A Hint of Resurrection (4/7)
by Ellie 

Email:  windblownellie@yahoo.com
Rating:  R (for some adult implications, language, and crimes against animals)
X-Files/Fringe Crossover
Timeline/Spoilers: Post-IWTB/Fringe S1 (but spoilers through S3)
Summary:  Olivia Dunham examines files from the old X-files Division, and 
requests a reluctant consult from former agent Fox Mulder.


***
Chapter 4
***

"We only agreed to consult on this case in order to determine its validity as 
a matter of investigation."

Olivia knew the calm in Dana Scully's voice was deceptive; she'd realized 
almost instantly that while her supervisors warned her of Mulder's 
unpredictability and dangerous impulses, it was Scully that could pose a true 
impediment to the investigation should she wish to.  She also recognized 
someone who preferred to deal in facts and reality, no matter how unpleasant 
that might be.  "Further investigation always meant followup by the Fringe 
team in Boston, Dr. Scully.  I thought you understood that.  I also thought 
you'd appreciate the opportunity to do some testing on your own, draw some 
blood and see if he really is who you think he is."

Mulder, at Scully's side now, looked shocked at her words, but Scully merely 
nodded.  "I do appreciate that opportunity.  But having dealt with similar 
claims in the past, I should be able to perform any evaluations here in the 
field."

"The primary scientific consultant employed by the Fringe team has his own 
extensive background in matters like this, Dr. Scully.  He'll want the 
opportunity to examine Billy himself, if your initial exam shows us anything.  
And if we take him to Boston--"

"What's this about Boston?"  Mike Van De Kamp walked up to their gaggle, a bag 
of grain slung over his shoulder.

"Just the man we were looking for," she said, calmly turning from Mulder and 
Scully to face the farmer.  "We were hoping your might be willing to bring 
Billy in to town tomorrow so that Dr. Scully can do a routine exam on him.  If 
there's further need for investigation, we might ask that he come to Boston 
for followup with a specialist we have on staff."

"From the fire?  You think he might have something so severe he needs a 
specialist, all the way in Boston?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Van De Kamp.  We're not worried that anything is wrong with 
Billy.  We think there may be something good happening with Billy, that 
allowed him to ride up to the barn and help those sheep the day of the fire.  
We'd like to find out what."

"And that's an FBI matter?"  Mike had put down the bag of grain at his feet, 
and was looking confused.

"If he possesses the ability to heal, sir, that would be a matter of great 
interest to national security, yes."

He nodded, wiping his brow with the back of one gloved hand.  "Well, what time 
did you want to see him tomorrow?  He's got school in town all day."

"Dr. Scully, what time would you prefer?"  Dunham deferred, turning to see her 
standing, arms crossed and lips pursed.

After a moment, Scully sighed and asked, "When does his school day start?"

"Eight thirty."

"If you can bring him by the Sheriff's office at seven, that should give me 
plenty of time to do an exam and have him to school on time."  Olivia thought 
a smile flickered over Mulder's lips at Scully's words, but looking again, she 
couldn't be sure.

"Yes, ma'am.  I'll see you all again then."  He removed a glove and extended a 
hand to them, which Olivia took and shook heartily.

Mulder and Scully were slower to follow suit, and to follow her back to the 
dusty Jeep.

*

"I don't know if I can do it, Mulder."  She slumped heavily into the 
overstuffed bedside chair.

Sitting on the bed across from her, he picked up one hand from her knee and 
laced his fingers through hers.  His lips formed a silent innuendo in response 
that she watched die, sotto voce, before he said, somberly and quietly, "Can't 
or won't?"

"Yes."  She shrugged and shook her head, tendrils of hair slipping loose and 
tickling her face.  Looking up at Mulder's face, so concerned and so long at 
her side that she knew it better than her own, she closed her eyes again, 
knowing he could read her troubled visage just as well.  "I said we'd do this 
to see what was happening, to see if he was William, to keep him safe if he 
was."  She opened her eyes and looked right at him.  "I don't need a blood 
test to know he's ours.  But I'm going to have to draw blood tomorrow, knowing 
something odd is going to show up on it.  Knowing it's going to be sent back 
to Boston.  Knowing I can't fake it by drawing either of ours, because we've 
got as much or more going on with ours.  Knowing she's going to insist that he 
be--"

Her panicked litany was cut short when Mulder pulled her from the chair and 
into his lap, muffling her voice against his chest.  One hand tangled through 
her hair, pulling it free of the sloppy braid she'd pulled it into while 
wandering the Barker farm.  His strong fingers kneaded her scalp, soothing, 
but his shuddering breath against her ear belied his own struggle with the 
situation.  Lips brushed her temple, the ghost of a kiss, but also pacifying 
with a "shhh" that barely reached her ears.

A cant of the head, and she brushed her lips against his, needing.  His arms 
closed tighter around her, crushing her against him as he maneuvered both of 
them up the bed, until he was resting against the flimsy excuse for a 
headboard.  She wrapped an arm up around his neck, pulling him into a deeper 
kiss which he returned in kind before gently pulling back and looking down at 
her, so near his eyes were almost crossed.  "What are we going to do?"

They'd had years of practice now at not letting desires overwhelm needs.  With 
a sigh, she nestled deeper against his chest, inhaling the scent of him, 
mingled with hay and dust, pine and ash.  "We both examine him.  I do a basic 
neuro exam, draw some blood.  I know what Dunham's people will want is an EEG 
or an MRI, but I don't think we'll have that kind of capability here, much as 
I'd like to see the results of them, too.  You can do a basic psych exam, and 
see if you can detect anything."

"Anything what?"  There was the hint of a taunt in his voice, the prod of one 
finger in the space between her ribs.

"Out of the ordinary."

"Extraordinary."

"I think he's already that.  He seems so happy here."

"He does," Mulder conceded.  "But maybe he'd be just as happy elsewhere."

"We can't do that, Mulder.  We can't take him away from a happy home and the 
only life he knows.  He's all that Mike Van De Kamp has.  I know how that 
feels," she said, softly, into his chest.

"Scully, I think we're going to have to tell Mr. Van De Kamp who we really 
are," he said, words coming slowly, carefully chosen.  "Maybe not William.  
But if we draw blood, if we can prove it, wouldn't we then have some say in 
the matter?  We could say no, even if he won't."

She shook her head and pulled away from him.  Her whole body ached, and it 
seemed to radiate out from her heart.  "I can do no such thing, Mulder.  We've 
been over this, repeatedly.  I signed away that right seven years ago."  It 
hurt her that he made her explain this again, kept picking at this wound.  
Shifting, she moved to sit next to him, putting a small gap between them.

He sighed, letting her have he space.  "I know.  But I also know that I did no 
such thing, and if it comes down to upsetting you or watching him be dragged 
off for testing like a lab rat, I'm not staying quiet."  There was no anger in 
his voice, just an earnestness that she knew well.  "I'd rather say something 
to Van De Kamp first, explain the situation before we have to have the 
discussion about something difficult and emotional."

"You're going to explain that I gave our son away while you were a missing 
federal fugitive, so you've now got some rights you'd like to assert?"

"Well, I'm sure there's a more tactful way than that to frame it."

With a snort, she shook her head.  "You've never been one for that, Mulder.  
But I think maybe you're right this time.  Let Mr. Van De Kamp decide how much 
to tell William, but he's got to know, because even a basic exam is going to 
find something meriting followup."

"Do you need anything for your exam?"

"No, my bag's in the suitcase."  She thought for a moment, then added, "Unless 
there's a place to get a tuning fork in this one-horse town."

Mulder gave half a laugh as he rose from the bed.  "I'll see what I can do.  
Tuning fork and dinner?  I've got to get a few things."

She gave him a faint smile.  He'd do his damnedest to find whatever she asked 
for.  "Dinner would be good, too."

"I'll see what I can scrounge up."  With a quick kiss, he departed, the door 
closing behind him with a heavy catch of the lock.  She rose slowly, making 
her way towards the laptop sitting on the table.  They were too close to it, 
but there was still work to be done.

*

There was something afoot, Olivia thought, as she watched the two former 
agents over breakfast.  Leaning back against the shiny vinyl of the diner 
booth, she sipped at her cup of dark coffee, exactly the way she liked it, 
lacking pretension and frivolous flavorings.  Across the table, Mulder was 
focused on an omelette, oozing cheese onto the plate, while Scully picked at a 
bowl of fruit.  No one spoke.

Olivia was fine with silence; it was actually a rather pleasant change from 
the usual free-association patter of Walter while investigating.  But there 
was something about this particular silence that left her with the feeling 
something significant to the investigation was being held back. 

"What aren't you two sharing?"  She sat down the coffee cup and looked between 
the pair.  They didn't look at here, only each other, and Scully shrugged 
before Mulder nodded.

"We had a son," he began, quietly, not looking at Scully as he spoke.  

Tempted to smile, she refrained, and cut off the story.  "I know.  I've read 
the files, and after meeting the two of you, I made a few calls and got a few 
additional files."

Scully looked up from her fruit, intensely angry gaze focused on Olivia.  "You 
had no right--"

"I had every right to fully investigate this case, Dr. Scully.  I understood 
when the two of you accepted this that there was an unusual level of interest 
at work.  Then the pieces fell in to place and I realized it was more of a 
conflict of interest."

"We've been nothing but professional while working on this case."

"Have been, yes.  But I have the feeling that objectivity is slipping over the 
prospect of examining your son."

Scully's fork clattered on the table.

Liv was nonplussed by the reaction across the table, merely reached into her 
bag and pulled out the slim file of filmy fax paper that had arrived for her 
that morning.  Wordlessly, she passed it across the table.  Scully opened it, 
and seemed to read intently, while Mulder's eye roved quickly over the page 
before looking up at her.

"How long have you known about this?"  There was an edge of danger, of 
possible threat, in his voice.

"I suspected when I met the two of you at Dulles.  When I called back to 
Boston to check in, I asked what they could get for me."

"This was sealed," said Scully, slapping the folder closed, not so 
emphatically given its meagerness.  "You should not have been able to get 
this."

"Over the last few months, I've acquired sources who are skilled at procuring 
the unobtainable," she said, choosing her words carefully, thinking of Peter, 
of Massive Dynamic.  This came through Peter, and she's slightly less 
mistrustful of its origins.

"Agent Dunham, I can tell you from a sad history that--"

"I'm aware of some of your unfortunate incidents involving supposed sources, 
Mr. Mulder."  She knew it irked him when she used the "mister," knew he just 
wanted to be "Mulder," like he was Madonna or Cher or something, and she 
wasn't having it.  "This is a source I work with daily, and trust."  Not 
implicitly, she doesn't say, but trusts him not to get her bad intelligence, 
to have gone through enough back channels that this is real.

There was silence, and Scully runs her index finger down the spine of the file 
before breaking it.  "There was a good reason I gave our child, a child I had 
struggled and prayed for, up for anonymous, closed adoption, Agent Dunham.  
Interested parties wanted him, because they believed him to be something 
extraordinary, and did their best on numerous occasions to take him from me.  
This," she tapped the file, "was done to keep those people from finding him.  
Doing this will essentially acknowledge him to them, and force us to turn him 
into the lab rat I was trying to keep him from becoming."

The booth creaked as Olivia leaned back in her seat and looked at the pair of 
them.  Mulder's jaw was clenched so tightly she was surprised she couldn't 
hear the teeth grinding, but Scully appeared frighteningly calm, despite her 
words.  Choosing her words carefully, she began, "This information did not 
come through any official channels, I assure you.  Though practically 
speaking, the fact that he was able to get it for me so easily leads me to 
believe that if someone had truly wanted this information, they would have it 
already."

Across the table, Mulder exhaled in a rush, but Scully still looked pensive.

"At this point, there's no going back on this.  And it's better to have us 
find out what's going on with the boy and keep an eye on him.  I don't want to 
see anything bad happen to him, I just want to understand what happened here, 
and how he was a part of it.  If it's not related to the larger Pattern we're 
investigating, there's no further interest on the part of the government.  
Whether either of you want to make his parentage known to Mr. Van De Kamp is 
your own decision."

*

Scully was well aware of the two-way mirror behind her as she began her exam 
on Billy Van De Kamp.  She actually tried to focus a bit of her attention on 
that, on Mulder's presence behind it, in order not to be overwhelmed by the 
boy in front of her as she had been the day before.  That Mike Van De Kamp was 
in the room with them barely registered on her mind, until he spoke.

"I didn't realize they had doctors working at the FBI."  Not hostile, just 
making conversation as he sat back in the plastic chair in the corner, 
watching her dig through her patent leather bag.

Reorienting herself, she let the question ground her as she found her penlight 
and untangled the stethoscope.  "At the FBI, I was a forensic pathologist.  I 
left and...took some time off, did a new residency.  I'm a pediatric 
neurologist now."

Mike smile gently, inclining his head towards his son.  "Must be better, 
seeing kids all day."

"It is," she said simply, returning his smile.  She liked Mike Van De Kamp, 
and was glad William had ended up with someone like him for a father.  While 
perhaps on paper not who she would have chosen, he was a good man who was 
doing a good job raising a happy, healthy son.  She tucked a few items into 
the pockets of her coat, and turned to William, perched on the edge of the 
conference room table being used for the exam.  "All right, Billy, this 
shouldn't be any different than your annual visit to the doctor's office.  But 
I might ask you to do a few more things, all right?"

"No shots?"  A skeptical eyebrow was raised, one she recognized well.

"No shots.  At the very end, I'll need to take a little bit of blood, but that 
won't hurt at all."

His face wrinkled, and he shifted back a bit farther on the table.

"Don't worry.  Easy stuff first.  Can you take off your sweater for me?"

Despite the good behavior he'd exhibited so far, she was actually pleased to 
see how typical he was when he pulled the brown sweater over his head with one 
arm, and tossed the wadded up mess in the direction of his father.  With a 
soft whuff, it landed on the floor, a few feet short of its goal.

"Guess we need to get you some more practice before basketball starts, Billy."  
His father reached down and scooped up the sweater, effortlessly folding it up 
and sitting it on his leg.

"I was shooting blind!  Doesn't count!"

"Every shot you take counts."  

Scully rolled her eyes and let out a little laugh.  "Why don't you wait and 
have this conversation when you're with Mulder?  He's the basketball fan.  
Follow the light, please."

His eyes tracked the penlight, pupils narrowing in the bright beam, but he 
spoke around her.  "Can I have a hoop for my birthday then?"

"You've got one on the side of the barn already, Billy."

"But I can't dribble on the dirt!  And you said--"

"Can you take a couple deep breaths and be quiet for a minute?"  Scully warmed 
the stethoscope on her palm, then placed it against his smooth back, long for 
his age, she noted.  He was going to be tall, maybe good at basketball.  
"Good.  Do you play basketball at school?"  She stepped back, took his wrist, 
checked his pulse while speaking with him.  Over the past few years, she's 
gotten used to doing this, maintaining a calming patter with children, 
gathering information.

"Just in gym," he said.  "There's not a team 'til high school.  Dad says then, 
though, if I still want to be a vet, maybe I can go stay with Aunt Pam and go 
to school there."

She put her hands out, palms down, intensely curious.  "Put your hands out, 
palms up, and don't let me push them down.  Where does your Aunt Pam live?"  
Mentally crossing her fingers, she hoped for somewhere on the eastern 
seaboard.

"Denver.  Last time we visited, we went to the museum.  It's got dinosaurs, 
mummies and a planetarium!"

Throughout the exam, which revealed nothing out of the ordinary beyond an 
extraordinarily healthy boy with good responses and an inquisitive, pleasant 
mien, she kept up the conversation.  Gathering information eased her mind 
about his life with the Van De Kamps, reassured her that he had the dog and 
pony and trip to Disneyland any child might wish for, without seeming at all 
spoiled, doing chores around the farm.  Never did she think her son would be 
the all-American boy, though her father would have been delighted by it, and 
would have expected nothing less.  

With that melancholy thought, she stepped away from Billy and began returning 
her instruments to her bag.  "You can put your sweater back on now.  And 
you'll both be happy to hear that Billy is a very healthy boy.  From talking 
with him, I'm sure he'll do just as well with Mulder.  If you'll wait here, 
I'll go get him."

"Thanks, Dr. Scully."  Mike shook her hand, and at his nod, Billy rose and 
shook it, too.  The boy then retrieved his sweater and tugged it over his 
head, frizzing his short hair up in a porcupine manner that reminded her of a 
young Mulder.  She smiled then, couldn't help herself, though she refrained 
from the urge to ruffle the hair.

Mulder met her in the hall, wordlessly rested a hand on her shoulder and 
squeezed, just once.  She nodded, looking up at him with a smile and sad eyes.  
There was nothing to say; he'd seen the exam, heard everything that was said.  
He'd been listening to analyze, too, gathering information for himself and 
refining his plan of approach.

Agent Dunham was sitting, sipping a foam cup of coffee, when she entered the 
observation room.  Scully proffered her two vials of blood.  "William's blood 
samples.  I assume you'll be sending them on to Boston for testing.  I'd like 
you to run a DNA test on them as well.  I've got samples from Mulder and 
myself."  She reached into her bag and pulled out the two swabs, bagged and 
labeled.

The swabs passed between them, and they were set aside on the table, along 
with the blood samples.  Dunham, she'd noticed, didn't seem to carry any kind 
of bag with her.  "I'll send these off once Mulder's done."  There was a 
slight inclination of her head towards a metal folding chair, like the one she 
sat in, placed close to the glass.  Instinctively, she knew it was where 
Mulder had sat and watched.  There was some reassurance in settling in to his 
place by the two-way mirror.  

It had not been her tests that worried her; nothing of what made William 
special would show up with a simple physical exam.  Had she access to more 
advanced equipment, perhaps it would have been a different matter.  On some 
level, she had to admit a curiosity regarding what such tests might show.  For 
now, she would have to content herself with whatever Mulder might have devised 
to test both psychological development and parapsychological talents.  

A few feet away, Dunham sat, still, cup still in hand.  It unnerved Scully a 
bit to feel so watched, to know that she, as much as William, was being 
observed and evaluated.  She remembered her first year on the X-files, her own 
studious reports assessing not just their cases, but also Mulder's approach to 
them.  Knowing that Dunham had read some of their old files, she wondered how 
much about their history is known, if she'd read those early files.  Once, she 
was as young as Agent Dunham, but she didn't think the young agent was ever as 
naive as she was the day she walked in the door of the basement office.

The end result of that opened door was on the other side of the glass, where 
Mulder slouched in a chair across from William, Mike Van De Kamp gone from the 
room.  He started with easy questions, some of the same that she'd asked, 
knowing the prior answer, establishing honesty as much as rapport.  She'd 
watched him do it a thousand times, but this time, there was a small 
hesitation, so minute only she would notice, as he interacted with his son.  
It was, she knew, exactly why they shouldn't be the ones doing this, why 
medical professionals didn't treat family.

"Will you play a game with me?" Mulder asked, pulling out a pack of cards.  
The voices are tinny through the speakers, but she heard the similarity in 
their tones nonetheless.  She forgot about Dunham in the room with her, and 
turned to watch.

"I'm good at Rummy."  

Mulder shook his head, and sat a small deck on the table, less than half the 
thickness of a normal pack of cards.  "We're going to try something else.  
Easier than Rummy.  There are sixteen cards in this pile, all the aces and 
face cards from the deck.  You know those, right?"

"Kings, queens, and jacks."

"Right.  I'm going to hold one up, without showing it to you, and I want you 
to tell me which one it is."

The boy's brow furrowed.  "Is this like a magic trick?"

"Not magic.  Just a little game."

"It seems silly.   How would I know?"

"It can be surprising what you know, when you think about it."

"Fine."  Scully heard herself in that answer, and she knew Mulder heard it 
too, from the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay, Billy."  Mulder held up one card, angled so it wouldn't be reflected in 
the glass.

The boy stared for a moment, shrugged, and said, "King."
 
Mulder turned the card, passing it past the window so that they could see it, 
before laying it face up on the table.  "Jack."

Scully knew that this wasn't quite how one normally tested alleged psychic 
abilities.  The images were normally random; someone with basic card-counting 
skills would have a significantly greater than 25% chance of being proven 
psychic by such a test, but it was a starting place.  Pulling out a note pad, 
she kept a running tally of William's hits and misses.

It also tested the boy's intelligence, she realized, as by the end he seemed 
to realize that logic limited the number of cards left.  Both of his final 
guesses were right, leaving him with seven right answers.  Nearly 45%, though 
she wondered if the last two should really count.  Either way, he came out 
statistically ahead of the 25% he should have guessed.

"Very good, Billy," said Mulder, flipping over the last card, then sweeping up 
the deck and reshuffling them.  "We're going to try that again, only this 
time, I'm going to have you hold my hand while guessing."

With some reluctance, the boy reached across the table and took Mulder's 
offered hand.    Mulder picked up the top card, guarding it, staring intently 
between the face on the card and the face across the table.  "Queen.  A red 
one," said Billy, after a moment, his eyes growing wide, gasping a shaky 
breath.

Mulder flipped the card down on the table.  Queen of Diamonds.

***