TITLE:  Ersatz Promises (4/8)
AUTHORS:  Susanne Barringer and Suzanne Schramm
EMAIL:  sbarringer@usa.net; sister_suze@yahoo.com
Info and disclaimers in part 1.

Missing chapters available at 
http://www.geocities.com/s_barringer/ersatz.html


~~~~~~~~~~~~


CHAPTER 4


I nearly called Scully several times before the flight left for 
St. Louis.  I stopped myself each time because it was early and I 
didn't want to wake her.  I knew the Gunmen would tell her I had 
left when they contacted her later.  Mostly I just wanted to hear 
her voice.  By the time I reached Columbia, Missouri, it was past 
eleven o'clock Washington time.  I called, but got only her voice 
mail.  With no news to give her, I hung up instead.

Now, sitting in the parking lot of HealthQuest, the need to hear 
her voice returns.  I dial her cell phone and get her voice mail 
again.  My fingers drum on the wheel, hating this waiting game.  
Usually stake-outs are less tedious since I have Scully along to 
break up the boredom.  I know I shouldn't worry about her.  She 
can take care of herself.  Hell, I wouldn't be alive if she 
wasn't around to take care of me, but I still feel cold dread in 
the pit of my stomach.  Why isn't she answering her cell?  She 
could be on a plane or in a hospital, but both of those 
possibilities present a terrifying
picture.  Is she hurt?  Leaving in a hurry?

I try her again, the fear gnawing at me when she doesn't answer.

"Where are you, Scully?" I ask the steering wheel.  I check my 
watch, it's nearly 7:30 p.m.  There was a steady exit of people 
over two hours ago, but Scanlon/Wilder wasn't one of them.  
Perhaps I missed him.  Maybe he didn't come in to work today.  I 
bounce my leg for a minute or so before deciding it's time to 
check out the building.  I could get lucky and the bastard is 
working late.

The front entrance is still open.  Far off down the cold marble 
corridor there is a janitor buffing the floor.  A directory by 
the elevator tells me that Dr. Kevin Wilder has an office on the 
fourth floor.  Inside the elevator, the button for the fourth 
floor won't light when I push it.  In fact, none of the buttons 
work.  There is a keyhole at the top of the panel and I realize 
that, minus a passkey, I'm not going anywhere.

I try the door for the stairs.  It, too, is locked.  A keypad at 
the side of the door waits for a code from me.  I give the door 
one more tug, just for good measure.

"Hey!"  The janitor has noticed me now.  "The building is closed, 
you'll have to come back tomorrow."

I nod at him and duck out the door.


*****


It isn't hard to find Mr. Turner.  As soon as I turn the corner 
of the hospital corridor I see him, dressed in a green hospital 
gown and peering listlessly through the window at his child.

"Mr. Turner?"  He slowly turns to look at me, his face a blank.

"I'm Agent Scully.  We spoke on the phone."  I reach out to shake 
his hand, but he doesn't seem to notice.  His attention turns 
back toward the NICU.

I step up next to him.  "Which one is your daughter?" I ask, not 
sure I really want to know.

He points straight ahead, his finger pushing against the glass.  
"That's Rebecca Leigh," he says softly.  "The one in the center 
incubator."

I follow the line of his finger to see the baby, the tiniest one 
in the room, hardly bigger than my hand.  She is surrounded by 
wires and monitors, every function controlled by machines.

"What's her prognosis?" I ask, fighting back the sudden wave of 
hopelessness that has enveloped me.

He simply shakes his head in the negative, then presses his palm 
flat against the window.  "I haven't even been able to hold her," 
he says, his voice trembling.  "My wife was only 27 weeks along 
when she..."  He clears his throat.  "Rebecca's lungs aren't 
developed and she's got some blood defect they can't even 
explain.  She's already had three transfusions, but it hasn't 
done any good.  The doctors say it's a miracle she's lived this 
long.  Some miracle, huh?"  He shrugs his shoulders, strokes the 
glass with his fingers, then turns to face me.  I have trouble 
meeting his eyes.

"What did you want to see me about, Agent Scully?"

"I wanted to ask you a few questions about your wife.  I know 
this is difficult, but it's important that I find out exactly 
what happened.  Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

He nods grimly.  "I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to 
you.  I don't like to leave her."  He leans his head toward the 
NICU.

"Of course."  He seems dazed, and I'm hoping that he won't think 
too much and wonder why the F.B.I. is investigating a medical 
matter.  "Can you tell me what happened to your wife?"

He looks at me with a flat expression again.  "I woke up and she 
was having a seizure.  I called an ambulance.  She had a massive 
stroke on the way to the hospital, but they managed to keep her 
alive long enough to save the baby."  His recitation is rote, as 
if he's told the story a hundred times already.

"I'm sorry.  Was she having any problems with her pregnancy, or 
had she had any seizures before?"

"I answered all this at the E.R."  He sighs with frustration.

"I know, and I'm sorry.  It would just be helpful to get the 
story straight from you."

He gives me a pained look before continuing.  "I had a feeling 
something was wrong with the pregnancy.  She was so tired and so 
sick all the time.  It didn't seem normal.  She kept trying to 
reassure me it was just morning sickness, but it didn't seem 
right.  She'd never had any seizures or anything, though, before 
that night."

He steps away from me and goes to sit on a bench at the end of 
the corridor.  I follow and sit next to him.

"Mr. Turner, this might sound strange, but was your wife ever 
abducted?"  I suddenly wish desperately that Mulder was here to 
handle this part of the questioning.  It's hardly my area of 
expertise.  Just how does one ask such a thing, anyway?

His head snaps up to look at me.  "Abducted?"

I can't bring myself to follow up in Mulder fashion, so I go my 
own route.  "Was there ever a period of time when she 
disappeared, or she couldn't remember a big chunk of time?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy and now I know how Mulder feels.  
Then he surprises me.  "How did you know that?"

"Like I said, I'm looking into some similar cases..."

"How did you know that?"  He jumps to his feet and I see the 
panic rising.  "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

I rise to try and calm him.  "Like I said, I'm with the F.B.I."  
I reach into my jacket pocket to pull out my badge.  "It's okay.  
There are others like her."

His eyes are wide.  "What do you mean, others like her?"

"Other women who have been taken, who can't explain where they 
were for days or months.  I'm trying to find out the connection."

He shakes his head in disbelief.  "She never told anyone.  It 
took her years to even tell me about it.  It was before I met 
her, when she was nineteen.  She said she was kidnapped, but she 
didn't remember any of it.  All she knows is that she was gone 
for two months, and when she came back she felt different."  He 
looks past me at the blank walls of the corridor.  "She used to 
do a lot of reading about UFOs and alien abductions.  I think 
that's what she thought happened, but she would never admit it."  
His tears come then, flowing steadily over his cheeks.

I reach out and touch his arm.  "I'm sorry to bring it up, but I 
do think there's some kind of connection between that and your 
wife's death, and maybe her pregnancy."

"She was artificially inseminated," he says, as if that explains 
everything.

"Excuse me?"

"We tried for four years to get pregnant and couldn't, so she was 
artificially inseminated."

The wall in front of me blurs, and I close my eyes to keep from 
getting dizzy.  "Dr. Wright performed the procedure?"

"Yes."


*****


I'm about to give up as the phone rings for the sixth time, but 
Scully picks up.

"Scully."  Her voice is clear, even from this far away.

"Hey Scully, it's me.  Where are you?"

"Doylestown, Mulder.  Where are you?"  Her voice loses some of 
its clarity, becoming strained.  I close my eyes, feeling a flash 
of unease.  Is something wrong?

"Columbia, Missouri."

There is a moment of silence and then she clears her throat.  
"For how long?"

"I'm not sure.  The Gunmen found where your records were sent; 
now I'm working on a way to get inside."

Silence again.  Cold sweat starts at the base of my neck.

"Scully?  What did you find in Doylestown?"

"They were all pregnant, Mulder.  All the other names in that 
directory?  They've all died from complications of pregnancy."

God, God, God.  I take a couple of deep breaths, feeling the 
floor sway beneath me.  "How?"  I sit on the edge of the bed.  
"How far along were they?"

"Six or seven months."  Her voice fades, and then she seems to 
reassert herself.  "One of them delivered a premature girl - 
she's on a ventilator and she has a rare blood group 
incompatibility that isn't responding to treatment.  They've 
transfused her several times, but..."  Her voice trails off and I 
wince.

"I talked with her husband," she starts again.  "I asked him if 
his wife had ever reported missing time or talked about being an 
abductee."

I sit up straighter, both proud and amazed that Scully would go 
that far out on a limb.

"She had, Mulder.  Marie Turner wasn't a member of MUFON, but the 
other six women all were.  All of them were treated for 
infertility at the Doylestown Clinic by Dr. Wright."

I look at the threadbare carpet on the motel room floor.  "Are 
you staying on in Doylestown?"

"For now."  She sounds far away again.

I nod, even though I know she can't see me.  "I don't know how 
long I'm going to be here.  Hopefully only another day or so.  Do 
you want me to meet up with you there, Scully?"

"Call me first, just in case."

"Hey, Scully?"  I'm holding the phone so tightly my fingers are 
starting to ache.  "If you need anything, call me first, okay?"

"Okay."  It's barely above a whisper, but I think maybe she 
smiles.


*****

End 4/8