We're almost there.
How you doing, hon?
Just breathe deeply.
Just like that.
There you go. You're doing great.
Oh, yeah.
Real great.
Ma'am? Ma'am?
Ma'am, I'll need your full name and Social Security number.
Amanda Nelligan.
And your insurance carrier?
Atlantic Mutual. Great.
Is there anyone you need us to contact?
The father of the baby?
I'm not sure how to get hold of him.
If you give me his name, I can try.
He's not from around here.
Is he from out of state?
Another planet.
All right, we're here now.
Okay, hold on.
One more little push, Amanda.
There you go.
You're going to set a speed record here.
Great.
There's a cute face.
Bulb syringe.
This is like the Indy 500 here.
Here comes the shoulder.
Good.
Okay, Amanda.
That'll do it.
Oh.
Oh, God.
What? What is it?
It's okay.
She's just fine.
Perfectly healthy.
No problem.
Everything's going to be A-okay.
You've got a healthy baby girl.
A little girl.
Good Lord, not another one.
I admit the photo is a little over the top,
but, um, what do you think, Scully?
No, seriously.
Children born with vestigial tails don't interest you?
Caudal appendages.
Fetuses have them.
The coccyx enlarges to contain the spinal fluid,
and then it shrinks as the child develops.
Occasionally, it doesn't.
It's extremely rare, but it has been known to happen.
Five times within the last three months,
all in a town with a population of less than 15,000 people?
I'd say that's
a little more than a statistical anomaly.
So would I.
No, Mulder,
I-I think you're right.
I think that something about this
definitely warrants investigation, only not by us.
I'd say that it's a job
for the local health department.
I called around.
They're already investigating.
So, uh, so what else about this interests you?
Could it be, uh...
"Visitors from space"?
The doctor said that my baby-- she's going to be fine.
She... she's really healthy.
Once she gets to be a few months old,
it's just a matter of a snip.
That's good to hear.
Yeah.
Did you experience any unusual complications
during your pregnancy, Amanda?
Did you undergo any kind of fertility treatment?
No. I wasn't trying to get pregnant.
I guess you could just sort of say
I'm a single mom now.
When you were admitted,
you said that the, uh, the baby's father
was from another planet.
What did you mean by that, exactly?
Well, you know, that... he's not from this planet.
Were you abducted?
Huh?
No.
No. He...
dropped by my apartment one day,
and one thing sort of led to... another.
But the baby's father is an alien?
No, no, I didn't say he was an alien.
I said he was from
another planet.
His name is Luke Skywalker.
He's what's known as a Jedi Knight.
Did he have a lightsaber?
No, he didn't bring it.
He did sing
his song for me though.
How many times have you seen Star Wars, Amanda?
I should break 400 by Memorial Day.
Okay.
Thank you.
Oh, wait a minute, wait.
You know these four
other babies that were born around here with tails?
Uh-huh.
There couldn't be any chance...
Luke's the father... is there?
Okay.
All right, I got it.
Thank you.
Take your best shot, Scully,
but I think there's more going on here
than Luke Skywalker and his lightsaber.
I think you're right, Mulder.
You coming?
Here are the PCRs we ran for the five children.
We've put calls in to the parents.
We'll blood test all the husbands
hopefully by this afternoon,
- just to double-check. - Good.
They'll be none too happy.
I have to confess,
this answer seems so strangely obvious
I probably wouldn't have even checked for it.
What answer?
You see here--
these identical
band trait matches, all showing
a small loss of a part of chromosome number eight?
Each of these five children, born to five different women,
all share the same father.
Yeah?
I should've thought of it sooner.
This kind of appendant birth defect
is often passed on within a family.
Meaning the father had a tail as well?
Though he most likely had it surgically removed
somewhere along the way.
How would this happen?
Birds and the bees and the monkey babies, Mulder.
Birds do it, bees do it, even educated MDs do it.
All five of these women
shared the same ob-gyn, didn't they?
Yeah, he's the only one in town.
And four of the five women, the four married women,
not including Amanda Nelligan, are on record
as receiving insemination therapy
as a means of conception.
So, you're thinking that the doctor
might have something to do with it?
So much for not putting all your eggs in one basket.
Just let me handle it, okay?
I just think we should find the best lawyer we can,
because I definitely plan to sue.
That's all I'm saying, Fred.
Baboo, look, just let me do the talking all right?
I'll handle this.
Just tell him we're going to sue.
Oh, you, too, huh?
What the hell did you do?
Yeah, Alton.
Yeah, what did you do?!
I didn't do anything.
Now, folks, we're going to figure this out here, I promise.
Look, everybody just relax.
Don't you tell me to relax.
What the hell happened to my sperm?
Yeah, mine, too.
Whose did you use? It's bad enough
having a boy with a tail,
then you find out it's not even yours?
Yeah. Right.
For God's sake, Alton,
how many of us are there?
I'm Special Agent Mulder
with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
This is Agent Scully.
Great.
Arrest this son of a bitch.
- Yeah, arrest this guy. - No, sir, settle down.
Nobody's going to be arrested.
Yeah, we're just here to find out what's going on.
Alton didn't use my sperm.
I most certainly did. Each of you women
was inseminated with your husband's
own sperm and nobody else's.
Now, why was it necessary to inseminate in these cases?
It was a sperm motility issue.
The intrauterine process that I used
has about a 40% chance of success.
I was surprised.
It seemed to work all four times.
Now, the only thing I can think of is...
What?
...maybe it never worked at all.
What are you saying, Alton? Honey...
No, I want to know what he means by that.
I haven't been with a man since 1989.
I mean, not counting you, honey.
Look, I'm not accusing anyone of anything.
I'm just saying, this latest patient of mine
who just gave birth to a baby with a tail--
she didn't even undergo insemination,
so you folks are blaming the wrong baby doctor.
Hey.
Excuse me.
I'm an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I'd like to ask you a few questions.
Uh... yeah, o-okay.
Scully.
Check it out.
Oh, my God.
That's him?
He's the one?
Five out of five.
You spelled my name wrong.
It's Van Blundht with a silent "H."
Oh, we'll get right on that.
Lots of people spell it wrong.
It's, like, Dutch or something.
Can I go now?
No. There's a few things we have to clear up first.
Yeah. Like how'd you do it?
What do you mean, how'd I do it?
You're the father of five children, Mr. Van Blundht.
Is that not news to you?
Do you have any insight into how five women
came to be inseminated with your sperm?
You make it sound so romantic.
So, you're saying there was romance involved.
Why is that so hard to believe?
Just 'cause I was born with a tail,
no woman would want me?
Maybe I got personality.
You ever think of that?
You had sex with these women?
How is it that none of them
have any recollection whatsoever of that happening?
Look, I'm not saying anything one way or another.
I'm just saying-- hypothetically--
if some women wanted to have kids
and their husbands weren't capable
and everybody was happy
and nobody got hurt, well, hypothetically,
where's the crime?
Well, if you're waiting for my usual theory
as to what's going on, I don't have one.
I do.
On, uh, on behalf of all the women in the world,
I seriously doubt this has anything to do
with consensual sex.
I think it involves some form of Rohypnol rape.
The tranquilizer. I didn't think of that.
It's been called the date rape drug.
High doses of it cause a loosening of inhibitions,
memory loss.
Now, if Van Blundht was somehow able
to slip the drug to these women,
especially in conjunction with alcohol...
Yeah, but when and where would he have had
the opportunity to slip it to them?
Well, he identified these women
through his janitorial job at the medical park.
He could have followed them anywhere-- to a club, to a bar.
Those women don't look like the type
that do a lot of solo drinking.
I think it's enough to keep him in custody
while we check it out.
Uh, you spelled my name wrong.
It's B-L-U-N-D-H-T.
Silent "H."
Address.
I strongly suggest you stop eyeballing me
and tell me your address.
17 Prospect Parkway.
Martinsburg, 25401.
All right, Mr. Van Blun-hut, give me your phone number.
What the hell?
The "H" is silent.
I could have sworn Curtis clocked out hours ago.
He said good night to me and everything.
This morning, I find him shoved underneath a desk.
Deputy,
are you sure
you don't remember what happened last night?
The guy coldcocked me.
Except he wasn't the guy.
He was me.
My head hurts.
I found Van Blundht's clothes in the locker room.
He must have walked out of here
wearing the deputy's spare uniform.
After hitting him over the head.
I have a theory, if you want to hear it.
Van Blundht somehow physically transformed
into his captor, then walked out the door,
leaving no one the wiser?
Scully, should we be picking out china patterns or what?
Mulder, why can't you just go for the simple answer?
With that blow to the head, the deputy might just as well
have identified McGruff the Crime Dog as his attacker.
What about what the sheriff saw?
Two men, roughly the same build, the same coloring,
the addition of the uniform goes a long way to explain
how someone can mistake one man for another
at 3:00 in the morning.
Conversely, my theory goes a long way to explaining
how four married women could mistake
Van Blundht for their husbands,
and how Amanda Nelligan could think
he was Luke Skywalker.
We've both seen something like this before, Scully.
But what are you saying?
That Van Blundht is an alien?
Not unless they have trailer parks in space.
This is something different.
Hey, Scully, if you could be somebody else
for a day, who would it be?
Hopefully, myself.
So boring.
I mean, wouldn't you even be tempted
to try on somebody else's existence for a day?
Live your life as somebody else?
Looking like someone else, Mulder, and being someone else
are completely different things.
Well, maybe it's not.
I mean, everybody else around you would treat you
like you were somebody else.
I mean, ultimately, maybe it's
other people's reactions to us that make us who we are.
All right, then-- Eleanor Roosevelt.
Can't be a dead person.
Why the hell not?
Because.
What are you doing sneaking around my porch?
We're, uh...
we're with the FBI.
Is this the home of Edward Van Blundht?
Yeah, that's me.
We're looking for your son, Eddie Jr.
Eddie?
What did that moron do now?
Five women?
Oh, Lord.
Anything else?
Yes. He attacked a sheriff's deputy
during his escape from custody.
Hurt bad?
Fortunately not.
Well, thank heavens for that at least.
Sir, do you have any idea where your son might be?
I wish I did. I'm sorry.
I haven't seen him for the last two days.
Is this... is this you?
One and the same!
You want to see?
No.
No, thank you.
My son had his removed when he was, uh...
just a kid.
Kept bugging me and bugging me.
Till...
till I finally let him do it.
There you go.
I told him it was a mistake.
I said, "Son, you ain't much to look at.
"You ain't no athlete,
"and you sure the hell ain't no Einstein,
"but at least you got that tail.
Otherwise, you're just small potatoes."
But he didn't listen.
Sir, does your son have
any other unique medical conditions?
I mean, aside from the tail?
Mr. Mulder, that boy was born sickly.
We used to have this condition
down in the South called pellagra...
Excuse me, sir, how did you know my name was Mulder?
She told me it was.
Mm, no. Actually, I didn't.
It's him!
Pretty spry for an old guy, huh?
Eddie Jr., not senior.
Well, whichever one he is,
wouldn't you say he's a man with a secret?
Honey, what are you doing home so early?
Let's go see what's wrong with Daddy.
Fred?
Honey?
Fred, is everything okay?
Everything's fine.
What happened to the clothes you were wearing this morning?
I-I'll explain later.
Just give me a little privacy, okay?
Uh... Baboo.
Okay.
Sugar patootie.
I'll check upstairs.
I'm all right!
What?
It's quicklime.
Move back over here.
Not so spry.
You think the fall killed him?
Baboo, I'm home.
Oh, crap.
I'm home early.
What?
You were just here.
You went into the bathroom.
What?
Honey, what do you mean I'm in the bathroom?
Shh. Come here.
Someone is in the bathroom.
Mm-hmm.
It's all clear.
So what killed Eddie the monkey man?
It's difficult to say.
The quicklime burned the tissue
even as it preserved it,
so what killed him is one of two things
I haven't figured out yet.
What's the other thing?
That would be this.
Striated muscle tissue.
What's unusual about that?
In and of itself, nothing.
Where I found it, however...
Where did you find it?
Everywhere.
His entire body.
As far as I can tell,
this man has a thin stratum of voluntary muscle tissue
underpinning the entire dermal layer of his skin.
That's not normal.
This man's body is quite
a scientific specimen, and thankfully
it's preserved and intact.
In other words,
there are 654 muscles in the human body,
and this man essentially has 655.
Um, could that somehow be related to his, uh,
having a tail?
Possibly.
It could be a linked gene birth defect.
What would be the purpose of-of this, uh, muscle?
You got me, Mulder.
You know, maybe none.
It appears to be atrophied, although it may look
that way as a result of the mummification.
Could this be a like-father- like-son kind of a thing?
What do you mean?
Could Eddie Jr. have the same anomalous muscular structure
as his dad here?
Maybe. What are you suggesting?
Well, um, if this musculature underlies the entire skin,
then maybe it could be utilized
to remold the skin's shape and texture.
Which would go a long way to explaining why we're looking for
a man who can appear to be his own father,
or anyone else, for that matter.
Isn't it much more likely, Mulder,
that this man simply has an identical twin?
Check that out.
Where are you going?
Something about Van Blundht's M.O. confuses me.
His victims were four married women
who wanted to get pregnant...
And one single woman who didn't.
Mm-hmm.
I know.
Come in.
Sorry, Ms. Nelligan.
I'm sorry to bother you.
No, no, it's no bother.
Just have a few additional questions
I wanted to ask you.
Okay.
Here we go, sweetie.
Bye-bye.
We'll just come back later.
You know, I thought they were letting me stay
in the hospital so long because I had
really, really great insurance.
Turns out, they're just keeping me here
because they think I'm sort of crazy.
They want to make sure
I'm safe to be around my baby.
Free cable.
I want to ask you... do you recognize this man?
Oh, yes.
Ew.
That's Eddie Van Blundht.
What can you tell me about him?
Oh, it's...
We went out all through high school.
Oh, brother.
What?
Nothing. He's just... he's sort of a loser.
He's one of those guys you look back on, you go,
"Oh, my God, what was I thinking?
What was I thinking?"
Well, what, uh, specifically made him a loser?
I don't know-- everything.
He had, like, one million annoying personal habits.
You know, just...
no sense of romance, no ambition,
you know, no direction.
I mean, I hear he's, like, a janitor or something now.
And he had this weird family.
His dad was in the circus
or something.
I don't know.
Never let me meet him-- thank God.
Well...
he must have had some good qualities.
Well, yeah, sure, everybody's got a few.
Yeah, we had some good times.
He really loved Star Wars, so we used to go
and see it every weekend.
That was nice.
He was no Luke, that's for sure.
Why do you want to know about Eddie?
That's official FBI business.
Wow.
I, uh...
...wanted to congratulate you on this
blessed event.
Thank you.
May the Force be with you.
Hello, there.
Can I help you?
I'm here to see Amanda Nelligan.
Just down the hall there.
Come in.
No, seriously though,
why do you want to know about Eddie?
What about Eddie?
Why were you asking me
all those questions about him?
Mulder.
Agent Mulder, this is Fred Neiman.
Is it okay for us to get into our bathroom now?
Excuse me, sir?
I was hoping we could get into our bathroom
sometime this evening.
You said the police were
going to come by and dust it for fingerprints,
but that was about four hours ago.
Uh-huh.
We want to help you catch this guy,
but I got to say, I'm having a real hard time here.
I mean, how exactly do you wind up
chasing a suspect into my bathroom?
Don't forget the suit. Yeah.
And what do you need with my charcoal suit?
I'm sorry, Mr. Neiman,
I'm going to have to call you back.
Um, I was just here.
Where did I go?
Huh?
There was a man.
He looked exactly like me.
Did you see where he went?
Down the hall.
Men's locker room.
Thank you.
Hey.
Van Blundht.
Who?
Don't think about it.
Get your hands up.
Turn around.
Keep them up there.
Put your hands down now.
If it's not you, I apologize in advance.
What are you doing?
Pull your pants up.
What?
What did I do now?
You're the only ones here?
Yeah.
I apologize.
Only one of you is the man I'm looking for...
I hope.
I got to wait
for some blood tests to come back,
and then I'll release the other one.
Why don't you just sit tight and relax.
Keep your clothes on, huh?
Scully.
Yeah, hey, it's me.
I think you should get down to the hospital right away, okay?
I'm on my way.
All right.
You're a damn good-looking man.
I mean, you draw a gun on me.
You handcuff me with my own handcuffs.
I know what I did. I know.
I take issue with that.
I have a serious problem with that. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I still don't understand.
Do you think we look like criminals to you?
Exactly. What the hell was on your mind?
I said I was sorry. What's going on?
Am I done here?
Yeah. We got his description.
Come on, guys.
What the hell happened?
Van Blundht surprised me.
He coldcocked me and then he got away.
Do you have a lead on him?
No, but local authorities are already on the warpath
for going after one of their own.
They'll catch him eventually.
So, what, that's-that's it for us?
I know I dragged you out here, Scully, but I'm beginning
to think this whole thing is just a waste of time.
Now you think there's no X File here?
No. No.
I think the only thing that's here is, uh, small potatoes.
Hello?!
Get me out of here!
Hello! Hello!
I'm down here!
Help!
Which one of you wrote this?
I did, sir.
You spelled "Federal Bureau of Investigation" wrong.
It's a typo.
Twice.
Agent Scully, what about the body you found?
Did you establish a cause of death?
Yes, sir. The subject, Edward Van Blundht Sr.,
died of natural causes.
Specifically heart disease and advanced age.
We think the son hid the father in the attic
so he could continue to cash in
on the old man's Social Security checks.
Most likely.
So the son wasn't a murderer.
Oh, no, not at all.
But he was a rapist.
I entered him into
the national sex offenders database.
The West Virginia state police have a photo and a description,
and they will coordinate with local authorities.
There should be an arrest soon.
That about wraps it up.
So, Scully, what are you doing tonight?
Any big plans?
Well, seeing as how it's Friday,
I was thinking I could get some work in
on that monograph I'm writing for the Penology Review.
Oh.
"Diminished acetylcholine production
in recidivist offenders."
Uh-huh.
Actually, I might bag that though.
Really?
Yeah. I have to say, Mulder,
the anomalous musculature in the corpse we found
really has me intrigued.
In fact, I think
I'm going to go to Quantico
and have some tissue samples run.
I'll see you Monday.
Monday morning.
"Fox"?
Brother.
Good night.
This is where my tax dollars go?
Where do I live?
Where the hell do I sleep?
Mulder? Langly.
You got to see this.
An online associate of ours-- who will remain anonymous--
has figured out a way to digitize the Zapruder footage
so we can extrapolate a bird's- eye view of the Dealey Plaza
at the exact moment of the assassination,
and you'll never believe where the third shot came from.
Tell him about the cheesesteaks.
Oh, yeah. And Frohike, Byers and me
are going out for cheesesteaks.
Are you down with that?
Uh, erase once you hear it.
Geeks for friends.
Hello, Marty. It's Chantal.
It's been so long since we've spoken.
I've been so lonely not hearing your sexy voice.
Marty, just for you
we've lowered our rates to 40 cents a minute--
$2.99 for the first minute, all long-distance rates apply.
Do give me a call, lover-man.
I'll be waiting.
F...
B...
I.
You looking at me?
There ain't nobody else here.
You must be looking at me.
You want a piece of this?
You're a damn good-looking man.
Mulder, what's up?
Scully.
Is this a bad time?
No.
No, um... come on in.
Who's that for?
Uh... us.
Okay.
Have a seat.
So, uh, what are you working on?
More autopsy data.
You know, everyone at the lab
found Mr. Van Blundht pretty fascinating.
We discovered an additional
anomaly relating to the hair follicles in his scalp.
I can't even begin to guess
at the nature of it until we can run it
through the transmission electron microscope.
Sounds very interesting.
Yes, it is.
So, seriously, Mulder, what's going on?
You okay?
Mm.
I was just kind of...
knocking around and...
just thinking...
Good.
We never really, uh...
talk much... do we?
What do you mean, like...
really talk?
No. No, we don't, Mulder.
Well, what's stopping us?
So there we are at 2:00 in the morning--
me in my moire taffeta dress
and Marcus in whatever the hell it was he was wearing...
Thank you very much.
It had a, um...
a kelly green cummerbund on it.
Anyway, so I know that Marcus is thinking
that it's now or never,
and I'm thinking...
What are you thinking?
I'm thinking, "What is that siren I hear getting louder?"
No way. Who called the cops?
It wasn't the cops, it was the fire department.
My friend Sylvia and her idiot prom date...
Berwood?
...had built this campfire
that went totally out of control,
and so we all had to ride back on the, um--
what do you call it?--
the, um... the pumper truck.
Yeah.
Marcus was the 12th grade love of my life.
I can't believe I'm telling you this.
I don't believe you haven't told me before.
Now I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder.
Is that a good thing?
I like it.
You ever wish things were different?
What do you mean?
The person you wanted to be
when you grew up, when you were in high school--
how far off from that did you end up?
Career-wise, miles off target.
Uh, not just that, but...
you ever wish...
that you could go back and do it all differently?
Do you?
Thanks for coming.
What's with the hat?
My court-appointed therapist makes me wear it.
She says it's meant to bolster my self-esteem.
Does it?
Not really.
The other inmates just beat me up and take it from me,
which would be okay, except every week
she brings me a new hat.
Plus, they keep me on some kind of...
muscle relaxant, so I... I can't make faces the way I used to.
Did you tell them to do that?
Is, uh... is Agent Scully here?
What did you want to talk to me about, Eddie?
I just think it's funny.
I was born a loser, but you're one by choice.
On what do you base that astute assessment?
Experience.
You should live a little.
Treat yourself.
God knows I would
if I were you.
Have a good day, sir.
I don't imagine you need to be told this, Mulder,
but you're not a loser.
Yeah, but I'm no Eddie Van Blundht either...
am I?