by Kel
ckelll@hotmail.com

http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Realm/9374/

Rating: G
Category: X

ARCHIVE: Please let me know.

Summary: The bud doesn't fall far from the spud.

Spoilers: Small Potatoes

Disclaimer:  We know who owns them and we know who made them real.  No
FBI agents or network executives were harmed in the making of this fic.

Thanks to Erin, Michelle Kiefer, and Tre for reading and suggestions.
Thanks to Tesla, who looked at the first draft and said, "This isn't
finished."  Thanks especially to Linda, who read one draft after
another.

Feedback:  Feedback is more than half the fun.  Please drop me a line so
I don't think I'm talking to myself.
 
 
 

Small Fries
1/3
 
 
 

Martinsburg Elementary School
Martinsburg, West Virginia
 

Recess was just long enough for a good round of hide-and-seek or
kickball, but today Michael didn't have time for games.  He was going to
the secret clubhouse for a meeting of the Butt Club.

Michael was a first-grader in the Martinsburg Elementary School, a
public school that was recognized as a paragon of excellence. Principal
Burnside said that at every assembly, and while Michael wasn't sure what
it meant, he knew it had something to do with why he had to wear a
jacket and tie every day.

Michael liked first grade way better than kindergarten, and it was all
because of Mrs. Cooper.  She was the best teacher he'd ever had and
probably the best teacher in the whole world.  The bad thing was that
she was in big trouble, and it was all because of the Butt Club.

Mrs. Burnside said that the first grade class was disruptive and
unruly.  The art teacher said they were rude and the music teacher
called them fresh and bratty.  Mrs. Burnside said they reflected badly
upon their parents, their community, and especially Mrs. Cooper.
Everyone hated them, except Mrs. Cooper.

Maybe it wasn't just the Butt Club and their tricks.

Maybe it was the Greavy twins.  They played tricks too.  Like when
Andrew told the lunch lady he never got any chocolate pudding, and then
really it was Dylan who didn't get any, 'cause Andrew got two.

Or it could have been Gabrielle Nelligan's fault. She dressed like the
other girls, with a blue skirt and a white shirt, but her hair was
funny. Two braids wrapped up into meatballs on top of her head.  She had
a big mouth that made grown-ups angry.

The bell sounded for recess, and the children marched from the the
stuffy building into the sunshine of the schoolyard.  At the sound of
the second bell, the line scattered.  In a six-year-old's display of
nonchalance, Michael strolled hurriedly to the far end of the yard.
Matthew and Christopher were heading there too, tossing a ball back and
forth to disguise their purpose.  Joshua must have beaten them all.  He
was probably already inside the clubhouse.

Once all four boys were in the shed, their meeting began.

"I think Mrs. Cooper's in trouble," Michael said.  "She got called to
the principal's office again."

"But she's so nice," Joshua protested.  "Tons nicer than Mrs.
Pandermarck."

Mrs. Pandermarck was the school's irritable kindergarten teacher.

"You're the one keeps getting her in trouble," Christopher said. "Making
faces in gym class."

"You and Matthew were making faces in music," Joshua said. "Making fun
of the music teacher."

Michael shuffled guiltily,  He'd seen what Matthew and Christopher had
done and he'd joined in.  It was so funny, how the music teacher stared
and gaped and then shook his head as if that would fix what he'd seen
with his eyes.

"No more making faces!" Michael ordered the others.  "Cause what if they
fire Mrs. Cooper and we get another crabbypants like Miss Pandermarck to
be our teacher?"

"You think it's us getting Mrs. Cooper in trouble?  Cause we're always
good in her class," Joshua said.

"You know what Mrs. Burnside said.  We are... disruptive and unruly."
Michael had to pause to remember the two unfamiliar words, but he
uttered them with the same depth of conviction the principal had given
them.

Christopher nodded.

"It makes Mrs. Cooper look bad," he said.

There was a tiny metalic groan from the hinges of the shed door.

"Hey, somebody's out there!" cried Matthew.  "A spy!"

"Must be Erica Carlyle!" Christopher whispered.

If there was one kid in the first grade who wasn't disruptive and
unruly, it was Erica Carlyle.  Erica was perfect.

The creaky door swung open a few inches.  Michael was relieved to see
that it wasn't Erica, who was the biggest snitch in the world.  It was
Gabrielle.  She was weird, but she knew how to keep her mouth shut when
she wanted to.

"This is a private meeting," Michael said.  "Members only, and no
girls!"

"You're not the boss of me," Gabrielle protested.

"This is our club and you can't come in," Christopher said.

"I know all about your club," Gabrielle announced.  "If you don't let me
join I'm tellin'."

"She don't know nothing," Matthew opined.  "And she can't join because
it's a special club."

"I'm just as special as you are," Gabrielle sniffed.  "Wanna see?"

To the shock of Michael and the other boys, Gabrielle turned around,
flounced up her skirt, and pulled down her panties.

Christopher was breathing in little gasps,  trying not to cry.  Joshua
was whimpering.   Michael was surprised he was able to speak at all.

"Pull your skirt down!" he shouted.

"Then I'm in the club?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yeah," said Christopher.  "Just cover up your butt."

Gabrielle pulled her panties back into place, keeping her back to the
boys as she rearranged her clothing.  When she turned around, she
had a big smile.

"Now you boys gotta show me yours," she announced.   "You gotta prove
that you're special too."

Michael wondered how she knew that rule.  She must be a pretty good spy
after all.  He really didn't like showing his butt even to the other
boys, but rules were rules.  He was lucky, because his belt was Velcro.
He opened it easily while Matthew, Joshua, and Christopher were still
struggling with their buckles.

"You ready?" he asked.  He didn't want to be the only one with his pants
down.  The others nodded.  Together, they turned around, bent over, and
lowered their pants.

"Pick up your shirt a little," Gabrielle said.  Michael wasn't sure if
she meant him, but he tugged up his shirt tail.

"Well, okay then," Gabrielle said, but before Michael and the other boys
could pull up their pants, there was a distinctly adult voice coming
from the doorway.

"Boys, fix your pants," Mrs.Cooper ordered them reproachfully.

Big, big trouble, thought Michael.  Probably the worst trouble any kid
had ever been in ever.  And then it got worse.  There was another
grown-up with Mrs. Cooper

"This is beyond anything I even imagined!" Principal Burnside shrieked.
"Mrs. Cooper, you're fired!"

= = = = =

ACT I

Residence of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis Cooper
Martinsburg, West Virginia
 

"My wife is a good teacher.  She taught six years in Hatboro and you can
check with them," Curtis said.

Scully hadn't recognized the name when Curtis Cooper called, but now
that she saw him she remembered his face.  Of course the
deputy uniform helped too.

"Why did you switch schools, Mrs. Cooper?" Mulder asked.

"I moved to Martinsburg when we got married.  I hated to leave my old
school, but the commute was too much," Jessica said.

"They had it in for her from the beginning," Curtis said.  "Always
treated her like an outsider."

Jessica shrugged a little, as if to downplay her husband's assessment.

"Principal Burnside favors the conservative, traditional approach, and
my experience was in a progressive environment," she explained.

"Is that why you were fired?" Scully asked.  She noticed Jessica flinch
at the word "fired."

"They gave her the first grade.  The worst kids in the whole school,"
Curtis said.

"They are not!" Jessica protested.

"Well, the principal calls them 'disruptive and unruly,' but I have a
feeling there's more to it than that," he asserted.

"Are they disruptive, Mrs. Cooper?" Mulder asked.

"They're imaginative.  They're playful," she answered.

"They play doctor in the equipment shed," Curtis added.

"Is that why you called the FBI?"  She turned from her husband to the
two agents.  "X-files.  Are you some kind of special sex-crimes
division?"

"Nothing like that, honey.  These agents were here in town when all that
crazy stuff was going on.  Before we met," he said.

"We specialize in crazy stuff," Mulder explained.  "Eddie Van Blundht
was one of our more memorable cases.  Wouldn't you agree, Agent Scully?"

"By all reports, Eddie has been a model prisoner," Agent Scully said
after a long silence.

Jessica recognized the name.  Her husband had told her about a large,
dangerous prisoner who had ambushed him and knocked him out.

"There were five of those monkey babies," Curtis said.

"They'd be about six years old now," said Scully.  "Were any of those
children in your class, Mrs. Cooper?"

The two agents leaned forward, eyes fixed on her face as they waited for
her answer, but Jessica was too offended to reply.

"Monkey babies?" Jessica repeated.  "You call them monkey babies?"

Mulder exchanged glances with Scully, and then he rephrased the
question.

"Were any of the children in your class born with caudal appendages?" he
asked.

"I don't have access to the children's medical records," Jessica
answered.

"Let's see... Nelligan?  Or Nieman?  Scully, do you remember any of the
other names?" Mulder asked.  He rubbed his hands together
impatiently.

"Agent Mulder, there is only one first grade class.  Of course I taught
Gabrielle Nelligan and Michael Nieman," she said.

"Did you notice anything different about those children?" Scully asked
quietly.

"I notice something different about every child, because every child is
different," Jessica insisted.  "I only wish that the Martinsburg
Elementary School could respect and accept those differences."

Curtis patted his wife's hand.

"My wife's never seen them do anything out of the ordinary.  But if you
listen to the other teachers, you'll hear a lot of complaints
about 'making faces,'" he said.

"Making faces!" Jessica repeated.  "As if that's a crime."

= = = = =

"Six-year old shapeshifters.  That would be wild," Mulder said.

His driving was impeccable, but when they had to slow for traffic or
stop for a light, he would tap his fingers on the wheel or shift around
in the seat.  After all these years he still lit up at the chance to
encounter some truly beyond-the-pale phenomenon.

"Six-year-old shapeshifters would present gargantuan ethical and medical
dilemmas," Scully replied.

"Party pooper," he snorted.

"Seriously, Mulder.  I recommended medication to control Eddie Van
Blundht, but he's a convicted criminal," she said. "The use of drugs to
control behavior in children is controversial at best."

"You might even call it a hot potato."  He raised his eyebrows, inviting
her to appreciate his joke.  "But your point is well taken.  How do you
keep the Tater Tots out of trouble?"

"I'm still hoping these are ordinary children," she said.

"Making faces, Scully.  Sound familiar?" Mulder asked.

They parked by the school, and Scully was taken aback by the sight of
the children at play.

"Is this a public school or an MBA program?" Mulder asked.

"Some studies show that a conservative dress code can enhance learning
and improve behavior," Scully said.

"It would appear that it also enforces traditional gender-stereoptypes,"
Mulder observed.

There was a distinct separation of the sexes, as Mulder had noted.
Little girls in pleated skirts skipped rope or hopscotched, while boys
in shirtsleeves and ties played catch or basketball.

"There's nothing like a skirt to keep you off the jungle gym," Scully
said.

Mulder sucked in a big, noisy breath and looked her over up and down.

"Hm," he said.

"Stop it right now," she said.  How had her innocent comment triggered
Mulder's libido?  She didn't want to think about it because it might do
the same for hers.

"I stopped," he assured her, but he was chewing on his lip and she
wasn't convinced.

"Quick--why are we here?"  she quizzed him.  They were about to
interview the principal of the Martinsburg School, and Scully didn't
want Mulder gazing out the window imagining God knows what about the
playground equipment.

"Six years ago five babies were born, all fathered by a man with the
ability to transform himself, in appearance and voice, into someone
else. We want to ascertain if the children have some of that same
ability," Mulder said in a monotone.

"Very good," Scully said, although his languid drone didn't sound quite
as focused as she would have liked.

"Scully," Mulder asked dreamily, "what about the swings?"

= = = = =

Mrs. Cooper was gone and Miss Panasci took over.  Usually she taught
art, even though she could hardly see, and health, even though everyone
knew she smoked cigarettes.  She wasn't as interesting as Mrs. Cooper,
but she wasn't mean or anything.  Michael thought she was probably
tired.  She was an old lady, even older than Mrs. Cooper, and she wasn't
used to teaching the same kids all day long.

The whole class missed Mrs. Cooper.  Christopher was the one who thought
of a way they could get her to come back.

"If we're real bad, the principal will see that it wasn't Mrs. Cooper's
fault," he said.  "We just have to be more bad than we were before."

Miss Panasci didn't seem to care if you talked during lessons, as long
as you weren't too noisy.  It was coming up on the time for K through 3
recess, but the storage shed was always locked these days.  If the club
was going to form a plan, they'd have to do it in the classroom.

"I don't want to show my butt no more," Joshua said.  "If I ever do that
again, my mom says no TV for a week and I can forget about
Disney World."

Michael didn't want to show his butt again either, but that would be
hard to top, if they were proving how bad they could be.

"We'll make faces," said Christopher.  "When Mrs. Burnside comes into
the classroom, we'll all be Joshua."

"Why me?" Joshua asked.

"I think cause you don't make faces as good as the rest of us," Matthew
explained.

"You just have to practice more," Michael said kindly.

"I know what I'm gonna do.  I'm gonna bust up Mrs. Burnside's car,"
Gabrielle declared.

"Wow," said Joshua.

"Won't you get a whoopin'?" asked Matthew.

Matthew was always talking about getting a whoopin'.  Once Michael had
asked him what it was, and Matthew didn't know.  Just that it was
something you wouldn't want to get.

"Nuh-uh I'm not gonna get a whoopin'," Gabrielle said confidently.
"Cause everyone's gonna see that it was Erica Carlyle who did it."

Erica Carlyle, the most perfect kid in the whole school. She never wore
pants, not even on weekends or school holidays.  She could write her
name in script and play the piano.

Matthew started laughing, that cartoon laugh of his that sounded like,
"A-yuck-a-yuck-a-yuck."  The other boys were quiet, almost solemn.

Everything they'd done before was kid stuff.  Imitating the music
teacher, playing quadruplets, making faces.  They gazed in admiration at
the the only girl in the club, and the newest member.

"Awesome," said Christopher.

= = = = =

The main office of the Martinsburg School was a bustling place, and
Principal Burnside was a busy woman.  One of the harried secretaries
assured Scully she would inform Mrs. Burnside that the FBI wished a few
minutes of her valuable time. Scully waited on a wooden bench while
Mulder paced and explored, reading the names on the mail slots and the
postings on the bulletin boards.

A nervous boy with downcast eyes joined Scully on the bench, then a
little girl with trembling lips.  Adults arrived as well, some anxious,
some angry.  A tallish woman in a blue cardigan emerged from a side
office and nodded brusquely at one of the men on the bench.  He seemed
to gulp before obeying the summons.

"Was that Mrs. Burnside?" Scully asked the child next to her. He nodded
without looking up. Mulder finished perusing the notices and made his
way over to the bench.

"Hey, what are you in for?" he asked the two young miscreants
sympathetically.

"I can't find my library book," the boy answered in a guilty whisper.

"That's rough," Mulder said, turning his attention to the girl.

"Mrs. Pandermarck said I was talking, but I wasn't talking," she said,
sniffling a little.  "Melanie was talking.  I was only answering."

"I see," said Mulder.

Mrs. Burnside emerged from her office, followed by the man she'd
summoned inside minutes before.  As he shuffled away she pointed at the
little library felon to Scully's left.

"Good luck," Mulder said pleasantly.  The boy rose to meet his fate, and
Mulder took his place on the bench.

"Mrs. Burnside runs a tight ship," Scully commented.

"I can't wait to mess with her head," said Mulder.

Scully knew she should try to discourage him, but she liked the idea
herself. She'd expected the principal to be an old battle-ax, but Mrs.
Burnside was a young battle-ax.  Her dress and demeanor seemed to
suggest that she was a woman of high, rigid standards who was constantly
offended by the flawed, chaotic world around her.

The bookless boy looked unharmed when Mrs. Burnside dismissed him, and
the kindergarten girl survived her meeting as well.

Mrs. Burnside stood in her doorway, surveying the people who awaited her
attention.  She crooked a finger at Mulder and he smiled jauntily.

Scully was prepared to let Mulder take the lead in the interview.  He'd
probably start with some open-ended questions before focusing in on the
Van Blundht children.  Or maybe he'd ask about the problems that led to
Mrs. Cooper's dismissal.  She never really knew with Mulder.

"I haven't seen you here before," Mrs. Burnside said.

"It's nice to finally meet you," said Mulder.  Scully smiled pleasantly.

"You must be Erica's parents," Mrs. Burnside said.

"How do you know that?" asked Mulder pleasantly.

What an opening, thought Scully.  Later Mulder would deny that they'd
lied to the principal; they had merely failed to correct her.

Mrs. Burnside smiled.  Not a warm smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Just an educated guess, Mr. Carlyle," she said.  "Your daughter has
apparently inherited your poise and grooming."  She included Scully in
her approving nod.

"I'm sure Erica would make any parent proud," said Mulder.

"I can also guess the purpose of your visit," Mrs. Burnside said.
"You're concerned about discipline problems in the classroom."

"We're disturbed by some of the stories we hear about the first grade,"
Mulder said.

He practically winked at Scully. =See, I'm telling the truth now.=

"Obviously I'm not at liberty to discuss other children, but I can offer
you some general reassurance.  On further investigation, an incident
that at first seemed to signal precocious sexual activity turned out to
be something different," Mrs. Burnside said.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Scully.

Mulder gave her a tiny nod, welcoming her active participation in his
deception.

Mrs. Burnside pursed her lips.

"Suppose a group of children were comparing appendix scars.  You
wouldn't consider that to be sexual, would you?" she asked.

"Appendix scars?  Really?  All five children?" Mulder asked.

"It's a hypothetical example, Mr. Carlyle.  I can't comment any
further," Mrs. Burnside said.

"We had other concerns about the first grade class," Mulder said.

He's pushing it, Scully thought.  Unless they'd lucked out and little
Erica happened to be a first-grader, Mrs. Burnside was going to become
suspicious.

"Of course your daughter's conduct has always been exemplary. She's an
inspiration to the other children," the principal said. "I'm sure the
rest of the class will fall into step, now that they have a good
teacher."

He is spooky, Scully reflected.  He had no way of knowing that Erica the
Exemplary was in first grade.

"Mrs. Burnside, the sad fact is that the behavior of the first grade
class has only deteriorated since the removal of Mrs. Cooper," Mulder
said accusingly.

"With time and patience, every child in the class will be as mature and
well-mannered as your daughter," the principal promised.

At that moment the office door burst open.  Mrs. Burnside whipped her
head around to confront the offending intruder.

"What's the meaning of this, Miss Panasci?" she demanded.

"S-s-orry," Miss Panasci stammered.

This was the teacher who had inherited the first grade class when Mrs.
Cooper was fired, Scully remembered.  She looked like some 1950s' ideal
of the school marm, except for her nicotine-stained fingers.

"Well?" Mrs. Burnside asked.

"Erica Carlyle took a baseball bat to your car, Principal Burnside.  She
cracked your windshield!" Miss Panasci exclaimed.

"Miss Panasci!  Erica's mother and father are right here.  Do you
honestly expect them to believe that Erica would ever do such a thing?"
Mrs. Burnside asked.

"But I saw her.  Half the school saw her," Miss Panasci protested.  A
bratty little voice behind her confirmed the misdeed.

"I did it all right!"

"Erica Carlyle, get in here!" Mrs. Burnside ordered.

Now what, Scully wondered as the child flounced into the room.

The little girl was dressed in the obligatory blue skirt and white
blouse, although both had seen better days.  Her scuffed sneakers were
untied.  She didn't quite fit the portrait of perfection that Mrs.
Burnside had painted.

"I want you to look your parents in the eye and tell them why you did
it," Mrs. Burnside commanded.

Scully decided to wait until Erica protested that these strangers were
not her parents.  Then she would take out her credentials and claim that
the principal had somehow misunderstood.

The kid, however, seemed unaware of the deception.  She folded her arms
across her chest and addressed herself to Scully and Mulder.

"Mommy, Daddy... I won't be good no more until Mrs. Cooper comes back,"
she announced.

"Child, your grammar!" Mrs. Burnside groaned, as if the double negative
was as appalling as the vandalism.

"Oh... I won't talk good no more neither," said the girl.

"We're taking you home, young lady," Mulder announced.

"That would be best," Mrs. Burnside agreed.

Scully's jaw dropped. She was sure the little girl wouldn't protest.
She thought they were Erica's parents, and that put them safely out of
the category of "stranger."  But Mulder should know better.

Scully caught Mulder's eye and mouthed a desperate and emphatic "No!"
Mulder replied with a knowing half-nod and a placating hand-gesture.

Mulder and Scully walked out of the building with their new daughter
skipping along between them.  A couple of teachers were standing by Mrs.
Burnside's car, studying the cracked windshield.

"Yeah, it was me!" the girl shouted gleefully to them.

The Lariat rental was parked a few rows away.  The child slipped into
the back seat without protest.  Scully closed the door for her, then
took the passenger seat in front.

"We're taking you home, Gabrielle," Mulder said.

Scully held her breath for a second.  Mulder wasn't =always= right.

"But Daddy, I'm Erica!" she answered.  Mulder looked at her
reproachfully.

"You're not Erica," he said firmly.

"Oh yeah?  Well, I bet you ain't Erica's daddy neither," Gabrielle
retorted.

"We're federal agents," Scully said, wondering if Gabrielle had any idea
what that meant.

"Aw, fudge," said Gabrielle.  Her long blond hair turned into twin buns,
and her featured softened and changed as well.  "I wanted
to see where Erica lives."

= = = = =
Small Fries
2/3
by Kel
Disclaimer, etc., with part 1
 
 
 

ACT II

Residence of Amanda Nelligan
 

The Nelligans lived in a shabby neighborhood of tired little bungalows
and run-down shops.  A convenience store on the corner boasted of "Hot
Lotto" and cold beer.

"You can drop me off here," Gabrielle offered helpfully as Mulder parked
in front of her house.

"That's okay," Mulder said.  "We want to talk to your mom."

"I don't want you to get in trouble," Gabrielle said.

"You don't want =us= to get in trouble?" Scully asked. She'd been around
children enough that she was prepared for some twisted kid-logic, but at
the same time she was feeling rather guilty.

"I'm gonna have to tell on you if you come inside," Gabrielle warned
them earnestly. "'Bout how you tricked me into getting in your car."

"That was very wrong of us," Scully said soberly.  She glared at Mulder,
because even by his free-wheeling standards they were playing with
fire.  Mostly she was angry at herself for allowing it to happen.

"Yeah, very wrong," Mulder agreed dryly.  "I think the best thing is if
we all go inside and confess about the bad things we've done."

Gabrielle looked beseechingly at Scully.

"It's okay, sweetie," Scully said.  "We'll all work this out together."

Gabrielle led Mulder and Scully around to the side of her house.  She
looked over her shoulder a few times to show them how pitiful and cute
she was, but when that didn't work she broke into a run.

Gabrielle always used the side entrance, which opened into the kitchen.
Her mother, meanwhile, was occupied in another room....

...The Nelligans' den was full of second-hand furniture, but it was cozy
and comfortable.  Amanda slid the videocassette into the player and sat
down on the couch.

"This is from Gabrielle's first birthday," she told the roguishly
dashing man who sat beside her.

"She sure is cute," he said, reaching his arm around Amanda's shoulder,
pulling her closer.

"I can't believe you want to watch my home movies.  Most people would be
bored to death," Amanda said.

"I like children," he said. "When are you going to let me meet your
daughter, anyway?"

Amanda pulled away a few inches.

"You have to understand, Jack.  All these years it's been just me and
Gabrielle.  I don't know how she'll feel about sharing me with
somebody," she said.

"She'll be fine, once she gets to know me," Jack said, giving Amanda
that look that always made her melt.  "Trust me."

Jack stretched and casually placed his arm over the back of the couch.
Amanda leaned against him a little stiffly, but then something
startled her, and she pulled away.

"There's someone at the door," she said.

"Probably a salesman," Jack said.  "Ignore him."

"No, Jack, the side door.  It must be Gabrielle," she said.

"You said she doesn't get home until three," he protested.

Amanda seemed to hold her breath, and in the quiet they could clearly
hear the squeak of a door, and then a child's voice:

"Mommy, I'm home...."

...The first thing Scully noticed when she followed Gabrielle and Mulder
into the kitchen was the R2D2 cookie jar.  She wondered if it beeped and
whistled when you lifted the lid.

She heard Amanda's flustered voice from another room:

"Just a minute, honey.  Wait in the kitchen."

Amanda wasn't expecting her daughter home this early, Scully remembered.

"Oh my God," she whispered to Mulder.  "She's not alone."

"You still have time to get away," Gabrielle informed them craftily.

"You're scary, kid," Mulder answered, and Gabrielle glared.

"Mommy, I'm hungry!" she called out in a sing-song.

"Nobody's trying to get you into trouble," Scully assured her.  "You
have a gift, Gabrielle, but you mustn't use it to hurt other people."

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue.

"Mommy, I came home in a car with two strangers!" she shrieked.

"You what?" Amanda shrieked back.

"We're cops," Mulder said.  "It's okay to get in the car with us."

Scully found herself siding with Gabrielle on this one.  They were
strangers and they'd tricked her.

"Don't be alarmed, Ms. Nelligan.  We're from the FBI," she shouted with
more self-assurance than she felt.

"You might remember us.  Agents Mulder and Scully," Mulder called.

Gabrielle was frustrated and furious.  Her little shoulders hunched and
her breath huffed out through her nose.

"Mommy!" she bellowed.

"I'm coming," Amanda answered, and a second later there she was.

Amanda hadn't changed at all in six years, Scully thought.  She didn't
look any older than the day she told them that Luke Skywalker was the
father of her baby.

"What's going on?" Amanda demanded as Gabrielle wrapped herself around
her mother's legs.

"They fooled me, Mommy.  They made me get into their car," Gabrielle
said. Tears welled in her eyes and she started to sniffle.

"Why are you here?" Amanda asked.  "Is this something about...
E-D-D-I-E?"

"It might be," Scully confirmed.

"Isn't he in prison?" Amanda asked.  "For what he did to... his
victims?"

"He's been transferred to a halfway house, but he's still under close
supervision," Scully said.

"This doesn't involve him directly," Mulder added.

"Mommy, the strangers are scaring me," Gabrielle whimpered.

"It's all right, baby.  I won't let anyone hurt you," Amanda promised.

"Ask your daughter what happened in school today," Scully suggested.

Amanda looked at the two agents with a mix of hostility and suspicion,
and then kneeled down so that she was eye-level with Gabrielle.

"Tell me what happened in school today," she said.

Gabrielle's lips quivered.

"Everyone saw Erica Carlyle cracking the glass on Mrs. Burnside's car,
but =they= say I did it," she said in a hurt little voice.

Amanda swallowed hard and gave her daughter a squeeze before she stood
up.

"I see what's going on," she said, glaring at Mulder and Scully.
"Gabrielle, I want you to go to your room so the grown-ups can talk."

"Can't I go to the den to watch TV?" Gabrielle asked.

"No!  Just go to your room for now, okay, honey?" Amanda said. Gabrielle
scuffed off to her room with only a backward glance or two for dramatic
effect.

"Maybe you ought to sit down," Scully said.

"I don't need to sit down because you're leaving," Amanda retorted.
"Unless you got a warrant or something."

"We have to talk about this," Scully insisted.

"Talk about what?  The way you single out me and my kid because she's
poor and illegitimate plus her father's a convict?" Amanda asked
angrily.

"You know that's not it," Mulder said.

"I want you out of my house," Amanda said.  "I want you to leave my
daughter and me alone."

"You're trying to protect her, but you can't do it by hiding from the
truth," Mulder said, taking a step forward.

Mulder had the tendency to use his height and muscle as an unspoken
threat, pushing himself into people's space to make them back down.
Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't.

"Maybe you didn't hear me right," said Amanda staunchly.

Scully put a hand on Mulder's arm, and he broke off the confrontation.

"You must know your daughter is special," he said, already turning
toward the door.  "You must have seen it."

"You're real big shots, coming around to try to scare us," Amanda said.
"Why don't you just drive across the railroad tracks and try telling the
rich folks that their children are freaks?"

"Gabrielle is not a freak.  She has a gift," Scully said.

"Those are real pretty words," Amanda said.  "Close the door on your way
out."

...Meanwhile, back in the den, the man called Jack was asking himself
why Mulder and Scully had to turn up again just when everything was
going so well.

"Oh, crap," he said.

= = = = =

"We need to talk to Mrs. Burnside again," Mulder said.  "She'll be more
objective."

They were sitting in the car outside Amanda's house.  People actually
seemed to walk in this neighborhood, Scully noticed.

"It might be difficult to win her over," he said.

Very difficult, Scully thought, since they'd have to begin by
apologizing for their pointless deception.  What had they gained by
telling the principal they were the parents of one of the first-graders?

"Perhaps she already suspects about those children," Mulder continued.
He started the engine.

Eddie Van Blundht had fathered five children, Scully thought, and Amanda
Nelligan was the only parent they'd contacted so far.  A single mother
struggling to make ends meet.  No wonder she was defensive. Furthermore,
Scully was sure there was someone else in the house at the time, someone
that Amanda wanted to keep hidden.

"I'll ask the principal if I can speak to the class.  I'll appeal to the
children's sense of fair play,"  Mulder said. "I'm good with kids."

Maybe Scully would drop him off at the school while she paid a visit to
one of the other families.  Or maybe she'd stay right here and try again
with Amanda.

"I just want to wait a few more minutes," Mulder said, leaning back in
his seat.  "Let's see what Amanda does next."

They waited in silence. Scully found herself irrationally curious about
the secret guest.  She remained convinced that Amanda had company.

"Scully," Mulder said, jerking his head toward the house.  A man was
walking from the side door toward the street.

"Knew it," said Scully.  Maybe Amanda's friend would confront them and
repeat her demand to leave her alone.

He was a seriously fine-looking man, Scully noticed.  He headed straight
to their car, but instead of rapping on the glass he gave them a long,
smug look and then strolled away.

"Kind of flamboyant for these parts, don't you think?" Mulder asked.

He wore black trousers and a plain white shirt, but Mulder was right.
There was something larger than life about him.

"It's Harrison Ford!" Scully proclaimed.

"I think you're off by a couple of decades," Mulder answered casually.

"Mulder!" she complained.  It was rare for him to be so obtuse.  She
opened the door and got out of the car, but he just sat there.

"Scully, you got a thing for Harrison Ford?" he asked.

"Harrison" was walking purposefully, and Scully had to hustle to close
the distance.  Damned if he didn't turn and wink at her before he
slipped into the corner convenience store.

By that time Mulder's synapses were back up to speed.  He practically
shoved Scully off the sidewalk as he ran past her.

"Han Solo!" he explained unnecessarily.

"Back door, Mulder.  I'll cover the front," she called after him.  She
thought she saw him nod that he'd heard her.

= = = = =

"Sorry, Scully.  He got away," Eddie said.

Mulder's face, Mulder's body, but Scully wasn't fooled.  For one thing,
she'd seen Mulder slip out the back door as soon as she caught up with
Eddie.

"Who got away, Mulder?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

"That guy we were following.  That good-looking guy," Eddie said.  He
let her take his hand, but he gave her a surprised, questioning look.

"Where's your tie?" she asked as she led him out of the store.

"I, uh, took it off," he explained.  "Anyway, I think we're all done
here."

"You said we'd talk to Amanda again," Scully said.  "Let's go, Mulder."

He stopped in his tracks until she gave his hand a tug.

"We really don't need to bother that poor woman any more," Eddie said.

"We'll just go in to tell her we're leaving town," Scully said.

Eddie looked very uneasy, but he was still walking with her.  When they
reached Amanda's house, Scully held back a step, waiting to see if Eddie
would head for the side door.  When he remained motionless at her side,
she made her own decision and headed for the front entrance.

"You wait here," Eddie suggested.  "I'll go in and tell her myself."

Scully rang the doorbell.  Amanda opened the door with a startled frown.

"You again," she said.

"Just wanted to say that you're off the hook," Eddie explained.

"May we come in?" Scully asked, pushing the door open and dragging Eddie
along with her.

"I thought I was off the hook," Amanda said.

"Yes, ma'am," said Eddie.  "That fellow, Jack, took care of everything."

"All right then," said Amanda.  "He told me he would."

The room held a sofa, a chair, and a loveseat.  Scully maneuvered Eddie
to the loveseat because it was next to the old-fashioned radiator.

"Jack's quite a guy," Eddie said as he sat down.

"Isn't he?" Amanda asked enthusiastically.  "He treats me like a queen,
and he doesn't mind I have a little girl."

"Where is Gabrielle?" Scully asked.

"I sent her next door," Amanda said.  "Mrs. Doran lets her help on
baking day."

Good, thought Scully.  She really didn't want Gabrielle around for this.

"So, you really like Jack," Eddie commented.

"Of course she likes him, Mulder," Scully explained.  "He's very
handsome."

"That's not the only reason," Amanda protested.

"He's a snappy dresser, too," Scully said.  "In fact, Mulder, I believe
you're wearing his clothes."

Amanda's eyes widened as she looked him over.

"Where is he?  What did you do to Jack?" she demanded.

Eddie's eyes bugged out too as he looked to Scully for help.  Scully
decided she could wait no longer.  She slapped the handcuffs on him, one
end around his wrist and the other through the radiator.

"Jack is right here in this room," Scully announced.

"Scully, what are you doing?" Eddie stammered.

"You son of a bitch," Amanda said.  "I don't believe this."  She stood
over him, shaking with anger.

"Scully?  Please?" Eddie asked, rattling the cuffs as if she might be
unaware of his predicament.

"Lies.  All I get from you is lies!" Amanda screamed.

Eddie let his features soften and shift until he was once again the
dashing captain of the Millennium Falcon.

"You don't understand, Amanda," he said.  "Every time I start to make
something of myself, the FBI comes along and screws me up."

"I must be the stupidest woman on earth," Amanda wailed.

"At least he didn't claim he was Han Solo," Scully tried to console her.

"I don't know why I didn't recognize him," Amanda said.  "I just wanted
so bad to believe."

"He can be very charming," Scully said, remembering an evening six years
ago.

"Amanda, everything I told you was the truth," Eddie said.

"Don't you even talk to me about the truth!  Not while you're sitting on
my sofa being someone you're not!" Amanda yelled.

"I want to treat you like a queen," Eddie said.  "I want to be a father
to my daughter."

"You leave her out of this," Amanda said.  Her voice was shaking and
Scully thought she might start to cry.  "I don't want my daughter
growing up around a con man."

Eddie looked stricken, and suddenly he looked like Eddie.

"I didn't mean to con you, Amanda.  I just wanted you to give me a
chance," he said.

"But you never gave me a chance," Amanda said.  "You can't use tricks to
make someone like you, Eddie.  It doesn't work that way."

= = = = =

The Martinsburg Elementary School
 

The first grade was watching "The Food Pyramid" for the second time that
afternoon, and Miss Panasci was sitting by her desk with her hand on her
head, rocking back and forth.

=Potatoes are an excellent source of fiber, vitamin C, and niacin! A
small potato, baked or boiled, equals one serving from the vegegable
group.=

"I gotta go to the bathroom!" Christopher blurted.

Even a kindergartner knew you were supposed to say, "Please may I leave
the room."  Miss Panasci didn't bother to correct him, though, just
waved him to the door.

"Miss Panasci, me too," Michael said.  "I gotta leave the room real
bad."

There was only one boy's bathroom pass, so Michael had to carry the one
for the girls' bathroom, but that was the least of his problems.
Gabrielle had never come back from recess, which made sense.  She was
probably still being Erica, maybe busy getting hollered at.

The big question was, where was the real Erica?

Kids had all kinds of stories about that, but Michael didn't know what
to believe.

The Greavy twins, Andrew and Dylan, were telling everyone that they'd
locked Erica in the Art room again.  The Art room was where the kids
went for recess when it was raining out, so it had lots of neat stuff to
play with.  Most kids would be happy to be locked in there, but Erica
didn't like to have fun.

"Do you think we should let her out now?" Dylan had asked Andrew.

"No, dummyhead, cause she got out herself.  Didn't you hear how she
busted up Mrs. Burnside's car?"  Andrew had rolled his eyes because his
brother was so clueless.

"She didn't either, and you're a dummyhead," Dylan replied.

The most disturbing story was about what happened next.  Some kids said
that two grown-ups took Erica away in a car.  Not her mom and dad,
because her dad was fat and her mom had black hair and glasses.  These
were strangers.

Michael knew that strangers sometimes stole children.

His mind was clouded with worry as he walked down the corridor with
Christopher, but he kept silent.  Finally, behind the closed door of the
bathroom, he dared to speak.

"Did strangers really take away Gabrielle?" he asked.

"I saw them," Christopher confirmed.  "But maybe they weren't the bad
kind."

"What do you mean? Strangers are bad," Michael reminded him.

"There's, um... you know, like police and ice-cream men," Christopher
said.  He leaned down to tie his shoe.

Michael nodded wisely.

"Yeah, helpers.  Maybe they were taking her to millary school," he
suggested.

"Millary school," said Christopher.  "What's that?" He was still working
on his shoelace.  He had one real good loop, but the rest was just a
long string.

"Bad kids' school," Michael explained.  "Like on Malcolm-in-the-Middle."

"That's smart kids' school," Christopher said.  He twisted the loop and
the string together and stuffed them into his shoe.

"No, where Francis the boy went," Michael said.

Michael had an Aunt Frances, and it made him feel funny that Malcolm's
brother had the same name.

"Oh, that," said Christopher.  "The real Erica would like millary
school."

"And Gabrielle would like if Dylan and Andrew locked her in the Art
room," Michael giggled.

"Wouldn't it be neat if you could be locked in there all night?  That
would be so cool," said Christopher.

The Art room had clay, paint, crayons, toys, and even a puppet theater.
There was a VCR with real tapes, not just "The Food Pyramid" and "Metric
Mania!"

"Super-cool.  But somebody's gotta let Erica out," said Michael.

They walked back to the classroom, where a new shock awaited them when
they peered in from the doorway.

Miss Panasci was gone, the video wasn't playing any more, and there was
a man in the front of the room.

There was a clue on the blackboard.

"Special Guest:  Mr. Mulder."

Michael tried to sound it out.  If the vowels said their names, the
Special Guest was Mr. Mule-deer.

Funny name!

Mr. Mule-deer was talking about right and wrong, and how everyone made
mistakes and the important thing was to try your best.  He was talking
about responsibility and telling the truth.

It didn't sound that different from a lot of things grown-ups said, and
Michael was at a loss to understand why the kids were acting so
frightened.  Then Christopher grabbed his arm, clutching so hard that it
hurt.

"That's the stranger who took Gabrielle," Christopher whispered.  "The
millary-school man!"

"Should we run?" Michael asked, but it was too late.  The man had seen
them.

"Come on in, boys," he said.

They slunk back to their seats, and the millary-school man went on with
what he was saying.

"Everyone likes to play make-believe, and there's nothing wrong with
that," he said.  "Playing make-believe is fun because no one is really
trying to trick anyone else."

Michael looked over to Erica's seat, forgetting for the moment that she
was missing.  Erica was in the habit of raising her hand after
pronouncements like this in order to voice her agreement.

"When we use tricks to deceive our friends, we damage their trust in
us," the man said.  "How many of you feel that it's important for
friends to be able to trust one another?"

The millary-school man was as boring as the food pyramid, but Michael,
along with most of the class, raised his hand.

"Mr. Mulder?  What if a person de-, uh, deceived his friend, and he's
real sorry now?"

The question came from Dylan.  Andrew was shaking his head wildly,
gesturing his twin to be quiet.

Mul-der, Michael realized.  Not Mule-deer.

The millary-school man seemed to consider the question carefully. He was
looking at the twins funny, but Michael had seen grown-ups do that
before. Special Guests, like the ecology lady or the bicycle-safety man,
would sometimes do a little double-take when they realized that Andrew
and Dylan looked the same.

"Understanding that you've done something wrong is the first step in
making it right," said Mr. Mulder.  He was staring hard, and Michael
could see the twins really starting to squirm.

"It wasn't me," Dylan said.  "It was him."

"You did it first," Andrew protested.

"That's okay," the millary man assured them.  "Why don't we go out in
the hall and have a little talk?"

Michael was terrified, but he was angry, too.  The millary man was
talking about tricks and trust, but all the while he was looking for
kids to take away in his car.

Andrew looked at Dylan, and Dylan looked at Andrew, and for once they
were in perfect agreement.

"Run!" they both screamed.

Mr. Mulder was too near the front door, so they both raced for the door
at the rear of the classroom.  The man ran after them, but Joshua stood
up and shoved his desk into the aisle.  For a minute it looked as if the
man would leap right over it, but he didn't jump high enough and he
landed on his face on the floor.

"Stop him!" Joshua yelled, and Michael jumped on the man's back.  Mr.
Mulder was strong and tricky, and he managed to toss Michael aside and
make it out the door.

"After him!" Michael commanded, and the class obeyed.

If only the twins would split up, at least one of them would have a
chance,  Michael thought, but they ran together down the hall and to the
staircase.

By the time Michael reached the staircase, Mr. Mulder was halfway down.

"Hey, look at me!" Michael shouted.  He turned himself into Dylan, who
was somehow a little easier to do than Andrew.  "I'm here!"

The man looked up and stopped in his tracks.

"Come and get me," Michael called, but after a second's hesitation, the
man continued down the stairs and then Michael ran after him.

"Split up!" he yelled, hoping the twins would hear him.

"They're going to save Erica," Christopher shouted from the middle of
the mob.

It was the right thing to do, but the wrong time to do it.  Also,
Michael didn't think they'd have time to pop open the big padlock before
the millary man snatched them and dragged them away.

The whole mob arrived at the locked door, and while the twins tapped and
jiggled the padlock a bunch of kids piled on top of the millary man.
They had him on the ground when the lock sprang open, and Michael heard
Andrew yelling for Erica to come on out.

Erica took her time leaving the room, taking her little lady-girl
steps.  And she was drinking a juice-box.  Michael didn't know they had
juice boxes in there too.

Mr. Mulder was back on his feet, but before he could grab the twins,
Joshua and Matthew swarmed at him, with the other kids behind them.

"Lock him up!" Christopher yelled.

"Not again," Mr. Mulder complained, but the swarm advanced, bumping and
pushing.  They shoved Mr. Mulder through the door, pulled it closed, and
refastened the lock.

Matthew let out a yelp as the door pinched his finger, but he managed to
yank it free.  Nobody else was hurt.

"Now what do we do?" asked Christopher.

Somehow everyone was looking at Michael, as if he knew what they should
do next.

"Let's go back to the classroom," he said.

They could hear pounding and yelling from inside the Art room, but as
they walked away, it got quieter and quieter.

= = = = =

ACT III

Residence of Amanda Nelligan
 

Scully phoned Deputy Cooper for a favor, and he said he'd be happy to
take Eddie over to the county lock-up for safe-keeping.

Eddie, still hand-cuffed to Amanda's radiator, was resigned but
resentful.

"What's the charge?" he challenged her.

"I'd advise  you to accept voluntary confinement while we figure out
what to do with you, but if you prefer, the charge is impersonating an
officer of the law."  Scully left him to weigh his options while she
joined Amanda in the kitchen.

"Agent Scully, are you planning to tell the school about Gabrielle?" she
asked.

"Even if I don't tell them, it's just a matter of time until they
learn," Scully pointed out.

"They'll throw her out of school," Amanda said.  "Those rich boys stand
a chance, but not my kid."

"It isn't easy raising a child on your own," Scully observed, taking a
seat at the kitchen table.

Amanda shrugged.

"I've had help.  My neighbor is great about babysitting and Dr. Pugh
kind of keeps an eye on us," she said.

"Dr. Alton Pugh?  The obstetrician?" Scully asked in surprise.

"He's 'semi-retired' now."  Amanda used her fingers to indicate the
quotation marks.  "He doesn't deliver babies any more, but he has a
special laser beam that'll take away your varicose veins right there in
his office.  If you've got any, that is."

Amanda sounded so enthusiastic that Scully was loathe to disappoint her,
but she shook her head apologetically.

Amanda filled a tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

"Dr. Pugh says he feels responsible.  Not that anyone blames him for
what Eddie did, or what the kids can do," she said.

Mulder was right, Scully thought.  Deputy Cooper was right.  Eddie's
children were all shapeshifters.

"How long have you known?" she asked.

"Matthew was doing Teletubbies before his first birthday.  The others
didn't have it real bad until this year,"  Amanda answered.

"Did you really think you could keep it a secret?" Scully asked.

"Dr. Pugh thought we could," Amanda said.  "He thought he could help."

"What could he do?" Scully asked.

"He's president of the school board," Amanda explained.  "He thought the
kids needed a strict school to keep them in line, someplace with a lot
of rules and standards.  Otherwise we might have to use drugs on them."

"It would be better for the children if you could avoid medications,"
Scully agreed.

"Dr. Pugh brought in that loony Mrs. Burnside to run the school.  Guess
that didn't work out very well," she said.  "Do you want some tea?"

Amanda dropped tea bags into a couple of mugs and filled them with hot
water.

"You know, Amanda, I think Dr. Pugh was on the right track.  The
children will need education and self-discipline," Scully said.  "What
they don't need is secrecy."

"We just want our kids to grow up normal and get treated normal," Amanda
said.  "If you spill the secret, it's all over for us."

"Your secret won't keep, Amanda.  You must realize that," she said.

Scully picked up her mug. For a few minutes, she and Amanda sat and
sipped, saying nothing.

Finally Amanda set down her tea and stood up.

"Maybe it would be better if we were the ones who told the school," she
said.  "I'll call Mrs. Neiman, see what she thinks."

= = = = =

end 2/3
Small Fries
3/3
by Kel
Disclaimer, etc., with part 1
 
 

= = = = =

Martinsburg Elementary School

Mulder leaned back in the little chair, ignoring its ominous groans.
There wasn't a single full-size chair in the room.  He shook the
sunflower seed bag into his open hand, but it was empty, so he tossed it
onto the table.

His jacket hung over the back of another little chair, and he reached in
the pocket and pulled out his cell phone.  The display
was still blank, and it remained blank no matter how many times he
pushed the button.  He tried every button and then every key, but none
of his maneuvers brought it to life, and he shoved the useless thing
back in his jacket.

Resigned and bored, Mulder returned his attention to the TV.

=No one hits like Gaston, Matches wits like Gaston, In a spitting match
nobody spits like Gaston....=

"Scully never told me her brother was in this movie," he mused out loud.
Then he licked his salty fingers and reached for another juice box.

= = = = =

It was rare for anyone to stand up to Mrs. Burnside, and she didn't like
it.

"I cannot allow shapeshifters in this school," she repeated staunchly to
the parents assembled in her office.

"This is a public school and you must provide every child with an
education," Michael's mother replied, and the other parents nodded in
agreement.

"And don't call my daughter a shapeshifter," added Amanda Nelligan.

Scully didn't have to say a word.  The parents were more than capable of
arguing their case. At first the principal had refused to believe that a
child could transform into another person, but then Gabrielle had made
herself into a perfect miniature of Miss Panasci, complete with yellowed
fingers and smoker's cough.

"Your children will be best served by home tutoring," Mrs. Burnside
asserted.  "You can't expect us to endure the antics of five little
chameleons."

"Lady, you're asking for it," said Matthew's father.

"Miss Panasci resigned today," Mrs. Burnside said.  "Where will I find a
teacher willing to put up with this level of disruption?"

"Mrs. Cooper might still be available," Scully volunteered.

"Let's add that to our demands," said Joshua's mother.  "We want Mrs.
Cooper back."

The parents broke into applause.

"You know, these kids couldn't be getting everybody so rattled if you
didn't make them dress alike," Amanda said.  "You're making it way too
easy for them to trick you."

"That's right," said Matthew's mother.  "Beyond that, I am sick to tears
of ironing those white shirts."

"Me too," said Michael's mother.  "And replacing all those lost ties."

Michael's father gave his wife a thumb's up sign and leaned in to tell
her something.

"Good point, Baboo," he said.

"This is America!" announced Christopher's father.  "It's bad enough
when grown-ups have to wear a tie."

"Are you challenging the dress code?" Mrs. Burnside asked in amazement.

"You bet your sweet ass we are," said Michael's father, and his wife led
the others in applause.

"See you at the next school board meeting," said Christopher's father.
"I think you'll be surprised how many of the parents have had
enough of your rules."

Scully felt hopeful that the people of Martinsburg would find their own
way to deal with the special children.  She thought about slipping out
of the meeting to watch how Mulder was entertaining  the six-year-olds,
because he really was good with kids. But it was almost three o'clock
and she decided to wait.

= = = = =

Gabrielle Nelligan was the star of the day.

First she'd turned herself into Erica and busted up a car.  Then she'd
gone home early from school, and it wasn't even her fault because the
strangers tricked her.  That was a big surprise for Mom!

And then Mom had called up other parents, and they all went to school to
yell at Mrs. Burnside.  Gabrielle missed most of that, unfortunately.
After she showed Mrs. Burnside how well she could make faces, they made
her wait outside on the bench while the grown-ups talked in the office.

Then Mom told her to go back to class.  Gabrielle didn't even mind,
because she had so much news to share.

"Hey, everybody, I'm back!" she called, marching into the room like a
triumphant general.

The class was very quiet, and the VCR was on.  "The Food Pyramid."
Usually they had to watch that when Miss Panasci had a headache, but
Miss Panasci wasn't even in the room.

"You missed all the fun!" Andrew told her.  "Erica Carlyle destroyed the
principal's car!  She almost went to millary school, only she 'scaped!"

"Quiet," Michael reminded everyone.  Michael thought he was in charge of
the world.

"That wasn't Erica," Gabrielle protested.  "It was me."

"Everybody saw me," Erica boasted.

Usually the kids groaned when Erica said something, but now they were
nodding and agreeing with her.  It was kind of disgusting.

"Guys, Erica doesn't do stuff like that," Gabrielle reminded them.

"People saw her," Christopher said pointedly. "They =saw= her."

Gabrielle remembered about their secret.

"Well, you wanna know what I heard in the office?" she asked. "Miss
Panasci quit!"

"Really?" Michael asked.

"I ain't a liar!" she shot back.  For the star of the day, she wasn't
getting a lot of respect.

"She has been gone a long time," Michael conceded.

"You don't have any grown-up at all?" Gabrielle asked, looking around
the room.

"We had a stranger, but we locked him in the Art room," Matthew said.

Gabrielle was mad she'd missed that.

"Shut up!" said Christopher.  "Unless you want to be the one to let him
out."

"And then you'll get a whoopin' *and* go to millary school," Joshua
said.

"We have to let him out some time," Michael said.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you put him in there,"
Christopher said sharply.

"You put him in there too," Michael insisted.

"Guys," said Gabrielle.  "They'll let him out next time we have to stay
inside for recess."

"Yeah, soon as it rains," Christopher said.  "Good thinking, Gabrielle."

She smiled proudly.

"All right!" Michael conceded.  "Let's just stay quiet, okay?   It's
almost three o'clock."

Gabrielle took her regular seat.

"The Food Pyramid" was near the end, where the perky lady told them how
much they'd learned.

=Instead of greasy french fries, try a baked potato! Butter is loaded
with fat, so use a squeeze of lemon juice or splash of vinegar!
Delicious!=

= = = = =

Mulder had three choices.

He could pull the fire alarm.  There would be bells and sirens and
firetrucks and huge embarrassment, but he would be free.

He could blast his way out.  With the hasp and the padlock on the
outside where he couldn't see them, he'd have to shoot off the hinges.
It would work, but it would be noisy, destructive, and potentially
dangerous.  He'd have to wait until the building was empty.

Or he could just hang out.  Scully would find him sooner or later.

The video on the TV rolled into its closing credits, and Mulder was
surprised at how much he'd enjoyed it.  Stiffly he lumbered up from his
miniature chair.

Scully had seen "Babe" dozens of times, thanks to her nephews.  It was a
cute movie, but Mulder decided that once was enough.

"That'll do, pig, that'll do," he said as he hit the "rewind" button.

= = = = =

Mulder's vanishing act was annoying, but at least today Scully had no
worries about his safety.

She'd loitered by the principal's office, expecting him to make an
appearance after school was dismissed.  When that didn't happen she'd
tried his cell phone and finally walked over to the classroom.  Mulder's
name was still on the blackboard, but the room was abandoned.

She phoned Curtis Cooper.

"I haven't heard from Agent Mulder all day, but I'm glad you called.
What do you want us to do about Eddie?" the deputy asked.

"Good question," she said.

"If he's not back at the halfway house by supper, he'll lose his
privileges," Cooper reminded her.  "Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"Maybe not," Scully agreed.

Some people seemed to think Eddie Van Blundht was a lovable scamp, but
Scully didn't see him that way.  He'd used his sensitivity and his
unique physiology to steal intimacy, and she could not easily overlook
his crimes.

"Someone who can do what he does shouldn't be walking around loose,"
Cooper said.

"I hope you're wrong," Scully said, but she was thinking about the
children, not Eddie.

"I'll leave it to you, Agent Scully.  The next bus to New Cumberland
leaves at four-thirty," Cooper said.

"I'd like to drive him back myself," she decided.  "That is, if you can
lend me a car."

The Lariat was parked by the school.  It would serve Mulder right if he
came back from wherever he was and found it missing, but Scully didn't
have the keys.

Deputy Cooper took a few minutes to make the arrangements. He had a
patrolman swing by the school to drive Scully back to headquarters, and
there he had an unmarked vehicle waiting and the prisoner ready for
transport.

Somehow the blousy white shirt and the fitted black trousers that looked
so dashing on young Harrison Ford looked silly on Eddie Van Blundht.

Scully let him sit in the front seat, after some quick consideration.
She wagered that Eddie had too much to lose by trying a direct physical
assault.

"I guess you're going to rat me out to the prison board," Eddie said.
He seemed incapable of understanding that he was not the injured party,
Scully thought.

"Rat you out?" she asked.

"You know.  Tell 'em," he said.

"Oh.  As in, tell them that you continue to use your shapeshifting in
order to deceive women?  Yes, I believe I will report that," she said.

Eddie nodded.  Scully felt his eyes on her as he studied her, pondering
the best way to win her over.

"I can respect that," he said earnestly.

"Thank goodness.  I was worried," said Scully.

Eddie seemed hurt by her sarcasm.

"You know, all over the counry there are guys trying to blow up
buildings and rip-off their shareholders.  Why are you so interested in
me?" he asked.

"Yeah, what did you ever do?" Scully asked even more sarcastically.

"Okay, Agent Scully, what did I do that was so terrible?  All I did was
try to give a woman everything she wanted," he said.

If it was just about Eddie, Scully wouldn't have cared so much.  She had
to prove to herself that the ability to transform was not
part-and-parcel with lack of character.

She decided to try something totally unorthodox.

"You know, Eddie, you have a point," she said.

He seemed surprised but he quickly readjusted.

"I just want to make people happy," he said.  "Especially Amanda."

"I can see that.  What woman wouldn't be delighted to have a handsome
boyfriend who took an interest in her child?" she asked.

"Don't forget, that little girl is my child too," he said.

Arguably, the four little boys were also his children, but Scully was
grateful that Eddie wasn't taking that view.

"You're just trying to make a family," she said.

"Uh-huh. You know why women enjoy my company?" Eddie asked.

Unfortunately, Scully knew exactly why women enjoyed his company.  She
vowed not to show her discomfort.

"Why?" she asked blankly.

"Because I listen to them.  When I'm with a woman, she has my full
attention," he said.

Scully nodded thoughtfully.

"I give you a lot of credit for that," she said.

"That's why I know I could make Amanda happy.  Don't you think she
deserves that?" he asked.

"She's been so lonely," Scully said.  "She thinks about you a lot."

May God forgive me, she thought.

"Really?  What did she say about me?" Eddie asked eagerly.

"Oh, just that she was hoping there was a way you could be part of her
life.  And Gabrielle's," Scully said.

"I've been hoping the same thing," Eddie said.  "I'll be eligible for
full parole in six months."

"I hope my report won't hurt your chances," Scully said, promising
herself she'd make early Mass on Sunday.

"It would be a shame if your report ruined things for Amanda," he said.

Scully turned to him and patted his arm.

"She was asking when I thought you'd be able to move in with her," she
said.

His jaw dropped, and Scully saw tears in his eyes.

"That's all I've been thinking about," he said.

"That would be exactly what you want," she said.

"My dream come true," he whispered.

Eddie looked so goofy and vulnerable that it was hard for Scully to do
what she had to do next. She counted silently to ten and then she made
her move.

"Keep dreaming, Eddie.  It's all a lie," she said.

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

"Amanda doesn't want you around because she doesn't trust you.  Her
biggest fear for Gabrielle is that she'll turn out like you," she said.

"But everything you said before...?" His question ended in a grunt as
the truth hit him.

"Lies, Eddie.  Every word," she said.

His lip curled with disgust.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked angrily.

"What did I do?" she asked.

"You lied to me, you--" He caught himself and started again in a more
controlled tone.  "You lied to me, Agent Scully."

"I gave you everything you wanted," she countered.  "I was listening,
Eddie.  You had my full attention."

She knew she had hurt him, but she didn't know if she had made her
point.  In any event, he would have plenty of time to think about it.
Eddie Van Blundht had demonstrated that he wasn't ready to return to
society.

His face was turned toward his window.  He said one word, but he said it
quietly and she let it pass.

= = = = =

Nieman residence
 

Michael's room was over the garage, so he woke up when Mom and Dad got
home.  He slipped from his room to the top of the staircase, where he
could hear Mom thanking Aunt Frances for babysitting on such short
notice.

"Not a problem.  That was one meeting you couldn't miss," Aunt Frances
said before she left.

Mom usually went to the school board meetings with some of her friends,
so Michael had known something big was up when his dad went along.  It
wasn't an ordinary meeting.  It was an emergency executive session.

Michael hoped it was something about getting Mrs. Cooper back.  Earlier
he'd heard Mom on the phone with Uncle Alton, and she'd told him how
much everyone missed her.

Mom and Dad were talking quietly downstairs, and about the only word
Michael could catch was his own name.  They didn't seem to be angry, but
they sounded very serious.  Then there was a long pause, and then his
mother's voice, a little louder but still not angry.

"Michael?" she called.

He felt apprehensive as he climbed down the stairs.

"I woke up from the garage door," he explained.

"It's all right," said Dad.  "We want to talk to you."

Oh-oh, Michael thought.  Dad pointed to the couch, and Michael sat.

"You remember when we told you not to make faces at school," Dad said.

Michael nodded guiltily.

"Why do you think we told you that?" Mom asked.

"Cause it's bad," he answered in a voice barely over a whisper.

"No," Dad said.  "It isn't bad."

"It's not =necessarily= bad," Mom added.

"It's only bad when you use it to do something bad," Dad said.

"Really?" Michael asked.

"It's bad when you change your face to trick someone or get someone else
in trouble," Mom said.

"It isn't bad if you're just playing, or just showing people what you
can do," Dad said.

Michael couldn't have been more surprised.  Even Mom was looking at Dad
funny.

"Most people can't do what you do, son.  That makes you different," Dad
continued.   "But it's okay to be different."

Grown-ups said that a lot, but Michael knew it wasn't entirely true.  It
was okay to have different color skin or use a wheelchair, but it wasn't
okay if you talked funny or wet your pants.

"When it's so easy to trick people, you have to work extra hard to be
truthful and fair," Dad said.

"It's a big responsibility," Mom added.

Like Spiderman, Michael thought.  With great power comes great
responsibility.

"I just want you to know we're proud of you," Dad said.  "You're a good
person, Michael."

Michael felt confused, especially because Mom looked like she was about
to cry.  He also felt terribly guilty.

"I did something bad at school today," he said.  Mom and Dad both looked
scared, and Michael hurried to reassure them.  "But I didn't show my
butt."

Mom and Dad started laughing, which made Michael feel better and safer.
When they stopped laughing, he told them.

"I locked up a stranger in the Art room."

= = = = =

Martinsburg Elementary School
 

Mulder had drunk all the grape and cranberry juice boxes, and only the
syrupy orange ones were left.

He should probably slow down on the fluids anyway, he decided, or long
before morning he'd be choosing between the garbage can and the water
fountain.

His jacket was still over a chair, joined now by his tie, but Mulder
himself was sitting on the floor.

He hummed along with the music from the VCR, but most of his attention
was directed to a massive construction project.

Mulder had discovered that the Mighty Mega Garage set could interlock
with the Mighty Mega Car-wash, and now he was working to tie in the
Mighty Mega Freightyard and the Mighty Mega Speedway.

= = = = =

Martinsburg Sheriff's Department
 

Deputy Cooper was near the end of his shift when Scully met him back at
headquarters.  She helped herself to a chair by his desk.

"Any word from Agent Mulder?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Nope," Cooper answered.  "How did it go with Eddie?"

"He's been transferred back to the reformatory, but they're letting him
keep his job," Scully said.

Cooper shook his head.

"A guy like that shouldn't be on work release," he said.

She pulled a plastic band from her pocket to show him.

"He'll be under much closer scrutiny now.  They fitted him with a
security device," she said.

Cooper snorted.

"They should have had one on him in the first place," he said.

Scully examined the band, flicking at the straps.  She'd had no earthly
reason to take it.... just the vague idea that Mulder needed something
like that.

"I think your wife has a good chance of getting her old job back," she
said.

"Yup. The school board made her an offer at the meeting tonight," he
said.

"That was fast," Scully commented.  Nothing in Washington ever happened
that quickly.

"I don't feel real good about her going back to those monkey babies,"
Cooper said.  "I think they're trouble waiting to happen."

Scully hoped the kids didn't have to face too many people with Curtis
Cooper's attitude, but she didn't try to argue with him.  If his wife
hadn't brought him around, Scully knew she wouldn't have much luck.

"They have that potential," she conceded.

Cooper had begun to clear his desk, slipping loose papers into folders
and stacking up the large ledgers.

"I'll be shoving off in a few minutes.  Need a lift?" he asked.

"I'll try Mulder once more," she said.

Mulder remained unavailable, and Scully was torn between her
intellectual certainty that he was all right and her anxiety and anger
over his unexplained absence.

She keyed in Amanda Nelligan's number.

"Have you heard from Agent Mulder, by any chance?" she asked.
Fortunately Amanda didn't ask for an explanation, but she had no
information to offer.

"I suppose Gabrielle's in bed by now," Scully said.

"Yes she is, Agent Scully, but I can't see where she'd have anything to
tell you either," Amanda said.

"You're probably right," Scully replied.  "I thought Mulder might have
mentioned where he was going when he spoke to her class this afternoon."

"Agent Mulder wasn't there when Gabrielle got back to her classroom,"
Amanda related.  "The kids were all alone until school let out at
three."

= = = = =

Mulder had to admit it was strangely exhilarating to be locked up with
nothing to do but play.  His empty stomach and full bladder were nagging
him for relief, but there was so much left to do.  He decided he could
hold out a little longer.

The jars of poster paint caught his eye.  Just one painting, and then
he'd shoot his way out.

He carried his tiny chair over to an easel, selected three brushes, and
chose his paint.  Big rolls of butcher paper hung from a rack.  Mulder
pulled out about a yard, and as he raised the end so that he could tear
the paper against the serrated edge, he saw something behind the rack.
At a distance it was completely hidden by the rolls of paper, but from
this close it was staring up at him.

A puny, child-sized, paint-stained sink, with little blue palm prints on
the faucets and a gray halo around the drain.  A beautiful little sink.

"Thank you, God," Mulder uttered reverently.

He rolled the rack out of the way and utilized the sink with a profound
sense of gratitude and contentment.  After he'd washed his hands, he
sprinkled in some scouring powder and gave it a good rinse.

The night was young, his bladder appeased, and nothing stood between him
and his creativity.  He sat down on the chair, rolled up his sleeves,
and started to paint.  He was as happy as Frohike at a nudist camp,
except for one little thing.  He was starving.

= = = = =

EPILOGUE

"Maybe I was wrong about those kids," said Deputy Cooper said, his eyes
fixed on the road ahead.  "That little Michael must have some kind of
conscience to come clean about what he did."

Scully was feeling considerably less charitable about Michael and his
classmates.  The deputy was driving like an old man, and she was ready
to snap.

"Would you mind using the siren?" she asked curtly.  "My partner happens
to be trapped in a deserted building."

"Ma'am, he's locked in the playroom is all.  I was thinking he might be
kind of embarrassed if we draw a lot of attention to the situation,"
Cooper said.

Scully hadn't thought of that.  Martinsburg was the kind of small town
where people would ask about the siren.

At last they arrived at the school.  The deputy parked the prowler next
to the Lariat car, and Scully began to turn her anger on herself.

Some partner she was.  Driving halfway across the state to play
mind-games with a convicted rapist while Mulder was held prisoner by the
Village of the Damned.

"Where is this so-called Art room?" she barked at Cooper as he unlocked
the door to the school.

"In the basement," he said.

Like a dungeon, Scully thought, but she stifled her response and
followed him down the stairs.

Even after Cooper flipped on the lights, the hallway was shadowy and
creepy.

Poor Mulder, Scully thought as she walked down the hall.  He'd probably
shouted himself hoarse and pounded his fists against the door until his
knuckles bled.

Scully thought of all the situations he'd weathered, all the ordeals
he'd endured, and this one didn't seem that bad.

But there was another possibility.  All those past experiences would be
dancing through Mulder's head, haunting him.  What if she found him
cowering in a corner, overcome by anxiety?

The padlock was huge and heavy, but not very sophisticated.  No wonder
the kids had been able to poke at it until it opened.  Scully's pick
unlocked it in less than a second.

She turned to Cooper.

"I want to go in alone," she said, still imagining that Mulder might be
whimpering on the floor.

"'Course," the deputy agreed easily.  "He'll feel like enough of a fool
without me around.  Just remember to bring back the keys."

As Cooper walked away, Scully opened the door slowly.

"Mulder," she called.  "Don't be afraid, Mulder.  It's me, Scully."

"Scully, what took you so long?" Mulder called cheerfully.

Scully's relief escaped in a sound between a gasp and a sob.  She could
see him on the far side of the room, folded into a little chair, and he
waved to her before turning back to... painting.  Mulder was painting a
picture.

She almost tripped over a sprawling toy city that covered much of the
floor, and she was surprised that the strict principal didn't insist on
the children putting away their toys.

Mulder was chewing on something as he painted, and the cluster of empty
juice boxes on the floor told her it was a straw.  The painting looked
finished, but Mulder was adding little dabs and flourishes, squinting as
he worked.

His completed paintings lay across the table, the wet paint still shiny.

She expected aliens and spaceships but found not a one.

The theme of the day was food.  A steaming pizza pie with one slice
gone.  An ice-cream sundae.  A bagel--or was it a doughnut?

His work in progress was a gigantic cheeseburger.

Not bad, either.  The man had talent.

"Hey, Rembrandt," she said, leaning down to flick a stray shell from his
hair. "Want to go get something to eat?"

"Okay, Scully, if you're sure it's really me," he said, laying his brush
on the ledge of the easel and rising from the chair.

"Aren't you going to clean up?" she asked.

Mulder looked around the room.

"Wasn't planning on it," he said.

Scully shrugged.

"Then let's get going," she said.  She took the picture from the easel,
holding it carefully by the corners.

"You're going to check for fingerprints," Mulder teased.  "You really
aren't sure who I am, are you?"

"I'm sure, Mulder," she said.

"Then why?" he asked.  As they walked, he cleared a path for her with
his foot.  Occasionally he had to bend down to move something aside.

"I want it for my refrigerator.  I didn't know you could paint," she
said.

"Maybe I can't.  Maybe it's Eddie who can paint," Mulder goaded her.

Carefully Scully placed the painting on a desktop and turned to him.

"I know it's you, Mulder.  I know you so much better than I did six
years ago.  I know how you talk, how you smell."

She reached for him, and if he'd had any notion of disguising his
identity, he blew his cover by leaning toward her in an automatic
response.

She kissed his full lips, once so elusive and now so familiar.

"I know how you taste," she sighed, gazing up at him.

Mulder didn't release his embrace but gathered her closer.

"How I feel?" he murmured into her neck.

"Mm," Scully agreed, but then she forced herself to pull away.  They
were professionals.  They were FBI agents.  They were closing a case.

"Besides," she said crisply, retrieving the painting and holding it up
to him.  "Pickles aren't gray."
 
 

=end=