Genesis
Ally

Chapter 3

FBI Field office, San Diego. 9:41a.m.

Special Agent in Charge John Wickham turned out to be every bit as helpful as Scully had hoped he would be. An imposing figure he stood a couple of inches taller than Mulder's six feet, and absolutely towered over her small frame.

The stern statement he habitually wore had transformed in to a wide grin the minute they had stepped through the door to his office though, and Scully immediately recognised the obvious respect he had for Mulder as he shook his old friends hand warmly.

"Hey Fox, it's good to see you, even if I had to entice you with the promise of a case."

Mulder smiled noncommittally and shrugged by way of apology.

"You know how it is, work gets in the way."

"Save it, man. Things can get kinda crazy around here too." His eyes flittered across to where Scully stood off to one side and Mulder gestured toward her.

"John Wickham. My partner, Dana Scully."

Wickham smiled appreciatively across at her and extended his hand which she shook briefly.

"Pleased to meet you, Dana. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, have you indeed." She raised an eyebrow at Mulder who reddened slightly.

"Relax, Scully. I only enlightened him as to the more praetorian aspects of your personality."

Before she could respond, Wickham punched her partner lightly on the shoulder.

"If she's corrupt, Buddy, it only stems from working alongside you for so long. This man . . ," he informed Scully, "could corrupt anybody. Even back at the Academy I can remember him being. . ."

He got no further as Mulder, who didn't like the conversational turn, jumped in abruptly.

"About this case," he ventured.

Wickham nodded, but refused to let Mulder off so easily. He winked at Scully. "We'll talk later," he promised.

Despite herself, Scully couldn't help a grin. She had warmed immediately to his easy nature and the way he had welcomed them effortlessly in to his domain. She got the sense that she was going to like him, that he would become a welcome ally to them both, and it was evident that Mulder held him in a high regard.

It was something she rarely saw in him, mostly due to his in built suspicion of those he didn't know well, respect from Mulder took a long time to earn. She herself had discovered that the hard way.

Her thoughts turned to the job in hand as Wickham handed them each a folder, very similar in content to the one she had seen back in Washington. She forced herself to remain professionally detached as she turned the pages.

"Basically, what you see there is what you get," explained Wickham. "As far as we can tell, there's no motive for a kidnapping, no estranged husbands or partners, no disgruntled neighbours or delivery men. The Mother had no enemies as far as we can tell, and we've got no witnesses except her and she hasn't been much use to us. It's obvious though that the kid didn't just wander off because aside from the Mother's injuries at the scene, she would have turned up by now. We've checked with family services and they don't have the family listed on the at-risk register so it's unlikely that there was any abuse involved. All reports suggest that this kid was well loved and well cared for. It's like she just disappeared off the face of the earth, and the Attorney General has got my butt in a sling."

Mulder raised his eyes from the file.

"News coverage?" he queried.

"Yep. Regional and national. Papers too. No response. Aside from your usual variety of cranks who insist they've seen the kid playing with fairies at the bottom of their gardens or being carried away by little green men. No offence, Fox."

Mulder waved his hand casually, none taken.

"You said you'd interviewed the mother?"

"Extensively. I'm not sure whether it was the bump on the head she received or whether losing the kid has tipped her over the edge, but she talks as if she's a walking testament to the corruption in our fair land. Raving about conspiracies and how she's known that they would find her. How she should have left town before it happened."

He paused and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I tell you, Buddy, it's got me chasing my tail. Normally I would've chalked it down to experience, but I got kids of my own, y'know?. I can't just give up on it. Someone knows where this child is and I'm afraid that if we don't find her soon they'll be nothing to find . . . except maybe a body, and I seen enough of those to last me a lifetime."

"They won't kill her," mumbled Mulder, almost to himself. "They need her."

"What do you mean?" Wickham's keen hearing had picked up the words and Scully silently sent her partner a warning not to divulge too much to this man, because friend or no friend, if they voiced their suspicions they would find themselves on the next plane back to Washington. She needn't have worried though. Realising his mistake, her partner covered himself adeptly.

"C'mon John. How many profiles have you written on kidnappers, huh? There's no such thing as a motiveless kidnapping, the crime occurs to serve some sort of agenda in the perpetrators mind, monetary gain, revenge, whatever, and until that need is filled he must keep his victim alive, because if he were to kill them, then the bargaining tool is lost, as is the reason for the crime. What we need to do is to get in to the mind of the kidnapper, because only by understanding him can we begin to understand his motives, and by comprehending them we can begin to look for a suspect."

Wickham shook his head.

"OK, consider me put firmly back in my place. Once a profiler always a profiler huh, Fox?"

"Yeah, well," Mulder countered easily, "when I'm not chasing after little green men toting ray guns, it's what I do best."

"So you're gonna draw up a profile on this guy?"

Mulder shook his head.

"Not yet. I think Scully and I need to take a little side trip to see the girl's Mother. She's still in the hospital, I take it?"

Wickham scratched his head.

"Yeah, and I can't see her leaving any time soon. She's pretty drugged up, you'll be lucky to get anything coherent out of her, I know I didn't have much success."

"I'll take my chances," Mulder declared with a small smile. "you never know what effect my boyish charm will have on her."

Wickham grimaced in disgust.

"Yeah well, I wouldn't hold out much hope of that. I'll get you some directions to the place, but I'll warn you, this woman didn't exactly keep up her medical insurance premiums. It ain't exactly what you could call The Ritz."

*********************

Little Sisters of Mercy State Sanatorium. San Diego. 10:45a.m.

"My God, Mulder, just look at this place."

Scully wrinkled her nose in disgust at the dank depressing surroundings she found herself in, turning in a slow circle as she took in the crumbling walls and the peeling wallpaper.

Everything was painted a dirty institutional grey, and it was painfully obvious by the bubbled texture from the damp underneath that it had been years since it had seen a paintbrush. The building was old and decrepit and the air held an unpleasant smell of stale urine that no amount of disinfectant could mask.

Some attempts had been made to brighten the place up and small pots of flowers rested on every available surface, but even they seemed to be wilting under the oppressive atmosphere and they appeared drab and forlorn.

The inadequate strip lighting cast flickering yellowish shadows over everything and when Scully raised her head to look above her, she observed that out of the five lights, only three were actually working.

Government cut-backs were one thing, but squalor was something else entirely. It offended Scully, as a doctor, that such places existed. She questioned the level of medical care which was transferred on to the patients who resided here, and was smart enough to realise that such care did not really exist.

This was the kind of place where society sent its misfits. To remain forever locked in a cycle of neglect and drug induced haze. It was a place to be forgotten in.

She turned questioningly to Mulder.

"Why would they put Mrs. Stevens here?" she queried, "I understood that she was mentally unsound, not dangerous."

Mulder's mouth had set in a grim line as he surveyed the bars on the windows and the panic buttons on the wall, noting sourly that they appeared to be the token gesture with regards to the present day.

He was feeling pretty ropy still despite regular intakes of Tylenol and what he saw only served to worsen his already disagreeable mood.

"I don't know, Scully," he admitted and then gestured to where the receiving desk stood, seemingly unmanned. "Let's find out, huh?"

It took almost twenty minutes for anyone to respond to Mulder and Scully's presence, despite the repeated ringing of the service bell which was located to the left of the desk. They could hear it's sound echoing around the deserted corridors, bouncing off the bare concrete floors and Mulder's patience was quickly running short.

Eventually though, faint footsteps could be heard hurrying toward them and suddenly a door behind the desk opened and they found themselves facing a short middle aged woman in a white nurse's outfit. She appeared flustered and harried, her dark hair escaping the confines of it's French knot and hanging messily around her face.

She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of apology.

"Sorry. Staff cutbacks, y'know."

Mulder however was in no mood to exchange pleasantries. He pulled out his badge and displayed it unceremoniously to the woman.

"Special Agents Mulder and Scully. We're here to interview a patient of yours."

The nurse scrutinised their FBI credentials and hurriedly tucked the errant hair back up under her white cap.

"I see. And the name would be?" she inquired.

"Mrs. Christine Stevens."

Scully observed a subtle difference in the nurse's facial statement as Mulder informed her of who they had come to see and she swore that just for a second something akin to blind panic crossed her face.

"Is there a problem with that?" she ventured.

Instantly the nurse smoothed out her statement, smiling apologetically at the two Agents.

"I'm sorry, but that would be quite impossible at the present time. The patient is heavily sedated and is not able to see anyone. Her mental state is extremely tenuous and any outside contact would be quite damaging to her. I have orders from her Doctor that she be kept absolutely quiet and undisturbed. I'm sorry. Maybe you could come back tomorrow."

Mulder glanced uneasily at Scully.

Something was wrong here, he was sure of it, and judging by his partner's guarded statement she was experiencing similar suspicions.

"We work for the Federal Government," he pointed out, "and it is imperative we be granted access to Mrs. Stevens. We believe she can furnish us with information which is critical to the ongoing investigation regarding the disappearance of her daughter."

The nurse however was not moved by his plea. Again she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have my orders. The patient is not to be disturbed."

Seeing her partner's statement harden, Scully laid a warning hand on his arm.

"Look," she cajoled, "I'm a medical doctor. Fully trained, and I can assure you we will do nothing which will compromise the health of your patient. I understand your need to shield her, but you also have to understand that the life of a four year old child is at stake here and every minute we waste is compromising her well being. We only need five minutes. Don't make us get a court order. It just wastes everyone's time, including yours, because we will be back."

The nurse shifted her eyes around guiltily, as if she were afraid of being seen, and then swiftly unlocked the door which led through to the receiving area.

"You can have five minutes with her and that's it, but I'm warning you she's not in very good shape."

Mulder pushed past the nurse quite unable to disguise his dislike of the woman.

"Five minutes is all I need," he barked. He inclined his head, bestowing a smile on the woman that was anything but friendly. "After you."

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