From: ceilidh_o@yahoo.com   
      
   TITLE: Disciple (Part 4/4)   
   AUTHOR: CeilidhO (rrooomsy_heckels@h...)   
   CATEGORY/KEYWORDS: X-File; MSR; AU- Casefile   
   RATING: R, probably, for violence and occaisionally disturbing   
   descriptions of criminal activity. Warning: Involves violence   
   against children.   
   SPOILERS: In theory, everything up to "Fight the Future".   
   DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, and intend no copyright   
   infringement. All characters and ideas are the property of Chris   
   Carter, 1013, and the FOX network. No profit will be made.   
   SUMMARY: What if Scully had accepted the transfer to Salt Lake City?   
   Five years later, a horrifying murder case reunites her with Mulder,   
   even as it threatens to rip her new life apart.   
      
      
      
   - - - -   
      
      
   XI   
   The Twelfth Disciple   
      
   Scully stared around the room wildly, her head in turmoil,   
   completely frozen with shock.  The room was thick with sudden   
   silence, and as the suspended second passed, they sprang into   
   action.  Mulder was at the computer in a second, his eyes scanning   
   the screen hurriedly.  He slammed his fist down on the table in a   
   strange gesture, half angry, half triumphant.   
      
   "The son's name is Jude.  I'm bringing up the birth records now."   
   He typed furiously.  "There!  His full name's Judas Laurence   
   Hoffman."  He turned to them, his lips thin and white.  "So it's   
   true…  That's his twelfth Disciple."   
      
   Dan was pale, his eyes over-bright.  "His own son…" he breathed.   
   Scully could see him holding the mental image of his own daughters   
   to his breast like a talisman, protecting against the proof of the   
   unbelievable monstrosity he was hearing.   
      
   Paring was still in the position he had frozen in when Scully had   
   first spoken.  He looked up at them blankly, unnervingly like a   
   small child.  "What do we do?" he whispered.   
      
   "We work fast."  Scully said.  "Dan; we knew that Hoffman owns   
   property.  Search the database and find out what and where.  Alex;   
   think carefully.  Where might he take the boy?  Work with Dan on   
   that, so you can narrow it down a bit.  Mulder and I will head   
   straight to his house.  When you find out where you think he is,   
   call us and then call upstairs to get teams to search everywhere   
   that's a possibility, and to provide emergency back-up for us.   
   We'll be at the primary site, the one that seems most likely.  Is   
   that all right?"   They stared at her in blank wonderment for a   
   moment, and then began to move.  Dan replaced Mulder in the computer   
   chair, and quickly scrawled an address down on a scrap of paper,   
   double-checking it on the monitor.   
      
   "This is his house.  Good luck."  Mulder grabbed his jacket and they   
   began to stride out of the office.  Scully heard Paring clear his   
   throat quickly, and then he reached out and put his hand on Mulder's   
   arm, gently, a slight touch, an infinitely intimate farewell.  His   
   mouth opened with difficulty.   
      
   "Be safe, Mulder."  It was all he said, but his voice and his hand   
   conveyed a world of feeling and pain.  Scully felt her heart twist.   
   Mulder understood in a sweep of expression, a thousand emotions   
   flickering over his face in a moment.  Then he smiled softly, and   
   held Paring's gaze in sympathy.   
      
   "I will," he said, and it was enough.   
      
      
   They were out of the office in seconds, sweeping down the hallway to   
   the elevator.  Scully could feel her pulse pounding and her mouth   
   dry up as she began to comprehend the reality of the situation.  As   
   the elevator doors parted the images flickered before her: the   
   gasping blue lips, the trickling blood, the unfurling wings stark   
   against the sky, a small crooked finger protruding from the dancing   
   grasses.  Above them all was the ice-cold memory of glittering black   
   eyes, piercing and watching, reducing her to nothing as the wind   
   blew her away.   
      
   The elevator spat them out in the lobby, and then as they passed the   
   tall pillars and the noise of their feet echoed and ricocheted to   
   the ceiling, the second elevator spat them out into the parking   
   garage where they ran to Scully's car, ran as if they were pursued.   
   The tires squealed as the shining top of the car disappeared past   
   the sleepy guard, on into the night.   
      
      
      
   *The man was back in his shelter at last, Inside, into the great   
   studio of his Art.  The Shining Thing, his Masterpiece, lay at his   
   feet, twitching and moaning in its rude, animal way.  Soon it would   
   sing as his Art bit into its back, flowing from his heart onto the   
   silken white Canvas, creating a miracle of Beauty.   
      
   The first stirrings began as it struggled against the rough edges of   
   the ugly chains that bound it, beginning the red marks that would   
   soon begin to leak Holiness as it struggled.  It was a pity that   
   they all marred their Canvases like that, but it couldn't be helped.   
      
   As he felt the stirrings gain in hunger, he slipped off his clothes   
   and luxuriated in the feel of the warm candlelight.  He gazed   
   thoughtfully at the Masterpiece, and, whispering his own prayer, he   
   stepped forward and began to Carve.   
      
   The screams were every bit as powerful and as beautiful as he   
   expected, every bit as beautiful as the screams of the choirboys who   
   had been the first Canvases.  As the Art had slipped from his hand,   
   from their throats had torn notes they had never hit in practice.   
      
   Such was the power of Art.*   
      
      
      
      
      
   Scully ran a red light in a heavy roar from the engine, her foot   
   hitting the floor as she ripped the car around a turn onto Victoria   
   Crescent, sliding to a stop on the wrong side of the street.  Her   
   neck bobbed sharply as they hit and mounted the curb, and she was   
   out of the car as soon as the engine was silent.   
      
   The tall, narrow house facing her was dark and silent, brooding   
   behind the strip of grass and shrub that passed for a front lawn.   
   She and Mulder ran softly across the street and tiptoed up the steps   
   to the front porch.  Her throat was throbbing with the strength of   
   her pulse, and her hands shook as she slipped her gun from the   
   holster at her back.  Spots were exploding in front of her eyes,   
   luminous as fireworks against the dark.  She could see the pale   
   gleam of Mulder's face across the door, and she could see the   
   droplets of sweat lit like will-`o-the-wisps in the faint orange   
   glow from the streetlight.   
      
   Mulder raised his hand and held up all five fingers, and after a   
   suspended moment dropped one.  Scully nodded, her tongue thick in   
   her mouth.  She knew they were both remembering the eyes.   
      
   Three.  Two.  I don't want to die.  I feel like I'm drowning.  One.   
      
   They threw themselves at the door in perfect unison, and they felt   
   it rip and tear away from the frame under the weight of their   
   bodies.  They stumbled forward into the blackness, each pivoting in   
   unconscious obedience to their drilled, trained and hardwired   
   brains, rotating on the balls of their feet to find their danger   
   spots.   
      
   Corner.  Side.  Stairs.  Opposite room.  Other side.  Behind.  Above.   
      
   Nothing.   
      
   They looked each other in the eye, and then Scully nodded.  In   
   unison, almost back-to-back, they searched the ground floor.  In   
   each room, Scully felt her ears sing as they entered, adrenaline   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)