mulder did the math. That would’ve been three weeks ago.

“Right on.”

“Thanks.” Mulder reached into his pants pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to the man. “Promise me you’ll spend that on food.”

The man grinned and took the money but made no promises.

At the car, Somers shook his head at Mulder. “Softy. You know he’s just going to spend that on drugs or alcohol.”

“I know no such thing.” Mulder unlocked the car and slid behind the steering wheel. “And I’m appalled by your lack of faith in your fellow man, Junior.”

Somers climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. “Dwarf ghosts? Really?”

“What, you don’t believe in ghosts? What kind of X-File investigator are you?” Mulder pushed the ignition, bringing the engine to life.

“Yes, I believe in ghosts. But I also know that junkies hallucinate when they’re high.”

“True. And maybe that guy was tripping, but it’s a lead and we’re going to consider it.” Mulder put the car in gear but Somers’ puzzled expression kept him from releasing the brake. “Something else on your mind?”

“Two things actually. First: What language were you two speaking back there?”

“Sixties slang, Junior. Like today’s slang, only groovier. We had better music, too.” Mulder checked for oncoming traffic. “What’s the second thing you wanted to know?”

“Who the hell carries cash any more? Or a wallet for that matter? You never heard of Venmo, Pops?

“Pops? Pops! It’s Grandpop to you, kid. Get off my lawn!” Mulder slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the engine roared, and the car sped from the curb in a squeal of smoking tires.

MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE
10:09 AM

“Are you ready to meet the new neighbors?” Scully asked Katie as she slipped a container of cookies into a tote.

“Yes!” Katie hugged her doll Lisa to her chest and jumped excitedly around the kitchen. She paused to ask, “Can I carry the cookies?”

“Sure.” Scully passed her the tote, then herded her out the front door.

Katie led the way across the yard with exuberant determination, the tote gripped in one fist, Lisa in the other. She slipped easily beneath the trees at the property line, while Scully had to duck to avoid hitting her head on the low overhanging boughs. They stepped through a fallen section of fence onto the neighbor’s broad, shaggy lawn.

The neighbor’s house was in considerable disrepair, its clapboards in need of paint. Mildew darkened the porch railing and steps. The ramshackle appearance was reminiscent of Mulder and Scully’s place when they first moved in. Like theirs, this house was a two-story bungalow built in the 30s or 40s, having what realtors euphemistically called character. That said, the original stained glass in the neighbor’s front door was cracked and nearly all of the windows were missing their shutters. At least a third of the roof shingles needed replacing. Scully hoped the new owners had money to spare or were handy with tools.

She rang the doorbell and put on a friendly smile.

Twin girls answered the door, their expressions solemn and their appearance somewhat startling. Scully tried to mask her surprise and was glad to see that Katie reacted only with obvious pleasure at seeing two kids now living next door. Their long snowy hair, nearly translucent skin, and pink eyes seemed to go unnoticed by her ingenuous little girl.

“Hello?” A harried young woman arrived at the door behind the girls. She looked to be in her early thirties with coal black hair and eyes of burnished copper. Like Scully, she was dressed in t-shirt and shorts. Her hands settled protectively on the twins’ shoulders.

“Hi, I’m Dana, your neighbor. This is my daughter Katie.”

“Hi!” Katie bounced on her toes and held up the tote. “We brought cookies!”

“Oh!” The woman smiled, which transformed her beleaguered appearance. She was really quite lovely, Scully thought. Almost stunningly so. The woman accepted the tote from Katie. “What do we say, girls?” she prompted the twins.

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

“My name is Jenna. Jenna Weber.” The woman reached out to shake Scully’s hand. She had a warm, friendly grip. “And these are my daughters Isla and Luna.”

“Hi,” they said.

“How old are you?” Katie asked the girls. “I’m five.”

“We’re six,” they both replied.

“Would you like to come in?” Jenna asked, stepping back.

“Yes!” Katie said before Scully could reply.

“Thank you.” Scully steered Katie into a front hall full of boxes and furnishings that clearly belonged elsewhere in the house.

“Excuse the mess. Just moving in, obviously.” Jenna led them into a large eat-in kitchen, where more boxes cluttered the counters and floor. The air smelled strongly of pine-scented cleanser overlaying a whiff of wood rot. “It’s going to take me a while to get everything cleaned up and put away. Coffee?”

“Don’t go to any--”

“It’s already made.”

“In that case, yes, thank you.”

“Girls, take a seat at the table, please,” Jenna said. “I’ll pour you some milk to go with these cookies.”

The girls settled themselves into mismatched chairs at one end of a chipped but serviceable wooden table. Jenna set out colorful plastic cups and plates, circa 1970. She tore paper towels from a roll beside the sink. “Sorry, no napkins,” she apologized as she folded each in half and doled them out to the girls.

Scully surveyed the room. She wasn't trying to be nosey. It was more of a learned habit from her years of analyzing crime scenes and appraising suspects, always making sure she was aware of her surroundings. Then again, she was curious about her new neighbors. The house had stood derelict and empty all the years she and Mulder lived next door. Like their own home when they bought it, this one appeared to have little to offer beyond privacy. She couldn’t help but wonder what had attracted this young family to a place this isolated and could at best be described as a handyman’s special.

The kitchen cupboards looked original to the house. Several had loose or missing hardware. The appliances hadn’t been updated in decades. The wooden floor was scratched and worn and the walls needed paint. But every surface was wiped down and clean. Not a speck of dust coated the sills, no fingerprints marked the woodwork, not a single cobweb draped any of the room’s upper corners.

A top-of-the-line computer station graced the far end of the table, at odds with the room’s secondhand furnishings and vintage decor. It was an elaborate setup with two large-screen monitors. Jenna caught Scully looking at it.

“I’m a freelance web designer,” Jenna explained as she filled the girls’ cups with milk. “Working from home allows me more time with my girls. That’s important to me as a single mom.” She dug a coffee mug from an unpacked box and rinsed it under the tap. She dried it with another paper towel from the roll. “Cream and sugar, Dana?” she asked, pouring steaming coffee from a carafe into the mug.

“Cream, please. Or milk. Whatever you have.”

“Half and half?”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

Jenna took a pint container from the fridge and passed it along with the coffee to Scully. She then refilled her own mug. “The twins noticed you have a swing,” she said, motioning Scully to sit.

“Yes, Mulder hung it not long ago.”

“Mulder?”

“My husband. Katie’s father.”

“His first name is Fox but he doesn’t like it,” Katie said, her upper lip coated with milk.

“He prefers to go by his surname.” Scully slid into a chair across from Katie, who went back to nibbling the outer edges of her cookie.

“Even with you?” Jenna sat, too.

“We worked together for a long time. Calling each other by our last names became a habit. To us, it seems natural now, though I can see how it might sound strange to others.” Scully watched the twins take dainty bites of their cookies, their movements in sync, their expressions inscrutable. “Your daughters are welcome to use the swing, if they’d like to and it’s alright with you.”

“I was hoping you’d offer.” Jenna smiled. “You or your husband don’t need a website designed by any chance, do you?”

“No. Sorry. I’m a stay-at-home mom at the moment, although I am thinking of going back to work when Katie starts school next month.”

“Mommy was a doctor before I was born,” Katie announced. “She plays doctor with Daddy sometimes.”

Scully felt her face flush. “It’s not like it sounds,” she explained to Jenna, who appeared more amused than shocked. “Last year, Mulder sliced open his finger while pitting an avocado. Long story short, he needed stitches so we made it into something of a game, not wanting to scare Katie.”

“I wasn’t scared, Mommy.”

Scully was glad Katie’s recollection wasn’t close to the truth. Startled by the sight of blood spurting from the gash on Mulder’s left thumb, Katie had screamed hysterically. He sat at the dining table and applied pressure while Scully raced for the first aid kit. Katie bawled like her heart would break.

“No need for tears, pipsqueak,” Mulder assured her, “Daddy’s fine.”

“Nooo, you’re hurt.” Katie was inconsolable.

“Come’ere.” Mulder pulled her into his lap with his uninjured hand. She clung to his shirtfront and watched teary-eyed as Scully donned nitrile gloves and swabbed Mulder’s wound with disinfectant. When Scully unpacked a sterile suture kit, Katie shrieked at the sight of the needle.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mulder murmured gently into her ear. “Daddy and Mommy are just playing doctor.”

“Mulder…”

He ignored her warning tone and asked Katie, “You want to play, too?”

“No,” she sobbed.

“I’ll be the patient, you can be the nurse, and Mommy will be the doctor. She’s a very good doctor and I trust her not to hurt me.”

“I don’t want to play this game!”

“Okay, how about you hug me instead? Will you do that?”

“Y-yes.” She reached her small arms as far as she could around his broad chest. “I don’t want to watch.”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.” He curved his good hand around her head to block her view.

Katie continued to cry while Scully sutured Mulder’s wound. He rocked her and kissed her, telling her again and again that everything was fine.

After several minutes, he announced, “All done.”

Katie looked up to see Mulder’s thumb wrapped in a clean gauze bandage. “See? Good as new,” he said, flexing his hand. Katie’s relief was so profound, she burst into tears all over again.

“Is your husband a doctor, too?” Jenna asked now, interrupting Scully’s memory.

“No, he works for the FBI.”

“The FBI? That’s…impressive.”

“He’s—”

“Mama, can we show Katie our room?” Isla interrupted, finished with her cookies and milk.

“If it’s okay with Mrs. Mulder.” Jenna turned to Scully, who didn’t bother to explain she’d kept her birth name when she and Mulder married. “The girls love their new bedroom.”

“Please, Mommy, I wanna see.” Crumbs stuck to Katie’s cheeks and chin.

“Use your napkin, please,” Scully reminded her.

Katie scrubbed at her face until it was clean. “Now can I see the bedroom?”

“Yes. But just ten minutes. We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

Katie grabbed her doll and scrambled from her seat to follow the girls. Their eager footfalls thundered up the stairs and all three giggled the entire way.

“It looks like our girls have become fast friends already,” Jenna said, bestowing Scully with another brilliant smile. “Now, tell me honestly, how do you like living in Farrs Corner? Have you been here long?”

*      *      *

“This way.” Isla took the lead. Luna followed close on her heels and Katie brought up the rear.

Katie couldn’t help but admire the girls’ shiny white hair, which hung nearly to their butts and glistened and swayed like silk ribbons as they climbed the stairs. They wore matching outfits: pink sundresses and fabulous shiny sandals. They looked like storybook princesses. Katie liked them already and was glad they’d moved next door. They would become best friends, she was sure.

Her mom’s voice faded into the distance when the girls made a turn at the upper landing. Partway down a short hall, Isla opened a door and ushered Katie inside.

“Wow!” Katie’s eyes rounded at the sight of the girls’ twin canopy beds topped with ruffled comforters and piles of pillows. An astonishing three-story dollhouse gleamed like a treasure in the room’s far corner. Its many rooms were lit by real electric lights, casting a warm glow on miniature furniture, tiny household items, and pretty wallpapers and rugs. Next to the dollhouse, a large bookcase was chockablock full of Barbies. They were dressed in holiday gowns, beachwear, uniforms, and office clothing. “You have a lot of dolls!”

“Two of each,” Luna pointed out, fingering the brightly patterned skirts of identical Día De Muertos Barbies. “Do you have Barbies?”

“No, but I have action figures and LEGO people. And Lisa.” Katie held up her doll for the girls to see. “Daddy says Lisa is a family hair-loom. She was his great-grandma’s doll when she was my age.”

The twins nodded, but looked unimpressed.

Isla went to the nearest of two bedroom windows and peered out across the yard to Katie’s house next door. “Does your daddy live with you and your mom?”

“Yes, of course.” Katie’s smile faded a little when she noticed the girls’ expressions had turned serious, almost sad. “Doesn’t your daddy live with you?”

“No,” the twins answered in tandem.

Katie knew some moms and dads got divorced. Like the parents of Charlotte, a girl she saw each week at the library who spent weekdays with her mom and weekends with her dad. Charlotte said she didn’t really mind because she had two nice bedrooms and her dad had a swimming pool in his backyard. She seemed happy but the idea of Mommy and Daddy not living together in the same house made Katie’s chest ache.

A terrible thought occurred to her. Maybe the twins’ father was dead. Talking about it might make them feel bad. The idea of losing Daddy was one of the scariest things Katie could imagine, so she decided not to ask any more questions.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Luna asked.

“I have a brother — his name is Jackson — but I’d like a sister, too.”

“Why didn’t Jackson come with you today to say hi?”

“He’s older, almost a grownup. He doesn’t live with us.” Katie really wanted a sibling close to her own age to play with. Maybe Luna and Isla could be her playmates until Mommy and Daddy had another baby.

Katie hugged Lisa to her chest and crossed the room to take a closer look at the girls’ dollhouse. The bottom level had an eat-in kitchen and living room, decorated with curtains on the windows, a clock on the wall, and a ceramic cat curled up on a rug in front of a fireplace. A bedroom on the second floor had a canopy bed similar to the twins’ and connected to a bathroom with tub, sink, and toilet. Everything was tiny but perfect. “It’s so pretty.”

“It is,” Isla agreed, joining her to admire the house. “I like the copper pots on the stove.”

“I like the attic.” Luna giggled. Isla giggled, too.

Katie lifted her gaze to the uppermost level of the dollhouse. The small space beneath the slanted roof was cluttered with tiny boxes tied up in ribbons, little storage trunks, miniature sets of luggage. Tucked into the back of one corner was the head of a Ken doll. Just the head, staring back at Katie with unblinking eyes. Above it, stuck to the ceiling, was what appeared to be a cotton ball.

Katie pointed to the cotton. “What’s that?”

“An egg sac, of course,” Isla said.

“What’s an egg-sack?”

“It’s where babies come from. You do know where babies come from, don’t you?”

“Yes, their mommy’s tummy,” Katie said with confidence.

“Who told you that?” Isla asked.

“Mommy.”

“Well, it’s not the truth.”

“Mommy wouldn’t lie.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re not old enough to know the true facts of life.”

Katie considered this. Could there be more to it than Mommy said? “What are the true facts?”

“Do you know the Itsy Bitsy Spider song?” Luna asked.

“Uh huh.” Katie nodded. She tucked Lisa beneath one arm and positioned her hands for the rhyme. “The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout,” she sang. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain. And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.” She smiled proudly when she finished.

“Do you know the second verse?” Isla asked.

“No. What is it?”

The twins sang the words together. “The itsy mommy spider took a mate to bed. After he loved her, she chewed off his head. She laid two hundred spider eggs, of that there is no doubt. Soon mommy’s little spiderlings were running all about.” The twins made crawling motions with their fingers.

“See?” Luna said. “Now you know the truth.”

Were the twins saying that people laid eggs like spiders did? If that were the case, why didn't Katie have hundreds of sisters and brothers? Why didn’t everyone? And what did the twins mean when they said the mommy took a mate to bed and chewed off his head? For that matter, what exactly was a ‘mate’?

Despite her confusion, Katie hesitated to ask more. She didn’t want to appear immature.

Two houseflies buzzed against the inside of one of the bedroom windows, drawing the twins’ attention away from Katie, the dollhouse, and any more pronouncements about spider babies. Katie didn’t really like bugs. She wasn’t afraid of them, she just didn’t like them. So it took her by surprise when Luna walked right up to the window and snatched one of the flies off the glass. She smiled at Katie, then popped the fly into her mouth, chewed it, and swallowed.

“You ate it?” Katie asked, shocked.

Luna nodded, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue to show Katie the bug was gone. She’d eaten it! She’d really eaten it!

“Would you like the other one, Katie?” Luna asked, eyeing the second fly as it inched its way up the glass.

“Um…no, thank you.”

“I’ll catch it for you, if you want. I’m good at it. Quicker than Isla.”

“I’m quick,” Isla argued.

Katie didn’t want to be rude but she really didn’t want to eat a bug either. She was rescued from doing either when her mom called to her from the bottom of the stairs. “Katie? Time’s up.”

“Sorry, gotta go.” Katie offered the twins an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Maybe we can play again sometime?”

“We’d like that.”

“Me, too,” Katie said and meant it. Having friends next door was going to be fun, she was certain. As long as she didn’t have to eat a bug.

MULDER RESIDENCE
LATER THAT EVENING
7:50 PM

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Mulder said softly, pausing at the threshold of Katie’s room.

“Daddy?” Katie sounded drowsy but pleased to see him. Scully had put her to bed twenty minutes earlier, but Katie often fought sleep, hoping to be awake when Mulder got home from work and kissed her goodnight.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, kissed her cheek, and palmed her soft, dark hair. She smelled of shampoo and soap from her bath earlier. Her doll was tucked in the crook of her right arm. 

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Good.” Katie released her hold on Lisa to search out his hand in the growing dusk. The setting sun painted the windowpanes silver. A NASA rocket-shaped lamp glowed dimly on the bureau in the room’s far corner, casting muted streaks of color on the walls and ceiling. “How was yours, Daddy?”

“Fine, though it’s just now gotten a lot nicer.” He squeezed her fingers.

She responded with a sleepy smile. Her eyelids drooped. She was fading fast.

The room was overly warm, despite the ceiling fan and open windows. Katie wore a sleeveless cotton nightgown. She was covered only with a sheet. Her blanket remained folded across the foot of the bed. Not much chance she would need it tonight. For the past several weeks, Mulder and Scully had been discussing the logistics of adding central air or heat pumps to their old house to replace the ancient window AC units. Katie preferred an open window over the noisy clunker in her room, so he’d removed that one several weeks ago.    

“You too warm?” he asked her. “I can fold down the sheet if it’s too much.”

“No. Lisa and me like to be covered.”

“Okay.” He rose and kissed her forehead, in part to test the temperature of her skin. She felt cool against his lips. “You’ve always liked being snug as a bug.” He gave her cheek a gentle pinch. 

She yawned. “Uh huh.”

As he was about to leave the room, she asked, “Daddy?”

“What, hon?” He turned at the door to face her, his hand on the knob.

“Luna ate a bug today.”

“Luna?”

“One of the girls next door. Luna and Isla. They’re twins.”

“And one of them ate a bug? You sure about that?”

“I’m sure. They wanted me to eat one, too, but don’t worry, I wasn’t rude. I said no thank you.”

Mulder tried to picture it. Maybe the kids were just showing off, goofing with her, and she didn’t really see what she thought she saw. “What did they say to that?”

Katie shrugged. “They didn’t mind.”

“That’s…good.” He’d have to ask Scully about these new neighbors. “Your mother pretended to eat a bug once.”

“She did?”

“A cricket.”

“Why?”

“I think she was trying to impress me.”

Katie chewed her lower lip and considered this. “Did she? Press you?”

“Everything your mother does impresses me,” he said, meaning it. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

*      *      *

Mulder joined Scully in the kitchen, where she’d nearly finished emptying the dishwasher. 

“Katie asleep?” She sorted forks, knives, and spoons into their appropriate slots in the silverware drawer.

“Almost.” He embraced her from behind and buried his nose into her neck. “You smell nice.” Which reminded him… “Do I smell okay? I played an unexpected game of hide and seek in the Baltimore sewer this morning.”

“You and Agent Somers have all the fun.” She turned in the circle of his arms to smile up at him. Drawing his head down to her nose, she inhaled deeply. “You’re fine. You smell like fresh air, actually.”

She then pressed a passionate kiss to his lips as if to prove he’d brought home no malodorous stench.

“Mm, I like that,” he murmured when she ended the kiss. He snugged his arms more tightly around her and swayed a little as if they were dancing. She leaned comfortably into him. “I heard you met the new neighbors.” His lips brushed the crown of her head as he spoke. He stroked the small of her back.

“Mm hm.” She felt boneless in his arms.

“What are they like?”

“Friendly. Jenna’s a single mom. Young. Pretty,” she said into his neck. “She has two daughters, twins, age six. Katie seemed to enjoy the girls.”

“Did Katie tell you one of them ate a bug?”

Scully drew back to look at him. “A bug?”

“That’s what she said.”

“What else did she say?”

“Not much. It didn’t seem to bother her.” He shrugged it off. Over the past five years, he’d honed his paternal instincts to protect Katie from harm, any harm, small or large. At the same time, he understood that being overly protective wasn’t going to help her in the long run. He needed to assess each possible threat and temper his reaction accordingly. “Maybe it was just kids being kids. My friend Jimmy ate an earthworm once when we were seven.” Jimmy was a bit of a showoff. Shocking his buddies was apparently more fun than fishing in Menemsha Pond. “And you pretended to eat a cricket.”

“For a moment, you thought I’d actually done it.” She reached up and tickled his ear, on the very spot where her concealed cricket supposedly materialized. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“What look? I knew it was a trick the entire time.”

She smiled defiantly up at him. “You knew no such thing. Admit it, I had you fooled.”

“Never.” He chuckled, though she had.

He loved this playful side of her. Her silly amateur magic trick side. He kept his arms slung loosely around her waist. “What else did you and this Jenny woman talk about?”

“Jenna,” she corrected him. “Farrs Corner. The kids. Jenna works at home as a web designer.”

“You check her out online?”

“What, to see if she’s telling the truth about her job?”

“Or anything else.”

“No, I didn’t.” She toyed with his necktie. “Jenna seems like a perfectly normal person, Mulder.”

“I just thought you’d be more curious.”

“I’m plenty curious, but I’ll ask her outright if I want to know something. Not everyone’s hiding secrets.”

“They are in my line of work.”

“The neighbors aren’t an X-File.” She squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. “Anyway, Jenna and I traded phone numbers. We also talked about the school Katie’s going to be attending as Jenna’s eager to enroll the twins in first grade. Get their lives back into a normal routine. She alluded to some trouble at their old school.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“She didn’t say, but my guess is the girls were bullied.”

“Bullied? Why?”

“Probably because of their albinism.”

“The girls are twins and albinos? That’s…unusual. Isn't it?”

“Yes, though albinism affects one in 17,000 people worldwide, so it’s not unheard of. Still, I imagine Isla and Luna get a lot of unwanted attention.”

“Hm.” The only people Mulder had ever seen with a depigmentation condition were the victims of Samuel Aboah, the man/mutant who removed and ate their pituitary glands, turning their dark skin to white.

The mention of twin albinos reminded him of the Vietnam vet’s words from earlier today: She had two dwarf ghosts in tow.

Could there be a connection? Was it possible the new neighbor was an X-File? As unlikely as it seemed, coincidences never sat well with Mulder. And yet, how could this Jenna person be linked to the recent murders? Mulder’s hunches proved to be true more often than not, but even so, he decided to put this idea aside. For now.

“You owe me an apology,” Scully said, interrupting his thoughts. She trailed her fingers across his chest.

“I do?”

“For the bite.” She pointed to her breast.

“I said I was sorry for that and I am. Truly.”

“Yes, but it might feel more heartfelt if you were to, for instance, get down on your knees and ask for forgiveness.”

“You want me to beg?” He grinned. Licked his lips. Nodded. “I can do that.”

He sank to his knees….

*      *      *

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jenna Weber stood quietly on her neighbor’s porch and gazed through the window at the two lovers. The gentle but insistent way the man unfastened Dana’s shorts, drew them down, and pressed his tongue to her panties sent a shiver through her despite the evening heat.

Staring at them from the shadows, Jenna felt like a voyeur. Guilt heated her face. Her intention had been to simply drop off the empty cookie container and leave. Yet she couldn’t pull her eyes away. Desire and envy ballooned in her chest. It had been years since she last experienced devotion or passion like she was witnessing in the couple beyond the glass. Not since the twins’ father passed away. She suddenly missed him with an overwhelming intensity. Missed the loving connection they’d shared before—

She forced those memories from her mind, focusing instead on the couple in the kitchen.

As she continued to watch them, her lips parted. An ancient instinct took hold of her. Her jaw dropped open. She yawned. Wide. Wider still. Then two articulated fangs slowly unfolded from her gaping mouth. They dripped with the venom that surged up from the bulging glands in her neck. She licked the bitter liquid away before retracting the chelicerae and closing her mouth.

Could this man be the one, she wondered, watching him lavish his partner with loving attention. A new mate to father sisters for Luna and Isla?

EAST EMERSON AVENUE
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND
12:52 AM

A rat scuttled across the avenue, nearly invisible in the dark. It went unnoticed by Jenna, who was hoisting a garbage bag containing the old man’s head and clothes into the trunk of her Honda, while the twins buckled themselves into their car seats.

“Did you both get enough to eat?” Jenna asked when she slid behind the steering wheel. The man had been skinny, not much to him, a snack more than a meal, especially when divided up between two hungry, growing girls.

“Yes, Mama,” Isla and Luna chimed in unison from the back seat.

Jenna sighed with relief. The meal may have been light, but no one could accuse her of being a neglectful mother. She was teaching her girls everything they needed to know to survive on their own. Tonight’s lesson went pretty well, overall, she thought as she buckled her seatbelt. The girls learned how to wrap the body in silk. They were a little clumsy at first, given their lack of experience, but that was to be expected and in the end, they succeeded in getting silk to jet from their tarsi. Proficiency would come with time and practice. A child learned to crawl before it could walk.

To be fair, this was the girls’ first real attempt. The prey in the warehouse and in the sewer hardly counted since Jenna had prepared the bodies in advance, bringing the girls to them only after they were dead, wrapped, and their innards fully liquified.

Having done so well tonight, however, Jenna wanted the girls to try using their chelicerae for more than beheading their prey and eating the innards next time. They needed to control the flow of poison from their fangs in order to kill. Both girls, especially Isla, were still having trouble engaging and disengaging their chels. But that was to be expected at their age. Like potty training, it couldn’t be rushed. Physically, they still weren’t mature enough to regulate the necessary glands and muscles.

That aside, the girls were growing up fast and would be leaving the nest before long. While the idea saddened Jenna, she was also feeling the urge to procreate again. Nature set its own timetable.

Jenna’s thoughts returned to the man next door. Fox Mulder. She’d have to come up with an excuse to meet him to evaluate his suitability as a possible mate. Nervous energy caused her to shiver at the prospect. Selecting the right partner was vitally important. There was no room for error. Her future progeny depended upon her making the best choice possible.

“It’s mine!” Luna shouted at Isla, drawing Jenna’s attention to the back seat.

She turned to find them fighting over the pink pin from the dead man’s hat.

“Please, share, girls,” she warned. “Take turns.”

“Me first!” Isla claimed.

“No, me!” Luna yelled back at her.

“If you don’t play nicely together, I’ll take the pin away.” Jenna gave them a stern look. “Luna, let Isla play with it for now.” When Luna pouted, Jenna promised, “When we get home, it’ll be your turn.”

Luna crossed her arms, but didn’t argue. Jenna knew she shouldn’t have let them keep that damn thing. But in a weak moment, after they’d argued over the man’s hat, she let Isla wear the hat while Luna took possession of the pin. Isla then pranced up and down the sidewalk with the hat on her head, showing off, which apparently angered Luna, who grabbed it and tossed it down a sewer grate. Out of reach. Trying to remain calm, Jenna warned them about the consequences of leaving things behind. Chagrinned, they apologized and stopped their bickering.

Jenna stuck the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. The engine sputtered and died. Damn it! This old clunker had been nothing but trouble lately. She twisted the key again. The ignition clicked but the engine refused to turn over. Panic thudded in her chest. She had to get them away from here. She took a deep breath and tried again.

This time, the engine rattled but stayed on. A wave of relief rolled through her. She quickly put the car in drive and steered away from the curb.

“Hey, girls, how about singing a song?”

In unison, Isla and Luna began to sing, their voices high-pitched and cheerful as Jenna drove them home. “The itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout….”

While the twins sang, Jenna pondered how to arrange a face-to-face meeting with her neighbor Fox Mulder. Just the two of them. Alone.

MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE
7:17 AM

Mulder swallowed the last of his coffee and placed his empty mug in the sink. He pocketed his car fob, about to head to the office, when the house phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Scully offered from where she sat in the dining room eating breakfast with Katie.

Although running a few minutes late, Mulder paused to see who would be calling so early.

“It’s for you,” Scully said, holding out the handset.

“Me?” On the landline?

Scully covered the mouthpiece and lowered her voice. “It’s Jenna from next door. Her car won’t start and she’s hoping you can give her a jump. She’s got an eight o’clock appointment at the elementary school to get her girls enrolled. She wants to take them school shopping afterward.”

He checked his watch, then whispered back to her, “You know your way around a car battery. What’s wrong with your jumper cables?”

“Nothing, but if you do it, you’ll get to meet her, be your usual charming self, and ask her a bunch of nosey questions. You know you want to.”

Admittedly, he was curious about this new neighbor and coming to her aid would give him a legitimate excuse to find out more about her. “Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Scully nodded and turned her attention back to Jenna.

“Daddy, can I come with you?” Katie asked as she carried her spoon and empty cereal bowl to the kitchen.

He took them from her and set them in the sink next to his mug. “Not this time, pipsqueak. I’m on my way to work, so it’s going be a very short visit.”

Now off the phone, Scully joined them in the kitchen. “Daddy’s going to rescue a damsel in distress.”

Mulder replied with, “Mommy likes to exaggerate.”

“You’re going to be a hero, Daddy?” Katie beamed with obvious admiration, which swelled Mulder’s heart, not to mention his ego. Admittedly, he relished the idea of his baby girl thinking he was brave and indomitable, almost superhuman. But fantasy hit reality when she then asked, “Like Wonder Woman?”

“Not quite like Wonder Woman, no.” He chuckled and cupped her cheek. “Be a good girl today.”

“I’m always good, Daddy.”

“Yes, you are.” He gave her a kiss goodbye, kissed Scully, too, and headed out the door to his car.

Stepping out into the sunshine and stifling humidity was like walking into a steamy sauna. Cicadas whined in the treetops, a harbinger of unbearable temperatures later in the day. Mulder immediately shucked his suit jacket and tossed it into the passenger seat. Behind the wheel, he started the engine and turned on the AC full blast. Then lowered the volume of his playlist until “Into the Void” no longer blared from the dash speakers at an ear-splitting level. Had he really been listening to it as loud as that when he drove home last night? He put the car in gear and headed next door.

Jenna Weber was waiting for him on her small front porch, dressed for her morning meeting in a billowy skirt and pale sleeveless blouse. She flashed him a hesitant smile before hurrying down the steps.

She waited beside her Honda wringing her hands while he maneuvered his own car into position, his front bumper facing hers. Cars aligned, he killed the engine and popped both his hood and trunk. He rolled up his shirtsleeves before exiting the car.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Mulder,” she said, stepping closer and offering her hand.

He gave it a quick shake.

She was a petite woman, no bigger than Scully, but unlike Scully, there was something vulnerable about her demeanor. As if she needed rescuing from a situation far more serious than a car with a dead battery. It brought out a protective instinct in him, similar to how he’d felt with Lucy Householder years ago. Or how he felt with Katie every day.

“I really appreciate you helping me out.” Jenna gazed up at him with an almost frantic expression. “I called Triple A, but they couldn’t get out here until later this morning. You’ve saved me from rescheduling my meeting. I’m Jenna, by the way. Jenna Weber.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Fox Mulder, but please call me Mulder.”

“Your wife mentioned you went by your last name. Mulder it is then. You’re obviously on your way to work.” She indicated his tie and dress slacks with a rueful nod. “I hope this won’t make you late.”

“It’ll be fine. Let me get my cables.”

She followed him to the back of his car. “I’m eager to enroll my girls in school. Get them back into a routine. Moving can be hard on kids. Disrupts everything. This is our third move in six months. But at least the girls have each other. Luna and Isla are inseparable, two peas in a pod. Oh, but they really enjoyed meeting your daughter yesterday. Katie is such a sweet girl.”

“Thank you, I think so.”

The idea of moving multiple times in such a short period of time filled him with sympathy, reminding him of the years he and Scully had spent in hiding and on the run. He wanted to ask Jenna more about it, but she was already on to another subject.

“The girls appreciated the cookies Katie and your wife brought over. That was very nice of them, a truly thoughtful gesture. Made us feel quite welcome. I’ll return the container later today. Or I could just give it to you when we’re finished here? Sorry, that’s a bad idea, you’re on your way to work. I doubt you’d want to carry that around all day. Am I talking too much? It’s a terrible habit. I work from home so don’t often get to talk with other adults.”

“No need to apologize.”

Frenetic and fidgety, Jenna was clearly on edge. No surprise, he supposed, given her current circumstances. Moving to a new home, two children to care for, car won’t start, hottest fucking day of the year. He’d be tense in her situation, too.

“Where are your daughters this morning?” he asked, hoping to meet them, gain additional insight into these new neighbors. He grabbed the cables from his trunk.

Her eyes never left him, even when she hooked a thumb at the house. “Upstairs, getting dressed.”

He peered up at the second-story window. Two ephemeral faces with serious expressions stared back at him. He was reminded again of the Vietnam vet’s “dwarf ghosts” comment. The thought made him feel uncharitable and a little ashamed. The girls couldn’t help their appearance. He gave them a friendly wave. They didn’t return the gesture or his smile.

“Go ahead and pop your hood,” he told Jenna. He uncoiled the cables as he walked to the front of their cars.

“Will do.” She got into her car and, leaving the door ajar, fumbled for the release. The hood unlocked with an audible click. “All set,” she called out.

Glancing again at the girls’ bedroom window, Mulder saw that the children had disappeared. He lifted Jenna’s hood and secured it with the prop rod.

“Your battery terminals look fine. No corrosion.”

“That’s good, right?” she asked through the open door.

“Yes.” He connected one red clip to her battery’s positive terminal and the other to his own battery. He then fastened the black clips in reverse order. After restarting his engine, he returned to stand at the front of Jenna’s Honda.

“Try turning it over,” he said, “but don’t give it too much gas.”

She did as instructed and the engine chugged to life. “Yes!” She grinned at him and he was struck by how her smile transformed her. She was really quite attractive.

“Let it run for a few minutes,” he said.

She exited her car and came to stand beside him. They watched the purring motor vibrate steadily inside the engine compartment. He figured this was the perfect time to dig a little deeper into her background.

“Three moves in just a few months; that’s a lot,” he said casually, hoping to come across as curious more than intrusive. Or “nosy,” as Scully put it. “Why so many, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, a variety of reasons. All of which I’m happy to put in the past,” Jenna said, with a dismissive wave of her hand, her response more ambiguous than he’d hoped. “Things will be better for us here in Farrs Corner, I’m sure.”

“It’s pretty out-of-the-way here, far from everything.”

“True.” She looked briefly at the house and chuckled. “But I guess that’s what made it affordable. Being a web designer isn’t as lucrative as you might think.”

Her previous nervousness had completely disappeared. Must be the relief of having her car running again, he thought.

Or maybe there was something more to it….

He couldn’t help but notice she was now brazenly raking him from his wingtips to the beads of sweat at his hairline. Angled toward him, she raised her eyebrows, licked her lips, and tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear…exactly the way Dr. Alling had done when flirting with Somers in the morgue two days ago. Jenna stood so close, Mulder could smell the scent of her perfume. A sweet aroma of vanilla mixed with something tart…citrus or…vinegar? No, that couldn’t be. Whatever, it was strangely tantalizing. Tempting—

She leaned closer, her expression playful and coy. “I really don’t know what I would’ve done this morning if you hadn’t come to my aid.” Her voice was breathy and pitched a half-octave lower than before. Her elbow, warm and smooth, brushed his bare forearm, making the fine hairs there stand on end.

It was no accident, he was certain. She was clearly flirting with him.

Equally alarming, the unwelcome attention was turning him into a blushing, tongue-tied imbecile, toeing the ground while avoiding eye contact.

Much the way he’d done when Sheila Fontaine had batted her eyelashes and asked him to dance with her at her Kroner high school reunion…just hours after she’d held him in a lip-lock that left him flushed, smeared in lipstick, and panicky. Holman and Scully had a look of horror on their faces that reflected his own mortification.

That familiar feeling of dismay rose up in him now. To think he’d actually been a little envious of Somers when Alling came onto him in the morgue. Now, he just wanted to escape. As quickly as possible.

But Jenna curled her fingers around his wrist and his train of thought completely stalled. It took all his effort to drag his gaze up to meet hers. She blinked at him, her pupils blown wide, the irises swirling with shades of copper and bronze, a fiery iridescence pocked with the glitter of gemstones. The intensity of her stare was both startling and hypnotic.

“I, uh, really should be going,” he managed to say.

“Alright.” She continued to grasp his arm. Her fingers felt silky and cool against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, causing a rash of gooseflesh to pebble his shoulders, neck, and scalp, despite the morning’s oppressive heat and the sweat that rolled down the center of his back.

He cleared his throat. Tried to withdraw from her, but felt locked in place.

“Mama!” One of the girls shouted from the open upstairs window. “Are we going soon?”

“Yes,” Jenna called to her. “In a minute. I’m just thanking Mr. Mulder for his help.”

She released her hold on Mulder and broke the spell, if that’s what it was. Freed, he hurried to unhook the jumper cables.

“You, uh…you should be all set,” he stammered. He slammed the hood of his car shut and returned the cables to his trunk.

“I’m grateful for your kindness.” Once again she was at his side. Too close. “I hope to return the favor. Soon.”

“No need.” He closed the trunk and beelined for the driver's seat.

As soon as he was strapped behind the wheel, he shifted into reverse, made a quick one-eighty, and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” he muttered to himself as he raced along Wallace Road toward DC at 80 miles an hour.

HOOVER BUILDING

“Don’t ask,” Mulder growled when he entered the office nearly an hour late. 

Somers nodded without looking up from his keyboard.

Mulder hung his suit jacket on the coatrack before settling behind his desk. He powered up his computer. “Any word from the M.E. about our sewer-dwelling corpse?”

“Not yet.” Somers paused only briefly between keystrokes.

Mulder logged onto the network and pulled up the various reports on the first victim. “Did you find out any more about the digestive enzymes in that tarry substance we found on the floor beneath the first victim like I asked you to?”

“Yep. Those particular enzymes are common to centipedes, millipedes, mites, ticks, scorpions, slaters, prawns, crabs, and spiders,” Somers listed off the possibilities. “And when do I ever not do as you ask?”

“Hm, spiders,” Mulder murmured, ignoring Somers’ question. Alling had said the toxicology results showed a trace of α-latrotoxin, a neurotoxin found in spider venom. Mulder quickly double-checked Alling’s notes. “Do me a favor, Junior. Look through our past X-File cases for any that might relate to spiders.”

“What years?”

“All of them?”

“All…? Great.”

“Consider yourself lucky they’re online now, tagged and searchable. Back in the day, Scully and I had to manually sift through actual filing cabinets to find anything.”

“Primitive times.”

“You have no idea. Dial-up internet. Cellphones the size of bricks.”

“Hard-wired into your horse-and-buggies, I assume.”

“Ha ha.” Mulder initiated a search for general information about spiders. 

Dozens of images of the hairy-legged arachnids filled his screen. Unlike Bambi Berenbaum, Mulder did not find everything about bugs fascinating. To him, they were not “truly remarkable creatures, beautiful and so honest,” as she’d said. 

Pushing aside his revulsion, he scrolled through the search results. Apparently 30 species of spiders were common in Maryland. Of those, only one was dangerous to humans: Black Widows. He clicked on a link to learn more.

Female Latrodectus, or Black Widows, are shiny black with a red hourglass pattern on the abdomen. Their bite initially feels like a pinprick, but a chemical in the venom — alpha-latrotoxin — can overwhelm nerve cells and cause severe pain. The affected area will generally begin to cramp and other symptoms such as sweating, nausea, and vomiting may occur. Healthy people who are bitten usually recover in two to five days with proper care.

Unpleasant but seldom deadly. 

Unless the spider had somehow mutated into something else. 

He could hear Scully’s mocking tone in his head: “Like Peter Parker in Spider-Man?” 

Reality and the Marvel Universe may not be so different, Scully. 

He read on.

Black Widows have comb-like bristles on their hind tarsi. They use these to fling silk strands over any captive that gets caught in their web. The swathed victim is hauled to a rest site, injected with digestive enzymes via the chelicerae (retractable poison-filled fangs). These enzymes liquify the victim’s contents, which are eaten later. The prey’s exoskeleton is left behind after the Black Widow finishes her meal.

Now he was getting somewhere. The description was pretty on the nose, a near match to their killer’s MO. 

He read further. Several sources claimed Black Widows weren’t naturally aggressive toward people. However….

Like most spiders, Black Widows use pheromones to attract mates. They’re commonly called Black Widows because after procreation, the female will often cannibalize the male.

“Ouch!” He pictured the headless, genderless, empty shell in the morgue. Pat Benatar was right: love is a battlefield.

Skimming down the page, he came to a snippet of information that set his Spooky Alarm clanging. 

“Somers, listen to this.” Scully would claim he was jumping to conclusions, but Mulder knew in his gut that this tidbit was connected to the case. “Newly hatched Black Widow spiderlings are white,” he read from the site. “They don’t turn black until they get older.”

Somers, distracted by a text on his phone, didn’t respond.

Mulder flung a pen at him to get his attention. It missed, bounced off Somer’s computer screen, and clattered to the floor.

“Your aim’s off,” Somers said without looking up from his text.

“My aim is fine. Just trying to avoid the workplace accident paperwork. Did you hear what I said?” 

“Yes, baby Black Widows are white. So?” A second later, Somers head jerked up, his eyes widening as realization dawned. “The Vietnam vet’s ‘white ghosts.’ You’re thinking the killer is…some sort of mutant spider, who took her kids along to watch?” 

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Mulder was growing to like Somers more every day. The kid had a quick, open mind. Mulder truly did appreciate the way Scully made him work for answers over the years, but at this stage in his career, it felt kinda nice to skip their old perfunctory song and dance, and dive straight into the paranormal. Somers rarely second-guessed or nay-sayed his theories and to be honest, it was refreshing. Not to mention, it saved them a lot of time. 

Another text alert sounded on Somers’ phone. 

Okay, so Mulder’s new partner wasn’t entirely without irritating habits.  

Somers checked his phone. He swallowed audibly, then turned to Mulder with a bewildered expression. “Um, Mulder, have you ever…um….?”

“Ever…?”

“Texted a dick pic.” 

“On purpose? No.” Jesus, kids today. “Why?” 

“Well, this woman friend…she’s, uh, asked me to send her a photo of…of my junk.”

Mulder barked a laugh. “Are you sure ‘she’ is a woman?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well….” Not a good idea, Junior. Don’t do it. Ever. “How well do you know this woman? You been dating long?” 

“We’ve never been on a date. Not yet anyway. It’s….” Somers’ cheeks pinked with obvious embarrassment. “It’s Dr. Alling.” 

Oh. “I suggest you proceed with extreme caution, stud.” 

Mulder had more to say about HR and digital evidence that never, ever truly disappears, but the conversation was cut short when the office phone rang. It turned out to be Detective Reynolds reporting the discovery of a third victim. Same MO.

“Sorry, your dick pic dilemma’s gotta wait, Junior. Let’s go.” Mulder grabbed his jacket from the coatrack and led the way out the door.

MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE

Sitting on her swing with Lisa balanced on her lap, Katie looked wistfully across the yard at the twins’ house. She wished they’d come over. Mommy was busy in the house. Filling out job forms, she’d said. Nothing that Katie could help her with. Katie scuffed her sneakers in the dirt below the swing, stirring up dust. She was hot and bored and Mommy said to stay close to the house and not go to the pond or into the shed or past the gate on her own. 

If only she had a baby sister, there’d be plenty to do. Fun stuff! Why didn’t Mommy and Daddy just get one?

She thought again about what the twins told her, about where babies come from. Egg-sacks? What were egg-sacks? It didn’t make any sense. Then again, growing babies inside Mommy’s tummy didn’t make much sense either. She would ask Daddy about it later. He knew everything and always told her the truth. Like about the Tooth Fairy coming only when she’s sleeping.  

Wiggling her loose tooth with her tongue, she wondered for the umpteenth time if it would come out today. Would it hurt? Or bleed? What did the Tooth Fairy do with all the teeth she collected? Maybe she kept them in a secret cave somewhere. 

Or maybe she had a Hiding Room, like Katie had in her cellar, a room that wasn’t for play but for staying safe when she was in danger. Only once had she been in real danger, after Mommy was kidnapped in the park last year and Katie had to stay at an FBI Safe House, which turned out not to be safe at all, but Daddy rescued her by shooting the Bad Man who wanted to hurt her, shot him in the head right next to her. She would never forget the awful sound of Daddy’s gun, that terrible, loud bang, followed by the man’s hot blood spraying across her face, then Daddy’s strong arms holding her tight while she cried and cried. Daddy made everything better.

It was after that scary ordeal that Daddy hung this swing so Katie wouldn’t have to go back to the park where Mommy got kidnapped. It’s also when he built the Hiding Room in the basement, “just in case,” he said. They sometimes practiced going there. Drills, he called it, which kind of felt like a game, but he said it wasn’t a game, it was serious, and if he or Mommy ever told her to run to the Hiding Room, she was supposed to go fast, fast, fast, and not argue.

She began to pump her legs to get her swing going. Soon, she was rising high into the air, then returning to earth at a speed that made her stomach flipflop, climbing upward again, looking down at the yard from a great height, before the ground came rushing toward her once more, stirring the air, cooling her skin, causing her hair to flail in the breeze. It felt like flying! It felt wonderful!

At the summit of a upward swing, Katie saw Isla and Luna coming toward her from their yard. As before, they were dressed identically, this time in yellow sundresses and purple sneakers. Their long hair was held back with matching sparkly headbands. They waved and called out to her with friendly shouts and big smiles on their faces. She was thrilled to see them and yelled back, “Hello!” They broke into an excited run. 

Katie dragged her feet to slow down, which made the swing yaw. The sudden change in direction and speed caused Lisa to tumbled from her lap. Katie tried to grab her, but missed. She watched in horror as Lisa rolled across the dusty ground, coming to a halt face-down on the dry lawn several feet away.

Katie leapt from the swing just as Isla scooped Lisa up from the dirt.

“Poor dolly,” Isla cooed, brushing dust from Lisa’s dress. She gently picked pine needles and bits of dried leaves from her tangled yarn hair.

“Is she okay?” Katie asked, drawing near, her heart in her throat.

“She’s fine,” Isla said, cradling the doll in her arms. “Can I hold her for a minute?”

“Um, okay, I guess so.” Katie would’ve preferred to hold Lisa herself, to look her all over and make sure she wasn’t damaged in any serious way. But Isla was doting on her, holding her with tenderness and care. 

“Katie, will you push me on the swing?” Luna asked. Without waiting for an answer, she slid onto the seat. “Isla can hold Lisa while we play.”

“Alright.” Katie hesitated only a moment before she positioned herself behind Luna. “You ready?”

“Ready!”

“Okay, here you go!” Katie pressed her palms to Luna’s back and pushed with all her might. She stepped back quickly to open up some space before Luna swung back. When she did, Katie gave her another firm shove.

“Higher!” Luna laughed.

“You sure?”

“Yes! Please!”

This was fun. Katie was glad the twins came over. She gave Luna another hard push.

Just then, Isla cried out. “Oh no!” She sounded frightened. “Luna, help!”

Katie ran out from behind Luna, who was scrambling to a stop. To Katie’s horror, Isla was holding Lisa’s head in one hand and her body in the other! There was something strange sticking out of Isla’s open mouth, two twisted black wire-like things that writhed and thrashed, looking sharp and scary. What appeared to be saliva dripped from their tips, over Isla’s lips and down onto her chin.

Isla looked frightened and Katie felt a scream building in her chest, but before it could come out, Luna grabbed hold of her upper arm, fingernails pressing into her flesh. “It’s okay,” Luna said firmly. “Everything will be okay.”

Katie swallowed her scream. She wanted to believe Luna but tears sprang to her eyes just the same. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Luna released her hold on Katie to go stand next to Isla. When she stroked her sister’s cheek, Katie gasped. The awful wire things were so close to Luna’s fingers! Flailing… leaking…. Katie began to tremble. She wanted to run but she didn’t want to leave Lisa behind. Her doll was torn…or maybe bitten…in two! 

“Isla, put your chels back in your mouth, please,” Luna soothed. “You’re scaring Katie. Show her everything is fine.” 

Isla nodded and appeared to gather her courage. The appendages folded back on themselves before disappearing into her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t hurt Lisa on purpose.”

Luna patted her sister’s shoulder. “Of course, you didn’t. Katie, you believe her, don’t you?”

“What’s in your mouth?” Katie asked, ignoring the question, frightened for her doll, as well as for herself.

“Nothing.” To prove it, Isla opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue. Everything looked as it should. The strange wire things were gone.

“But, those…those…. Luna called them chels?” Katie asked.

“You must’ve imagined that,” Isla said, her face now a mask of calm.

“Yes, you imagined it,” Luna agreed.

Katie knew she hadn’t imagined anything. The wires had been there, clear as day! Isla and Luna were lying, though she couldn’t imagine why. Something was wrong with Isla and now they were trying to cover it up.

Isla looked contrite as she held Lisa’s severed head a few inches above her decapitated torso. “Please, don’t worry, Katie. Mama can fix your doll, make it as good as new, like nothing ever happened.”

“No, I want Mommy to fix Lisa.” Katie reached for her doll. “Mommy’s a doctor. She knows how to make neat stitches that don’t leave scars.”

Isla held the doll out of Katie’s reach and shook her head. “You can’t tell your mother about what happened. You can’t tell anyone. You’ll get us in trouble. I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t stop—” 

“It’s okay, Isla,” Luna interrupted. “Katie knows you didn’t mean to hurt Lisa.” Luna turned to Katie. “You don’t want to get Isla in trouble, do you?”

“No…” Could it have been an accident?

“We wouldn't be allowed to play with you anymore,” Isla said, looking sad.

“You want us to be friends, don’t you, Katie?” Luna asked.

“Yes, but…"”

“Then you can’t say anything…to anyone.” Luna scowled at her.

“Friends don’t tattle on friends.” Isla wagged her head. “You’re not a tattletale, are you?”

“No.”

“Good, because if you tell…,” Luna said, her expression deadly serious, “we'll have to bite off your mother’s head, too, just like Lisa’s.”

Fear ballooned in Katie’s chest and it felt as if a swarm of bees was buzzing in her belly. The twins weren’t like any kids she’d ever met before. They ate bugs. They had strange wires in their mouths. But worst of all, they’d hurt Lisa and were now threatening her mother! 

“You wouldn’t really hurt Mommy. Would you?” Katie asked through a flood of fresh tears.

“Only if you tell on us.” Isla rocked up onto her toes, looking menacing. “Then we won’t have a choice.”

“It’s up to you, Katie. If anything happens to your mother, it’ll be your fault.” Luna said, her expression equally sinister. “Do you understand?”

In that moment, Katie believed the twins were capable of doing exactly what they said. They would kill her mommy if she didn’t keep their secret. 

“Swear you won’t tell, Katie. Swear it and everything will be okay.”

What choice did she have? Katie wiped at her tears. “I-I swear.”

“Swear what exactly? Say the words.”

“I swear I won’t tell.” She sniffled.

Appeased, Luna’s smile reappeared. She slung a friendly arm around Katie and gave her a gentle squeeze. “No need to cry. Only babies cry. Show us you’re not a baby.”

Katie blinked to keep her tears at bay and took a shuddering breath. She wasn’t a baby. Or a tattletale. She was a big girl who could keep a secret. Especially if it would keep Mommy safe. She would protect Mommy. She would be a hero. Like Wonder Woman. Like Daddy.  

“Everything will be okay,” Luna reassured her. “And to prove we’re still friends, I’ve got something for you.” Luna reached into the pocket of her sundress and pulled out a bright pink smilie face button. “It’s a friendship pin. Want it?”

“Mmhm.” Katie gave the slightest of nods.

“Good.” Luna stepped closer and pinned the button to Katie’s t-shirt. She gave it a kindly pat. “Now we’re best friends again. All of us."

Katie skated her fingers across the glossy pin. She had been wanting a best friend for the longest time. Practically forever. And now it looked like she had two. She still wanted to take Lisa home to Mommy, but understood why she couldn’t. The twins’ mother would make Lisa as good as new and everything would be okay again, like they said. At least, she hoped so.

“We’ll take your doll to Mama right now,” Isla said, “and bring her back tomorrow.”

And with that, Luna and Isla skipped off toward their house with poor broken Lisa clutched in Isla’s two tight fists.

EAST EMERSON AVENUE
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

Mulder and Somers met up with Detective Reynolds and several BPD officers at an alley just three blocks from the sewer entrance they’d visited yesterday. This section of of the street was lined with derelict buildings and boarded up shops. Trash littered the cracked sidewalks and clogged the storm drains. Heat rippled above the baked pavement, reflected off the brick buildings, and made the entire area feel like an oven.

“What’ve you got?” Mulder asked Reynolds, trying to ignore the sweat that inched down his spine toward his ass crack. His dress shirt stuck wetly to his back beneath his dark suit coat.

“Other than the body, which is over there,” — Reynolds thrust his chin toward a 10-foot-high chainlink fence blocking the rear of the alley, where a sagging cocoon hung from the upper rail — “not much, though to be fair, my team got here only a few minutes ago.”

Mulder’s attention turned to the fence, where Somers was already busy taking photos with his phone. The cocoon contained a gaping hole at its midpoint, the edges ragged and frayed as if ripped apart with bare hands. “Who called it in?”

“Neighborhood patrolman…after he dispersed a group of lookie-loos. He said the cocoon was torn like that when he got here. Assumed the sightseers got curious.”

“Sightseers? Here?” Mulder swiveled to take in the vacant street and empty buildings.

“Down-and-outs from Journey House. That’s a homeless shelter on Bennett Street, two blocks north.”

“Ah.” Possibly where the Vietnam vet they met yesterday spent his nights or got an occasional free meal.

Mulder excused himself from Reynolds to join Somers beside the body. “Better not get your crime scene photos mixed up with your dick pics, Junior.”

“Funny.” Somers swabbed sweat from his upper lip with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Leave the body for now. Let's inspect the scene before it’s overrun with Reynolds’ forensics team.” Several CSIs were already pulling up to the curb, piling out of their vehicles with bags of equipment slung over their shoulders. A uniformed officer was stringing barrier tape. “I’ll take the right side, you take the left.”

The alley wasn’t especially wide, maybe twenty feet. Dumpsters lined each side. Miscellaneous trash lay in heaps atop the weedy ground between them. Mulder caught sight of a rat disappearing into a crevice between two bulging garbage bags.

He toed one of the bags, shoved a dingy, threadbare blanket out of the way with his foot. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but hoped he’d know it when he saw it. They needed something to identify either the victim or the killer and break this case…before anyone else got drained of their innards and had their head and genitals chewed off. He withdrew a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and put them on. 

The dumpster’s rusty hinges creaked when he lifted the lid. He pushed it up and over with a rattling clank. The stink of rotted food and who-knew-what-else hit him like a slap. He held his breath while he rummaged through the top layer of trash.

As he burrowed deeper, the stench grew godawful, testing the limits of his gag reflex. He upended a box of mildewed donuts, which caused a mass of maggots to rain over his sleeve. Repulsed, he quickly shook them off and decided to leave the dumpster diving to Reynolds’ crew.

He turned to find Somers was not searching the dumpsters on the opposite side as directed. He was texting on his phone. It better be business-related, Mulder thought with a flare of annoyance. To get Somers’ attention, he dug into his pants pocket, pulled out a rubber band, and snapped it in Somers’ direction. It sailed across the alley and over Somers’ right shoulder, just missing the young agent’s ear.

“Hey! Was that…?” Somers squinted at the elastic band where it lay curled limply on the ground. “A rubber band? Who the hell carries rubber bands in their pocket, Mulder? Who even uses rubber bands any more?” Somers picked it up and pointed it at Mulder like an accusing finger. “Old guys, that’s who.” He shoved it into his own pocket. “Stop contaminating the crime scene.”

Mulder chuckled. “I will when you quit dicking around and check the inside of those dumpsters.”

Somers pantomimed a silent guffaw, before doing as he was told. As he was rooting through the garbage, nose wrinkled in disgust, Mulder noticed a scrap of cardboard sticking out from behind a dumpster wedged tight against the fence. He crossed the alley to tug it free from its hiding place.

“Hey, Somers, take a look at this!” Mulder held up the Vietnam vet’s handwritten sign. 

Somers peered at it. Recognition dawned almost immediately. “You don’t think…?” His eyes targeted the cocoon.

“I do.”

“Maybe the vet just threw it there on his way to the shelter.”

“Behind the dumpster?” 

“It could’ve fallen from the pile.” Somers pointed at the overflowing mountains of trash. “Or he could've purposely hidden it there, intending to come back for it.”

“Someone hid it there, I’ll give you that.”

“You seriously think the killer put it there? The same guy who's left absolutely no clues at any of the previous scenes?”

“Maybe this murder was different. Something happened to make the killer careless.”

“Hm, I suppose he could’ve been interrupted.”

“Or he was in a hurry. Or distracted.”

Somers worried the inside of his cheek with his tongue, something he did whenever he mulled over the merits of Mulder’s theories. “Okay, let’s assume you’re right and the victim is the vet. What does that tell us?”

“Maybe the other victims were also homeless. Or veterans. Or—”

“What d’you find?” Detective Reynolds asked, interrupting their conjecture.

“Evidence.” Mulder showed Reynolds the sign before handing it off to one of the CSIs. This was possibly the first real clue they’d found, if it was truly linked to the crime. Mulder’s gut was telling him it was and the body in the cocoon belonged to the war vet. “I want these dumpsters thoroughly checked, Detective Reynolds.”

“Something specific we should be looking for, Agent Mulder?” Reynolds asked.

“Clues, Detective. Specifically, a Vietnam-era wide-brim Boonie hat with a neon pink smiley face pin on the cap.” Mulder peeled off his gloves and stuffed them back into his pocket. “Send the body to—“

“Dr. Alling at Quantico, yes, I know.” Reynolds looked like he wished to be any place but here.  

“Let me know what you find, Detective.”

Without a please, thank you or goodbye, Mulder headed for the car. Somers followed a step or two behind.

“You trying to piss Reynolds off?” Somers asked.

“I prefer to think I’m ‘motivating’ him.”

“Ah, right, because that works so well on me.”

At the car, Mulder stripped off his suit coat and loosened his tie. As he opened his door, he caught sight of Somers launching his rubber band across the car roof at him. His hand went up automatically. Miraculously, he managed to snatch the elastic out of the air before it struck him in the face.

“It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye, kiddo.” Mulder wagged a stern finger at him before pocketing the rubber band. He tossed his jacket into the back seat, then slid behind the wheel. As soon as he started the engine, he checked to make sure the AC was set to its coldest setting. When Somers was settled beside him, he gave the young agent a paternal grin. “Nice shot though.”

“Thanks.” Somers smiled, looking proud. “I have to say, you have dope reflexes for an old dude.”

Mulder laughed out loud. “Don’t ever forget it.”

MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE

Scully was in the small back laundry room folding clothes when she heard footsteps on the front porch. The door creaked open, then quietly clicked close.

“Katie? Is that you?” Katie usually galloped into the house like a herd of wild horses, talking a blue streak as she went. The silence unnerved Scully. She abandoned the towel she was folding to go investigate. “Katie?”

She found Katie slouched in Mulder’s favorite chair, looking small and lost on the leather cushions.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” 

“Uh huh.” Katie didn’t smile or launch into a customary outpouring of what she’d been doing, what new thing she’d discovered in the yard. In fact, her eyes looked red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

Tears filled Katie’s eyes. She scrambled from the chair, ran straight to Scully, and threw herself against Scully’s legs. Her small arms wrapped around Scully’s right thigh and tightened with what seemed all her childish might.

“What is it, Katie?” Scully stroked her soft dark hair, so like Mulder’s. Rubbing circles onto her back, she hoped to coax Katie into talking. “Did something happen?”

Keeping her face hidden, Katie shook her head no.

“Come here.” Scully reached down to pick her up. “Oof! You’re getting to be such a big girl,” she said, lifting her onto one hip.

Katie held fast to Scully, legs wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck, face buried in her hair. “I love you, Mommy,” she murmured hotly into Scully’s ear.

“I love you, too, honey. To the moon and back. Forever and ever.”

Scully’s devotion to this child was unquestionable, unquantifiable, and often beyond her own comprehension. With every beat of her heart, every breath she took, Scully poured her soul into giving her little girl the best life possible, free from harm, free from fear, all the comforts she had wanted for William, but was denied. This small child was her late-in-life blessing, a source of unimaginable joy. She wanted to protect her from all disappointment or despair, sorrow and suffering. Katie, like Mulder, filled Scully’s life with an abundance of love, every single day, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong!” Katie said, loud and adamant.

Scully carried her to the couch. “I’m not sure I believe that,” she said as she sat them both down. 

It was then she noticed the neon pink smilie face button pinned to Katie’s t-shirt.

“Where’d you get this?” she asked, fingering it.

“Luna and Isla,” Katie said with a frown. She covered the button beneath one small hand. “It’s supposed to be a friendship pin.”

Taking in her daughter’s gloomy expression, Scully asked, “That’s a good thing, isn't it?”

Katie shrugged and looked away. “I guess.” She snuggled close to Scully, clinging to her almost desperately.

Something was going on here. Something Katie was clearly reluctant to talk about.

Scully wrapped her arms around the girl. “Where’s Lisa?” she asked.

Katie stiffened within her embrace. “She’s…sleeping.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“She’s tired.”

“Are you feeling tired, too?” Maybe Katie was sick, coming down with something. Scully pressed the back of her hand to her daughter’s plump cheek, brushed her hair away from her forehead to check for fever. Her temperature seemed normal. 

She planted a soft kiss on the top of Katie’s head and stroked her small back, wondering what was bothering her and why she was reluctant to talk about it. It wasn’t like Katie to hold back her feelings. She shared everything, good or bad, with both Scully and Mulder. 

Under Scully’s hypnotic caresses, Katie began to relax in her arms. They sat quietly for several minutes. 

“Mommy?” Katie stirred at last and looked up at her with wide, worried eyes. “Is…is it true what you told me about…about where babies come from? That they come from their mommy’s tummy?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Not from egg-sacks?”

“Egg sacks? Where did you hear that?”

Katie shrugged. “Nowhere.”

“Nowhere?”

“I mean…I don’t remember.”

That was hard to believe. Katie’s memory was almost as uncanny as Mulder’s. Neither of them ever forgot anything. 

Worried that Katie would clam up if pressed, Scully decided to take a different tack. This seemed an opportune time to counteract any misinformation Katie might’ve picked up about the facts of life, and provide her with some accurate, albeit age-appropriate answers instead. In their past discussions, Scully had responded honestly to Katie’s questions, but had also limited the details, keeping her explanations brief and simple, wanting her baby girl to know the truth without being overwhelmed with too much information. Now, however, it seemed Katie was ready for more.

Scully thought back to her own dismal introduction to sex education. When she was six and Melissa was eight, Melissa bragged she knew where babies came from, after hearing what turned out to be a remarkably false narrative from her best friend. Two years later, Melissa, ever the oracle, explained what she’d recently learned about menstruation. Scully recalled being horrified by what Melissa told her. She mistakenly believed she’d bleed nonstop from her first menses until menopause several decades later. She burst into tears and begged God to strike her dead before she had her first period. Her mother came to her rescue, allaying her fears by matter-of-factly explaining the process. Scully vowed then and there that any daughters of hers would be properly informed before experiencing any unnecessary confusion or unease.

“A baby grows in its mother’s uterus,” she explained to Katie now. “That’s a special place inside a woman’s abdomen. It protects and nourishes the baby as it grows.”

“Oh. What does this…the ut’ris look like?” Katie had inherited her father’s seemingly inexhaustible inquisitiveness, a trait Scully found more endearing in their child than she had in Mulder when they first started working together. It had taken her several years to appreciate what an asset his boundless curiosity was.

“Before pregnancy, the uterus is roughly the size and shape of a pear. It stretches as the baby grows.” It seemed impossible that Katie was already old enough to be asking these questions, eager to understand the mechanics of pregnancy. She’d been just a newborn herself such a short time ago.

“Can I see a picture?” Katie asked.

“Sure.”  

Scully dislodged Katie from her lap to reach for her iPad, which sat on the nearby end table. Katie returned to her side as Scully powered up her tablet. A quick search brought up a simplified illustration of a 9-month-old fetus in utero. “See? This is how the baby looks inside its mother shortly before it’s born.”

“Why is the baby upside-down?”

“To make the birth easier.”

“Oh. But…so…how exactly does the baby get out?”

“Through the birth canal.”

Katie looked up at Scully, brows knit in confusion. “Is that like the root canal Daddy had at the dentist?”

“No. It’s a passage. It starts here.” Scully pointed to the vaginal vault in the illustration.

Katie studied the image. “So, there are no eggs?”

“Well, yes. They’re called ova and they’re in the ovaries, here.” Scully indicated the two glands in the illustration.

“Do, um, do the ova look like the eggs in our refrigerator?”

“No, they’re much, much smaller. And they don’t have shells.”

“How small?”

“No bigger than a grain of sand.”

“Wow, that is small!” Katie gaped at Scully in wonder. “How do they get from the ov’ies to the ut’ris?”

“Through the fallopian tubes.” Scully traced the organs on the screen.

“Those look like arms with fingers on the end.”

“They do, don’t they? Those fingers are called fimbria.”

“Fim…bri…a,” Katie repeated. 

Would Katie’s next question be about how, when, and why ova are released? What about fertilization? Was her little girl really ready for that discussion?

In the end, Katie seemed satisfied by everything she’d been told and abruptly changed the subject.

“Can we go swimming in the pond, Mommy? I’m sweaty.” Katie’s demeanor was decidedly more cheerful. Almost like her old self.

“That’s a great idea, sweetheart. Let’s get our suits on.” 

9:15 PM

Stripped down to nothing but his undershorts, Mulder luxuriated in the shadowy comfort of his own air conditioned kitchen. He leaned against the sink and nursed an icy beer while the AC window unit rattled behind him. To say today had been tedious, hot, and frustrating was an understatement of gargantuan proportions.

“All we have is one cardboard sign that I’m certain belonged to a Vietnam vet I saw panhandling yesterday, along with three hollow, headless, and dickless corpses, and my own sneaking suspicion that the killer is some type of spider-monster.”

“You’ve solved cases on less.” Scully said, smiling. She stood across from him, sipping wine and looking delicious in a sleeveless top and shorts. Her feet were bare, her hair pinned up in a messy bun, and her cheeks sun-kissed from her afternoon at the pond. What he would’ve given to be home swimming with her and Katie instead of sweating his balls off looking for non-existent clues. Scully swirled her wine and studied him over the rim of her glass. “Why a spider-monster?”

“Promise you won’t scoff?”

“I would never scoff at your theories, Mulder.”

He gave her a hard stare.

“I might challenge them,” she said. “Ask for proof. But scoff? Not anymore. You earned the benefit of the doubt years ago.”

“Will you please write that down and send a copy to Skinner? I’d like him to put it in my personnel file as insurance against any future dressing-downs — which I know will be coming.”

“A sort of ‘get out of jail free’ card?”

“Something like that, yes.” Beer emptied, Mulder abandoned the bottle next to the sink and crossed the room to stand toe-to-toe with Scully. He ran a finger down her bare arm from shoulder to elbow. “I’d be forever grateful.”

“I like that idea.” She set her wine glass on the sideboard behind her. “A lot.” She slid into his arms.

Just as he leaned down to kiss her, his cellphone rang, the ringtone muffled within the pocket of his suit coat, which lay in a heap on the couch in the living room. “Fuck me,” he groaned against her forehead.

“Maybe later?” she suggested with a sympathetic smile. “Take your call. I’ll clean up in here and join you in a minute.”

He nodded and left her to retrieve his phone. 

“Mulder,” he barked into the mouthpiece.

“Agent Mulder, it’s Detective Reynolds.”

In the kitchen, Scully ran water in the sink. Mulder moved outside to the porch to take his call.

“You found something?” he asked as he paced the length of the porch.

“We did.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“The lab pulled a set of prints from your cardboard sign. They belonged to a Ronald Allen Gordon, born in ’48 in Addison, Illinois, served as a Staff Sergeant in Vietnam.”

Shit, it was seeming almost certain the corpse in the alley was the old vet. “Anything in the dumpsters?”

“Bupkis, but coincidentally…or not…we found an old Vietnam Boonie hat in a storm drain near the crime scene.”

“Did it happen to have a neon pink smilie face button pinned to it?”

“No, but forensics pulled a long white hair from the cap. We’re running the DNA.”

“Good. You want me to come in?”

“No need, not tonight. We should know more by morning.”

“Nice work, Detective. Thanks.”

Scully wandered out onto the porch just as Mulder was disconnecting his call. “Good news?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He set the phone on the wood railing, having no pockets.

Scully eyeballed his underwear.

The night air no longer carried the scorching heat of midday, but remained warm, which made him unapologetic for his state of undress. Clothes seemed optional, given the conditions and the privacy of their location.

“Sit with me.” He reached out a hand. Scully interlaced her fingers with his, accepting his invitation. He drew her to the glider, a new piece of furniture she’d bought to replace the old two-seater swing, which had begun to rot. Worse still, it reminded them both of his aborted suicide attempt eleven years ago. Two hours after she moved out, he sat there, a gun aimed at his brain, all hope gone. 

To think what he would’ve missed if he’d gone through with with that desperate plan. 

Life had turned out to be more wondrous than he would’ve believed possible. He’d checked himself into a recovery center and got well. He returned to work. Scully returned to him. Then Katie came into their lives, bringing true happiness and fulfillment. Right when they needed it most. 

There was much to be grateful for. Most especially the woman right beside him. The great love of his life. The mother of his children. His constant.

He sat on the glider and she settled next to him. Her smooth leg brushed against his bare thigh when he gave the glider a gentle push. The friction caused goosebumps to rise on his legs and arms despite the balmy air. Beyond the porch, out in the dark yard, the last of the season’s fireflies twinkled in and out of the tree branches. A seeming symphony of crickets chirped an endless chorus in the tall grasses, while a mockingbird imitated their strident refrain from a chokecherry bush at the property line. The humid air was rich with the spicy scent of summersweet. It smelled like honey and cloves. 

He’d fallen in love with this place the moment he saw it. He knew even then, it would become a home for them. A haven. And now, with Scully and Katie here with him, it was perfect, in spite of its imperfections.    

He lifted Scully’s hand to his lips and planted a row of feather-light kisses along her knuckles. “So, you’ve heard about my day. Now, tell me more about yours.”

“Overall, it was very nice.” She squeezed his fingers. “As you know from the text I sent you this afternoon, Katie and I went swimming in the pond. She’s becoming quite a little fish.”

“Yes, thank you for the photo. It’s my new wallpaper.” He nodded at his phone on the railing.

Scully’s expression turned more serious. “Katie wasn't herself earlier…when she came in from playing outside. She seemed, I don’t know, sullen, withdrawn.”

“That doesn’t sound like her. Did something happen?”

“I asked and she said no. Then she asked a strange question about where babies come from.”

“Really? Strange in what way?”

“She was under the mistaken impression they came from something she called ‘egg sacks.’”

That was…weird. A photo he’d seen earlier today of a spider’s egg sac flashed through his mind. Was there a connection? It didn’t seem likely, but it niggled at him nonetheless. “Did you set her straight?”

“I did. In fact, we had our most comprehensive discussion to date about reproduction.”

“Better you than me.” He gave the glider another lazy push. “So she knows everything now?”

“Well, no. She didn’t ask how an egg turns into a baby, so I decided to save the subject of fertilization for a future mother-daughter talk. Hopefully, several years from now.”

“Yeesh, I can’t believe she’s already old enough to be curious about this stuff.”

Scully pulled his hand into her lap and looked up at him with an inquisitive expression. “How old were you when you learned the facts of life?”

“I’m not sure I understand them now,” he joked. 

She chuckled. “I think you’ve got it down.”

“Thank you.”

“Did your dad give you ‘The Talk’?”

“Hell, no. Thank God. I learned mostly from my friends. And Kelly McCarty.”

“Who’s Kelly McCarty?”

“A 15-year-old 10th-grade goddess, with the biggest breasts, tiniest waist, and longest legs of any girl in my high school. All the boys had it bad for her and for whatever reason, she picked me to date. Well, not ‘date’ so much as ‘fuck.’”

“Really? At fifteen? You were fifteen, too?”

“Um…no. I was thirteen.”

“Jesus, Mulder. That’s….”

“Young, I know. Kelly pulled a condom from her purse, handed it to me, and shortly thereafter, I lost my virginity.”

“At least you practiced safe sex.”

He grunted in agreement. He’d realized only much later how lucky he’d been that his first experience was with a girl who was as responsible as she was sexy. “Long before that, when I was just a kid—”

“You were a kid then.”

“Well, yes, but further back, I thought babies came from hospitals, the way household goods and candy came from Alley's General Store over in West Tisbury. I guess I thought that because Mom went to Charlton Memorial without a baby and came back five days later with Sam.”

“You didn’t notice your mother was nine months pregnant?”

“I was only four at the time. Mom’s size wasn’t exactly on my radar. Of course, she and Dad never mentioned anything about there being a baby on the way.” He supposed that was pretty typical for the time. One of the rare instances in which his boyhood was like any other. “But back to Katie. She’s not coming down with something, is she?”

“I don’t think so but I’ll keep an eye on her. She perked up considerably once we got into our swimsuits.” 

“That would've perked me up, too.” He waggled his brows and made a show of raking her body with his eyes.

She ignored his ogling and gave a tug on his undershorts. “You look ready for a swim right now. Don’t you think you should put on some pants?” 

“I’m perfectly comfortable.”

“What will the new neighbors think?”

“Funny you should mention that.” He glanced over at the house next door. It was mostly obscured by trees, shadows, and distance. A dim rectangle of light from a lit window was the only indication the house was now occupied after years of standing empty. “It’s kind of embarrassing to say this, but…well…Jenna came on to me.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I were.”

“What did she do?”

“Stood too close. Put her hand on my arm. Batted her eyelashes. You know, flirty stuff.” Actually, it was less like flirting and more like the Kindred’s “radar love,” strong enough to produce anaphylactic shock or a coronary. He’d certainly felt like he was having a heart attack.

“Maybe she was just showing her appreciation for your help,” Scully suggested.

“No. It was more than that. I know flirting when I see it. It felt…” He conjured up the feeling again, the unease and embarrassment. “Uncomfortable. In the extreme.”  

“What did you do?”

“I left as soon as I could.”

She studied him for a minute. Just when he was about to ask her what she was thinking, she said, “Mulder, I don’t think you realize the effect you have on women.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“So, it’s my fault Jenna made advances?”

“Now it’s advances, is it? A moment ago, it was just flirting.”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

She leaned against him and ran her finger back and forth along the hem of his undershorts where the fabric hugged his thigh. “I guess I should feel jealous.”

“You guess? Thanks.”  

“Is there a reason I should feel jealous?”

“I don’t know. Have you ever…?”

“With you? Sure.”

“When?”

“Hm, let’s see. If I’m being honest—”

“Please do.”

“I felt a twinge that time I saw you with Phoebe Green. Dancing. Kissing. Whatever.”

“As long ago as that?”

“Yeah. Well. Oh, and Entomologist Bambi What’s-Her-Name set off a few warning bells.”

“Really.”

“Diana...of course.”

He cringed inwardly, hoping to skip as quickly as possible over that sore subject. “Of course.”

“Hey, that was a trust issue.”

“Understood.” Lord knows, he could’ve handled it better at the time. To accuse Scully of taking it personally…well, it wasn’t his finest moment and he was fucking lucky she didn’t kick him to the curb…permanently. “Any others?”

“Mm, I didn't much care for that trickster dog lady, um…Karin Berquist. Or…or Melissa ‘Soul Mate’ Ephesian either. And Detective ‘Horny Beast’ ticked me off a little, too.”

“Did she? They?”

“Hell, Mulder, I disliked that damn Jersey Devil!”

“Scully, I had no idea you felt this way.”

“I guess I'm a tad territorial.”

More than a tad, it seemed. She'd certainly hid it well. “I guess so.”

“I’m not proud of it, Mulder.”

“It’s endearing.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her more tightly against him. “I like it.”

“As for our new neighbor, I don’t believe you did anything on purpose, truly.”

“I didn’t do anything on purpose with the others either.”

“Sure.” Clearly she didn’t believe him. Or possibly she was just thinking about Diana. “Mulder, you’re a good looking man. Charming. Respectful. Women respond to that.”

“Scully, I’m telling you, it was more than that. It was…creepy.” An involuntary shiver ran through him as he recalled the interaction, his inability to move or speak, as if Jenna wielded some mystical power over him. Unable to escape or object, he’d felt completely at her mercy. Again he thought of the Kindred who produced pheromones a hundred times stronger than found anywhere in nature. 

She took notice of his unease and offered her sympathy. “I believe you. And I’m sorry that happened.” She lightly scratched her nails through the hair on his thigh. A smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “Do you want me to talk to her? I’d be happy to tell the bitch to keep her paws off my man.”

He chuffed, inwardly pleased Scully was willing to go to the mat for him. “Nah. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He tried to sound confident, yet wondered if it would be possible to simply avoid this new neighbor…forever. Standing, he offered Scully a hand up. “Sleep?”

She let him draw her to her feet and, as sometimes happened, he was struck anew by how petite she was. For such a compact person, she certainly dominated an outsized portion of his heart. She looked up at him through her lashes. Licked her plump lips. “Just sleep?”

“Who’s flirting now?” He smiled, collected his phone, and tugged her toward the door and their bedroom.

THE NEXT MORNING
7:15 AM

Mulder buckled his belt and knotted his tie, readying himself for another day of hunting monsters. Scully recently asked if he ever got bored investigating X-Files, given how long he’d been at it. He responded by staring at her like she’d sprouted two heads, which would be an interesting X-File itself if she could actually grow a second noggin at will. He stepped into his wingtips, tied the laces, and then went straight to Katie’s room. It was wakeup time. 

“Up and at’em, pipsqueak.” Mulder leaned down and kissed Katie on the cheek, causing her lids to flutter open.

“Daddy,” she said without an ounce of enthusiasm. No smile. No eager look.

Scully was right, something was wrong with their little girl. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took ahold of her hand, Lilliputian compared to his own. “You okay?”

Her elfin fingers curled loosely around his thumb. She gave a shrug.

“You feeling sick?”

She shook her head no.

“How about sad?”

“I guess.”

Now he was on to something. Time to wheedle it out of her. “It’s okay to feel that way. Everyone feels sad once in a while.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.”

“I didn’t know that.” She sat up and pressed her palm against his arm, as if to console him for some past or future sorrow. “What makes you sad, Daddy?”

Knowing my little girl is unhappy, he thought. However, not wanting to put the responsibility of his emotions on her, he said, “The Yankees losing to the Red Sox.”

She nodded as if she understood. Maybe she did. She certainly heard him grumbling often enough when his favorite team lost. He should really try harder to keep his frivolous disappointments under wraps.

“Did something happen to Lisa?” he asked, noticing her doll — her constant companion — was nowhere in sight.

Katie snatched back her hand. Her focus darted around the room, settling anywhere but on him. “Maybe,” she said in a muted voice. Was she trembling?

“Where is Lisa?” he asked. 

Whispering, she said, “I can’t tell you.”

The obvious fear in her voice sent a chill through him. All of his protective instincts kicked into overdrive. 

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart. You know that.”

“Not this.”

He reached for her and she crawled into his lap. He gave her a cuddle, heartfelt and tender. She fiddled with his tie as she often did, attracted to its silky smoothness while resenting the reason he wore it, the job that took him away from her, one long day after the next. He kissed the crown of her head. Her gossamer hair, satiny against his lips, was the exact same color as his own. Before his hair had become streaked with gray, of course. “Yes, you can,” he urged, keeping his tone calm and soothing. 

“But…no…I…I want to be a hero.” Her voice rose in pitch, grew to a heartbreaking wail. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away. “I-I want to be like you, Daddy.”

“Let me be the hero. That’s what I’m here for. Tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen?”  

“Yes.”

“What?”

“The twins…the twins, they said…” She buried her face against his chest. Her entire body was shaking. He felt his own pulse quicken. 

“What did they say?”

“They said they’ll hurt Mommy if I tell.” She was sobbing now, clearly frightened by the neighbor girls’ threat. 

Alarmed, he pushed her for details, saying, “I can protect Mommy. But I have to know how they said they’ll hurt her.”

“Cut off her head!” she keened. “Like they cut off Lisa’s head!”   

“They cut off Lisa’s head?”

“Yes!”

“How, uh, exactly did they do that?”

“With Isla’s chels!”

“Wait, ‘chels’?” Could that be short for ‘chelicerae’? The reference he’d found yesterday said Black Widows injected digestive enzymes into their victims via chelicerae — retractable poison-filled fangs. “Katie, what do you mean by chels?” 

“They’re wires with sharp points and lots of spit! Isla folded them into her mouth when I asked about them…after she hurt Lisa!” Katie could barely get the words out, she was so upset. “Daddy, Luna and Isla said they want to be my friends but I don’t like them anymore. They lie. And they’re mean. And they want to hurt Mommy!” 

“You don’t have to be friends with them, Katie.”

“I don’t?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’m throwing away their stupid friendship pin! I don’t want it!”

“Pin?” Could it be…? His Spooky Alarm began clanging a DEFCON 1 warning. “Is the pin pink with a smilie face?”

“Uh-huh.” Katie nodded and wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. 

“Show me.” He lifted her to the floor.

She ran to her bureau and opened the bottom drawer. After digging around, she withdrew the Vietnam vet’s pink smilie face button.

Fuck. 

The puzzle pieces were falling into place and the clues were all pointing in the same direction. The smilie face pin placed Jenna Weber at the scene of the most recent murder. An eye witness account described what could’ve been her and her daughters at the second. And the headless Ken doll at the initial crime scene? Mulder was certain it was connected as well…somehow. Scully would argue this was all hearsay. Circumstantial evidence at best. But taking into account the bug Katie said one of the twins ate and her description of articulating ‘wires’ in Isla’s mouth — not to mention the freaky-deaky reaction Mulder had to Jenna’s perfume or pheromones or whatever the hell had caused him to freeze up — Mulder was convinced. Jenna and her daughters killed and cannibalized at least three grown men. They were the spider monsters he was hunting.

It sounded extreme. Implausible if not impossible. It sounded like an X-File.

“Katie, Daddy’s needs that pin, okay?”

“Okay.” She handed it to him. 

He slipped it into his pants’ pocket, then stepped from her room out into the hall, where he yelled down the stairs, “Scully, I need you up here. Right now.” 

“What is it?” she asked when she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide, brows climbing.

“Get Katie dressed, put her in the car, and take her as far away from the house as possible.” He thundered down the steps and lurched past her. In his home office, he unlocked the gun safe and removed his Glock. 

Scully followed him in. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

“Next door.” He checked the magazine. Seventeen rounds. He holstered the gun and clipped the holster to his belt. “Jenna’s the killer.”

“What? The spider monster you’ve been chasing?

“Yes.” He strapped on his ankle holster and thrust his Walther into it. Seven more rounds. The safe held a loaded SIG Sauer, which he handed to Scully. “The twins are involved, too.”

“Mulder, are you sure?”

“Scully, last night you said I’d earned the benefit of the doubt. Believe me on this.” He was halfway to the front door.

“Wait! What about backup?” Don’t say it, Scully, he thought, even as he knew she would. “Mulder, I should go with you.”

He stopped, turned to face her. “Your priority is Katie’s safety. Protect her. I’ll call Somers for backup.”

“It’ll take him 20 minutes to get here! Maybe more.”

Most likely more, he thought. 

She stood before him, worried, but as brave as ever, ready to jump back into the role of agent to watch his back. He could use her help, no question, but couldn’t risk leaving Katie on her own. There was no telling where Jenna and her daughters were right now. The twins had already threatened both Katie and Scully.

“Take Katie and go. Now.” He pulled her into a quick embrace. “I’ll be fine.”

Best case scenario: he'd arrest Jenna and bring her in for questioning. 

Worst case? Jenna would do whatever it took to protect her family. He couldn’t fault her for that. He’d do the same. He was doing it right now.

“Get Katie away from here, Scully, and don’t come home until you hear from me.”

She exhaled, appearing to steel herself. The set of her jaw told him she understood, while the pleading look in her eyes belied her resolve. She tucked the SIG into the waistband of her shorts at the small of her back. “Be careful, Mulder.”

“When am I not?” He managed a rueful smile before setting off at a jog for the house next door.

FARRS CORNER, VIRGINIA

Phone in hand, Mulder dialed Somers’ number as he ran past Katie’s rope swing on his way to Jenna Weber’s house. He paused at the break in the dilapidated fence at the property line. A thick copse of evergreen trees hid him from view while his call rang through.

“Hey, Mulder, what’s cracking?” Somers asked.

“My knees these days, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Why are you calling?”

“My next door neighbor is our killer.” Mulder eyed Jenna’s Honda, parked in the driveway where he’d helped her start it yesterday. “I don’t have time to explain.”

“Say less.”

“I thought I was being perfectly succinct.”

“No, ‘say less’ means I understand, no further explanation is needed.” Ah, Gen Z slang. A squeal of tires and the roar of Somers’ car engine came through the earpiece of Mulder’s phone before Somers continued, “I’m on my way. Stay put, Mulder. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

“Oopsie.” Mulder stepped over the collapsed fence, sweat inching down his spine.

“I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I?”

“Better beat feet, kiddo.” Keeping low, Mulder circled Jenna’s car and peeked inside. It was empty. “That’s Geezer Lingo for ‘get your ass in gear.’”

“I hate to break it to you, old man, but both expressions are Geezer Lingo. And only geezers say ‘geezer.’”

“Just get here.” Punk. “Quickly.”

“Will do.” Horns blared, including Somers’. “Wait for me before you—”

Mulder discontinued the call, cutting Somers off. He pocketed the phone, drew his gun, and cautiously approached Jenna’s front porch. 

Head swiveling, he scanned the far edges of the yard as he climbed the steps. Nothing moved in the breathless air. A loose stair tread groaned beneath his feet. A spiderweb bridged a pair of rotted balusters below the handrail. A round-bodied spider at its center tucked in its legs and hunkered low as Mulder passed by. 

At the landing, Mulder discovered the front door ajar. It felt like an invitation. He swallowed the urge to announce himself and nudged the door open with his foot.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung inward. Taking one last look behind him, he stepped inside. 

The abrupt change from bright sunshine to the shadowy interior left Mulder momentarily blind. He halted, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The house was silent except for the quiet hum of a refrigerator in the kitchen to his left and the ticking of a clock somewhere up ahead. The unconditioned air held the day’s feverish warmth and a whiff of bleach. A familiar tension knotted his shoulders, while a kick of adrenaline made his heart beat faster. Chasing monsters never got boring, no matter how many hours he logged.     

Vision returned, he stepped inside. One, two paces and his toe hit something small and plastic. It skidded several feet across the plank floor before it rolled to a stop.

A chuff of surprise escaped his lungs when he recognized what the thing was. The head of a doll. A male doll, blond and bronzed. Ken. 

Without warning, a weight plummeted from somewhere above and landed hard on his shoulders and back. It knocked him off balance, dropped him to one knee. He fought to shake it off.

It clung to him like Phoebe Green during a certain youthful indiscretion in an English churchyard. And much like then, a woman’s smooth, bare arm looped around his neck, while her legs gripped his waist. The similarity ended when additional limbs unfolded and encircled his torso — black and jointed, furred with needle-sharp hairs, tipped with serrated claws. They pinned his arms to his sides. 

“Will you walk into my parlour?” Jenna purred into his ear, reciting the opening line of The Spider and the Fly. “’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.”

“No thanks, I’ve heard that one,” he rasped, his neck caught in the vise of her arm. “Doesn’t end well for the fly.”

Her spider’s legs squeezed his ribcage, testing the limits of his bones. The Glock dropped from his hand. It hit the floor with a dispiriting thud. Out of reach. Of course. He struggled to free himself. Loosen her hold. Breathe. But her limbs held him immobile. He could only watch in horror as one of her clawed legs probed the holster at his ankle and plucked out the Walther PPK.

A scent of honey and vinegar began to permeate the air. It drifted up his nose, swirled into his sinuses. The same fragrance he’d noticed the morning he’d helped her start her car.  

He tried to shout — demand she let him go, recite her Miranda rights, anything at all — but no words would come.

“I can’t believe you’ve come to me!” she breathed into his ear. “You’ve saved me from arranging a private rendezvous.” She nuzzled his cheek, tightened her hold. “We’re alone, rest assured. When I saw you coming across the lawn, I sent my girls off to play with Katie. I don’t expect them to return anytime soon.”

Katie… Scully…had they left yet?

Fangs sank into his neck. Pain sizzled like lightning beneath his skin. It radiated outward. Down his arms. Burrowed deep into his chest. He groaned. Arched his back. The fangs retreated but the pain grew more intense. It spread through his abdomen, his groin, his legs. 

His vision blurred. His muscles ceased working. He collapsed face-down on the floor. 

It was only then that Jenna released her hold and climbed off him. His lungs filled with the tainted air. He found himself paralyzed, unable to move or speak, barely able to see. 

Through what seemed a dense and rippling fog, he watched her crawl around him, skittering on her insect legs. A nightmarish chimera, half human, half spider. Dangerous, crafty, tenacious. She whistled as she strutted about, sounding almost cheerful while she methodically bound first his ankles and then his wrists with silken threads…threads she ejected from spinnerets on her inhuman torso. 

When she’d finished and had him fettered and helpless, she grabbed his jaw in her fist, lifted his chin from the floor, and locked eyes with him. Her face appeared hazy and distorted beyond his limited vision. Try as he might, he could detect no humanity in her gaze. No empathy. No regret. A triumphant laugh burbled from her throat, just before she sprayed a mask of sticky silk over his bleary eyes.

Blind and incapacitated, he felt her drag him across the hardwood floor, hoping beyond hope Scully had gotten Katie far, far away. Someplace safe beyond Jenna’s or the twins’ reach. 

“The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,” Jenna continued to recite Howitt’s poem as she tugged him up and over one bruising step after the next, “and I have many pretty things to shew when you are there.”

“Put these on. Quickly.” Scully held out a t-shirt and shorts to Katie.

“Where did Daddy go?”

“Work.” It was a half truth…or a partial lie, depending on your point of view. “Get dressed.”

Katie pulled the shorts on over her clean panties. Scully tugged the shirt over her daughter’s head and in her rush, snagged a tangled lock of chestnut hair. “Ow!” Katie protested.

“Sorry. Here are your sneakers.” 

Scully’s mind raced. Where to go. What to bring. Was Mulder okay? She pushed this last thought aside. Compartmentalize. Prioritize, she reminded herself. She wasn’t prone to panic, her training and her personality disallowed it. Logic was the only useful option, even when it came to Katie’s safety. Most especially then.

“I want to wear sandals, Mommy.” 

“Not today.” 

Katie did as she was told. She sat on the floor and wiggled her small feet into her sneakers.

Scully grabbed Katie’s backpack and stuffed it with things she might need if they had to be gone for more than a few hours. PJs, a change of clothes, crayons and coloring book, Lisa…. 

Lisa wasn’t in its usual place on Katie’s pillow. And now that Scully was thinking about it, she hadn't seen the doll when she tucked Katie in last night. She scanned the room, searching for the doll. She yanked the covers from the bed. The doll wasn’t there. “Katie, where’s—”

Katie’s high-pitched scream pierced the quiet and raised the hair on the back of Scully’s neck. She followed Katie’s startled gaze to the open window. What she saw took her breath away. 

“Oh, my God….”

Luna and Isla Weber were scrambling through a tear in the window screen and up onto the sill from the outside…at least a dozen feet above the garden below. These weren’t the same twin girls Scully had met two days ago. They were a frightful amalgamation of human and arachnid physiology. The type of mutation she’d once assured Mulder was impossible after Dr. Pollidori presented them with photographic evidence of Proboscopedia, his morphogenetically altered fruit fly with legs sprouting from its mouth. The creatures crawling in through Katie’s second-floor window were more improbable than Pollidori’s miscreations. Yet there they were. Their heads, arms, and legs essentially unaltered, while their torsos sported extra sets of limbs, legs that resembled those of a spider in every detail except their extreme size. The children’s malevolent expressions sent an icy chill racing through Scully’s veins.  

Scully dropped the backpack and seized Katie, lifting her from the floor and onto her hip. As Luna jumped from the sill into the bedroom, Scully darted for the door. She rushed down the stairs, Katie’s fingers biting into her arm as she held on, the girl’s legs wrapped tightly around her waist.

Car keys and phone, car keys and phone, she needed her car keys and phone. She’d left them on the kitchen counter. Adjusting her grip on Katie, she raced for the kitchen. Behind her she could hear the tip-tap of Luna’s claws descending the wooden stairs.

“Mommy!” Katie shrieked. 

Scully spun to see Luna scrabble over the stair rail on her spider’s legs, up the wall, and onto the ceiling. An incontrovertible lusus naturae. The creature moved with incredible speed as it skittered upside-down above Scully and Katie’s heads. Scully scooped up her phone and keys and bolted for the front door.

She didn’t make it. Luna dropped from the ceiling on a silvery thread of silk, landing with a clatter on her spiky legs, blocking Scully’s escape. 

“Tattletale.” Luna glared at Katie. “We warned you. Isla and I warned you.” 

“Nooo!” Katie buried her face in Scully’s neck. 

Scully shifted all of Katie’s weight to her left arm and hip, shoved her phone and keys into her pocket, and reached for the gun at the small of her back. Her fingers closed around the grip. Muscle memory kicked in. She drew and aimed the weapon at Luna in one smooth, accurate motion. 

“Back off,” she warned.

Luna danced from one clawed foot to the other, neither approaching nor retreating, watching intently.

Scully whirled and sprinted for the back door. Through a side window, she spotted Isla scuttling up the back steps.

“Damn it!” Scully pivoted again and ran down the short hall that led to the cellar stairs, hoping to get out of the house through the basement’s Bilco door.

She careened down the rough wooden staircase, her heart pounding, her arm aching from holding Katie for so long. The cool cellar air smelled musty and damp, and raised goosebumps on her bare legs and arms. Cobwebs draped the joists overhead and fogged the high, narrow windows — the only source of natural light. Through one of those windows, Scully could see Isla was already standing atop the closed Bilco door. 

They wouldn’t be getting out that way. Scully turned to backtrack up the stairs.

Luna appeared on the top step. “There’s no way out. Nowhere for you to go.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Scully warned, pointing her gun at Luna’s head. “I will shoot.” 

Luna folded up her long spider legs and settled onto the upper landing, her wrathful pink eyes aimed directly at Katie. 

Scully was tempted to shoot her anyway, just for threatening her child, but Katie didn’t need to witness that sort of terrifying spectacle, not again. Just before Christmas, Katie had been taken hostage by John Barnett. He’d held her in his lap, his gun to her head, when Mulder shot him at close range. It had taken months of therapy for Katie to recover from the trauma. Scully wouldn’t put her little girl through that again, not unless there was no other option. Instead, she backed slowly across the dusty cellar floor until she stood just outside the Hiding Room, the safe space Mulder had built while he, too, went through therapy for his part in Katie’s harrowing rescue. With one last angry look at Luna, Scully carried Katie into the room and bolted the heavy metal door behind them. 

With only a modicum of relief, she set Katie down and shook the ache from her arm. She felt for the wall switch and clicked on the overhead light, a harsh LED tube.

“Are we safe now?” Katie whispered, blinking against the glare.

“Yes, we’re safe, sweetie.” Another half-truth.

In some ways, the Hiding Room felt more like a dead-end trap than a sanctuary. The only way out was through the door they’d just entered. The room was stocked with food and water, a first aid kit, a composting toilet, and a vent that allowed fresh air to flow in from outside. It was constructed of cinderblock, but it wasn’t truly fireproof, flood-proof, or bulletproof. If someone was determined enough, they could get in or drive the occupants out. It was intended as a last defense against an impending threat. Like now. But they couldn’t stay there indefinitely. 

Scully checked her cell. Reception was weak and her battery was at only 43 percent, not ideal but not dire either.

From beyond the door, Luna asked, “Are you comfortable in there?”

Katie gasped and reached for Scully.

“We’re okay,” Scully assured her.

Tap, tap, tap, Luna scratched at the door, taunting them.

“She can’t hurt us,” Scully said, steering Katie to the bench at the back of the room, where they would sit and wait for help to arrive. To that end, Scully punched Walter Skinner’s phone number into her cell.

Mulder felt as if he was floating on his back in the pond behind his house. Katie splashed in the shallows near the shore where Scully reclined on an old battered chaise lounge, broad-rimmed hat shading her face, her fair skin chalked with SPF 50 sunscreen, her sky-blue eyes focused on her family. A soft smile curved her lips. 

Family. Nothing else mattered to Mulder. This second chance at fatherhood was a godsend, nothing short of miraculous. Impossible…until it wasn’t. He’d do whatever was necessary to keep his family safe and happy and together. Without a moment’s hesitation.

But for now, the sun beat down on his face and bare chest. Peaceful and pleasant. His arms and legs were outstretched, like a four-limbed starfish, the water velvety cool where it caressed his overheated skin. Like tender kisses tickling his flesh. The sky above was a brilliant blue, the color of cornflowers, the planet Neptune, morpho butterflies…and Scully’s eyes. He felt weightless. He had nowhere to go. He was worry-free.

"Sweet creature!” Jenna’s voice. Sultry. The smell of honey and vinegar prickled Mulder’s nose. "You're witty and you're wise.”

Her compliments weren't aimed at him. Not really. She was simply reciting that poem again. The Spider and the Fly. 

Even in his addled state, he understood he was the fly. 

“How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!” she continued, crawling over him on her extra pairs of legs, limbs that were articulated, segmented, and spear-like. Jenna, clearly, was the spider in this poem. Each of her inhuman limbs was divided into seven segments: the coxa, the trochanter, femur, patella, tibia, metatarsus, and tarsus. They were tipped with flexing, razor-sharp claws. He’d read about them online not long ago. 

Black Widows. Cannibalistic. With a killer instinct.

Dimly, Mulder recalled the pain he’d felt when Jenna bit him. The numbing paralysis. 

Not for the first time, he wondered where her twins girls had gone. Her pale spiderlings. Her “dwarf ghosts.”

He was vaguely aware he was a prisoner. Destined to be killed and eaten. Beheaded. Not necessarily in that order. 

Despite the circumstances, he was curious about her biology, her motives. Whether or not there were others like her and her daughters. This was not new for him. Whenever he discovered a previously unknown creature, he wanted to study it, learn how it came to be, what made it unique. He championed its right to exist even when everyone around him wanted to exterminate it.

Jenna straddled him, her extra spider legs and two human legs bridging his hips.

This couldn’t be real, could it? 

“It’s time for a new family,” she said. “Luna and Isla are growing up. Soon, they’ll be leaving home, wanting families of their own.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his tongue thick and cottony, his voice sounding a million miles away.

“Why not? You’ll be dead soon, poor man.” She stroked his cheeks with her human hands, her human fingers. “But not yet. Not until you provide me with what I need.”

“What do you need?”

“You. To make love to me. To father my babies. Lots of babies. More children than you can imagine.”

Father her…? What was she saying? What was she intending to do? 

She kissed his forehead with such tenderness he was reminded of Scully and it brought tears to his eyes. Jenna loosened his necktie and unfastened the buttons at his collar. Her lips nibbled at his chin, her tongue rode the hill of his Adam’s apple. She nipped his jaw, his collarbones. When something sharp in her mouth nicked the sensitive skin of his throat, he gasped.

Pain struck as if he’d been tased, bringing him back to himself, to reality. His arms and legs were bound, he realized, his eyes blindfolded by something sticky and wet. All the things he thought he had been seeing and feeling weren’t real, just a pheromone-induced delusion. He struggled against his bindings, against the weight of Jenna seated firmly over his hips.

He did not want to study or champion this creature. Or have sex with her or father her children. She was an insect and he’d never much liked bugs. He hated them and he wanted this one dead. She was a threat to him, to his family, to his baby girl. And at this moment, he feared he would never see Katie or Scully again. 

The idea made him flail and buck and curse. 

“Get the fuck off me! Get off, goddammit!” he bellowed. 

In response, she released another efflux of pheromones. Immediately, he ceased his thrashing. He felt euphoric. It was a rare, wondrous feeling for him. Like the day he sank a game-winning basket at his high school championship match. Or much later, when he and Scully finally, finally, finallymade love for the first time. And again more recently, the day Katie was born.    

Thinking of these things, he stopped struggling. His mind descended into a dream world where the best moments of his life swirled through his subconscious like leaves in a whirlwind.

FARRS CORNER, VIRGINIA

Weapon drawn, heart hammering, Agent Matthew Somers hesitated on Jenna Weber’s front porch to peer into the house through the open door. Nothing moved inside the murky foyer. Quiet and cautious, he stepped across the threshold.

A panicky shout from an upper floor startled him. “Get the fuck off me! Get off, goddammit!” It was Mulder and the intensity of his cry carried a lifetime’s worth of anger and desperation. Something godawful was happening upstairs.

Visions of the victims unspooled like a horror movie in Somers’ mind. Decapitated and emptied of all bodily tissues and fluids, even bone. Skin as brittle as sun-baked plastic. He’d been looking forward to seeing his first real-life mutant, an X-File to rival the cases he’d only read about since joining the Unit, but his enthusiasm dimmed as he slipped into the front hall and panned his weapon left to right. 

Mulder believed this monster was some sort of human-spider hybrid and Somers had no reason to doubt him. Mulder was a goddamn phenom when it came to the paranormal, able to intuit theories from nanoscopic clues and gut feelings. Some day, Somers hoped to be as adept as Mulder. He wanted to earn a nickname like “Spooky,” be listed as the Agent of Record alongside the department’s other extraordinary agents. No question, he admired Agent Scully and old timers Doggett and Reyes. But Mulder? He was a superstar. The best in the Bureau and as fine a mentor as Somers could hope for. Fox Mulder was the number one reason Somers applied for this assignment.

And now, Mulder needed his help. Somers would not let him down.     

A doll’s head with a vacant stare gaped at him from the middle of the plank floor. He briefly wondered if it belonged to the headless Ken doll they’d found wrapped in a miniature cocoon on the warehouse roof in East Baltimore earlier in the week. He stepped over it and took the stairs, two at a time. 

On the upper landing, he paused with his back to the wall while he scoped out the second-floor hallway. Overhead in the attic, someone was whistling a tune. The song sounded vaguely familiar. Something from his childhood. Was it…Itsy Bitsy Spider?

This monster apparently had a sense of humor. A warped one, but still….   

Somers made a quick search of the second floor to be sure no one else was in the house. Looking into what was clearly a kid’s room, he half expected to see the Vietnam vet’s “dwarf ghosts.” Instead, he found a lighted dollhouse and shelves crammed with Barbie dolls, but no children or their mother. He moved on to locate the entrance to the attic.

It didn’t take long. A cast iron spiral staircase at the far end of the hall led up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. He approached as quietly as possible, stopped below the opening, and stared up into the attic.

Cobwebbed roof rafters, dust motes suspended in a beam of daylight, a window with a cracked pane…. He’d have to climb the stairs to see anything more.

Above, the whistling ceased, but was soon followed by a woman’s voice, muted by distance. Her tone sounded conversational. Almost friendly. Maybe even a little…flirty?

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear,” she said, “with soaring up so high. Will you rest upon my little bed?” Her cadence was sing-song and gentle. Was she reciting a poem? “There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin, and if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!”

Somers placed one foot on the stair’s bottommost tread, cringing when his shoe scraped against the metal. The woman overhead stopped speaking. Had she heard him? He waited, holding his breath.

“Dear friend what can I do, to prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?” she asked.

For a brief moment, Somers thought she was addressing him. Until she continued with her recitation. He used the cover of her voice to ascend the stairs.

He thought he was prepared for whatever he might find in the attic, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The mutant…monster…creature was a mashup of human and arthropod, an improbable grotesquerie, much like mythological Kinnaras, Nagas, Manticores, and Harpies. Beneath the creature, Mulder was laid out on his back, ankles bound, wrists lashed above his head, eyes hidden behind a thick, stringy mask. He was fully clothed, though his shirt was undone, exposing his chest. His tie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor near his feet. He appeared to be unconscious or dead.

“Get off him and move away!” Somers demanded, gun aimed at the hybrid. He stepped off the staircase and into the attic.

The creature’s human head rotated atop its arachnid torso until its fierce, copper-colored eyes targeted Somers. It…her expression morphed from mild irritation to utter outrage. She held no weapon in her hands, but her spider’s legs flexed and shifted around Mulder’s prone body, each inhuman limb equipped with a pair of snapping, lethal claws.

“I said move!” Somers stood with feet apart, arms outstretched, the barrel of his Glock pointed directly at the creature’s skull. A head shot was trickier than firing at center mass, but given the creature’s unique anatomy, he couldn’t be sure if its heart was located in its chest, or if it even had a heart. But he bet it had a brain somewhere behind those hate-filled eyes.

She tossed back her head and emitted a low pulsing vibration deep in her throat. Her lips parted, her mouth gaped into an impossibly wide yawn. Two needle-sharp protuberances unfolded from her jaws. A mucilaginous substance dripped from their tips, glistening like tears.  

Lightning fast, she angled forward and drove those fangs deep into Mulder’s neck. Mulder bellowed and convulsed in pain. Blood spurted from the wound. Somers fired. The bullet struck the creature mid-body and knocked her back, sent her tumbling off Mulder and sprawling to the floor.

Like a corpse rising from the dead, she regained her footing and slowly stood. Balanced atop her insect legs, she towered over Mulder. Her ebony hair brushed the slanted attic roof. Her eyes glowed with contempt, the irises swirling with metallic sparks, the pupils as ominous as collapsing stars.     

She didn’t speak. She gave no warning. She charged at Somers, fangs extended, legs a flurry of motion. 

Somers fired again. And again. It took four rounds to drop her at his feet. Her claws twitched. Her eyes closed. Her fangs began to retract back into her open mouth, but stalled before they could disappear completely behind her bloodstained lips. 

Across the room, Mulder groaned.  

Somers hurried to his side and knelt. “Mulder, it’s Somers. Can you hear me?”

“Mm. Old…not deaf,” Mulder wheezed. “Or dead. Untie…me.”

Somers holstered his gun to allow him to dig his leatherman from his pocket and cut Mulder’s bindings. “I’m going to try to get this stuff off your eyes,” he warned.

The sticky blindfold didn’t come off easily. Somers resisted the urge to rip it off like a stubborn bandaid. With some gentle tugging, he managed to remove a portion of it. Underneath, Mulder’s lids were purple and swollen shut.

“Leave it, Junior. Scully…Katie…,” Mulder gasped, “make sure…they’re okay.” 

“You need medical attention.”

The twin punctures in Mulder’s neck appeared deep but not life threatening…at least not from blood loss. However the flesh around them was fiery red and swollen. Mulder shivered as if freezing cold, though he was slicked with sweat and the attic was hotter than the gates of Hell.  

“No…time.” Mulder strained to suck in a lungful of air. “Twins. Dwarf…ghosts. Go! That’s—” Mulder coughed. Began again. “That’s an order, Agent Somers.” Mulder’s voice faded to an inaudible whisper, undermining the clout of his command. But Mulder was the senior agent, making him Somers’ superior. Somers wasn’t free to disobey or argue.

“I’ll find them. Don’t worry.” Somers shed his suit coat and covered Mulder with it. “Hang on. Help’ll be here soon.”

Somers was on his cell with a 911 operator before he reached the spiral stairs. He gave directions as he descended to the second and then the main floor. He was assured EMTs were on the way, ETA 15 minutes. A quarter hour was a long time. Should he go back up and try to help Mulder? He’d had basic First Aid training but he wasn’t a medic. 

Dana Scully, however, was a medical doctor and she should be right next door. Somers’s priorities switched from finding the twin girls to finding Dr. Scully. Maybe in doing so, he’d locate the girls, too. Two birds, one stone.    

He hurried out of the house and down the porch steps. It would be quicker to run next door than drive, he decided, so he left his car parked where it was and raced across the yard. Moments later, he was brought up short when he spotted a young child standing at a break in the fence at the property line. The girl’s long hair was snow white, her eyes pink, and she had the palest skin he’d ever seen. She wore a lavender sundress and sparkling sandals. Several ragged holes, about waist high, marred the pretty fabric of her dress. She didn’t have any spider-like appendages or other arachnid features, but even so, he kept a distance of about 20 feet between them.

“Hello,” she said. She held a Barbie doll in one hand, dressed like a ballerina.

“Hello.”

“I need to show you something.” She began to walk away, heading across the weedy lawn toward the forested backyard. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” He glanced back at the house where Mulder waited for medical attention. “I don’t have time to play games.”  

“Oh, this isn’t a game, mister.”

Game, trick or something else, he didn’t trust this kid. A sense of foreboding whirled in his gut. She may not have spider’s legs, but his instincts were screaming at him to take care, stay alert. She could be every bit as dangerous as the creature he’d just killed in the attic.

She began to skip away from him. He picked up his pace, keeping her in sight while leaving a healthy distance between them. At the base of a gnarled oak, she spun, giggled, and pointed her Barbie like a magic wand. “There,” she said.

A rusty wheelbarrow was parked beneath the tree, partially obscured by the oak’s thick trunk. The barrow was filled to overflowing with something he couldn’t identify without coming closer. What the hell were those lumpy things? Clods of earth? Rotting cabbages?    

He drew his gun but kept it aimed at the ground. The girl laughed and twirled on her toes, her Barbie going round and round with her. Six paces and Somers began to make out the details of the mysterious pile in the barrow.  

Gaping mouths, slits for eyes, severed necks…these were the victims’ heads in various stages of decomposition. Blackened by dried blood. Features frozen in terror. There were far more than three in the pile. A dozen at least. Flies formed a buzzing cloud above them. A fetid stench of decay permeated the muggy air. Somers swallowed the bile that prickled the back of his throat and willed his stomach not to heave up the coffee and danish he’d had for breakfast.

He took three staggering steps closer before he remembered the girl. When he looked for her, he discovered she had disappeared, vanished somewhere in the shadowy forest.   

“Hey!” he shouted. “Where did you go?”

The only response was the caw of a distant crow. The rustle of a squirrel. No running footsteps. No childish laughter. 

He tried to guess the girl’s motives, her next steps. Was she hiding just a short distance into the woods? Circling back to Mulder? Was she truly what Mulder thought she was, another mutation, part human, part spider, the offspring of the creature in the attic? 

Somers wrestled with what to do next. In the end, he decided his priority was to find Dr. Scully, make sure she and Katie were okay, and get help to Mulder. The hunt for the girl and her sister could wait. 

At least five minutes had already passed since Somers left Mulder. He broke into a run. It took him only seconds to cross Mulder’s property. He sprinted between Dr. Scully’s Highlander and Mulder’s Explorer parked in the gravel drive, and bounded up the porch steps. Unexpectedly, he found the front door to the house wide open.

He paused there at the threshold, a bad feeling prickling his scalp. He quashed the urge to dash in and call out. Dr. Scully and Katie could be hiding, or worse, they might be hostages. He didn’t want to risk putting them in greater danger by alerting their captor. 

Could he chance texting her? Hoping Dr. Scully had access to her phone and it was set to silent mode, he typed a short message: 

WRU RUOK

He hit send.

Scully kept a protective arm tucked around Katie as they sat side-by-side on the bench at the back of the Hiding Room. Her phone rested on her thigh where she could keep an eye on the screen while waiting for word from Skinner. 

“Is Uncle Walter coming soon?” Katie asked. Her lower lip trembled.

“As soon as he can, sweetie,” she said, hoping it was true. After Scully had explained the situation to Skinner, he promised to send a SWAT team. She believed him. He wouldn’t let them down. Wouldn’t let Mulder down.

What the hell was happening to Mulder right now? Was he okay? If he had successfully apprehended Jenna, wouldn’t he be back by now? She hated being trapped in here, not knowing what was happening. She briefly considered locking Katie in the Hiding Room by herself and going to help Mulder. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea. Luna still waited beyond the door. If something happened to Scully, Katie would be left all alone for who knew how long. She couldn’t chance it.

Her phone vibrated, startling her. She hoped it was an update from Skinner or better yet, word from Mulder. But it was Agent Matthew Somers’ name that came up on the display.

She opened and read the text. It was unclear if he’d already come to Mulder’s aid and was now looking for her and Katie, or if something else had happened.

She quickly typed: trapped in cellar w katie. She finished the text with emojis of a spider and a girl and the warning “b careful.”

“Is that Daddy?” Katie asked.

“No, it’s Agent Somers.”

A response came back: OMW

Scully considered giving Somers more specifics but figured he already knew what he was up against.

Beyond the door, Luna continued her tap-tap-tapping. “I’m still here,” she said at intervals, making Katie cling more tightly to Scully’s arm. “Come out to play, Katie. Push me on the swing. We can be friends again.”

Katie whimpered. Scully kissed her head and murmured, “You’re okay.”

Luna gave three pounding raps on the door. “Katie, I have Lisa,” she claimed. “You want her?”

“Mommy, is she lying?”

“Probably.”

“Why is she so mean?”

Before Scully could respond, Somers’ voice carried down the cellar stairs. “FBI! Move away from the door or I’ll shoot.” This was followed by a skittering of claws. Katie went rigid beside Scully. Three quick gunshots echoed through the basement. Katie jerked after each blast. 

Several interminable seconds of silence passed before Somers announced, “It’s safe to come out.”

Scully pocketed her phone and tucked her SIG into the waistband of her shorts. Her hands trembled as she unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door. On the other side, Somers stood over Luna’s body, which lay crumpled and bloody at his feet. Scully nudged Katie behind her to block her view.

“Where’s Mulder?” Scully asked.

“Next door and he needs medical help. EMTs are on the way but—”

“Mommy!” Katie warned, pointing at the stairs.

Somers spun to face the threat. Scully gasped when she saw Isla standing on the upper landing, her human body transforming before their eyes. Legs sprouted spear-like from the girl’s torso, ripping through the fabric of her sundress as they telescoped out, longer and longer, the jointed segments curving beneath her. These impossible limbs lifted her high into the air until she appeared to be floating, stretched out like a Man O’ War above the ocean bottom. Her human head and arthropod thorax fused together to form an impenetrable cephalothorax. Bristles mushroomed from the armored plates of her legs. Obsidian claws fluttered and snapped, serrated and flashing like knives. Fanged chelicerae extended from her open jaws, dripping with deadly venom.  

“What did you do to Luna?” Isla screeched. “What did you do to my sister?”

Isla scrambled down the stairs at a speed faster than Scully would’ve thought possible. Before the creature reached the bottom, it leapt into the air and landed on Somers, who collapsed beneath it. Katie screamed when one of Isla’s claws bit into Somers’ arm, causing his gun to spiral from his hand.

Scully didn’t hesitate. She drew her SIG and fired. One, two, three blasts rang out.

Isla ceased moving. Somers shoved her off him and rose on shaky legs. Blood dripped from a tear in his sleeve. 

“You’re hurt,” Scully said. 

“I’m okay.” Wincing, he gripped his bleeding arm.

She wanted to check his wound but he raised a hand to stop her. “Mulder needs your help. He’s in the attic next door. The neighbor’s dead. Go.”

“I want to go, too, Mommy,” Katie pleaded.

“No, you stay with Agent Somers.” Scully didn’t want Katie seeing Mulder if he was badly injured. She refused to let herself consider a worse alternative. “There’s a SWAT team coming,” she told Somers. “Keep Katie safe until they arrive or until I return.”

“I will,” he promised.

With a quick nod, she ran up the stairs, ignoring Katie’s frantic cries of “Mommy! Mommy!”

The first aid kit was in the kitchen. Scully grabbed it and rushed out the front door, past the swing and the fence, across Jenna Weber’s yard and into her house. Racing up the stairs to the second floor, she stuffed her worries about longterm trauma to Katie into her personal mental lockbox, a section of her brain that had no scientific corroboration, but which had served her well over the years when triaging emotionally difficult decisions. Right now Mulder’s immediate needs took priority. She climbed the spiral staircase to the attic.

“Mulder?” she called out when she spotted him in the shadows, sprawled on his back, motionless as a corpse.

Between them, Jenna lay bloodied and dead, her spidery legs curled close to her body. A monster. Exactly what Mulder had predicted. Or intuited. Or whatever skill or gift or wizardry he possessed that allowed him to see and understand the universe the way he did.

Scully stepped around Jenna and hurried to him. Her feelings as his wife went into her mental lockbox along with her concerns for Katie, allowing her to view him as a patient. In full control of her emotions, she began to assess his condition. 

He was unconscious. Pulse thready. Skin clammy. His eyes were swollen shut, the lids purple. She had difficulty opening them to check his pupils. A glue-like substance stuck to his lashes, brows, and hair. Two inflamed puncture wounds below his jaw were causing considerable edema in his neck, compromising his respiration. He was sweating. He twitched with muscle spasms.

She put an ear to his chest, wishing she had her stethoscope. His heartbeat was weak and irregular. When it stopped altogether, she immediately checked his mouth for obstructions and, finding none, started CPR. 

“Stay with me, Mulder. Help is on the way.”

Fingers interlaced, the heels of her hands centered on his sternum, she used her weight to push as hard as she could. Where were the damn EMTs? She counted off thirty seconds of chest compressions followed by two rescue breaths.

“Don’t you dare die, Mulder. Katie needs you. I need you.”

Two minutes passed while she continued to pump his chest, breathe into his lungs. 

At three minutes, she heard the sound of approaching sirens.

“Goddamn it, Mulder! Breathe!”

At four minutes, two EMTs climbed the stairs, equipment in hand. A third pushed a portable basket stretcher up into the attic. 

“Over here,” Scully directed them.

“What about her?” The lead paramedic pointed to Jenna’s body, a look of disbelief on his face.

“She’s dead.” Scully continued her compressions, refusing to give way until the defibrillator was set up and the electrode pads attached.

It took only seconds but felt like an eternity.

“Clear!” the technician ordered at last and pressed the button to deliver an electrical charge to Mulder’s heart.

Time slowed to a crawl as the AED checked for a rhythm, found none, and indicated the need for a second shock. 

“Clear!”

Mulder’s heart still refused to beat.

“Again!” the lead paramedic ordered.  

“Clear!” The technician pressed the shock button a third time.

Please, God, Scully prayed, I can’t lose him. I can’t—  

“We have a rhythm,” the technician announced.

Relief flooded through Scully, as welcome as the reassuring sound of her father’s car turning into their drive after months at sea, or the light in Melissa’s eyes when she helped Dana dress for her first date, or the soft feel of Mulder’s lips, tentative and tender, kissing her for the first time while the world celebrated the start of a new millennium. 

She could breath again. 

Mulder was given oxygen, strapped to the stretcher, and maneuvered down the helical stairs, while Scully explained to the paramedics that he may have been bitten by a poisonous spider and would need antivenom injections. 

“We’ll set up an IV in the ambulance,” he promised.

Outside the house, the yard was chaotic, swarming with police officers and FBI personnel, crowded with cruisers and fleet sedans. Skinner’s SWAT Team poured out of an armored truck, though their help was no longer necessary. Skinner exited a hulking RDV and beelined for Scully, who stood watching the EMTs load Mulder into an ambulance.

“How is he?”

“Alive. For now.”

“And Katie?”  

“She’s—” Scully spotted Somers carrying Katie across the weedy lawn. “She’s fine.” 

“Mommy!” Katie reached out for her. 

Somers passed her to Scully’s waiting arms. She held her daughter tightly and murmured calming words into her ear. 

“Agent Somers, you’re bleeding,” Skinner said, noticing Somers’ torn sleeve and cut arm. “Have the paramedics look at that. When you’re finished, I want a full report of what happened here.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” Katie strained to peer over Scully’s shoulder into the ambulance.

Not wanting to scare her, Scully assured her everything would be fine. “The doctors just want to check him out at the hospital.”

“Can I see him?”

“When he’s feeling better.” She rocked Katie in her arms, while praying Mulder would pull through. 

Recovery was far from assured. There was no telling what Jenna had done to him, what poisons were racing through his veins right now.

HOLY CROSS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

Time seemed to simultaneously race and stand still in the ICU. Monitors beeped, ventilators hissed, nurses rushed about, their shoes squeaking like those of athletes on a ball court. For two long days, Mulder remained unconscious and intubated. Tubes pushed fluids into his veins and drained them from his bladder. A wide variety of pharmaceuticals addressed the poisons in his system, the edema in his throat. Bruises deepened to purple-black beneath his eyes, around his wrists and ankles, in the deep tissue of his back. 

Scully stayed with him as much as possible, checking his vitals, bullying the staff. She divided her days between Mulder’s needs and Katie’s. Walter Skinner and Matthew Somers both took turns entertaining Katie so that Scully could spend time with Mulder. Scully didn’t trust her with anyone else. Matthew took Katie to the zoo. Walter brought her to work and fed her ice cream for lunch from the Bureau cafeteria. Scully found herself missing her mother more than ever during this stressful time.

At night, Scully allowed Katie to sleep with her. Katie cried for her father. Unconsolable, she begged to see him.

“Not yet, sweetie. He needs to rest.”

“Why can’t he rest here with us?”

“He needs special medicines.”

“You’re a doctor, Mommy. Can’t you give him his medicines?”

“Not these, no.”

“But I want to see him!”

“I know you do, sweetie. I know.”

The doctors were neither optimistic nor pessimistic. They’d never treated this sort of injury before. “We’re doing all we can,” they insisted, “all we know how to do.”

Scully researched spider venom. She learned it could cause muscle cramps and spasms, seizures, chills, fever, vomiting, sweating, severe high blood pressure, all of which Mulder had experienced. Headache, severe stomach, back, and chest pain, stupor, and shock…these symptoms couldn’t be ascertained until he came to. If he came to.

While he fought for his life, the bodies of Jenna and her two daughters were collected and sent to Quantico, where Dr. Alling performed autopsies. Scully had no doubt the M.E. would write a monograph about their peculiarities for which she’d receive significant acclaim. Copies of her report would be included in the X-Files for posterity, cross-referenced under Black Widow, Latrodectus, arachnid, spider, mutant.  

Scully hired a cleaning crew to scrub Isla and Luna’s blood from her basement. A “For Sale” sign went up next door. Scully asked the realtor to look for Katie’s doll Lisa. The next day, the realtor delivered the damaged doll to Scully. 

Scully was stitching the doll’s head back onto its body with Katie coloring nearby when her cellphone rang. It was the hospital. She steeled herself for the possibility of bad news.

“Dr. Scully? This is Dr. Bhandari. Mr. Mulder regained consciousness fifteen minutes ago.”  

Her eyes flooded with tears. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

TWO DAYS LATER

Forty-eight hours, give or take, after Mulder came to, the swelling around his eyes finally eased enough to allow him a glimpse of his hospital room and the nurses who tended to his needs. Scully wasn’t there at his bedside, much to his disappointment. But she’d been a regular visitor, alternately fretting over him and bossing the medical staff around. She’d be here right now, too, if not for Katie, who wasn’t allowed to see him yet. This told him he probably looked as godawful as he felt. He longed to be reunited with his little girl, but not if it meant scaring her to death in the process. 

His throat still burned from the intubation tube that was removed shortly after he came to. His neck remained swollen and tender. A bandage covered some sort of wound beneath his jaw. There were ligature marks circling his wrists and ankles. He felt nauseous, headachy, dazed. 

On the upside, his catheter had been removed and he’d been transported from the ICU to a private room. Things were looking up.

He fidgeted in his bed, trying to relieve a deep ache in his back, which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. At first he thought the too-short hospital bed was to blame but was told bruises blackened his back from the base of his skull to his ass cheeks, the result of being dragged up two flights of stairs, including one with cast iron treads. He couldn’t imagine how Jenna Weber managed it.

He only vaguely remembered what happened in the attic and maybe that was for the best. Yesterday, Scully told him Jenna and the twins were all dead. Katie was doing fine, despite whatever it was she’d witnessed. Scully remained mum on that subject. There’d be plenty of time to discuss it all when he was stronger, she promised.

The fear in her voice told him he’d had one foot in the grave. Maybe both feet. Of course, it wasn't the first time he’d nearly given up the ghost, but it was the first time since he became a family man, which made it more serious in his mind. Maybe hers, too.

Scully had been no more forthcoming about his current physical condition than she was about his near-death experience. When he pushed to be released from the hospital sooner rather than later, she declared it “unwise at this point in your recovery.”

“‘Unwise’ why?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“The doctors are still monitoring you. They had to administer antivenin to counteract the poisons in your system. There could be side effects,” she admitted.

“What sorts of side effects?”

“Maybe none,” she hedged. “No point listing every remote possibility.”

“How about just one?” The word “one” came out as a near-silent whisper.

“I don’t see this conversation being very productive.”

Of course not. Why had he expected anything different?

When he then asked her about the tender, raw areas on his chest, she explained they were erythema.

“Defibrillator burns?” He somehow managed to put a little force behind the question. 

“They’re not serious, Mulder, in and of themselves.” 

“But they mean my heart stopped, right?”

“Briefly.”

“Briefly?” he squeaked.

She ignored his question.

“You’re being awfully evasive, Scully. I don’t like being kept in the dark. You don't need to mollycoddle me.”

“Who uses the word ‘mollycoddle,’ Mulder? What century are you living in?”

“You sound like Agent Somers.” He pouted, but she was unmoved by his pique. 

He later learned from a talkative nurse that Scully had performed CPR on him while waiting for the EMTs to arrive. She’d saved his life.

Once again, he owed her everything. 

Now that he could finally see again, Mulder’s attention flicked from the empty visitors chair to the vacant doorway more often than he’d like to admit. He turned his attention to the IV in his arm and followed the tube up to a saline drip. A cannula looped beneath his nose to provide extra oxygen. A blood pressure cuff periodically squeezed his left bicep and a pulse oximeter weighted his right index finger. Monitors beeped softly somewhere behind his head. He was trapped for now. Not that he felt ready to turn backflips or run a marathon. Maybe Scully was right when she urged him to rest. A nap sounded like a brilliant idea at the moment. He yawned, closed his eyes, and let himself doze.

“Agent Mulder?”

Mulder woke to find Somers standing beside his bed. A quick glance at the wall clock told Mulder he’d been asleep for several hours. It was suddenly 2:30 in the afternoon.

“Junior,” Mulder rasped. He cleared his throat. Tried again. “Pull up a chair.”

“I shouldn’t stay.”

“Why the hell not? You’re a hero, son. You saved my ass. My family’s asses, too.”

“You broke the case, Mulder. You figured out who the killer was.”

“That doesn’t diminish your role.” Mulder pointed his oximeter at Somers. “Who knows how many more people Jenna Weber or her offspring would’ve killed if you hadn’t stopped them.”

“I had some help from your wife.” Somers shrugged. “I found the missing heads.”

“All three?” Mulder searched the buttons on his bed’s hand-held control, finally finding the one that raised him up to a sitting position.  

Somers helped him adjust his pillows. “Actually, there were fourteen.” 

Fourteen? Mulder gave a low whistle, shocked by the number. “Where’d you find them?” 

“In a wheelbarrow in Jenna Weber’s backyard. One of her kids led me there. I think the girl was trying to distract me.”

“From what?”

Somers shrugged again. “I’m not sure. You maybe? Or what was going on at your house?”

“What was going on at my house?”

“Sorry, Mulder, I have orders from your wife not to discuss that with you. And I fully admit, I’m a little afraid of her.”

Mulder chuckled. “You and me both, Junior. She shot me once, you know.”

“Yes, I read the file.” He gave his head a shake. “Do you think there are more creatures like Jenna and the twins?”

“I hope not.” It was possible, maybe even probable that Jenna inherited her mutations from her own mother. Which could mean there were hundreds, maybe thousands more like her. There was no way to know for sure until they learned more about her, specifically what caused her mutation.   

“Remember the strand of hair Detective Reynolds pulled off the Vietnam vet’s hat?” Somers asked. “DNA matched the Weber girls’.”

“So, they were at the scene. Did Scully give you the smilie face pin from his hat?”

“It’s been bagged with all the other evidence. Not that there’s anyone left to prosecute.”

“Welcome to the X-Files, Junior.”   

Overhanging Mulder’s lower legs was a wheeled bed table, topped with a packet of Kleenex, an emesis basin, a pitcher of water, and an empty glass with a bent straw. Mulder reached for the water but fell short. Somers immediately rolled the table closer and filled the glass from the pitcher. Mulder drained it in one go. His throat felt like he’d been apprenticing with a sword swallower. 

“I’ve been wondering about Jenna’s motives,” Somers said, “why she did the things she did.”

“Honestly, I think she was just trying to survive. Feed and protect her family.” Mulder certainly understood the impulse.

“But why target you? She went from killing homeless strangers to kidnapping a married FBI agent who lived next door. Do you think she knew you were hunting her?”

“Maybe.” 

What do you need? he vaguely remembered asking her.

You. To make love to me. To father my babies. Lots of babies. More children than you can imagine.    

“I guess we’ll never know,” Mulder lied, unwilling to unpack his feelings about what happened in the attic just yet.

“And why…why mutilate the victims’ genitals?” Somers winced as he waved a palm at his own lap, then Mulder’s.

Mulder fought the urge to cup his groin. “I….” He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“No theories?”

“None.” None that he wanted to consider right now. He changed the subject by offering Somers his congratulations.

“For what?” Somers looked genuinely confused.

“For being the Agent of Record on your very first X-File involving a mutant. I’m proud of you, son.”    

“Oh, that…yes, well….” Somers ducked his head, dismissing Mulder’s compliment. “I learned from the best.”

“You know it.” Mulder would’ve winked if his eyes hadn’t still been so swollen. “Won’t be long, the wiseasses in the bullpen will be calling you ‘Spooky 2.’”

To Mulder’s surprise, Somers didn’t balk at the idea. “I wouldn’t mind having a nickname.”

“How about Zygote?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” 

Somers refilled Mulder’s glass. “On an unrelated subject, I, uh, broke it off with Olivia…um, Dr. Alling.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I like my job. I’d hate to lose it over some cray cray indiscretion.”

“Smart boy.” Mulder took a sip of water before setting the glass aside.

“I know you and Dr. Scully made it work…an office romance…somehow, but…. How exactly did you make it work?”

“Self-restraint? Delayed gratification? Self gratification?” Mulder leaned back into the pillows. “Sending a dick pic wasn’t so easy back in my day, you know. Polaroid cameras were bulky, hard to aim. You had to wait 30 seconds for the picture to develop. To send it to somebody, you needed an envelope and a stamp, not to mention a USPS mailbox and the woman’s home address. It could take days to arrive. The whole process gave a guy plenty of time to worry and rethink his life’s choices. Hypothetically.”

“Mulder, sometimes talking with you, I feel like I’m listening to Fred Flintstone.”

“I doubt Fred would ever send a dick pic to Wilma. Doesn’t seem she’d be into it. Betty on the other hand—” 

“Am I interrupting something?” Scully asked from the doorway.

“No!” Somers and Mulder answered in unison. Somers had the courtesy to blush.

Scully held Katie in her arms, while Katie, looking shy and uncertain, gripped an enormous bouquet of flowers in her small hands. The blossoms flooded the room with their sweet scent. 

“I was just going,” Somers said.

“Good to see you again, Matthew,” Scully said.

As soon as he was out the door, Scully moved to take his place beside the bed. 

“Matthew?” Mulder asked. “Sounds like you two have become chummy.”

“Killing mutants and saving lives tends to bring people together. As you well know.”

“Could be the answer to world peace.”

“I hope you and Matthew weren’t talking shop. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was just giving the boy some fatherly advice.”

Scully didn’t even try to hide her dubious expression as she set Katie down on the bed beside him.

“These for me?” He took a sniff of her flowers.

Katie nodded and regarded him with solemn eyes. 

“I’ll put them in water.” Scully took the bouquet and arranged them in the pitcher on the rolling table.

“Hey, pipsqueak. I’ve missed you.” Mulder tickled Katie’s chin with his oximeter-tipped finger, hoping to produce a smile.

“I missed you, too.” She continued to scowl. “Daddy, are you going to die?”

“No, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheek. “Do I look that bad?”

“Yes.”

Mulder drew her to him. Immediately, she curled against him, her head on his chest. 

“You smell funny,” she said. Her eyes focused on the needle in his arm. “Does it hurt?” She pointed.

“No.”

Katie’s skeptical frown mirrored Scully’s exactly. Their daughter had inherited his looks but her mother’s disposition. She blinked up at him. “Do your eyes hurt?”

“They’re fine. I’m fine.” He gave her a cuddle. 

Scully returned to Mulder’s side, leaned down, and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

“That’s it? I almost kick the bucket and all I get is a teensy-weensy peck from that pulchritudinous pouty mouth of yours?” 

“‘Pulchritudinous,’ Mulder?”

“It means beautiful.”

“I know what it means.” She checked his chart, as he knew she would. “They’ve got you on some pretty powerful meds.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’re high on painkillers.”

“Maybe so, but I stand by my assessment of your lips.”

“Daddy, look, I lost my tooth!” Katie interrupted them. She leaned back to grin at him — finally — showing a gap in her smile.

“So you did! And I missed it.” It surprised him how much this disappointed him. It was like missing her first word or first step, both of which he’d been lucky enough to witness firsthand.

“The Tooth Fairy gave me twenty dollars!” 

Mulder flashed Scully a “what the fuck” glare.

“Inflation,” she said with a shrug.

Katie peered closely at Mulder’s face, scrutinizing every change as if she still wasn’t quite sure he was the father she once knew. “Daddy, you need to shave.”

“Yes, I do.”

Katie gently patted his cheeks with her palms. “You feel like a porcupine.”

“How do you know what a porcupine feels like?” He thrust his chin into her neck and nuzzled her baby-soft skin. “Does it feel like this?” he asked, rubbing his whiskers against her, while she shrieked with laughter. 

“We should be going,” Scully said, clearly not pleased with their horseplay.

“No!” Katie whined.

“Yes, Daddy needs his rest.” Scully leaned down and gave Mulder a second kiss. A real kiss this time, earnest and intense.

“That’s more like it,” he said when she pulled away. “Pulchritudinous.”

She lifted Katie from the bed and held her on one hip. “We’ll see you later, Mulder. Don’t give the nurses a hard time.”

“Say less.”

“What?”

“Gen Z slang. It means ‘I understand, no further explanation is needed.’”

“Ah.” Scully gave him a disapproving frown. “Please don’t talk like a 20-something. It’s…”

“Cringe? Big yikes? Ick?”

“I was going to say ‘embarrassing.’”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

ONE WEEK LATER
MULDER & SCULLY RESIDENCE

Dressed in his swim trunks, Mulder floated on his back in the pond, while Katie played in the water nearby and Scully reclined on a lounge chair on shore. The oppressive heat had fled the eastern seaboard at last, bringing an end-of-summer feel to the air. Black-eyed Susans, Joe-Pye weed, and cardinalflowers swayed on tall stalks, adding splashes of gold, lavender, and scarlet to the fields surrounding the pond, attracting fritillaries and honeybees and hummingbirds. Cirrocumulus clouds spotted the cobalt sky like popcorn. Katie hummed off key while she splashed. A squirrel chittered from a treetop at the edge of the forest, guarding its territory from interlopers, full of umbrage, a feeling Mulder could appreciate though at the moment didn’t share. 

As usual, this place brought Mulder an overwhelming sense of peace. And a strong feeling of deja vu. Not surprising since he often went here in his mind when he was stressed or tired or treading dangerously close to depression. Years ago, while battling PTSD and Scully’s absence, his therapist suggested he practice a “go to your happy place” technique, not realizing Mulder had been doing just that for decades, ever since Sam’s abduction. His “Boy on the Beach” fantasy had gotten him through a helluva lot of tough times.

This, however, was real. He was in his own backyard, Katie swam within arms reach, and Scully relaxed a mere dozen backstrokes away. She was a vision in her navy and white striped swimsuit.

“Daddy, look!” 

Katie nudged a unicorn float through the water. Her doll Lisa, neatly repaired by Scully, sat astride the inflatable. Katie’s skin was bronzed by a summer outdoors. She’d inherited her father’s complexion, thank the gods of autosomal dominant traits. To think he once worried this child might not carry his genes at all, was sick with worry about it. But now, anyone with eyes could see she was his daughter.

“Lisa looks good as new,” he observed. 

“Yep, Mommy fixed her.”

“She’s an excellent doctor. My favorite.”

Scully smiled at his comment without glancing up from the Toxicon article she was reading: Muscle spasms – A common symptom following theraphosid spider bites.    

Despite his ordeal, Mulder was feeling much improved. The bruises on his back had faded to a kaleidoscope of pale purples and faint yellow-greens, or so he’d been told. The goose egg at the base of his skull was now more the size of a quail egg. It hurt only when he combed his hair. His voice had returned to normal, mostly. But his eyes… He still sported two rather impressive shiners, despite daily cold compresses and Scully’s endless fussing. “Periorbital hematoma is nothing to take lightly,” she warned.    

Katie abandoned Lisa on the unicorn and dog-paddled over to him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Daddy,” she said with a dramatic sigh, flopping her arms over his chest and nearly sinking him.

“Save me?” He righted himself and, using one arm to tread water, kept her afloat with the other. 

“You know, like a hero. Like Agent Somers and Mommy. Like Wonder Woman!” She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “Like you, Daddy.”

Me? he thought. He hadn’t done much, not this time. “You did fine, kiddo.”

“But I didn’t save anyone.” 

“You have years ahead of you to perform heroic acts and I have no doubt you will. But for now, I want you to just be a kid. My kid.” This brought a smile. “You okay after everything that’s happened?”

“I guess.”

“Mommy said you’ve been having nightmares.”

“Uh huh.”

“About Isla and Luna?”

“Sometimes.”

“They can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right?”

“I know. They’re dead,” she said, using the word he’d been avoiding.

“Yes, they are.” He thought it best not to mention how the dead can sometimes be brought back to life. Necromancers, thaumaturges, mages, even Scully possessed such powers. Lucky for him. “You have your very own mutant story to tell now.”

“I do!” She grinned, showing the gap in her teeth. “Want me to tell you my mewdant story before bed tonight, Daddy?”

“I’d love that.”

She pushed away from him and swam off. She’d be fine, he told himself. She was resilient. Strong, like her mother. 

Mulder dove beneath the surface and breaststroked toward the dock, eyes open wide, watching the aquatic world appear to race beneath him. Fingers of sunshine harpooned the water, highlighting filamentous algae while dappling the sandy bottom. Bubbles drifted to the surface like strings of jewels. Naiads and elodea wafted on unseen currents. A frog scuttled out of the mud, creating a fog of silt in its wake. 

Popping up beside the dock, Mulder used the ladder to haul himself out. Water streamed off him, creating a puddle at his feet that rained through the decking. He snagged his towel and dried off before going to Scully.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He spread his damp towel like a magic carpet on the lawn beside her chair and sat, legs outstretched, elbows bracing his upper body. The late summer breeze felt glorious as it dried off his skin. “You want to discuss the case?”

Consensus hummed in her throat. She closed her journal and set it beneath her chaise. “I can’t help but notice how our work endangers Katie.”

“You mean my work.”

“I didn’t want to point fingers.”

“Not to worry, I can blame myself and feel plenty guilty all on my own, thanks.” Mulder flicked a bit of duck weed from his stomach. “Are you asking me to stop? To retire?”

“No. I tried that once. It didn’t go well.”

He took a deep breath and tried to corral his annoyance. “I’ve thought about it, Scully. I have. For Katie’s sake. And yours. But….” He squinted up at the sky. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“I happen to disagree it’s the only thing, but yes, you are good at what you do. Exceptionally.” She touched his shoulder, bringing his attention back to her. “But more than that, you enjoy it. And it’s okay to admit that.”

“I do enjoy it.” He sighed, allowing this truth to sit between them. “But…I don’t ever want to put Katie at risk.”

“To be fair, Mulder, I didn’t pick up on anything strange when I first met Jenna, which also put Katie at risk.”

“No, this isn’t on you.”

“I should’ve been more wary.”

“Jenna gave you no reason to doubt her.”

“Still. I’ve grown rusty. After John Barnett, I promised myself I’d be more vigilant. But I wasn’t…haven’t been. Back in the day, I would never have been so trusting.”

“Did I teach you nothing?” he teased.

She didn’t smile. “Maybe we should be raising Katie to be less trusting, too.”

“Maybe. But there’s a fine line between ‘trust no one’ and ‘paranoia.’” He loved his carefree child, but knew firsthand the world could be a dangerous place. “I don’t want her to think of everyone as a threat, and yet… Maybe some caution wouldn’t be amiss. I’ll talk to her about it.”

“We both will, starting with how to handle bullies.” Her frown deepened. “I should’ve listened to you when you said you felt something was off with Jenna…when she…she…”

“Made advances?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He tagged her elbow. “Maybe it’s a sign of growth that you no longer question everyone you meet like a suspect, case every joint, reach for your weapon at the slightest provocation. Maybe this is the life you’re supposed to be living now. Secure and happy. Isn’t that better for Katie? For you? For us? You wanted to leave the darkness behind and you have. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Except it leaves you doing all the heavy lifting. That’s not fair.” Her fingers skated along his jaw and settled on his shoulder. “Katie’s safety and yours…. You were…. It was….” She struggled to continue. “You have no idea how worried I was.”

“Mm.”

“I keep asking myself how many times I can go through it.”

The pain in her expression pierced his heart, moving him to cover her hand with his own. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Everyone has a breaking point, Mulder.”

He thought again about Jenna, how powerless he’d felt in her attic, totally at her mercy. The way she toyed with him had exposed one of his deepest fears: not being able to protect Katie and Scully from threats like her.

“Katie told me she was hoping to be the hero in all this.” He plucked a blade of grass from the lawn and stuck it between his teeth. “I know how she feels. Because I…I let you both down.” 

“Mulder, you weren't responsible for Jenna Weber moving in next door. That was nothing but a coincidence.”

“The most overused word in the English language.”

“I’ve heard your thoughts on the subject before.” She shaded her eyes to peer at him, her gaze earnest and kind. “It was you who figured out what Jenna was, what her daughters were.”

“Too late.”

“Not too late. We’re alive, aren't we?” She patted his arm. “You’re the most heroic man I’ve ever met. You want me to list all the times you saved my life? Katie’s life? Others? It’s a long list, Mulder. A very long list.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments.”

“Then what? What’s this about?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’m just feeling my age. I wonder…worry…I may be getting too old for this. And if I mess up, I’ll end up getting you or Katie hurt. Or worse.”

“So what’s the solution? Quit your job, stay home and watch us every minute?”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” He smiled at her.

“You’d go crazy. I’d go crazy.”

“You could work and I could stay home.”

She considered his words. “If that’s what you really want, we could do that. But I suggest you wait a bit before announcing your retirement plans to Skinner. See if you still feel the same in a week or two, or a month or two, or however long it takes for you to be sure.”

He nodded.

“Mulder, Matthew told me what he saw in Jenna’s attic. Before he shot her. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I….” The law would describe what transpired in that attic as attempted sexual assault. But jurisprudence rarely accounted for mutants, aliens, or the paranormal. How do you prosecute something that’s not categorized as human? Legal issues aside, how can you place blame on something that follows a different genetic blueprint? Are the only choices to dismiss its behavior as impossible or, conversely, put it down like a rabid dog? Jenna never asked to be born the thing she was. Yet, he knew how he felt in that attic. Like a victim of a crime, not of natural selection. “Jenna’s dead, so does it matter?”

“You tell me.”

“Maybe after I’ve had more time to process it.” He tossed his blade of grass to the ground.

Out in the pond, Katie climbed the ladder to the dock. She ignored her towel and ran to Mulder and Scully, where she hurled herself into Mulder’s lap. 

“Hey, you’re all wet!” he complained with mock exasperation. 

She giggled and rolled, clearly trying to get him as wet as possible. He pretended to wrestle her off while actually hugging her more tightly to him, which made her chortle all the more.

“'Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge,’” he quoted Paul Gauguin and stood, hauling Katie up with him, which made her shriek with delight. 

He carried her like a football tucked in a quarterback’s arm as he jogged to the end of the dock. “Hold your breath!” he warned, before he cannonballed into the water with her. 

She was laughing and sputtering when he pushed her back to the surface. She clung to his neck while he buoyed her in the crook of one arm. 

“So, when are you and Mommy going to get another baby?” she asked, back to that subject.

He swept a rope of wet hair from her eyes. “That’s something Mommy and I will need to discuss.”

“Okay. But tell her it’s a good idea because I want a sister!” She shouted the last part.

She kicked away from him to rejoin Lisa on the unicorn. 

Mulder returned to Scully and stood beside her chaise while toweling water from his ear.

“Um, Scully—?”

“I heard her.”

“So, what do you say? Do you want to try for another child?”

“Mulder, I’m a 60-year-old woman. Even if I could have another baby, I’d be almost 80 by the time she or he graduated from high school.”

“You don’t think our kid would be smart enough to skip a few grades and graduate early?”

“Mulder.”

He crouched beside her, towel slung over his shoulders. “We could always adopt an older child.”

“We could. Or we could just get a dog.”

“God, no.”

“Mulder, having another child so that Katie has a playmate seems an extremely ill-considered reason. She’ll be in school soon where she’ll meet lots of kids and make lots of friends.”

“True, but we wouldn’t necessarily be having a child just for her. What about you, Scully? And me?”

She bit her lip, considering. “I like our family just the way it is, Mulder,” she said at last. “Correction, I love it. Don’t you feel that way, too?”

“I think—” 

“I found a pollywog!” Katie called out from the shallows, her excitement obvious. She held out her cupped hands. “Wanna see?”

“Put it back, sweetie,” Scully hollered to her. “It can’t live out of the water until it becomes a frog.”

“Oh. Right.” Katie stared at her palms. “Okay.” She released it and watched it swim away, then climbed the bank with seeming purpose. “Mommy, why do only girls have babies?” she shouted as she walked toward them. 

“That’s my cue to am-scray, Scully.” Mulder rose to his feet. “I’ll leave you to explain the finer points of the birds, the bees, and the Mulder babies.”

“Birds do it, bees do it, and even Oxford educated Fibbies do it?”

“Yes, but please don’t tell her that. I don’t want her looking at me strangely after this little mother-daughter talk of yours.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all in general terms.”

“Thank you. Good luck.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Coward,” Scully whispered into his ear as Katie climbed onto her lap.

Mulder returned to the dock while Katie and Scully began their chat. A comfortable breeze ruffled the water. He dropped his towel by the ladder before diving headfirst into the pond. Several fish darted out of his way. A striped turtle paddled underwater into the weeds. Mulder surfaced at the pond’s midpoint and rolled onto his back to float. He couldn’t hear Scully and Katie words with his ears half-submerged, but could see they were deep into their conversation. Scully’s expression was calm and loving. Katie’s emotions were more varied, transforming from curious to awestruck to disgusted and back to curious. 

His baby girl was growing up. Just this past week, she’d lost her first tooth, asked where babies came from, and learned that being a hero isn’t as easy as the movies make it seem. But he hadn’t been lying when he told her he believed she’d be a hero some day. She was too much like her mother to shy away from trouble. She’d right plenty of wrongs, he was certain.

You’re a lucky man, Fox Mulder, he thought as he drifted beneath the wide, azure sky. He’d come a long way from the scared, lonely 12-year-old boy who lost his sister and watched his parents’ marriage crumble. Who missed out on fatherhood with William. 

Somehow, he’d stumbled into this unexpected but marvelous circumstance, a life he enjoyed, a contented life, a life full of love. He was part of a family again. A husband. A father. For the first time in decades, he was exactly where he wanted to be.  

As for retiring, leaving the Bureau and the X-Files, he’d wait and see. Right now, he was in no hurry to change a thing. 

THE END

(Posted March 20, 2025)

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