This story is meant to read as a MOTW episode, with this brief
portion being the teaser.

Title: Dance of the Blessed Spirits (1a/4)
Author: Marguerite
Classification: X (Case File), M/S friendship
Timeline: Season 7- some point after "Closure"
Keywords: NONE. Read at your own risk.
Rating: PG (mild language)
Spoilers: Paper Clip, Jose Chung's From Outer Space, Clyde
Bruckman's Final Repose, Gethsemane/Redux I/Redux II, Fight
the Future, Closure - possibly others.


Dance of the Blessed Spirits

*****

Happy Ridge Trailer Park
Barker Springs, Texas
Tuesday, 8:27 p.m.


Dolores Graves was used to all kinds of strange people in her
line of work, but until tonight she had never encountered
anyone who wanted to wear a mask during the seance. She found
the situation to be both bizarre and annoying. The mask made
it nearly impossible to get a reading on the man who wore it,
and being able to read people was bread and butter for any
good fake psychic.

In an attempt to conceal her forty-four years, Dolores colored
her hair coal-black and ringed her eyes with dark purple liner
to accent their violet hue. The general effect was part gypsy
and part ghastly. Tonight she wore a long black dress with the
butterfly sleeves that had been so popular in the 1970s. In
fact, she had worn this dress to her prom and hints of the
original mint green print were beginning to show through the
black dye. Dolores liked the effect the huge sleeves gave as
she waved her arms around, so she kept the lighting dim and
hoped no one would notice the dress. She often reflected that
the dress had held up better than her marriage to the boy who
took her to that prom.

Her daughter, Lacy, was stationed behind a closet door that
was hung with a two-way mirror. The man in the mask and his
pretty blonde girlfriend - who, for some reason, did not feel
a need to disguise herself but sat with her fuschia-nailed
hands on top of her handbag - could see their reflections in
the flickering candlelight if they were so inclined, but they
seemed intent upon listening to Dolores' voice rather than
examining their surroundings.

"Down, down, down we go into the world beyond our world," she
intoned. "It is there that we will see those who have gone
before."

On cue, Lacy rattled the doorknob with her chubby hand. She
was twelve and finally considered old enough to work the
seances like her older brother, Eugene. Her job was to appear
as a deceased child or a little old woman, depending upon the
rehearsed hints her mother gave her. Eugene's voice had
changed and now her mother depended on Lacy for the right
effect.

"Someone wants to come in!" Dolores cried. "Enter, O spirit!"

Lacy turned the doorknob in earnest but found that it did not
turn. Dolores could hear her sighing in pre-teen exasperation
with the world, and she could imagine Lacy pushing aside her
torn white veil to get a look at the recalcitrant knob.

"I can't," she hissed in a loud stage whisper.

Dolores frowned. "You can! You can join us here in the Upper
World and give these people a chance to talk to..."

At this point the attendees usually cooperated, providing a
clue like "Mama" or "my poor little baby girl," but these
people were silent. Waiting.

Dolores imagined Lacy's frustration at having no directions.
She was pleasantly surprised at the high-pitched voice that
emanated from the closet. "Is that you? Is that my little
boy?"

She didn't know Lacy could do accents. This one was a feminine
version of the masked man's, lilting in an unidentifiable
European way. Lacy continued, asking in a petulant tone: "Who
is this woman?"

The man whipped his head around to look at his companion. "She
is my...partner."

"Ha, partner. Where is your wife?"

"Your WHAT?" squeaked the blonde.

"MOTHER!" cried the man. Dolores was sitting close enough to
notice that his mask was darkening around the edges as sweat
began to soak the cloth.

"Why are you with this tart? Didn't I warn you to stay with a
girl from the Old Country?"

Damn, Dolores thought, Lacy watches way too much TV but it
sure comes in handy when things go wrong.

"Tart? Wife? WIFE?" The blonde stood up. "All these years and
you said...OOOOH!" Her verbal vocabulary seemed limited but
her repertoire of hand gestures was both comprehensive and
effective.

"Wait, wait," the man pleaded. "I can explain everything!"

"Too bad. I'm exposing you for what you are, you FRAUD! No,
not YOU, lady - HIM!" She opened her purse and showed Dolores
the little video camera inside, its lens opening where the
Dooney and Burke label had been removed. "We're not really
trying to contact anyone - we're just taping you. We tape
seances and we debunk them, and we make a LOT of money doing
it."

"Ohhhh," the man moaned, putting his head in his hands. His
dark hair seemed to be standing on end.

"Please, please!" Dolores begged. "Let us continue in peace.
I'm sure the spirit meant no disrespect. Sometimes they are
confused, angry..."

The man slumped in his chair, the blonde poking him in the arm
to make sure he was seeing her shoot the finger at him.

But he was beyond seeing anything. His body crashed to the
spotted vinyl floor, taking with him the checkered tablecloth,
a crystal ball that turned out to be made of sterner stuff
because it bounced and rolled away, and four greasy yellow
candles.

The blonde stopped shrieking and stared. "Honey?" she
whispered, poking him more gently. She listened to his chest
for a moment, then jumped up and shrieked again. "He's DEAD!
He's DEAD!"

"He's not dead," Dolores said in her normal voice, which was a
full octave higher and tinted with an East Texas twang. "He
just fainted."

"He's DEAD! He's DEAD!" Like a canary gone mad, the blonde
flapped around the room ineffectively for a few moments and
then darted out the front door of the trailer, still screaming
at the top of her lungs. Dolores could hear her outside,
yelling for dear life.

Inside the trailer, Dolores sighed. "Lacy, get out here right
NOW and help me get this poor man to wake up."

"Can't," the little girl's voice said truculently from behind
the closed door. "It's locked."

Dolores went over to the door and opened it with ease. She put
her fists on her hips and stared down at her daughter. "If you
hadn't done such a good job tonight, I'd give you the whipping
of your life for lying to me."

Lacy's round face was pale, her gray-green eyes watery. "But
Mama...hey, where'd they go?"

"No buts, young lady. Let's get some water down this guy and
see if he wakes up. I just hope he brought cash."

At the instant Dolores knelt beside the man and saw how white
he was, she got the first twinges of fear in her gut. A touch
to the side of his clammy neck confirmed her fear and she sat
back on her heels, eyes wide open. "Oh, my God, he's dead!
He's really dead!"

"Really? A real live dead guy? Wow!" Lacy reached for the mask
and pulled it aside, catching strands of dark, wavy hair in
the bands. "Hey, Mama, I seen this guy on TV."

"I have, too." Despite her revulsion, Dolores peered down into
the white face. "He's got a show and he sells video tapes. Son
of a...what the hell's his name?"

"The...the..." Lacy bit her lip for a second, then scooted
away on her bottom as if suddenly aware that a dead man was
not three inches from her. "Wait, Mama! I know! That's the
Stupendous Yappi!"

****
End Teaser

Dance of the Blessed Spirits - Part One

*****

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Thursday, 1:15 p.m.


Scully wasn't buying this for one minute. Not the phony
widow's weeds, not the genteel sniffling into a lace-trimmed
handkerchief, not the doe-eyed glances aimed squarely into her
partner's eyes. Not from this woman.

Sylvia Robinson was the name she wore on her visitor's pass,
which was clipped to the jacket of her exquisitely tailored
black suit. The neckline of the blouse was low enough to
expose considerable cleavage for such a thin woman, and the
skirt's hemline rose fetchingly each time she crossed her long
legs. Scully, who had vivid memories of Ms. Robinson and the
various roles she had played in Stupendous Yappi videos and
commercials, scowled at the police report from her perch on
the edge of Mulder's desk.

Mulder sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair with his
hands folded behind his head. He was not really looking at
Sylvia Robinson, just glancing at her from time to time and
obviously having trouble keeping a smirk from forming at the
corner of his mouth. Most of the time he looked up at the
ceiling as if counting the tiles for the thousandth time.

"She must have known who we were," Sylvia said mournfully.
"Surely she suspected - Yappi was a world-renowned psychic,
after all."

Scully did not even look up from her file folder. "According
to the police reports, Ms. Robinson, Mrs. Graves' daughter
identified Mr. Yap...uh...the deceased only after the mask was
removed."

"Of course that's what she would say."

Mulder sighed and shifted in his chair. "So you came to see
Agent Scully and myself because...?"

Sylvia straightened, batting her eyelashes at Mulder. "I
believe that Dolores Graves knew who we were and murdered
Yappi out of professional jealousy."

"The police report states..."

"I know, they say it was a heart attack. But I say..." Here
she leaned forward, displaying more of her bustline than
Scully would have thought possible. "I say that she felt
threatened and the only way around it was to take his life. I
say it was nothing less than murder."

Scully half expected the woman to add, "murder most foul," but
there was a heavy silence in the office.

"Scully, would you be willing to have a look at the late Mr.
Yappi? I see in the report that Ms. Robinson has had him flown
to the morgue at Quantico in expectation of our looking into
the matter." Only Scully could hear the mocking laughter
behind the deadpan delivery, and only Mulder would notice the
answering note of annoyance.

"Absolutely." Scully stood up and walked briskly past Sylvia
Robinson toward the door, showing a fair amount of her own
legs in the process. "I'll head on out there and get started
as soon as I can. Ms. Robinson, would you care to have us call
you when the results are in?"

"I...that is...I was hoping that Agent Mulder could give me a
ride to the facility so I could wait there. I'm so...anxious."

The squeak of Mulder's desk chair was not quite loud enough to
hide his chuckle. "My car's in the shop. But I'd be glad to
call you when I hear from Agent Scully."

Sylvia did not seem to care much for that answer and stood up,
stalking out the door with a disappointed sneer, leaving a
trail of Opium in her wake.

"Liar," Scully whispered as she went back to his desk and
leaned over to meet his eyes. "I parked next to you."

"You wouldn't leave me alone with that...barracuda, would
you?"

"Depends. You buying dinner?"

Mulder made a show of sighing and wringing his hands. "You
drive a hard bargain, Dr. Scully. The pub by that place?"

"Yeah, I'll probably need a drink by then. Sevenish." Halfway
to the door she stopped, and without turning around said, "Do
you realize that I actually understood what you just told me?
I'm not sure if I should be pleased or terrified."

As she shut the door behind her she heard muffled laughter.
"Terrified, Scully."

*****

Sandy's Bar and Grill
7:22 p.m.


"There's nothing stupendous about him, Mulder," Scully said as
she slid into the booth seat opposite him. "Pretty clear-cut
heart attack. No sign of foul play."

"He's a little young for a heart attack, don't you think?"

"I took a look at his medical history - by the way, his real
name was Gerald Putzman."

Mulder looked as if he'd taken an unexpected bite of something
sour. "Ow. I thought I had troubles."

"Anyhow, there was heart disease on both sides of the family.
His father died relatively young although his mother lived
until just a few years ago. However, his mother had a
degenerative coronary disease and it looks like she passed it
along to...Gerald."

Mulder signaled the waiter by pointing at his beer and holding
up two fingers. "I took a look at the video that Sylvia
Robinson left us. It's pretty interesting."

"Interesting how?" Scully took Mulder's glass and sipped from
it, unwilling to wait long enough for her own to get there.

"On the face of it, we're looking at a straightforward fake
seance. You can see the wires from the table up to the ceiling
and I'm pretty sure that the mirror on the closet door is a
two-way. It shouldn't have taken them five minutes to debunk
the whole damn thing." He leaned in closer. "There's one thing
that fascinates me, though. The operation that night was a
mother and daughter. The 'voice from the spirit world' that
came through wasn't the mother because she was talking at the
same time for a second or two. And it's a mature voice,
Scully, way beyond what a twelve-year-old girl would be able
to fake. Someone was in that closet with her. Someone...or
something."

"Mulder," Scully groaned, this time into her own beer.

"I want to go check it out. We can fly into Dallas first thing
in the morning, have a look, come straight back."

"Our track record of going to and coming back from Dallas is a
little less than sterling."
They stared across the table at one another until Scully
finally blinked.

Mulder smirked. "I'll buy dessert."

*****
Interstate Highway 635
East of Mesquite, Texas
Friday, 3:45 p.m.


"Might've been nice if they'd warned us that this place was
ten miles east of Nowhere," Mulder groused as he flicked on
the windshield wipers to carry away the latest onslaught of
kamikaze bugs.

"We're almost there. Mulder, look at that sign - 'Rodeo City
Music Hall.' Think anyone here gets the joke?"

"It's a joke?" Mulder grinned and peered over at her as she
compared the road map to her written directions.

"This is our exit. Turn right at the overpass and keep going
until we see the sign for 'Happy Ridge.'" She leaned back in
her seat, frowning at the dilapidated houses and trailers that
dotted the landscape. "One medium sized tornado could take out
this whole community."

"Probably has, and more than once." He steered around a small
pile of auto parts as he turned the corner into the entrance
of the Happy Ridge Trailer Park. They pulled up in front of a
yellow trailer with a hand labeled sign proclaiming it to be
the manager's office. Scully stepped carefully across the
unpaved ground, mindful of the pits in the dark clay earth and
grateful for Mulder's steadying hand on her elbow.

She knocked on the door while Mulder reached for his badge. A
short, stout man opened the door and eyed them critically.
"What can I do for you?"

"I'm Agent Dana Scully of the FBI and this is my partner,
Agent Fox Mulder. We'd like to talk to Dolores Graves."

The man took a cursory look at the badge. "We already had the
police out twice - the night it happened and again yesterday
to talk to Lacy. I'd say that little girl's been through
enough." His pronunciation of POH-leece made Scully's eyes
widen slightly and she turned to Mulder, cueing him to speak
next.

"We're not here to bother Lacy or her mother. There are just a
few details that we're curious about, that's all. It'll just
take a moment."

Scully glanced at Mulder, amused to hear the faintest hints of
a Texas accent starting to appear in his voice. He had
chameleon tendencies that turned up at odd moments and somehow
calmed people into cooperating. The manager's expression
softened a bit and he stepped outside to point out the correct
trailer.

"Thanks," Scully said as she headed up the trail to the space
numbered 47, taking out her badge this time and wondering if
they'd actually agreed to take turns or if it was just force
of habit. She knocked on the door. "Mrs. Graves? FBI. We'd
like to talk to you, please."

Dolores Graves answered the door, dressed in faded blue jeans
and a light pink t-shirt. Her hair was piled up in a banana
clip at the back of her head, and she wore no makeup. Her
mouth pursed a little as her glance fell on Scully's
professional grooming. "I've talked to the police already."

She pronounced it POH-leece just as the manager had.

"We understand that, Mrs. Graves, and we won't take up any
more of your time than we have to, okay?" Mulder was looking
directly into her eyes with his charm turned up full throttle,
and it worked the way it almost always did.

"Place is a mess. I had to let Lacy and Eugene" - which she
pronounced EWE-jeen - "go back to school today and I don't got
no help." She ushered them into the living room, gesturing to
the shabby furniture covered with worn but clean old quilts.
"Sit down. I'll get us some iced tea."

Scully looked around the room until she recognized the dining
area where the seances were held. Mulder was already on his
feet to follow Dolores into the kitchen. A chalk outline had
been partially scrubbed away. "Gerald, we hardly knew ye,"
Mulder muttered.

"'Scuse me?"

"Your guest's name was...well, that's not really important.
You'll probably be relieved to know that he did die of a heart
attack."

"Thank God." She picked up the three glasses of tea, then
stopped to face Mulder. "I mean, I'm just glad that Lacy won't
have to worry anymore. She thought we was all going to hell
for killing that man."

"Here, let me help you." Mulder took a glass for himself and
one for Scully and went back into the living room. He took a
sip of the tea and his eyes widened.

"It's swayt," Dolores said. "Hope y'all don't mind."

Scully turned the word over in her head for a few moments,
decided that the tea was 'sweet,' and braced herself for the
cloying taste of sugar. No matter the flavor, the liquid was
cold and soothed the dusty scratch at the back of her throat.
Mulder appeared to be weighing the option of slaking his
thirst at the cost of the hyperactivity sugar tended to
produce in him . He set the glass down on the coffee table.

"So tell me, Mrs. Graves," Mulder said without missing a beat,
"how you came to be in the psychic business."

Her laugh was brittle and hoarse. "Ain't much of a business,
tell you the truth. I used to be a switchboard operator down
at the fire department, but then they went to those
computerized phones and I was out of work. Went to beauty
school for a while, but I can't stand up for a real long time
so that's no good." She pulled up the legs of her jeans and
showed long, vertical scars that went halfway up each tibia.
"My asshole ex-husband, Jake, ran me down with the car when he
found out I was going to court over his not paying child
support. Broke both my legs and they haven't worked too good
since it happened."

"I'm so sorry," Scully said, her voice dark and sympathetic.

"So he won't pay nothin' and I've got two kids to feed. I'm
not much for learning new things, but one thing I can do is
read people. So I started this Madame Dolores thing, with
Eugene doing some little tricks and now Lacy to do the voices.
I didn't mean no harm, you gotta understand that. But no one
from my family's ever been on welfare and I'll be damned if
I'm the first." She set her jaw and looked straight at Mulder.
"So you can sit there with your fancy education and think I'm
pitiful, but let me tell you something - my kids are going to
school and they're gonna go to college if it's the last thing
I do. We're poor but we ain't trash."

Color rose on Mulder's tanned face, splotching his cheeks with
crimson. Scully found herself wanting to apologize for him,
for them both, but when she looked at Dolores she found the
woman smiling at her.

"So now we've got that settled, let me ask y'all something.
Does the FBI ever deal with hauntings and stuff like that?"

"Officially, no," Mulder said softly. "But if you have
questions, we're the people to ask."

"See, the thing is - you're gonna think I'm crazy..."

"Believe me, Mrs. Graves, nothing you could say will surprise
either Agent Mulder or myself."

She settled back in her chair. "Y'all saw the videotape that
woman made, right? You know the voice, the funny voice with
the accent? Lacy can't do that accent - and she says she
wasn't even talking but that the voice just came out of her
mouth and she couldn't control it."

"Wait, wait...she says there was someone else in her body with
her?"

Scully was prepared to see Mulder in his usual believer's
posture, body flung forward to the edge of the sofa, hands in
the air, but instead he sat back with one ankle neatly crossed
over the other knee, his fingers steepled but still.

"I don't know exactly what she means and she probably doesn't,
either, but if you ask her she can tell you all about it."
Dolores got to her feet and yelled down the short hallway.
"Lacy! Lacy Marie! Get on out here and talk to these folks!"

The door to the back bedroom opened and Lacy emerged, clad in
denim shorts and an N'Sync t-shirt. Her long brown hair
reached past her shoulders and swung slightly as she walked
into the living room. "Who're you?" she asked. "Do I have to
tell about that man again?"


"Just this once, honey," her mother said soothingly, drawing
Lacy to sit on her lap. "The lady is Agent Scully and the man
is Agent Mulder and they're from the FBI."

"Whoa, cool!" Lacy's round face lit up as she smiled, showing
her small, white teeth and the dimple in her right cheek. "Can
I see your badges?"

Smiling, Scully pulled out her ID case and passed it to the
little girl, then took Mulder's from his hand and passed that
along as well. Lacy examined them, giggling and pressing her
hand over her mouth. "Mama, look - his name's FOX!"

Mulder took back his wallet and stuffed it in his pocket with
a grimace at Scully, who was trying not to laugh. "What can
you tell us about the night of the seance?"

Lacy gave her mother a quick glance, then twisted a strand of
her hair around and put it in her mouth while she paused.
"Well, it was dark in there and we didn't know what these
people wanted, y'know?" she said, munching on her hair. "I was
in my white dress - it's actually Maria Torres' confirmation
dress that she outgrew - and I was waiting for Mama's cue. But
she didn't give me none and I was confused and the door
wouldn't open and it was too dark to see through that mirror
thing...and then..." She took the hair out of her mouth and
looked at her sneakers. "I don't remember nothing until Mama
banged on the door."

"You're sure?" Scully asked, leaning forward to look into the
girl's eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. Next thing I remember, I was getting out of the
closet and that lady, she was runnin' around the room like a
chicken with its head cut off and the man was on the floor."

"You didn't hear voices while you were in the closet?"

"No, sir. I didn't hear nothin' until..."

"ANYthing, Lacy," her mother prompted, pulling Lacy's wrist
until she let go of the strand of hair she had begun to gnaw
on again.

"Until she got me out of that closet. Anyways, that's all I
know. Mama, when do we eat?"

"As soon as these nice people are on their way and Eugene gets
off work. My son," Dolores said to the agents while Lacy sank
back for a hug, "works down at Albertson's in the produce
department. He'll be along in a few minutes."

"We won't keep you, then." Mulder and Scully rose in unison
and each extended a hand to Dolores. When Mulder took Lacy's
chubby hand in his, she looked up at him and her eyes were
suddenly very, very old.

"I was so happy to see you, Fox."

"Lacy Marie Graves, where the HELL are your manners?" Dolores
chided, poking her daughter's arm.

Mulder was standing stock still, gazing at the little girl
whose voice was suddenly so familiar.

"Fox, did you find it? I left it for you."

Scully crouched down on her heels and brought her face level
with Lacy's. "What did you leave?"

"My diary. I couldn't remember your name, Fox, I'm so
sorry..."

"What's the matter with you, Lacy?" Dolores' face was white,
but Mulder's was even paler as he listened to Lacy's answer.

"Oh, Fox, I'm not Lacy," she giggled in a voice that was
achingly unmistakable to Mulder as he struggled to keep his
balance. She reached up to him and wrapped her arms around his
waist, pressing her cheek to his heart.

"I'm Samantha."

*****

End part one

Dance of the Blessed Spirits - part 2 

*****


Scully watched Mulder stumble out of the trailer into the
evening air. Her stolid expression would not be enough to fool
an expert face-reader like Dolores, so she excused herself
with a nod toward the door and followed her partner outside.

He stood with his palms against his thighs, leaning forward as
if having trouble breathing. His head was lowered and his eyes
were closed, his lips twitching slightly.

"Mulder." Scully put her hand on his upper arm and gave it a
gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

"I don't know," he muttered, straightening his spine until he
was standing upright and looking down into her curious eyes.
"I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't prepared for it. The
journal."

Scully examined a speck of dirt on the toe of her shoe and
Mulder turned his face toward the sky. "I know you don't want
to hear this, Mulder, but all little girls keep journals."

His sidelong glance told her that she had made a fatal
misstep. " 'All' little girls? Did you have a pink leather
book with a tiny gold lock, Scully?"

Refusing to be baited, she rolled her eyes at him. "What I'm
saying, Mulder, is that Lacy's performance was hardly psychic.
More of a lucky guess."

"No." He held up his hand, palm outward, patting the air as if
it had substance, like a mime looking for the walls of his
box. "Sure, she could have guessed that my sister had a
journal, but how could she possibly know that her name was
Samantha? Think about it, Scully . No one knew we were coming
here, there was no way she could've looked up this information
on the internet, if they even have the internet , while we
were sitting with her mother."

"Mulder, no." Scully stood on tiptoe, placing her hands on
Mulder's shoulders. "I know you want this, but it's not what
you think. What you need." 

"You're wrong." He disentangled himself from her embrace but 
held her hands for a just a moment before releasing them. 
"Trust me, Scully."

Before Scully could form a retort, Dolores appeared in the
doorway, her face drawn and pale. "I can't get her to wake up.
She says she has to tell you something else before Lacy comes
back."

Mulder's face showed no surprise as he looked at Scully. "You
coming along?" Turning on his heel he headed back into the
trailer, Scully following with a frown creasing her mouth and
forehead.

Lacy sat on the sofa, her chin cupped in her pudgy hands. She
smiled as if aware of Mulder's presence even though she did
not turn her gaze to him. "Fox, that night you saw me - it
started out like all our other nights, clear and bright with
stars, but then I saw the new little girl, Amberlynn, and she
fit in so perfectly that I knew it was going to be a special
night. I'd been thinking about you and how you used to push me
in that rope swing in the back yard, and I got a vision of you
turning into a grownup. Then I saw you and I just knew that my
brother's name was Fox and he'd come to say goodbye." She
looked up at him. "You touched my face after all these years.
Like this." She reached up and he bent over so that she could
put her palms against his cheeks. "I'm so grateful that you
found me."

Swaying on his feet, Mulder looked down at her with tears
trembling at the edges of his eyes. His lips curved around the
name "Samantha" but nothing came out but a choked rush of air.

"I'm sorry, Fox. I'm sorry..." Lacy's eyes shut and when she
opened them again, the maturity and sorrow had vanished,
leaving the clear gray-green of an ordinary child. "Mama?" she
cried as she dropped her hands from Mulder's face.

"It's okay, baby!" Dolores threw herself on the sofa next to
her daughter and embraced her tightly. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I s'pose." She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "What's
going on, Mama?"

Dolores looked at the two agents and Scully saw themselves
through the mother's eyes, one hugging himself tightly against
some inner torment, the other standing erect, her face a study
in confusion and conflict. When she spoke, Dolores' voice was
gentle but decided. "I'm not sure, honey. But I think they can
help us."

Scully looked up at Mulder. She had seen these emotions play
across his face so many times that surely she should be
immune, but there was a softness in his eyes that drove reason
from her brain with the unexpected brutality of a cattle prod.

"Of course we will," she heard herself say.

*****

Ramada Inn and Rodeo Convention Center 
Room 724 
9:17 p.m.


"She really got under your skin, Mulder."

They had been sitting side by side, barefoot, on the lumpy
mattress of Scully's bed for half an hour, drinking tepid soda
and avoiding talking to one another. Mulder's shoulders were
slumped so far that it was difficult for him to shrug.
"Wouldn't it get under yours, Scully?"

"Maybe. If I were so inclined." She swirled the can to get the
last few drops of Diet Dr. Pepper. "If I were someone like
Yappi, I suppose the shock could even kill me. He'd been
'tracking' his dead mother for years, just like Houdini, and
with exactly the same lack of success. It pissed him off so
much that he started to debunk seances."

"Which is ironic, considering how much psychic bullshit he
sold over the years. Not to mention a certain alien autopsy
video starring my favorite redhead."

That earned him a grunt and a light punch on the upper arm,
but Scully still smiled the secret smile she reserved for
Mulder at his most exasperating. "Whatever, but I still wish I
knew why you never told me what you saw that night."

"I guess because I was afraid you wouldn't believe me. Because
sometimes..." His voice trailed off and he ran his fingers
through his hair until it stood up on end.

Smoothing down the dark brown spikes, Scully asked,
"Sometimes, what, Mulder?"

He looked miserable. "Because sometimes I wonder if you can
believe."

Scully jerked her hand away quickly and balled it into a fist.
She stared at a stain on the ceiling, anything to avoid the
accusation in his eyes. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed, more to
herself than to him.

"What will it take, Scully? What more proof do you need? Isn't
this exactly what your religion teaches you, that we don't
disappear when we die but that we watch over the ones we
loved?"

"I do believe that with all my heart. But Mulder..." Her voice
wavered just a little and she continued looking upward as if
the words she needed were just beyond the white glass of the
light fixture. "Sometimes I see you rushing into these things
with such recklessness...I do this for you. To protect you
from the things you want so much that you can't see how
they'll hurt you."

Just as she lowered her face to him, her cell phone rang. They
both jumped.

"Hello?" Scully breathed into the receiver as she flipped the
phone open. "Hello?" She listened for a moment, her features
arranging themselves into a thoughtful frown. "We'll be right
there." At Mulder's questioning look she said, "It's Dolores
Graves. A social worker is on her way over to take Lacy away."

Mulder was on his feet, trying to slip into the shoes he had
not bothered to untie. "Scully, I didn't mean..."

"Later. Much later." She slipped the phone into her pocket and
started to put on her shoes, but to her astonishment Mulder
was sitting tailor-fashion on the floor, slipping her right
pump on her foot. "Checking for Cinderella, or just
apologizing?"

"If the shoe fits." He looked up at her with genuine
contrition in his eyes. "Forgiven?"

"Throw in a foot massage and we'll talk. Right now, we've got
to keep Lacy with her mother until we know more about...the
thing."

It was her best offer.

***** 

Happy Ridge Trailer Park 
10:03 p.m.


They heard voices raised in argument: two women, a girl, and a
boy. Scully knocked on the door while Mulder put his hand on
his holster, just in case the argument was escalating. "Mrs.
Graves, it's Agents Scully and Mulder."

The door swung open with a loud creak. "Thank God," Dolores
said. "Make this woman understand, I didn't DO anything to the
man."

"Who are you?" asked a tall, middle-aged woman whose dyed
blonde hair was desperately in need of a root job. Scully was
so used to the southern accents she had heard all afternoon
that the sudden flat Midwestern vowel sounds were almost a
shock coming from this woman.

Mulder smiled and held out his ID card. "I'm Agent Mulder with
the FBI, and this is my partner, Agent Scully. We were
investigating the death of Mr., uh, Putzman. And you are...?"

She seemed immune to Mulder's charm. "I'm from Child
Protective Services. My name is Esther Houston." She
pronounced it HOWston, which Lacy found amusing enough to
warrant a giggle even though her round face was stained with
tears.

"Ms. HOWston," Dolores said with a mixture of fear and
contempt in her voice, "wants to take Lacy to a shelter. Can
she do that?"

"I'm not an expert in these matters," Scully said smoothly,
"but I'm very curious as to why Ms. Houston feels strongly
enough to come out at this hour and try to take a little girl
from her home."

"This girl was present for a man's death. Not only that, she
was assisting her mother in defrauding the man in question.
I'm considering a motion from her father to transfer custody
to him."

"What the hell for?" Dolores demanded. "He hasn't paid a
nickel in child support and I can't remember the last time he
called either of them on their birthdays or at Christmas."

The mention of the second child made Scully look over to see a
morose young man sitting limply on the sofa. His hair was
lighter than his sister's and his eyes were a watery, pale
blue. He looked at the two agents with disinterest, but when
he cast his gaze on his sister he looked terribly sad.

Esther shrugged. "I'm just telling you that Jake Graves is
very concerned for the welfare of his daughter. He doesn't
want her being raised in an environment where people are
cheating other people."

"That's a good one. Cheating. He should know." Dolores put her
fist over her mouth to cover a choking sob. "I'm sorry. I try
not to say anything bad about their father, but this...this
doesn't make any sense, taking Lacy and Eugene away from me
over what these people done said was an accident. You can't do
that, Ms. Houston."

"HOWston," The correction was terse. "And Mr. Graves didn't
say anything about taking Eugene."

Mulder's brow puckered. "Wait. He's concerned for Lacy because
of the situation here, but not Eugene?"

The boy seemed to make himself smaller, hunching into a ball
on the couch. Lacy ran over and put her head on his shoulder,
crying loudly with childish sobs. "I ain't leavin' Eugene. No
way," she hiccuped. "Not while that man's sister talks to me.
I'm scared!"

"It's okay, Lacy," Mulder said in a calm, even voice. "We
believe you and we're not going to let anything happen to
you."

Esther looked over to Mulder with a smirk on her dark red
lips. Her breath reeked of cigarettes and cheap coffee. "You
can NOT be serious. You're going along with this trailer park
hoax? You're willing to let a little girl be used for
pseudo-psychic garbage?"

"It's not garbage." Mulder's answering whisper was low and
dangerous. "And she's going to prove it to you. Come on over
here, Lacy. It's okay. No one's taking you anywhere."

Slowly, reluctantly, she sidled up next to him and rested
against his hip. Scully leaned over to him and whispered,
"Mulder, she's already got information about Samantha from
what you verified earlier. You can't use that as a test."

"I don't intend to. She's not going to talk to anyone from my
family - she's going to talk to yours."

"Mulder, no."

She wanted him to realize that she believed, when it was even
remotely possible, but that this was beyond her capacity. Her
analytical mind would stretch only so far, so far, and this
would surely break it just as the alien spacecraft in Africa
had done.

Then she looked into the frightened eyes of a little girl and
the pleading ones of a desperate mother and she could no more
resist than she could cut off her own hand.

"All right. Let's do this."

"Oh, for the love of..." Esther rolled her eyes.

"Ms. Houston, if we can prove that Lacy is telling the truth,
will you give us enough time to get counsel for Mrs. Graves?
Can you give us that much?"

"Oh, sure, yes. It's not like she's going to be able to
actually do it or anything." Her heavy shoes made a clunking
noise as she walked over the linoleum to the dining table.
"Let's get on with this."

Mulder sat at Esther's left with Scully on his other side, and
Scully held tightly to Lacy's hand while her mother completed
the circle. Eugene sat on the outside, watching, breathing
lightly through his open mouth.

Feeling trapped and nervous, Scully asked, "Lacy, can you find
someone from my family? Is there someone who wants to talk to
me?"

"Yes...I think so...she's here with me." Her voice took on a
more mature quality, unexpected in such a young girl. "She's
in me."

"Lacy, who are you?" Dolores asked with a quiver in her voice.

"I'm not Lacy." She opened her eyes and Scully could have
sworn that they were almost green now. "I'm Melissa."

The bones in Mulder's hand nearly cracked under the sudden
pressure Scully put on them as she struggled not to gasp. "If
you're Melissa, then tell me something I've never told
Mulder."

"Remember when Charles gave us those tiny little silver link
bracelets for Christmas? And you got into a fight with me over
the last piece of pecan pie and we arm wrestled for it?"

"God," Scully breathed, her hands becoming damp and shaky. "I
remember."

"You broke mine when you slammed my arm on the table, and Mom
told you to give me yours. You started crying, but Mom just
said to go feed the dog. Oh, you were so mad, Dana, and your
aura was blood red. I just sat at the table, grinning at Bill
because for once you were the one in trouble instead of one of
us. Do you remember what you did?"

"I fed..." Scully started, but Mulder stopped her with a
squeeze of her hand.

"Don't give her anything," he warned.

"We heard the can opener and Jack barking the way he did when
he wanted to be fed, and when you came back to the table the
bracelet was gone. 'If I can't have it, she can't either,' is
what you said. Remember?"

Scully felt a rush of grief so intense that she scarcely had
time to close her eyes before tears started to slip out, and
without a free hand to wipe them away they trailed down her
cheeks. When she opened them again, she could almost see
traces of Melissa's fine bone structure in Lacy's round face.

"Dad finally got it out of you - you'd slapped some Alpo on
the counter, rolled the bracelet up in the dog food, and fed
it to Jack."

Smiles broke out on the faces of everyone at the table except
for Esther, who was looking squarely at her watch.

Lacy continued in Melissa's smoky voice. "I felt so proud of
you for doing that. I helped you clean up after Jack for days,
waiting for that damn bracelet to make an appearance, and when
it did I washed it and polished it and gave it back to you.
You wore it on your first date."

"Stop. Please." Scully released the hands that held hers and
used her fingers to blot the tears as she rose and left the
table. "I can't hear any more of this. I haven't thought about
the bracelet in years. I can't..."

"It's all right, Dana. I'll go now."

Lacy slumped in her chair for a moment, then sat up straight,
blinking as if coming out of a darkened movie theater into
bright sunlight. "Did I do it?"

"Oh, for pete's sake," muttered Esther. "For all I know, these
two are your plants. I've seen enough of what people like you
can do...where's a phone?" She got up from the table, nearly
upsetting her chair in the process, and snatched the phone out
of Eugene's hands as he held it out to her. While she punched
in numbers and muttered into the receiver, Dolores took Mulder
and Scully aside.

"Is it true, what Lacy just said?"

"It's not only true," Scully said softly, grateful for the
strong grip of Mulder's hands on her shoulders," but she even
sounded like her. My sister. Melissa. She's dead."

"Scully, why don't you sit down for a minute?" Mulder's voice,
heavy and concerned, was all Scully could hear as she became
light-headed and the roar of a distant ocean started just
behind the shell of her ear. She let Mulder lead her to the
sofa while she processed this long-forgotten story.

"I don't want to believe this," she whispered. "I thought
somehow Lacy knew about Samantha, I don't know how, but
this...this is something I haven't thought about in years, not
since Melissa died. It was even her voice, down to the
inflection. I don't understand how she does it."

"I don't understand, either," Mulder said. His voice was
soothing, just audible above the sounds of Esther asking
questions of the person on the other end and the dozens of
rapid fire questions Eugene had for his sister. "But now you
believe."

Scully nodded, too drained to say another word. Esther crossed
the room and stood in front of her, hands on hips. "Well, your
FBI credentials check out, although I'll be damned if I know
why if this foolishness is any indication of your level of
work." She focused her steely gaze on Dolores. "My boss says
to give you a day to talk to a lawyer . That is, if you can
afford one."

Dolores stiffened. Mulder, his mouth in a thin, contemptuous
line, left Scully's side long enough to stand and glare down
at Esther. "If need be, I'll supply a lawyer. And you had
better ask Mr. Graves a question: does he want to get Lacy
away from the psychic business or does he want her to go into
it with him?"

He turned to Dolores. "Think about it. If he were concerned
with the welfare of the children, wouldn't he be concerned
about both of them? Why just Lacy - and why now?"

"That son of a bitch," Dolores murmured. "I wouldn't put it
past him for a cold minute. He never could hold down a job.
But how could he have found out about Lacy? That wasn't in the
papers."

Mulder folded his hands and sat down next to Scully again. He
glanced at her as if to ask her permission to make one of his
infamous leaps, and she answered him with as full a smile as
she could muster through the haze of tender memories.

"I think one of your neighbors must've told him about Lacy's
ability, and now he's looking to cash in."

The leap did not surprise Scully in the least. She almost felt
relieved.

"You're crazy. Hell, you're all crazy. I'm not staying here
one more minute," Esther grumbled, snatching up her handbag
and heading for the door. "I'm warning you - this situation
isn't fit for either of your children. I'll send Lacy back to
her father, and if her father doesn't want Eugene then we'll
put him in foster care, but they're getting out of this loony
bin one way or another." She threw the door open and stormed
out.

No one moved for a moment and a cool evening breeze wafted
through the trailer. After a moment Lacy raised her head,
squriming in her seat, breathing hard through her mouth in
panic. "We have to go after her."

"What the hell for?" her mother demanded.

"Mama, something bad's gonna happen to her. Someone's telling
me...someone wants to get even..."

Brakes squealed, tires churned in the gravel, and the
unmistakable sound of metal on metal was followed by an
endlessly blaring car horn.

Mulder got up and peered out of the open window. "Howston, we
have a problem."

***** 

End part 2

Dance of the Blessed Spirits - Part 3

***** 
Happy Ridge Trailer Park 
11:15 p.m.


The noise attracted dozens of people in varying states of
undress, all shouting directions to one another. Men swarmed
like bees to the crumpled car - men in shorts, men in
bathrobes, and men still in their work clothes rushed over,
not to gawk but to assist. Scully was still giving the
emergency operator their location when the teams went to work
with practiced skill.

"Wait, wait!" Scully shouted as she elbowed past the onlookers
until she was at the edge of the ditch where Lucille's car had
landed. "I'm a medical doctor - don't do anything until the
paramedics and fire department get here!"

"Aww, lady, we do this kind of thing all the time," drawled a
tall, slender man whose sandy blond hair was streaked with the
same motor oil that stained his hands. "We got all the tools
we need."

Scully leaned over so she could see into the car window,
wincing at Esther Houston's injuries. The woman's chest was
pinned by the steering wheel and her left arm hung at a highly
improbable angle. "Ms Houston, don't try to move. Help is on
the way." Esther turned her head and Scully could see that her
jaw was fractured, hanging loose in a grotesque parody of
astonishment. "Where the hell are the paramedics?" Scully
demanded.

"We're not really in what you'd call 'town,' ma'am. It'll be a
while yet," said one of the women as she watched in apparent
fascination. "Just let these boys do their thing and they'll
probably have her loose a lot faster than any ol' jaws of
life. Then the paramedics can get her to Medical City in no
time flat." She handed Scully a styrofoam cup of coffee.
"Here, hon, you drink this and you'll feel a lot better."

Scully sipped the acrid, strong brew, wishing there were some
way to dispose of it without insulting her hostess. She
watched Mulder talk to Dolores and Lacy; she could tell that
he was comforting them even without hearing their words. From
there Mulder insinuated his way into the knot of men, jacket
off and shirt sleeves rolled up. He seemed to be pointing out
something to the workers, but they just nodded and ignored
him, pulling closer to their task until Mulder was left on the
outside of the circle, a slump-shouldered onlooker. "Check the
brake cables," she heard him call out, but his words were
drowned out by the shrill squeals of power tools. Over the din
she caught snatches of converstaion.

"Brake cables ain't cut," one man said firmly.

"Accelerator's just fine."

"Looks like there's nothin' wrong here."

And finally, "Sir, could you just take a couple steps
backwards?"

In spite of her concern she smiled at his forlorn image, the
boy not allowed to play with the big kids. Out of the corner
of her eye she spotted another boy left out of the proceedings
- Eugene Graves. His pale gaze was pointed directly at her and
his mouth worked as if he had something to say, but before she
could make her way to him the ambulance and fire trucks
arrived, and somewhere in the resulting mele she lost track
of him.

"Okay, get a board under her neck and make certain her head's
not jostled - she's got at least a broken jaw," Scully shouted
at the paramedics. They seemed as unlikely to take her advice
as the metal workers had been, for they nodded as if humoring
her before turning back to their work. Exasperated, Scully let
her arms fall to her sides, and when she looked up she saw a
chagrined Mulder looking down at her, no light in his eyes.

"Think we've become invisible?" he asked.

"I don't know, Mulder- it's like watching an army of worker
ants. I've never seen anything like it."

The car squealed in protest as it was winched out of its
hiding place, the metallic howl almost loud enough to drown
out the whining siren as the ambulance sped away. The
firefighters accepted cups of coffee from the women and got
back into their trucks as if nothing out of the ordinary had
just happened.

"We get folks stuck out here all the time," one of the
residents said to the agents as he dusted his hands off on his
faded jeans. "Half the time they're on their way before anyone
official can get out here to lend a hand. Did y'all get some
of the coffee?" He turned his head and called to the women
nearest the accident scene. "Don't you go puttin' that away
until these folks have had their share. And I could do with
another cup, myself."

A middle-aged woman in a print housedress appeared with a
glass carafe that had clearly seen better days. Before Scully
could warn him about the toxicity of the brew, Mulder was
given a steaming cup of jet-black coffee. He sipped, wincing,
as the man spoke to him. "We looked at the brake cables like
you said, but there's not a thing wrong with 'em. I guess she
was just driving without paying attention and hit that ditch
pretty fast."

"There's no sign of tampering?" asked Mulder, who was licking
his teeth as if in fear of incipient corrosion.

"There wasn't nothin' wrong with that car but the driver. Now
if you good folks will excuse me, I've got to be at work
tomorrow early. Y'all have a nice night."

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had gathered, leaving no
one outside but the two agents and Dolores Graves, who was
sitting on the front stoop of her trailer. She lifted her
tear-streaked face to Scully. "Are they gonna try and blame
this on me, too?"

"I can't imagine how. Yes, you argued with Esther Houston and
she met with an accident, but your whole family was in the
trailer the entire time and the men who looked at the car
didn't see any signs of tampering." Scully rubbed her eyelids
with her fingertips. "In all likelihood, Ms. Houston wasn't
paying attention to her driving - she was probably very upset
by what she saw." Quietly, as if to herself and Mulder alone,
she added, "God knows I was."

She was gratified to feel Mulder's presence just close enough
to send some of his comforting body heat to her. "What I
suggest is that we all get a good night's sleep and talk in
the morning. Agent Scully will check out your ex-husband and
see what kind of motives are driving him to demand Lacy but
not Eugene."

Scully shot him a look that plainly asked what the hell he
would be doing during that time.

Mulder sat on his heels and gave Dolores his most engaging
smile. "I'd like to spend a little time with your daughter.
There are a lot of questions she can answer for me...us."

"Mulder, we need to go. Now. Good night, Mrs. Graves - keep an
eye on the children and let us know how they're feeling
tomorrow morning." Scully half dragged him up, her hand
remaining on his arm until they reached their car. She spent a
few moments judging the terrain around them before putting the
car in gear and leaving the trailer park behind in a cloud of
dust.

"Okay, Scully, what's this about?" Mulder asked mildly.

"Mulder, you can not use that girl for your own single-minded
purposes. It's just not right."

He turned toward her with that familiar, annoying, smug smile
she always wanted to wipe off his mouth with a fist. Or a
kiss. "So, Scully - you believe that she's legit."

Dammit, she thought, he's trapped me. She gripped the steering
wheel, her fingers growing stiff with strain. "I have to admit
that she's got me stumped. That memory of Melissa was
something I'd almost forgotten. I know it's something I never
told you."

The smile melted, replaced with a sobriety Scully seldom saw
in him. "There are a lot of things you never told me, Scully,"
he murmured, angling his body toward the window and the
endless night sky before them.

Her throat constricted, leaving her dangerously close to
tears, but before she could succumb to her emotions she heard
and felt thumps coming from the back of the car. "What's
that?"

"I don't know - but I think it came from the trunk."

They both got out of the car, weapons at the ready. Scully
pressed the trunk release on the remote and the hinge
squeaked, revealing Eugene Graves curled up around the spare
tire, his light blue eyes squinting at the intrusion of the
street lights.

"Hey," was all he said.

*****


Ramada Inn and Rodeo Convention Center 
Room 724 
12:56 a.m.

 Junk food, junk food everywhere and not a bite to eat,
Scully thought as she watched Eugene plow into another
cellophane-wrapped treat. Mulder sat in the matching vinyl
chair on the other side of the little round table, eagerly
taking a bite of a Hostess Twinkie. He offered the other one
to Scully, who demurred with a little grunt of distaste and
took a seat on the corner of the bed. Outsider. Infidel.

"I needed to talk with y'all and I didn't know how else to do
it without Mama around," Eugene had told them as they'd
collared him and put him on his feet. Mulder's response had
been immediate - forget calling his mother, Mulder had told
her, let's take him to the motel and feed him until he tells
us what we want to know. Scully made a quick phone call to
Dolores Graves to assure her that Eugene was well and safe
while Mulder and the boy went to the snack machine to see how
many quarters could be spent on sugar and fat.

Now the "menfolk" were enjoying the fruits of their plunder.
Scully's feet hurt and her head was both spinning and aching
with the night's events. Eugene took a swallow of Mountain Dew
and settled back in the chair. "I guess y'all are wondering
how I got in the car," he said.

"Among other things," Mulder answered in a dry tone.

"I wanted to talk about Lacy, but with the wreck and all there
just wasn't any time. So I went back into the trailer and
found your keys. I hit the remote trunk lock and snuck in.
It's real hot in there," he added, taking a long swallow of
his soda.

"I can imagine." Scully, nearing the end of her patience, sat
up straighter and looked the young man in the eye. "So what is
it that you couldn't tell us in front of your mother, Eugene?"

Sadness made the gaunt face even more pitiful that it had
seemed before. "It's kind of a long story. You see, when Dad
first left us it wasn't so bad because our Gramma - that's
Dad's mama - was still alive and she kinda looked out for us
and made sure he didn't ignore us too bad. But she was real
old and she died a couple years later."

"And since she died, your dad's paid less and less attention
to you?" Mulder asked, handing the boy a piece of kleenex
along with another Twinkie.

"Yeah, that's right. The real bad thing is that Lacy don't
remember Dad too well anyhow. He left when she was just four
and by the time she started school he was...busy a lot. Then
it got real shitty." Eugene's pale cheeks flushed. "Sorry,
ma'am," he muttered at Scully. "Lousy, I mean."

Scully didn't suppress her smile as she looked into Eugene's
eyes. "That's okay. We all say those things once in a while."

For the first time the boy directed his narrative at Scully
rather than Mulder. "This might sound sorta sissy, but I took
to visiting Gramma's grave. The cemetery's between school and
the Albertson's where I go to work after school. Gramma always
liked to visit folks' graves. I mean, no one was coming to see
her 'cause she was so old when she died and all her friends
was gone already. She said she could sorta communicate with
them. The dead people, I mean."

"What happened when you went to visit her grave?" Scully
asked. She felt a little electric shiver at the base of her
neck as she recalled a sudden closeness to her sister when she
came to put flowers at her marker.

"Nothin' at first, but after a while I started to feel her.
This is so weird," he grunted, twisting around so that neither
agent could see his face. "You ain't gonna believe me."

"Try us," Mulder murmured. "You might just be surprised."

Eugene wiped his nose with the kleenex, then stared at it as
if he had forgotten how it came to be in his hand. "Okay,
then. I actually got to where Gramma was talking to me. She
sounded happy, like she had something really special she
wanted to share with me. Then after a few more days, I started
hearing these, like, voices. Only in my head. But they were
REAL!" he cried, turning his blue gaze to Mulder and Scully in
turn.

"The same voices that, uh, talk through Lacy...?" Scully
asked.

"I suppose. See, Gramma said that the voices would make me
special and that maybe then Dad would want me back. But I got
to thinking. See, Lacy's better than me at school and she
should get to go somewhere nicer than here, like where Dad
lives. They got a real nice middle school out there and, well,
Lacy needs to get an education like Mama wants. I'm gonna do
okay at Albertson's and all, but she - well, she's just a
little kid and she needs more than what I got, you know? So I
asked Gramma to make her special instead of me."

When Scully looked over at Mulder, she saw that his eyes were
shimmering. Dangerous tears, she called them, the ones he shed
over victims and unfortunates, the ones he would never allow
for himself, the ones that often led him to do reckless
things. She needed to ground him now, before something
outrageous could occur to him. "Eugene, I understand how much
you care for your sister - but don't you think you should've
asked her if she wanted to be 'special' before you made her
that way?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I should've. But, like I say, I ain't too bright.
This was all I could think of to do."

"You'd give up your chance to be with your father, for an
education and a chance at a better life, and give it to Lacy?"
Mulder asked softly as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

Eugene glanced from Scully to Mulder, the shape of his future
adult face showing plainly in the lamplight. "Yes, sir -
wouldn't you?"

Mulder lowered his head and shaded his eyes with one hand.

The sudden knock on the door took all three of them by
surprise. Scully rose from the bed and found Dolores Graves
waiting outside, her car keys in hand. "I'm so sorry about
this," she said as she beckoned to her son with one finger. He
walked over to the door but kept looking back at Mulder and
Scully as his mother said, "Eugene, let's go and let these
folks get some rest."

Scully tapped her finger against the corner of her mouth, her
eyebrows raised, and Eugene mirrored the gesture to remove a
crumb. He gave her a crooked smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, Eugene. Agent Mulder and I will come out
tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Thank you," Dolores said, wrapping her arm around her son. "I
hope he wasn't too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Scully assured her. "We'll see you in the
morning." She closed the door behind mother and son and
paused, dreading the moment when she would have to turn back
and witness Mulder's self-flagellation. A squeak came from the
direction of the bed, and a sigh, and when Scully turned
around she saw Mulder lying on his stomach, his head buried in
his folded arms.

Fox Mulder - traumatized genius, crack agent and believer of
crackpots, thought Scully, what am I supposed to say to you?
You're lying there, thinking about the hundreds of things you
did for yourself instead of your sister, never dreaming that
someday you'd be without her. I can't imagine your terrible
world, Mulder. Let me in.

As if reading her mind, Mulder turned over and began to speak.
"I resented giving her half of my candy bar. I got mad when
Mom went to her ballet recital instead of my Little League
game." His brow furrowed. "I was a spoiled little prep school
kid, Scully, but would I have done what this boy - who lacks
every advantage I had - is doing now?"

"Mulder, you can't think like that. You were just a little
boy, even younger than Eugene is. I was the same way with
Melissa - and I was a terrible tyrant with Charlie because he
was the only one I actually could kick around. Your
relationship with Samantha was completely, utterly normal."

"Maybe." He ran a speculative gaze over her. "So. Scully. What
were you thinking when Melissa was talking to you?"

"It wasn't Melissa, it was Lacy," Scully answered, grimacing
when Mulder let out an exasperated groan.

"Did you hear one word of what Eugene said just now?"

"I heard a lot of things coming from a teenaged boy who's
terrified of being alone. Do I think HE thinks he's telling
the truth? Yes, I do. Do I believe it? Mulder, I..."

"Scully, don't. Just stop." He took a slow breath. "We both
know what we've experienced. You're the one who insists on
evidence and now you have it - not in your hands, but in your
head. In your heart." He looked up at her, imploring her to
give him this one gift. "Please, Scully. Don't deny yourself
what you know is the truth."

There were a few beats of silence.

Enough time for a choice.

Scully approached the bed, her arms folded, her head tilted at
an angle so she could look into her partner's eyes. "Okay,
Mulder, enjoy it. I'm only going to say this once."

"Give it to me straight," he responded in a low growl as he
sat up, and Scully was glad to see some sparkle in his eyes.
"What do you think about Lacy Graves?"

Scully leaned over him, placing her hands on his shoulders,
her face so close to his that she could smell the remnants of
his after-shave and the acrid coffee he had consumed earlier.
Looking straight into his eyes, she whispered four words.

"She sees dead people."

*****

End part 3

Dance of the Blessed Spirits - part 4

*****


If he wanted to laugh at her or exult in being right, he
showed no sign except for the slight smile flickering around
the corners of his mouth. Instead, he nodded, squeezed her
hand, and pressed his forehead against hers. "Thanks, Scully."

She pulled just far enough away to be able to examine his
face, a face so familiar that she could read every thought as
if it were her own. "You're welcome, Mulder." Her hands
traveled down his arms in a brief caress, then she stepped
back. "And you need to get some sleep."

"I'm already on a bed." His leer was touched with something
else Scully couldn't quite register, something wistful,
perhaps, or something as simple and yet impenetrable as
sorrow.

"Nice try, Mulder. But I don't want any part of the sugar rush
you're about to have, so get upstairs to your room and let it
wear off."

"You're sure you don't want me to work it off...?"

Scully's throat constricted as Mulder was unable to finish
even this most familiar of innuendoes. "Out. Now." She gave
him what she hoped was a playful shove toward the door,
ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he showed her as he
looked back over his shoulder. Even when she closed the door
behind him she could hear his footsteps slowing down as if he
were checking behind him for some sign that she had relented.

Scully toed off her shoes and sat tailor-fashion on the bed,
which was still warm from Mulder's body heat. She ran her
fingers over the bedspread until the last vestiges of his
presence cooled. When she looked up she caught a glimpse of
herself in the mirror, noticing for the first time in years
the way her cheekbones and chin resembled Melissa's.

A wave of nostalgia washed through her and threatened to spill
over through her brimming eyes. With a low moan, Scully lay
down and pulled the blanket over herself without even
bothering to get undressed.

Her sleep was uneasy, full of dark dreams where she could
almost but not quite catch the bullet that tore through her
sister's head, or where she was nearly in time to give her
father a nitroglycerin pill, or where she reached through a
swirl of incense that turned to noxious gas fumes. Or where
she clasped Teena Mulder's hand and started pulling her to
safety, when she heard the oven timer go off.

Rhythmically.

Phone.

Scully let her fingers scrabble blindly on the nightstand as
she sat bolt upright, gasping as if coming up for air after
being held down in murky water. With an effort she controlled
the harsh intake of air and picked up the receiver, rubbing
her grainy eyes with the other hand. "Uhm...Scully..."

"Scully, it's me. Did I wake you?"

"Mulder...what time is it...?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, Scully. It's almost seven and I thought you'd
be up already."

Slowly, on leaden feet, Scully sat up and turned toward the
spot where the curtains didn't quite reach the edge of the
window. Sunlight was streaming in and she blinked rapidly,
tearing up at the unexpected brightness of day. Perhaps, she
thought, they were tears for the countless failures she had
experienced in her night wanderings, but she wiped them away
with the back of her hand as she spoke to her partner. "What's
up?"

"I just got a call from Dolores Graves. Her ex-husband has
shown up at her door with presents for Lacy and a demand that
he get to spend some, and I quote, 'quality time with the
little sweetheart.'"

"That smells bad," Scully said around a yawn.

"Like last week's fish. Dolores is pretty freaked out, but she
doesn't want to have the police in there again and she's
asking for our help. How soon can you be ready?"

"I'm on my way to the shower now. Give me ten minutes."

"You're on your way to the shower? Ooh, Scully, I'll be there
in five."

Scully smiled, relieved to hear the hint of recovery in
Mulder's voice. "Just for that, Mulder, make it fifteen. And
it's your turn to bring coffee." She hung up on him, still
shaking the cobwebs of the night before out of her head as she
walked into the bathroom. She was careful not to check her
reflection in the mirror.

*****

Happy Ridge Trailer Park 
Saturday, 8:47 a.m.


Once again the sound of a heated argument was clearly audible
outside the trailer. Scully stood on the stoop and rapped her
knuckles sharply on the door. "Mrs. Graves? Are you all right
in there?"

The man who answered was small-boned and slender, like Eugene,
but with Lacy's blue-gray eyes. "So you're the FBI people,"
Jake Graves said, as he looked Scully up and down.

"That would be us," Mulder responded, holding up his ID.
Scully saw the difference between Graves' work-callused hand
and the smooth skin and tidy manicure of her partner. "I'm
Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully."

"Ma'am," Graves said with a nod. He did not even glance at her
badge, a fact which annoyed Scully in no small way.

When they came inside, Scully noticed that Dolores was holding
tightly to Lacy, stroking the girl's long hair. Eugene was
standing behind them, hands on his mother's shoulders, head
bowed. Scully acknowledged them with a reassuring smile before
turning back to the newcomer. "Mr. Graves," Scully said, "I'm
interested in your attempt to have Lacy placed in your
custody."

"Like I told Ms. Houston, I heard on the news that a man died
during one of Dolores' fake SAY-ances. That ain't no way for a
child to be brought up, so I put the papers out for getting
custody."

"People put 'papers' out for a dog, Mr. Graves." Mulder's tone
was as bland as his impassive face. Only Scully recognized the
dangerous set of the jaw, the twitching of the cheek muscles.
"If you're truly concerned for the well-being of your
offspring, why aren't you taking them both?" He waved his arm
at the stack of presents, still wrapped in pink paper with
pink bows. "If you want to make up for lost time with your
children, why only Lacy? And why now?"

Graves' mouth fell open. Scully, reminded of Mulder's joke
about last week's fish, had to fight back the urge to smile.

"I'll tell you why," said Dolores Graves. She pointed a finger
at the father of her children while clasping Lacy tightly to
her side with her other arm. "He's out of work again and he
thinks he can make a quick buck out of Lacy. What're you gonna
do, Jake - take her to Bossier City and see if some dead guy
can find out which slot machines are paying off? Or will you
go all the way and get her a 900 number and a spot on the
Psychic Friends Network?"

Her ex-husband stood toe-to-toe with her and waved his hands
in front of her face, scarcely missing his daughter's flushed
cheek. "You're a fine one to talk! Lookit this stuff - crystal
balls, velvet curtains, scaring some poor bastard to death and
prob'ly stealing his wallet..."

"That's enough," Mulder said, interrupting by holding his hand
up between the two combatants. "This isn't about either of you
- it's about Lacy. And if either of you had any sense, it'd be
about Eugene, as well."

"What's the boy got to do with this?" Jake sounded more
annoyed than curious.

"The 'boy' - your son - is the one with the real power, Jake.
You've let the gravy train leave the station without you."
Mulder motioned at the white-faced young man. "He's the one
the spirit originally contacted, trying to give him a special
gift. Eugene's an outstanding young man and he gave the
ability away to his sister, hoping for a chance for a better
life with you. But he overestimated you, Mr. Graves. He didn't
know what you'd really want from such a special child."

"Eugene's nothin' special. I want my daughter! Man, if she's
the real thing, then I can..."

"You can. You." Mulder shook his head. "Mr. Graves, this isn't
about you. And if you were any kind of a real father, then
you'd understand that."

Lacy buried her face in her mother's bosom and began to sob
quietly. "Ssh, Lacy, honey, it's okay, it's all right."
Dolores smiled when Eugene moved to their side and dropped a
shy kiss on Lacy's temple. "We're smarter than you, Jake
Graves. We know exactly what you're up to and we don't need or
want your handouts. Get the hell out of our house. Now."

Scully moved forward to stand guard over the mother and
children, daring Graves with her eyes to try something,
anything, that would give her a reason to put her most
constrictive pair of handcuffs on him. Mulder, a full five
inches taller than the little man, merely stood with his hands
on his hips in a gesture that opened his suit jacket just
enough to show his gun holster.

Graves seemed to lose an inch of height as he stumbled toward
the trailer door. "You ain't seen the last of me," he howled
as Mulder slammed the door behind him and locked it securely.
They could hear his footsteps in the gravel outside, pacing
around the trailer like a bear around a campfire.

When Lacy turned her head, her cheeks were glistening with
tears. "I don't understand," she sobbed. "You did this to me,
Eugene? How come?"

He put a clumsy hand on his sister's shoulder. "I'm sorry,
Lacy. I thought it was for your own good. Honest."

Dolores hugged both her children, looking up at the agents
with pleading eyes. "Isn't there any way to get this to stop?
To just go away?"

Scully pursed her lips. Mulder was looking at her, waiting for
her to say the words that would seal her avowal to him, that
she believed. That she believed. "I think we'd better let the
spirit answer that question herself," Scully said.

Mulder's grateful smile warmed her to the depths of her soul.

All five of them walked to the kitchen table and sat down.
Lacy was at the head of the table, her left hand extended to
Scully, whose left hand was in Mulder's right. Dolores and
Eugene completed the circle. Her face still damp, Lacy took a
deep breath. Her eyes closed and her red lips trembled as if
she were fighting against the spirit bubbling to the surface
of her consciousness. The room was silent for long moments,
then at last she spoke in a voice that sounded like thirty
years' worth of cigarette smoking.

"My name's Frances Little. I suppose I'm the one y'all've come
to see. So to speak."

Mulder leaned forward. "Talk to us about why you're here, in
Lacy."

"Well, that's kind of a long story. Eugene knows most of all
why I'm in his sister, because he put me here." Lacy leaned
forward and put her hand on her brother's arm, but the smile
was that of a much older person. "He's a good boy. His
grandmother told me all about him."

"That's fine, Ms. Little, but suppose you tell us about why
you're out here when you're supposed to be..."

"Dead?" She laughed, an unsettling combination of an adult's
chuckle and the giggle of a little girl. "I died in November
of 1976 when the bus I was riding slid off the road in an ice
storm just outside Huntsville. At first I didn't know what
happened because all of us seemed to be together and we didn't
feel bad - but then there was this bright light. We all
started to head there, but one at a time people turned around
because they were called back. Someone was so anxious to be
with them again that each and every one got to go back to
life. All but me."

"Jake's mama was on that bus," said Dolores. "Somehow, even
though the bus was in a bunch of pieces on the side of the
road, only one person died."

Lacy  took a straw out of a mayonnaise jar on the table and
began to roll it back and forth between her index and middle
fingers as if it were a cigarette. "That was me. You see, I
never got married or even had close friends, so when I was at
the edge there wasn't anyone to pull me back. None of my
family cared much -  they  divided up my stuff and saw that I
got a decent Christian burial, but nothing more. See, you have
to be really loved to be brought back - or truly mourned to
get to move on. I'm neither, so I'm stuck here. It's only the
people like us who are what you'd call 'mediums,' the folks
who can communicate from the dead to the living."

"So you were able to convince other people to...speak through
Lacy?" Mulder asked.

"Sure. They all want to talk to someone they loved, especially
when that's the person who mourned them enough to send them on
to eternity. But their only chance is to go through someone
like me who's caught in between."

"How did you choose this family?" asked Scully.

"Oh, I know their grandma. She came to my funeral even though
she'd just gotten out of the hospital and had a broken wrist.
Once in a while she'd even clear up the crabgrass around my
stone, and she'd sort of talk to me like I was right there
with her. I liked that about her - I was sorry when she came
through here on the way to the light, because she was a way
for me to hear about the folks back home. When she told me
that Jake had divorced Dolores and was being a real bastard
about the kids, I felt bad for her. Then Eugene started to
visit her grave and that's when I got the idea. I figured he
might be willing to talk to me, but he decided on Lacy instead
and I went along with him."

Lacy's body shuddered as if she were aware that she was
talking about herself through another person's voice. "Anyway,
since Dolores was doing this seance stuff, I thought it'd be a
fun way to keep in touch with the world."

"What about that man who died? Was that really his mother?"
Dolores' voice was shaky as she asked the questions.

"Some folks aren't happy with how their loved ones turned out.
They love it when there's some way to let the living know that
they're screwing up. Old Mrs. Putzman, she was thrilled to
find out that she could get one last dig in at her son."

Scully tightened her hand around Lacy's. "Ms. Little, what's
happening to Lacy is something she doesn't want. It's making
her unhappy."

"I know that. I'm really sorry. The boy and I thought it would
be a good idea but really it wasn't. Thing is, I've waited all
this time and contacted all these people, trying to find out
what it feels like. You see, everyone gets to pull someone back
once, maybe twice, if they want to bad enough." Lacy's gaze
rested on Mulder and Scully's joined hands. "But you two know
that already, don't you?

"Yes," whispered Mulder, stroking Scully's knuckles with his
thumb.

"I want to know what it feels like when someone wants you to
live so much that they come and get you. I've looked and
looked, but no one I found really knew." She sighed. "Until
now. If I could just know how it feels to be right there on
the edge and have someone call for me, pull me back..." Lacy's
shoulders were hunched and shaking, and tears poured down her
face.

Scully fought back the sour taste that invaded her mouth every
time a memory of her Antarctic experience was set off. Her
voice shook as she said, "Mrs. Little, you can look inside me
if you want to know what that was like...if you promise to
leave Lacy Graves."

"Scully," whispered Mulder. "What are you doing?"

She opened her eyes long enough to see the concerned furrows
in his brow, then she leaned over until her shoulder brushed
his. "I'm giving her what she needs to know, Mulder. What she
needs to be freed."

"I won't hurt her, Mr. Mulder," Lacy said softly. "I just want
to feel it, that's all. Honey, I'm ready when you are."

Mulder's fingers tightened convulsively around Scully's, and
in a blinding flash she saw herself through his eyes, naked
and frozen in an alien pod. She was dead yet alive, deadalive,
something foreign and horrible sucking the very life from her
entrails as it denied her breath, breathing for her, against
her, from the inside. The light was there, right there, and it
would be so warm...

She could see Mulder smashing a canister against the wall of
ice, perilously close to her face, hear the cracking of her
frozen underwater prison, feel the vibrations as he called her
name until finally, finally, she was able to vomit up the foul
substance the aliens had put down her throat and feel instead
the comfort of human fingers and the unexpected warmth of a
single, salty tear. There was no more light, only Mulder...

Her mind went back further, to a hospital bed, her body so
cold that nothing could warm it, worn down to nothing but
bones, so thin, so cold, so thin, so cold...the pain behind
her eyes so sharp that she wanted to cry out with each
shuddering breath...just lie down and sleep, sleep, let
yourself be washed away toward the brightness...so easy to
slip away, no more pain, no more suffering...

She felt the softest touch of Mulder's fingers at her temple
followed by a slight dip in the mattress as he pressed his
mouth to the pitiful thinness of her wrist, heard him take in
a sobbing breath, and oh, she wanted to comfort him but her
eyes simply could not open, she was too tired...suddenly the
light was extinguished and her soul told her body to fight for
just one more day, another minute with him...

...because he called her back.

"He called you back," Mrs. Little's voice said softly, as Lacy
released the hands she held and moved to kneel in front of
Scully. She wrapped her arms around Scully's waist and buried
her face in her lap. The woman spoke one last time. "Thank
you, honey. And may God bless you."

The lights flickered once, twice, and went out for a few
seconds. By the time Mulder had scrambled to his feet, the
power returned and the room was bathed in fluorescent light.

Scully stroked Lacy's hair, rocking back and forth with tears
sparkling at the rims of her eyes. "It's okay now, she's gone.
You're all right, Lacy. You're all right."

Mulder's arms went around her from behind and he held tightly
to her. "Scully," he breathed, and one last time she felt her
soul being pulled toward him.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said, hoping that the bravado of the
words would, for once, fool him, but when she looked up into
his face she saw raw terror in his eyes. "It's all over now.
There's no one in Lacy but Lacy - Ms. Little told me so just
as she went...through me."

Dolores was on her knees, wrapping her arms around her
daughter and breathing harshly through her mouth. "Oh, my God.
Lacy...Lacy..."

The girl's eyes opened and she scrubbed at them with her index
fingers. Her expression was perplexed rather than fearful.
"Mama? What happened?"

"You're going to be just fine now, Lacy. These people helped
make you normal again. You're my little girl again, oh, my
God..."

"She isn't in me anymore?" Lacy asked, her lower lip trembling
just a little.

"No, honey. Miss Scully helped her get to Heaven. Now she's
with Granma and Jesus, honey, and you're my own baby girl."

Lacy's next question stunned everyone into silence. "Is Daddy
still out there?"

Eugene got to his feet and checked through the window. "Yep -
he's right outside the Torres' trailer. Want me to go get
him?"

"Nope." Lacy stood up and dusted the knees of her jeans off,
and her grin was that of a little girl. "I just got something
to do, that's all. I'll be right back."

The others watched as Lacy threw open the door of the trailer.
She rounded her shoulders a little and made a rough coughing
sound in Jake's direction. "You!" she shouted.

The little man stared at her.

"Look at you, Jake Graves - betting your money on car races
and girlfriends and ignoring your own children, your own flesh
and blood! I'm ashamed of you!"

"M...m...mama?" Jake stuttered.

"Shiftless! Worthless! You selfish, pig-headed..." Lacy's
chubby fists went to his chest, beating it while he just stood
there and made incoherent noises. "I should've never told you
that I put that money under the floorboards in my bedroom,
because you probably dug that up ten minutes after I was
cold!"

Jake turned white. He fumbled for a moment in his pocket until
he found his car keys, then dashed to a dark green truck
parked haphazardly next to Dolores' trailer. Without another
word he gunned the engine and sped away.

"Lacy!" Dolores ran to her, wringing her hands. "Oh, God, that
woman's still in her - she was talking just like Jake's
mother! And now he's run off to find that money..."

Lacy's childish giggle bubbled over and she threw her arms
around her mother's neck. "Mama, that was just me. I made it
up." She grinned over her shoulder at Mulder and Scully. "He
sure does run fast, huh?"

Dolores wrapped her arms around her and Eugene joined them,
all three laughing and crying at once. From the tangle of arms
and legs, Dolores mouthed the words "thank you" to the agents.
Mother and children retreated into their home and closed the
door behind them.

Mulder spoke to Scully without actually turning in her
direction. "Think that's the end of Dolores Graves' psychic
career?"

"I think we can bet on it, Mulder." She saw a shadow pass over
his face, different from the ones she had seen since his
mother's suicide and the news of Samantha's ultimate fate. It
was the one she saw those last days before her cancer went
into remission. She nudged his clenched fist with her thumb,
running her fingers around the tightness until he relented and
let her thread her fingers through his, then she brought their
clasped hands to her lips and kissed the base of his thumb.

He looked down at her with surprise on his face, the
expression peculiarly endearing. "What's that for, Scully?"

"For coming to get me, Mulder."

And, for once, they stood in the Texas sunshine with nothing
to fear.

*****

End "Dance of the Blessed Spirits"


Thank you, Barbara D., for your friendship, kindness, and way
with words. Like the song says, I'm nothing without you.

Feedback, if you're so inclined, would make all that
Thanksgiving cooking and cleaning go faster -
Marguerite@operamail.com.