Title: Chilmark:  Part II - Mother's Day
Authors: Wylfcynne and Ravenwald

See Authors Notes and Disclaimers in Part I:
Demonology

+++

The Board of Directors Meeting Room Fifth
Avenue, New York City. Thursday, June 27, 2000

Topic:  progress review of long-term projects.
Currently on the table: the suspended Chilmark
Project: Project 1961-#28

Mr Harmon:  It has been thirty-nine years since this
Project was initiated.  Why is it on the table, now?

Mr Lermontov:  I have a personal interest in the
Project, and I believe the Board would be
interested in some of my findings...

Mr Webber:  Was your continued interest in the
Project authorized?

Mr Lermontov:  It was.  Chilmark was the first
genetic manipulation study we did; we used our
own children because access to other subjects put
the Project, and the Group, at too great a risk of
exposure. My son is part of the Project, and I have
been monitoring the other survivors as well.

Mr Harmon:  Survivors?  What was the study's
catastrophic failure rate?

Mr Lermontov:  None of the initial groups of
subjects died as a result of the project.  One of the
females in this first group died in an airplane crash
at age nineteen, and another one suffered
irreversible brain damage during surgery after a car
crash at age twenty-six and died just recently in a
long-term facility.  The other four are still alive and
functional.  There were several miscarriages at the
initiation levels of the Project, but we could never
prove, one way or the other, if the miscarriage
might not have happened anyway.  That's why,
despite eight couples volunteering their children, in
the initial phase, there were only six subjects, and
two of them were siblings.

Mr Webber:  The Chilmark Project was a failure. 
Why do you want it reviewed, now?

Mr Lermontov:  It was NOT a failure!  We simply
got results that were totally unexpected!  This is a
request for an active intervention, not a review.  I
have reason to believe that one of the male
subjects who lost his original partner has
successfully attached himself to another female,
one from a different group, and that this
relationship appears to approximate that of
bondmates in all significant ways.  If this is true, and
the bondmate relationship can be initiated in
appropriate partners even after adulthood, then the
Chilmark Project has succeeded beyond our
wildest imaginings.

Mr Webber:  What sort of intervention do you want
us to authorize?

Mr Lermontov:  I want the four original subjects
brought in for testing and re- evaluation. Mr
Harmon:  I don't suppose the subjects are aware of
their participation in the Project?

Mr Lermontov:  No.  They were told nothing; it was
feared that any such knowledge on their part might
affect the outcome of the Project. They know
nothing.

Mr Harmon:  Then how do you propose to get them
in for this testing?

Mr Lermontov:  Abduction, of course.  Surely you're
not squeamish about these things...?

Mr Harmon:  No!  No.

Mr McClintock:  Excuse me, but I believe that Mr de
Kuiper has a personal interest in one of these
subjects.  He has exempted Subject B, I believe,
from any participation in our research programs; he
is a member of Mr de Kuiper's family and I believe
he is an heir presumptive or some such.

Mr Lermontov:  This is not a new project, merely a
continuation of an old project that Mr de Kuiper was
made aware of at that time.  He lodged no
objections then.

Mr McClintock:  On your own head be it.  Old
Johannes is not always rational about family
matters and less so as he ages.  His health has
been precarious, lately, and his heir is an idiot.  He
needs Fox Mulder whole, sane and functional.

Mr Lermontov:  I repeat; this is not a new project,
nor is it a project termination.  It is merely a
maintenance exercise.  There is no anticipation that
upon its conclusion that any of the subjects will be
unable to resume their lives."

Mr McClintock:  I see that you will do what you will.

Mr Slate:  I move in favor.

Mr Webber:  I second.

Mr McClintock:  I abstain.

The Chairman:  All in favor?  Motion is carried, Mr
Lermontov.  Have them brought in.  Do you have
facilities in mind?

Mr Lermontov: Yes.  One of the rail labs is free,
and it will do for the two men.  There is also a lab in
Santa Fe that is doing related work; it will do for the
one pair still together.  At a later date, assuming
results from this testing are positive, I will want to
reunite all five under controlled conditions.  When
they were children, there was evidence of a bond
between all six of the members of the original
group, and the one sibling pair has maintained a
powerful bond, despite the length of their
separation.

The Chairman: Very well.  We expect a full report
on the results, Mr Lermontov. Now.  On to item 17
on our agenda...

+++ +++

Mother's Day, 2000 Sunday afternoon, 3:48pm
Greenwich CT

Fox Mulder picked up the flowers he had chosen,
pink roses with baby's breath and ferns, and
climbed out of the car.  His mother's house looked
dark.  He knocked and rang the bell, but there was
no answer.  His gut tightened.

(*Could she have had another stroke?*)

"Mom!" he called, making a fist to pound on the
door.

"Young man!"

Mulder whirled, to face an elderly woman on the
sidewalk walking a pair of tiny black Pekingese
dogs.

"Young man, are you looking for Teena Mulder?"

He blinked and recognized her.  "Mrs. Herringer? 
It's me, Fox.  Her son."

The woman smiled sadly.  "I remember you, now,
lad.  It's Mother's Day, isn't it?  But Teena isn't
home; she went antiquing with a new friend of hers,
Patsy McClain.  They're staying over in New
Hampshire, somewhere."  She gestured helplessly. 
"They left yesterday."

Mulder stared at her.  "She... left?  Yesterday?"

The elderly woman nodded, and her smile faded. 
"I'm sorry, lad.  I think she should have told you."

(*Yeah...*)

The elderly lady resumed her walk.  Mulder
watched her go, and then walked down the steps
again.

+++

It was well after midnight when Margaret Scully
heard a car pull into her driveway.  Nervous, being a
woman alone, she peeked cautiously out through a
curtain.  She was startled to recognize the car and
driver: that was Fox Mulder, and he was alone.

This was unusual; she had invited her daughter's
partner to come and join her and her family for
various holidays in the past; he almost always
declined. Margaret could not help but wonder if he
expected to find her daughter here. Dana had been
there but had gone home hours ago.

Mulder was still sitting in the car.  Puzzled that he
made no move to get out or approach the house,
Margaret finally pulled on her raincoat over her
housecoat, and went outside.

He did not seem to see her approaching and when
she tapped on the glass to get his attention, he
flinched.  Then he rolled down the window.  "Mrs.
Scully?"

He sounded confused, and Margaret frowned. 
"Fox?  Are you all right?"

He looked up at her, and she was deeply disturbed
by the blank, shocked look on his face.  "I haven't
any idea," he admitted.

"Come inside.  I'll make coffee."

She was using her 'mom' voice; Mulder obeyed
her.

+++ 

"So, Dana said you were going to go see your
mother this afternoon. How is she?"

He was sitting on the couch in her living room, his
coat thrown over a nearby chair.  She was sitting on
the loveseat watching him cradle a cup of  black
coffee in hands that she could see were trembling. 
He was also having some trouble focusing on her,
but the words were clear when he replied.

"I went.  She wasn't home."

Maggie was startled.  "What?"

"She wasn't home.  She went antiquing with a
friend."

Maggie was shocked.  "It's Mother's Day!  You
always go see her on Mother's Day! How could she
do that?"

He wanted to shrug carelessly; it came off as a
wracking shudder.  He had to put the coffee cup
down; his hands were shaking too hard to hold it.

"Fox!"  She moved to come and sit beside him on
the couch, put her arm around his huddled
shoulders.  "What's wrong?"

He was not at all certain where the words were
coming from; they certainly were not in his head, so
he listened to see what he would say.

"I... I just had it hammered into me today that..." 
His voice trailed off.

"That what?" she prompted him gently.

"That I'm all alone."  He would not look at her.  "My
father never wanted me, my sister's still missing,
and my mother's lost interest in me.  She's more
interested in old furniture that belonged to other
people.  That's all the family I've got... and I guess I
haven't even got that." She finally had to put her
hand on his chin and turn his face toward her.  His
eyes were blank, unfocused, dry.  His face was
expressionless, his voice flat and toneless, and
Margaret was frightened.

"Fox, as long as Dana and I are alive, you will not
be alone."

He did not even blink.

"Fox, when Dana disappeared, I would have given
up if it had not been for you. When she was fighting
that cancer, I would never have been able to stand
up for as long as it took without you.  You saved
her!  You found the cure, and you saved my little
girl.  If you do nothing else in all your life, I will love
you forever for that."

He blinked.  "Mrs. Scully?"

"Yes, Fox?"

He focused on her.  "You love your kids, don't
you?"

"Of course I do!"

"What did they have to do to earn it?"

She stared at him.  "Earn it?  Whatever do you
mean?"

"What did they have to do to deserve to be loved,
wanted?  What did Dana have to do?"

"They're my children, Fox.  That's why I love them!"

His eyes went blank again.

A horrible suspicion began to grow in Margaret's
mind, and her heart ached for him.  "Fox? What did
you have to do to deserve to be loved?" she asked
cautiously. He shuddered.  "I was never sure," he
admitted.  "Whatever it was, I never managed to do
it."

"It was a long time ago, Fox.  Maybe you just don't
remember it all very clearly, anymore."

He shook his head.  "I have an eidetic memory,
Mrs. Scully.  I don't forget anything.  That's why the
blank spots are so... disconcerting."

She frowned.  "Blank spots?  What blank spots?"

"There's one about a week long after Samantha fell
down the back stairs and broke her wrist, and
there's one almost four months long after the night
she vanished."

"What do you remember about the time she fell
down the stairs?"

"I remember my father coming toward me taking
off his belt," Mulder said flatly. "I remember the first
few blows, then everything dissolves into soft
grayness, and I woke up one morning, days later, in
my bed, as if nothing had happened, at all."

"He beat you because your sister fell down the
stairs?  How old were you?"

"Six and a half."

Margaret Scully stifled a gasp of horror.  (*What
kind of monster would use a belt to beat a six-year-
old?!*)  "How was her accident your fault?"

Mulder shrugged.  "I should have been watching
her better.  I was there, above her.  I tried to catch
her..." He shuddered at the memory, just as fresh
now as that day more than three decades in the
past.

"What happened when she disappeared, Fox?" 
Margaret asked softly.

He dropped forward to rest his elbows on his
knees.  This position made it easier for him to
avoid looking at Mrs. Scully, and he actually felt a
little more stable braced this way.  He was
trembling uncontrollably; he had been getting
colder and colder ever since he realized that his
mother had abandoned him.

"I saw it happen.  I was paralyzed, I couldn't move. 
I saw a bright light come in through the door, and I
saw a little Gray silhouetted there.  Samantha was
floating toward him, horizontally floating above the
floor, like a magician's levitation trick.  When the
light blinked out she and the Gray were both gone."

"Could you move?"

"No.  I just sat there, staring at the place where she
had been."

"What did your parents do when they came back?"

"I don't remember."

"Did you get beaten again?"

"I don't remember.  Probably.  I got beaten a lot."

Margaret was horrified at the carelessness with
which he could say those words.

"And you woke up four months later?"

He nodded, staring off into a middle distance.

"How could you lose four months?!"

He shuddered, sat up a little and focused his eyes
on the three bright flower arrangements on her
mantelpiece: one from each of her surviving
children, wishing her a Happy Mother's Day.

"I didn't lose them; I never had them.  Years later,
when I was old enough to read my own medical
records, I found out that I was completely catatonic
for more than a week, totally unresponsive.  I came
out of it slowly; I regained awareness in the
hospital, over a period of thirteen weeks.  I didn't
start talking again for six months, though; long after
I'd been sent home."

"How did your parents treat you when you got
home?"

"They ignored me.  My father was away a lot; he
worked for the State Department. My mother hired
a therapist and a tutor to take care of me and help
me get caught up in school.  I passed sixth grade
despite all the time I missed, and I went on to junior
high with my classmates."

There was a spark of pride in his voice, and
Margaret was stunned. (*He witnessed his sister's
kidnapping and spent thirteen weeks in a hospital,
was ignored by his parents, and managed to make
up all his schoolwork so he didn't have to repeat
the grade?!  My God, this man is tough!*)

"So, how did you do in seventh grade?"

"Straight A's."

"Eighth?"

"Straight A's."

"I detect a pattern developing," she smiled.  "Your
parents must have been proud of you."

"I don't know."

That stopped Margaret short.  "You don't know? 
Didn't they ever say?"

"My mother was a barbiturate addict by then, living
on Seconal and Miltown.  My father was rarely
home."

"Who took care of you, for heaven's sake?!"

He shrugged.  "I took care of myself."

"And you've been doing it ever since."

"Pretty much."

"Weren't they even proud of you when you went to
Oxford?"

"My father grumbled about how much it cost."

Margaret took a deep breath.  "Well, I'm proud of
you!  You're an amazing person, and you've
accomplished amazing things!  No wonder Dana
loves you."

He shuddered.  "She likes me well enough, I
suppose; she's a good friend..."

"Fox Mulder, don't you dare sit there and tell me
you don't love my daughter desperately!"

He stared at her.  "You know I do.  But that doesn't
mean she loves me.  She's too smart for that."

Margaret smiled gently.  "Love has nothing to do
with how smart someone is. Dana loves you very
much."

He shuddered again.  "Why would she love me? 
Her career's been tainted, she's been kidnapped,
and she's almost died how many times...?  All
because she was associated with me."

She noticed he did not use the word 'abducted' and
wondered at that change in him.

"Being an FBI agent is dangerous; she knew that
when she signed up. If the two of you are trouble
magnets, that does not mean it's your fault.  When
you go after The Big Lie, certainly there will be
more than one attempt to stop you, and the
opposition will be well equipped. Fox--"

He looked at her.  There was still no expression on
his face.

"Dana's told me something about this Consortium. 
It sounds to me very much as if the two of you are
constantly going up against a foe on the order of
Nazi Germany.  Can you imagine World War II
reduced to the German Nazi Party versus two FBI
agents?  Fox, it's a miracle you've succeeded as
well as you have!  The Consortium is afraid of you
both!  Think about what an accomplishment that is!
How much of their resources, efforts and
manpower have been diverted from their goals to
thwart you and Dana?"

He shivered, and swung his eyes away from her. 
"We haven't accomplished jack," he growled.
"Melissa's dead, and Dana's almost died how many
times...?"

Margaret shivered, reminded yet again of her other
daughter's murder.

"You should hate me."

"Fox!"  She was shocked.  "I could never hate
you!"

"Bill does," he said flatly.  "He blames me for
getting one of his sisters killed, and nearly
succeeding with the other."

"Dana's alive because you would not accept the
verdict," she said harshly, trying to get through to
him.  "Because you did not let anything stand
between you and the truth.  You found the cure for
her. For that, I will love you forever, Fox Mulder."

He lifted his head to stare at her, stunned.  "After
everything I've done to you and your family?! Mrs.
Scully!" She reached for him, hugged him close. 
He gasped at her touch, and she was startled. 
Then he crumbled, collapsing into her lap sobbing
hopelessly. Margaret held him gently, stroking his
hair and murmuring reassurances, until she felt him
finally relax, until he fell silent.  He did not move,
and she realized that he had cried himself to sleep.

(*Poor boy... so alone and hurting so much...  And
damn his mother for her selfishness!*)

She waited until she was sure he was really asleep. 
(*He must be awfully tired: to drive up to
Connecticut and back in one day, with all that
emotion bottled up inside!  He can stay here.*)

Once she was sure he would not wake up,
Margaret slipped out from beneath him and put a
throw pillow under his head.  She gently slipped off
his shoes, swung his legs and feet up onto the
couch, and then covered him with a thick crocheted
afghan.  She tucked him in, and planted a maternal
kiss on his cheek.

"Sweet dreams, Fox," she whispered.

She went upstairs to bed, feeling better than she
had since Dana and Charlie had left.

When she got up in the morning, and came
downstairs, there was a pot of coffee already
made. Her favorite mug was on the counter and
under it was a slip of paper.  There were three
words written on it:

\\Thank you.
      Fox.\\

She looked out into the living room, but the couch
was empty and the afghan was neatly folded. On
the coffee table there was a bouquet of pink roses,
with baby's breath and ferns, neatly arranged in one
of her lead crystal vases.  He had found it in her
china cabinet and she marveled that he had
managed all this without waking her; the china
cabinet's doors were notoriously squeaky.

(*Those are the roses he bought to give his
mother,*) she knew.  She went to the mantle and
pushed Dana's flowers --lovely pink-and- yellow
Peace roses-- a little to one side.  She picked up
the pink roses from Fox and realized, with a
secretive smile, that they were in the vase that
matched the one Dana had used. (*He couldn't
know that these vases were a wedding gift.*) She
set the matching vases side by side in the center of
the mantle, where she knew Mulder had not dared
presume to place his gift.  The more conventional
arrangements of mixed flowers from the boys she
left on the ends.

"There," she said to herself as she stepped back
to admire the effect. "I have four children again."

********** 
To be continued in 
The Chilmark Project Part III - Foxhunt