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