TITLE:  Ersatz Promises (6/8)
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 6


I'm less than halfway back to D.C. and feel like if I close my 
eyes, I could sleep for a year.  I should pull the car over, but 
I'm anxious to get home.  The exhaustion is one of totality; 
every limb of my body aches for rest.  I need to be back in my 
own apartment, my own bed.

I fled Doylestown as soon as it became apparent that the 
investigation into the theft of Rebecca Turner's body was going 
nowhere.  Mr. Turner was distraught, the cops had no leads, and 
it was all I could do to keep down the dry toast I'd had for 
breakfast.  As I expected, the people who'd taken her body left 
no fingerprints, no evidence, no nothing.  They came and took her 
just like they took Emily, denying Mr. Turner the chance to bury 
his own child.  It is as if she never existed, except in the 
memory of her poor father who will probably never comprehend the 
real crime that has been committed.

Meanwhile, I must wonder what will happen to me and this child 
I'm carrying.  Is it destined to have never existed?  I won't 
allow that to happen.  I want to talk to Mulder, but I alternate 
between dread about what he's found and anticipation that he will 
have better news than I do.  I know there should be no hope left.  
Logically, I know the questions that matter most have already 
been answered.  Still, I refuse to let go entirely until that is 
the only choice I have left.

It is time to do what I do best.  I need the evidence of test 
results and medical facts.  Despite all I've seen, the love I try 
not to feel for this child overwhelms what I have witnessed.  In 
some ways, this is the hardest thing I've ever been asked to 
believe.  I have to go toward what I can trust.  Science.

I've been avoiding the thought of tests.  After all, there's no 
way I could go to an OB/GYN and simply request an amniocentesis.  
God only knows how I'd explain whatever they find.  I have to run 
the tests myself, starting with a full blood workup and a DNA 
profile.  There's only one place I can go for help.

***

It takes forever for all the locks to slide back.  When the door 
finally opens, it is Byers who greets me.

"Agent Scully?"  He sounds surprised.  "It's Agent Scully!" he 
turns to yell inside.  Within a few seconds, both Langly and 
Frohike emerge from their lair.  The three of them stand there 
looking at me like I've got some sort of horn growing out of my 
head.  They're paranoid as hell and they're hiding something.

"Well, are you going to invite me in, or do we have to have this 
conversation out here where anyone could be watching?"  Furtive 
eyes shift past me and scan furiously.  The three of them 
practically trip over each other in their hurry to get out of my 
way.

Before I've stepped over the threshold, I've already decided that 
this isn't the time for polite conversation.  I cut to the chase.  
"Look, I need your help, and I need you to be discrete, no matter 
what I ask.  No questions.  Can you do that?"

"Sure, whatever you want," says Langly while he uncomfortably 
shifts from foot to foot.  It's amazing these men can keep a 
secret about anything.  Maybe they've heard from Mulder.  I 
haven't been able to get in touch with him since I found out 
about Rebecca's death.  His cell phone has been out of service.  
Over the years, I've conditioned myself not to worry about that, 
but this time I can't help myself.  This "case" is sinister, and 
it's personal.

"Agent Scully, you should sit down."  Frohike suddenly steps 
forward to pull up a chair for me, then grabs my elbow as I move 
toward it, helping me to sit.  The sudden gentlemanliness 
confuses me.  With a swoop of his arm, he sends a pile of 
newspapers flying off a wooden crate, which he then pulls in 
front of me.  "Here, put your feet up."

"Can we get you a glass of water?" Byers asks, looking at me with 
what could only be construed as sympathy.

"Or milk?" chimes in Frohike.

Oh God, they know.  No wonder they've been acting weirder than 
usual.  The three of them stand in front of me, scrutinizing me 
carefully as if I'm about to give birth right here and now.  I 
have no doubt that if I did, it would end up the lead story in 
their next issue.

"Yes, a glass of milk would be nice," I say, flashing my best 
smile at Frohike, who swallows hard with my overture.  I want to 
get Byers alone.  He's definitely the weak cog in this machinery 
of paranoid secrets, and it looks like he's sweating bullets at 
the moment.

"And a pillow?  For my back?" I direct toward Langly.  For a 
bunch of paranoiacs, they sure are easily manipulated.  Langly 
and Frohike run off to do my bidding, leaving me, as I'd hoped, 
with Byers, who is fiddling with his tie.

I jump up, getting right in his face.  "Okay, Byers.  Spill it. 
What's going on?  What have you heard from Mulder?  You 
understand that I deserve to know what's going on, right?  
There's a lot at stake here, more than just me and Mulder."  I 
wave down in the direction of my belly.  Byers follows my hand, 
stares at me a moment, takes a deep breath, then gives me the 
party line.

"I don't know."  I can see the struggle on his face. 

"Byers!"

He breaks easy.  "We found a link between Dr. Wright and Dr. 
Scanlon.  Mulder went after Scanlon."

"What?"  The name feels like a slap across the face, the tamped-
down nausea getting the best of me once again.  Scanlon?  The one 
who killed Penny Northern?  He's in on this?

As the news sinks in, Frohike returns.  He bears a large glass of 
milk balanced on a clipboard.  "Byers!  What the hell are you 
doing?  She needs to be sitting."  Frohike sets down the 
makeshift tray and comes over to me, gently taking my arm and 
guiding me to the chair again.  Langly arrives with the requested 
pillow, gingerly placing it behind me as I begin to sit.

"Agent Scully?  Are you okay?"  Frohike looks panicked.  "Sit 
down.  You don't look so good.  Byers, what the hell did you do 
to her?"  He slaps Byers on the arm.

By the time I've hit the chair again, the shock has worn off and 
the anger is setting in.  "Can I get you a cold washcloth or 
something?" Frohike's face looms before me, the concern etched 
across his features.  "Do you need a doctor?"

I feel like I'm going to vomit, which I'm pretty sure would send 
poor Frohike into a fit of panic.  I swallow down the rising 
disgust.  I can't believe it's Scanlon.

Time to take action.  "Frohike, cut the crap.  Where's Mulder?  
What has he found?"

Frohike picks up a newspaper from the floor and begins fanning 
me.  "We don't know where he is exactly.  I'm sure he'll call you 
as soon as he can."

I reach out and stop Frohike's fanning because it's making me 
feel seasick.  "What has he told you?"

"Nothing," the three of them chime together.

"We found out where Scanlon disappeared to," Byers adds without 
prompting, and the other two glare at him.  "Mulder went after 
him, but we haven't heard from him since he left."

I nod and take a deep breath to try to calm the thoughts racing 
through my head.  So much for the optimism I'd felt about what 
Mulder might find.  His news will be no better than my own, 
perhaps worse.  If Scanlon is involved, there can't be much left 
to hope for.

I take a moment to pull together my thoughts, while the Gunmen 
watch me carefully for signs of impending childbirth.

"Okay, I need your help," I finally say, and they simultaneously 
look relieved.  "I need a lab or a doctor who will run some blood 
tests confidentially, with the results released only to you or to 
me.  Can you help me with that?"

Frohike nods furiously while Langly speaks.  "Uh, yeah, we can 
probably pull that together.  Not until morning, though."

"That's fine."  I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like 
to get a good night's sleep.

***

When I arrive home, my answering machine light is blinking loudly 
in the darkness, echoing the pounding in my head.  I can barely 
find the energy to kick off my shoes and remove my coat before I 
hit play.

"Scully, it's me.  I, uh, I was hoping you'd be back by now... 
I'm just checking in.  I'll, uh, I'll try and call again later."

There's a pause and I can hear his breathing on the other end.  
"Hey, Scully?"  His voice falls off into silence.  He sounds as 
exhausted and drained as I am.  "Take care of yourself, okay?"

The electronic voice tells me I missed Mulder's call by fifteen 
minutes.  I'm too tired to wonder about his words, too tired to 
worry.  I just want to sleep.

I stumble to the bedroom and fall into bed without changing my 
clothes.  The throbbing in my head is so painful, it beats 
against my closed eyelids.  I try to concentrate instead on the 
rippling in my womb and wonder how much longer I will get to feel 
this life inside of me.

I'm startled by the phone ringing, and I flinch in pain at the 
sudden noise.  I snatch up the receiver immediately, though I 
know it won't be Mulder.

It's Langly.  "Agent Scully?  I think we've gotten your ... 
request taken care of.  We have a friend who's a doctor.  Well, 
he's not technically a doctor anymore."  I make a mental note to 
never ask what the hell he did to lose his license.  "Anyway, he 
works in a lab here in D.C.  He can run some tests for you on the 
side.  We've worked with him before.  He's entirely trustworthy."

The pounding between my temples subsides a little.  At last, 
something I can analyze and dissect.  "Great, when?"

"Well, if you can meet us here tomorrow, we can make the 
arrangements.  Afternoon sometime?"

"No, in the morning," I reply.  "I can't wait any longer."

That is the one thing of which I've suddenly become sure.  I 
can't wait any longer.  I need to know what this thing is, and I 
need to know now.  If it's going to kill me, I at least want to 
know what it is.  And if there's anything I can do to save it.


*****

End 6/8