Scully inwardly winced as she took a quick glance at Mulder. He wasn't betraying any emotion, but she knew that John's dismissal of the night they had spent together had hurt Mulder. So, maybe it was a good time to play "good cop, bad cop", with Mulder getting the chance to be the good guy. Perhaps that would put him back in John Carter's good graces and take that miserable look out of his eyes.
"We'll skip all the questions regarding the morning your uncle died. We've already spoken to four people about that day and I doubt if you could add anything to what they've already told us," Scully began, hoping she sounded harsh. The startled look she caught from Mulder let her know that she was. She continued. "So, we'll cut right to the chase. Did you take Dennis Gant's gun from the box that his father had packed it in after Dennis Gant died?"
"No."
"Did you have anything to do with the death of Joseph Thielen?"
"No."
"Did your family put pressure upon the Chicago Police Department to declare Joseph Thielen's death a suicide?"
"Not to my knowledge. Is that all you have to ask me?"
"I've only just begun, Doctor Carter. You might as well relax. We might be here a while."
"Scully, is all of this really necessary?" Mulder asked.
"That's what I want to know. Why is the FBI interested in a closed case? Uncle Joe's death was ruled a suicide. Where is the big mystery or conspiracy in that?" John asked, unable to hide his own confusion.
"The conspiracy is that a person can't blow their brains out and then wipe the gun of prints. A gun that belonged to a man dead for years. Can you explain any of that, Doctor Carter?" Scully harshly said.
"Sure. You won't believe me, but I can tell you the truth about what happened to Joseph Thielen."
"Go ahead." Scully leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited to see what story he would come up with.
"Look, it might not be a good idea for you to say anything until you've had a chance to speak with an attorney. There's no reason for you to incriminate yourself, John," Mulder leaned forward, willing John to look at him. When he did, Mulder found himself wishing he hadn't. John's stare was cold and hard.
"I won't incriminate myself because I didn't do anything wrong. The people who killed Joseph Thielen are beyond your reach."
"So you admit that he was murdered?" Scully asked.
"I think that in their minds, it was more a matter of justice. Why not call it an execution?"
"A man was murdered, Doctor Carter, by whatever words you chose to use to describe it. Please continue," Scully said."
"I'm sure that you've seen in the file that he was suspected of sexually abusing a child. It was true. It was something he had been doing for years to a number of young boys. He did it to me, he did it to my cousin Chase, and he did it to my brother, Bobby. Neither one of us knew that the others were victims. We thought that by giving in to what he wanted, we were keeping the others safe from harm. My brother Bobby was diagnosed with leukemia and it was incurable. He had periods of remission, but they didn't last very long. Bobby and I were close, but I found it difficult to confide in him about what was happening with Uncle Joe. During one remission, I finally broke down and told him. He told me that he would take care of things, make sure that Uncle Joe never hurt me or anyone else again. The next morning, I went to school as usual. It was a rough day. A very rough day. I knew that Dad would listen to Bobby, but I wasn't sure what would happen. I was riding my bike home when I suddenly felt ill -- it was as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I stopped the bike and then saw Bobby standing off on the side of the road. I knew he couldn't really be there and that if I was seeing him, then that meant he was dead. Bobby had promised me that he wouldn't die if I wasn't there with him. I rode home as fast as I could only to find out that Bobby was, indeed, dead. The whole family was there by then, including Uncle Joe. I found out that Uncle Joe had come over to watch Bobby while Mom took my sister to the doctor. A little later, Uncle Joe took me aside and he told me that Bobby had accused him of messing with me. He said he had told me that he would kill anyone I told and that he had not been lying about that. He admitted to me that he had smothered Bobby in order to keep Bobby from telling Dad about what I had said. I had no reason not to believe him. Since the time I was ten years old until a few weeks ago, I believed that I had caused Bobby's death. And I had known that if I ever told anyone else about what Uncle Joe had done to me, he would kill them, too."
John looked down at his hands, surprised that he had been able to talk so much about all of that.
"I know that it had to have difficult for you, John. A child can carry a lot of unnecessary guilt," Mulder gently said.
John looked up at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes. Instead, he saw understanding. Maybe he had been too quick to judge Mulder.
"You said that you had believed that until a few weeks ago. What happened to make you believe differently?" Scully asked, tossing away the "bad cop" image.
"I found out that Bobby had really died from the leukemia. That he had not been as healthy at the time as I thought. When Bobby died, he left behind gifts to be given to different people. Toys. Books. Various mementos. My cousin Casey, who was Uncle Joe's daughter, had given a book to Bobby, and she got that book back. A few months ago, she finally looked at it. And she found what appeared to be a fragment of a letter that Bobby was writing. In it, he detailed the abuse. Most of what he had written was what I had told him, but she assumed that Bobby was referring to himself. She went to my Dad and Dad talked it over with my Uncle Branch. The three of them were enraged and they began to plot Uncle Joe's death."
"I really think a lawyer should be in here, John," Mulder said. He couldn't believe that John was about to confess to them that his family had killed Joseph Thielen. If he was, then Mulder wanted it to be above board and fully prosecutable.
John shook his head. "That's not necessary. They never had the chance to kill him. He was shot before they had things arranged, but they had me thinking that they were guilty. I was pretty scared about that. You see, Uncle Joe wanted me to help the police find his killer so he could get his revenge against the guy."
"Are you implying that Joseph Thielen knew beforehand that he was going to be killed?" Scully asked.
"No, I'm saying that he was hanging around after he was killed."
"I think I've heard enough," Mulder firmly said. "If you didn't want to cooperate with us, then you could have just said so. There's no reason for you to be making up such a ridiculous story."
"It's not a story, Mulder. It's the truth. I thought that the two of you were here to find out the truth about Uncle Joe's death. I can't help it if you won't accept the fact that there are some things in this world that can't be defined in the normal sense. Things that are beyond our comprehension. My brother died in the company of the man who had molested not only him, but also his cousin and me. He was determined to one day stop Uncle Joe and he strove to build up enough strength to do that. Years ago, Dennis Gant was murdered by Uncle Joe and Dennis joined Bobby in the quest for vengeance. Bobby took Dennis' gun and went after Uncle Joe. Clark Morgan didn't think he could get away with stating that a child who had been dead for years had murdered Joseph Thielen, so he convinced his Captain that Uncle Joe had, indeed, killed himself. There was no conspiracy. Just a case of simple justice. I'm sorry if you refuse to see that."
Mulder looked away from John, feeling afraid for him. He wasn't sure if he was afraid because John was so calm about all of this or because he so obviously believed what he was saying. Had he spent last night with someone in dire need of psychiatric care? And if so, then who was he to complain? Hadn't he been told often enough that he was missing more than a few screws?
"Look, if you don't believe me, then just talk to Clark and Kerry. They both saw and heard all of it." John earnestly told them.
"Doctor Weaver did mention something about a ghost being responsible," Scully gently said.
Mulder looked at her sideways then shook his head. "I think that we'll let you get back to work now. We do have other people to interview today."
"Fine. Don't believe me, Mulder. But, it doesn't change the fact that it's the truth." John got to his feet and left. He felt empty inside, and not because he had revealed his deepest secrets to Mulder and Scully. It was because he could tell that Mulder thought he was crazy and he didn't want the man feeling that way about him. Last night had been wonderful and he had been looking forward to spending more time with Mulder. The phone call he had received from him this morning had dashed those hopes and this interview had pretty much sealed things. He would never again be in Mulder's arms. Never feel his kisses upon his skin. Never hear him call out his name as he came. Once again, fate had offered everything to him and then cruelly snatched it away. He should have known that things wouldn't be different just because Joe was dead.
"You were a little abrupt, weren't you?" Scully asked as she watched Mulder eye the closed door.
"I don't believe in ghosts, Scully. You know that."
"You've mentioned that from time to time. When I was first assigned to work with you, I didn't believe in aliens."
Mulder looked at her sharply, her meaning clear to him. She gazed back at him steadily, not giving an inch. Finally he looked down at the table and sighed.
"Mulder, sometimes you have to believe in things you can't see or understand."
"Next thing I know, you'll be telling me to believe in angels," he scoffed.
"Right now I'm telling you to believe in John Carter. You care about him, Mulder."
"I barely know him. We only spent one night together, I hardly think that gives us the right to care about each other. At least in the way you mean. Come on, I think we can find some other people to interview before we let the Chief of Police know that one of the Chicago's finest is faking reports to make his lover happy."
"We don't know that to be true."
"Scully, I think it's pretty obvious. Clark Morgan wanted to keep Kerry Weaver happy and the only way to do that was to submit a report that made her boarder and friend look good and to take the stress off John Carter. A murderer is still out there, Scully. I think he or she needs to be caught, don't you?"
Mulder got up and left the lounge, leaving it up to her to pack up their notes and files. As Scully gathered their things, she couldn't keep from thinking that Mulder was wrong about everything, but most especially about the feelings he had for John Carter.
***************************************************
John hesitated outside of Nine Pomerantz's door. She had told him that he could drop by at any time to talk and earlier he had been intending to do just that. But that had been before Mulder called him and his world fell apart yet one more time. John shook his head as memories from the night before swept over him. He had enjoyed himself immensely with Mulder and had left Mulder that morning feeling as if there just might be a chance for something more. Just what that more might have been, John wasn't sure. But the very idea of a possibility of more had made him happy and it had been such a long time since he had been truly happy. And he could lay all the blame for that at Mulder's feet. John had imagined the look that would be on Nina's face when he told her that he took her advice and went out and picked up a guy. He knew she would be flustered and shocked and had perversely looked forward to letting her know that her advice had been good.
But not now. At that very moment, John felt worse than he had ever felt before. And like his earlier happiness, he could lay this at Mulder's feet. John closed his eyes tightly to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. How could something so good turn into something this bad so quickly? Mulder didn't believe him. Hell, Mulder had looked right through him when he walked into the lounge to answer their questions. What had happened to the warm, funny and tender man from last night and early this morning? Where had he gone? Had it all been nothing more than an act on Mulder's part? A way to make sure that he got what he wanted from him? Had all of Mulder's words been lies? John just didn't know.
With a deep sigh, John turned away from the closed door. He couldn't talk to Nina until he had figured things out. He needed to decide if he had just been used for a night's pleasure or if there was more going on than he knew about. At that moment, John was hoping that he had merely been used. Being used was something he could understand. Getting his heart ripped out of his body because his uncle's death had come between him and Mulder was not something that he wanted to experience. John had endured way too many times of having his heart ripped out. Since he had already signed out for the day, John headed for the El and the relative safety of home.
John stood on the platform, oblivious to those around him. His thoughts were elsewhere and he didn't realize how sad he looked to those who were watching him. One of which was Peter Benton.
"Carter? Are you all right?" Peter asked. He had noticed that Carter had been distracted all day. And ever since his interview with the FBI agents, he had seemed depressed. During the rest of the work day, he had not been able to speak to him, but now that they were on the El platform waiting for the next train to arrive, there seemed to be time to talk.
"Huh? Did you say something?" John's thoughts had been on his miserable life and how much he hated being alone. He hadn't even been aware that Benton had approached him, let alone spoke to him.
"Yeah. I asked if you were all right. You seem depressed."
"You noticed that?"
Peter nodded. "It would be hard to miss, Carter."
"Sorry. But, to answer your question, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me. Not that you ever do...or did." John looked down the track, hoping that his train would come soon.
"I did worry about you. I just never let you or anyone else know it. I've learned a lot since Gant died, Carter. I've learned to let some of my emotions and worries show. I've learned that I'm not alone."
"Then I guess you're one of the lucky ones, aren't you? Excuse me." John walked away to stand at the edge of the platform. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that this is where Joseph Thielen had pushed Dennis Gant to his death. For such a long time John had believed that Dennis had killed himself and he sent a heartfelt apology in his heart to Dennis for thinking that. It was strange how things could turn around so quickly. Back then, he had felt so guilty over thinking that he was responsible for Bobby's death that he wouldn't even consider suicide as an option. He had felt that enduring a living Hell was nowhere near the punishment he deserved for causing his brother's death. And now he knew that he wasn't responsible. Joseph Thielen had lied to him when he told him that he killed Bobby. So, the guilt was lifted from his shoulders. But, despite the progress he thought he had been making with Nina Pomerantz, his living Hell was back. It had descended upon him the minute he heard Fox Mulder tell him that he was investigating Joseph Thielen's death. A tear slipped down his cheek as he thought how he didn't want to go on living this way -- feeling so alone and empty. He had not felt that way last night with Mulder and he was so afraid that there would never be another person who could take away those feelings.
Maybe dying wasn't such a bad idea after all, he thought. It would certainly solve a lot of problems. The FBI could name him as Joseph Thielen's murderer, and while Clark might face some censure over closing the case as a suicide, he wouldn't lose his job. So, things would work out for everyone in the end. Mulder could go back to Washington content in the knowledge that he had solved the case, Kerry could find a better tenant for her basement, and his family wouldn't have to look at him and be reminded of all the bad that had happened. It was a win-win situation. All he needed to do now was figure out just how he would kill himself. He wouldn't do anything at home, that wouldn't be fair to Kerry. And he couldn't risk doing anything at the hospital -- what if he was found before he was dead? The last thing he wanted was to injure himself so badly that he ended up brain damaged. Like Chase. Another person he had inadvertently harmed. Jumping in front of the El wasn't an option either, and for the same reason. He would find a way. Something guaranteed to work.
He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun around to see Peter Benton looking at him with concern.
"There was a time when you wanted to talk to me about feelings."
"That was a long time ago, Doctor Benton. You made it plain back then that your feelings weren't any of my concern, so I figure that mine don't concern you either."
"I was wrong then."
They regarded each other for a few moments, then John nodded. "I guess you have changed. I never thought I would hear you admit that."
"I know that you've been having a tough time lately, Carter. It would help if you had someone to talk to."
"I see a psychiatrist, so I get plenty of opportunity to talk."
A distant rumbling began to grow louder and then the train was within sight.
"This is my train." John watched the train come to a stop, then got on to go home. He looked out the window as the train began to pull out of the station and saw that Benton was still watching him. Why did he have to pick now to decide to be friendly? John settled into his seat, dismissing Peter Benton and his new found concern from his mind. He had more important things to think about.
To be continued...
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