Dragons of The Sight (1/2)

[Sheryl Martin]

All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No
infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...
I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh...

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl...@tvo.org

Jackie St. George belongs to me, natch...

Summary: A series of blinding attacks send the trio on a search.
Rating: PG for disturbing images, Story, Paranormal...

Dragons of The Sight (1/2)
by Sheryl Martin

The full moon illuminated the front yard of the small two story house; the
white paint glowing oddly in the darkness. A set of wind chimes jingled a
sweet tune; hanging out one window on the second floor where the window was
open, propped with a thick volume of the encylopedia.

Inside the young boy slept fitfully in his bed; under the poster advertising
the newest release of Star Wars and beside the tattered piece of blanket that
he would just die if any of his friends found out that he still had. A breeze
stirred a lock of the blonde hair, and he murmured as he flipped onto his
back.

The hand clapped over his mouth roughly; the scream muffled by the wind
chimes as they jangled loudly in the strong wind.

"You will learn to See..." The deep hoarse voice whispered in his ear. "You
will See..."

Then the world went dark.

*********

"You must have a death wish." The blonde looked up at Mulder. "She's in an
extremely foul mood today."

"Why?" Mulder raised his hands sympathetically. "Rosie, she had a week's
vacation with her fiance and I didn't bother her once. Well, except for that
phone call, and I swear Scully put me up to it." He beamed at the woman.
"Really."

She didn't wilt under his high intensity charm. "She just got a new
prescription for her glasses and they need to be stronger."

"Glasses?" He frowned. "I never see her wear glasses. Never thought she used
them."

"Why do you think they're being replaced?" She tilted her head to one side.
"Add that to Marty flying out to Seattle for a job interview with this new
consulting group; and she's in a foul mood... I've already taken all the
breakables out of..."

A sound of shattering glass came from behind the closed door. Rosie
continued, not missing a beat.

"...the office, except for her drinking glass. Which is now an ex-glass."

"Well, I'll risk it." Waving at the blonde, he opened the door and walked in.

The first thing Mulder noticed was St. George's hand twitch towards her face,
probably to remove the offending item. Instead the Canadian sighed; a deep,
tired sigh.

"What is it, Mulder? I'm really having a bad day." She gestured towards the
floor. "And watch out for the broken glass. I kinda had an accident."

"So I see." Deftly sidestepping the shards, he laid a folder on her desk. "I
was wondering if you wanted to tag along for a case."

Raising her eyebrows, she flipped open the folder as Mulder droned the
particulars.

"Two children in the same small town were blinded in the past six months;
their eyes gouged out while they lay in their beds." He nodded in response to
the unasked question. "Drugged, certainly. Removal of both eyeballs; bandages
applied while the kids were still unconscious."

Jackie didn't flinch as she stared at the stark colour photographs. "Good
thing I skipped breakfast."

"The first one, Janet McCall, remembers hearing someone climb in through her
window... unfortunately she suffered memory loss from the trauma, obviously."
A finger pointed at another. "Five months later, almost to the day, David
Thompson - the same thing. Both ten years old and that's where the
resemblance ends. They attended the same school; but that's natural in a
small area like theirs. But they had different friends; different classes;
different likes and dislikes... no connections whatsoever."

"And no suspects." St. George offered. Mulder nodded.

"And that's the rub. Two in six months have the community baffled and scared
stiff. Already the sheriff's had to quell two disturbances where they started
throwing accusations at each other while having a town hall meeting to try
and figure this one out. He's asked for FBI assistance ASAP before someone
gets lynched."

"But why blind the kids..." She tapped a pencil on her front teeth. "And more
relevant, why ask me along? This isn't exactly in my jurisdiction, as you
know."

"Ah..." Mulder dropped his eyes to the floor. "Scully's been feeling a bit
unwell lately... I can tell. And they just dropped this one on my desk, and I
want to go work on it. But she won't tell me when she's ready to stop - you
know how she is."

"I do." Jackie smirked. "And she'd kill me if she knew you were here asking
me to keep an eye on her and babysit her."

He shrugged. "Well, she wants to keep working..."

"And she'd kill me for saying yes." Pushing her chair back from the desk, the
woman got to her feet. "But if she asks, I'm telling."

"Agreed."

"And thanks for not saying anything about the glasses." She sighed. "My
birthday's this month and I'm feeling like such an old Dragon."

"Well, you were warned that if you kept doing it you'd go blind..."

*********

Rosie wrote briskly on the note pad "Buy Plastic Drinking Glasses"; pausing
to scratch her nose with the tip of the pen. A loud crash came from behind
the closed door.

Without missing a beat she wrote "Nail Bookcases to Floor."

*********

"So what are we looking for?" Scully hid a yawn as the sun started to creep
over the horizon. "I'm assuming that you've done up a profile on this
attacker already."

"Right there." One hand on the steering wheel, Mulder dug out a folded piece
of paper with the other and handed it to her. "Male, middle aged - probably
living in the area since he's picking out his targets over time. Strangers
usually stick out in small communities."

She nodded. "Strong enough to scale the tree beside one of the houses and
able to dose the kids with ether - a bit of medical knowledge..." Flipping
through the pictures, she shook her head. "But not much - the way he did the
eyes wasn't very complicated. Or pretty."

"But why the eyes?" St. George pushed the glasses further up her nose,
grumbling under her breath. "I mean, why not kill the kids?"

"He doesn't want to kill them; just blind them." Mulder shrugged. "There's a
variety of possible psychological reasons he might be doing it - anger
towards family members; maybe the loss of a younger brother or sister...
Right now I don't have enough to guess."

"And the town is panicked." Scully noted.

"Totally." Mulder agreed. "Two of them within six months. Windows are being
nailed shut; school activities cancelled... it's turning into a lynch mob
just waiting for a target."

"So we're assuming it's a male, probably white... living in the community."
St. George yawned. "Hell, we've got it solved already. Let's make dinner
reservations."

********

The hospital was small but functional; the light blue walls and pastel
curtains adding a homey touch to the private room where David Thompson lay in
his bed. Sitting beside him and holding his hand sat the mother; her face
drawn taut by fear and anger.

"Hi, David." Mulder pulled up a chair to the bed, looking at the pale face;
the bandages still wrapped around his head and face. "I'm Special Agent
Mulder, with the FBI."

"The FBI? Cool..." A trace of eagerness came into his voice, quickly dampened
by the reality. "I guess you're here about what happened, huh?"

"Yes." Mulder looked at the anxious mother. "I just wanted to check on what
you told the sheriff."

"He's tired." Mrs. Thompson said quietly. "They want to start rehabilitation
in a few days. There's a blind volunteer who already wants to start teaching
him how to find his way around."

"That's good." Mulder nodded. "Do you remember much about the attack, David?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't. The doctor says that I have a memory
loss." The youngster shrugged. "I just remember the wind blowing in through
the window... and then it all disappeared until I woke up and started to
yell..." His hand went up to the empty sockets. "They say I'll be okay..."

Scully reached out and touched his arm. "You'll be fine, David." With a nod
to Mulder, they left the mourning mother and her son.

Once in the hallway, Mulder shook his head. "I don't think the family's
involved. They ran a search on the parents and it came up empty."

Scully crossed her arms. "Unless they just want the publicity - but then
there's the other family. I doubt two of them in the same town would try this
- maybe sickness, but not intentionally maiming their children." She gestured
down the hallway. "That must be the volunteer."

A man strode purposefully towards them; his white cane efficiently rapping
from side to side as he came closer. Humming a soft tune, he stopped
suddenly.

"Excuse me..." He smiled uncertainly. "I know someone's there - can I help
you?"

Despite herself, Scully smiled. "We're here to help out on the Thompson
case."

"Oh, yes... poor David." The man sighed. "It's going to be hard to teach him
how to survive in a world where you're the odd one out." He extended a hand
into the air. "John Taltem."

Mulder took it. "I'm Agent Mulder - Agents Scully, St. George. We're
investigating the other blinding that happened a few months ago."

Taltem frowned. "Yes, I'm working with Janet as well... You think you'll be
able to catch this kook?"

"With any luck, yes." Mulder hesitated. "Can you think of any reason why
anyone would want to hurt them?"

The blind man shrugged. "Maybe they saw something they shouldn't have... or
maybe they didn't pay attention or something like that..." He rapped the cane
on the floor. "Sometimes I don't regret losing my sight so I don't have to
see the pain on their faces..." The humming resumed. "If you'll excuse me,
I've got to go see David. Got to start somewhere..."

Back in the car, Mulder drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "There was
a letter left behind at each of the attacks." He looked down at his note pad.
"You will See. Capital on the S."

"Strange, considering he's just blinded the kid." Scully commented. "We've
got it in already for analysis?"

He nodded. "Along with the usual tests. But obviously this person thinks that
somehow he's helping the children."

"To see... Maybe he's referring to their intuition; their 'second sight'."
Jackie offered. "Many blind people develop skills far beyond sighted ones."

Scully looked into the back seat. "But that's to compensate for being blind.
I doubt that you'd find many people willing to give up their sight to build
up their other senses." She turned back to Mulder. "Delusional, my guess.
Maybe he thinks that somehow he's helping the kids by taking their vision
away. Or that he's saving them from not seeing something or someone..." She
paused. "Maybe they saw something that they didn't realise; something that he
doesn't know they're unaware of."

"Possible." Mulder pulled the car into the parking space. "The Sheriff says
that he's made copies of the notes before sending them off to our lab - we'll
get a look at the copies and then figure out which trail to go on."

*******

Sheriff Matheson was peeved, to say the least. Pushing his cap back, he shook
his head sadly.

"I've got no experience in anything remotely like this." Handing Scully and
St. George small styrofoam cups of coffee, he sat down behind the desk as
Mulder sipped his own cup. "I mean, two kids in six months... and the
community is right on edge about it; looking behind themselves and wondering
who it could be..."

"Sheriff..." Scully started. "Has there been anything in the last year or so
that could be related to this? Some case where witnesses couldn't be found;
something where children were involved?"

Mulder took up the thread. "We're pursuing a theory that the man wants to
somehow mutilate possible witnesses to a crime. Or that he thinks they might
have seen something. Or that the children are representative of witnesses who
testified perhaps at his trial."

Matheson stared at him. "This psychological stuff is still shaky in my mind."

"In mine too, at times." Mulder smiled.

Pursing his lips, the man leaned back in his chair. "Can't say that anything
leaps to mind. Gillerton's a small place; a happy place. We don't get much
crime here; much less a murder. We've had ten murders in the past ten years;
an average we're darned happy about. And in the last year..." His forehead
creased with thought. "Can't say that anything happened. No major trials for
anything like that."

"What crimes did you have?" Scully prompted.

"A few cases of robbery; a few sexual assault..." He sighed. "That was hard
to prove - the witness was as upset on testifying as the victim as the
criminal. But we did get a conviction on that one." Shaking his head. he
sighed. "I can get you the official record, but I can't say that any one
stands out in my mind. We didn't even get our one murder."A tight smile
forced its way onto his face. "Below average."

Getting to his feet, Mulder nodded. "Let's see if we can keep your town below
average."

********

The large tree next to the Thompson house was a thick oak; long strong
branches reaching out to try and cradle the structure in a wooden embrace.
Around it in a grotesque parody of decoration lay the yellow police tape;
blowing loose in the breeze as the policemen walked around the house again
and again, searching for some piece of evidence they had missed.

"I'll look at the tree." St. George offered, looking up into the branches as
she pushed the glasses up her nose again. "I think it's pretty obvious that
he got in that way; but maybe he left a trail."

"We'll see you in the bedroom." Mulder headed off towards the house, Scully
behind him.

"In your dreams, Mulder..." The Canadian laughed as she lifted the tape,
flashing her badge at the officer standing by. Putting one foot in the small
crack, she began to climb.

The bedroom was decorated with Star Wars posters and a few Baywatch pictures
discreetly hidden behind the closet door. Mulder smiled as he pointed at the
woman.

"Another great Canadian, Scully. Think St. George knows?"

"I think she does, and I think that if you mention it to her she'll make sure
you're not doing anything except looking at posters for the rest of your
life."

Grimacing comically, he shut the closet door as Scully picked up a toy
figure; the arms outstretched as the plastic ray gun was pointed at an
imaginary attacker. "What do you think?"

"I think that he was attacked by someone who knew him well enough to not trip
over the toy chest." Mulder pointed towards the window and the thick wooden
sea chest sitting just under the sill. "Anyone who came in that way, even at
a full moon, would have a hard time missing tripping over that. It's
impossible to see, the way it's tucked under there."

"Hey, Mulder..." A voice came from outside. Moving to the window, the two
agents looked out as St. George balanced herself precariously on a branch.
"He came up this way, definitely - a few scrapes on the bark tell me he was
wearing boots." She bounced on the branch. "No heavier than about 200 pounds,
though... this branch won't take too much more than that."

"Come in here." Mulder gestured. With a easy hop the woman landed on the
window sill and stepped down, catching herself as the sea chest threatened to
trip her. "See?"

"See what?" St. George frowned. Scully pointed at the chest.

"Mulder thinks that the attacker knew this room well enough to avoid tripping
over that."

"So he was a friend of Thompson's who got up here a lot." She tilted her head
to one side. "Maybe another teenager? I somehow doubt his parents would let
him invite lots of adults up here."

"Whatever." Mulder rubbed the windowsill, noting the dark circles of
fingerprint dust blowing away. "They got no prints other than Thompson's. And
he had to know where to step."

"Agent Mulder?" They turned to see one of the deputies in the doorway.
"They're getting ready for another Town Hall meeting in an hour or so; and
the Sheriff thought you'd be best going there. Show yourself to the town and
whatnot." He tipped his hat at the two women. "Give them a sense that we're
getting somewhere on this case."

"I love stretching the truth." St. George growled as she stood up straight
from checking the floor around the bed and the sea chest.

********

"We want this guy caught! My god, he's already blinded two of our children!
How much longer do we have to wait!" The angry man shook a fist at the stage.

The small school had an even smaller auditorium; barely enough to fit a
hundred people in; and definitely not the angry adults that swarmed in like
bees heading for an attack. The table set up on the stage had a few chairs
sitting haphazardly around it; but no one was using them - including the
Sheriff, who stood awkwardly holding the microphone.

"Folks, you know I'm doing all I can. I've called in the FBI's best experts
on the case." He waved a hand at the couple to one side. "Agents Mulder and
Scully are here to help us figure this one out."

Scully looked over the anxious and angry faces; searching out St. George who
was mingling in the crowd. After a hasty discussion, the Canadian had pointed
out that while she couldn't be introduced as an agent in any sense of the
word and not raise a lot of questions; but she could wander around and get a
sense of what the general mood was.

Not that either agent needed that right now.

Because the crowd was scared; terrified and on the edge of panic. Wild-eyed
mothers clutched their children to them; enraged fathers stood and ranted
about their civil rights being violated and planning to buy extra firearms to
protect themselves if the police couldn't do it; bored teenagers with an eye
on the two agents to see if they were going to get caught drinking underage.

As if scripted, the meeting disintegrated into a bit of yelling and
assurances from Sheriff Matheson that things would be resolved quickly and if
anyone had any information to pass it on to him or the agents. St. George met
up with the pair as the last of the cars raced out of the school parking lot
and back to the relative safety of their homes.

"They're scared out of their wits." She sighed, tucking her hands in her
pockets. "But no one's hinting at anything; no comments about the kids. Seems
everyone liked them; no murmurs about getting back at the parents or
anything. A blank." With a shrug, she looked at Mulder. "Next?"

Mulder pursed his lips. "Let's get some dinner and work on it. I can't
believe there's no reason here. Nothing happens without a reason."

"'See'?" Scully repeated. "'See' what? Or who?" She opened the car door.

********

The hotel room was easy to get into; the luggage lying on the bed where the
agents had left them. Two rooms for the three agents. One woman, one man...
and he didn't know about the third. He hadn't Seen him/her on the stage; and
no one recalled any third person there. But he knew there was a third one,
and that unnerved him.

Opening up the briefcase, he hummed a jaunty tune as he placed the thick
rectangular box inside; setting the spring trigger gently as he closed the
lid down. He assumed this was the man's briefcase, but it wouldn't make a
difference.

After all, it was to send a message.

Go away and leave him alone to his crusade.

To teach the blind to See.

********

"Mulder, that must have been the worst dinner I've had in years." St. George
groaned as she opened the door to the room. "Good thing Dana's a doctor - I
might just need to have my stomach pumped."

"Oh, quit whining. It's on the Bureau's tab, not yours." He joked as he
stepped in behind her, followed by a smiling Scully. "Besides, I didn't hear
you complain until after the third piece of apple pie."

"Well, I had to wash that lasagna down with something." She protested,
picking up her suitcase. "And just because you get to claim it doesn't make
it good."

"Cut it out, you two." Scully grabbed her own overnight bag. "I'm tired and I
still have to make my preliminary notes before we pack it in. And I should
have the results back from our lab on the letters sent to the children; at
least the start of them."

"Right..." Mulder put his briefcase on the table. "I'll call you if I come up
with..."

St. George heard it first.

A low humming from inside the briefcase, and it sure as hell wasn't his cell
phone.

"Mulder..." Slamming her hand down on the lid, she turned to him and opened
her mouth to say something; realising at the last second that the lid had
already been opened enough - the few millimetres enough to trigger whatever
was inside.

The dark-haired agent saw the lid fly up towards them both; pulling back at
the same time as the woman wrenched his hands from the top of the briefcase
and stepped forward to shield him.

Then the world became a blazing, white-hot star in his face.

Scully was the first to recover, lying on the floor against the wall where
she had instinctively thrown herself when the explosion had gone off; mere
seconds ago. Scrambling to her feet, she stared at the fire enveloping the
briefcase and melting down into the mattress for only a minute before dashing
out the door.

Smashing the glass window with her elbow, Scully pulled out the plastic tab
holding the extinguisher and headed back into the room; a part of her mind
already registering the cries of the other tenants and the fire alarm
bellowing in the background.

Mulder was still lying on the ground, shaking his head as he tried to sit up;
the fire now eagerly burning the sheets and threatening the rest of the room.
Aiming the nozzle of the extinguisher at the base of the fire, the woman
squeezed the handle once, twice... a third attack seemed to quell the fire
and put it out; but she'd leave that to the experts. Dropping the now empty
canister, she grabbed Mulder's arm; kneeling down in front of him and
checking his stunned face and arms for cuts or burns. As her hands ran
quickly and efficiently over his hair and face, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm fine, Scully... A few spots in front of my eyes, but I'm okay. Although
if you want to run your hands over a few things to see if I'm fine..." His
joking voice broke off as they turned together to see St. George curled up on
the floor, her arms wrapped around her head in protection or pain.

Scurrying over to the fallen woman, Scully took ahold of the arms; trying to
pry them away from the face.

"Jackie, work with me here..." She grunted, unable to work the arms free.
"Let me check you out and see what's..." The arms came down reluctantly and
slowly; the Canadian squinting at the redhead as the first firemen came in
through the door. Without a second glance at the three agents they attacked
the smouldering mattress; dragging it through the doorway and out into the
parking lot. A different siren filled the air; signalling the arrival of an
ambulance.

Scully let out a slow sigh of relief looking at the unscarred face; realising
that if any shrapnel had been in the small bomb, they would be dealing with a
much more enraged St. George than the tired woman in front of them. The
smallest cut would have set off a berserker-like Rage; and although St.
George had been working with Mulder for years to control and channel it; she
didn't want to put money on Jackie's control just yet.

"Jackie..." Scully said quietly, as her friend gripped her arms with a fierce
hold. "Are you okay?" She scanned her hands for burns, seeing only the
lightest reddening of the skin.

The woman looked blankly at her; her face scarlet from either the explosion
or the heat in the room. The tension increased where her hands lay on
Scully's arms, the skin stretched and tight. "No... I'm not okay..." Then a
whimper escaped her throat, something neither of them had ever heard before.

"I... can't see..."

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

end of part one...