
Invocation

AS8X04 (Originally 8X06)

Originally written by: David Amann

Rewritten by: Jo

August, 1990

Dexter, Oklahoma

In the bright afternoon sunlight, Lisa Underwood cranes
her neck to look past the shoulder of the mother she's
speaking with to see her seven-year old son on the swings,
smiling broadly. The school carnival is a roaring success.
The line of children waiting to ride the ponies tethered to a
five-pointed merry-go-round goes on forever, but her Billy
arrived early and got to ride the ponies first, so now he
plays while the other children wait in line. The scene is
one of barely-controlled chaos, children darting around,
adults keeping watch from a comfortable distance. Even
some teenagers from the local high school have shown up
to see what there is to see.

Nearby, a dark-haired teenage boy leans against a wall,
watching the commotion.

Carnival music plays from the trailer. The tune sounds
sad, its minor key echoing mournfully from the sub-
standard amplifier. It doesn't sound like any calliope
music Lisa has ever heard. More like a dirge. Lisa shivers
in the unusually cool breeze, wrapping her arms around
her heavily pregnant belly.

"Mom, watch me!" Billy calls from the swings, and Lisa
again looks in his direction as he pumps his legs madly
back and forth, generating the momentum to swing higher
and higher. Sitting on the swing, his downy blond hair
blowing in the wind created by his own motion, his cheeks
flushed and a broad, gap-toothed smile on his face, he
looks utterly angelic, and Lisa can't help but smile with
him.

"Mom, you're not watching!" he calls again, and Lisa
stands on her tip-toes, trying to peer past the large group
of adults escorting their children away from the pony-go-
round that has blocked her view of her son.

The breeze kicks up again, ruffling her hair. Then the
group passes, and she once more has a clear view of her
son.

Or should have. The swing floats lazily--and emptily--into
the air.

"Billy?" Lisa calls cautiously, glancing around the crowd to
see where he has gone. She begins to walk slowly toward
the swing as it sways backward, carried by its own
momentum.

"BILLY!" she cries again, fear beginning to color her tone.
Her eyes frantically search the playground, but she cannot
see her son anywhere nearby.

The empty swing slows to a rest.

10 years later
October 16th, 2000
3:30 p.m.

Lisa Underwood pauses in her daily trek up the steps to
the elementary school when she sees the group of teachers
and faculty milling at the edge of the playground. She
never lets her younger son, the one born just weeks after
Billy's disappearance, walk home alone. Because she can't
forget the horror of Billy vanishing out from under her, the
heartbreaking determination to find him, the irrevocable
guilt of feeling that if she had just watched him a little
more closely, it would never have happened.

As usual, Josh is there, on the steps, to greet her. His
typical bright and cheery smile, however, is not. Today, a
frown furrows his young face. He looks confused,
concerned. Lisa quickens her pace until she is beside her
son, then crouches down to put herself at eye level with
him.

Her face mirrors his worried expression. "Honey? What is
it? Is something wrong?"

Josh glances at the group on the playground. "They're
looking for you. Go look, Mom."

Lisa stands, focusing her eyes on the cluster of adults, who
look oddly out of place in the context of a playground. She
becomes aware of a strange feeling in the pit of her
stomach, and suddenly--inexplicably--she is afraid. And
she cannot allow her son to sense it, although she fears he
already has.

She forces a smile and ruffles her son's hair in an attempt
to reassure him--and herself. "Wait for me here, Josh, okay?
Just stay right here. I'll be back in a second."

Leaving her son, Lisa walks slowly towards the group of
teachers at the edge of the playground. The atmosphere is
so thick it is tangible, even to an outsider. And although
she can't understand it, she knows for certain that she is the
focus of the anticipation.

Lisa feels her heart beat faster as the principal, Mrs.
Heitmeyer, comes up to greet her with a bewildered
expression. The too-intense gaze of the rest of the group
pricks at her skin like needles.

"Mrs. Underwood, we tried to call you," Mrs. Heitmeyer
says. "You must've already left."

"What is everyone staring at? What is going on?" The
words are barely a whisper.

"I don't even know what to say, Mrs. Underwood. I've
already called the police. I think you need to see for
yourself," the principal stammers.

"The police? I don't understand--is Josh all right? Did
something happen?"

"Please, Mrs. Underwood... he's over on the swings."

"Josh?" she glances quickly at her worried son who is quite
visibly standing on the steps behind her.

"No," Mrs. Heitmeyer answers in an urgent whisper.
"Billy."

"Bill--Billy?" Lisa blinks rapidly in astonishment. The
crowd of teachers parts, revealing a small blonde child
sitting on the swing, swaying softly. He looks exactly the
way her son had looked.

On the day of his disappearance.

Ten years ago.

Lisa's mouth tightens in anger just a moment later. "Is this
someone's idea of a joke? A sick, perverted joke?"

"No, Mrs. Underwood, please... we don't know how to
explain it. But I looked at the last school picture we had on
file for Billy, and it's the same boy. Look at the backpack..."

Lisa looks closer at the boy on the swings, hope warring
with confusion on her face. The clothes are the same. The
backpack lying on the ground is the same. "It can't be..."
she whispers aloud.

Then the boy looks up, his face blank, and Lisa's knees
give out.

A male teacher standing behind her quickly moves
forward to catch her by the upper arms, just as her weight
collapses. After a few stunned moments, her head clears,
and she manages to get her legs under her again. The
teacher attempts to guide her to a nearby bench, but she
pulls her arms free and staggers to the swings, falling to
her knees in the dirt in front of the child.

"Billy?" Lisa whispers, her voice trembling and tears
spilling over her lashes as she reaches out and touches the
soft skin of the child's face.

He blinks at her. His face is still expressionless, his pale
blue eyes unrecognizing.

"Billy. Oh, my beautiful boy..." She leans forward and
kisses his cheek, drawing him into her arms. He hangs
there in her embrace, not moving away, but not hugging
her back. He holds his head up rather than resting it on her
shoulder, where it belongs.

November 14th
Mercy General Hospital
9:03 a.m.

For all that she had scoffed at such cases in previous years,
Scully now only had to hear the word 'abduction' to fly out
to the other end of the country. Add to that the word
'returned,' and the draw is inevitable.

She is in a stark hospital room, clinically efficient,
furnished with only a table, two chairs, and a bed in the
corner. The mirrors on the wall are standard one-way
observation glass, allowing those in the next room to
witness the actions and investigations taking place.

"We're almost done here, sweetie. I'm just going to shine
this light in your eyes, okay?" she says gently. The boy
makes no response. He has been cooperative so far in
allowing her to conduct the physical examination, but he
has yet to speak or show any sign of emotion.

As she peers into his eyes, checking his pupillary
response, Scully tries to maintain a calm exterior for the
benefit of both the child in front of her and those on the
other side of the mirror but cannot quite hide the fact that
she is mystified. Hours of testing, and she is still no closer
to understanding what has happened to him, why he did
not seem to have aged since his disappearance.

She offers a tired smile to the stoic child. "You're doing
great. See? Nothing to it." Putting down the light, she takes
a deep breath, knowing the next thing she must check for.

"Can you bend your head for me?" she asks, almost
hesitantly, and exerts a gentle pressure on the boy's head
to lower it. Brushing the hair away, she looks intently at
his neck, skimming her fingers lightly across his skin. She
gives a small, silent sigh of relief, although her face shows
disappointment, when she finds nothing unusual.

"Find what you're looking for?"

Scully startles and jerks upward at the unexpected voice,
and is surprised to discover that Doggett has entered the
room. She must have been so lost in her efforts to come up
with some kind of answer to the questions presented by
the discovery of this child, she failed to even hear the door
open. A flash of guilt passes over her face as she realizes
what he must have seen her do, and she quickly replaces it
with determination.

"And how do you know what I'm looking for, Agent
Doggett?" she asks, stepping away from the boy, who
continues to sit silently, unfazed by the introduction of a
new person to the situation. She doesn't quite know why
his stillness is so unnerving.

"I read the X-Files case reports, Agent Scully, while you
were in the hospital after Arizona. I know about the whole
'chip in the back of the neck' thing. And I don't think I need
to tell you just what the Deputy Director's reaction is going
to be if he finds out we're out here because you think this
is a possible alien abduction case."

"Then would you like to take a crack at explaining how a
seven-year-old boy can disappear for ten years and return
unaged? In my medical opinion, that's a biological
impossibility. Yet that appears to be what's happened
here."

"The doctors here wouldn't agree with you. They've
diagnosed it as 'failure to thrive,' most likely due to
traumatic conditions wherever he's been kept all this
time."

"No," Scully shakes her head adamantly. "I know the
medical condition they're referring to, and that's not it.
Failure to thrive is almost always associated with organ
deformities, malnutrition, hormonal deficiencies, anemia,
neural damage, or any other number of factors. It's marked
by abnormally SLOW change, not a complete LACK of
change. As far as I can tell, Billy Underwood is in perfect
health--for a seven-year-old. There is no medical
explanation for this kind of arrested development."

"Is it any less believable than trying to tell those parents
that their son was abducted by aliens? Look, Agent
Scully--I know where you want to go with this. I know you
want to find something here that's going to lead us to
Agent Mulder."

Scully looks away, her expression tense and unhappy.
"You know, Agent Mulder asked me a question once... the
very first time I met him, as a matter of fact. He said, 'When
convention and science offer us no answers, might we not
finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?'"

Her eyes slowly fall closed as she takes a deep, steadying
breath. She knows exactly how Doggett will react to that
statement, because she can remember exactly how she
reacted to hearing Mulder say it, seven years ago. And
although sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago, she now
remembers it like it was yesterday, and for just a moment,
she allows herself to linger on the bittersweet memory of
that single day -- the nucleus of all that has happened
since.

Scully opens her eyes and exhales slowly, taking both
actions in an attempt to force her mind to return to the
present. She needs to deal with the effect of the words she
uttered a few moments ago, and she wants to do so calmly
and coherently.

She also must ignore the expression she knows she will
see in his face, the same expression she herself has
adopted so often in the past: half skepticism, half scorn.

She turns around and settles her gaze directly into his
before she begins to speak."All I'm trying to do here, Agent
Doggett, is figure out what's happened to this little boy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have an examination to
complete."

She stares at him pointedly, daring him to counter her, but
Doggett doesn't take the bait. He holds her gaze for one
more moment, as though making one last effort to read
her, but to no avail. His eyes settle briefly on the boy, but
once again, he gets nothing.

Sensing that he has lost this round, Doggett turns and
walks out of the room, pulling the door closed behind
him. Three strides later, he is back in the witness room,
where the local Sheriff, a man named Sanchez, is waiting
for him. The Sheriff's expression clearly reveals that
although he did in fact witness the agents' brief tte--tte
through the one-way mirror, he'd be just as happy to
pretend that he hadn't heard a word.

"He won't speak?" asks Doggett.

"No," Sanchez replies. "Not even to his parents."

"Are they here, the parents?"

"They've been here, around the clock. I took his prints... It's
him. Boy should be a teenager by now, but look at him.
Explain to me how that can be."

"I can't say, Sheriff. I'm just here to find out who took him."
Doggett peers through the glass at the mysterious child.
The boy's golden head, so like his own son's, catches his
eye, and for a moment, he is transported back into the past.
For a moment it is his own son, a small voice on the end of
a telephone line.

"Daddy, I'm scared. Daddy?"

Then an older voice comes on the line, a voice Doggett is
sure he recognizes, even though he is never able to prove
it. "You killed someone I loved, Doggett. Now I've got
your son. Say goodbye."

The raid. A bank robbery gone bad. Bob Harvey, tall,
unkempt, pulling his gun on a frightened teller. His lover,
Andrea, by his side. Doggett, part of the team that had
responded to the alarm. On seeing the NYPD cops, Harvey
and his lover try to shoot their way out. Andrea levels her
gun at Doggett as she nears the door he is blocking. A split
second before she can fire he manages to offload his own
gun.

There was no choice. It was been him or her. That's what he
always tells himself and most of the time he believes it.

The nightmare hadn't ended there. It had only just begun.

Sheriff Sanchez continues, oblivious to Doggett's
distraction. "I talked to everyone at school and no one saw
him come back, or how. That boy just came out of the
blue."

Scully's movements inside the exam room jolt Doggett
back to the present; he realizes she has finished her
examination. He is only vaguely aware that Sanchez has
been speaking, but has no idea what was said. He assumes
a stern expression to cover for his lack of attention, and
turns to face Sanchez.

"I'll want to see the files you have on his disappearance,"
Doggett tells him.

"There's lots of files. There's just not much in them. We
never even had a suspect," Sanchez says with a trace of
bitterness in his voice. Doggett knows the Sheriff's type.
They hate to lose.

He exits the witness room at the same time Scully emerges
from the exam room. They both pause awkwardly, but
before either has time to speak, Lisa Underwood and her
husband, Doug, approach the agents from a row of chairs
in the hallway.

"Excuse me," Lisa asks, her tone anxious. "Are you
finished with Billy?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Underwood? I'm Agent Scully, and this is
Agent Doggett. Yes, I've conducted some preliminary
tests, I'm expecting the results back in a few days and
someone will be in touch then... we might need to see him
again." Scully can't quite believe what she's about to say.
"But... well, he seems perfectly healthy."

Lisa is smiling with delight, almost painfully happy.
Scully can tell that this woman is trying very hard not to
see what is under her nose. "It's a miracle, isn't it?"

The miracle that Doggett never got. Agent Reyes. Himself.
Racing to the location that they had been given. Knowing
already it was too ... late. They had been assured of that.
Having no choice. They had to keep running.

Overwhelmed by a sudden, unidentifiable pain, Doggett
is unable to take the conversation any longer and has to
step away.

The miracle that Scully was still waiting for. Searching the
Arizona desert. Calling his name. A brief surge of hope as
lights flare from the sky - lights ultimately revealed to be a
helicopter. Feeling him so close and yet not able to find
him.

She couldn't step away.

"Can we take him home now?" Lisa asks.

Scully and Doggett exchange glances. There are still
questions to be answered, and it is Doggett who gently
denies them permission. There is detective work yet to do,
grass roots investigation, and that is Doggett's specialty.
"I'd just like to talk to Billy first," he insists.

He walks into the exam room, while Scully and the boy's
parents move into the witness room to watch through the
glass window.

Doggett sits down at the table across from where the little
boy is drawing -- the same symbol over and over. He
softens his voice.

"How you doing, Billy? My name's John. Do you mind if I
sit here? Is that all right?"

The boy doesn't respond.

Undaunted, Doggett continues. "Billy, I want you to know
that you're not alone. I've talked to lots of other boys and
girls who've been hurt just like you. Sometimes, when they
talk about it, the hurt starts to go away. You want to talk
about it, Billy?"

The little boy still doesn't look up from his coloring.
Doggett forces himself to be patient, and tries again.

"You know, maybe you think bad things happened to you
because you've been a bad boy... but I'm here to tell you,
that's not true. The bad guy is the one who took you away,
and it's up to you and me to get the bad guy."

The memories are almost killing him, as the boy finally
glances up, looking Doggett straight in the eye.

His own son's fear-filled eyes as he pleaded with his
captor. "Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me."

Harvey's mocking voice... "It's time for sacrifice, boy. An
eye for an eye. It's your dad's fault you're here!"

Doggett wakes up sweating, screaming, "LUKE!"

Doggett clears his throat. "See, 'cause as big and tough as I
am, I can't do it alone. I need your help. Can you tell me
about him, Billy? What's his name? What did he look
like?"

Three days they'd searched. Lured on sporadically by
phone calls from Harvey... "Found what you're missing
yet?"... Never long enough for a trace... the man was a pro.
Just long enough to eat into Doggett's heart.

And when they'd found Luke, twelve hours after the final
phone call, he was dead. Had been dead, almost since the
beginning.

In what he now believes would be a futile gesture, Doggett
opens the evidence bag and sets the backpack with the
dinosaur design on the desk. "You remember this, don't
you, Billy? Would you like to have that back?" But when
the boy reaches for it, Doggett pulls it away.

>From behind the glass, Lisa inhales a sharp breath. "What
is he doing?" she demands.

Scully is at a loss for words. She is as shocked as Lisa
sounds, and does not try to stop the distraught woman as
she enters the exam room, picks up Billy and the backpack
and carries him out.

Walking furiously into the room where her so-called
partner now stands alone, Scully voice is quiet, but there is
no mistaking the anger behind it. "You think this is a
game?"

Doggett looks at her and says simply, "Yes, it is a game. A
serious game; one we have to win."

"A child is not a game," she replies. "Have you ever
worked this type of case before, Agent Doggett? Child
abductions?"

At this question, Doggett freezes, but only for an instant.
It's apparent she doesn't know about Luke, which
surprises him, for she is nothing if not thorough and he
knows she must have investigated his background. He
briefly considers the possibility of telling her, but knows
that now is not the time. He chooses another route.

"I worked the child abduction task force, yeah. So I know
the horror stories. But Agent Scully, this kid can help us."

"You are ignoring the fact that he is still seven years old."

For the second time that day, Doggett recognizes that he
isn't getting anywhere, and right now, he's not sure he
wants to try.

He turns and walks out of the room. Scully stares at his
back in astonishment until he closes the door behind him.

3:55 p.m.

Later, Scully interrupts Doggett who is sitting poring over
some files. He looks up.

"Have you got anything, Agent Scully?" he asks warily,
mindful of the way their last conversation ended.

"I spoke with the doctors who treated Billy. I looked at his
charts. What showed up is that Billy is the same boy who
was taken ten years ago."

"We know that," Doggett replies, slightly exasperated.

"No. I mean the same boy. He has no cavities. He has no
tooth decay. He still has four baby teeth that he's never
lost.

He had a routine blood test six weeks before he
disappeared in 1990. His cell counts, his enzymes, his
hormone levels, they are all exactly the same as they were
ten years ago."

Scully doesn't quite believe what she is saying, and she
knows Doggett won't, either.

His response proves her right. "Now how can that be
possible?"

"It's not," she admits.

"Well, that's just great," Doggett huffs. "I suppose you're
going to tell me next that we're back to aliens? I don't care
how much we need to find Agent Mulder, I'm not going to
tell that to those poor people who have been missing their
son for ten years."

"Listen to me. Those poor people already know there's
something highly strange going on, and we'd be derelict in
our duty if we ignored any avenue of explanation as a
possibility for such anomalous medical findings, to both
the parents and their son."

"You know, these words: 'Anomalous,' 'supernatural,'
'paranormal...'" Doggett's tone borders on derisive. "They
purport to explain something by not explaining it. It's lazy.
I just don't see a link to Mulder here, and I don't think that
aliens are behind what happened to that little boy. And it
would be irresponsible and insensitive to suggest such a
thing to the parents. Not to mention the fact that it would
jeopardize any influence and further information the can
provide us with. Surely the word 'confabulation' means
something to you."

Scully stares at him defiantly. She cannot keep quiet about
it now. "First of all, Agent Doggett, I would like to point
out that the only person involved in this investigation who
has mentioned Agent Mulder at all is you."

Doggett opens his mouth to respond, but Scully cuts him
off. "Now. As far as this case is concerned, I'm not saying
that I can explain it, but even you have to admit that this is
definitely not normal. And if you're going to be working
on the X-Files, you should be prepared for cases that defy
simple explanation."

Doggett gazes at her for a moment, as though honestly
contemplating what she said. He then picks a photo out of
a file. "I went back to the witnesses at the crime scene the
day Billy vanished. To this guy, Ronnie Purnell. He was
detained, questioned and dismissed as a suspect. He's a
high school dropout, with several convictions for
possession, arson, and shoplifting since 1990."

Scully suddenly registers what her partner is holding.
"These are juvenile records. These are sealed by the court,
Agent Doggett. We're not supposed to have these."

Doggett counters defensively. "We're at a standstill here."

But Scully will not be convinced. "Yeah, that may be. But
you're breaking the law."

"Mulder didn't exactly go by the book, did he, Agent
Scully?"

She can't deny this but gives a toss of her head, trying to
conceal her frustration at hearing Mulder's name too many
times during this conversation. "What Mulder did or did
not do is none of your concern."

"Look, I want to catch this guy. Whatever it takes."

His partner can give no answer to that.

9:03 p.m.

Back at the Underwoods' home, Lisa can't believe that she
is tucking her son in for the first time in ten years. "We
love you so much, Billy. It's so good to have you back -- to
be tucking you in. Sleep tight," she murmurs, kissing him
goodnight.

Billy has his eyes closed while Lisa is in the room, but
immediately sits up when she leaves. His motions are
almost robotic as he carefully climbs out of bed, pads
across the room, and quietly slips out to the landing to
listen to his parents, arguing quietly in the next room.

"He's asleep," Lisa sighs, sitting on the bed, watching her
husband finish up some paperwork at his desk. He
answers without turning to face her.

"Billy or Josh?"

"Both, but I meant Billy."

"Of course you did," her husband returns flatly. Lisa is
defensive.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're blind to what's going on here." He
finally looks at her.

"Ten years we prayed for this. Every night, we prayed to
God."

"I prayed for our son. That is not the boy I knew, Lisa."

Lisa is almost pleading now. "What do you expect him to
be? They told us this will take time."

"Even Josh is afraid of him."

"He is nothing to be afraid of."

Doug looks away, back at his papers. "I wish I could
believe that."

In the meantime, Billy has now moved to softly enter his
brother's room. With a carving knife in his hand.

9:15pm

He may not have had legal permission to see Ronnie
Purnell's juvenile records, but now that he had, Doggett
was not going to let it go. The files are sitting on the
passenger seat of the car as he drives to a trailer park,
Ronnie's last known address.

He finds the right one and parks the car a short distance
away. He takes no special care to be quiet as he
approaches Purnell's door, then knocks on it.

"Anybody in there? Hello? Ronnie Purnell?"

He receives no answer and is just about to leave when an
old beige car pulls up, with Ronnie behind the wheel.

Doggett goes up to the car. "Ronnie Purnell?"

The man doesn't look at Doggett as he confirms his
identity.

"Can you get out of the car? I'm a Federal agent, and I need
to talk to you."

Reluctantly, Ronnie gets out of the car. "Is this about my
probation?" he asks nervously.

"It's about a little boy named Billy Underwood. You know
that name? Ring a bell?"

Ronnie's expression becomes closed. He is not going to
admit anything.

"It does to everybody else in this area. He vanished from a
school fair you were at ten years ago. You remember him
now?"

"Yeah, I remember him," Ronnie admits.

"Think he'd remember you?"

Doggett sees a look of confusion cross the other man's face
as he forces a laugh. "You're a trip, man. You know that?"

"Look, this has nothing to do with you being stoned or
violating your probation. All I'm asking is that we go see
Billy. See what he says."

"See what he says where?" Doggett can tell that Ronnie is
genuinely confused, but he isn't quite sure about what. He
plays along.

"Where? Wherever. Wherever you want. I'll make sure he's
there."

Ronnie apparently has had enough of this exchange.
"You're not making sense, dude. Just leave me alone."

He storms angrily into the trailer, and Doggett starts after
him, then stops himself. He doesn't have a warrant, and
he's already bent more than enough rules just getting hold
of the guy's juvenile records. He watches the flimsy trailer
door slam shut, then gets back into his car.

He sits a moment. Almost instinctively, he pulls out the
well-thumbed picture of his son, the last taken before the
boy had been killed.

Walking into his house, just after they had found Luke,
knowing he would now face the most difficult job of all...
telling his wife. He lets himself in, and Jenny is
immediately at the door. Her face is, for a split second,
hopeful, until she sees his expression. Then he doesn't
need to say anything after all.

"No, John. No." If she denies it, it won't be true. Then she
collapses into his arms. "Not Luke. Not our baby."

He should have stopped this. He had let his son down. He
had let his wife down. The pain was unbearable, and all he
can do is take her in his arms and whisper her name.
"Jenny," he breathes. His tone is pure agony.

Looking up, Doggett shakes himself out of his reverie and
puts the picture away. He stares at the trailer for another
moment, seeing the sway of curtains inside as someone
looking out the window ducks back. Then he leaves,
pulling out of the dirt lot in an angry spray of gravel.

Ronnie Purnell emerges from the trailer as the car the F.B.I.
agent is driving disappears and the dust begins to settle.
Then he comes down the steps of the small porch and
begins to walk across the gravel-covered lot. There is a
barn in the distance and he crosses to it and walks past it,
into a small stand of trees beyond.

Almost in a trance, he enters the grove and kneels by a
small mound. For a long moment, he stares at it intently.

Then he makes a decision.

Bending, he begins to scrape away the soil until he
uncovers a small skull.

October 17th
The Underwood Residence
8:21 a.m.

In a robe and slippers, Lisa Underwood shuffles down the
hallway to the room she settled Billy in the night before,
reaching for the doorknob and slowly opening it.

"Billy? Billy, sweetheart, time to wake up."

The room is empty. The bedcovers are rumpled and
flipped back, but Billy is nowhere in the room. Breathing
heavily in mounting panic, she dashes down the hall to
Josh's room, opening the door with a resounding crash as
it slams into the wall behind it.

Josh startles awake as Lisa pauses, horrified and
transfixed, in the doorway. Sticking out of the mattress
beside her son is a large, blood-stained knife. She screams
involuntarily, running toward her son and pulling him out
from under the covers. Blood is smeared across his
nightshirt.

"Joshey, are you hurt? You're bleeding." She pulls him to
her, but the blood is not Josh's; he has no cuts on him.

"Where did that come from?" she asks, pointing to the
knife.

"I don't know," he says, still getting his bearings from
being awakened so suddenly.

And then they both turn and see Billy, standing there.
Staring at Josh.

9:08 a.m.

Back at the hospital, Sanchez shows the knife to Scully and
Doggett. "Just got word back from the lab. Ran the blood
twice and no doubt about it. It's the little boy's."

"But I thought you said he wasn't cut," Doggett says.

"No. You're misunderstanding. It's the other son I'm
talking about, Billy -- the boy who was kidnapped."

"That doesn't make any sense," Doggett replies as he
studies the knife.

"No, it doesn't," Scully agrees. "Billy wasn't cut either."

"No, but he definitely handled the knife," says Sanchez.
"His prints are on it."

"Where did he even get it?" asks Doggett.

"His father's never seen it before. He's no hunter. Never
cleaned an animal, which is about all a knife like that's
good for... except for killing, of course."

Scully bites her lip, not wanting to say what she knows she
has to. "Well, I hate to say this... but I think that the best
thing for Billy and his family is if he's removed to an
institution under the observation of people who are
experienced in these things."

Doggett knows he is responding emotionally -- personally
-- but he can't help himself. "You mean, remove him? Take
him away? After all his family's been through?"

Trying to remain objective, Scully says, "This is not a
normal child, Agent Doggett, and this is not a normal act."

"You make it sound like he's possessed. You wanna call
the exorcist? He's a kid -- a kid who's been through who
knows what kind of hell. Give him a chance. How do you
know he's not trying to communicate something?"

"And what's the message? Yes, he's a kid, Agent Doggett,
you're right. He's a kid who materialized out of thin air,
unaged. Do you not recognize how strange this is?"

Deep in thought, Doggett looks back down at the knife and
notices a simple five pointed star symbol engraved on the
handle of the knife. "Did anybody notice this? This
symbol?"

Sanchez responds affirmatively. "Yeah, uh, I was going to
mention that to you 'cause it's... uh... kind of weird."

"Weird how?"

"Well, like I told you, we tried everything to find that boy
and who abducted him. We went so far as to bring in a
police psychic -- came up with that very same symbol."

"Well, how exactly did he come up with it?"

"She. Sharon Pearl. Couldn't say how it came to her."

Scully looks thoughtfully at the knife. "I've seen this
symbol before, too." With that, she walks into the
observation room and picks up the sheet of paper that
Billy was drawing on. She peruses it for a moment, then,
without a word, holds it up against the mirror for the men
to see. It is covered with many small copies of the same
symbol.

Sanchez breathes almost inaudibly. "I'll be damned."

The Underwood Residence
10:13 a.m.

Lisa is dressing her son, hating what she is about to do,
trying to reassure him despite her own fears. "We love you
so much, Billy. Whatever happened... we want to put it
behind us. Be a family again. And if you could help us to
understand what you're going through, we could move
forward."

As she finishes dressing him, he tries to pull away.

"Now, we're just going to go see a doctor, someone you
might want to talk to. We're coming right back." She tries
to reassure him. "Nothing's going to happen. Mommy
won't let anything happen to you. I just want you to get the
help you need so we can all live here together and be
happy. Okay? Come on, sweetie."

She carries him downstairs and sits him in the car. As
Doug arrives to help her, Lisa sees that her husband seems
hesitant to leave the house.

"I'll take him, Doug. If it's such a strain on you," she snaps.
He sighs, but doesn't reply as he joins his wife.

As they both get in the car, watched by Josh from his
bedroom window, he finally speaks. "Look, if you think a
shrink can give us some answers, fine. I just don't want this
to ruin our other son's life in any way." He turns around to
Billy before he starts the car, and finds that the boy has
vanished.

"Billy? Billy?" Doug calls. They both get out of the car and
begin looking around, wondering where he could have
gotten to.

Then both Lisa and Doug hear a yell from the house.
"DAD!" It's Josh's voice, startled.

Lisa gets out and runs into the house to find Billy standing
there, right next to his brother, seemingly oblivious to his
parents' calls for him.

2:05 p.m.

"Mrs. Underwood, there's something I'd like to try." Scully
says when Lisa telephones.

"Sharon Pearl... the psychic who was brought in on Billy's
case ten years ago?" she begins.

"Yes, I remember."

"Do you remember anything about a symbol she
visualized?"

"Yes." The tone is certain, anything to do with her son's
disappearance is not something Lisa will readily forget.

"It's the same symbol that Billy was drawing... and the
same one that was on the carving knife that was on Josh's
bed this morning."

"What does that mean?" Lisa asks apprehensively.

"I don't know." Scully is honest. "But I think we should at
least get in touch with her."

3:30 p.m.

As Scully and Doggett arrive at the Underwoods, it is
obvious that Doug is not happy with the situation.

"This is great. Now, I've got a psychic sitting in my living
room who's going to tell me what's wrong with my son."

Scully is conciliatory. "I understand your misgivings, Mr.
Underwood, but perhaps you can look at this as just
another avenue."

"An avenue to what?"

Doggett jumps in. "We're going to solve this case, Mr.
Underwood. We're going to find out who did this to your
son." Doggett tries to make his voice sound reassuring,
though he shares Mr. Underwood's doubts about the
method.

"And then what? What am I left with? A kid who stabs
knives into his brother's mattress? You don't know the half
of it. He gives everyone but his mother the creeps with that
stare of his."

Doggett speaks with a quiet intensity. "I just know that this
is going to tear you apart. It's going to tear your family
apart. And you can't let it. You've got to save them from
the damage this can do."

With that Doug takes Josh's hand and leaves the house.
The look in his eyes is the same as Jenny's had been after
Luke died, when she had been finally driven to leave as
well.

He sees Jenny again, that final day.

Her bags packed by the door. Her eyes empty. He had
gazed despairingly at her. "Is this it, Jenny?" he'd begged.
"Isn't there any other way?"

But there had not been. Close to tears, she'd met his eyes.
"I'm sorry, John. I know it wasn't your fault. I know you're
not to blame, you did everything you could but... I just
can't be with you any more." In a whisper. "I'm no good to
you anyway. I think part of me died with Luke."

He felt his heart break with her words.

She'd walked up to him, caressed his cheek. He'd grasped
her hand, but then it was gone. She'd walked out of the
door. He was standing there. Alone.

Sharon Pearl, the psychic, comes up to the rest of the
group, sweeping into the room, brightly coloured skirt
flowing about her legs. "Is this going to happen?" she asks
breezily.

Sanchez nods towards her and introduces her. "Agents
Scully, Doggett... Sharon Pearl."

"Shouldn't you be telling us that?" asks Doggett, an
undercurrent of sarcasm in his tone, bringing himself back
to reality as he perfunctorily shakes her hand.

Sharon smiles. "You're no doubt confuzed, Agent Doggett.
I take psychic readings. I don't see through walls."

Lisa brings Billy downstairs.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Mrs. Underwood. I'm Sharon Pearl. I consulted on your
son's disappearance back in 1990." Lisa nods, and Sharon
kneels to Billy's level. "And you're Billy?" But as she looks
at him her face twists into an expression of shock.

"Ms. Pearl? Are you okay?" Scully asks.

But Sharon is oblivious to her surroundings. Her voice
trembles as she speaks. "There are very powerful forces at
work here. Working through this boy. Drawing him to his
brother. I feel this force..." She lets go of Billy's hand,
stands and repeats. "I feel this force..." She looks at Doggett
"Coming through you. You lost someone just like Billy."

Scully looks at Doggett in surprise, as his face turns ashen.

Then Sharon turns to her. "And you. Someone you love is
missing."

Scully can hardly figure out what to make of this woman,
but before she can respond, Sharon collapses and begins
convulsing.

Scully rushes to her side, and tries to gently restrain her as
Sharon's forehead begins to swell. "She's having a grand-
mal seizure. Call 911," she yells to Doggett. He moves
towards the phone, but is frozen to the spot by the sight of
Sharon's forehead rippling to form the same symbol that
Billy was drawing.

"Oh my God," Scully breathes.

The Purnell Trailer
3.48 p.m.

As Ronnie comes out of the woods and heads back to the
car, he sees his stepfather, Cal Jeppy, standing outside the
trailer, beer bottle in hand. The man is not a pleasant sight
to look at, obese, greasy hair, and an obnoxious attitude
that seems to permeate his soul, if he even has one.

Ronnie gives him one glance then ignores him as he climbs
into the vehicle and tries to start the engine.

Cal won't let him leave quite that easily. He wanders over
to the driver's side window. Ronnie can smell his foul,
alcoholic breath. "Where are you going in such a big
hurry? Hmm? What's the matter? Got something in your
ears?"

Cal sticks his filthy finger through the window and into
Ronnie's ear. Ronnie flinches but still avoids looking at
him.

"Don't .. don't touch me, Cal."

"Oh, listen to him. No wonder he wears them baggy
britches. Our Ronnie's a big man now." The man takes a
swig of beer. "Your old lady said the cops came and talked
to you. Hmm?"

In the blink of an eye, Cal is in a rage. He smashes his beer
bottle against the side of the car, holding the edge of the
broken neck against Ronnie's head. "I am talking to you,
not the side of your head. Better mind your Ps and Qs,
Jones. Or I'm going to tell them what you did to that little
boy. I'm going to tell them what you got buried out there
in the woods. "

Ronnie slowly turns to look at him, but Cal is impatient
and stabs him with the bottle right behind his left ear. The
younger man gasps in pain and puts his hand to his head
as his mother, Marcia, looks out the front door.

"What's going on with you two?" she calls out.

"Talking about cars." Mocking affection, Cal slaps the hood
of the car and Ronnie's shoulder, then walks back to the
house as Ronnie finally gets the car started and drives
away quickly, tires spinning in the dirt.

The Underwood Residence
3.54 p.m.

An ambulance pulls out of the driveway and disappears
down the street, sirens wailing. Without a word, Lisa leads
Billy back into the house as Scully joins Doggett in their
car. She slides behind the wheel and looks at Doggett.
"Well, they've got her stabilized, and it looks like she's
going to be okay... if you're at all curious about her
condition."

"I'd be more curious if I believed it."

For a moment, Scully can't believe what she is hearing. But
she considers the source, and finds that she isn't surprised
that he has doubts about Ms. Pearl. "You think that was an
act?"

"It's pretty standard fare, isn't it? Float a few choice
revelations, as if they came from on high, then roll around
on the floor."

The smallest hint of a smile, the first in weeks, crosses her
lips, as she recognizes the words that would have come
from her own mouth barely months before. But now she
knows better.

"You did see the symbol appear on her forehead," she
points out, almost gently.

"It's a damn good trick. Don't ask me how she does it."

Scully takes these words as a challenge now, as Mulder
must have done all those years with her. Slowly,
deliberately, she turns up the volume on the dictaphone
she had used to record the 'session', so that she and
Doggett can hear it.

The sound of Sharon speaking gibberish fills the car.

"Agent Scully, please." Doggett says. He's had just about
all he can take for one day.

"No. I think you'll want to hear this." She lets it run for a
moment. "Now listen to it backwards." Pressing rewind on
the player, another voice fills the car.

"When you wake, you shall have all the pretty horses..."

"It's a child singing," she states unnecessarily.

Doggett looks at her in bewilderment. "What the hell... and
how on earth did you know to play it backwards?"

"A little trick Mulder used," she admits with a small smile.
Then her tone becomes more serious. "Agent Doggett... I
need to know what Sharon Pearl meant in there. If you
have a personal connection to this case that's hindering
your objectivity..."

"Personal connection? Objectivity? Those are fine words
coming from you," he says bitterly. "I haven't seen you use
much objectivity lately. And by all reports, Agent Mulder
used the FBI to grind his own personal axe as well."

Scully doesn't bother to refute the statements -- in truth,
she really can't refute them. But something tells her to
persist. "Unless you can assure me that there is nothing,
Agent Doggett... I will have to request that you be
removed from this case." The words are almost gentle, but
nonetheless determined.

She sees a look of anger cross his face, but she is
completely unprepared for what he is about to say.

"My little boy, Luke, was kidnapped and murdered by a
lowlife. Purely out of revenge. I shot his girlfriend while
they were indulging in a little bank robbery." He spits the
words out. "He was seven years old."

True, he had considered telling her anyway, but at the
moment, he is angry that she forced his hand. He turns to
face her, and lashes out.

"So you'll excuse me if I don't have much patience for
'aliens' and 'abductions.' In my experience, the truth is far
simpler. And when you go chasing after a fantasy, you
give some scum that much more of a chance to get away."

Scully says nothing. There is nothing she can say. Her eyes
close with the weight of her regret, that she forced him into
sharing something he obviously wasn't ready to share.

She looks back over at Doggett, who is staring straight
ahead at a fixed point in the distance. She reaches over and
places her hand gently on his arm.

Lying in a hospital bed, holding Emily, knowing there was
nothing she could do but wait for the little girl to die in her
arms.

The tension in the car is unbearable. Scully removes her
hand from Doggett's arm and begins to turn the key to get
them both out of there, but Doggett stops her as he looks
out of the window and sees Ronnie Purnell's car pulling
up.

"What's he doing here?" Doggett asks.

Ronnie is suddenly stopped, paralyzed by fright, as Billy
appears beside him in the passenger seat, seemingly out of
thin air, touching his shoulder. He goes ashen. "Get away
from me!" he pleads. "I tried to help you. I didn't want you
to be hurt. Please. Leave me alone."

He sees Doggett running towards him. "Ronnie, open up
the car!" Doggett calls, but, terrified, the younger man
starts the car and drives away. Doggett gives chase on foot,
not caring about the futility of it.

"Agent Scully," he yells back, "He's got Billy!"

Scully leaps back into the car, attempting to circle the
block to cut Ronnie off onto a side street.

The younger man sees her in his rear view mirror, but
realizes the trap too late, and is forced to a stop. Scully
jumps back out of the car and trains her gun on Ronnie.
"Get out of the car! Now!"

This time, Ronnie follows the order. He slowly climbs out
of the car and raises his hands above his head. Doggett
catches up and turns him around, pushing his stomach
and chest against the car.

There is a look of relief on Ronnie's face. It is finally over.

"Don't move, Ronnie. Where's Billy?" Doggett asks.

Scully glances into Ronnie's car, but there is no sign of the
child. "I thought you said Billy was in there?" she says,
confused.

"Where's Billy?" he demands again of Ronnie.

Ronnie still doesn't answer.

5:02 p.m.

The van is almost on empty. Doug stops at a gas station.
He fills the tank, and after replacing the pump, he leans
into the car to speak to his son.

"I'm going to go pay. You want anything?" he asks. Josh
shakes his head silently.

His father is concerned. "Josh, are you okay, buddy?" He
receives a nod, but doesn't believe it for a moment. There
isn't anything he can do. There's nothing any of them can
do.

As his dad goes into the station, Josh sits up eagerly as he
sees a man leading a saddled pony to a horse trailer next
to another pump. He calls out "Dad, can I...?" but his father
is already in the store.

A moment of indecision crosses his face, but in the end,
Josh doesn't have the patience to wait. He gets out of the
van and runs to look through the slats in the trailer. "Pony,
hey, pony. Hey, there you are. Is it okay if I pet you? Come
here, pony. Come here, boy. I'm just going to pet you,
okay? Come on."

Then a sixth sense of unease grips him, and he starts to
turn, heading back to the safety of the van.

It is too late. Josh feels himself pulled up against the side
of the trailer as his arms are grasped from within. The
pickup truck pulls the trailer away. The little boy, stuck on
the outside of the trailer, screams for his father.

The sheriff's office
5:36 p.m.

Doggett paces as Sanchez books Ronnie.

"Count to ten, Agent Doggett." Scully advises dryly.

"He took Billy," her partner returns flatly.

"He couldn't have," she says. She meets his eyes, her gaze
sympathetic. "Agent Doggett, I know this must be hard for
you, but..."

With a wave of his hand Doggett dismisses her concern.
He's not willing to go into personal feelings. Not here. Not
now. He returns to the subject at hand.

"How are you going to back that up with Billy now
missing from his home?"

Scully accepts the change of subject. "By the certain
knowledge that not five minutes earlier, I saw him enter
his home with his mother."

"I saw him!" Doggett insists. "I saw Billy riding in the car
with Ronnie. Why else would Ronnie take off like he did?"

"It's impossible, Agent Doggett, like everything else about
this case. Like how Billy can be in his home one minute
and then in Ronnie's car the next. Everything about this
case is impossible," she says, making it clear that Doggett
is not alone in his frustration.

Scully finally admits to herself that, as much as she
pretended otherwise, she was hoping against hope for a
lead in her search for Mulder. But she knows there won't
be one here, and now she just wants to go home. But she
can't walk away from Billy yet... her conscience won't let
her.

"This kid Ronnie is the key, Agent Scully. I've been saying
that from the beginning and I'll say it now."

Sanchez opens the door and rejoins them. "Agent Doggett,
Agent Scully, I got bad news on top of worse. Josh, the
Underwoods' other little boy, has disappeared." The
sheriff shakes his head at their stares of disbelief. "I'm not
joking, not even close. I got the parents out here now.
Come on."

Scully follows Sanchez into another room where the
Underwoods are waiting, barely holding themselves
together. Doggett, however, decides to play his hunch.

Doggett walks into the detention center and follows the
guard's directions to a small interview room where Ronnie
is waiting for him.

Ronnie looks up as Doggett enters, and doesn't bother
giving the agent a chance to speak. "I know what you're
going to ask... but I got no answer."

Doggett decides not to mess around with this kid. "Well,
there can be only one answer, right? I mean, why else did
you go to the house? You went there for Billy, to get him
back."

"No."

"You had him in your car." It is a statement, not a question.

"I don't know how he got there."

"Then why go to the house at all?"

"Because I didn't believe you," Ronnie says flatly.

"You didn't believe me? When? What did I say that you
didn't believe?"

"You said I could talk to him."

Doggett is beginning to sense that perhaps Ronnie is not
the end of the line as far as Billy is concerned. But he
doesn't let up quite yet.

"You needed to talk to him. After all those years, you
couldn't live without him. You wanted him back. All those
years, Ronnie. All those years. Where'd you keep him?" he
asks, his voice raising.

Ronnie's voice begins to tremble. "Man, you don't
understand."

"You were sorry you let him go." Doggett is relentless.

"No, I... I couldn't let him go."

"Who else knew about him? Your mom?"

"No."

"Where'd you keep him?"

"I didn't."

Doggett knows he is close. "What did you do to him?"

Ronnie looks at him. "I didn't do anything. I took care of
him. I-I sang to him... you know, so he wouldn't be afraid."

Doggett lets this sink in. His instincts were right; Ronnie
was -- and is -- being manipulated by someone else. His
voice softens.

"Afraid of who? Who was he afraid of, Ronnie? Somebody
else involved? Somebody else make you do it? He take
that other kid, too? Billy's brother? He take him? You're
afraid of him, too, aren't you? You're a victim, just like
those other kids. Is that right?"

Doggett leans in close, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You and me, Billy. This is our chance, man. What's his
name?"

Ronnie begins to cry.

Purnell Trailer
10:13 p.m.

The trailer yard is suddenly a hive of sirens and blinking
blue lights, overrun by police cars. Doggett and Scully get
out of their car and run to the barn door.

Doggett pulls his gun. "FBI! Cal Jeppy! Come out!" There is
no response.

They enter the barn cautiously, looking around. At first the
barn seems empty... until Scully hears a faint whimper
from beneath her and glances down at a gap in the
floorboards.

Josh is bound and gagged under them, his eyes wide with
fear.

Doggett drops to his knees, pulling at the boards in a
feverish effort to free the boy. "All right. It's okay, Josh.
You're okay. We're not going to hurt you. We'll have you
back home before you know it."

But first, they'll have to catch the perpetrator.

While Doggett continues his efforts, Scully glances out
through the slatted side of the barn and sees Cal Jeppy
running toward the woods.

"Agent Doggett... He's on the run," she shouts a warning,
and turns to give chase. But Doggett leaps up from the
floor and is out the door before her, so she stays behind to
comfort the boy while she does what she can to free him.

Racing after Cal, Doggett can't wait for backup. He yells
his commands to the rest of team. "He's in the woods!
Watch your fire! There may be another boy!"

By this time, Cal is red-faced and panting; he is not made
for this kind of pursuit. After just a few moments, Doggett
catches him.

"Down on your knees!" Doggett orders, and Cal has no
choice but to obey. "Hands in the air! Where's the kid?"

"He's in the trailer." Cal says with an air of defeat.

"The other kid!" Doggett snaps.

"There's no other kid."

"Billy Underwood!"

Cal is terrified now, and confused. His voice goes high as
he repeats, "There's no other kid."

But when Doggett turns and looks behind him, Billy is
standing there, just a few feet away.

He turns to the other agents who had converged on the
scene seconds after him. "Get this man in cuffs! Read him
his rights! The kid's over here..."

Doggett turns back, but the child is gone.

Slowly, Doggett walks over to the spot where he had seen
Billy just seconds before. He stops behind the half-
exposed skull.

November 16th
9:48 a.m.

The chaos of the night before has calmed, and the woods
are almost eerily quiet, taped off with crime scene tape.
Lisa and Doug cling to each other as they look at the small,
crude grave.

Doggett watches them for a moment, then walks over to
join his partner a few yards away. "I hate to sound like a
broken record, Agent Scully, but... I don't believe it."

"Well, we have the clothes, the age and condition of the
bones, the location of the grave. It's not easy for me to say
this, but there is no doubt that Billy Underwood's skeleton
is in that grave."

"We spent time with this boy. Doctors took Billy's blood.
He had his backpack with him that he had the day he
disappeared. You examined him yourself. Now, I can't
accept it." Doggett regards the parents with sympathy.
"And I can't believe we're asking them to."

"I spoke to the hospital. The vials they stored his blood
samples in are empty. The sheet he colored on is gone. The
DNA test results are blank. The knife in Josh's bed was
found in Jeppy's trailer, even though we both saw it
bagged and taken to the police evidence room. There are
no hair or skin cells in his bed or on the pajamas he wore,
or on the brush his mother used on his hair. All physical
traces of his presence over the last four days are
completely gone."

Scully takes a breath. She doesn't know how to explain to
Doggett that despite her recent willingness to look beyond
the realm of science, there are times when retreating back
to its safety is just as difficult. "Whether we want to believe
it or not, whether our eyes confirm it or not, the initial
forensic evidence leads to no other possible conclusion
except that Billy Underwood was murdered ten years ago.
And that this is his body."

"Well, what then, Agent Scully? What we do? We move on,
let it go, case closed? What happened to your 'alien
abduction' theory?"

She swallows hard, biting back the residual feeling of
disappointment that this case hadn't led her to Mulder. "I
think, in this case, the 'monsters' are very much of this
world. Look, I know where you are with this. I have been
there. I know what you're feeling -- that you've failed, and
now you have to explain this, somehow. But maybe you
can't."

"Not if that's Billy's body, I can't."

"Maybe that's explanation enough. That's not Billy's
brother lying in that grave, too. That man who did this is
never going to be able to do it again. Isn't that what you
wanted, Agent Doggett?"

Doggett turns to face her. "Don't ask me to believe that this
is some kind of justice from beyond the grave."

"I have seen stranger things in my time on the X-Files.
Maybe it was justice from beyond the grave. Justice for
Billy."

Scully holds his gaze while she carefully chooses her
words.

"Maybe... Maybe it was justice for Luke, too. Maybe it was
protection for Josh, that it isn't him lying dead as well. And
maybe we succeeded... whether you're willing to admit
that or not."

Quietly, she walks away, leaving Doggett alone with his
thoughts.

And in his mind's eye, Doggett can see his son.

Alive. Happy. Swinging a baseball bat at his father's
pitches.

THE END






