A Hint of Resurrection (6/7)
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 6
***

The EEG started off more simply than any of her prior experiences with 
Walter's experiments would have led her to believe.  He had Billy sit quietly, 
eyes closed, as the room remained silent for nearly five minutes.  Olivia 
hadn't been aware he could remain silent that long.  Then the additional 
stimulation had begun; Billy had been asked to open his eyes, to recite the 
alphabet, to count to twenty, to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, to write his 
address, to put a simple puzzle together.  Walter had stood nodding at the 
results, while Scully seemed unimpressed.

Then Walter sent Peter to retrieve an enormous bag of candy.  "All right, 
Billy.  What's your favorite?  I've got Red Vines, peanut butter cups, 
peppermints, butterscotch, jelly beans.  Oh, and those delicious peach rings."

"Peanut butter cups."

"All right.  Please help yourself."  He returned to the results monitor, 
nodding once more.  "Yes, very good.  Now, Peter, come take this.  I'll tell 
you what I want you to eat, while holding Billy's hand."

Peter moved with some reluctance, eyeing both Walter and the candy with some 
skepticism.  

"Don't react.  Just eat one of the peppermints."

Digging into the bag of sweets, Peter, pulled out the mints and unwrapped one.  
"You bought these at the store, right?"

"I bought them," Astrid reassured him.

Shrugging, he popped the candy into his mouth.  The process was repeated again 
with a butterscotch, before Walter moved on to asking him to sample from the 
bag of jelly beans.  On the second bean, Olivia noticed him making an odd 
face; on the third, he spit out the candy.  "What the hell are these, Walter?"

"They're every-flavored beans!  They were perfect for this, I think."

"That was horse-radish!"

"And it evoked just the response I was hoping for."  He said this looking at 
Billy, not at Peter.  "Two more things for you, Billy.  Do you play an 
instrument?"

"No, sir--I mean, no, Walter."

"Excellent.  If we could, Astral, will you help please..."  he fumbled with 
the wiring and EEG machine.  "Please follow Peter over to the piano, just 
there, and put your hand on his shoulder while he plays."

Peter settled at the piano bench.  "Any requests?"

"Freebird," drawled Mulder, causing a glare from Scully and a chuckle from 
Peter.  The two men, thought Olivia, would probably get along very well.

There was a silence as Peter tickled a few bass notes out, then grinned.  With 
a crescendo that caused several of those in the room to jump, including Billy, 
he launched into a frenetic piece Olivia didn't recognize.  While Walter and 
Scully seemed absorbed in the EEG results, everyone else in the room was 
focused on Peter's hands, flying on the keys.  Olivia couldn't stop watching, 
though she had no idea what she was seeing or hearing; she was not well-versed 
in music, and had no idea Peter could play like this.

There was quiet when he finished, and she was almost tempted to clap.  It was 
Mike who asked, though, sparing her, "What on earth was that?"  She supposed 
he, like her, had expected something simpler, "Over the Rainbow" or the 
Moonlight Sonata.

Peter grinned sheepishly, hanging his head just a bit over the keys.  
"Stravinsky.  It's from 'The Firebird.'"

Billy turned, releasing his grasp on Peter's shoulder and searching out Mike 
in the crowd.  "Can I take piano lessons when we go home?"

Mike whooped out a laugh.  "Sure, buddy.  But you learn to play like that, 
you'll scare the bison!"

Moving over to the boy's side, Walter led him back over to one of the lab 
tables, leaving Astrid and Scully to keep the mass of wiring from ensnaring 
the rest of the room's occupants, or sweeping a mass of pipettes and beakers 
onto the floor.  "Come here, one last thing.  It might be a little 
unpleasant."

A row of three covered boxes sat on the countertop.  Walter lifted the sheet 
covering them to reveal three caged rats.  Olivia hoped fervently that he 
wasn't going to do something to the rats.

"These three are all parts of clinical trials going on here.  Each has 
something wrong with it, something you can't see."

"You want me to tell you what's wrong with them."  The boy didn't look up, but 
stood, studying the caged animals.

"That's right.  You can reach in and touch them, I've been assured they're 
quite friendly.  I believe there may be some kind of fruit we could use as a 
treat...."

"That's okay.  My friend Aiden has a pet rat.  I'm not scared of them."

After the rollicking piano music, the lab's silence seemed even more profound 
as Billy opened the first cage and picked up the white rat within.  The animal 
rested placidly in his hands, nose twitching.  "Her stomach hurts.  Not like 
too many sweets, but like something too spicy."

The second rat had been moving constantly in the cage and it took a moment to 
capture it.  Counterintuitively, he said, "He's tired."

The third rat allowed itself to be picked up and held, and appeared quite 
friendly.  For several moments, the boy petted it, looking puzzled.  "I don't 
think there's anything wrong with this one."

Walter nodded like a bobblehead.  "Yes, very good.  Always have a control!  
That's a perfectly healthy young rat.  And you have correctly identified rats 
from an ulcer study and a sleep deprivation experiment."  

"And what's all this tell you?"  Mike had risen and made his way over to the 
table of rats, one hand coming to rest on Billy's shoulder, as the boy 
continued petting the rodent.

"Well, this gives us a place to start.  We know what areas of the brain appear 
to be hyper-activated when accomplishing certain tasks or sensing certain 
things."

"What does that help?"

"It gives us a place to start, Mr. Van De Kamp," said Scully, still looking 
almost incredulously at the EEG printout.  "Billy seems to display activity in 
the brain in a way that implies he's actually experiencing what someone or 
something else is feeling.  For instance, when Peter was playing, we'd 
normally expect to see activity in the auditory cortex of a listener.  
However, he shows not just this, but increased activity in areas like the 
parietal lobe and motor cortex, as we'd expect to see in a reading of someone 
actually playing.  Billy also displays an astonishing amount of activity in 
the corpus callosum."

"Indeed," agreed Walter.  "It's most unusual.  I believe the next step should 
be imaging."

"Which will illustrate the where, but not explain how," protested Mulder.

"Unless the increased activity in these areas, which are often the areas that 
control emotion, cognition, and autonomic functions, is the reason why.  If we 
know what areas are most active, we may know what talents he possesses."  

"Don't we already know that?  Isn't it why he's here?"  Mike looked confused.

"We established something unusual was going on, which is why we arranged for 
you to come here," clarified Astrid.  "But this will allow us to understand 
the extent of Billy's abilities.  He may be able to do things he doesn't 
realize."

"Imaging won't hurt him?"

"No, it won't," reassured Scully, who looked rather relieved herself.  "If 
Agent Dunham could call over to the medical center and see if we can arrange 
for use of the fMRI, that could tell us a great deal."  Her voice sounded 
steady, but she quickly slipped out of the room, Mulder following after.  

"In the meantime, there are some puzzles around here that you may enjoy.  
Unless you'd rather have some more candy?"  Walter was digging through a pile 
of boxes, Red Vine in one hand.

*

Scully sat on an old wooden bench, head down, drawing long, deep breaths.  He 
approached cautiously, halting when he knew the tips of his sneakers would be 
just inside her field of view.  He let her have a few moments in silence 
before asking, "Scully?  Talk to me."

When she looked up at him, Mulder almost regretted asking.  Frightened blue 
eyes stared up at him, edged with wrinkles of worry.  She extended a hand and 
tugged gently, urging him to join her on the bench, and he came without 
hesitation.  In this public place, he refrained from pulling her into his arms 
the way her expression would have warranted at another time, and instead 
settled for the reassuring press of his side against hers, from shoulder to 
thigh, fingers interlacing and resting in the valley where their knees met.

"I've only seen EEG readings approaching anything like that once before."  She 
looked him in the eye.  "Yours.  After you were exposed to that artifact, when 
you were hospitalized.  But your increased brain activity wasn't specific the 
way William's seems to be."  Sucking in a deep breath, she paused, and he knew 
that she was trying to reconcile the science she held as truth with the facts 
of what she knew he had experienced.  "Yours, though, showed increased 
generalized activity.  His is very obviously specific."

"Specific to what he's perceiving from someone, or something, else."  He 
couldn't help but clarify.  "He's not getting an undisciplined static of 
information bombarding him.  He has to chose it."

Haltingly, she asked, "Do you think this is..inherited?  And simply refined 
because he's lived with it all his life and adapted to it?  Because genetics 
don't work that way, Mulder.  You don't pass on something that's acquired."

He shrugged the shoulder not pressed against hers.  "Well, the potential 
exists in all of us for more or less functionality in the brain, as you well 
know.  Developmentally, activities like exposure to music or language can 
affect the way the brain matures."  He drummed his fingers on her thigh for a 
moment, trying to figure out how to explain his theory.  "Some of the things 
we were exposed to over the years, we really never understood the mechanisms 
of.  Why couldn't retrovirus exposure at some point have changed the DNA I was 
able to pass on?  Even though women are born with a finite number of eggs, men 
continually are producing sperm.  So while anything you were exposed to 
wouldn't have been passed on to our son--"

"What are you talking about?  Your son?"

Their heads snapped to the left, to see Mike Van De Kamp standing in the 
doorway to the lab, William just behind him and Peter Bishop to his left.  
Mulder fought the urge to gape like a cartoon character, while he felt Scully 
draw a deep breath beside him and straighten her posture.  It wasn't fair to 
leave this to her, but he knew she'd be much more tactful about it than he 
would be.

"Mr. Van De Kamp, I think it's time that Mulder and I had a conversation with 
you privately.  If there's somewhere we could talk, perhaps Mr. Bishop could 
keep an eye on Billy for a bit?"

There was a flash of discomfort across Peter's face, so fast that anyone other 
than a behavioral psychologist wouldn't have noticed it, then that urbane mask 
slipped back in place.  "Of course.  There are a couple classrooms down the 
hall that should be empty at this hour.  Billy can hang out here in the lab."  
Man and boy vanished back behind the heavy wood and glass doors, leaving the 
trio alone in the hall.

It seemed the time to contribute something to the confrontation, so Mulder 
rose and gestured down the hallway.  "Shall we?"  He led the way, not looking 
back to see if they followed, though he knew Scully would.  Opening the door 
to classroom B110, he felt a pity for the students who had to suffer classes 
in the dim, chilly room.  He awkwardly settled in behind one of the student 
desks in the front row, unwilling to take the psychological advantage of a 
position at the professor's desk.  Scully, however, was, and settled for 
resting against the edge of the old wood desk.  Mike Van De Kamp looked 
between the two of them, face a mixture of anger and concern, and seemed to be 
considering standing, before finally sitting down two desks away from Mulder.

Scully tapped one nail on the polished edge of the desk before beginning, "Mr. 
Van De Kamp, there's a story you need to hear."  Scully was not, however, a 
storyteller but a recounter of facts, and Mulder let her recite the history of 
their William to him.  To a third party, it must have sounded cooly rational, 
but he heard the emotion under her careful words.  Her voice did break, 
finally, as she concluded, "And so I made the decision to give him up, 
anonymously and confidentially."

The room was quiet after she concluded, the heavy silence inside broken only 
by the sound of coeds outside the high windows.  Mike was looking at the pair 
of them, staring, as if seeing their faces contrasted with his son's for the 
first time, and processing everything Scully had said.  "You believe my Billy 
is the son you gave up?"

"No," said Mulder, breaking his silence.  "We know he is.  Agent Dunham has 
the adoption records." 

"I thought those were sealed?"

"They were.  But that doesn't mean they can't be accessed, by the right 
person."  Or wrong one, he thought.

Mike was quiet, but his silence was interrupted by noise from the hall, 
rattling wheels and the soft sound of Astrid's voice, warning someone to be 
careful.

"What about Billy?  Do I tell him?  You don't...this isn't because you 
want....  You're not going to take him from me?"  Anger tinged his voice.

"No, we're not,"  said Scully, firmly.  "Does he know he's adopted?"

"Yes, but we never made a big deal out of it.  I don't know how he would react 
to finding out about his biological parents."

The sound of young laughter echoed into the room from the hallway, where the 
clatter of wheels had multiplied.

"We're glad he ended up with someone like you, Mike," said Mulder.  "He's 
obviously a happy, well-adjusted kid, which is something we don't want to 
interfere with.  But speaking for myself, I'd like to be able to tell him who 
I am, maybe come visit on vacation."

Mike slumped back in the creaky wood desk chair.  "You don't think he'd be 
upset to find out that you're his parents, but that you don't want him back?"

"It's not that we don't want him.  There's nothing I want more.  But I also 
can't take him away from the only home he's ever known, where he's happy.  
When I spoke with him last week, he mentioned going away for high school.  
Maybe then, if he's gotten to know us a bit more, if you want him to...."

"I'm sure admission to my former prep school could be easily arranged," 
mentioned Mulder, the idea springing to the fore for the first time.  He'd 
managed to forget a lot of those years.  For a normal kid like William, it 
might be a great experience.  "If that's something you both want."

"It's a lot to think about.  I don't know about high school, but I don't 
object to him knowing where he came from.  How far we want that to go, I'm not 
sure.  But he deserves the truth."  Mike rose and headed for the door.  When 
he opened it, they saw Billy go whizzing by on a pair of old metal roller 
skates, Walter creeping along after.  After the grief he'd gotten over the 
years, Mulder couldn't believe the FBI was paying for this.

"Billy?  Stop goofing around and come in here, please."

The air seemed to suck out of the corridor as skates squealed to a stop, and 
those on from the Fringe team turned to stare at Mulder, Scully, and Mike.  
Walter, on skates too, skidded into a bench and dropped onto it in a heap.  
Mulder saw Scully nod incrementally towards Olivia Dunham, who responded in 
kind, the hint of a smile on her face.  

"Is everything okay, Dad?"  Billy looked suddenly concerned.  He skated 
towards the doorway where they stood.

"Yes, we just need to talk to you."

"It's about them, isn't it?"  He waved at Mulder and Scully, looking less 
troubled.

"It is," said Mike, nodding in affirmation.

The hallway was quiet, and the squeaky halt of the practically antique skates 
reverberated loudly.  Billy's voice seemed like a whisper after it.  "I 
already know."  He didn't look at any of them, just stared down, seemingly 
fixated on the worn leather strap holding the skate onto his sneaker.

"What do you know?  And how?"  Mike looked up sharply, glaring down the hall 
at Agent Dunham.

"Back home, when Mr. Mulder had me hold his hand to see the cards, I could 
feel other stuff, too."

"Billy, I'm sorry," began Mulder, trying to find the words.  He was not 
normally at a loss for them.  "If I thought about it, I never would have done 
that.  It's not the way we wanted you to find out."

The boy shook his head.  "I know.  It was okay.  A little scary, because you 
feel a lot.  But cool to know who you are."

Mike crouched down, eye level with him.  "You're not upset?  Do you have any 
questions?"

"You didn't know," he said, shaking his head again.  He turned to Mulder and 
Scully then, staring up with sharp blue eyes, hard as sapphires.  "Why?"

Mulder could hear Scully swallow beside him, then answered, "Let's go sit down 
and talk, all right?"

As Mulder, Scully, and Billy filed into the classroom, Mike remained in the 
hall, carefully closing the door behind them.  Though the frosted glass, 
Mulder could see his silhouette, standing guard.  Billy suddenly looked less 
docile, closer to a tantrum or tears as he sat stiffly at the first desk by 
the door.  Scully sat beside him, pulling her desk almost close enough to 
touch his.  Mulder reluctantly dragged the professor's desk chair around, 
sitting awkwardly in front of them.

"William--Billy," fumbled Scully, looking as nervous as Mulder had ever seen 
her.  "Mulder and I, we used to be FBI agents, like Agent Dunham.  We worked 
together for a long time, and made a lot of enemies.  But we also fell in 
love.  We never thought we could have a child, because of some things that had 
happened to me in the line of duty.  So we were thrilled when you came along.  
But just after you were born, Mulder had to go into hiding, and there were 
several attempts to kidnap or harm you."

The boy's eyes grew wide, and he looked as if he wanted to interrupt with a 
question, but thought better and remained silent.

"These were people," said Mulder, picking up the simplified story from Scully, 
who was obviously having difficulty.  "People who had tried to kill Scully and 
me for years, and had almost succeeded.  More than once.  We knew they 
wouldn't stop until they had you, because they thought then that you might 
possess the kind of abilities we're seeing now that you do."

"But what did they want me to do for them?"  He looked confused, which was at 
least an improvement over angry or upset.

"We don't know, but we thought it was related to--"

"We think it might have been related to experiments done on Mulder a long time 
ago.  At one time, something was done to him that allowed him to hear people's 
thoughts and feelings, but everyone's, all at once."

"Whoa.  That would be too much."

"It was."  He didn't elaborate, or bother correcting Scully's explanation of 
why they feared for his well-being as a baby.  Springing parents on him was 
enough for one day; the story of a coming universal showdown would have been 
too much, even for him.

"So you put me in hiding too?  Why didn't you send me to hide with Mulder?"

"By that time," Scully said, seeming to gain reassurance, "Mulder was close to 
being captured, and it wasn't safe for you to go with him.  You were still 
just a baby.  It was better for you to go somewhere else, somewhere we didn't 
even know about.  We both ended up on the run and hiding for a couple years.  
As much as I missed you, and prayed for you every day, I was thankful knowing 
you were somewhere safe and stable."

"Are people going to try and hurt me, now that they know about me?"  The 
fearful look was back on his face, and he cut a glance at the shadow of Mike, 
still just outside the door.

Mulder shook his head slowly.  "I don't think so.  The people who wanted you 
were...ruthless.  If they'd wanted you, they would have found you eventually.  
From what Agent Dunham has said, they are exploring other options, now."

"Then why am I here?  Are you taking me back?"

That, thought Mulder, was a pair of questions for which there existed no good 
answer.  Scully, being Scully, would try, though.  "You're here voluntarily, 
Billy, which means that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do.  
The how and why of your abilities is something we'd like to better understand, 
but that's not going to change the fact that they exist.  And no, we're not 
going to take you away from your dad, but we'd like to see you sometimes, if 
that's okay."

"Like my friend Andy goes and spends holidays with his dad?"

"Maybe.  That's up to you and your dad to decide."  The words stuck in his 
throat just a little.

****