Title: Starkweather: Frequency Modulation

Author: Scully3776

Rating: R

Kewords: Casefile, Doggett/Other, MSR, LGM Category, X, HR

Summary: Doggett and his newest partner, Agent Jerilyn Starkweather, investigate some strange killings at a radio station.

Disclaimer: All the characters from the X-Files are property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. All other characters were created by yours truly. I am not seeing one red dime for writing this story so therefore there is no reason why the good people at 1013 should get their panties in a twist that I wrote this. Timeline: Post s8 "Existence", post "Introitus", post "Quanta" and pre s9 "Nothing Important Happened Today." The only thing off continuitywise is William's age, but then, since Scully was pregnant for twelve months, I think his age is of little importance.

The small two-story split-level business building sat on a small valley, surrounded by duplexes and expensive apartments in the river city. It was a nice, upper middle class neighborhood where one would foolishly assume nothing would ever happen. The type of place where most people shut off their lights and drifted off to the shadowy lands of dreams around ten, eleven o'clock.

But the lights in that little building burned twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. During the day, cars and vans and one sad jeep surrounded it. Account executives rushed in and out between business hours of eight and five, armed with only their wits, their ambitions, their commissions and their Arbitron books, hoping for that one sale, that one buy which will not only keep the lights burning in that homely little building, but keep them fed and clothed for another pay period. Along with the other main stage players of this particular stage, the business manager, the traffic director, the continuity/production director, the promotions director, the program director, the accountant, the general manager, the engineer, the interns and part-timers and the on-air personalities, a day in the life of a radio station moved at a frenetic, almost inhuman pace. Gone where the days of the kitchy radio dramas and disc jockeys that didn't play

by the rules but what music stirred their souls and the hearts of their fans. Now, as with most media-driven businesses, it was governed by the all mighty dollar.

But when the sun settles for it's daily death in the west, magic can still be conjured and spells cast upon the unsuspecting listeners over the airwaves the moment the microphone opens up during the dark, unsellable hours. The overnight shift.

'She opened the back door, leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the door while still technically smoking inside. A huge no no, especially with all the sensitive audio equipment inside, but at two in the morning on a Monday, who was there to complain? She looked up at the satellite dish on the edge of the parking lot, at the gargantuan antennae reaching to touch God's face and at the stars shining as brilliantly as they deserved to shine, for this was a small city, there were no skyscrapers or many streetlights to compete with. She checked her watch. Still three minutes and four seconds to go before her next break. "Man, this sucks," she griped, voice aching with boredom. She sucked down her cigarette, tossed the butt with the others littering the parking lot and shut the door behind her, making sure it was locked. She rushed back to the studio and sat down at the console, quickly checking the weather computer to make sure there was no severe weather on the way before she went into break. She made sure the music computer, the Audiovault, was cued up to play the right commercials, making sure she turned the automation cues off so it wouldn't automatically segue into the next song and commercial set.

There was a ten-second-end cue in the song playing and a ten-second intro ramp into the next song. She put her hand on one sliders and gently brought the volume of the ending song down. She slipped on her headphones and opened up the microphone: "KRRQ, One-oh-one point three, River Country, with Tim Graw's 'Can't be Really Gone.' I'm Laura Light-" actually her name was Candelauria Gallimore, but her boss, the program director gave her the air-name of "Laura Light" - insisted that it was more "radio friendly" - "We've got the new one from Sara Evans on the way, plus Garth Brooks by request, but first-" she hit a button and brought the volume up for the next song, overlapping the dying song, "Don't Let's Talk About Lisa", by Lonestar, on KRRQ, one- oh-one point three, River Country, the BIG Dawg..." she switched off the mike and took the headsets off. "Gawd..." she groaned. She really hated country music. But with one internship away from graduation and subtle hints of maybe a job opening at the station, Candelauria Gallimore was prepared to love whatever they told her to, even if she had to listen to Conway Twitty and Patsy Cline over and over.

But she was SO tired, her shoulders and her back were one giant cramp from lack of sleep. Work at the restaurant, go to class, go to the station, work again, being on air, it had become one mind-killing blur. She couldn't tell when she was coming or going. But she had a decent on-air voice and a strong work ethic, which propelled her towards a career in mass communication. Maybe someday, after she paid her dues... the reward would be worth the loss of sleep...

Candelauria Gallimore would never know, for that was the night the lights went out. "Aw, crap," she groaned. The station was off the air. "Well, better call someone," she muttered as she groped for the phone in the dark. No power mean dead air. Dead air meant music couldn't be played, which wasn't a big deal, but it also meant the commercials couldn't be played, with was a HUGE deal. Candelauria figured either one of main computers crashed or lightening must of hit the transmitter, out in the sticks twenty miles away from town. She fumbled for their mini-flashlight on her keychain and picked up the phone, preparing to call the engineer. She put the receiver to her ear and heard nothing. "What the hell?" There was no dial tone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flicker by. She shined her pitiful light towards the movement. "Hello?" A force stronger than and tornado wind knocked her out of her chair....

Four in the morning, the old radio newshound, John Kelly found the intern, covered with mucus, the cord of her headset wrapped around her throat, her face blue with rigor mortis, her eyes permanently widened in terror... "Ohhh, shit," he muttered....

Special Agent Dana Scully was on the phone nervously nibbling on a pencil when Special Agent John Doggett walked in, a jelly doughnut in his mouth, juggling a briefcase, a newspaper, three very thick case files and a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts in his hands.

Scully smiled. "I gotta go, Mom, talk to you later." She put the receiver back on the hook and got up to unburden Doggett. "Is this what they mean by dollars to doughnuts?"

Doggett took the jellyroll out of his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "Ha ha." He put the doughnut box on the desk euphemistically known as "Mulder's shrine." "I picked out a coupla bagels for you," he drawled. "Like you asked."

"Oat bran?"

"Didn't have none. Got you some uh, tomato bagels?" He shook his head in wonder as he went to the coffee maker. "Why they would ruin a perfectly good tomato by sticking it in a bagel, I'll never know. Have a good weekend? How's your mother doing?"

"Oh, it was a nice time, Mom's good, she loves coming down, playing Grandma." Scully smoothed away imaginary wrinkles out of her midnight blue dress suit before sitting back down again. "Starkweather called me on my cell a few minutes ago, she said she's stuck in traffic, so she'll be a few minutes late."

Doggett nodded, sitting down at his desk with the remains of his doughnut and steaming cup of black coffee, "I hope she's not too late, I got a long day ahead. I got meetings up the wazoo, explaining how once again we exceeded the expenditure budget for the X-Files plus paperwork up the butt."

Scully grinned wickedly. "Sounds like a party."

"Wanna trade? I'll go home at three and change diapers."

Scully just shook her head in amusement and got up to inspect the sun-dried tomato bagels he brought her. Doggett's dry humor always managed to surprise her, as it did most people.

Starkweather breezed in at 8:06, wearing a somber gray pants suit with a crisp silver blouse. In one hand, she carried the valise that contained her computer notebook, in the other, a motorcycle helmet. On her back, was the Air Force issue duffel bag she used as a gym bag. In her mouth, half a Snickers bar stuck out. "Morning, kids," she said, moving her lips around the candy bar. "Sorry I'm late, ooh, doughnuts." She crossed over to her desk and dumped her belonging next to it on the floor, as always.

"Very healthy, Doctor Starkweather," Scully criticized her morning meal choice.

Starkweather took the chocolate bar out of her mouth and swallowed. "Breakfast of champions." She sat on top of her desk. "Alright, whaddya got. You said last night you've got a hot one for us." Scully got up and pulled out the slide projector, covered with dust. "Scully, if you show us slides of Will's first tooth, I will have to hurt you," Starkweather deadpanned.

Scully shot her a look similar to the ones she gave Mulder whenever he made a sarcastic comment. "Agent Doggett, could you get the lights for us, please?" she asked as she grabbed a tissue and dusted off the projector the best of her ability.....

Scully handed out photocopies of their newest X-File endeavor after dusting off the sadly neglected projector. "The victim," she said in school teacherish tomes when Doggett hit the lights "is Candelauria Sue Gallimore, a senior at Rose Hill College, in Sioux City, Iowa, majoring in business and mass communications. She was completing a final internship at a local radio station for her summer graduation requirements."

"Candel - what?" Starkweather asked, swinging her legs school girlishly off the edge of her desk. "Don't people have normal names anymore?"

"Keep talking **Jerilyn**," Doggett said, settling in his desk.

"Shut up Puppy-Man."

"Ahem," Scully cleared her throat as she clicked a button on the projector and a picture of a nice looking girl with long curly hair lit up the screen. "This is a fairly recent photograph of the deceased..." she started again.

"Pretty girl," Doggett said, apropos of nothing.

"Careful, Southern boy," Starkweather drawled. "She's young enough to be your daughter."

"Now, I didn't mean it like that!"

"How did you mean it... Papa John?"

"Do you mind?" Scully interrupted.

"Sorry," Starkweather and Doggett mumbled together.

Scully clicked for the next slide. "This is the crime scene, dated three days ago. She was discovered in this condition at about four o'clock in the morning, Central Standard Time."

"Wow," Starkweather said without missing a beat, "That's really gross," she remarked casually as she continued to eat her Snickers bar.

The victim was sprawled on the ground, still seated in the announcer's chair. A clear almost pinkish slime covered her from head to toe. "Observe how the cord to her headphones are wrapped around her neck," Scully continued in a clinically detached tone as the slides progressed to show different angles of the crime scene. "The local coroners have determined that to be the cause of death."

"So how does a strangulation case qualify an "X" rating?" Starkweather asked. "Other than the slime. What the hell is that?"

"We don't know. They've shipped samples to the forensics team at Quantico, they're researching it now."

"So we've got a dead slimy girl," Doggett said. "Big deal."

"The big deal is this," Scully flipped the slide to another crime scene. "Same radio station, same unidentified biological matter, different girl, but about the same age and physical description of Gallimore. Young, pretty. Student at the same college. Time of death is the same, roughly between the hours of midnight and three AM. This was from a year ago." She flipped the slide again, same place, different girl. "This one was dated three years ago and this one-" another dead girl. "Three years and two months. And they all have one puzzling aspect."

"Which is?" Doggett asked.

"All the doors and windows were locked from the inside."

"So, what are we saying here?" Starkweather asked. "That the Blob did it?"

"Well," Scully said, turning the slide projector off and walking over towards the light switch. "That's what we've got to find out." She hit the lights. Doggett and Starkweather winced. "Ow, warn us when you're gonna do that," Starkweather whined.

"AD Skinner gave me word earlier this morning that he approved my request to go undercover for this assignment."

"When do we leave?" Doggett asked.

"Unfortunately, it may be just you and Starkweather," Scully settled behind her desk again.

"Budget restrictions?" Doggett's mind was still partially on the fact that he was going to get a big wet chunk bitten off his hindquarters during his Bureau budget meeting later on that day.

"No, parental restrictions." Scully sighed. "Will's been fussy all weekend and Mom called me, telling me that he's running a low grade fever. If he's coming down with something, I want to stay put."

"You use the daycare in the federal building?" Doggett asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"You know my buddy, Special Agent Ed Montgomery?" When Scully shook her head, he went on "We get together sometimes. Watch NASCAR, shoot the sh*t, whatever."

"Guy stuff." Starkweather interrupted, as low as her sweet soprano voice would allow her to go. "Manly men, doing manly things."

"ANYWAY," Doggett glared at Starkweather, who grinned like a naughty little girl. "He uses the federal daycare for his little girls too and he told me a few nights ago that they were sent home with the chicken pox. He asked me to baby- sit for a few hours last night so he and his wife could take a breather. Grab dinner, movie, whatever."

"Oh, God," Scully moaned. "Don't say chicken pox."

"That was damn near heroic of you, voluntarily watching two itchy anklebiters," Starkweather said approvingly. "Doesn't the Bureau have a medal of valor for going above and beyond the call of duty?"

"Well, if Will does come down with it, I am definitely homebound, but I will ask Skinner if I can work from home, so you will be able to reach me via phone or email if you need information or research or whatever."

"What about Monica Reyes?" Doggett asked. "Is she still MIA?" Special Agent Monica Reyes, in a fit of good intentions, was helping friends paint their house last March, slipped and fell from the ladder, shattering her tailbone, as well as suffering several other injuries.

"She's up and running and raring to get back to the X- Files, but she's not 100% mobile so she will also be back here, as office support." Scully responded.

"Finally, I get to meet her," Starkweather commented. "She sounds pretty cool," she turned to Scully and started to make whale mating calls.

"Agent Starkweather, do you mind?" Scully asked, slightly irritated.

"So, it's just me and Doggett?" Starkweather asked.

"Looks that way, doesn't it, Airman Obvious," Doggett fired back.

<<I wonder if Mulder and I irritated people the way they're irritating me right now?>> Scully thought, half amused, half, well, irritated. <<God, I hope not.>>

"Sir, yes SIR!" Starkweather snapped an Air Force perfect salute to her partner. To Scully, she asked. "So, what's the game plan for the undercover gig."

"Well..." here Scully smiled. "What I proposed to Skinner was to have someone go in as a college student working as an intern at the radio station." She and Doggett exchanged looks, then turned to Starkweather, grinning evilly.

"AW COME ON!!!!!!" she whined.

"Starkweather, it makes perfect sense. You're the only one who looks young enough to pull it off."

"Oh sure," she grumbled. "Send the rookie in to get pasted by the Thing from the Black Lagoon, thanks guys."

"I'll make sure you'll have round the clock surveillance. Doc, I'll have your back the entire time." Doggett assured her. "Nothing is gonna happen to you during my watch. That I can guaran - damn -tee."

"You'll also be living at Rose Hill College during your "internship."" Scully added. "Since all the murdered girls were students there, we want to know why that factors in. The best way to do that is to have you totally immerse yourself into the college culture."

"Does that mean I get to sleep through classes and go on wild drinking orgies while I'm there?"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." Scully said. "I need to tell you though, time is of the utmost importance here. Campus is generally deserted during now except for the few that elect to live up there during the summer. Classes, however, for fall semester start August 28.

We can't have FBI there when all those students come. The Bureau and the local police want this settled as quickly and quietly as possible."

"Shock, surprise." Starkweather deadpanned. "When do we leave?"

"You leave for Omaha, Nebraska in two days. The Omaha field office will brief you all on any additional information that might be uncovered. Your interview at..." Scully fumbled through her notes "KRRQ 101.3 FM is on August 6, ten AM, which should give you plenty of time to get you settled into your dorm room at Rose Hill. Agent Doggett," she turned to him, "will be staying at the Hilton in downtown Sioux City."

"Sioux City has a Hilton?" Doggett asked. "He gets to stay at a Hilton, I get to stay at a college dorm. How is this fair?" Starkweather continued to whine. "What kind of music does 101.3 play?"

"Country-western." Scully informed her.

"Cool," Doggett said.

Starkweather nearly gagged. "COUNTRY???? What did I do to you guys?"

"You talked through my lecture," Scully said.

"You ignore me when I tell you not to take unnecessary risks." Doggett added.

"You made fun of me when I told you my dog got eaten by an alligator."

"You make fun of me for watching NASCAR."

"You bought my kid a drum."

"You forgot to water my plants when I was out of town two weeks ago."

"You didn't feed Mulder's fish like you promised him and two died."

"You haven't paid me back the five bucks I loaned you for lunch yesterday."

"When was the last time YOU brought doughnuts?"

"Alright, alright," Starkweather grumbled. "I don't see how the Deputy Mayor's dead fish affects you, but okay..." she pouted.

"It affects me," Scully purred "because I had to listen to him whine about it for three days straight."

"And that," Starkweather grinned. "I wholeheartedly apologize for."

"I'm home!" Scully announced, dropping her briefcase to the floor with a thud. Margaret Scully came out, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Hi honey," she came over and gave her daughter a kiss.

"How's Will?"

"Grumpy," The new grandma cooed, "but I got him to sleep."

"The magic touch," Scully said with a smile. "Thanks Mom. Can you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I'd love to, but I better hit the road now if I want to travel while its still light out." Maggie went to get her things. Scully trailed her into her bedroom.

As Maggie finished her packing, Scully peeped into the crib, gingerly touching the baby's forehead. "Still warm," she mused. "I hope..."

"Hope what?"

"Hope what Agent Doggett doesn't come to pass." When Maggie gave her a quizzical look, Scully replied. "He said one of his friends uses the same daycare as I do. His kids were sent home earlier this week because they had the chicken pox."

"Chicken pox, oh no," Maggie sighed. "Well, maybe it's better to have them now and just get it out of the way."

"Awww... I was hoping it be a joy of childhood I would get to skip," Scully couldn't help whining.

"Imagine how I felt," Maggie said, shutting her suitcase and picking it up. "You, Missy and the boys all got it at the same time. I thought your father and I were going to divorce." She kissed her daughter again. "Good luck, Dana," she said, giving her a hug. "Call if you need anything."

Scully walked her mother to the door. Just as she was about to open it for Maggie, Deputy Mayor -- former Agent -- Fox Mulder let himself in. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Scully, you're leaving already?"

"Fox," she said. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Maggie'?"

Mulder grinned. "Probably a couple million more times. Do you need help with that?" "Oh no, I'm fine, but thank you for asking." She gave Mulder a peck on the cheek, smiled and said her goodbyes.

"Mulder," Scully said as he shut the door behind him. "I don't know if you should be here. Will is sick, it might be chicken pox."

"Oh, poor Boo," he sympathized. "Don't worry Scully, I've already had the chicken pox. Where is the little guy?"

"He's sleeping. Mom said he was cranky all day...."

"Poor kid," Mulder said again. "Well, listen," he said cheerfully. "The City Council meeting got cancelled tonight," he moved in on Scully, putting his hands on her hips and together started swaying, as if they were at a Catholic School dance. "And I was wondering if you wanted to play old-married-couple tonight. "Order pizza, rent some really cheesy movies we've seen thousands of times, just make out because we're too tired to have sex."

"Mulder," Scully let a hiccup of a girlish giggle escape. She edged closer to him, putting her arms around his neck. "Sounds awful tame."

"What do you want to do? Swing off the ceiling fans?"

Just then, Scully's phone rang. "Sorry," she broke away and answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Scully, it's Starkweather, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No," she lied. "What's up, Starkweather?"

"Starkweather?" A mischievous grin lit up Mulder's face. It gave him a great sensation of joy to irritate her. "Tell the Hurricane I say hi."

"Mulder says hello," Scully said, after shooting Mulder a dirty look. Mulder laughed and retreated into the kitchen to rummage through her refrigerator. "What's going on?"

"Did he call me Hurricane again?" Starkweather seethed on the other end. She really wished she could come up with a really good nickname for him, one that would put "Spooky" into retirement.

"No, of course not," Scully told her second diplomatic lie that day. "What's up?" "Well... I need some help, if you're not busy...."

"What?"

A pause. When Starkweather spoke again, she sounded utterly mortified. "Since I'm undercover and all, the Bureau gave me a credit card to go buy some clothes and stuff..."

"Yeah?"

"Scully," now she sounded desperate. "I despise shopping, plus I have no fashion sense whatsoever. In case you haven't noticed, all my suits are black. I mean, after being in the military for twelve years, I was told what to wear. Now I just order stuff out of catalogs."

"Your clothes are nice."

"Well, I mean, I know what looks **nice** and what looks good on me and... aw, hell, Scully, I'm at the mall, at the Gap with these sales associate snipers circling me and I'm trying to figure out what the hell a college student would wear." She was really begging now. "Help me Scully, I promise I'll bring doughnuts to work for the next three months."

Scully stifled laughter. "I'll be there in a bit. Meet me in the food court." She hung up the phone and went into the kitchen to find Mulder hanging up the other phone. "Mulder! What are you doing?"

"Being nosy." He grinned. "Go, answer the call of duty. I'll sit with Will and breathlessly await your return."

"Well," Scully went into her bedroom to change quick and to grab a purse. Mulder followed and flopped lazily on her bed. "Will's out like a light, you shouldn't have any problems." She unceremoniously threw off her suit and shoes and slipped into a pair of nice khakis and a white T-shirt.

Mulder watched, completely shamelessly. "Good thing you became a fed instead of a stripper, Scully, you have no rhythm" he said lewdly.

Scully grabbed on of Will's teddy bears and bounced it off of Mulder's head. "I'll see you later. Why don't you be useful and have dinner waiting when I get back?"

"The usual," he asked, still laying on the bed. "Half veggie, half everything else?"

"And no onions," Scully crossed over to kiss his forehead. "Keep an eye on Will, he's running a fever."

The minute she was out the door, as if on cue, Will woke up and started to howl. Mulder went over to the crib, reaching down for the baby. "How do you know?" he asked.

Scully found Starkweather sitting on a bench, disconsolately eating an hot fudge sundae, covered with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. "How can you eat like that and stay so skinny?" Scully asked, sitting besides her.

"Wanna bite?" Starkweather held up a spoon, melty chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream dripping with fudge.

"Mmmmm," Scully debated, crinkling her nose.

"Come on, it tastes better than that non-fat tofu-frutti dreamcicle crap you usually eat." She waved the spoon around. "Mmmm, yummy. Sugar, oils, caffeine, bad cholesterol... all those things that clog your arteries little by little until twenty years later you'll keel over from a massive coronary."

Scully snatched the spoon and gobbled the bite. "Ohhhh, that's good.."

"It's called the "Better than Sex" Sundae."

"Pretty damn close." Scully, out of character, said with her mouth full, diving in for another bite.

"Hey, get your own!" Starkweather laughed. "So, are you ready to shop?"

"You said you had a Bureau credit card?"

"Yep."

"Let's go waste some money...." Meanwhile, back at the FBI Headquarters

"I can assure you," Doggett said solemnly to the board of angry budget men. "We will endeavor to use our limited budget only in the most practical fashion..."

Meanwhile, at "The Express"

"How about this?" Starkweather held up a suede cream colored blazer up to her.

"Mmm, no..." Scully lounged in a red sofa, eating M&Ms. "You're too pale to wear light colors like that. It washes you out. Try the purple one." Starkweather held it up, then put it on. "Ooh, I like that. It really compliment your eyes."

"Really?" Starkweather admired herself in the giant mirrors. "Should I get the matching skirt?"

"Absolutely." Scully said. "I figure... College seniors are pretty poor. They'll have one or two nice suits for future interviews, a couple of flashy outfits for when they go out and then mostly grubby clothes to run around in. Sweat suits, lounging stuff. T-shirts. Pajamas. Plus we'll have to get you other college supplies. Shampoo, soap. Some dishes. Towels. School supplies, notebooks, pens. Calculator."

"Where do we go for stuff like that?"

"Target."

"What's the limit on this?"

"I think about fifteen hundred."

"How much have we spent here and at "Banana Republic?"

Meanwhile...

"And you have my word that Agents Scully and Starkweather are fully aware of the situation and will respect the limits set by this department," Doggett said gravely...

"Um," Scully said. "Well, with the suit and two shirts at "Banana Republic, plus this suit, plus the Doc Martens we got at "Payless Shoes"... only about four hundred. Give or take fifty."

"Oh, well that's not bad." Starkweather picked up her purchase and carried it over to the cash wrap. "Let's go to Target." As she handed the credit card over to the smiling sales associate, she asked. "Who gets to keep all of this after the assignment?" Scully shrugged. "I guess you do."

An evil grin crossed Starkweather's angelic face. "Scully, we're about the same size, aren't we?"

"Starkweather, that's fraud."

"That turquoise suit over there would look great on you... and it's on sale..." Scully crossed over, grabbed the suit and ceremoniously dropped it on the counter. "You rebel," Starkweather simpered.

"I think that's everything," Starkweather said, slamming the truck of the granny-white 1992 Dodge Dynasty she still drove, even though she could now afford better. "Jesus, we did some damage today."

"Well," Scully said, "as long as you have everything you need to pull this off." "I hope so," Starkweather hopped up onto the trunk of her car and sat for a bit, swinging her legs. "We maxed that card out. Are you gonna share that?" She pointed to the large bag of Cool Ranch Doritos Scully was snarfing down.

Scully climbed up onto Starkweather's trunk next to her and offered her the bag. Starkweather took a handful and watched Scully chow down. "Been awhile since something unwholesome touched your lips... Mulder not included," she added slyly. Scully nearly choked on a chip. She turned to Starkweather, about to unleash her famous redhead wrath, when she saw the teasing twinkle in Starkweather's puppy-dog hazel eyes. She blushed and giggled instead.

Starkweather scooched closer to her. "So... come one... dish with me...is he small, medium or OH MY GOD!!"

Still laughing, Scully leaned closer to her fellow G-woman, "Well...."

"OH MY GOD!!!" Mulder yelled, still at Scully's pacing with little Will in his arms, cursing at the television set. "That was SO a foul ball, you stupid ump!!" He looked down at Will, who was looking up at him with his big blue Scully eyes. "It's a conspiracy, you know," he told him. Then Mulder did what he never even in his wildest hallucinations thought he would do, he lapsed into 'baby-talk.' "Yes it is, yessssss it is. It's ALLLLL a bigggggggggggg conspiracy, isn't it Boo?" he lifted Will high in the air, making him giggle uncontrollably.

Scully's phone rang. Mulder settled Will back in the crook of his arm and with his free limb, snagged the phone. "Hello." "Mul-dah," Doggett drawled. "It's John Doggett."

"Hi Puppy Man. What's going on?"

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry." Mulder settled into the arm chair again. "So, Barkley, what's up?"

Doggett, laying on his bed, rubbed his temples. "Deputy Mayor," he said formally. "I have had a very VERY bad day. Please, just for once, could you spare me from your witty repartee?"

"How can I help you, Agent Doggett?" Mulder returned, equally formal.

"I'm just tryin' to track down Starkweather. We got a lot to talk about before we ship out to Sioux City-"

"Sioux City?" Mulder's eyes lit up. "Hey, are you guys going to get a chance to get up to Lake Okoboji? Scully and I went up there during one of our first field assignments together. Northwestern Iowa not only has a strong history of paranormal and extraterrestrial event but also a fascinating storehouse of Native American culture and folklore. Near Storm Lake, the small town surrounded by the lake clusters such as Lake Okoboji and Spirit Lake, in the nineteen hundreds, there was a massive massacre led by a rebel Sioux Indian named Inkpaduda. Only one woman lived to tell the tale of murder, kidnapping and-"

"MULDER," Doggett snapped. "As much as I love tiptoeing down the primrose memory trails of the X-Files with you, I REALLY need to find Starkweather. I tried her house, I tried her cell and got no answer."

"Oh, she's with Scully," Mulder said blithely. "They went shopping for your little trip."

"You didn't just say shopping, did you?" Doggett groaned.

"Yeah."

"You allowed two women armed with a Bureau credit card loose in a shopping mall?" "My, Doggett," Mulder cooed. "That didn't sound very politically correct because the tone of your voice insinuates that you can not trust two professional federal agents with the responsibility of a credit card for the simple fact that they're female."

"I don't trust them because they're Scully and Starkweather," Doggett grumbled.

"If the Hurricane shows up here, I'll tell her to give you a call."

"THANK YOU." Doggett sighed, "but wait, hey, if you do see her, tell her to just come find me tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to drink myself into senselessness now."

"Well, have a great night!" Mulder chirped.

"Urggh," was the closest Doggett could come up with as a farewell before he hung up the phone.

Mulder looked down at Will, who was drooling happily all over Mulder's favorite blue dress shirt. "That was Uncle John," Mulder said sweetly to the baby. "He's got a big stick up his butt. Yes he does, yes he does....."

Back at the Target parking lot...

Starkweather and Scully were about rolling off the trunk of Starkweather's car with laughter. "Oh, hell no!" Starkweather wiped tears of mirth out of her eyes. "For REAL?!?!?! He can actually BEND that way???"

Scully, covering her mouth like a adolescent girl, nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Wow, I never pictured him so flexible." She brushed a tendril of hair that had escaped her ever-present no- nonsense hairstyle, (today a tight French braid, with the tail bundled up in a neat bun) out of her eyes. "Oh, hey, look, the sun's setting. I didn't realize it's so late." She checked the clock on her cell phone, which had been on the silent setting all day. "Oh, I've got messages, hold on, hold on." She listened. "It's Doggett... he sounds angry... oof, he had a bad day... OOF, he said he got crucified by the scribes and Pharisees at the budget meeting..." she put her phone away and pulled the credit card out of her pocket. "Ooh, he said he wants to talk to me... Scully, we wore the writing off of this tonight. How am I going to explain that?"

"Don't start worrying about budget until you have to explain round trip tickets from DC to Antarctica plus leaving behind a snow prowler specially modified for sub- zero temperatures." Scully said with the wisdom of experience. "That's when you need to start being concerned."

"Duly noted." Starkweather brushed another lock of hair out of her face.

"One other thing, when you're undercover, wear your hair loose. It will help make you look younger."

"I hate wearing it down when I'm working though."

"But it looks too severe for a college student. Plus you have really nice hair. It's such a pretty color."

"I hate to bust your bubble, but it's dyed." Starkweather said as she started to release her hair from it's confines.

"Really?"

"Yep. My hair and eyebrows. I've been lightening them ever since I got out of Active duty. In real life it's REALLY dark," she shook her head violently to shake the rest of the braiding out. "I thought a blondish brown would look better with my skin tones than dark brown."

"Dark brown, huh?" Scully grinned.

"I know what you're thinking," Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Alright, alright," Scully said, sliding off the trunk. "As much as I hate cutting the party short, I should probably get home. I've left Mulder with a sick kid long enough."

"And I should probably face the music with Papa John," Starkweather also slid off of her car. "Hey Scully, thanks for coming out and helping me."

"Oh, it was no problem."

"No, seriously," Starkweather squirmed just a bit. She was never really good at losing her flippancy with expressing gratitude. "I mean, it was a good time. I mean..." she looked at her shoes for a minute, "I mean, this was cool. We should do this again sometime, not related to business... I... um...in case you haven't noticed, I don't get out that much and... I really don't have many... girl friends, most of my friends are guys so... it was kind of neat just hanging out tonight, doing girl stuff, you know." She looked up and saw Scully smiling tenderly at Starkweather. "If you hug me, I will kill you."

Scully just smiled. "Don't worry, I wouldn't do anything like that to you," she said while realizing that Starkweather just shared a major confidence with her, turn- about was fair play. "I understand what you're saying though. I get pretty wrapped up in my work too and I've lost touch with most of my close women friends... plus... this reminded me how much fun I used to have with my sister, Missy," her eyes clouded over briefly. "I lost her a few years ago, some men killed her, thinking she was me."

"Oh, Scully," Starkweather said softly. "God..."

"No, it's okay, it was a long time ago, I've come to grips with what happened, but I really miss the things we used to do, talking about men and our dreams, gorging ourselves on junk food until we were sick and just being silly. But tonight, just being out with you tonight, behaving like a pair of teenage nitwits... reminded me that nothing good ever really dies, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." Starkweather, despite her sarcasm a few minutes ago, crossed over and unexpectedly gave Scully a big hug. "See you in the dungeon tomorrow," was all she said when she let go and went into her car. Scully watched her drive off. She had always liked Starkweather as a person from the start and admired her dedication to her work. But after tonight, Scully knew in her heart that they had left the realm of respected colleagues for the wilderness of deep and lasting friendship. She also knew that Starkweather felt the same.

"Be careful in Sioux City, Jerilyn," she said out loud as a prayer while she walked to her car. "I don't want to lose another sister."

Starkweather peeped at Doggett from under her baseball cap. "You're still mad, aren't you?" she whimpered. Doggett stared out the window, tapping his pen against the files he was trying to read. "You..." he drawled slowly, "spent one thousand, four hundred, eighty-six dollars and twelve cents."

Starkweather cringed. "You know... Scully told me not to start worrying about budget until we have to explain airfare to and from Antarctica." Doggett turned and glowered at her. "I said I was sorry," she whimpered. Then she brightened. "Cheer up, Papa John. Just think, while I'll be sweating it out at a radio station and college dormitories, you get to live it up at the Sioux City Hilton." Doggett still glared at her murderously. "You could order room service on the Bureau's dime," she said meekly. Doggett clenched his jaw and turned back to the window. Starkweather dug in the pocket of her windbreaker, cupped a clumsily wrapped package in her hand, turned back to Doggett and turned on all her charm. "I bought you something. With my own money."

Doggett turned to her. "What?" he growled. Starkweather handed him her gift. He unwrapped it, "Oh wow," he said when he saw she had given him a Matchbox car- sized miniature of Dale Earnhart Senior's race car. "Aw, Starkweather, this was nice, you didn't have too."

"Still mad at me," she asked coyly, batting her eyelashes.

Doggett groaned. "I didn't know I could be bribed."

Starkweather grinned widely. "Every man has his price."

Doggett, like an excited little boy, examined his new toy meticulously, "Doc, you're a pain in the ass."

"You're welcome."

Meanwhile....

Scully was pacing back and forth in the living room with a squalling pink-spotted Will. "Oh, baby I know, I know," she crooned, about in tears herself. "I know it itches, baby, I know, I know..." She had already given him two oatmeal baths today but Will was still howling piteously. "Oh, Boo. Sweetheart.... oh my love, I know, I know," she said uselessly. She looked upwards, as if imploring God. "I want my mommy...." she groaned.

Just then, her doorbell rang. Scully jumped. "Mom?" she said wondering, hoping. She nearly ran for the door...

Scully threw open the door, but instead of seeing her mother, she saw Mulder, sweating buckets with fever shining in his eyes. "Scully," he said hoarsely, frantically scratching the back of his neck. "Something's wrong."

"Come in, come in," she said juggling Will. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he moaned, letting Scully lead him to her couch. She put the fussy baby in his swing and while he whined, Scully sat by Mulder, feeling his forehead. Mulder now scratched his chest. "I woke up yesterday feeling lousy, and today, I'm running a fever plus I broke out in a rash. I think I'm having an allergic reaction to something, but I don't know what. I haven't been near any unusual plants that I know of, or eaten anything abnormal. I switched laundry detergent, but Jesus, Scully, I'm about ready to crawl out of my skin. The Mayor sent me home today."

Scully, doctor-quick, took off his tie and deftly undid the buttons of his dress shirt. She whipped off his white T- shirt and examined the rash. She flopped away from him, running her fingers through her head, yelling. "No!! This is NOT happening!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Panicked, Mulder quailed, "What is it? What's happening to me?"

"MULDER!" she snapped. "You have the chicken pox."

"WHAT!!!" Mulder leapt off the couch, examining his arms and belly, then scratching his belly. "That's not possible!! I had them already! Sammantha and I had them the same time. I was nine, she was five, we were up at Martha's Vineyard for the summer..."

"Mulder, your immune system is out of whack. I shouldn't have let you near Will two days ago, but I forgot..." Scully went into the bathroom. Mulder heard water running. "What are you doing?"

"Bring Will here."

Mulder obeyed. "C'mere sicky," he cooed to the sniffling baby. Together they went into the bathroom and they found Scully pouring liberal doses of the oatmeal bath powder into the tub. She looked up at Mulder. "Strip."

"Scully, this is hardly the time."

"You and Will are going to soak in this tub until you are both pruny or unconscious, whichever comes first," she said, sounding sharper than she meant to. She was so tired, she had spent all last night, singing lullabies, rubbing calamine lotion and literally begging Will to go to sleep. She took Will and undressed him as Mulder, for the first time in a long time, feeling completely self-conscious as he peeled his clothes off. He climbed into the tub and held his arms out for Will. Scully handed the itchy infant to him. "I am running to the store for more calamine lotion and fluids. Neither one of you are going anywhere for awhile." She stalked out of the bathroom. "And DON'T SCRATCH!!!" She yelled before she left the apartment with a slam of the door.

Mulder settled Will on his stomach facing him, then together they sank into the soothing waters. "Well, kid," he said to Will who was reaching for Mulder's big nose. "Looks like we're in this together." Will, for the first time a few days, was finally happy. He squealed in delight. "Thanks a lot, Boo." Mulder traced his tiny cheekbones with his great big finger. "This isn't what I had in mind when I told your mom I wanted to spend more quality time with you." He kissed Will on his forehead with a groan.

Armed with her purchases from her power-shop marathon with Scully, a beat-up 1977 booger-green Chevette confiscated from a piddly drug raid in Omaha, Nebraska, her beloved cell phone, and her little Beretta snugly strapped to her ankle, Special Agent Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather made her arrived to the college. She stopped her car at the bottom of the enormous hill and looked up. "Jiminy Christmas, it looks like a state pen," she muttered to herself before she put the crappy car in gear again and drove up.

As she parked her car, she recited her cover story again, "My name is Jeri O'Brien, I'm a senior from Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, I'm completing my final internship at 101.3 KRRQ. My name is Jeri O'Brien, I'm a senior from Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, I'm completing my final internship at 101.3 KRRQ. My name is Jeri O'Brien, I'm a senior from Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, I'm completing my final internship at 101.3 KRRQ..." She drove up the winding driveway and found her way to the women's dormitories.

A very effeminate man neatly dressed was waiting for her. "Hi!" he said with much over-excitement in his voice as she got out of her car. "You must be Jeri."

"Must be," she said with a smile holding her hand out. He clasped it overfamiliarly. "I'm.. uh, really glad that your school was able to help me out... letting me stay here and all."

"Oh no problem, no problem whatsoever. Creighton is our sister school," he said proudly. "My name is Preston Erwin," he said with a hand flourish I'm the resident coordinator for Oona Hall and if you need anything, have any issues that you need resolved with Residence Life, you just let me know, okay?" He patted her hand. Starkweather resisted the urge to deck him.

"Now, let me show you your room and then I'll take you for a tour of the campus." He said, letting go of her hand, but making no move to help her carry her very heavy suitcase, duffel bag or backpack. "I'll get you your room keys and 'guard card' after the tour." He prattled on as they walked through the parking lot, around the hedges and up the wheel chair ramp to the door. "The 'guard card' is the electronic key to this building." He said, opening the door for her.

Starkweather paused, "Wow, what a view," she said appreciatively, surveying the city below her.

"It is breath-taking, isn't it?" he said proudly.

Just then, the wind shifted and Starkweather about gagged. "Oh my God," she said, trying to cover her nose with the best of her ability, being weighed down with her hands. "What is that stench???"

Preston shrugged. "Oh, the winds changed. The stockyards and the water treatment plant are near downtown so when the winds change, it does reek a bit. You'll get used to it." He walked inside. Starkweather hurried after him.

"This is our greeting room," Preston said cheerfully. "To your left, is our giant reception room where we'll hold meetings and such. The president's office is behind you to the left, all of our Admissions offices are down the hall. He continued playing tour guide while Starkweather's feline eyes darted here, there, everywhere, taking in everything, forgetting nothing.

He led her to the elevators. "The second floor is where we keep all the Alumni Offices. My apartment suite and offices are there too. Plus there are some dorm rooms there, but those are only in use during the school year." He said as the elevator slowly rattled up. "Normally, the third and fourth floors are all women but in the summer, we convert fourth floor into male residence life so the male summer residents can have a place to stay while their dorms are being thoroughly cleaned. You'll be staying on this floor," he said as the elevator doors squeaked open.

The heat was the first thing to hit Starkweather. Everything was cinderblock walls. There was absolutely no air moving in the halls, despite the wide open doors and windows, plus the whirring of fans buzzing around her. "Unfortunately, only the TV lounge is air-conditioned," Preston said apologetically. "Alot of the girls sleep in there at night, like a big slumber party, although we try to discourage it. Security issues." he said somberly. He lead her to the end of the hall. "Here it is, Room 302," he said. "Actually, it's the nicest room on the floor. It has one wall that has wood paneling."

<<Goody goody>> Starkweather thought sourly to herself as she felt sweat trickle down her neck. **Come on, girl** she thought **soldier up, you've done two mile runs in BDUs during Basic down in the Devil's Playground of Texas, you can handle this... no I can't, Jesus, it's hot.>> "Tori?" Preston tapped on the door to 302. "Your roommate is here."

"Roommate?" Starkweather said, genuine panic in her voice. "Um, I'm signed up for a single room."

"Oh, the availability wasn't there," he said as he tapped on the door again.

"But..." Starkweather tried not to sound like a 28-year-old ex-Airman, nonpracticing doctor and current FBI agent but like a naive 22-year-old. "I was told I'd have a private room. I need to do a lot of studying."

"Well," Preston huffed, "someone must have told you wrong and I apologize but look on the bright side," he became chipper again. "You'll save money with a double room plus it's a great opportunity to make friends."

<<Yeah, the friends will start rolling in once they see my BADGE and GUN!!!>> she screamed on the inside while keeping a sickly smile on the outside. She was dying in her baggy jeans and T-shirt, which were now sticking to her. She had spent a little time in Iowa when she was younger and she had forgotten how humid Iowa got.

A squeally voice chirped up behind them. "Hi, Preston, sorry I wasn't in my room, hey, are you Jeri?" she said in a perfect sorority girl tones. Starkweather turned around and saw a tiny girl with big brown eyes and a brown bob hair cut smiling away at them. She was wearing short "Daisy Duke" cut-off jean shorts and lavender halter top with the word "Princess" screen printed on. "Hi, I'm Victoria Wilkenson, but you can call me Tori."

<<Oh God...>> "Hi," Starkweather smiled. "It's nice to meet you...." <<somebody shoot me>> "You're gonna to be working at a radio station? That is so cool!" she trilled. "Are you at Sweet Sexy 96? They are having a HUGE ticket giveaway for Janet Jackson's big tour..." Starkweather allowed herself to be led into her prison for the next two weeks. <<SHOOT ME NOW!!!!>> she moaned to herself as Tori rattled on about all the fun they were going to have....

Meanwhile.....

"SCULLLLLY......" Mulder whined.....

Scully's eyes popped open. It had felt like she had only slept four minutes. Actually she had only slept four hours, Will kept her up again, whining and crying, flailing his little arms. Not understanding what those little pink dots where all over his body, not understanding why he had to take some many baths and why he had to be covered with smelly calamine lotion. All he understood was that he was hot, he was itchy and he wanted his mommy to fix it.

Worn out, Will finally fell asleep and Scully dove for her bed, hoping for a respite.

"SCULLLLLLLLLLY."

Through gritted teeth, Scully reminded herself, "It's a miracle he's alive, I'm happy he's here, it's a miracle he's alive, I'm happy he's here, it's a miracle he's alive, I'm happy he's here..." as she swung herself out of bed, her nice, soft, comfortable bed...

"What?" she asked Mulder in a voice just as whiny as his.

"It's hot in here," Mulder's fingers crept up to his face, which had broken out in a nice display of pink spots. "Can you turn the air on?? Please???????"

"Mulder," Scully had her winter pajamas on plus her heavy terry robe. "It's only sixty degrees in here. My electric bill is going to kill me this month. And don't scratch."

"I'm not scratching," Mulder said innocently.

"Bullshit," Scully snapped.

Rabidly, Mulder scratched his shoulders. "Scully, maybe this is the deadly virus the aliens are planning on unleashing on the unsuspecting population."

"Mulder, it's early, I haven't had a decent night of sleep in days, I'm too tired and too pissed off to entertain one of your ludicrous theories." "Think about it Scully," Mulder frantically scratched his chest. "Imagine the world incapacitated with a super- chicken pox virus. We'd be easy pickings."

"You're right," Scully said coolly. "Chicken pox is far deadlier than the black oil."

"You think so??" Mulder said, confused. "You're agreeing with me???"

"Yes," Scully scowled. "Because if you keep talking, I'm going to kill you."

Mulder grinned.

Starkweather finally managed to break away from her obnoxious tour guide and even more obnoxious roommate later on that afternoon. She walked across the small campus to the library. She breathed a sigh of relief when the air conditioning hit her. She leaned against the glass door, rubbing her temples.

"Can I help you?"

Starkweather's head snapped up when she noticed a fat, pale boy with limp black hair and dying calf eyes, staring at her in appreciation.

"Um, no," irritated, she brushed her long hair out of her face. "I'm just looking for a place to cool off."

"Well, this IS the best place to be... to cool off," he stuttered. "Um, we do close at four though. We don't keep it open late during the summer."

"Of course you don't," Starkweather muttered.

"You must be new, I haven't seen you around before, I'm Barry."

"Hi Barry," Starkweather said coolly. "I'm Jeri. I go to school at Creighton, but I'm finishing my internship here in Sioux City."

"You left Omaha for here?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to work at a radio station and 101.3 accepted me."

"101.3!?!?!" Barry turned even paler. "Are you for real? I mean, nobody told you what happened there?"

Starkweather and Doggett had both decided that it would be best that she go in under the guise of ignorance. "No, what?" "A girl got murdered there." Barry's eyes were wide in fright. "She was my friend, Candi Gallimore. We went to high school together."

"Oh," Starkweather tried to sound afraid. "How awful. I'm sorry," <<might want to keep an eye on Barry>> she made a mental note to herself. "But, I'm going to only working in the office during the day, so, I'm not afraid. Um... is there a bathroom here?"

"Sure, take the elevator and hang a left."

Starkweather could feel the sad fat boy's eyes watching her as she walked to the elevator. As soon as the doors slid open, she practically ran inside. Once she got up to the second floor, she bolted for the bathroom. It was just a just a single stall, single room, so she bolted the door shut. She whipped her phone out of her pocket and frantically dialed.

"John Doggett."

"Papa John, it's me, we've got a major situation." she hissed in a whisper.

"Are you alright?" "NO. I'm not, I've got a Pillsbury Doughboy downstairs makin' eyes at me, plus they stuck me in a double room with a roommate who peeked in life as her high school's Prom Queen."

"Aw, shit," Doggett groaned. "Where's your gun and badge?"

"With me, but hell, Doggett, what do I do???" "I am not comfortable with you not being armed while working at that station," Doggett said.

"I am not comfortable living with the pretty pretty Princess not being armed."

"Think you can hide your firearm?" "Maybe I can stash it in the car," Starkweather paced. "On the bright side, the Doughboy claims he was friends with the victim. Maybe if I get to know him, which I really don't care to by the way, I can gain some more insight on the homicide."

"What are you thoughts on this Starkweather?"

"Well, I think..." Starkweather's expertise was forensics but she had a gift for profiling as well. One of the reasons she stayed with the X-Files was it allowed her to explore to what extent of her profiling skills really reached. As of right now, she was almost to par with Mulder. Almost, but not quite. "... I think... I think I'm about to say a phrase that all law enforcement agencies cringe at."

"You're thinking serial killer."

"Ding ding ding." Starkweather said dryly. "According to the evidence Scully showed us during her slide show, it's an internal affair."

"You mean somebody working at that station is hacked off and taking it out on the young things working with them." Doggett made a grunt of agreement. "But what's the connection to Rose Hill?"

"The killer probably attended, for a semester or two before he dropped out."

"You're sure it's a he?"

"White, male, mid to late thirties. Strong. Strong enough to break a girl's neck with a headphone's cord. It almost all fits together except for the desecration of the body."

"Desecration?"

"The pink goo, it's a symbol, the killer is trying to tell us something. It smacks of ritualism. Cult behavior maybe. But, it's beyond me right now."

"Starkweather, we've almost got the surveillance up and running on the station. The techies are just having a hell of a time getting the phone taps in, there's someone in that station twenty-four/seven."

"I want those taps in before I go in tomorrow," Starkweather said.

"Don't bite my head off Doc," Doggett said. "I've been busy putting my boot up some folks' asses all afternoon. It will be done."

"Alright," Starkweather said. "Listen, I got to go before the Doughboy down there comes up to check if I fell in."

"Be careful Starkweather." Doggett said. "I'll be here waiting for you to check in."

"I'm counting on that," she said as she switched off. "Oh man," she muttered as she left the bathroom.

Plastering the fakest of smiles on her face, she forced herself to march towards Barry.

"We've got to close up now," he said in a whimper.

"Say," she said, sweetly. Starkweather could be as flirty and charming, as she wanted to be, when she wanted to be. "Since the cafeteria isn't open during the summer and I don't know anyone here yet..." she simpered. "I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to get..." she blanked <<what do poor college students eat?>> "... food?" she finished lamely.

Barry lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really?" he beamed. "We could," now he was trying to be all suave and sophisticated. "Uh, go up to my room, order pizza. I have beer," he said proudly, leaning on a stack of books, which instantly gave way- falling on his big feet. "Ow!!" he yelped, hopping around.

<<Oh Gawd>> she privately moaned to herself. "Um... I was thinking more along the lines of walking to McDonald's"

"Walking???" he gasped. She may have well just suggested going skinny-dipping in boiling oil.

"It's such a nice day out," - 99 degrees in the shade plus 100% humidity. "- it'd be good to walk," <<especially for you Porkchop>> she thought meanly. She instantly felt bad because, just looking at him in his dirty black shorts, untucked giant red T-shirt that looked too small for him and the dandruff in his hair, standing alone in a deserted library, staring at her like a wounded kitten, she realized he didn't have a friend in the world.

She was about to find out why later that day, but right now her conscience was nibbling at her for thinking such cruel thoughts about a poor obese college student. "Or we could take my car."

"You have a CAR???" <<Maybe I'd be putting him out of his misery if I shoot him>> she wondered as she waited for him to lock up. Three painful hours later... McDonald's, West Side Location Sioux City, Iowa

"So, then when my parents said they were leaving to move to Cedar Falls, I said, I'm NOT moving, I'm NOT leaving my friends, an' I packed up my shit and moved to the dorms," Barry bragged with a mouthful of fries.

Starkweather's eyes were glazed over in apathy. Her favorite Value Meal (Big Mac, Super sized fries and Coke) sat mostly untouched.<<Jesus kid, you're killing me>> she thought aching with pure unadulterated boredom. She made a mental memo to herself to start a major prank war with Scully for setting her up on this undercover gig.

"Starkweather," Scully had said to her at the airport before she and Doggett's flight took off, "you don't know the pain of undercover until you have to pose as husband and wife with Mulder." "Oh suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure," Starkweather had drawled. "I bet you hated that."

Scully arched one delicate eyebrow, her hallmark. "Starkweather," she had said pleasantly, "there is a very good reason why Mulder and I maintain separate apartments."

<<Scully, payback for this one is going to be a bitch>> she mentally promised her friend.

Barry was still rattling on. "But then all my friends moved away," he said sadly. "Gonna eat that?" he pointed to her food.

She shoved it towards him. "But Candi was still here," Starkweather said. <<C'mon kid, don't make this pity date a complete waste.>>

Barry brightened. "Candi was AWESOME. She's like one of my best friends," his eyes misted over. "I was a pallbearer."

"Are they close to finding the creep who killed her?"

Barry shrugged. "I dunno. I mean... nah, it's stupid. You'll think I'm stupid."

"Now why would I think that?" she said while thinking <<you want me to list the reasons why in order of importance or alphabetically?>>

"'Cause people think... well... I mean..." He lowered his voice. "Some of the guys think... it was ghosts."

"Ghosts??" Starkweather said flatly.

"See, you don't believe me."

"Do you think it was ghosts?" <<Please say no>> Starkweather groaned to herself.

"Well, Candi and I, when we'd go get high together sometimes-"

<<Good,>> Starkweather thought <<Admit to drug use in front of a federal agent, good job.>>

"-she'd tell me she's hear weird things at night, banging on the walls and stuff. Sometimes the lights would flicker and go weird, but then, well Candi would go in drunk a lot of the times 'cause, you know, she's have to be there at eleven thirty, so she's party until then. Have a buzz for her show."

"Was she a real big stoner?" <<This could be relevant>> She made another mental note to email Scully and ask if any trances of drug and alcohol were in the girl's system.

"Gawd no," Barry looked horrified. "She liked to do a little pot, but she was more of a beer girl. No big deal."

<<No big deal, my white ass,>> she thought bitterly. Starkweather had zero tolerance for any drug use.

"Mmm," was all she said.

"Do you smoke the wacky weed?" Barry asked eagerly. "If you do, I've got a little in my room-"

"Nah, that's okay," Starkweather said. She looked at her watch. "Wow, look at the time. I gotta get back, I need to email... my dad."

"Are you going to Bob's party tonight?"

"Party?" she said blankly.

"Sure, everyone's in the dorms are gonna be there."

"Um, we'll see," she said lamely. "Are you ready?" She said, a hair impatient.

Meanwhile...

Scully was hunched over her computer. If she looked less than her lovely self, she had ever right to. If Will wasn't crying for her attention, Mulder was. Plus, she had just gotten off the phone with Doggett. The entire sting operation sounded like an incredible mess already and they hadn't even been there a full day yet.

Wearing a white T-shirt, stained with strained carrots, a pair of Mulder's cotton boxers (the only clean non-work bottoms she could find in her now topsy-turvy apartment) her normally flawlessly styled hair clipped back awkwardly in two big barrettes, her reading glasses sliding off her nose, she was hunched over her computer, poring through the autopsy reports with a fine tooth comb, looking for something... anything... a break...

"Sculllllly...."

"WHAT????" Scully snapped.

"Can I PLEASE take these off?" Mulder plaintively whimpered, holding up his hands, which had potholders duct taped on to them. "I won't scratch, I promise," he poured on the charm, even using the "look-at-me-I'm-so-boyish-and- cute" puppy dog look in his eyes.

Scully scowled ferociously. "Yeah right."

"It's just that it's hard to thumb through these files with these damn things on."

"Spread the papers on the floor," was Scully's unsympathetic reply.

"You're really beautiful when you're angry," Mulder tried again. When he got the evil eye from Scully, he simpered "and this is about the most beautiful you've ever been in a long time."

"Mulder, come here, I just got an email from Doggett you may want to look at," Scully said, maximizing her AOL screen.

Mulder got off the couch and hovered over Scully. He placed his chin on top of Scully's head. "Scully, when was the last time you took a shower? Your hair is really greas- OW!!!!" Scully had thudded him in the chest with her elbow. "You know, aliens cut open my chest right there, you could have damaged somethin-"

"Mulder, shut up and read this," she said with a sigh. "I'm going to check on Boo and take that shower you so helpfully recommended."

"You LOVE me!!!" Mulder sang out as Scully left the room in a huff. He looked at the oven mitts on his hands. "How am I suppose to type???" he grumbled as he twitched nervously. Mulder had been gifted with the mother of all chicken pox cases. He had them everywhere, on his face, his chest, his arms and legs, his back, his neck, the back of his neck, on his scalp and even on his unmentionables. If he could have peeled his skin off and paraded around in just muscle and bone exposed, he would have gladly.

Awkwardly, he maneuvered the mouse and read Doggett's post:

"TO: queegqueg68@AOL.com CC: TRUSTNO1@hotmail.com, skinnerw@fbi.org, reyesm@fbi.org, lonegunmen@lonegunmen.com FR: papajohn1013@hotmail.com RE: FW: this place sucks Agent Scully - Starkweather just sent this to me, thought you and Mulder might like have a look. Feedback appreciated/needed. FYI: "doughboy" is a college kid who claims he knew the victim and has major crush on Agent Starkweather. Will do background check on him as soon as get more info on him. Thanks- Agent Doggett TO: papajohn1013@hotmail.com FR: jeribs@AOL.COM RE: this place sucks

Papa John - ok, I remember why I never lived on campus while I was in college, but anyway - didn't get much info from the doughboy, but he did say that the victim used to smoke the happy weed with him on occasion and was a bit of a party girl. Have Scully check tox finding in autopsy. Doughboy also said the radio station is reputed to be haunted. Can't believe I'm writing this but ask Mulder to do a little research on any supernatural/paranormal events in the Sioux City area. Alien sightings, Indian burial grounds, blah blah blah. Also have the Lone Gunman check in any electronic abnormalities in the area for the past three years. Must go, am being drug to a drunken orgy upstairs. Am hoping to find more people who knew victims. By the way, this place is hotter than hell - I will get each and every one of you who put me in this situation. Starkweather " Mulder grinned in true mirth. "Aww," he crooned. "Poor little Hurricane."

Scully came out in her pajamas. "Well, what do you think?"

"Well, I'll call Reyes to have her bring the files from our experiences in Sioux City or I would but...." he held his hands up again and open and shut them like sock puppets.

"Fat chance," Scully said as she went to the phone and dialed Reyes' number....

Mulder leaned back in Scully's chair, thoughtfully nibbling on a potholder. "Ghosts generally don't have a reputations for physically harming the living. Scare them witless, maybe..."

"Agent Reyes?" Scully held up a finger to hush Mulder for a moment, "Hi, it's Agent Scully... oh I'm fine, Will's sick... chicken pox... oh, thank you... yes... yes, Mulder is here too... well, he caught chicken pox from Will so... sure, sure, just a moment," she went to her phone, "I'm going to put Agent Reyes on speaker, so behave yourself, alright?"

Mulder smirked.

Reyes' pleasant voice spoke through the speakers. "Dana, Fox, can you hear me alright?"

"PLEASE don't call me 'Fox'," Mulder grumbled. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, Deputy Mayor," Monica Reyes said. "How's the itching?"

"Miserable. How's your ass?" Mulder quipped, referring to Reyes' unfortunate mishap when she fell from the ladder while painting a friend's house.

"Mulder," Scully hissed. "I was expecting your call actually," Reyes blew off Mulder's smart assed remark. "I just finished reading John and Jerilyn's emails. How can I help?"

"Can you bring us File X-10193. It's a case in the Sioux City area that Mulder and I worked on when I first started in the X-Files." "Absolutely, when do you need it?"

"Tonight," Mulder said.

"Tomorrow," Scully frowned at him. "Have any feelings on this case?" Scully asked while Mulder rolled his eyes.

A thoughtful pause and then "I sense a lot of anger. Frustration."

"From???" Mulder asked snidely. "Doggett? Starkweather?"

"The victim?" Scully asked seriously.

"No... the killer. When I read the file, I had a sensation of frustration. The killer is trying to tell us something... I feel... I sense the killer is only a small piece of the puzzle, of the bigger mystery of that station."

"Can you possibly get any hokey-er, VooDoo Queen?" Mulder asked.

"I sense...." Reyes said dramatically, "I sense.... I sense that if you don't start acting like a human being instead of a spoiled child like you have been in the past forty- eight hours, Dana is going to put you back in your grave permanently."

"Thank you," Mulder said. "We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view."

"THANK you, Agent Reyes," Scully said sincerely. "We really do appreciate your help."

"No problem. I'll stop by during my lunch break tomorrow with the files, a fresh supply of calamine lotion and some goodies for you to munch on. I'm guessing your groceries are running low."

"Oh, Monica, you're a godsend," Scully sighed. "Good night."

"Good night Dana. Good night FOX," she said before she hung up. Mulder scowled. "Does she have to be so damn cheery all the time?"

"Don't worry Mulder," Scully assured him, "Another year with the X-Files, she will have lost that bright sheen of hope and optimism and become just as dark, depressing and serious like the rest of us."

"Thank God," Mulder said.

"You're coming to the party, that is so cool!" Tori squealed. "But, you're wearing that??"

Starkweather was still in her same clothes. Tori had changed into bright red, midriff baring halter top and a pair of skin tight Capri pants with matching chunky red sandals.

"What's wrong with this?" **It covered up my gun** Starkweather hadn't found time to hide her weapon yet. She nixed the idea of leaving it in her car. With her luck, the car would be stolen or broken into or...

"Come on, they'll be carnage up there!"

"Carnage?"

"Carnage, red meat, hotties.... are you lesbian?"

"What???" Starkweather swallowed a hiccup of laughter. "No." Unconsciously, she fidgeted with the finger where she normally wore her wedding ring.

"Then, c'mon, let's doll you up," she stuck her head out of the door, "Mandi! Jennifer!!! Get your asses over here!"

"WHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" a whiny female voice shouted back. "We have a fashion crisis, we need you STAT! It's makeover time!!!!" Tori swooped down on Starkweather and took her hands. "Girl we are gonna chick you out tonight!!!"

"You're gonna WHAT????"

Two Tori-clones materialized, armed with massive makeup bags. "Omigod, are you like a tomboy or jock or something?" The girl named Jennifer asked her.

<<What grade are you all in???>> Starkweather stared at them.

Meanwhile, Mandi went behind Starkweather and started fussing with her hair. "Think we should cut it? No offense, but you look like a hippie and that's so 1997."

"NO." Starkweather rose off of the bed she was sitting on and put her hands on her head to defense her long Rapunzelish hair which she was defiantly vain about.

"No no no," Tori said, shooing Mandi away, "Long hair is so making a comeback. Come on, let's get her into a phat outfit, and Jeri, honey, you really need to start wearing a little makeup. You look like you're sixteen." <<That's the best compliment you could have given a woman who's staring thirty straight in the face>> "Really, ya'll are sweet, but-"

"How about this?" Jennifer held up one of Tori's tops, a little-to-the-imagination pink tank top with had purple and diamonte intricately studded on around the bodice in the shape of flowers.

"Oh that is BAD," Mandi approved. <<I'm in hell>> Starkweather thought in horror as she allowed herself to be lead to a chair. Tori attacked her hair with hair bands and a curling iron while Mandi and Jennifer opened their makeup cases. Bob's room 11:30 PM

The elevators opened up and Starkweather allowed herself to be lead by the trio of three giggling girls. Some doors were flung open to let out the oppressive heat and to invite whomever inside. Other doors were closed, but Starkweather could hear the music thumping inside all of them.

Tori knocked on a door, "This is it," she said excitedly. A tall, good looking blond boy opened the door. "Hi, Bobby," Tori demured. "This..." she presented Starkweather, "is my new roomie Jeri."

Mrs. Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather MD, United States Airman, honorably discharged, Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation stood there uncomfortably in a too tight pink tank top decorated in gaudy rhinestones, tottering on a pair of high heeled black sandals. Her long hair was poofed out in curls except for some of the strands that Tori had braided into tiny plaits. She wore a pair of huge silver hoop earrings and so much makeup, she was convinced she'd have to use a putty knife to scrape it off. The only things on her that were hers were her jeans, her gun, still safely strapped undetected under her pant leg and a necklace that she had hidden underneath what little of a top there was to the tank top. "Hi," she said. <<I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world.... somebody kill me....>>

"Hey, whassssssssup, c'mon in," Bob escorted the ladies in. There were two other girls and about six other guys crammed into that tiny space. There was a bunk bed, where two guys and a girl laid across on the top bunk, three guys sitting on the bottom with the other girl laying across their laps, all watching the TV across the way, giggling and joking, swilling cheap beer. The last guy was sitting on the futon that was crammed into the room, in front of the window, which was completed covered with the Canadian flag. There were three dorm fridges, a complete stereo system, a TV, a Playstation and a sad little desk lamp all jammed into the room. Cigarette smoke hung oppressively above everyone. "We're just chillin' and drinkin'," Bob said modestly. "Have a seat, have a beer, hang with us for a while." Bob flopped on the futon, opened the fridge that was sitting on the desktop, and popped the top.

Tori pounced on Bob in a heart beat, sitting almost on his lap. Jennifer and Mandi, after getting their beers squished their way up onto the top bunk with the other people. Starkweather sat next to Bob's roommate.

"Hey, I'm Bill," he was a small, squarish handsome boy with wire rimmed glasses and a goatee. "Is it true what Tori said? You're going to Spook Country 101.3?"

"Yeah, I'm interning there." Starkweather said.

"Aw, girl," Bill said, already more than a little drunk. "You crazy, you know that? You heard the shit that went on there right?" "I heard a story about a girl being killed, but..." Starkweather shrugged and tried to look naive, which came easy for her with her innocent pixie-doll face. "I dunno, it sounded like a bad horror flick, y'know? Like a crappy 'Scream' ripoff."

"I heard," the girl on the top bunk volunteered, butting into the conversation. "That some homeless dude broke into the station, raped her and stabbed her like over a hundred times and stole all their CDs." "Cera, you dumb bitch, that's bullshit," Mandi said. "The news said she was strangled." "The news doesn't always tell the truth, I should know, I'm a journalism major," Cera retorted, irritated that she had to share her loft and the two guys with two other girls now. "You know the cops make the press withhold information sometimes to they can weed out the psychos who claim they did it when they really didn't do it."

"Why the hell would someone volunteer to go down for a murder?" Bob asked while Tori stroked the back of his neck.

"'Cause they're psychos." Cera replied proudly.

The guy laying next to Cera, Tommy offered "I heard it was like a monster who iced her. Like a vampire or something that sucked all the life outta her and she was nothing left but pink slimy sh*t."

"Aw please," Tori rolled her eyes. "Now THAT'S from a fucking bad movie. Vampires, my ass."

"Well, Tori," Mandi protested, defending the guy she liked while giving Cera the evil-hands-off-he's-mine look, "I don't know, the station is close to Devil's Hollow."

"Devil's Hollow, aw, puke barf, Mandi, you are not lame enough to believe that crap," Tori again rolled her eyes dramatically. "'Sides, can we cool the whole 101.3 crap already? We don't wanna scare Jeri off already, she's our hookup for the summer, you are 21, right?" she asked out of the blue.

<<Ah ha, so THAT'S way I was invited>> Starkweather thought while trying to ignore the fact that Bill was making serious eyes at her and had just put his arm around her shoulders. "No, it's cool. Tell me more about Devil's Hollow, I LOVE a good ghost story," she purred. "One that can keep me up at night."

Bill's arm tightened a little bit. "If you get scared, you can stay here tonight," he said seductively.

Starkweather heroically resisted the urge to deck him. "It takes a lot to freak me out," she continued to purr while thinking <<like nutballs starting a shootout in a crowded mall, a drug bust gone sour, shape shifting aliens. Trust me, buddy boy, I've seen things that would make you pee yourself>>

Mandi had the spotlight and she reveled in it. "A few miles or so past the radio station, just off of highway 75, there's like a religious tourist trap called "Trinity Heights." It's on top of a giant hill and there's a chapel and a memorial to all the souls lost to abortion and giant metal statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. I mean, they are HUGE, the size of buildings even. Inside the chapel, there's life size carvings of the Last Supper. But beyond that, there is a valley behind the hill called 'Devil's Hollow', an ancient Indian burial ground where the spirits of the Indians resent the symbol of white man's religion sitting upon there lands. Their spirits rise at night to seek revenge on any white man who dares to leave the sanctuary of Trinity Heights and ventures down into Devil's Hollow."

Starkweather could not contain herself. "Bullshit," she said, bored.

Everyone else giggled a little. Mandi bristled. "Well, that's what I heard."

"Any proof?" Starkweather's natural skepticism bubbled forth.

"I don't know, I've heard stories..." Mandi mumbled, now wanting to relinquish the spotlight. "Scared me enough. I mean, Jesus, it makes sense. The radio station is like less than a mile away... in the **Indian hills** neighborhood... Candi did say once that she heard strange noises at night," she said defensively.

"You knew Candi?" Starkweather asked casually.

A silence descended. "We all knew Candi," Bob said with a shrug. "She was alright. I mean, she didn't think she was hot shit or nothing, she was cool to just about anybody. But she did her own thing, you dig?" Bob put his arm around Tori. "I think..." Starkweather said slowly. Trying to make herself speak college lingo instead of federal agent jargon. "I think it's easier... um... we want to believe in ghosts. Because it's easier to believe that a ghost or a devil or whatever killed her instead of a mortal man because what kind of a person could possibly do something this horrible." Starkweather shrugged. "Sorry, minoring in psych," she saved herself.

Mandi glowered at her. "Ghosts ARE real and the stories of Devil's Hollow ARE true!!!" she snapped. "Last fall, my now ex-boyfriend and I went out there to... you know... well, I mean I had a roommate, he had a roommate, we had no money for a room so... anyway, we drove down to Devil's Hollow and our car was fucking attacked! Some thing in a black robe hit the hood of the car with something... there was a big ass dent in the hood when we got back to Rose Hill."

"Mandi," Cera drawled, her arm draped over the gorgeous boy lying next to her, "you are full of shit, like Jeri down there said." "I didn't say Mandi was full of shit," Starkweather said pleasantly. "I said 'bullshit' as in the story Mandi heard about may have been 'bullshit' not that Mandi herself is full of shit."

"You all think I'm full of shit?" Mandi challenged them.

<<Uh-oh>> Starkweather thought.

"Then why don't you all come WITH me to Devil's Hollow and find out for yourselves?"

"Tonight?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes clouded over with hurt pride and Bud Light. "Right now, let's go." she jumped off the loft.

"I'm in," Cera also clambered down. "Who's in? Jeri?"

"Well..." Starkweather debated. If something went down, her cover could be completely blown, but if something went down, she couldn't live with herself if those kids got hurt or worse, but she REALLY didn't like going down with them without letting Doggett know what was up. "I don't know..."

"Come on Jeri," Mandi taunted her. "You're the one making out to be all big and bad like you're a fucking cop or something..." <<If only you knew, sweetheart>> Starkweather thought while Mandi continued, "... if scary stories don't scare you, if working at a haunted station don't scare you... maybe the real thing WILL."

Bill cuddled her closer. "I'll come with," he said. "Don't worry," he said confidently. "I won't let anything happen to you."

<<I could take you out with my pinkie, buster>> she thought while saying. "Thanks." "Let's go!" Tori bounced out of Bob's lap. The party filed out of the room and down the hall to the stairs.

Heart thudding, Starkweather followed, reaching for her cell phone, started dialing.

"Who are you calling?" Cera asked when she heard the beep of the cell phone.

"My brother Johnny," Starkweather lied flawlessly. "He gets a charge outta shit like this, plus, if we do get mutilated ala "I Know What You Did Last Summer", at least someone will know where to look for our rotting corpses."

"Oh Christ, do you think anything's going to happen?" A tinge of panic colored Cera's voice. "No," Starkweather lied. "I did have to talk to him anyway." **C'mon, Doggett, answer, pick up, pickuppickuppickuppickup!!!!!!** she thought frantically.

"John Doggett."

"Hey, Johnny, it's Jeri, what's goin' on?"

"Doc, what's going on with you? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I know and I'm sorry but I almost forgot to tell you that I can't come home this weekend." 'Can't come home this weekend' was the code-phrase Starkweather and Doggett had worked out to use in case Starkweather found herself in a tight situation where she felt she needed backup but wasn't in a position to say so out loud.

"Talk to me Doc."

"Yeah, I might just stay put on campus, hang out, you know. Oh, check this out, right now we're going to an old Indian burial ground. Yeah, for real, it's like right behind some religious retreat called Trinity Heights on Highway 75. It's called 'Devil's Hollow' da-da-dum!!!" she said with a sarcastic flourish, hoping that her partner could read between the lines. "The cool thing is that it's only a mile or so away from the station I'm working at, how cool is that?" she clambered into the backseat of Bob's car, squished against the window and Bill.

As usual, Doggett was on the same wavelength as his partner. "I'm in the brown Sedan in the upper parking lot, doing first watch on your surveillance. I see you in the in blue Neon. Stay cool, Starkweather, I'm watching for you." Doggett hung up.

<<I'm counting on that>> Starkweather thought, stomach in knots as Bob, who really was not sober enough to be driving, pulled out of the parking lot and cruised out to trespass on private property, completely unaware they had one federal agent on their tail and another in his backseat. <<Don'tlikethisdon'tlikethisdon'tlikethis>> she wildly thought. The needle on her trouble-meter completely in the red. Devil's Hollow Sioux City, Iowa 12:59 AM

The little Neon hummed along the dark highway. Starkweather looked up at the massive hills and could barely make out the top of the Virgin Mary's head peeking out above the trees. She summoned every ounce of self control and discipline she possess NOT to turn around to make sure Doggett was still behind them.

A converted Catholic because of convenience of marriage but not by faith, Starkweather tried to remember the prayer to the Blessed Mother that the Catholics used. All she could remember was the beginning, and that was because it was also used as a football play, she was embarrassed to admit. <<Hail Mary....>> she started to herself, but stalled.

Along the side of the road, there was a side pointing up towards Trinity Heights. Bill took the turn and his car ambled up along the steep driveway to the religious retreat. Starkweather squeezed her legs together tight, just for the sheer relief of feeling her sleek little Beretta strapped to her ankle. At the fork in the driveway, Bob did not take the high road, which would have brought them sanctuary. He took the low road, ostentatiously pointing out the big sign that said "PRIVATE PROPERTY: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED"

Doggett saw the little car make the turn, slowed his car down, parked, took the safety off of his gun and got out of his car. He pulled the walkie-talkie off of his belt and clicked the speaker button "They're heading off to Devil's Hollow. I'm pursuing on foot," he instructed the Sioux City PD. "Make no moves unless directed by me." Doggett had a feeling the kids were taking Starkweather on a snipe hunt so if all possible, he wanted to make sure that Starkweather's cover was not blown if at all possible. But on the other side, acting on his "old-school" NYPD Blue instincts, there was something not right about this. Even stoical, snotty, skeptical Starkweather sensed this, he heard it in her voice.

He started running up the graveled driveway, following the taillights.

The car ambled down the road into a small clearing. Bob killed the engine and the lights. The college kids and Starkweather ambled out of the car. By instinct, the kids along for the ride, Bill, Bob, Mandi, Tori, Cera and the boy Cera and Mandi were fighting over, Seth, all huddled together. Starkweather leaned against the car, reaching through Bob's open window to turn on the headlights. "Jesus, what're you doing THAT for??" Bob snapped.

"So we can see them but they can't see us," Starkweather said, thoroughly bored. <<Maybe I was overreacting>> she mused. "There's nothing here Mandi," Cera snapped. "We didn't go in far enough," Mandi retorted like a fifth grader. "If we start walking that way," she pointed towards a grove of trees. "I bet you anything we'll see something..."

"I thought the monsters came while you were doin' it in the car," Cera taunted her. <<Jesus Christ>> Starkweather thought tiredly. "Look," now she was the one snapping. "I'm hot, I'm tired, this has been really fantastic, really, it's been great, but I'm not impressed, I have to be at the radio station at ten tomorrow, let's GO HOME."

"Gawd, relax," Tori rolled her eyes, disappointed that her new roomie could be so uncool. "You sound like an old woman."

<<I AM an old woman!!! I'm twenty-freakin'-eight you little bitch!!!!** Starkweather inwardly screamed. "Alright, alright, Mandi, Cera, if this f*cking p*ssing contest is so damn important to you," she snarled, shaming both girls into silence, "then let's take a fucking walk in the woods and play Blair Witch Project, alright? Bob," she turned to him authoritatively, aware that her true stripes were showing but not really caring at this point, "do you have a flashlight?"

"Sure, in the trunk," Bob walked around her and reached into his car to turn his vehicle off and to take the keys out of the ignition. When the lights killed, Cera squealed, a squeak of fear. Bob popped the trunk and pulled out his Magna Light. He clicked it on, "Well, come on guys," he said as he started walking across the clearing towards the trees. The girls, Bill and Seth followed Bob obediently with Starkweather trailing, rolling her eyes skyward. <<God, I'm here with the Scooby Doo Gang>> she bemoaned herself <<surrounded by Daphnes.>>

But whether it was something in the air or the absence of sound make Starkweather slip out of her comedienne mode and into G-woman mode. Bob was shining his light hither and yon as they got closer to the trees. "Is that a house over there?" Cera asked, pointed to a building in the not to distant distance. "Somebody lives here?"

Despite Cera's blathering, Starkweather heard a suspicious noise. "Shh," she said suddenly.

"What?" Tori asked irritably.

"Shut up," Starkweather said insistently. "Stay still, all of you," she took the flashlight from Bob and shined it expertly into the trees, towards the noise she heard. "Did you hear that or am I hallucinating?"

"Hear what?" Cera asked, voice shaking.

"Twigs," Starkweather said breathlessly. "Snapping twigs... like some one out walking..."

From the trees, bathed in Starkweather's light, a tall figure cloaked in black robes leapt forth:

"YAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!" It howled, swinging a club.

The girls screamed and fled. The boys screamed like the girls and fled as well.

Doggett, less than thirty feet away heard the screams and ran towards them.

Starkweather held her ground.

The robed man yelled again like an Indian from a really bad John Wayne movie and swung his club at her. Starkweather easily ducked; then slammed the flashlight into his knees, brutally clotheslining him. She could hear Doggett hollering her name. She also heard the lens of the light breaking against the stranger's knees, but that didn't matter for he went down like a sack of flour, which gave her enough time to crouch down and get her gun out of it's ankle holster. He was had started to get up just as she took the safety off and shouted out: "FREEZE, FEDERAL AGENT, KEEP YOUR ASS DOWN AND GET YOUR GOD DAMNED HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM. NOW!!!!!!!"

Doggett had nearly gotten run over by the college kids fleeing in Bob's car. When the dust cleared, he pulled his flashlight out and shined it into the abyss.

"STARKWEATHER???" he hollered.

Then he heard "FREEZE, FEDERAL AGENT, KEEP YOUR ASS DOWN AND GET YOUR GOD DAMNED HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM. NOW!!!!!!!" He slowed his run to a jog.

"You okay?" he asked when he reached her, drawing his gun, pointing it at the cowering whimpering man.

"Never better," Starkweather safetied her weapon and stuffed it into her waistband of her jeans. She picked up Bob's flashlight, shined it onto the robed man's hooded face. "Keep your fucking hands where I can see them, buddy," she hissed as she reached to rip away the hood. "Oh my God," she said with a groan. "I took out Mister Rogers."

An older man with a sweet face and silver hair, sat on the ground, shivering in terror. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I was just trying to scare those darn kids. I didn't know you were a federal agent."

"Well what do you think I LOOK like!!" she exploded shrilly. Before anyone could open their mouths, Starkweather said "Don't answer that."

Doggett shined his flashlight on his partner. "Holy shit," he said before he could stop himself.

"Shut up," Starkweather mumbled.

"George???" A feminine, elderly voice shouted from the building that Cera asked was a house. Suddenly, floodlights switched on and Doggett and Starkweather then realized that Devil's Hollow was someone's acreage farm. "George?" his wife hollered from the porch. "What's going on??" Doggett safetied and holstered his gun and held his hand out towards George. "Come on," he coaxed him. "We'll get you fixed up," he promised him. "She's a doctor."

George looked Starkweather. "Oh Lord have mercy."

"Oh Jesus Christ," Starkweather swore as she followed Doggett and George towards the farmhouse.

Doggett pulled out his walkie talkie and informed the SCPD as he assisted the limping George inside. "All units, this is Agent Doggett, false alarm, repeat, false alarm.....

George and Beverlee McCoy's home Behind Trinity Heights Sioux City, Iowa 1:37 AM

In her cozy, countrified kitchen, Mrs. McCoy served Doggett a big glass of iced tea with enormous slices of fresh lemon bobbing along with the ice cubes. At this point, Doggett would have preferred a beer, but he opted for polite. Meanwhile, Starkweather wound another ACE bandage around Mr. McCoy's other knee. "There you go sir," she said. "Stay off your feet for about a week, the swelling should go down by then. If it feels really tender, soak in a tub of Epsom salts." She rose from the floor and wrote a phone number down. "If the pain intensifies, call this number. Federal agents will come and escort you to a secured hospital in Omaha, Nebraska, on Uncle Sam's dime. But I think you'll be alright. You're a lucky man, Mr. McCoy," Starkweather sat down and accepted a glass of iced tea from Mrs. McCoy. "I could have broken both your knee caps easily." There was no hint of bragging in her voice, just plain cold hard fact.

"Oh, I told George he's far too old to be dressing up, but goodness knows, it's the only way we can keep those darn kids off our lands. Cookie?" She held a plate, heaped with sugar cookies, made from scratch, in front of the agents. Starkweather and Doggett smiled politely and took one to be nice. Neither one had a sweet tooth, but both felt extraordinarily guilty about what had just happened twenty minutes ago. Her hostess duties finished for now, Mrs. McCoy sat down and poured herself a glass of homemade raspberry iced tea, which Doggett and Starkweather had to admit, was very good. "Oh those rotten kids have been coming onto our land since the Seventies, tearing up our yard with their cars, necking, smoking reefer, doing goodness only knows," she seethed in her sweet Grandma voice. "George here got the idea that if he dressed up like a spook, he could scare those kids off. For the most part, it works. We've been scaring them for nearly fifteen years now," she said proudly. "You're the first one that fought back," she said admiringly. "I like to sit on the porch and watch them drive off."

Doggett asked, "Do you have any troubles with the radio station nearby?"

"Oh, goodness, no." She said brightly. "We love 101.3!It's our favorite station, isn't it George?"

"Yes, dear," George said.

"In fact, as soon as we get back, we switch it on in our car first thing!"

"Back from where ma'am?" Starkweather said.

"Back from Minnesota," Mrs. McCoy said, getting up to refill glasses. "We spent the summers up by the lakes in Minnesota and winters down in Texas. We're actually only here a few months out of the year. But it's nice to keep the house here. The kids like to come for the holidays. Christmas. Easter. I must apologize for the condition of our house, we just got home from Minnesota yesterday."

"My husband is from Minneapolis, do you stay near there?" Starkweather asked innocently.

"Um... it's two and half hours away, on a small lake outside of Alexandria on a summer resort call Sun Valley," Mrs. McCoy said brightly. "Do you and your husband go up to Minnesota often?"

A strange pained look crossed Starkweather's face. "Not often....

"Oh, why not?" Mrs. McCoy asked innocently.

"No time," Starkweather lied, fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Doggett looked closer to her and saw her wedding ring dangling from the chain. He frowned.

"That's too bad, Minnesota is a wonderful place. We're going back next weekend but we had to come home for our brand new baby granddaughter's christening. She's the first girl in the McCoy family for three generations..."

The agents visited for a bit more, then took their leave. They walked up the drive, towards Doggett's car in silence until he asked, "Do you think your cover's blown." "No," she said. "They were too busying peeing themselves to notice me."

"Why didn't you run away?"

She shrugged. "Not my job to run away."

"Whaddya think about the McCoys?"

"I have a sinking suspicion that their stories are going to check out. They're so clean, they squeak."

"I agree." Doggett and Starkweather walked a bit further before he launched into a touchy subject. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, pissed, but fine."

"I just know that the last few months have been hell for you," he said slowly. "Your life hasn't exactly easy for you since you joined the X-Files. I know this job has wreaked hell on your personal life, your marriage."

"My marriage was in havoc before I moved to DC, Papa John," she said sadly, smiling a little, to reassure him. "That's not anybody's fault but Ben and mine."

"I mean no disrespect to you, Doc, you know that," Doggett said gravely, stopping in his tracks. Starkweather looked over her shoulder, her wildly curled and braided hair blowing in the hot summer breeze. In her Britney Spears rip-off outfit, she sauntered back to him. "You can talk the talk all you wanna," he said, "but I know you and I know what's happened to you and Ben last month is still tearing you apart," Starkweather looked away from her friend's face and stared at the ground. "But I need you here, I need you focused, I need you to cowboy up. If you can't do that, Doc, there's no shame in calling it quits right now and takin' some time. I'd understand, Skinner'd understand, Scully'd understand. It's okay if you're not up to this and you need to get away."

"I'm up to this," Starkweather said evenly, raising her head so her determined hazel eyes meeting his concerned blue eyes. "Time is my enemy right now. I want to be here. Now."

"Then you gotta take your wedding band off," Doggett said gently. "I know you wanna feel Ben close, but what if someone notices it. How is a college senior going to explain a diamond solitaire on a gold chain? A ring no starving college student could realistically afford." He saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "Starkweather, I'm sorry..."

"No, you're right," she said quietly. "It was stupid of me to try and hide it. It could have provoked questions I don't want to answer. You take it, Doggett, and keep it until the fat lady sings, okay?" She tried to smile again as she fought tears. Doggett reached around her, felt her soft hair tickle his hands and wrists as he undid the clasp and took the necklace off of her. Starkweather squeezed her hands tightly together to stop herself from lunging at Doggett and snatching her ring back from him. Doggett put the chain around his neck and tucked underneath his black T-shirt. "It's right here, Starkweather," he said, patting his chest. "I won't let anything happen to it."

"I'm counting on that," Starkweather said, freed of tears. "Come on, we gotta think of a good cover story for when I get back to those twits up at Rose Hill. I shudder to think that I could have possibly been that stupid when I was twenty."

"I'm hoping," Doggett couldn't resist, he tried to stifle his laughter, but couldn't. "I'm hoping you at least had better fashion sense, Doc."

"Oh, oh, FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK you man!!!" Starkweather began to laugh.

"I bet Mulder would love a picture of you right now." "Oh, don't even!" Starkweather groaned loudly and walked ahead of him.

They were just about to the car when Doggett, still in a rare playful mood, began singing under his breath "'Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game, ooh, baby, baby...'"

Starkweather wheeled around and ran for him, tackling him. Doggett landed on his posterior but was still able to flip Starkweather over him good-naturedly. Starkweather tumbled into the dirt along the side of the deserted road. She sat up, giggling. "I swear to God, I'm gonna get all of you for this," she promised as Doggett helped her up....

Rose Hill College 2:59 AM Tori, Mandi, Cera, Bob, Bill and Seth had spent the last hour or so in Tori's room, arguing about the disappearance of Jeri. "Well, should we call the police?" Mandi shrilled, panicking completely.

"I think we have to wait 24 hours before we can call for a missing person," Cera said, biting her nails. "I can't believe you left her back there!!" she shrieked at Bob.

"I thought she was in the car!!!" Bob whined. "I wouldn't have left her on purpose!!!"

"Omigod, omigod, she's dead, she's dead," Mandi sobbed hysterically.

"Should we go back for her???" Bill's face was ashen.

Just then the door was thrown open. The girl they knew as Jeri O'Brien glared at each of them from the doorway. "Jeri?" Tori bolted up. "Oh my God, what the FUCK happened? Are you alright??" Starkweather walked up and improvised a little in the scene she and Doggett concocted on their car ride back to the dorms. She walked straight up to Bob and punched him in the face. "Thanks for leaving me there, cocksucker!" she snapped, feeling no sympathy as blood began to seep from his nose.

"Baby!" Tori squealed as she ripped Kleenex out of the box and frantically handed them to Bob to shove up his gushing nose. "Jeri, what the FUCK??" she repeated, angrily this time.

"That was no monster!!!" Starkweather snapped. "That was an undercover cop, looking to bust people for messing around on private property and you all left me there with my ass hanging out!" She glared at each useless waste of life, as far as she was concerned. "I spent the last hour at the cop shop. Fortunately, they decided that I was so fucking pitiful because I got ditched, that they aren't going to press charges. Thanks to you all, I have five, maybe six hours of sleep before my first day on my internship. Thanks a lot guys. Now, everybody - GET OUT!!!" she raged.

Everyone, including Tori, fled. Starkweather heaved a big sigh of relief. She looked around the room for a safe place for her gun and badge. She looked at her hamper and said "Ewww..." but she shrugged. She was pretty sure Tori wouldn't dig in her dirty clothes. Starkweather locked the door and stripped to bra and panties. It was too hot, even with the windows wide open, to wear anything more. She opened her sock drawer and pulled out a sweat sock. She sat on her bed, took the clip out of her gun, put the clip, the gun, and her badge in the sweat sock. Then, she stripped off her panties and wadded it around the sweat sock. She gently placed the camouflaged weapons and identifications into the hamper. Before throwing her dirty jeans and Tori's shirt in, she got a pair of clean underwear and slipped them on. Exhausted, she set her alarm clock, shut off the light and collapsed into bed.

Carolina Sounder, traffic director, was just wrapping up the tour for her new intern. "And that's it," she said brightly. "What do you think? Overwhelmed yet?"

Jerilyn Starkweather smiled dazedly. Actually she had only gotten four hours of sleep, her body, despite her aching brain screaming at it that she wanted to sleep longer, snapped awake at its usual ungodly hour of five-thirty. "Oh," she said, trying to sound coherent. "Wow..." was all she could garble out.

The general manager, a big man with a jolly face came through the front door and up the short flight of stairs that lead to the front desk where the receptionist sat and where Carolina and Starkweather stood. "Ted?" Carolina stopped him. "This is our new little intern, Jeri O'Brien."

"Ah," Ted Tiesdale smiled and held out his hand. Starkweather accepted it with a shy smile. "The new girl. From... Creighton, correct?" "Yes sir," she said politely.

"Oh, god, please don't call me sir," he laughed, a booming successful business man's laugh. "Makes me feel old. Carolina, why don't you escort Miss O'Brien to my office. We have some...issues we need to discuss but we have to wait for our guest. Can I get you anything? Coke? Water?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Starkweather replied.

Carolina and Starkweather went into Ted's office, which was completely decorated in golf memorabilia. Carolina and Starkweather made small talk for a little bit and Starkweather found herself warming up to Carolina, who was bright, cheery and chatty, but not obnoxiously so. About fifteen minutes later, Ted came into his office, followed by Special Agent John Doggett. Ted unbuttoned his brown suit jacket and sat down. "Now, Jeri, I don't know if much Sioux City news reaches Omaha, but I am assuming you may have heard stories of... an incident that may have happened here recently?"

"Um..." Starkweather demurred. "Some of the others staying up at Rose Hill had told me a girl was killed? But I wasn't sure..." she gave a half-fearful look to Doggett who looked at her stonily. "If that was true..."

"Well," Ted said, true remorse in his voice. "Unfortunately it is. Her name was Candelauria Gallimore. She was working alone on an overnight shift when... it happened. But we are doing everything possible to find out was happened to her and to ensure the safety of everyone working here. This," he indicated to Doggett. "is Special Agent John Doggett. He came all the way from Washington DC to help with the investigation. I'm told," he said to Doggett, "that you're an expert at these kinds of cases?"

"You could say that," Doggett said gravely. As planned, he turned to Starkweather and extended his hand. "Miss O'Brien, you have my personal reassurance that nothing is going to happen to you during my watch. I understand that you may have an opportunity to be on air?" Carolina answered for Starkweather "Normally we start our interns on the Sunday morning suicide shift on the AM station, monitoring the live church services and reporting the weather, but... with the loss of Candelauria... well, we need a weekender on-air personality."

"Why?" Starkweather forced herself to ask timidly. "Well... most of our part timers got scared off," Ted admitted reluctantly. "It's a great opportunity for you though," he went on, typical salesman mentality, trying to put a good spin on a bad situation. "And this part of your internship will be paid. We'll start you at six dollars an hour."

<<Cheap bastards>> Starkweather couldn't help thinking while saying enthusiastically "Really?"

"And Special Agent Doggett has generously volunteered to be with you during your shifts," Ted went on. "Are you comfortable with this, because if you're not..."

"Oh no, I'm fine... I mean, I think I'll be okay," Starkweather said. "As long as he's going to be there, it makes me feel better," she nodded her head towards her partner.

"Well good," Ted said cheerfully. "Why don't you go visit Pat, he's our business manager. We'll have you fill out some paperwork and you can call it a day. But we expect you back here tomorrow morning at eight AM. We'll start you in the business office and we have a promotions meeting at ten which I think would be very beneficial to you, don't you Carolina?"

"Absolutely," Carolina chirruped. "We'll make her a well rounded little intern."

<<Yippee skippee>> Starkweather thought while Doggett excused himself to use the restroom. "Mr. Tiesdale, if you don't mind, if you have time, I would like to ask you a few questions after the ladies leave." "Absolutely," Ted said. "It would have to be quick, I have a meeting at eleven-thirty...."

Carolina and Starkweather took their leave.

Starkweather had just clamored into her car when her cell phone beeped, alerting her to a message. She pulled out her phone and saw the text message that Doggett had frantically typed while he was in the john:

"Doc- Nice acting TLG called, got zip. Still looking. Call M&S later Call me 2300."

Starkweather sent him a text message back: "Yes dad"

Meanwhile Scully's apartment Georgetown 11:10 AM Eastern time

Burdened down with her briefcase and grocery sacks, Special Agent Monica Reyes awkwardly rang Scully's doorbell. Scully, still in her pajamas, flung open the door, looking frazzled. Reyes could hear the baby wailing the background. "Rough couple of days, huh?" Reyes asked sympathetically.

Scully took the groceries from Reyes. "What do I owe for this?" "Don't worry about it, you helped me plenty when I had my little mishap," Reyes said in her deep alto singsong voice. "I have the files and I'm taking a long lunch, so I'll let you and Fox flip through while I throw together a lunch and take Will off your hands for you."

"Sccccccccccuuuuuuuullly????" Mulder whined from within. Scully, through gritted teeth, said her mantra out loud: "It's a miracle he's alive, I'm happy he's here."

Reyes let herself inside, carrying the files to Mulder, who was fussing with Will in the living room. "Good morning Fox, I brought your files, can I hel-" she started to say before she started snickering at the potholders still duct taped to his hands. Mulder cuddled the itchy, whiny baby to his bare chicken poxed chest and scowled ferociously at Reyes who deteriorated into belly-aching laughter.

Scully popped her head out of the kitchen door. "What's so funny?" Reyes, helpless with giggles, pointed at Mulder's potholders while Mulder still smiled angelically, rocking a snuffling Will.

"Oh," Scully said, disinterested, went back to putting the food away that Reyes so generously bought.

"Fox," Reyes said seriously while still wiping away tears of mirth out of her eyes. "Have you tried visualization to take you mind off the itching?"

"Visualization?" Mulder said, unconsciously aping Scully's sarcastic skeptical tones.

"When the itching starts to get to you, close your eyes, visualize and focus on something else, a pleasant scenario, a comforting thought, a secret fantasy...."

Mulder did close his eyes, and smiled beatifically. "Hey..." he said "it's working... I'm visualizing duct tape over your mouth..."

"MULDER!" Scully snapped...

While Scully was making another unsuccessful attempt to lay Will down for a nap, Mulder reviewed the last X-Files case that took place in Sioux City for Reyes: "Back in October of ninety-three, Agent Scully and I were sent out to Sioux City to investigate the disappearance of a teenaged girl named Ruby. She vanished from a camping trip at Lake Okoboji with her mother and young brother named Kevin. The case heated up when we discovered what we thought were just the boy's drawings were really sketches of binary transmissions, which the boy claims, came to him from the television. Some thought it was from a defense satellite... others think otherwise..."

"Ah..." Reyes nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "What happened with the case? Was there any resolution? What happened to that family? To the girl?"

Mulder sighed. "Well, Ruby was found unconscious in a nearby woods. Her body exhibited signs of being weightless for an extended amount of time. Beyond that..." Mulder shrugged "We don't know... the mother took Kevin and Ruby and disappeared."

"Abducted?"

"We don't know. The mother took them and... poof..."

"Do you think that case is connected to what happened at the radio station?"

"According to the evidence so far, no, but I'm not leaving any stone un-turned," Mulder tried to open the thick file folder but it slipped from his potholdered hands and sheaves of paper fluttered everywhere. "Oh damn," he muttered. He leaned against Scully's couch and closed his eyes.

"What is it Fox?" Reyes asked. "I'm trying that visualization technique you suggested for the itching," Mulder said pleasantly. "I'm visualizing you taking these damn things," he held up his hands "off of me."

Reyes smiled.

The phone rang.

Scully cuddled Will as she rocked him to sleep. His lovely blue eyes, a gift from his mother, had finally closed when the phone rang. Will's eyes flew open and his little pouty lip began to quiver.

"Ohhhhh, shit," Scully muttered as she rose to answer the phone. "Hello?" she answered irritably as Will began to whimper, not understanding why he was still so itchy and why Mommy was so crabby. "Scully? It's me."

Scully had to smile just a little. The tiny unconscious similarities between Starkweather and Mulder amused her, especially when those filial nuances were pointed out to them. Mulder would just roll his eyes and sigh while Starkweather would curse solidly. "Is your line secure?" Scully asked as she tucked her cordless phone between her chin and shoulder and began to pace about in her bedroom, shifting Will's weight in her arms.

"As secure as it gets with me, myself and my cell phone alone in my POS car," Starkweather said as she cruised down Hamilton Avenue, wiping sweat out of her eyes, as the air conditioning decided to break in her car this morning. "Doggett said to give you a buzz."

"Hold on, let me put you on speaker," Scully said, now realizing that Will's morning nap was not going to happen today. "Mulder and Reyes are here."

Starkweather rolled her eyes at the mention of Mulder's name. Although he was growing on her, the man somehow, almost preternaturally knew how to push her buttons.

"Hi Hurricane!" Mulder said brightly when Scully put the speakerphone on.

"Bite me," was the pleasant comeback. "What have you found so far?" Scully asked, still pacing with Will in her arms as Reyes took copious notes and Mulder listened intently, his hazel eyes shining with the lust of the chase...

About twenty minutes later.....

Starkweather told Mulder, Scully and Reyes about her adventures in Sioux City thus far. Starting with Preston the officious RA, to Barry the lovesick librarian's aid, to the Barbie Girl Posse, the bust at Devil's Hollow and her "interview" at the radio station, interrupted briefly as she drove through a Burger King. "So far, I've got squat." Starkweather said, chomping on fries as she sat in her car at the Burger King parking lot, one foot hanging out of the car window, a greasy bag containing a Big King, no tomatoes and a double order of fries in her lap. "Please tell me you guys are having better luck."

"I wish we could," Scully groaned. "The Des Moines field office emailed me the lab reports from the autopsy. Toxicology was clean except for traces of nicotine. No drugs, illegal or otherwise in her system, no alcohol... nothing."

"Poop," Starkweather said, a mild expletive for her. "Any chance we can get Quantico to order the body for re- examination here?"

"I tried," Scully said. "The body is being released tomorrow for burial."

"Goddamn it," she said. "I wish we could have gotten into town sooner so I could have poked and prodded at the body. What about forensics? Fibers, bodily fluids, fingerprints, anything???"

"If there was any, the pink slime destroyed any other physical evidence that could have been on that body."

"Okay, okay, wait a minute, the pink slime IS evidence? Did the crackerjacks at Quantico figure out what the hell it is?"

"I got the preliminary reports but they're still working on it," Reyes spoke up. "So far, to give you the Reader's Digest Version, with the obvious exception of the translucent pinkish color, they say holds all the same properties of mucus."

Starkweather nearly choked on the Coke slushie she was sucking down. "Snot?" Starkweather said incredulously. "you are kidding me."

"Wish I was," Reyes said.

"On the bright side," Scully jumped back in, "if it is human mucus that means we've got the killer's DNA." "Oh, great," Starkweather said. "What am I supposed to do, go find everyone in this smelly town who has a cold to blow their nose for me??? Besides," she said, unbuttoning two buttons of her sweat-drenched blouse, "Look how much there was. It covered the girl and then some. That's alot of snot to save. Of course," she mused, "we are in a more ruralized setting... could it be possible that it's animal mucus? Horse... cattle maybe? If the killer lives on a farm, a huge livestock operation, he could realistically save enough snot in a year to cover a small female."

"I'll have the guys at Quantico check it out," Scully said.

"What about that old Sioux City case from ninety-three? Any connections?" Starkweather asked.

"We've just started," Reyes said, "on the surface, it doesn't seem to be connected but we're going to fine-tooth- comb it anyway."

"Deputy Mayor," Starkweather said. "You're awfully quiet. Any insight Obi-Wan?"

Mulder's eyebrows knit in concentration. He wished, REALLY wished he could be there. "I think... Reyes is right. I don't see any connection to this murder and the disappearance and reappearance of Ruby."

"You're agreeing with me?" Reyes was almost speechless. Over the phone, Starkweather quipped. "Wow, it started snowing here in hell." Although they had never talked at great length together, Starkweather had hear enough about the catfights between "Spooky" and "that pushy bitch." "Agents," Scully said, despite Mulder's separation from the Bureau. "Please, can we continue?"

"From your description of Barry, I don't think he's as close to the victim as he'd like you to believe. I think he knew her on a casual basis and the victim took advantage of his desperation for female contact and willingness to please to score free dope off of him. You're not going to get any useful information from him. You're going to have to become close to someone else." Mulder nibbled on Scully's potholder, which was beginning to look frayed. "If it's snowing in hell now, Starkweather, you're about to see a blizzard because I think Reyes is right on another point." He looked at the photographs lined up neatly on the floor, pictures of all the murder victims, lined up in chronological order. "The killer is trying to send out a message. Even though the girls were killed in different parts of the building, they were all found, laying prone on the ground, spread eagled, or as spread eagled as they could get as two of the victims, including the current victim, Candelauria Gallimore, were found in the disc jockey's seat, all were covered with pink goo, all died not from the pink goo-"

"But from strangulation," Starkweather interupted.

"No." Mulder said. "Pictures can deceive. Topical exams can deceive. All died from choking. The difference between choking and strangulation is slight, but a difference nevertheless. Gallimore was the only one found with the headset around her throat. All the other girls choked on their own blood and vomit. I believe if we can get on the phone with the ghouls in Sioux City that if they open her mouth and take a quick peek, they will see that she did not die via a cord around her neck, but by the blood and vomit in her throat." "Jiminy Christmas," Starkweather said. "If what you said is right, if those girls died from choking on their own blood and puke instead of someone else cutting off their air supply... what the hell is going on in there?"

Reyes suddenly went pale. "Agent Starkweather, we've never been formerly introduced but I'm Special Agent Monica Reyes. Can you do me a favor?"

"Okay... sure...."

"The next time you are at the station, take something from there and send it to me."

"Take something? Like what?"

"It doesn't matter. A pen, pencil, something that has definitely been lingering there for a while. I don't know if Dana, Fox or John told you, but I have the ability to sense things..." "Uh-huh."

"I'm feeling something, faintly, but I'm thinking I can feel it stronger if I touch something from the station."

"You're an empath." Starkweather said suddenly.

"What?" Scully asked

"It's an unconfirmed psychic phenomenon. Most human beings have the ability to feel empathy for their fellow man, understanding the emotions the other person is experiencing, walking in another man's moccasins, blah blah blah. However, although it hasn't been proven, an empath takes it one step further. They can actually FEEL whatever emotion another person, have the same physical and psychological reactions to whatever another person is having while maintaining their own reactions and conclusion. Some people can even take it a step further than that... feeling the emotion presence of another being without the person or people are even there or who had passed through there in the past. It's based on that whole theory of the mind telling the body to produce certain scents called phermones and that we still have enough of the animal in us to smell a phermone and react accordingly. An empath is more in tune to the left behind phermones... so they say." Starkweather lectured. "or there's the other theory that the human mind produces enough electrical energy, commonly referred to by the layman as an "aura" which fluctuates with concurring moods and the empath can feel the aftershocks of that electrical fluctuation even when the person is gone where the average mind can not."

"I'm impressed," Mulder said.

"You should be," Starkweather said. "It was from one of your old papers from Oxford. I'm not sure if I believe that... but I'm willing to test the hypothesis. I'll send something as soon as I can... should I send it to the office at J. Edgar or should I send it to your home?"

"Um," Reyes said. "Send it to my home."

"Alright, well, I have nothing useful to offer and my phone battery is dying so I'm going to go back to the Animal House and see what kind of havoc I can wreak."

"Be careful," Scully lectured.

"Yes Mom," Starkweather said cheerfully as she hung up.

"I'm going to leave you now," Reyes said, collecting her notes. "I have a little research I need to do, but do you mind me stopping back later on tonight?"

"What kind of research?" Mulder asked. Monica Reyes hesitated. She had heard of the legend of Special Agent Fox Mulder before she even met him. Ever since she had accidentally stumbled across some of his old case reports when he worked in the Violent Crimes division (VICAP) and heard about his mythic adventures once he discovered the X-Files, she had admired his career from afar while busily pursuing her own. His quest for the truth inspired her to stop hiding her "gift" and to be herself, which, so far, hadn't harmed or hampered her career or personal life. He didn't know this though. She saw him "dead" before she even got to know him, to tell him. And once he made his "resurrection", she had boldly approached him to help her find resolution for the death of her friend John Doggett's son. At the time, Doggett and Mulder were bitter enemies. Her timing, for once, had been off and she found herself undeservedly on Mulder's shit list. Which didn't bother her because she had also heard about his nearly famous cutting tongue and almost world-renowned arrogance. What bothered her was that he didn't take her work seriously. Which pissed her off. After all, who had just spent ten years of his life chasing little green men?

She privately wondered how Scully tolerated him.

"Just going to work on a hunch, nothing more," she said pleasantly, voice like silk. "See you tonight."

She knew she was right, she had felt it, faintly, as she listened to Starkweather in Sioux City. It was too far away to feel concretely, so she'd just have to prove it the old fashioned way...

She also had the feeling that Starkweather was going to discover the same thing she was going to...

Starkweather slammed the car door shut, then slammed it again, for it didn't shut the first time. She wandered around to the other side and opened the other door to get the sack of groceries out along with her backpack. To her dismay, she discovered that the cafeteria was shut down during the summer so the summer residents had to fend for themselves. Which sucked. Tori didn't have a fridge or microwave, so Starkweather stocked up on bread, peanut butter, granola bars, crackers and chips.

Speaking of Tori, she along with her "Barbie Posse" were lounging on the small brick wall jutting out from the building, lining the end of the cement wheelchair ramp before it sharply angled towards the front door. "Hi, Jeri," Tori said nervously, still shaken up by her new roommater after last night's events. "How was your interview?" "Okay, it went okay... look, I'm sorry I flipped out last night-"

The trio began to gush: "Oh, god, don't!" "Honey, it was our bad, we left you!" "I would have done the same thing, don't you even worry about it!"

While the elitist cliche made their double talk and false fronts, a lanky girl with too darkly dyed black hair sailed out of the front door. She didn't look at the girls sitting on the wall. She didn't look at Starkweather standing next to the wheelchair ramp, leaning on the rail, but, as she sailed down the wheelchair ramp on her rollerblades, she caught a small fistful of Starkweather's long hair and yanked a tuft out, causing Starkweather to drop her bag and yelp out: "OW!" She whipped her head around, rubbing where the hair had been pulled out... "You bitch..." Meanwhile... The X-Files Office 4:33 PM Eastern Time

Reyes, sitting at Starkweather's desk, was using her computer to surf the Internet. Reaching for a pen out of a black mug with the mascot from Starkweather's old Air National Guard Base airbrushed on (a hideous red snake) Reyes accidentally knocked over a small framed candid shot from her wedding. "Oops," she said and as she touched the frame to set it up right, a sharp pain pricked the base of her skull, as if someone had pulled strands of her hair out. She let go of the picture frame and rubbed gently her scalp. <<What the hell?>> She touched her head again, then touched Starkweather's picture. "Oh God," she whispered, horrified. She bolted for the file cabinet and started to dig...

Sometimes Monica's gift scared her....

Back at Rose Hill...

"You fucking freak!!!" Tori yelled lustily as the girl skated away. "That's Autumn Chamberlain," Tori snarled. "She's fucking weird..." Starkweather, still rubbing the base of her skull, turned to watch the girl skate further and further. <<Another reason why I wear my hair back>> Starkweather sighed to herself, who, under Scully's advice, had worn her long hair loosely to enhance her youthful facade. <<So sicky chickies don't pull it out. What kind of voodoo hoodoo horsesh*t is going on????>> Starkweather suddenly wanted to get out of this town as fast as she could, but duty held her there. Rose Hill College 7:24 PM Autumn Chamberlain, hot, dirty and sweaty wheeled through the halls on her rollerblades until she came to her room where she screeched to a stop, leaving black skid marks on the dirty linoleum. She unlocked the door to her private room and let herself it.

The room itself was tiny and unbearably hot. There was room enough for a closet, a bed a dresser, and a desk, which was built into the room. Autumn, who had been in this room since the beginning of her freshman year, had made it as comfortable as possible. By putting her bed up on a fairly high loft and having bean bags and large pillows underneath it, along with a mini-fridge with a small microwave sitting on top of the fridge. The dresser, she had shoved into the closet, making room for another desk, which she had squeezed at the foot of her loft bed. It was not only her working desk, but a footstool up into bed. The desk built into the wall next to the closet, across from her bed she used as shelves for her television, VCR and stereo. Above that desk, was a row of shelves where all of her textbooks and notebooks lived. She used the two drawers of her "shelf desk" as her cupboards for her dishes and snack foods. Her "working" desk had all the supplies for a normal student. Notebooks, pens, pencils, so on and so forth. Her closet had a clothes rack where her nicer clothes hung from. There were two shelves above the clothes rack where she kept all of her winter clothes, coats and shoes plus extra blankets. The medium sized four drawer dresser in her closet, held her socks, underwear, t-shirts, tank tops, shorts and jeans in three of it's drawers. The fourth drawer held her religion.

After spending two solid years in that tiny room, Autumn had done everything within her powers and limited collegiate budget to make that room efficient and comfortable. But she still could not control the heat.

The blinds were shut, as usual and there was a blanket with celestial symbols woven into the black fuzzy fabric covering up the entire window, like a furry curtain. The blanket fluttered in the breeze for, a usual, the window itself was open. A fan sitting, squished into a corner, pushed hot air around.

Autumn locked the door behind her and pulled her Zippo lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to light all the candles in her room. She had quite a few, some she made herself. She was proud of her candle collection. Especially since lit candles were a contraband item in the dorms: fire hazard.

Her translucent face bathed in candle glow, she ducked under her bed and flopped into a beanbag. Crossing her legs, she began to chant softly in a dead language. Ten minutes of meditation had passed before she realized that she was still holding the strands of hair she had ripped out of the new girl's head. Scootching closer to the giant candle burning in front of her, she thoroughly examined the hair. She had grabbed about five good strands. More than enough for a hellish spell though. Autumn observed the length and the color. She snickered a little. "You're not a natural blond, are you?" she said outloud to the hair. "You're not who you say you are, are you Jeri O'Brien." She whispered the last name again. "Jeri... Jeri... that doesn't sound right... what are you up to Jeri O'Brien?" Now clutching the hair tightly in her, focusing on the dyed blonde silken strands, she chanted in whisper over and over, "By the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see, by the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see..." In her mind's eye, she made herself see Jeri as she saw her a few hours ago, in a rumpled, sweat streaked white blouse and crumpled khakis, long hair blowing in the hot breeze. Tighter still, she clutched the hair, "Let me see, let me see..."

Autumn saw Jeri again, only now that glorious mane of hair was yanked severely back in a bun. She was wearing an emerald green blouse and a black suit with creases so razor-sharp, fruit could have been sliced with them. She was standing in the middle of the road, on foot in front of the other. In slow motion, Autumn saw Jeri lift her arms up. She saw the gun in Jeri's hands. She saw Jeri's mouth moving as she was ferociously screaming something. Autumn could not hear what she was saying but she could read her lips: "F... B... I..."

Autumn opened her eyes. She got up, careful not to bump her head. She threw the hair away and went to her closet and opened the bottom drawer where all of her books and tools were kept. She pulled out her journal and pen and by candlelight she wrote:

"They've come, they've come just like I've seen them come in my dreams. They're here to figure out what happened to Candi Gallimore. I found out by accident tonight when I was playing a practical joke on Tori and her bitchy friends. One is here in the dorms, pretending to be one of us. I can feel her presence. She's very strong. In my dreams she has a partner, but I haven't sensed him yet. I am afraid. I am afraid because they are mundane and don't realize what they are getting into. They are dealing with magick taken to a dark place. "

Autumn slammed her journal shut. "I am not going to deal with this shit," she decided aloud. Sometimes her gift scared her. Scully's apartment 8:35 PM, Eastern Standard Time Mulder laid a sleeping Will in his crib. Mulder hovered over the child's bed, awkwardly with his mittened hand stroking the silky strands of baby fine hair for a moment or two. "Poor Boo," he murmured as the baby fidgeted in his sleep. He was heartsick that the little boy was so ill, and completely frustrated that it was out of his hands to do anything. For the first time since the child's birth, he felt the icy hands of fear grip his heart and soul, the fear that plagued Scully ever since she learned of her pregnancy. He whispered his confession to the dozing infant: "I thought I could protect you from anything. But I was thinking like a FBI agent. I was thinking like a profiler. I thought of you like an X-File. I thought I could stop any monster or villian or alien who would try and harm you...

"But I was never thinking like a father. I never thought of the little things that could snatch a child away. A random kidnapper, freak accidents, sickness. You could be taken away from us in one breath and I would be powerless to stop it and I would have to live for the rest of my life knowing there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. How could I look at Scully in the eyes if anything happened to you? How could Scully live without you? She loves you so much, little Will," he whispered on, his voice cracking. "How could I live without you? You know," he continued on, as if the child could understand him. "Your mom never told anyone who your natural father was. Still, to this day, she has never spoken aloud the truth of your paternity. And, I tell you what, kid, it pissed me off. I thought she didn't trust me. I thought all kinds of crazy things. I was lost, I didn't know where I belonged, where I fit in anymore at that time. But... you know what? I don't care anymore. Maybe it is me, maybe it's another man or... God forbid... another species that's your father, but I'm your dad, okay? I'm going to be your dad and I promise you... I'm going to do my best to be a good dad, but I hope you cut me some slack because I've never been a dad before. I've never had someone completely depend on me or mean so much to me before. More than my sister... or sisters I should say..." he said with a grin. Mulder too, had good reason to believe that somehow Starkweather was blood-related somehow -- there were too many physical and personality similarities to deny kinship -- and was led to him for some reason, but for now, that stone had to lay unturned. "... more than my parents, more than your mother even. Do you understand how much you mean to me? How special you are? What you represent to so many people?" He smiled at the sleeping babe. "Maybe someday you will."

He was walking into the living room just as Scully was coming back into the apartment, carrying a big laundry basket full of clean clothers. She padded, barefoot in the living room and put the laundry basket on the floor.

"He's asleep," he told Scully.

Scully heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Itchy. Hot. Other than that, fine." He walked up to Scully and cupped her worn face in his big hands and kissed her forehead. "Scully, I've behaved like a horse's ass for the past few days. I'd nominate you for sainthood, but you have to be dead for five years before the Catholic Church can do anything about it."

"Mulder that was the worst apology you've ever given me."

"What do you want me to do?" he teased "Drop to my knees and kiss your ass?"

"You'd like that too much," but Scully had to smile. "Take your shirt and pants off. I'll put more calamine lotion on."

"Doctor Scully," Mulder said as he pulled off the baggy cotton T-shirt he was wearing, handing it to her, "I think you're using that as an excuse to take my clothes off."

"Shut up Mulder and lay on the floor." "Kinky," he said with a grin and complied after stripping off the sweatpants he had been living in the past few days. "I never pictured you as a dominatrix."

Scully strandled his back and popped open the lid of the calamine lotion. "Now, if that was massage oil, we'd be in business," Mulder said slyly. He yelped as the cold lotion hit his broad back.

"Oh I'm sorry," Scully said, the picture of innocence. "Was that cold?" "You're a cruel woman," he groaned as she gently rubbed the smelly ointment on his back.

"And you are unbearable to be around when you're sick."

"God, Scully," he said, "if we could just figure out what the hell is making me sick all the time. When I got out of the hospital, you even said I was picture of perfect health. I felt great, invincible even. There were no implants found in me or anything like that. It's as if a time bomb went off in my immune system. Even if the investigation Doggett and Reyes are working on with Kersh pans out and that bastard is kicked out of the Bureau, there's no way I can work in the X-Files again, not like this."

"Don't give up on a miracle, Mulder," she said softly.

Mulder started to roll over so Scully sat up a bit. Mulder finished his rollover and sat up, put his hands on her hips. Scully straddled his lap and put her sticky calamined hands around his neck. Still in a completely uncharacteristic sappy mood after his impromptu heart to heart with little William, Mulder smiled and brushed Scully's fiery hair out of her face. "My constant," he admitted tenderly. "My touchstone."

"Mulder, what's gotten into you?" "Not what's gotten into me, who's gotten to me," he went on. "Scully, even when I'm being a total jackass, you've always been there. Even in the beginning, at Belle Fleur, Oregon the first time, even when you didn't like me a whole lot. You stood by me. You kept me honest. Even when I didn't want to listen or believe, you told me the truth."

"So honesty is your turn-on Mulder?"

"Along with candlelit dinners and long walks along the beach," he quipped playfully. "And backrubs with calamine." He kissed her forehead, then her lips.

For the longest time, the two of them just sat there on Scully's living room floor, holding each other as if there was no tomorrow. Scully wrapped her legs around his waist and Mulder clutched her tiny torso like a dying man. He put his unshaven cheek on top of her smooth hair and said "Sorry for all the mushiness. I sounded like a damn Hallmark card."

"It's okay," she said, kissing his throat. "Sometimes a girl needs to hear mushiness once in a while."

"Really?" Mulder said. He began to croon in his execrably bad singing voice: "Near... far... wherever you are... I believe that heart does go on... once more... you open the door... and you're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on..."

"Okay, stop, that's enough." Mulder laughed and kissed her again. And again, and again and the former partners lost themselves in the sacrament of each other...

Until the phone rang.

Scully got up, readjusted her clothing and went to answer before the ringing woke up Will. Mulder groaned. "If it's not the phone, it's the doorbell. If it's not the doorbell, it's an alien. If it's not an alien, it's a bee sting..." he complained.

"Mulder, shut up," she said covering up the mouthpiece...

"Agent Scully, it's Agent Doggett, I'm not disturbin' ya'll, am I?"

"No, Agent Doggett," Scully said.

"Yes, Agent Doggett," Mulder said back.

"Shut up Mulder," Scully said for the third time that night.

"I stumbled across a piece of information that may be pertinent, may not, I don't know... I'm hoping you and Mulder can maybe brainstorm with me for a moment."

Scully put her phone on "speaker" mode. "Can you hear me?" Just then, the doorbell rang. Mulder slipped his sweatpants back on and went to let

Monica Reyes in, holding a very old file, looking frazzled. "Sorry to come so late, Fox... am I disturbing anything?"

"Noooooooooooooooooooo," sarcasm dripped off his tongue, "Come on in, we're having an X-Files reunion her, BYOXF." "BYO- what??" she asked as she walked in.

"Bring Your Own X-File." As Reyes sat down, Scully said, "Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes is here as well."

"Oh good, we can use all the brainpower we can get on this one."

Just then, Scully's computer beeped. Scully looked over. "Doggett, Reyes, Starkweather is online, via AOL Instant Messager." She sat down to "talk" to Starkweather as well, typing furiously: Got Doggett on phone. Can you chat securely?

Starkweather typed back: Am in coffeeshop with laptop. Alone. Chat away. PS: Am hotter than shit. Hope you're happy.

Mulder, completely immersed in the male malady known crudely as "blue ball syndrome" threw his arms up in the air. "Why don't we call the Skin-Man while we're at it?? Make the party complete."

"Mulder, SHUT UP," Reyes, Scully and Doggett said in unison. Grumpily, feeling completely ganged up on, Mulder, lower lip sticking out in a pout, slouched in Scully's easy chair. Starkweather typed: Is Mulder whining?

Scully replied: Yes.

Doggett spoke: "Now, I had an interesting little powwow with the GM of the station, a Ted Tiesdale. So far, he's coming out clean, but he did mention something that might be worth checking out, might not... he claims that during the time he's been with the station... he started in sales in..." Sound of rustling paper could be heard over the speaker phone, "1987. He was promoted to sales manager of 101.3 in 1989, general manager in 1994. Anyway, he said since the time he's been with the station, nothing like this has ever happened. HOWEVER... I was having coffee and doughnuts with a Sargeant Van Der Diem earlier tonight. He's been with the SCPD for over twenty years... and he said in 1985... a body of a young girl was found, spread eagled, in the parking lot of the radio station. Accidental overdose. She mistook heroin for cocaine and snorted it. She went into violent seizures, choked on her own blood and vomit." Scully relayed Doggett's words to Starkweather.

Starkweather typed back: Really?

"We were just talking to Starkweather earlier today," Mulder butted in. "How all the other victims did not die by strangulation, but by choking on their blood and vomit."

"Yeah, Starkweather filled me in briefly on that in an email just minutes ago. I think she's trying to cool off in a local coffeehouse. Anyway, so I asked Van Der Diem to pull the file for me. Get this. The OD victim was a Melinda Widlowsky, originally from Denver, Colorado. She was a senior at Rose Hill, studying what at the time was called broadcast journalism, which has now been renamed mass communications. She was interning at the station at the time for her final graduation requirements."

Scully filled Starkweather in. Starkweather typed back: Is he saying that Melinda may be the first victim??? Holy Nikes....

"So you think this Melinda is the first victim?" Scully repeated Starkweather's query aloud for Doggett.

"Well, I thought so, but after reading the report, it was a straight forward OD. No trace of foul play. But... here's the clincher... it may fit in, it may not... now, I don't know much about the subject, haven't had the opportunity to read up much on it... but according to police reports, this Melinda was an openly practicing Wiccan."

"Witchcraft." Mulder said.

"Do you think... now this is a leap and you ALL know how I feel about leaps," Doggett said. "But could that have anything to do with what's goin' on at that station?"

Reyes spoke up for the first time. "Wiccans have a nature- based, polytheistic deity belief system. They believe in peace and harmony between man and the four elements, wind, earth, fire and water. They have two basic tenets they adher to: 'An it harm none, do as ye will' and the Law of Three: "Any energy you send out will come back three-fold." In layman's terms, they believe in the "Golden Rule" of "Do unto others that you should have done unto you" that most credible, non-cultish religions preach. I have difficulty that a true Wiccan could be the culprit behind this."

"Unless the murders of the girls is the energy coming back to the murderer three-fold," Mulder said. "Someone done wrong to Melinda and it's being returned to them in spades."

"But who's the murderer?" Doggett asked. "Not the radio station?"

"Reyes," Mulder said. "You said you had a hunch. Did you find anything?"

Reyes took a breath and handed Mulder the files. Mulder glared at her, his hands were still in their potholder prisons. "Sorry," she smiled, taking the files back, opening them and handing Mulder the top sheet. "This is a case back in 1985, before Agent Mulder took over the X- Files, when it was handled by an Arthur Dales. He was sent to the Sioux City area because of suspected cult behavior. Several cattle in the area were found with ritualistic mutilations. A group of college girls from Rose Hill College were accused due to their religious beliefs."

"They were Wiccan." Mulder said. "The SCPD were not educated in the ways of witchcraft, plus, mind you, Iowa is still considered "God's Country." If it's not Christian, it's the devil's handiwork. In some counties, especially Sioux County, even if you're Roman Catholic, you may be under suspicion by some less than open minded folks."

"Catholicism IS Christianity," Scully said heatedly.

"But Catholics and Protestants have been debating the validity of their worshipping practices for centuries," Mulder said. "Think about it Scully. England. Ireland. Scotland. The Inquisition. Our country was partially founded on people fleeing their homelands to escape religious persecution. The descendants of these people may have strong feelings against what drove their ancestors away, including the Catholic Church."

"I've been told that Sioux County has mellowed in the past fifteen years in the area of religion, plus it's not fair to lump an entire state population into one stereotype," Reyes said gently, to stop a religious debate. Then, to put the conversation back on track, she said: "Agent Dales was sent up there, initially to gather evidence for an arrest and trial, but what he ended up doing was clearing the girls of any wrong doing. Turned out, it was just a mean- spirited prank by some local boys who couldn't hold their liquor."

"Well, when cow-tipping loses it thrill..." Mulder said.

Scully had been furiously typing to Starkweather even during her debate with Mulder.

Starkweather responded: Was Melinda one of these girls???

"Was Melinda one of girls accused?" Scully asked for Starkweather.

Reyes shook her head. "No, but I'm wondering if maybe Melinda knew these girls. I'm having our tech guys at Quantico running a check to see where they are now. Hopefully, they're still in the area and not scattered to the four winds. But... I believe there is a connection. I think that whoever played that hidious prank must have known the girls and tried to pin the blame on them. I believe that the same thing is happening now."

Starkweather typed: I think I met a chick who's messing with the occult. Whether or not she's a good witch or a bad witch I'm not sure.

Scully typed back: What makes you think she's in the occult?

Starkweather replied: She ripped some hair out of my head and I noticed she was wearing a pentagram, but it was not upside down the way Satanists wear them. Still doesn't make me feel very good though.

"Starkweather just said that she thinks she may have met a co-ed tonight who's dabbling in the occult."

"WHAT?" Both Doggett and Mulder said.

Reyes touched her head, remembering the sensation of hair being pulled from her scalp when she bumped Starkweather's wedding picture. "Can I 'talk' to her quick?" she asked Scully. Scully relinquished her seat. Reyes sat down and typed: Jerilyn, this is Monica Reyes, how are you?

Starkweather typed back: Hotter than hell. Iced coffee is my best friend right now.

Reyes typed: Did this girl pull hair from your head?

There was a long pause before Starkweather responded: How did you know? Did Scully tell you?

"What are you guys talking about?" Mulder asked Reyes.

"Hello?? You guys still there?" Doggett asked.

"We're here," Scully said. "Reyes is just asking Starkweather some questions."

Reyes was writing back: I'll explain to you later how I knew. What happened before she pulled your hair out? Did you talk to her or...?

Starkweather responded. Scully read aloud for everyone else's benefit: "I had just gotten out of my POS car. I was talking to my air headed roommate and her Christina Aguilera wannabe friends, then this chick wheeled by me on rollerblades and yanked hair out of my head for no apparent reason. My roommate yelled obscenities at her and then told me she's a freak. I just noticed her goth makeup and her jewelry. There wasn't time for anything else. Should I be worried about voodoo dolls??? If so, do you think she can make one of Kersh for us?"

"Hey, now THAT would be cool!" Mulder said.

"I'd have to agree," Doggett said.

Scully read on: "I found her room number, it's 334, Oona Hall. I was about to email the Three Stooges to ask them to do a boring little routine hackjob for me. Could you save me a step and call them instead? Her name is Autumn Chamberlain."

Mulder awkwardly grabbed his cell phone and held it out to Reyes. "It's number three on the speed dial." Reyes punched the appropriate buttons and handed the phone back to Mulder. "Frohike."

"Melvin, you sexy bitch." "Mulder, whaddya want? We're in the middle of watching an "Unsolved Mysteries" marathon on the Lifetime Channel."

"You guys are really sad," Mulder said.

"Speak for yourself."

"Can you do a quickie for me?"

"Anything." "Autumn Chamberlain, 334 Oona Hall, Rose Hill College, Sioux City, Iowa. Need some information on her."

"What kind?"

"Anything. Grades, achievements, arrest records, speeding tickets. The usual."

"That's not very exciting."

"And 'Unsolved Mysteries' is so much better."

"We'll have it for you in a few." Frohike hung up abruptly. Mulder shook his head. One of the reasons why he liked Frohike was because he was truly a man of few words.

"Alright," Mulder said. "Tell the Hurricane that the boys are looking into Autumn right now. We'll know in a few hours if she's Glenda the Good Witch or the Wicked Witch of the West."

Reyes relayed Mulder's message, albeit more tactfully to Starkweather. Starkweather typed back: I may have a lead, a better one than the Doughboy.

"Who's the Doughboy?" Reyes asked out loud.

"A fat kid who has a crush on Starkweather," Mulder said bluntly.

Scully made a tsking noise at Mulder and continued to read over Reyes' shoulder as Reyes typed: Who?

Starkweather responded. Again Scully read aloud: "Not tomorrow, but the next day, my dingy roommate's boytoy Bob is having a party for the victim's brother. He was living up at the dorms as well as Candi and he's returning after his sister's funeral. Bob is having a kegger in his honor. Isn't that sweet? Tomorrow night, I go on air."

"And I'm gonna be there," Doggett said firmly. "It's all arranged. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to have in my hand a listing of everyone who was on the station's payroll from 1985 to now. Want me to fax you guys a copy?" "Sure, it will make great bathroom reading," Mulder smirked. Before anyone else could say anything, Mulder said, "I know, I know. Shut up."

"Wow," Reyes couldn't resist. "He can be trained."

Scully joined in. "It only took eight years."

Doggett snickered over the phone. Starkweather typed: There is a lull in the IMing... are you guys making fun of the Deputy Mayor without me???

"What did I do to you guys?" Mulder demanded.

"You shoved me into a couch after I saved your ass," Doggett said.

"You were rude to me the first time we met," Reyes said.

"You were rude to ME the first time we met," Scully said.

"You stereotyped me as a skeptic and anti-X-File before you even bothered to get to know me," Doggett said.

"You called me 'pushy'," Reyes said.

"You thought I was sent to spy on you at first," Scully said.

"You call me 'Puppy-Man'," Doggett growled.

"You think I'm a flake," Reyes added.

"You teased me when Queequeg got eaten by an alligator," Scully pouted.

"You completely and totally stepped on my toes the entire time we worked together in an official capacity," Doggett railed.

"You made fun of my hair." Reyes said.

"Alright, alright..." Mulder groaned.

Scully said, "I'm having the weirdest sense of deja vu right now."

Over the phone, Doggett said, "Me too."

The next day, 12 days left of the investigation
KRRQ 101.3 FM
10:25 PM Central Standard Time

"Do you think you can secure a band if we do this, if we agree to sponsor this?" Ted Tiesdale asked his program director, Reece Jackson, a long lanky man with beady little eyes and stained teeth in a big face. He laughed alot and agreed with everything Ted said.

The radio station was trying to decide if they wanted to sponsor a street dance on the Friday before Labor Day. From the biting, bitter comments from Ted and Dustin Hoesling, the sales manager for KRRQ, they sponsored one last year and it was a spectacular failure and a phenomenal loss of revenue to the station. Ted and Dustin weren't to eager to repeat last year's mistake.

"Oh sure, oh sure," Reece said feverishly. "I'll get someone good, but not too big. Some up and coming. Like Trick Pony or Jamie O'Neil or something."

<<Who?>> Starkweather thought, Ted, Dustin, Reece and the promotions director/afternoon on air personality, Taran Culver, continued to bicker on about cost and time and effort. Starkweather, dressed in a t-shirt and khakis slacks because Carolina said "that was okay", kept eyeing the pen Reece was chewing on. With the exception of Ted, who wrote with an elegant gold fountain pen that Starkweather knew he would miss if it turned up missing, Reece had been there the longest, since 1985... a little bell chimed within her. She had a little notebook she was doodling in, fooling her new "superiors" into thinking she was taking superculious notes, truth be known, she didn't give a damn about their petty little business meeting. She did not write herself a note to remind herself to contact the Lone Gunmen to check Reece Jackson out.

She didn't have to. One of Starkweather's traits that made her "special", almost eerie, was her 99.9% accurate photographic memory. If she told herself to do something, she would remember to do it. If she told herself to remember something, she would remember it, every minute detail in vivid colors and whispering sounds. When she was fourteen, when her parents made the decision to accelerate her through high school, her guidance counselor gave her a standardized IQ test... her results were off the charts. Another oddity about Starkweather was her almost alien ability to concentrate on two subjects at the same time. While the radio people where debating on and on about the validity of sponsoring another potential flop, Starkweather was busy arranging and rearranging evidence and theories about the murder case like living room furniture. But no matter how she put it together, it just didn't look right. Something was out of place. Although she was obsessing and fretting over the case, ever aware of the ticking clock reminding her that when school was officially in, she HAD to be officially out, when she was asked a question: "What do you think, Jeri?"

"I think... that Taran is right and if we're going to do this, we need to schedule a rain date and up the pricing for advertising, justifying the cost with the need for a rain date." She didn't have to pause or stumble, she knew exactly what they were talking about. "The girl's a genius," Dustin said appreciatively, a big smile on his expansive boyish face.

<<If you only knew>> Starkweather thought egotistically, hiding her thoughts behind a pretty girlish face.

"Well, that wraps up what's on my agenda," Taran closed her folder with a snap, checking her watch. "I have a remote I have to be at in an hour, so if you don't mind," she excused herself, exiting the room.

A general exodus occurred, but Reece stopped Starkweather for a moment. "Just wanted to touch base with you, you know. See how you're doing and all," he spoke at a manic pace, as if he was still on air. Starkweather, half serious, half not, wondered if he was on drugs. "Are you excited for your first night on air?" Starkweather barely got a word in edgewise before Reece rambled on. "I like a good strong female voice and you have a good voice. You'll do a great job. Now I know we had some problems in the past with security, but we're working on that and until we find whoever it is that's making all the trouble, we've got that guy from the FBI to stay with you. Plus we'll have the overnight guy coach you on your first night."

<<Damn!!!>> Starkweather thought frantically. She and Doggett were counting on having the station to themselves. "Um, Taran showed me how to run the board this morning. I think I can handle it."

"Oh good, oh good, but Ace will be there anyway, he likes to come in late and work on production. He's a night owl," Reece totally ignored her. "Now we just have to think of a good air name. Jeri O'Brien isn't very radio friendly. Is Jeri your entire first name?"

"No, it's Jerilyn, actually."

"Oooh," Reece frown, his face scrunched up in horror. "I'm sorry man, did your parents not like you?" he laughed at his own pitiful joke.

Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, named for the good people who adopted her, the Admiral Jeremy Bailey and his wife, Lynette, bridled visibly at the program director's unintentional insult. "It's a family name," she said as civilly as possible. "That sucks," Reece said cheerfully. "Well, we'll give you a new name. Most of the people who work here have air names. Like Carolina? She started her as an intern from USD. Her real name is Sue or something, I don't even remember anymore, but she started on air and now she works in traffic. And Taran's a Kayla, I think." Starkweather's heart faltered even more. <<How are we supposed to figure out who's who on the payroll if nobody goes around here by their real names?>> She realized that the man she was talking to probably wasn't even named Reece at birth. <<Oh God>> she moaned to herself as Reece babbled on, typical DJ who loved the sound of his own voice, <<how can this situation possibly get any worse?>>

"Jazzy Star."

"What?" Starkweather just wanted to be sure she heard him right.

"Your new name, your on-air persona, Jazzy Star, like a new shining star the horizon. Plus, now I'm not trying to be sexually inappropriate or anything, but you're such a cute girl and Jerilyn... ugh... what a bad name for you. It's so serious and uptight. Jazzy just fits you better I think. When I saw you, I thought, 'what a jazzy girl we're getting here!'" he said proudly.

<<Yup, it just got worse. Please don't let Mulder find this one out>> Starkweather prayed. Being dubbed "The Hurricane" was bad enough. "Um, how about Bailey for a first name?" she asked timidly.

"BAILEY??? Ugh, WHY???"

"What about Starkweather for a last name?" she asked in vain.

"Stark- what??? Why on earth would you want a name that sounds like a wicked storm?" he shook his head in wonder.

"No reason," she muttered, conceding defeat.

"Well, I'm going to go make up the weekend schedule. See you later," he left in a rush, leaving behind the pen he was nibbling on which Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather AKA Jeri O'Brien AKA Jazzy Star snatched and slipped into her pocket for Agent Reyes back in DC. Rose Hill College 5:32 PM Central Standard Time

Starkweather didn't have to be at the radio station until eleven-thirty that night, so with time to kill, she took a wall around campus, appreciating the beauty of the college on the hill, but not the humidity and certainly not the smell of the city below. She wandered the campus, idly inspecting the outside structures of the library, the co-ed dorms, the male dorms, the gym that was built into the side of the hill. Which, according to college legend, was actually sliding off of the hill inch by inch because of poor architectural planning. The cafeteria, the theatre, the chapel, the classroom building, the art studios and the open wound in the earth in front of the co-ed dorm where a new student center was being built. Starkweather wandered past it, sipping from her water bottle, looking past the building in progress to the hills of untouched prairie behind the school. Starkweather would later learn it was a wild life game preserve and off-limits to the encroaching city but at the time she thought it was insane to be trying to squish another building on the top of an already overcrowded hill when there was all the land for the taking behind the school.

She walked through the back parking lot behind Tower Hall, the men's dorms where the male students and the commuter students parked their cars during the school years. In the sweltering heat, Starkweather meandered her way down the long winding back driveway with the gait of someone with all the time of the world but with the mindset of prisoner on death row. <<Three days>> she fumed. <<I've been here for three god damned days and we're no closer to solving this than before.>> Her soul was twisting with queasiness in the knowledge that she only had twelve days left undercover. She knew that the "old school" agents back in DC were working as hard and fast as they could trying to make sense of what was happening at that radio station, or at least a profile. She also knew that Scully's time and energy was handicapped by a sick kid, which couldn't be helped.

She didn't know that Mulder too was ill, he had been wise to keep that tidbit away from the Hurricane. But he was spending fevered, sleepless nights, nitpicking at every tiny detail, hoping for a break. Chaffing at being put into the pasture, like an old Civil war horse, made old too young by constant trauma and pressure and battles. But still, when the trumpets cry out and the drums beat to the rhythms of carnage and destruction, tries to make a flying leap over the fence and back into the fight.

And then the "new kids on the block" were trying to find the truth in their own ways. Reyes had turned out to be a blessing, Starkweather had to admit. No one would have noted the possible supernatural connection if Reyes hadn't followed her heightened sensibilities and dug up that old case from 1985. Meanwhile, Doggett was running himself ragged, he had gotten the names of the girls accused of the cattle mutilations and only one out of the four accused, an Alice Meecham, still lived in town. And she was "in absentia" for she just had a baby a few days ago, nearly bled out during a complication during the delivery of her baby girl. She was still poorly, but out of danger and steadily improving. The charge nurse at St. Luke's crisply told Doggett she would be released in three or four more days if she continued to improve. Starkweather and Doggett had fumed like conspirators over the phones. Sure, they felt sorry for the woman and the troubles she went through with her labor, but still... three, possibly four days! They barely had twelve days left and still on square one. Mrs. Meecham just very well unknowingly be able to give that one piece of information, that one clue that could wrap the deal up in gift wrap which in then Starkweather and Doggett would happily gift the case over to the Iowa court systems to deal with and they would GO HOME.

Starkweather shivered despite the heat when she thought the word, "home." <<Home to what?>> she asked herself but shoved that thought aside when she noticed something very interesting that Preston neglected to show her during her tour.

Most people took the northwestern driveway up to the college. However, if one took the east driveway which divided the college from the baseball field the college shared with the Catholic high school, and looked to the east, up at the college, they would notice a winding concrete walking path curling up through pine trees and lilac bushes. The walking path eventually turned into dual stone staircases, which diverted, ran parallel to each other, then converged at a wall, a landing built into the hill. Then above the wall was another row of stairs leading to another landing with a wall jutting out. Then another row of stairs leading out of that landing, but these stairs again separated into two and led to the top of the hill, where the flagpole was, straight across the "street" from the library.

The stairs looked decrepit and Celtic. Not cared for and out of place in the land where green corn stalks made waves like a lazy ocean. But it was not as so much the architectural oddity that caught Starkweather's eye, it was the girl climbing the stairs. Autumn Chamberlain.

Starkweather was very glad she chose to leave her khakis slacks on, much cooler than denim plus she could still hide her trusty little Beretta in her ankle holster.

There are times were Starkweather liked her gun very much. This was one of them. Confident that Autumn did not see her, Starkweather scooted across the street and hid in the dense foliage surrounding the stairs. Autumn was trudging up the hill at her own pace, sweat glistening off her heavily made up face. Hidden in the small thicket of trees and lilac bushes that lined the staircase all the way up the hill, Starkweather, remembering the hell of Basic Training, began to stealthily low-crawl up the hill, pausing to listen for Autumn's footsteps.

Autumn stopped at the first landing and leaned over the wall, unaware of the FBI agent in the bushes just feet away from her. Behind Autumn, Starkweather could see a monument to Saint Francis of Assisi. Autumn veered off and with a purpose, veered into the glade that was virtually unnoticeable from the road for it was completely shaded by the trees and bushes. She looked around, then pulled a pack of Camel Lights from her back pocket, took one out with her teeth and lit it with a Zippo. She slung her backpack and crouched down to lift out the contents. First, she pulled out a giant violet silk handkerchief, kissed it and laid it out on the ground. Then she pulled out a small silver bell and placed it ritualistically on the handkerchief. Next out was a silver pentacle, then a small silver chalice. Next out was a pouch, which, as far as Starkweather could tell, contained various types of polished rocks and semi-precious stones. The next and final thing out of her backpack was a vicious looking knife with a black handle and a double edged blade. Autumn stood up, knife in hand, looking around again, like a deer trying to sniff for hunters on a winter's night. Starkweather, meanwhile, held her breath. <<Oh, God, don't tell me she's going to suicide>> she prayed, watching.

Autumn began chanting something Starkweather didn't understand, but when she raised the knife to her wrists, the cop came out in Starkweather and she left her hiding place, knocking the knife out of her hands, knocking Autumn to the ground.

Starkweather instantly pinned her, with her strong hands grasping Autumn's tiny wrists, her arms over her head. Autumn tried to buck Starkweather off of her. "Get the hell off of me!!!" she rasped in a rage.

Starkweather, noting the scars on Autumn's wrists, in perfect vertical symmetry with major arteries, said "In your dreams, darlin'," she snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

Autumn hissed, "I could ask you the same thing... Agent Starkweather."

Starkweather, startled, leapt off and pulled her gun.

Autumn sighed. "You can put that down," she said, wearily. "I'm not going to tell anyone." When Starkweather stood up, still pointing the gun at her, Autumn rolled her eyes like any other twenty year old and said. "Oh, come on, look at me. Like anyone here is going to believe me anyway. Trust me."

"Ha." Starkweather snapped. "In my line of work, trust gets you killed."

"I know," Autumn replied. "I'm a criminal justice/psych major."

"What?"

"I'm studying criminal justice and psychology," Autumn said patiently. "I want to work for the FBI."

"What?"

"I want to be a profiler."

"What?"

"Is that all you can say?"

"Only when I'm completely flustered."

"Why are you flustered?" Autumn said serenely, setting herself in a more comfortable position, as if she and Starkweather were good friends and just chatting, completely ignoring the gun now. "Because I'm so young or because I'm a witch?"

She stated that so nonchalantly, the same way one would say "Catholic" or "Jewish" or "Buddist" or "Christian Scientist" that Starkweather lowered her gun and sat down. She safetied it, but kept it out. "Well," Starkweather looked at all of her artifacts and tools of her religion. "Um... yeah. Sure. That."

"It's not what you think," Autumn said. "I don't have green skin. I don't own a broomstick and I'm deathly allergic to cats. It's... it's very complicated."

"I've got time," Starkweather said evenly. "I am extremely interested in finding out how you figured out who I really am."

"I saw you coming," Autumn said simply. "In a dream. I dreamt of a woman who is in the world but not of this world along with a partner, a very strong man with blue eyes would come to solve Candi's murder. And then you came about four days later." She shook her head. "I haven't seen your partner yet, but I've felt his presence."

"Obi-Wan has taught you well," Starkweather deadpanned.

"Huh?" Autumn was not a sci-fi buff.

"Okay, honey, you need to get out of the woods once in the while and go see a movie." Starkweather groaned. "How did you learn my name?"

"In my dream. I heard a man calling it out."

"Honey," Starkweather shook her head. "It's been a long time since a man's called out my name."

"But you're married."

Starkweather froze. Autumn smiled, a shy, fey grin. "Since I know most of your secrets, I'll tell you mine..."

Starkweather tried to get herself together. After all, she could be talking to a potential suspect. Autumn Chamberlain began her tale. Starkweather leaned forward, completely mesmerized, although she never let go of her gun...

"I was born into a completely normal All American family," she began, still sitting cross-legged, the only movement from her was her moving speaking lips and her blowing hair, being played with by the hot Iowa winds. "When I was small, right before kindergarten, my grandmother died. A traumatic event in any small child's life, but made worse when I dreamed of her death the night before it happened. I told my mother what I had dreamed of the day we found out Grandma passed away and she yelled at me and sent me to my room, told me now was not the time to play make believe. I didn't understand. Mom and Grandma were not close, never had been. Dad told me it was because Mom was sad that Grandma died and wouldn't I be sad if my mommy died? So I should just be good and play quietly in my room until suppertime.

"Little did I know that it was fear and not grief that made her act like that. I found later in Mom's journals that when I came to her with all the details of Grandma's death, right up to seeing her arms making one last ditch effort to reach the phone as the heart attack paralyzed her body, she was filled with fear for me. She wrote that it seems that I had inherited the "Family Madness." Grandma had it, my Aunt Lizzie had it. A couple of my cousins had it. She made it sound like a disease." Starkweather asked her first question. "How did you get ahold of your mother's journal? Did she pass away?"

"No, I was going through her drawers, stealing money." Autumn said blandly. "I had a healthy drug habit going until I discovered the ways of Wicca. As I grew up and older, my visions grew stronger, coming to me even when I was awake. My parents both admonished me, told me to "stop that nonsense" so I would quash the visions, pretend that they meant nothing and moved through life under the guise of an ordinary girl. "Until two nights before it happened, I had a nightmare of a man coming for my best friend, raping her and killing her. I was twelve years old," Autumn continued quietly. "She was eleven. We were the best of friends, Shelby and me. When I had that dream, I did not suppress it, I did not hide it. I told everyone who listened to me. I told my parents. I told my teachers. I told random people on the street. I told Shelby's parents. I told Shelby. Shelby got mad at me and told me to stop telling people. See, her stepfather had been molesting Shelby for the past few months. She was filled with a deep fear and a deep shame because her mother was head over heels in love with that man and she..." Autumn shut her eyes tight for a moment.

"In my innocence, telling Shelby's parents about that dream was the catalyst for Shelby's stepdad into madness. He is a very disturbed man. In the night, he came into Shelby's room, snatched her, got one last jolly from her and killed her, leaving her body on the side of the road. Then he tried to break into our house, coming for me. Only I was wide-awake and woke everyone up with my screaming. He confessed to everything, not just to Shelby's murder, but to the molesting of Shelby's nine-year-old sister and his own thirteen-year-old daughter. He tried to get off on insanity but..." she shrugged. "He's still rotting in Sing Sing as we speak. After the testimony of his daughter and stepdaughter, he'll never see the light of day again.

"What does that have to do with you?" Starkweather asked.

"In the wisdom of a twelve year old, I assumed that Shelby's death was my fault. That if I would have done what my mother asked me, keep quiet, stayed with the norm, Shelby wouldn't have been killed. So began my little spree of self-destruction. When my first suicide attempt didn't work," she looked at her wrists wryly. "I tried to kill myself slowly. Let school go to hell. Let all my old elementary school friends go to hell. Starting hanging out with "the bad kids." Was drinking and doing drugs on a regular basis by the time I was fourteen. By the time I was fifteen, I had already been with five or six different boys and we just didn't sit around holding hands if you catch my drift." Autumn said, a naughty twinkle in her eyes. "By the time I was sixteen, the count was up to twelve different guys, I was a heartbeat away from being expelled from school for low attendance and bad grades, I was stealing from my parents to fortify my drug needs. The only good thing about being stoned all the time was my mind was too clouded over to receive visions."

"But I was still miserable and I didn't know why. So I made my second attempt. The first time I tried, I snarfed down a bottle of Tylenol. I didn't die though, obviously, it made me really really sick plus my dad found me trying to make myself throw up afterwards because my stomach hurt so bad. He brought me to the hospital and had my stomach pumped. The second time, I wanted it to be quick. I took one of Dad's razor blades and opened up my wrists." She shrugged as if to say "oh well."

"Who found you?" Starkweather asked.

"My dad again," Autumn said. "He heard me fall when I passed out from the blood loss. He called the ambulance and once again I was whisked away to a hospital. Once I got stitched up and was pronounced out of danger, my parents persuaded me to sign myself into detox. I fought them because the booze and drugs were the only things that kept the visions away. But they practically bullied me into it and so I signed myself in. Their nagging probably saved my ass."

"So while I was drying out, unknown to my folks to this day, my Aunt Lizzie came and visited me. All the poisons I had put into my body was out of my system now, it was just the psychological addictions I was battling."

"We talked for a long time and it was a good talk. She said she always wanted to sit down and talk at length with me about our mutual gifts but my mom always forbade it, as she did with Grandma. She didn't keep my aunt and Grandma away because she's a cruel person but because she was afraid for me. She didn't want me to be an outcast, a weirdo or whatever. She just wanted me to be a normal teenage girl. "'Well, I'm in rehab, what does that tell you?' I said.

"Aunt Lizzie laughed and told me that women on their side of the family has had the gift of second sight for generations. Why it skipped my mom, who knows? Lizzie said that she and Grandma have seen horrible things in their time, but on the other side, have seen wonderful things before they've happened too, once they've learned to accept the gift, and not fight it.

"'You've got to be strong. You've got to find a support system that you can lean on when things get bad, when you see things that are bad that you have no control over. You need to find something to rely on, to show when you have power over the situations that you see and when you don't."

"So your Aunt Lizzie taught you about Wicca?" "Oh God no," Autumn said slowly moving her hands to her bag, "I'm just getting my smokes," she assured her, as Starkweather, feline quick, reached out and grabbed her wrist again.

"Let me get them." Starkweather fished around the bag and pulled out the pack of Camels and a box of matches. "Aunt Lizzie's not a witch?"

"Never. She's a devoted member of her hometown Lutheran church and one of the finest Christian women I've ever met. Doesn't just talk the talk, she walks the walk, you know what I mean."

"You don't have anything against her for being Christian?" "Why would I?" Autumn looked confused. "Her Christianity is her personal business just as my Wiccan is mine... normally. Aunt Lizzie just knew I needed help and she came to me and told me to stop pretending being something that I'm not and don't be afraid to ask a higher power for help.

"When I got out of detox, I started looking for religious instruction. My parents were delighted. But their church didn't suit me. Nor did the Catholic Church, the Episcopalian Church, the Methodist Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day saints, the Buddhist Temple, the Jewish Synagogue, the Muslim Mosque... nothing seem to fit."

"So how did you learn about witchcraft?" Starkweather asked.... "Actually, it was a paper I had to write for a class," Autumn continued. "I had cleaned myself up, started school here," she looked around at the trees. "I was in World Religions 101 with," here she crinkled her face in distaste "Sister Margaret Anne, the old bat. Anyway, she assigned the class to write about alternative religions, anything outside of the Judeo-Christian mindset. We were assigned all different types of religions. Mine was modern-day paganism. So, I started my research and the more I learned, the more it felt right... doubt that was what Sister Marge had in mind when she gave me that assignment," she grinned. "And that's how I decided to become Wiccan."

"Hmmm," Starkweather scratched her chin, "so are their others in your group? A ring leader, a head witch....?"

Autumn smiled again. "I'm not part of a cult, if that is what you're asking. Cults usually expect you to blindly follow their leader, no matter how insane or immoral he or she is. Wiccans don't have a leader. Wicca encourages freedom of thought and action. We believe that we are responsible for our own actions. Wiccans DO form groups, called "covens", more of a witch-support group than anything else. But I'm not part of a coven or anything. I practice alone. I prefer it that way."

"Are you alone a lot?"

Autumn smiled again. "Yes... but if you're looking for a suspect for Candi's murder, you're looking at the wrong person. I was in New York, visiting my parents when Candi was killed." Autumn stood up. So did Starkweather. "And, if you're still doubting me, which I can tell you are, you can call the NYPD and pull the case file on Shelby's murder... it was headed by a Detective John..." she searched for a name, "Doggett."

Starkweather stared, jaw dropping. She collected herself and muttered, "I won't have to call New York."

"I didn't want to help." Autumn said. "I had the vision of Candi being murdered in the station while I was in New York and I had the visions of you and your partner coming here to work on the case. I really didn't want to be involved. I've got work and summer school and other stuff going on..." she paused to brush the Morticia Addams black hair out of her face. "But, after today, I believe the gods have other things in mind and they lead you to me."

"Gods?" Starkweather said, emphasize on the "s."

"We believe in many gods, plus spirits..." she smiled. "But that might be too much for you today... anyway... what I'm saying is, that I can help you. I think I was meant to help you."

"If we need a psychic for this case," Starkweather said in a serious tone, "then we'll call the Stupendous Yappi."

"I've seen him on TV," Autumn said, "he sucks. May I go? I've got some reading I need to do before I go to work tonight."

Starkweather gritted her teeth. "I think, you need to come with me to the police station," she said. "I can't have my cover compromised."

"I'm not going to say anything."

"How do I know?"

"You know," Autumn said, bending down, collecting her things. "You've got a strong heart, Agent Starkweather. It could be stronger if you open yourself up more. You know that I'm not going to say anything, but you don't have any proof and that scares you to death. To use Christian imagery, you're the doubting Thomas. You NEED to see the nail holes in Christ's hands and feet, to put your hands in the wound in his side, to feel His blood on your fingers." Once her things were in her bag, she stood up. "Besides, what would I have to gain by blabbing? Absolutely nothing, except for a possible charge of obstruction of justice. With that said, may I?" she gestured towards the hill.

Starkweather relented. "If you breathe one word of this to ANYONE and I'll cut out your heart and microwave it for dinner." Autumn nodded. "I believe it," she said, equally serious. "Tori is still whining about how you punched out her boy- toy," she chuckled. "You certainly do know how to make an impression on people... sometimes quite literally." She smiled, turned her back and walked up the hill.

Starkweather watched the girl disappear up the hill. She was grimly reminded of that stupid, faded poster of Mulder's that Scully insisted stayed up.

"I WANT to believe," she muttered as she crouched down and put her gun back in her ankle-holster. Scully's Apartment Georgetown 5:01 Eastern Time

With Scully dozing in the couch, Will sleeping feverishly on her stomach, Mulder stealthily crept into the kitchen. With his permanently mittened hands, he clumsily opened Scully's "junk drawer" and as quietly as possible, fumbled through the drawer until he found his prize. "Yes!" he crowed triumphant, holding a pair of scissors. Then he tried to hold the scissors properly so he could cut the potholders off his hand. "Damn," he pouted, despondent again.

But, being Fox Mulder, he was used to finding solutions when none where apparent. Mulder pulled out a chair and sat down. Using both hands, he opened the blades of the scissors. Holding one handle of the scissors with his left hand, he gingerly placed the bottom blade on the kitchen table. Remembering to clench his right fingers in a fist <<I'd hate to explain to Scully how I cut my fingers off>> he thought as he placed the top of the oven mitt between the blades. With his free hand, he began to push down on the handle of the scissors. "Awwww, c'mon....." he whined. "What are these damn mitts made of? Titanium??" Frustrated, he slapped the scissors down on the table and buried his head in his arms.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully's tired voice came from the living room.

"Oh nothing," he said a little too innocently. "Just getting something to drink."

"You're not trying to get those potholders off again, are you?" she asked.

"No." "Liar."

"She is the light of my life, I'm happy to have her," Mulder muttered through gritted teeth. "She is the light of my life, I'm happy to have her. She is the light of my life, I'm happy to have her," he kept repeating as he fumbled around the kitchen for a glass and went to the fridge for a drink. He took out the pitcher of cold water and preceded to poor himself a cool drink, and ended up spilling all over the kitchen counter and floor.

Scully groaned when she heard the noise.

"Don't get up!" Mulder called out to her.

"I wasn't planning on it," came the retort.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray," Mulder sang to himself sarcastically as he got a towel to mop up his mess.

"I heard that!!!"

"At this point in time, Scully, I don't really care," Mulder fired back as he finished up wiping up the spilled water. Throwing the towel in the kitchen sink, he stormed into the living room. "You're treating me like a child and I'm sick of it."

"If you wake Will, I will kill you," she said in hushed tones. Mulder toned down the volume but not his temper tantrum. "The itching really isn't all that bad anymore and I totally resent being kept here like a muzzled pet."

"Nobody's stopping you from going back to your apartment," Scully snapped. "I'm sure your fish miss you." "I WOULD go home, but" he held out his hands. "I can't pick up my damn car keys!"

The complete insanity of the situation finally hit Scully. She started to snicker, but tried to not to laugh out loud, still not wanting to wake up Will. Mulder, completely infuriated by now, put his oven-mitted hands on his hips. "This ISN'T funny, Scully," he fumed, using his entire hand to push up the reading glasses that were sliding off his nose.

Scully lost it, she started laughing until tears rolled down her face, the sight of Mulder, shirtless, in a pair of black sweatpants, oven-mitts duct-taped to his hands, hands on hips, barefoot, bare-chested, covered head to toe with chicken pox spots, with his glasses sliding off was too much.

So in the end, it was Scully's laughter that ended up waking up the baby, who instantly began to fuss. But, still giggling, she stood up with the baby and crossed over to Mulder. Handing the crabby boy to Mulder, she asked. "Still want to go home? I can drive you."

"No," he said with a pout. "Not really. But I think you need to get out of the house and away from us, isn't that right Boo?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, go out tonight, go away, go to a movie, call someone... Reyes or Skinner, go out to dinner, get drunk, something, anything. Just go be with adults for awhile. I think me and the slugger here are driving you insane."

"What about Will? What about the case?"

Mulder reasoned "As long as your cell is with you, I can call you if we need you, be it for the case or for Boo."

Scully debated. She felt soooooooo disloyal for deserting her post but on the other hand.... "Are you sure Mulder?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't sure," Mulder pecked her forehead. "Of course, there's a catch."

"What?" Scully asked warily. Mulder open and shut the oven mitts like sock puppets again. "These bad boys have got to come off if I'm going to be one-on-one with the baby."

Scully conceded defeat, she wanted to get out that desperately. "All right Mulder, but if you scratch, don't expect me to feel sorry for you when you're scarred for life," and she went to get the scissors to cut the duct tape away from the mitts.

When Scully left, Mulder whispered to Will, "Score one for us, Boo." Mulder looked at the oven mitt. "I wonder how gross my fingernails are going to look after being trapped in these things for so long." He made a face. "Ew."....

Rose Hill College Jeri and Tori's dorm room 9:23 PM Central Time

Starkweather was working on her computer notebook, surfing the Internet for information on Wicca, laying on her bed, sweating profusely. She checked the time, she had two hours before she was supposed to be at the radio station for her shift. Just then Tori, Mandi and Jennifer, the "Barbie Posse" breezed in. "Hey, Jeri, what's going on?" "Oh, just doing some research for a paper I have to write for my World Religions class," Starkweather lied.

"Aw, man, all work and no play sucks," Jennifer whined. "Come with us, we're going to see the late showing of 'Evolution' at the buck-fifty theater tonight."

"I don't want to see that movie though," Mandi whined. "It's some dumb sci-fi thing." "I know, but sexy bitch Duchovny's in it and I heard he moons the camera in this movie. I am so there!" Jennifer proclaimed. "Sexy bitch, who?" Starkweather asked.

The three girls stared at her. "David Duchovny????" Jennifer's mouth hung open.

"Who?"

"Don't you watch TV????" Mandi asked. "He's on that really weird alien-monster show... Jen, what's it called?"

"Oh, I don't know, I don't watch sci-fi." Jennifer said breezily. "I heard the show's pretty stupid. Really far- fetched and stuff. But David is hot..."

The girls began to sing together "David Duchovny, why don't you love me???"

Starkweather just stared open-mouthed. "Ooooo - kay..." she muttered, turning her attention back to her computer.

"So, do you want to come with? We're going to hit the bar afterwards." Tori asked. "I thought ya'll weren't twenty-one yet?" Starkweather asked.

All three girls flashed their fake IDs. "Bob got them for us, isn't he swwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet?" Tori gushed.

"I'm sure you think he is," Starkweather purred.

The insult flew right over her head. "Well, be careful... of course..." she turned to her friends. "If your roommate dies during the summer, do you still get straight As for the rest of next semester or does that only apply during the school year?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Jennifer pondered the issue.

"NOT that we WANT anything bad to happen to you," Tori assured Starkweather. "How nice of you," Starkweather deadpanned.

"Well, too bad you gotta work tonight," Mandi said. "Maybe next time."

"Sure," Starkweather said. "That would be peachy-keen."

"Byyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee," Tori sang out. "Don't work too hard."

<<Yeah, I'll be too busy trying to stay alive, I don't like you enough to guarantee you straight As for a semester.>> Starkweather thought while plastering a fake smile on her baby face. She could hear the Barbie posse singing down the hall "David Duchovny, why won't you love me???"

Starkweather, an avid movie buff, said out loud to the walls. "Who the fuck is David Duchovny?????? Gawd... this is going to BUG me now...."

Just then, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Doc, it's me. Can you talk?"

"Sure," Starkweather got up and shut the door. "Actually, I'm glad you called, I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Don't tempt me, there's a trio of Buffy's I'd use as target practice. Anyway... from your days with the NYPD... does the name Autumn Chamberlain ring any bells for you?" Doggett was silent. "No one named Autumn... but I remember a little girl who testified in a child-molestion-murder case named Imogene Chamberlain. After this sick twist raped and killed his step-daughter, he broke into this kid's house and tried to get at her."

"Imogene????" Starkweather crinkled her nose. "God... her parents not like her or something?"

"I don't know, why?"

"I'll tell you later, I gotta call-" a big heavy sigh "- Mulder." Doggett snickered. "Lucky you."

"Yeah... tell me about it...."

Scully's apartment
10:35 PM Eastern Time

"So you see Will..." Mulder said as he spooned chocolate ice cream into his mouth, "that's why the Yankees suck and you should root for my favorite team...the Mets. do you understand?"

Will smiled uncomprehendingly and then flung ice cream all over himself, Mulder and the kitchen floor.

"That's my boy..." Mulder wiped a glob of ice cream off his forehead.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Mulder whisked Will out of his high chair and went to the front door. The Lone Gunman was standing there. Byers was burdened down with all their computer equipment. Frohike was carrying two six packs of Heineken and a twelve pack of Old Milwaukee. Langly was carrying two large pizza boxes while eating a slice at the same time. "Hey Muld-" Langly started to say, but stopped when he got a good look at Mulder and Will, covered with chicken pox and chocolate ice cream.

"What?" Mulder asked innocently.

"BUWAHAHAHAHA!!!!" The Lone Gunman doubled over in laughter.

"Nice get-up, Mr. Mom," Frohike snickered.

"Oh shut up and get in here." Mulder let them in. "Just set up wherever. I've got to get the little guy washed up and into to bed so you better save me some pizza, guys."

"Are you sure Scully's okay with this?" Byers fussed as Mulder disappeared with Will into the bathroom. "The last time we were over, she threatened to kill us."

As he ran bath water for a sticky Will, Mulder said "I don't think Scully will be feeling any pain when she comes back....

Meanwhile Bennigan's...

"AND THEN..." Scully said to Monica Reyes as she gestured to the bartender to refill her glass, "there was the time he told me 'Oh don't WORRY Scully, it'll be a nice trip to the forest.' Nice trip! Nice trip my ass! These little, icky glowing green BUGS just about ate us all. I hate bugs. And these bugs... you could only see them at night and they spun big cocoons and they suck you dry. Of course I didn't believe it at first... but... gee, I was wrong... as usual... surprise! And all of that stuff I told you about happened in the FIRST YEAR I worked with Fox! I've got seven more years of shit that he put me through to tell you about!"

Reyes had been chain smoking the entire time Scully had been slurring out her life history. "You must be drunk, you called him 'Fox'" she pointed out.

"I did?" Scully took another drink. "Huh. Guess I did. You know, I almost named Will Fox, but I thought that would be too sappy... but I might have anyway if Mulder had died for real... do you know how many times Mulder has almost gotten us killed??"

"Dana, what are you drinking???" Reyes asked nervously, eyeing Scully's Smurf-blue drink. She had never seen Scully sh*t-faced drunk before.

"Mmmm, I dunno, they're good though... excuse me! Bartender, what are these??" she asked coyly. "Electric Lemonades, ma'am. Triple sec, Absolut vodka and Blue Cuaraco."

"I'm drinking Electric Lemonades," Scully slurred proudly.

"I see..." Reyes used the butt of her old cigarette to light a new one. "Fox and Will must have been really driving you crazy the last few days."

Scully, meanwhile, had descended into the weepy apologetic phase of a drunken stupor. "They ARE, but they mean so much to me, I feel so guilty for wanting to get out of the house because I'm sick of them! But I shouldn't be... that sounds so bad. Oh, Reyes, I'm sorry, I don't know what you must think of me. I usually don't get like this. In fact, the last time I got this drunk... I got a tattoo and then I went home with a good looking man who tried to kill me because his magical talking tattoo told him to. Wanna see? It's actually kinda cool, it's of a snake," Scully started to lift the back of her blouse.

Reyes pushed her Amaretto Sour away from her, "I'll be having Cokes for the rest of the night," she whispered to the bartender.

"They'll be on the house," he whispered back to her.

With a dopey grin on her normally serious Madonna face, Scully said "You're drivin'" to Reyes.

Reyes responded. "No shit."

Meanwhile... Scully's apartment.

The phone rang. With a mouthful of pizza, Mulder garbled out a hello.

Back in her hellish dorm room in Sioux City, Starkweather wiped perspiration off of her forehead, "Deputy Mayor," she said formally as she sniffed her sweat-soaked T-shirt. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "It's me."

"Me who?" "Starkweaather, you dick." Mulder, used to her constant abuse by now, merely replied, "How goes it?" very politely. <<Kill her with kindness>> He thought with a grin.

"It goes crappy. And yourself?"

Mulder surveyed the chaos. The Gunmen were worse than a hundred Wills when it came to the matter of cleanliness. Byers wasn't so bad, but Langly and Frohike were human tornadoes. Already, the kitchen table was littered with used napkins, empty beer cans and pizza crusts. "I believe I can safely say that I have had brighter days," he said mildly. "So, with the pleasantries out of the way and for once, Jerilyn, I have to say that it was almost pleasant talking to you, can I take a message? Scully isn't home."

"Actually, Deputy Mayor... I need to talk to you." "To me? Now what did I do?" he asked in his maddening monotone.

"Nothing yet," She sighed. "Can you get in touch with the Gunmen?" Mulder looked over his shoulder. Frohike was taking apart Scully's printer, muttering under his breath about "piece of shit Hewlitt-Packards" while Langly and Byers were arguing, thankfully in whispers so they wouldn't wake the baby, but Langly was throwing wads of paper at Byers, mouthing "Did not!!!"

"Did too!" Byers snapped back, protecting his face from the flying missiles. "Stop that?"

"It shouldn't be a problem," Mulder said calmly to Starkweather. "What do you need them to hunt down?"

"One Imogene Chamberlain... or Imogene Autumn Chamberlain... only use the same address I gave when I asked them to find Autumn Chamberlain."

"Where are you going with this?" Mulder asked her.

Starkweather told him of her encounter with Autumn Chamberlain.

"Wiccan," Mulder mused.... "Starkweather, I want you to call me tomorrow when you get a chance."

"Why?" Instantly hostile.

Mulder sighed. "Starkweather, if you didn't have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Rock of Gilbralter, you would be a completely charmingly young lady. I need to do a little research, brainstorm with Scully a bit..." "Now... where ARE you going with this?"

"I'm thinking Autumn is connected but she doesn't realize it yet."

"Aren't you even worried that my cover may have been compromised?"

"No." Mulder said, at his most irritating and arrogant. "She gave you her word, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but-"

Mulder interrupted, "Well, there you go. Call me."

"Fine." Starkweather rolled her eyes. "I'll call as soon as I'm conscious, Doggett and I will be pulling an all-nighter at the station."

"Just be careful."

"Actually I was thinking about going to the station wearing a white T-shirt with F-B-I in big red letters on the front and a bull's eye on the back."

"I'll have the information on Autumn tomorrow." Mulder hung up on the Hurricane and turned to the Gunmen. "Boys, get out the No-Doz and start popping them like M&Ms." Mulder grinned, back in his element. "I think we may have break in the case and Frohike... I don't know what you did to Scully's printer, but you better have it fixed before-" Mulder heard the front door open. "Too late."

"Nice knowin' ya, amigo," Langly pulled his long blond hair into a greasy ponytail.

But Frohike wasn't paying attention to Langly. "Holy moo cow."

"What?" Mulder asked.

Frohike pointed. "Remember Vegas, boys?"

Mulder, Byers and Langly turned around and saw Reyes standing in the doorway, with Scully piggy-backed on her. Reyes staggered over to Mulder, then turned around. "Take her, she's not as light as she looks," she groaned.

"The party girl returns," Frohike grumbled.

Mulder relieved Reyes of her burden. With her head lolling, Scully looked up at Mulder. "Hi baby!" she squealed.

Mulder shook with surpressed laughter as he bore away the intoxicated agent. "Frohike," he said as he passed him, "I think you've been granted a stay of execution."

Frohike took the hint and started working on the printer

The radio station
11:35 PM Central Time

Doggett, still wearing a FBI-approved dark suit, gray dress blouse and a black and gray and white and dark purple striped tie, was uncomfortably warm. The coat was off, the sleeves were rolled up and the tie was loosened, but it didn't help. Georgia born and Georgia bred, he had grown up with boiling hot days and sultry nights, but as a child, after moving away from Democratic Hot Springs, he had the luxury of living near the Atlantic Ocean. Here in Sioux City, Iowa, there was no ocean to jump into for relief from the humidity. It bordered the Missouri River, but the Doggett doubted anyone could survive its powerful current. He doubted that the Iowans even knew what a beach looked like. As he had staked out the radio station, he had consumed three bottles of Coke and two bottles of water. As he started on his third water bottle, he saw Starkweather drive up the laughably small driveway and park along side him. She looked just as miserably and sweaty as he was. Only she had the luxury of wearing a spaghetti-string tank top and sandals, but she was still imprisoned in jeans, always protecting her secret, her badge, her gun.

She slid out of the crappy car, grabbed her backpack and water bottle, walked around Doggett's rental and tapped on his window.

Annoyed, he rolled the window down and glowered at his partner. "Stawk-weadah," he hissed, "you shouldn't be talkin' to me."

Amused by how he always managed to mangle her last name with his Southern accent, Starkweather leaned up against his car like an Hollywood call-girl and drawled, "Oh, don't worry, darlin'. If anyone from the station sees me talking to you, they'll just think I'm the dumb intern flirting with the FBI guy." She blew him a kiss.

Irritated, he snapped, "Quit it."

Still leaning seductively against the car, she asked in all seriousness, "Any luck?" her voice not matching her body language.

"Not really. Still waiting on Mrs. Meecham to recover from the delivery of her child so I can ask her some questions. Other than that, I've got squat. You?"

Starkweather shrugged. "Well, I've got that party tomorrow night-"

"Poor you," Doggett interrupted with a drawl.

Starkweather glared at him. "For the deceased's brother who's returning to school. It's a long shot, but, judging by the history of the X-Files existence, the long shots are usually the best shots. Anyway, speaking of long shots, I talked to the Deputy Mayor-"

"Lucky you," Doggett quipped for the bickering and rivalry between Starkweather and Mulder were legion.

"Tell me about it. Anyway, he's going to have the Lone Gunmen do a little digging."

Starkweather hesitated, then said carefully, "Now, Doggett, I'm not one for awaking bad memories," she observed his face tensing up, "but I gotta ask..."

"About...?"

"Imogene Chamberlain."

Doggett's face crinkled up in concern. "Yeah, you started to talk to me 'bout that but never finished. What about her?"

"Well, she's all grown up and a student at Rose Hill and she figured out who I am."

Doggett's jaw dropped. "She blew your cover? Starkweather, we need to get you out of here, ASAP."

"No Doggett." Starkweather sighed, "She didn't blow my cover. I said she figured out who I am."

"I don't care," Doggett snapped, pointing his finger at her. "You've been compromised and we need to get you off this case."

"My position has NOT been compromised and I am NOT leaving this case."

"The hell you aren't."

"The hell I am, look," she said, exasperated. "I... I don't know, maybe I've been hanging with Mulder and Scully a little too much lately, but... I feel that this girl is not going to say anything."

"You're partially right," he said. "You have been hanging around Mulder too much lately. Or should I say, the Mulder side of you is comin' out?"

Starkweather bridled, "That hasn't been totally proven yet!!!"

"You're right," Doggett said, "the tests came back ONLY 98.5% positive."

"A test taken by the Lone BallMen," she hissed. "Real reliable. And speaking of reliable, you KNOW I don't do SH*T unless I have either proof or good cause and the truth of the matter is that this girl will A- gain absolutely nothing if she says anything and B- she can help us."

"How?"

"She's Wiccan and we've already determined that there might be an element of the occult and/or alternative religions here. As a practicing witch, she could be an extremely valuable source of information."

"I don't like this," Doggett growled.

"Papa," Starkweather said patiently. "I'm not thrilled either, but it's better than nothing."

Doggett was silent for a minute. "I should really pull you off this case."

"What, and keep all this fun to yourself?" Starkweather held her arms out wide. "Sitting in a hot car, watching a deserted building all by yourself?"

"Whee," Doggett deadpanned. "And it's not completely deserted, the evening guy's still there and the overnight guy's on his way," he said, referring to the disc jockeys.

"Oh that's right," she muttered. "Well... I'll try to get rid of the overnight guy as soon as possible so you can come in and snoop. But if I can't... well, hell, Doggett, you should maybe come in anyway. It's hotter than hell out here."

"Nah," Doggett said. "I'll be fine."

"Phone taps in?"

"They were good to go as of three PM today."

"Rock on," Starkweather ruffled his hair. "I'm goin' in."

"Arrrgghh," Doggett smoothed his hair. "QUIT IT." Seriously he added "And be careful! Don't piss around in there!"

"I'm armed." Starkweather turned to go, but then turned back. "Are you sure about not coming in? It's a radio station, lots of electronics, it's GOT to have air."

"I'll only come in if the deejays leave," Doggett said. Then, to tease, he added "Besides, I'll recover in the morning in my suite at the Hilton."

That little remark completely deflated her. "I hate you," she whined.

"Let's talk about Imogene tomorrow when we're conscious," Doggett said. "Tell your roommate you're going to visit your dad."

"OK old man," she said with a naughty grin, poking fun at their twelve year age difference. As she walked away, Doggett could hear her singing, "Who's your daddy?" Doggett leaned his head against the headrest and groaned.

Starkweather walked up to the front door of the station and discovered that it was locked. "Well, shit," she muttered as she walked around to the back door, which was also locked.

Starkweather went back around and crouched down to tap on the window to FM control. The blinds flew open, the window slid open and a friendly face peered out. "Hey... are you our new intern?"

Starkweather smiled. "Yes I am, my name is Jeri."

"How ya doin' Jeri, my name is.. oh shit," he glanced down at the clock. "Hold on," the "evening guy" went on the air to do the weather break. Then he took his headsets off. "Sorry about that, my name is Elliott Michaels. How long are you going to be working with us?"

"A while," Starkweather stepstepped the question. "Can you let me in?"

"Oh sure, you bet," Starkweather watched Michaels disappear from FM control. A few moments later, the front door swung open. Starkweather stood up, brushing gravel off her jeans. "Come on in," Michaels said. "Did you get a run-through on the board and everything?"

"Yeah, Taran showed me."

"Well, good. Anyway, Ace will be here in a little bit, he's a nice guy." Michaels prattled on as Starkweather followed him down the short flight of stairs and through the very narrow hallway to FM control. "Oh, you might want to check the schedule," Michaels informed her. "Reece is famous for making last minute changes."

"What?" Starkweather turned and looked at the schedule hanging on the closet door. She re-read it. "I'm working a remote tomorrow morning at ten?!?!?" she gasped. <<How am I supposed to talk to Mulder or meet with Doggett tomorrow or go to that kid's welcome back party if I'm incoherent?>> "And what's the dog suit??"

Michaels looked at her, trying to fight a grin. "They didn't tell you about the dog suit?"

"Nobody told me about the dog suit."

"Well... it's our station mascot."

"Station... mas...WHAT?!?!?!"

Michaels laughed. He had a great laugh. "You poor kid," he sympathized with her. "I remember when I first started out, my PD made me dress up as a Boy Scout to interview the Mayor of Omaha." Michaels lifted one hairy leg up and examined it. "I still wished I would have shaved before I gone in."

Starkweather looked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me!! Why?"

"Publicity. It's all about staying in the public eye."

Starkweather had returned to re-examining the schedule. "Whoa, whoa... I'm working tonight... tomorrow morning... then on the air from seven to midnight???? And then I'm supposed to show up for my internship early the next morning??" She turned to Michaels, horror in her hazel eyes. "How'm I supposed to do this?" <<How am I supposed to investigate that kid's murder?>> is what she was really thinking. Michaels smiled sadly and patted her on the back. "We're really short on part-timers."

"Well, I know... but..." Starkweather shook her head. "What was Reece thinking? I mean... I left him a schedule telling him when I was available for on-air..."

"It's okay, I understand," Michaels said. "Let's put it this way... most of our part-timers used Laura Light's murder as an excuse to quit." He sat down in the deejay's chair and pulled out the guest's microphone for her. "Ready for our first break?"

Starkweather, used to succeeding at everything she put her hand on, felt an unfamiliar wave of stage-fright. "What?" "Don't worry, baby," Michaels said, "Everyone sucks the first time they go on the air."

<<Oh God...>> Starkweather quailed to herself. She had been so intent on searching the station for clues, she had forgotten that they actually expected her to go on air....

Doggett, finishing up his fourth bottle of water and reaching into cooler for the fifth, remembered that Starkweather was about to make her maiden voyage into the world of broadcast. He turned his car on, stuck it neutral and welcomed the puff of cold air that came out of the vents. He turned the radio on.

"And in the KRRQ weather center, the forecast brought to you by Moser's Greenhouse... looks like it's going to be another beautiful night in the River City... if you don't mind a temp of 89 with 100% humidity. Slight chance of thunderstorms for the overnight. Sunday looks to be more of the same... hot and humid with a high of 90, with the heat index calling for 103 and a 20% chance for thunderstorms... and for the beginning of the work week, Monday, more heat, more humidity, with a 30% chance for thunderstorms and a high of 95... from Siouxland's weather authority... KRRQ, one-oh-one point three, River Country, the BIG Dawg... I'm Elliott Michaels, getting ready to get out of here and into the air conditioning," Elliott laughed, musical pealing of laughter, "but taking over is our brand new overnight part- timer, Jazzy Star, how're ya doin' Jazzy?"

<<Jazzy?>> Doggett snickered.

There was a considerable pause... "Um... fine... pretty good. Uh, Good... really good, I mean..." Starkweather blurted out uncomfortably.

Doggett shook his head, hoping that this was being recorded somewhere. "Well... good good... so, Jazzy, what's going on for the overnight?"

"Um..." Shufflings of paper were heard over the air waves, "um... well, as always... great country music all night, I mean, overnight long, plus I'm giving away tickets to the... races at Jefferson Speedway... sometime... tonight... this overnight... type of thing..."

Doggett, still laughing about Starkweather's tongue-tied- ness, looked up in time to see a pickup truck rambling into the parking lot. He checked his list of license plate numbers.

<<The overnight guy>> Doggett deduced as he watched him step out of his truck and let himself into the station.

Meanwhile, Michaels was giggling, "Alright, so be sure to stick around. Like I said, Jazzy's brand new, so be sure to call in with your requests and bug her, make sure she stays awake."

A little bit of Starkweather sarcasm slipped through the stage-fright. "Gee, thanks."

"Thirty-five minutes of commercial free country is on the way from KRRQ, one-oh-one point three, River Country, the BIG Dawg..."

Doggett smirked to himself, with thoughts of tormenting his partner dancing in his head... <<say, Jazzy, how much is this worth to you for me to keep this quiet from Mulder?>> Michaels turned off the mike and fired up the first of the set of commercials in one graceful movements of his hands on the sliders. Starkweather covered her red face in abjet mortification with her hands.

It really wasn't THAT bad," Michaels consoled her.

Starkweather glared at him through the slits between her fingers but then instantly felt bad. He seemed like a nice guy. Plus, he wasn't a suspect, he was in Omaha with his wife visiting relatives the night of Candelauria Gallimore's murder. "If you say so," she muttered as Michaels relinquished his seat, gesturing grandly for her to sit down. "You have a pair of headsets?" Starkweather shook her head. "Well, let me go find you one of the spares." Michaels scootched past her. As he went down the hall, he heard him call out "Ace! Howya doin'?"

Starkweather slumped into the deejay's seat, totally dejected. This X-File was NOT going well. They had wasted too much time. She stared up at the computer monitor. The final commercial had aired, the "Top of the Hour" liner had played and Tim McGraw came on: "If all our tears have reached the sea A part you will live in me Way down deep inside my heart The days keep coming without fail A new wind is going to find your sail That's were your journey starts

You'll find better love Strong as it ever was Deep as the river runs Warm as the morning sun Please remember me

Just like the waves Down by the shore I'm goin on coming back for more 'Cause we don't ever want to stop Out in this brave new world, you see Oh the valleys and the peaks And I can see you on the top

You'll find better love Strong as it ever was Deep as the river runs Warm as the morning sun Please remember me

Remember me when you're out walking When snow falls high outside your down Late at night when you're not sleeping And moonlight falls across your floor And I can't hurt you anymore You'll find better love Strong as it ever was Deep as the river runs Warm as the morning sun Please remember me Please remember me..."

"Ick," Starkweather grumbled but the bridge of the song summoned forth unwelcome memories....

A month and a half ago Doggett's apartment Washington DC 1:35 AM Eastern Standard Time It was an oppressively warm summer night. Out on a patio of a ground level apartment, two friends were battling the heat with beer and good conversation.

"But wow... when he's pissed and it's in the heat of the fucking moment," Starkweather said, sitting next to Doggett on the stairs leading up to Doggett's modest patio in back of his apartment. She shook her head, finished off the last sip of warm Bud Light, then reached behind her for another frosty bottle. She gestured to Doggett, holding the beer with her good hand, holding up her useless broken wrist in the air. Doggett popped the top for her. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"You know, it doesn't help ME get over the miscarriage when it's constantly rubbed in my face that it's my fault," she said bitterly. "You know it's not your fault."

"I know that intellectually, but in my heart... I don't know, Doggett. I mean... I wasn't ready for kids, I'm still not so I guess it's a blessing in disguise... I just didn't believe that this was happening to me. I was on the Pill. We were careful. I freaked. I was like, "I'm not ready for this." But then I listened to the heartbeat and I thought "Yes I am. I am so ready for this." But it wasn't meant to be, so I guess I'm really not. Wait, I KNOW I'm not. I can't handle the idea of putting my career on hold again to start a family and I REALLY can't handle losing another baby if Ben and I would start a family. Once is enough. You know?"

Doggett had been silent throughout Starkweather's entire speech, nodded. "Yeah, I do," he thought. "My ex-wife wanted to try for another baby after we lost Luke... but..." he shook his head. "I couldn't. I didn't wanna have a kid just replace Luke, like he was the family dog who we put to sleep and we went and got a new puppy the very next day. But I didn't understand my wife's need to have more children. She didn't see it as replacing Luke. She saw it as mourning and honoring out son and getting on with our lives. Eventually, after a long, messy divorce, she found someone else and last time I talked to her, she has had two little girls with him."

The agents sat in a comfortable silence sipping beer; listening to the sounds of a city alive in the summer night. "Was it really bad?" Starkweather asked after a bit, in a small voice.

"What? The divorce?" Doggett asked, reaching for another beer. Starkweather nodded her head. "Yeah," he said in his typical honesty tempered by a soft Georgia drawl. "It was bad. The last time my wife and I talked, wasn't exactly civil."

"Hm," Starkweather drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. "I wonder if Ben would contest."

"You're talkin' as if it's a done deal, like you've got your mind made up."

(From "Starkweather: Quanta")

Starkweather folded her hands and looked at her naked left ring finger, thinking back to that miserably hot night before everything went crazy with the oil rig case. The outcome of that particular X-Files produced so much guilt, that Starkweather was having trouble now sleeping at night.

"Hi," a soft voice broke into Starkweather's thoughts. She jumped and turned to see who was hovering in the doorway now.

"Hi?" It was more of a question than a greeting. "Are you Ace?"

"Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Ace said shyly, coming around the console to shake her hand. He had sunshine-yellow hair and bright blue eyes like Doggett's, Starkweather noted. "And you must be Jazzy."

Starkweather rolled her eyes. "**Please** call me Jeri."

Ace smiled. "Don't worry about it. I know how you feel. I almost didn't get to pick out my own air name, but I stuck to my guns and Reece gave in." "Why did you pick Ace?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." His mouth was poker- straight, but his eyes were twinkling naughtily.

"Really?" Starkweather drawled, arching an eyebrow, warming up to Ace just a hair. He, also, was not a suspect, he was in Des Moines at the Iowa State Fair with friends when Candelauria Gallimore died.

He finally laughed. "So how are you doing?" he asked seriously. "On air, I mean. Are you okay with running the board and all that?" "Oh, the board is fine," Starkweather looked at the twinkling lights of the computer console and the soundboard. "*I* suck when I actually GO ON the air, but I'm fine with running the board." Again, she propped her chin on her hands and pouted. Starkweather was not used failure.

"You suck??? Why??" Ace asked, leaning on a rack of CDs that were rarely played -- all the music was digitized -- looking at her seriously. "How could you suck? With your sexy voice?" Startled again, Starkweather turned to face him, jaw dropping just a little. She managed to shut her mouth in time before looking like a complete moron, but she felt the uncomfortable heat of a blush heating up her cheeks. "Oh... well.. I don't... I dunno about THAT..." she mumbled while frantically wondering <<Is he hitting on me???>> and painfully aware that her partner was listening to every word through the wire taps.

Doggett, now on his eighth bottle of water and still didn't have to go to the bathroom yet, had undone his sweaty dress blouse, sat in the car in his undershirt and slacks, listening in on the behind the scenes action when Starkweather wasn't on the air:

"So how are you doing? On air, I mean. Are you okay with running the board and all that?" "Oh, the board is fine, *I* suck when I actually GO ON the air, but I'm fine with running the board."

"You suck??? Why?? How could you suck? With your sexy voice?"

Doggett snickered as he continued to listen in on an uncomfortable Starkweather.

""Oh... well.. I don't... I dunno about THAT..." she stammered. He wondered if she was turning red.

"Everyone does bad the first time," Ace consoled her. "If you would hear my aircheck tapes from the first few times I went on air... it was bad. It was really bad..."

"THEY TAPE THESE!?!?!" There was a tinge of panic in her voice.... "Well, sure they do," Doggett listened to Ace say. "Listening to yourself is the one of the best ways that you can improve your performance... other than actually going on the air and just doing it."

<<I have to get a copy of her aircheck tape>> Doggett thought, taking a deep swallow of water. He checked his cooler, he had only seven bottles of water left, plus two bottles of Coke, rapidly warming up. When he had left the Hilton and felt the humidity slap him in the face, he immediately went to the nearest convenience store and stocked up on fluids.

As amusing as the repartee was between Starkweather and Ace, Doggett wished either Ace would do what he need to do and get the hell out so he could come in and snoop around or at least talk to Starkweather about the murder victim. At least get some more information about her. So far, she sounded like a normal college student, but then all the girls killed before her sounded like normal college students. There had to be something more. These girls were not dying just because they were white, female communications majors that all went to the same school. They were missing something.

"Oh, I'll be fine..." Starkweather said. <<Ah ha,>> Doggett thought, <<she's trying to get rid of him>> "I mean... Taran showed me what to do and I'll get the hang of this on-air thing so... Well shoot, it's Friday night, Saturday morning... whatever, I'm sure you've got better things to do than hang out here."

"Well actually no. I've got to get the van prepped for the remote in Ponca tomorrow, then I've got some commercials to cut and there's some other shit I need to do, I've got my own remote tomorrow afternoon... are you just going to sleep upstairs or downstairs?"

"Pardon?"

"Lot of the part-timers crashed in either the spare office down here or in the conference room up there if they were coming off an overnight and had to work the next morning. You have to be in Ponca by ten... so that means you'll probably have to be up by eight-thirty at the latest... do you want to me to wake you up? I have to be up by seven."

"Um... sure... okay..."

Doggett frowned. He didn't like this. Not the part about Starkweather sleeping at the radio station, Lord only knows he had slept in some damn weird spots while he was in the military, the police force and FBI. But he was concerned about the fact that she was only going to get maybe two, three hours of sleep max, then she had to go out to work with the station again. Plus she had that party where the dorm rats were welcoming back Candelauria's brother. When was she supposed to sleep? He needed his partner to be fully alert, not brain-dead from fatigue.

"Plus... well... I kinda figured with what happened to Laura Light... you might not wanna be alone all night."

"Oh, that," Doggett heard Starkweather scoff. "I'm not worried. There's an empty suit out there watching the place."

"The empty... oh, the FBI guy. Yeah I knew that but still... how did you know about him?"

"Oh, I tried to talk to him before coming in to work tonight. No personality whatsoever." "Thanks a lot," Doggett mumbled as he drained his water and reached for the next one like an alcoholic reaching for his beer.

The next morning... Scully's apartment 9:32 PM Eastern Standard Time

William, as always, work up with the sunrise. With a gurgle and a kick of his little legs, he was fully alert and ready to start the day. He still, granted, didn't feel very good, but he was a lot happier than he was a few days ago. He still a little itchy, but his fever had broken in the night, so he was back to his sweet cuddly self. After watching Marvin the Martian mobile (that Daddy had set up for him, much to Mommy's chagrin,) spin around for a little bit, he realized his shorts were wet and his tummy was empty. Time to alert the parents of his needs.

So Will, as always, started to whimper and whine, like he always did every morning. Will's cries scared Scully out of her hungover sleep. She lifted her head and the room still spun. "Ohhhhhh..." she moaned, flopping back over on the bed. She then noticed she was not "in" bed, like a normal person, but lying on her stomach on the foot of her bed, head and arms lolling off the edge. She opened her eyes a little more and noticed a big red bucket underneath her head. She leaned down a little more and peered into it. The smell alone told her she had thrown up a couple of times last night. She recoiled from the bucket and tried to sit up but lay back down instantly for the room was still spinning. <<Oh my God>> Scully suddenly realized where the term "the motherlode of guilt" may have stemmed from <<I'm still drunk>> "Hang on Will..." Scully heaved herself up again, "your unfit mother is coming..."

"Good morning!" Mulder boomed, bursting into the bedroom. Like Will, his fever had broken last night while working with the Lone Gunmen. He still itched, but even that wasn't bad. He hated to admit that Reyes was right and if he was busy and visualizing other things, he didn't even noticed the itching. "Hey, Slugger!" Mulder lifted Will out of his crib. Will instantly stopped crying, like he always did whenever someone picked him up for the first time in the morning. Mulder threw the shades open, blinding Scully.

Scully covered her bloodshot eyes with her hands. "Mulder," she muttered. "What are you doing?"

"Come on, Scully," Mulder teased as he went over to Will's little changing table to get him out of his wet diapers. "It's a beautiful day. I'm feeling better, Boo's feeling better."

"I'm not feeling better," Scully said pathetically.

"Do my ears deceive me?" Mulder scooped a dry and dressed Will in his arms and went to stand over Scully who had just laid back down on her bed. "Is that the sound of the indomitable, knowledgeable Agent Dana Scully... whining? How out of character."

Scully opened one eye and glared at him. Mulder held Will out in front of him. "Don't make me used this."

Will giggled.

"Mulder... I feel terrible. And not just the exhaustion and the throbbing headache and the nausea... I feel like I was being a bad person last night. More like a bad mother. Will needed me and I could barely get out of bed. And not because I was ill or hurt but because I went out drinking."

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you drunk, Scully," Mulder's eyes crinkled up in extreme amusement. "When you got that snake tattoo, I couldn't understand how someone could become so intoxicated that they would lose all of their senses. But seeing Reyes carry you in piggyback last night, made me realize some things about you."

"Agent Reyes carried me in??" Scully gaped in disbelief. "Piggyback? Oh how humiliating." She covered her face with a pillow. "Mulder, just leave me here to die. I know you'll take good care of William..."

Mulder plucked the pillow off of Scully's face. "Don'cha wanna know what I learned about you last night?"

"What, Mulder, did you learn about me last night?"

Mulder leaned close to Scully's face, brushing her hair off her forehead with his free hand. Their noses bumped together, their lips almost close enough for a kiss and Mulder breathed to her:

"You... Agent Dana Scully... are... a lightweight." Grinning, he bounced off the bed with Will before Scully could react. He shut the drapes again. "I'll get you some water Scully, that will help with the cotton-mouth. Come on Will," Mulder crooned to the baby as they left Scully alone in the blessed darkness. "Mommy took care of us while we weren't feeling good and now it's our turn to take care of Mommy 'cause Mommy's a lush..."

Scully groaned. Sometimes... she really almost hated him....

Outside of Monica Reyes' apartment
10:34 am

Special Agent Monica Reyes, drenched in sweat, was jogging towards her apartment complex when she saw the mail truck. The post man was coming down the stairs, carrying a small package. "Miss Reyes!" He called out.

Reyes came up towards him. "Good morning Lewis," she said warmly.

"Have a good night last night?" The friendly mail man asked her.

"Ummmmm..." Reyes gave him her mysterious smile. "I went out with a friend," she told him. "Is that for me?"

"Yes it is, it was overnighted here. I need you to sign for it." He tucked the package under his arm and handed her a clipboard and pen. Reyes hastily scrawled her autograph and accepted the box. "Thanks Lewis." She waved him off with a broad smile and ran up the stairs.

Lewis the mail man shook his head. <<Nice lady, a little odd>>, he thought, like he always did when he delivered mail to her.

The nice yet a little odd federal agent let herself into her slightly cluttered apartment. She sat down at her desk, grimaced at the pile of bills she had yet to address, grabbed her letter opener and sliced the brown paper apart and lifted the lid of the box. She picked up the note that laid on top of the pen that Starkweather stole from Reese's office:

"Reyes, Here's the pen you wanted. You are one weird hushpuppy. Love and sloppy kisses Starkweather"

Reyes shook her head. "Okay..." she said, clenching and unclenching her fists. "Here goes..." She reached into the box and clasped the pen in her hands.

Instantly she felt a shockwave surge up her arm and through her body. She gasped in pain. Guilt, violence, rage, insecurity, suffering, denial and addiction were braided together in a rope of agony that coiled around Reyes' throat. Light-headed, she closed her eyes...

... and saw a young boy bending over a body of a girl in a parking lot behind a split level business building where a radio tower loomed over them. The girl was convulsing and choking. The boy was sobbing.

Reyes dropped the pen. She gulped for air and wiped her face, surprised to find it covered with a cold sweat. She took a napkin, grabbed the pen again and threw it in the trash.

She went to take a cold shower. She dressed in her favorite soft khakis cargo pants and a blue t-shirt. Lacing up her running shoes, she pondered if she should call Fox, but decided she didn't want to deal with his unbearable arrogence unless she more to present to him than just a vision. Plus he probably had enough on his plate with taking care of Dana. Reyes smiled. Dana had been sick twice on the drive from the bar to her home and could barely walk. Served Fox right to have to wait on her hand and foot, after the appalling way he behaved while he was sick.

She grabbed her car keys and cell phone and drove herself to J. Edgar Hoover

Meanwhile
9:40 AM Central Time
10:40 Eastern Standard Time
Ponca, NE

Starkweather stood outside the station vehicle, a sad excuse of a van, which desperately needed a tune-up, with bleary eyes and a pondering headache from lack of sleep. She was helping the mid-morning air personality "The Cowboy" set up the equipment for the parade they were in. And The Cowboy really was an old cowboy, with a nice summer gray Stetson hat, Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots and a sunbeaten face with deep wrinkles. Starkweather had been all set to make fun of him, but the kindness in her eyes stopped her.

During their ride from Sioux City to Hickville USA, (in Starkweather's opinion anyway) they fell into friendly conversation. He was the last of his breed, he had been on the air ever since he was a young man, when radio, although out of it's infancy, was still new and exciting. When the music and the deejays mattered, not the commercials. "Tell you what," the Cowboy told her in his age-perfected country westernized radio voice, "if you're doin' this for love what you do, go into announcing. If you're doin' this for money, go into marketing, 'cause there's no money in announcing. Sales, advertising, that's where the money is now. But marketing isn't as much fun as announcing is. Not by a long shot." Starkweather smiled on the outside and felt guilty on the inside. He was advising her just as he would any young intern on the thresh of leaving the craziness of college behind and to take that bold step into the real world. He probably told Candelauria Gallimore the same thing, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because he was a nice person looking out for the other guy. For the second time on the job, she felt bad about the necessary lie she was living. The first time was when Ace stayed with her longer than necessary, just to make sure "she was okay" and to bolster her sagging self-confidence in her on-air performance. <<What are these guys going to think of me when they find out I'm a fed?>> she wondered as the Cowboy switched gears and started talking about his hobbies. He announced at the smaller rodeos in the Siouxland area. He owned a couple of horses and he was in the middle of a remodeling project in his little farmhouse in the country. His goal in life this year was to snag rock-star seating for the big Hawkeyes vs the Cornhuskers in Iowa City this year. He was a huge Hawkeye fan. (Starkweather grinned at that. Her medical alma mater was in fact, the University of Iowa and she had spent many a weekend at the Hawkeye home game tailgate parties.) Plus, when he didn't have a busy weekend, like he did this weekend, with two remotes today and an early morning remote tomorrow, he liked to take his "lady friend" out to dinner and movie. Nothing special. And what did she like to do when she wasn't being run ragged?

"Well..." Starkweather said, thinking for a moment. <<For fun, I chase after monsters, aliens, nutballs and other things that go bump in the night>> "I play tennis. I like tennis a lot. Um..." She felt like the unprepared kid when asked on the first day of school: 'And what did you do during summer vacation?' 'Nuthin'.' "Let's see..." she stalled, trying to think of things to say that would be true to a single twenty-two year old girl and not a married twenty-eight soon to be twenty-nine woman. "I don't know... school kept me pretty busy" - which wasn't a total lie, since she graduated high school when she was sixteen, did two years of undergrad before she left for the Air Force, finished college and her pre-med studies while in the service for six years, went straight to med school after she leave active duty to go Guard, met Ben, went to Quantico, got married, graduated from Quantico, went to Minneapolis, transfer to DC.

Starkweather realized she really didn't have much of a life outside of school and work. "It's pretty sad, really," she finished lamely. "I really don't do much, except work."

"Well," the Cowboy said thoughtfully, "as long as you enjoy what you do..." he drove the van to the school where the other floats and classic cars were lining up for the parade.

Which was how Starkweather ended up outside trying to hook up stereo equipment. As he easily lifted the speakers on to the roof of the van (his strength was hidden by his lanky frame) the Cowboy told her, "We won't be using the Marti-"

<<The what??>> Starkweather wondered.

"-so I'll just be making drops with the cell phone. Can you get up onto the roof alright? I'll be sure to drive slow."

"The roof?" Starkweather looked up at the van. <<Da roof... da roof... da roof is on fire... why the hell do I have to get on the roof??>> "Oh, shouldn't be a problem."

"Do you want to get in the dog-suit before or after you climb up?" Starkweather closed her eyes in real agony. She had forgotten about the station mascot suit that they required her to wear. It was twenty to ten and the day was already blistering hot. And she was still in the same outfit she had worn to the station last night, a clingy tank top with spaghetti straps, her sandals, her jeans and her gun, still carefully strapped to her ankle. "After."

Even though she was dead tired and boiling hot, her analytical brain was going in two directions at once, as always. As she scurried up the van, she listened to the Cowboy's directions on how the mascot "The BIG DAWG" was expected to behave. Meanwhile, she thought desperately: Michaels had an alibi, Ace had an alibi, Reece, the Cowboy, Taran, the sales people, everyone at the station had an alibi and yet Candelauria's murder HAD to be an inside job. It HAD to be committed by some one who knew the station, knew it well enough to hide somewhere until the girl was alone. Also there was the pesky matter of Imogene Autumn Chamberlain to deal with, which only intestified the situation between her and Doggett right now. He had already said he thought she should step down, back off and go back to DC because he believed she hadn't emotionally recovered from the fiasco with Ben and that damn oil rig. How was this situation going to help anything? To show Doggett that her judgement was still trustworthy???

The Cowboy handed her the big brown fuzzy feet of the mascot uniform. Starkweather could have wept.

She put on the giant dog feet and stared woefully down, holding out her hands for the rest of the suit. Feeling stupid, she took the doggie shoes off again, put the suit on and put the feet on again. The suit was wool and had a huge fake puppy belly. She didn't know HOW she was getting off so easy, all these humiliating moments and Mulder wasn't around to ridicule her. She wondered if Doggett would, as the saying goes, let the cat out of the bag about the dog suit and Jazzy Star and her stint as a Britney Spears wannabe.

She had a sinking feeling the Puppy Man and Spooky were going to go out for beers and trade war stories when they came back to DC.

The Cowboy handed her the head of the suit, a giant stupid looking dog head, complete with fuzzy black floppy ears and a big red tongue.

"Just stand and wave, that's all you gotta do," the Cowboy said as he stared up at her. "Don'cha got shorts or something? It's gonna get real hot in there."

Starkweather was already real hot, but what could she do? She had a FBI ID in her back pocket and a gun strapped to her ankle. It wasn't like she could strip or anything....

A brainstorm hit. Starkweather wriggled around in the suit. The Cowboy watched her, puzzled. Suddenly, a bare arm popped out of the neck of the suit and Starkweather's tank top went sailing. The Cowboy caught it on the fly and stared up again at Starkweather as she put her arms back through the dog suit and popped the head on.

"You women do amazing things," he said in awe before he got into the van to join the parade already in progress.

Starkweather had many a miserable moments in her past and would have many a miserable moments in the future, but this miserable moment would be the most memorable.

If someone would had told her that, in the name of duty, she would be standing on top of a moving vehicle, waving to screaming kids in a dog suit, she would have pointed her finger at them and laughed her butt off. Now, in the miserable August heat that plagues the majority of the Midwest, Starkweather forced her arm to wave as the suit weighed down on her. It reeked something fierce inside the mascot suit as well and Starkweather clamped her lips together so she wouldn't throw up. Fortunately the parade was in a small town, therefore the parade route was short and the van careened merrily away at it's snail's pace off of Main Street and into Residentia. Some kids, playing with a garden hose and Super Soaker water guns, noticed the radio station vehicle putzing towards them. They looked up at the fuzzy brown figure on top of the van. "LOOK, IT'S THE BIG DAWG!!!!" one of the boys, the fat one with a mop top of brown curls, hollered, pointing his water gun at the mascot. The other boys followed suit and began to shoot water at the van and its passengers.

Before Starkweather could take evasive action, the Cowboy swerved the van away from the horrendous little urchins so they where out of range of the water guns and hose. He went slow enough that Starkweather did not fall off the van, but he did drive underneath a row of trees... which meant all the branches hit Starkweather in the head as he drove past. Fortunately, she was still wearing the doghead-shaped halmet over her own head so she was not hurt, just scared to death as all of a sudden branches and leaves started coming at her.

Doggett... meanwhile, had been following the van as a passenger in the float right behind them, which was a pick- up truck pulling a flatbed wagon filled with hay and Girl Scouts throwing candy to the crowds. He folded his arms across his chest and shook with suppressed laughter as he witnessed the antics ahead of him.

The Cowboy backed up the van (causing Starkweather to fall on her gluteus maximus) to glare at the kids and to issue a warning. His normal drawl turned into the Voice of God: "YOU KIDS BETTER KNOCK THAT OFF."

The boys quailed, still innocent enough because of their sheltered small town life to be intimidated by adults. "Yes sir," they quivered as the Cowboy took off.

When they were away from the wretched boys, the Cowboy pulled over to the side, parked and got out. "You okay up there?" he asked.

Starkweather was laying on her stomach, clinging to the luggage rack on top of the roof. "I'm fine," she said in a high unnatural voice, completely terrified.

The odd thing was... Starkweather had never been afraid of heights before that incident. Doggett shook his head as he watched the Cowboy help her down. As funny as the entire situation was... and as much fun he planned on having when he shared this, along with her painfully awkward on-air work, with Mulder and Scully... he worried about the case's progress... they were still no closer to finding Candelauria's killer and time was running out....

He was pretty confident Starkweather had her pantyhose in a knot about the case as well. She was one of those people who if she didn't have something to bitch about... she wasn't completely happy....

12:14 PM Central Time Bob's Bar Martinsville, NE

The Cowboy, with much reservations about leaving her alone, dropped her off at Bob's Bar, a tiny hole in the wall pine knot affair.

"It's okay, my dad's meeting me from Omaha here." Starkweather lied through her teeth. "We've got family here."

"Alright," the Cowboy said, not kosher on the whole idea of leaving a diminutive lady at not such a fine establishment, but she was no child either, so he knew he couldn't force the issue. "Alright then, see you later."

The minute the station vehicle disappeared, Doggett stepped out of the car he was crouching down in. "You look like hell," he told her bluntly.

"Nice to see you too." She said sweetly, "You know, not all of us get to f art through silk sheets at the Hilton while on assignment."

"Let's get somethin' to eat," Doggett let her smart-assed remark sally right over his head. "And talk about this case."

"'Kay," Starkweather said and followed him into Bob's Bar.

Two dirty looking rednecks were bellied up to the bar. They, along with portly woman tending bar, eyed them suspiciously as they sat down at a corner table as far back as they could get.

The cigarette smoke was so heavy it was almost tangible. The floors were dirty, there were no pictures on the wall. There were two pool tables with torn felt in the back, but there wasn't much of a "back" to the bar. One walked into the door, looked to the immediate left and there was the bar and the barstools, to the right, a wall. In front, three or four tables with chairs (all with ripped vinyl) scattered hither and yon and then the two tables directly behind the tables. "Do you take all your partners to such elaborate dining establishments, or am I just lucky?" Starkweather plopped down in her chair.

"Well, maybe next time we'll go somewhere nicer if some agents wouldn't max out our FBI credit cards," Doggett drawled back to her.

"Cheap shot."

The rotund maiden behind the bar squeezed herself out and waddled over to Doggett and Starkweather. She pulled out a grimy pocket notepad and a stub of a pencil. "Wha'cha want?" she asked.

"Could we see menus please?" Doggett asked politely.

"We got hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fish burgers, fries, cheeseballs and fried mushrooms."

"Can I have a salad?"

"Starkweather, shut up," Doggett snapped at her. He turned to the surly woman in overalls. "We'll have two cheeseburgers, a side of fries, a side of cheeseballs, two glasses of water and cuppa coffee for the ray of sunshine over there."

The lady hesitated. "They're kinda big portions."

"We'll take any leftovers with us." When the woman sloughed off, Doggett glared at his partner. "You need to get your act together."

"Kiss my ass." Starkweather snapped. She dropped her voice to a whisper, "My act is fine. I'm just fucking tired, sick of this BS, I wanna get this case wrapped up 'cause I want out of this stinky hellhole of a city and I wanna go home." "So," Doggett said, "Let's compare notes and get rolling on this....

Starkweather ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. "Well, you know I've got a big ball of nothing... tell me what you've got?"

Doggett crossed his arms. "An interview with Alice Meecham in three days."

"About damn time," Starkweather said disgruntled, "but why three? Why not tomorrow? Or today? Or yesterday?"

"The woman nearly died in labor." Doggett said. "I practically had to beg the doctor to let me talk to her. She's supposed to be on bed rest."

"I dunno..." Starkweather muttered. "Unless Reyes and Mulder come up trumps with something... I'm having trouble connecting this to witchcraft, the occult or anything supernatural..."

"Wha'cha got cooking in that big brain of yours?" Starkweather gestured to him to hand her his briefcase. When he put it on the table, she popped it open and took out the autopsy pictures and toxicology reports. "I don't know man... it doesn't make sense. Ever since Mulder told us cause of death was by choking on bodily fluids on not by strangulation... seriously... all of these pictures look like classic case of OD on heroin." "Heroin?"

"Ever see the movie 'Pulp Fiction'?"

"No."

"Oh, I forgot, you live under a rock. Okay, we all know that you're supposed to snort coke and shoot up heroin, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, well, it's a shame that you never saw the movie because there's a pretty damn realistic scene where a chick snorts heroin and nearly dies. It's quite horrific. And, by just looking at these pictures and reading the reports... all of the victims... sound like they snorted heroin and died from that..." her voice trailed off in doubt.

"But the tox came back clean."

"That's what doesn't make sense. That and the slime. That's just weird... if it wasn't for the slimy shit, I'd theorize the possibility of a drug ring of a new narcotic that's not detectable in our standard tox exams."

"You still think it's an inside job?"

"Yes." Starkweather said without hesitation. "The profile I created from information gleaned from all the killings make that crystal clear. Whoever murdered these girls or gave them substances that killed them has exclusive inside knowledge of the station. Someone working there's guilty as sin."

"Well," Doggett said. "we agree on that. Problem is... who? Everybody's got an alib- holy crap."

Starkweather turned around and her jaw dropped. "Jiminy Christmas..." The waitress, on a giant serving tray had brought out their meals. The hamburgers were the size of the plate and at least a quarter-inch thick. The buns they used to sandwich the meat were ridiculously small, the size of normal hamburger buns. The sides were the same unbelievably large portions. Four people could have lunched off the side of fries and there would still be left overs. The same went for the cheeseballs.

"Guess she wasn't kidding about the portions bein' big." Doggett said after the waitress had put the food on their table and scuttled off.

"I feel my arteries hardening by just LOOKING at this..." Starkweather said.

Meanwhile...
J Edgar Hoover Federal Building
The Records Room

"Eureka!" Monica Reyes had always wanted to say that when she had discovered a link to a case. But now, alone in the quiet room lined with multitudes of dusty file cabinets and computers and the antiquated microfiche machines, she only felt like a moron.

Still, that didn't stop her from excitedly printing the old case file and taking it down to the X-Files offices. She sat down at Doggett's desk since no one had really gotten around to getting a desk of her own yet. That really didn't bother her though. She never saw herself as a "desk" kind of person. Besides, if she had a desk, they might expect her to turn in her case reports on time, so why tempt fate?

She read the case thoroughly once, which took a full hour, then again very quickly, which only took fifteen minutes. She picked up Doggett's phone and dialed Scully's number.

Despite the splitting headache, Scully was determined to show Mulder that she was not "a lightweight." She had already showered and dressed when Reyes called. "How are you feeling Dana?" Reyes asked warmly.

"Fine," Scully lied as she washed down two aspirin with water. "Reyes, I'm sorry, I acted disgracefully last nigh-"

"Dana," Reyes chuckled. "I used to live in New Orleans. I've seen much worse. I'm glad to hear that you're feeling better, but actually I called to speak to you and Fox. I think I found a connection, a possible break in the Sioux City case."

"Really?" Scully walked out of her bedroom and into the little dining area where her computer was kept. Sitting down she said, "Let me get Mulder on the phone. Hold on," she covered the receiver with her hand. "MULDER!" Mulder came out of the kitchen, carrying Will. He handed Will to her and said, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Mulder, Agent Reyes is on the phone-"

"Goody."

"-and she thinks she may have a possible connection to the Sioux City case."

Mulder went back into the kitchen to get the other cordless phone. He came back with the phone cradled in-between ear and shoulder, leaning against the door frame, watching Will pounding on the keyboard with his tiny little fists. "Will, no no. That's not a toy." "Agent Reyes, good morning," Mulder said as Scully situated Will in the crook of her arm and gave him a squishy toy to occupy his attention with.

Back at the X-Files office, Reyes was using the scanner at Doggett's desk. "I'm scanning the case file so I can email the specifics to you both, but I'd thought I'd give you a run-down of what I found."

"Shoot," Mulder said watching Will throw his toy on the floor. He crossed to him, picked the toy back up and handed it to him. Will promptly threw it again and giggled. "I am not a dog, son," he said with a sigh as he went to retrieve the toy again.

"Pardon?"

"Not you Agent Reyes," Scully explained as she handed Will a different toy to play with. "Will is playing fetch with Mulder. What did you find."

"The interesting thing about this case that I found is that it's NOT an X-File."

"Then how is it connected?" Mulder asked as he gave Will the toy back to him again, which Will tossed again. "Kid, come on, give me a break," Mulder whined.

"I'm trying to give you a break."

"Not you Agent Reyes," Scully said again. "Will again. What's the case you found that you believe might be the connection?"

"Well, it's a run of the mill drug bust, but who is involved is what makes it interesting and makes me wonder..."

"Who's involved?" Scully asked..... "Remember that case I told you about that Arthur Dale was sent to Sioux City for?" Reyes asked the partners.

"Yeah," Mulder said, "the Wiccans who were unjustly accused of cattle mutilation. Dale's work cleared their names."

"Well, about two months later, one of the girls, an..." Reyes riffled through her papers, "Elizabeth Cash, was found dead at the KRRQ studios' parking lot. According to the autopsy, she OD'ed on heroin."

"Heroin..." Mulder mused. "Scully... correct me if I'm wrong-" "Don't worry, I will."

Mulder glared at Scully. He -- or so he assumed -- had worked really hard all morning to be nice to her hung-over ass. "Heroin is a drug to be injected, right?"

"Yes, typically."

"To be injected, the drug must be boiled down into it's liquid form, right?"

"Yes... where are you going with this?" "Humor me Scully. When heroin is in a powdered form... does it or does it not resemble cocaine?"

"Yes?" "Scully, what are the effects of snorting heroin instead of shooting it up?" Mulder caught Will's toy this time on the fly. "Ah ha!!" Mulder grinned at the baby. "Scully, I think this kid has a chance of playing for the Yankees."

"Um...." Scully was too busy trying to make her foggy brain operate. "Well... death is usually the outcome of such drug usage. Typically the body goes into overload, the heart rate goes berserk, there's pulmonary distress, unconsciousness, coma..."

"Choking?" Mulder asked her idly as he played with the baby. "On bodily fluids?"

"Sometimes..." Scully said warily, feeling a Mulder-theory hovering above her... "but... what does that have to do with anything?"

"Reyes, what was it that you said about the credo of Wicca? To paraphrase wasn't it "And do unto others as you want done unto yourself?"

"Basically," Reyes said, secretly thrilled that Mulder noted the connection that she found. "Like I said, most credible religions believe in the "Golden Rule.""

"But there's something else... the laws of three... 'And what you do to others shall be returned to you threefold?'"

"Mulder..." there was a warning note in Scully's voice. "What if this is it, Scully? The law of three? What if the girl who OD'ed came back somehow-"

"MULDER!" Now there was total exasperation in her voice.

"Well, wait, Scully, hear me out. This girl, this girl dies at the station right? Now, she had to get her drugs somewhere, so what if her dealer worked for the station. He gives her bad dope, she dies, the afterlife is not all that for her, she wants retribution for the dealer who's still free and probably still at that station. Even Starkweather herself is adamant that the killings are an inside job, that it HAS to be someone who has exclusive knowledge of the station-"

"Mulder-" "Scully, think about. Three times three. We even said it in our power conference call a few days ago, the killer is preaching. The killer is sending out a message. The message, Scully, is justice. Find the person who killed Elizabeth Cash and the killings stop."

"Mulder... are you implying that a **ghost** is killing these girls, simply to get our attention?"

"Worked, didn't it? Got my attention. How about you?"

"Mulder..." Scully took a deep breath. "As neatly wrapped as your theory is packaged, it is seriously flawed. Based on my few experiences with ghosts and that was mostly in that haunted house you dragged me to at Christmas, ghosts do not have a physical body to commit physical harm Mulder- "

"There's all different kinds of ghosts, Scully. And this one actually left a trail."

"A trail?"

"The pink goo. The ectoplasm."

"The WHAT!?!?! Mulder, that is a made up word from a movie!!! Last time I checked, I was not assigned to the "Ghostbuster" Division of the Federal Bureau of Investigation!" At this point, Reyes had put her phone on "Speaker" and continued to scan the papers of the report with a sigh. "Whenever you feel like getting back to me," she murmured with a smile as Mulder and Scully continued to banter back and forth about the possibilities that were out there...

KRRQ studios
9:15 PM Central time

Starkweather twirled around in the deejay's chair, bored. Bored and tired more like it. She kept eyeing the autographed bow and fiddle that was mounted on the wall while she twirled.

She needed a release. Now. After she and Doggett had nibbled through their massive meal at Bob's Bar, they had brainstormed until Starkweather had to go back to the station. Before Doggett took her back to Sioux City, they made one futile phone call to Mulder and Scully, but no one was answering at Mulder's and Scully's phone line was tied up. Hopefully the original "Moose and Squirrel" were cooking up a recipe that made sense with the ingredients that were handed to them. But Starkweather highly doubted it.

She chewed on a pen cap, turning her back to the computer console. She was not broadcasting live, but actually just monitoring the computer as it received the feed to a satellite show they aired every Sunday night. She only had to break in twice an hour to do the weather. Which left lots of time to think.

And snoop. Which she and Doggett did for the two hours she was there and came up with a whole lot of nothing. The doors to all the important offices were locked and all the computers that were out and about to access all had security codes that Starkweather wasn't given. That wasn't a problem, Doggett put in a call to the Lone Gunman and they, happy as always to have a project, said they'd get right on it.

They had given up around eight o'clock and Doggett went back to his car and Starkweather had plunked down in the deejay's chair and sat and listened to bad bad country music. Then she was to go back to the dorms and get ready for the welcome back party for Candelauria's brother who was returning back to summer school after the death of his sister. Which meant she MIGHT get to bed at four at the very earliest, then she had to be at the station.... Starkweather closed her eyes, fighting fatigue. She opened her eyes again and again eyed the violin.

"Oh well," she said with a shrug. Music always helped her think. That is... good music. She wheeled the chair up against the wall. She stood up on the wobbly chair and reached for the violin. "What are you doing???"

Starkweather gasped in fright and started to fall.

Ace rushed in and caught her. "Jesus," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that." He put her down, and backed away, awkwardly. "But what the hell where you doing up there?"

"I was getting that," she pointed at the fiddle.

Ace's jaw dropped. "That's autographed by Charlie Daniels!"

"Who?"

Ace covered his eyes in despair. "Oh brother." He looked at her again. "How did you get this job?"

"Search me," Starkweather said seriously.

"'The devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin' for a soul to steal'" Ace quoted for her.

A bell went off in Starkweather's head. "'He was in a bind, he was way behind...' oh I know that song. Good song. I can play that you know."

"Play what?" "The fiddle solos on that song."

"You're shittin' me." "Girl scouts honor. Put the song on a CD player and I'll prove it."

Ace's blue eyes were twinkling. "NO body can play that solo better than Charlie Daniels himself and I saw him in concert live." Ace lost himself with his memories. "I got to meet him backstage."

"Was he nice?"

"He was in a hurry. We posed for a picture, he signed the violin for the station and was whisked off to his hotel." Ace went to pop in a CD the only CD player in the station. It could broadcast music over the air, but it was utilized only when a really old and rarely requested song was in the playlist for the day. Ace reached up and got the bow and fiddle down and handed it to her. Starkweather blew the dust off the strings. He cued up the CD players, switched a button on the board so the CD player would play in "cue" that is, the music would only be heard in the studio and not the rest of the broadcasting area. "Okay hot shot," Ace said, sitting down in the chair in the corner. "Prove it."

Starkweather cradled the fiddle under her chin and punched play. The music blared and Starkweather kept up with Charlie Daniels' fiddling, even the part where the "Devil" was playing, where it sounded like the music itself was from the bowels of hell.

"'I done told you once, you son-of-a-bitch," Starkweather said along with the music, "'I'm the best there ever is...'"

Doggett, meanwhile, back in his car, shook his head. The woman never failed to surprise him, but it wasn't helping them solve the case any faster.

I'll be damned," Ace said, immensely impressed. "How long did it take you to learn that song?"

"Um..." Starkweather looked at her watch. "How long did it take me to play that?"

Ace's jaw dropped again. "You are seriously messing with me." He said. "That was NOT the first time you've played that!"

"Um..." Now Starkweather was embarrassed. Her intellect, she never had any problems bragging about. Her musical abilities although she loved to show them off, explaining them always unnerved her. "Yeah... if I hear a song, I can play it."

"Who gave you music lessons?"

Again, Starkweather squirmed. "Nobody." "Nobody?"

"I just sort of picked it up... along the way."

"How do you 'just' pick up the violin?" For Starkweather, learning the violin had been just that, she literally picked up her cousin's violin when they were visiting her mother's sister in Boston and played a flawless rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" after hearing her twelve year old cousin scratch it out. Starkweather had been seven at the time.

To change the subject, she said, "I don't play a lot of country though, I play classic stuff. Sometimes I like to play themes from movies."

"Which movies?"

"Have you seen 'Schindler's List'?"

"Good movie."

Starkweather put the instrument to her chin again and began to play the solo from Steven Spielberg's powerful film about the Holocaust. As the instrument was transformed from a fiddle to a violin Ace stood stock-still, mesmerized by the haunting music while Doggett in his car outside found himself strangely moved by the song's tragic beauty.

Meanwhile, Starkweather had lost herself in the music, completely. Mind washed away from all care, all worry, all apprehension, she let herself go into the power of the music, living for the moment, living for the inspiration. Feeling her fingers and arms create something that could influence and dominate the mortal heart, for the power of invoking emotions through stimuli via visuals like a painting or audio such as music is what raised humans above all animals. Starkweather felt the stress leave her body, felt her mind clear, felt the fatigue evaporate from her very being.

Perhaps it was a trick of her overwrought mind, perhaps it was sleep deprivation. Perhaps through music, Starkweather had unwittingly opened the doors to her spiritual side. She had been playing with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she turned her head to the side to crack her neck, a habit that annoyed her partner. She looked out the window and gasped again in fright.

"What?" Ace was instantly concerned. Doggett, meanwhile, was getting out his gun.

"There's something out there," Starkweather said in a trembling voice as she clearly saw the outline of a face and a pair of glowing eyes in the glass of the window pane.... Ace looked out the window. "I don't see anything honey," he started to say, but Starkweather pushed past him and ran up the stairs. Ace, after checking the time before the next commercial break, followed her.

Meanwhile Doggett had bolted from the car, gun out, running towards the station. He got to the door when Starkweather threw it open.

"WHOA!" Ace said when he saw the gun.

"It's okay, it's okay," Doggett said, putting the gun down, but not away. "I heard a commotion inside. What happened?"

"I saw someone looking in the window." Starkweather said, voice still shaking. "I saw a face, staring eye level at me."

"Jeri," Ace said gently. "We're in the basement. That ain't possible."

"Sir," Doggett said politely. "Anything is possible in ou-" Doggett coughed to cover up his pronoun blunder. "My division. Stay here. I'm gonna have a look around."

Starkweather longed to come with him. She also longed to feel the butt of her gun in her hands, but had to be content to feel its coolness again her leg. She crossed her arms and shivered, despite the heat, despite the light. "Maybe I am seeing things," she mumbled.

"You haven't been gettin' a lot of sleep lately." Ace said. "Your eyes must be playing tricks on you." "Maybe..." But Starkweather looked down at the window again.

Ace watched the color drain from her face, her eyes widen in disbelief. "What is it?" he asked her.

Starkweather tried to speak but her voice came out in a croak. She tried again but it only came out in a whisper. "Look," she raised her arm and pointed, hand shaking worse than her voice.

Ace looked, took a few steps towards the window, then backpedaled quickly. He took Starkweather by the shoulders and gently pushed her away from the building.

Starkweather, no wilting weeping willow by any means, was grateful for Ace's steady nature. He had a bad fright, like Starkweather but he wasn't hysterical or panicking.

"Agent Doggett!" he yelled in a normal, yet slightly insistent tone. "C'mere!"

Doggett trotted back to them. "What is it." "Look," Starkweather had regained her voice and pointed at the window.

Doggett crouched down and examined the windowpane. "Oh my God..."

The windowpane was completely covered in a slimy translucent substance with just the slightest pink tinge. Doggett turned back to his partner and the deejay. "You sure this wasn't here before?"

"Positive," Starkweather said forcefully. "I TOLD you, I saw a face in the window and I ran out of the studio..."

"Oh shit," Ace realized. "The clock said we had two minutes before break..." Ace checked his watch. "I'll be right back," he ran back inside giving Starkweather a chance to talk to Doggett frankly.

"Doggett, I swear to God," she whispered. "I was not hallucinating. I am not overtired and my mind is not playing tricks on me. I saw a god damned face in the window with glowing blue eyes."

"Well, I didn't see a face, but I see that shit," Doggett gestured towards the window. "I'm gonna get samples and ship it to Quantico." "Email me the results and Scully's take on this whole mess."

"Have you had a chance to talk to Mul-dah?"

"No." But that was all the further Starkweather could say for Ace had come back out.

"Can I talk to you in private, sir?" Ace asked Doggett.

Doggett looked at Starkweather, who arched an eyebrow, very Scully-like, but didn't say anything. "Sure," he said to Ace and they walked away from Starkweather.

Ace lit a cigarette, inhaled and asked Doggett point blank. "Look, is it safe for her to be here?" he asked, genuinely concern. "I mean, the guy who killed Laura Light could be a serial killer, right? Should I just send her home?"

Doggett was asking himself the same question. "I don't know," he said vaguely.

"Look, I can take over for her, that's no big deal. I do the overnight type of thing anyway, so I'd just be clocking in earlier than usual. Once I explain things to the GM and PD, they'll understand."

Doggett was undecided. Whatever Starkweather saw, it could come back. He was convinced that she saw SOMETHING. She was too pale and too rattled NOT to have seen something. What concerned Doggett was her lack of sleep. She still had that welcome back party to go to for Candelauria's brother plus she had to get up to come back to the station tomorrow.

But if he sent her back to the dorms as if she was a weak, dumb female, she was going to be livid.

<<Too bad>> Doggett decided. Whether she liked it or not, he had seniority over her, he was officially in charge of the investigation and to be point-blank, he was incredibly worried about her safety at the moment. Whatever the killer was, it was going after young women. He was going to pull rank and damn the consequences with his partner. "Will they understand if I told you to tell them that I don't want her near this place until I give say so?"

Ace sighed. "They won't like it, but they'll understand."

"They better understand," Doggett said. "I don't think it'll help their ratings if another girl gets killed, do you?"

Ace glared at Doggett. "I said THEY wouldn't like it. I don't give a rat's ass about ratings. I'm overnight. Arbitron doesn't factor the overnight shift into the ratings. I **knew** Laura, she was a nice girl. I was one of her pallbearers. Jeri's a nice girl too and you know what? I'm tired of bein' a pallbearer at nice girls' funerals."

Doggett walked away from Ace, "Go home," he told Starkweather.

Starkweather's eyes about fell out of her head. She opened her mouth to protest but in the midst of male chivalry at its worst and best, she clamped it shut tightly and folded her arms. "I have to get my things from downstairs," she said icily and turned on her heel.

"That went well," Doggett sighed. "Go in with her to make sure she's okay." Doggett didn't know if the thing could lurk inside the station undetected or not, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Before Ace could go in though, Starkweather was already out, carrying her backpack.

"And stay home tomorrow. That's an order," Doggett said, hoping she would catch the double meaning.

She did, and she was pissed, as predicted. "Yes sir," she said coldly, infuriated that she was being cut out of the action. She climbed into her beat-up car and drove away.

Doggett closed his eyes. "I'll sit with you tonight," he said wearily. "But I have to make a private phone call. Will you be okay alone?"

Ace shrugged. "No pyschos tryin' to kill me. But if it's all the same, if you want to make your call in private, why don't you call from inside your car? I'll just hang outside and have another cigarette. It's twenty-five minutes until the next break."

So Doggett got back into the car to call Starkweather and explain why he sent her home.

Before he could even speak, the first words out of her mouth were: "Fuck you, man." Doggett groaned.

Meanwhile... Outside of Scully's apartment 10:32 PM Eastern Standard Time

Scully shut her car door with a groan. She had just spent the last six hours with Agent Reyes, going over her findings with the case. Although she had told Mulder shortly before William was born, that he gave her the courage to believe, Scully still had a long ways to go. Aliens? Yes, she was convinced of the existence of extraterrestrial life. Ghosts? That was harder for her to swallow. But she and Reyes did come to a solid conclusion that the death of Elizabeth Cash was connected. The similarities between her death and the death of the other victims could not be ignored. Plus, Elizabeth had been part of the "coven" (for lack of a better word) that Arthur Dales helped save, along with Alice Meecham. Reyes sent Doggett an email to be sure and ask Alice Meecham about her friend Elizabeth Cash. Reyes did not tell Scully about her vision of the boy she saw weeping over Elizabeth's body, but she did say she would not be surprised if Elizabeth had an intimate relationship with someone who was directly tied to the station. Which Scully could accept. The only problem was who? And even if they got a name, most everyone there used air names. Scully wondered if the X-Files was just the new millenium's replacement for "Mission:Impossible."

Scully trudged up the walk and the small flight of stairs that lead to her apartment. She grateful that they were finally making some headway on this case. She was extremely grateful that Mulder and William were finally feeling better. The spots had finally faded from Mulder's face, although he still had them everywhere else. But he swore up and down they didn't itch anymore. And dear little William was his sweet cuddly self again. Which made her very happy. However, she also was very tired. Tired from the days of sheer hell of tending to the two "sickies", tired from researching the case, tired from her night of partying with Reyes. She craved her bed. She fantasized about sliding in- between her cool sheets and falling into the deep nothingness of total and complete surrender to sleep.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen tonight....

Scully's apartment was almost completely dark when she let herself in. But she couldn't help notice a soft light emanating from her living room, so, putting her purse and briefcase down and kicking off her shoes, she padded into the living room soundlessly.

Mulder was sprawled out in her easy chair, as if he was asleep, one long leg draped over the arm of the chair, the other long leg stretched out in front of him. But Scully must not have been as quiet as she thought she was for he lifted his head when she came into the room. He raised his arms, clasped the back of the chair with his hands and gave her a sweet half-smile with a "Come hither" look in his eyes.

"Mulder?" Scully asked.

"What is it Scully?" he returned the question with a question all too innocently.

"It's just that... you're dressed."

Mulder had finally shed the pajamas bottoms he had been living in for the past few days that he had been sick. He had put on a nice shirt and a pair of well loved jeans. And, instead of another oatmeal bath, he had actually taken a shower and used soap, now, instead of smelling like hot cereal, he smelled deliciously clean. He even shaved, which in Scully's opinion, was about damn time. His arms were still dotted with the ugly sores but again, Scully was grateful that they no longer marred his face.

"Yeah," Mulder said as he quietly observed the petite woman before him, wearing a pair of black dress slacks, a thin, short-sleeved midnight blue blouse and the tiny golden crucifix that always hung on a golden chain around her neck. She was letting her hair grow longer, he noted and he liked how it looked. "I finally feel like a human being again."

"Did Boo go to sleep alright?"

"No problem. Out like a light."

"You didn't have to wait up for me."

Mulder held out his hand. "I know. I wanted to though." Scully slipped her tiny hand into his big one and allowed herself to be pulled towards him, to be drawn into his lap, to rest her head on his chest, to let him stroke her hair without protest. "Did you and Reyes make any progress on the case?" he asked idly as he began to play with her hair, watching it change to many shades of flame as he combed through it with his fingers and watched it fall from his hand, dancing in the lamplight.

Scully closed her eyes. "Mmm... I think so, and Mulder, I'm sorry, but I'm not finding any real evidence of possible supernatural phenomenon. I'm more inclined to believe that this is the actions of a very disturbed individual, possibly involved with drugs, who is using the mythology and stereotypes of the Wiccan religion as a cover for his-" "Sh, sh, sh," Mulder hushed her, now resting his cheek against her head. "Scully, if you bring up the case, I'm going to have to start arguing with you and I don't feel like arguing right now."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I asked if you and Reyes if you had made any progress. That's a close-ended question. A yes or no type of thing."

"MMMmmm... but Mulder, you know I don't just say yes or no. So again, why did you ask?"

"I was being polite."

"Since when?"

"That hurts my feelings Scully," he murmured as he kissed the back of her head, then worked downwards, moving her hair so he could kiss the nape of her neck oh so delicately, then down to the crook between her shoulder and neck where he rested his head.

Scully reached around with her arm and cradled his head. Now she was the one running fingers through hair. "So," she said, "if you were just being polite and really didn't want to hear about the case tonight, why are you dressed and waiting for me?"

But Mulder didn't answer, he was too busy working on the buttons of her blouse and Scully didn't fight him. She just closed her eyes and became as limp as a rag doll. She didn't even protest when he picked her up and instead of bringing her to the bedroom, laying her down on the carpet. She made a soft sound of mild discomfort when he laid on top of her, for he always forget that he was far larger in body than she was. "Sorry," he whispered as he kissed her forehead.

She only closed her eyes for his kiss, head tilted up towards his as she tugged off his shirt, eager to have no barriers between him and her. "It's alright," she whispered back.

And it really was alright, as far as she was concerned.

And mercifully, William slept through the night and there were no frantic phone calls from Sioux City or Washington DC.

And Mulder only left her twice, once to get up to turn off the light. And the second time, to retrieve a blanket from behind the couch because he didn't want Scully to have carpet burns.

And then, it was just him and her and the moonlight....

Meanwhile...

Doggett got back into the car to call Starkweather and explain why he sent her home.

Before he could even speak, the first words out of her mouth were: "Fuck you, man."

Doggett groaned. "Listen to me, I didn't send you away because I don't believe in your abilities to handle yourself in a situation. I sent you away because you're dog-tired and I'm giving you a chance to catch a nap before that party you wanted to investigate and to catch up on sleep tomorrow. I'm doin' you a favor."

Starkweather, only partially mollified, huffed, "Well... okay... but I still totally resent being sent home like a weak little girl."

"I hate to point somethin' out to you, Starkweather, but as far as the station guys are concerned, you ARE a weak little girl and we want them to continue to think like that. In their minds, you're a stupid college kid. That's your cover."

"How 'bout we change my cover to "well-read, cultured, influential college student'?"

"Whatever, you know what I meant. So pull that burr out of your ass, Doc. My decision had nothing to do with political correctness. It had to do with letting you get some shut- eye." Doggett looked out and saw Ace lighting another cigarette, looking up at the radio towers, completely not paying attention to him at all. "So, quit your bitching, get back to the dorms and get some cot time. This ain't over yet."

"What do you think that gooey stuff on the window is?"

"I dunno, but it looks like the same stuff that covered the murder victims." "Ew." Starkweather was at the bottom of the hill. Her entire body ached. Actually, she loathed to admit it, but a nap did sound blissful to her. "Okay... I'm at the school, I am going to get some shut eye before the party."

"You're welcome."

"Thank you, Papa John," Starkweather said in a sing song voice. Then, seriously, she asked, "Hey, Doggett...?"

"Yeah?" "Did you believe me when I told you I saw a face in the window?"

"I believe that you believed you saw a face in the window." "That's a cop out answer."

Doggett sighed raggedly. "I don't know what you saw, but you saw something and that something, whatever it was, wasn't good. And I don't believe you're losing your mind and I don't believe you were just seein' things. But I didn't see anything and I was there the entire time Doc."

"Okay... well, that's a fair answer," Starkweather sighed. "Remind me to call the Deputy Mayor tomorrow since I unexpectedly have the day off."

"Go to sleep Starkweather."

"Talk to you soon." Starkweather hung up her cell and got out of her car. She rubbed her eyes. "Good Lord," she muttered as she leaned against the car. When she opened them, she gasped in fright again. Not because there was another ghost, but because Autumn Chamberlain had sneaked up on her.

"You saw her tonight, didn't you?"

"Saw who?" Starkweather said suspiciously.

"Elizabeth."

"WHO??"

Autumn smiled and beckoned her. "Walk with me..." Starkweather looked longingly at the dorms, thought about a nap, moaned in despair and followed Autumn.

Autumn and Starkweather walked side by side, as if they were good college buddies. Starkweather took a deep breath, and crinkled her nose in disgust. "This city stinks."

"This entire city was built on blood," Autumn said cryptically. "How so?" Starkweather asked, taking a seat on a bench, which was across the road from the chapel. She looked through the thicket of trees behind her and if she tilted her head, just so, she could see a fairly terrific view of the city below, all lit up.

"The slaughterhouses is what made the city wealthy at first," Autumn said, sitting down beside her. "All the farmers would send their cattle and their pigs to be turned into beef steaks and bacon." Autumn shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know what happened. This used to be a wealthy city. Now, it's a shithole." She lit a cigarette.

"Who's Elizabeth?"

"Liz Cash, along with Alice McCoy, Sarah Nelson and Breda Vanvleet had a small coven when they were going to school here at Rose Hill. They were the coven blamed for the cattle mutilations that the FBI agent Arthur Dale cleared their names for. I do not know what happened to Sarah or Breda, for they moved back to their hometowns after they graduated. Alice, however, got religious, renounced her sinful ways and went on to grad school at USD in Vermillion, South Dakota and then moved back here to get married and punch out a few kids," Autumn made a face.

"And Elizabeth?"

Autumn sighed. "Wiccans do not have a true "leader" in our religion, the way organized religions do with their priests and rabbis and mullahs and so on and so forth. But she was the one who introduced the girls into the craft and tutored them in our ways so, she was tried and convicted in the press of leading three good Christian girls astray."

"What happened?"

"Elizabeth had one little weakness. She liked to smoke the happy weed and she liked to smoke the happy weed with Alice's older brother, Stuart. Stuart introduced Elizabeth to more racier types of drugs."

"Heroin, maybe...?"

"More like cocaine."

"How do you know this???" Starkweather demanded

"Can I finish?" Autumn asked, a little peevishly.

"Go ahead, but I want an answer to my question when you're done."

"Liz was a private person by nature-"

"Was? You speak as if she was dead."

Autumn went on as if Starkweather hadn't spoken. "so when the press came down mostly on her, she cracked. Her dependency on narcotics and on Stuart increased. She dropped out of school. Moved in with Stuart. Stopped practicing Wiccan and became just a mundane junkie."

"What happened to her?"

Autumn puffed on her Camel, rolling the taste of the smoke on her tongue before exhaling. "This is where it gets fussy. See... Elizabeth had some dirt on Stuart, dirt that would destroy his life. Stuart was getting tired of Liz. He wanted a new girl."

"Did Stuart kill her?"

"Not on purpose," Autumn was quick to say. "Not on purpose. But one night she met him at his part-time job to pick up a bag from him. So they went out to his car and gave her the wrong bag. So greedy for her drug, she couldn't even wait anymore until she was in the safety of her own home. She snorted it right then and there."

"And collapsed in the parking lot, suffered major convulsions, suffocated on her own blood and vomit but cause of death was probably a stroke because of lack of oxygenated blood to the brain," Starkweather finished for her.

"Yes."

"Was Stuart's part-time job at the radio station?"

"Yes."

"Is he still there?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"I don't know."

"Shock, surprise," Starkweather mumbled. "Okay, back to my original question - HOW do you know this stuff??"

"I held a seance and spoke to Elizabeth."

"SAY WHAT???"

Elizabeth is very angry," Autumn told Starkweather as she looked up at the steeple of the chapel. "She kept Stuart's secret to keep him out of jail. She understands that Stuart made a mistake and was not intending to kill her... she doesn't understand why he did not own up to his mistake and let her rest in peace. Wiccans are all about the freedom of making choices, even bad ones, but being adult enough to own up the consequences of the bad choices."

"Rest in peace?"

"He buried her in an abandoned lot next to the station that was covered with weeds. In those days, there were no houses, no apartments, no nothing out there. The station was literally in the middle of nowhere. It was in the middle of the night, no one was around, the police didn't even patrol the area back then, it was the perfect crime."

"Except that Elizabeth didn't stay buried, so to speak," Starkweather rolled her eyes. "I can not believe that I'm having this conversation."

"Stuart is merely on the receiving end of the Law of Three." "'Any energy you send out will come back three-fold," Starkweather quoted. "So, Elizabeth is killing these girls to get back at Stuart?" Starkweather shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. I thought the basic tenet of the Witches' Rede was, 'An it harm none, do as ye will.' If Wiccan is a religion of peace and nature, doesn't murder violate every thing it stands for?"

Autumn knitted her eyebrows. "Elizabeth's spirit is not the force behind the murders of these girls," she said slowly, "that I can not explain. The only thing I understand completely is that for the killings of the young women to stop if for Stuart to be brought to justice. Witches believe in justice, not revenge."

"So what, is it like bad karma that's following Stuart around? That girls are just going to drop off like flies until he raises his hand and says 'All right! I did it! Guilty as charged!'" Starkweather slapped her palm to her forehead. "I am NOT having this conversation." "You saw Elizabeth tonight, that's why you are having this conversation." "I saw SOMETHING," Starkweather snapped. "But I don't know what."

"What were you doing before you saw her," Autumn's eyebrows knit together again.

"You don't seem to have the personality of someone to be very open to the possibilities of spirit life, which is essential to be able to communicate with souls on the Other Side."

"Other side?" Starkweather said. "Oh brother."

"Well," Autumn persisted. "What were you doing?"

Starkweather mused for a bit. "I was playing the violin," she finally remembered. "I was talking to one of the full time jocks and then I played the violin for him. I looked over my shoulder because I saw something out of the corner of my eye... and there was a god damned face in the window... with glowing blue eyes."

Autumn nodded approvingly. "Music... so that's why you were able to see the spirit tonight."

"Huh?"

"You were getting in touch of the side of you that you try to deny."

"Which is???"

Autumn unfolded her long legs and started to walk away from Starkweather. "Your humanity," she said with a wink.

Starkweather watched in wonder at Autumn's retreating figure. She rubbed her eyes. "I'm losing it," she said aloud. "I'm definitely losing it," she hoisted herself up and dragged herself back to the dorms. She didn't even bother to take the stairs up, like she preferred to do, for one, stairs were good for toning the gluts and the calves and the thighs and for two, elevators often could be death traps. She didn't even turn on the lights or change clothes or even take off her shoes. She just collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes for what seemed like just a minute or two. She sighed in relief, feeling tension release its cruel grip on her body...

... and the lights came blazing on. "Omigod, Jeri," Tori said, followed by Mandi and Jennifer. "Where you sleeping?"

Starkweather lifted her head, her long locks tangled in the worst case of bed head that she had experienced in ages. Her clothes felt glued to her body. She gave them a look that could have melted sheet metal and snapped: "No, I wasn't. It was merely the illusion of sleep as I went into a trance so I could make evil Barbie Dollish Fem-bot spontaneously combust by using the powers of my mind.... and damn, it didn't work."

Tori raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm SORRY," she said in a huff. "We weren't expecting you to be back so soon."

Starkweather rolled over and looked at the clock. In reality, she had slept solidly for three hours. It had only felt like three minutes. "Don't mind me, I'm stressed and overtired. It's a good thing you woke me up, or I would have missed the party."

Tori's eyebrows went up even higher. "You're going??"

Starkweather reached for her brushed and tried to comb through the snarls of her hair. Her brush, to her embarrassment and horror, got stuck in her knotted mane. <<Shit!!>> she cursed to herself. "Yeah... last time I checked, it was open invitation, right?" She let go of her brush and was not really surprised that it clung to her hair. Tori, Mandi and Jennifer looked at each and rolled their eyes.

Starkweather could have leapt up and strangled them...

Later that night on the guys' floor...

Starkweather was having a miserable time.

She had managed to get the hairbrush out of her snarls while she was shampooing her hair in the shower. The dorms were still a giant sweatbox and still Starkweather slipped into a pair of baggy, suffocating jeans because, dammit, she had to carry her gun while on duty unless extreme circumstances prevent it. <<Besides>>, Starkweather consoled herself, <<if provoked enough, I could pop a cap into Tori's ass and claim insanity.>> And Starkweather also consoled herself when she slipped on the body hugging midriff tank top she bought out of desperation at Target that she, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight almost twenty-nine, staring thirty right at the face, that she had a better body than the Twit Triplets. Petty and pathetic as the thought was, but, Tori was an anorexic midget, Mandi had a bubble-butt and Jennifer had a pretty face as long as it was dark.

Yes, it was petty and pathetic, but when Starkweather observed her long, lean, almost teenagerish reflection in the full length mirror, she smirked as she raked her fingers through her long hair.

Still, her body was a small comfort only. The party to welcome back Sandy Gallimore, brother of the dearly departed Laura Light aka Candelauria Gallimore aka Candi, was hot, constricting and boring as hell. Mostly loud music and much beer consumed by minors. Starkweather couldn't even see in the crush of people. The Barbie Posse had completely abandoned her and sequestered themselves on Bob's couch, giving Starkweather dirty looks and whispering most obviously. Starkweather felt like she was back in high school, odd girl out and she hated them for making her feel that way, then hated herself for letting them make her feel that way.

<<This was a freakin' waste of time>> she seethed and she got up to leave when:

"Jeri!"

The Doughboy stood in front of her, blocking her way.

Starkweather smiled gamely. "Hi Barry," Starkweather said, trying to be nice.

The Doughboy's face stretched out into the silliest grin she had ever witnessed on a boy. He might as well have held up a flashing sign over his head "LOOK EVERYBODY - SHE REMEMBERED MY NAME!!!!" "Isn't this a great party?" he gushed, holding two cans of Old Milwaukee Light.

"No." That flat remark threw him off-guard. "Well... maybe... uh... could I… like a beer?" His smile stretched out even bigger. Starkweather's stomach turned at the sight of his yellowed teeth.

"No." Starkweather was trying to look around Barry's massive body for a glimpse of Candelauria's brother. The only person she recognized, was Autumn Chamberlain, who smiled and winked at her and disappeared out the door and into the hallway. "Can I sit here?" Barry patted the beanbag chair that was next to the battered armchair Starkweather was sulking on.

"Sure." <<LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!>> she screamed on the inside.

The Twit Triplets appraised Starkweather's current situation and tittered nastily.

Feeling sorry for herself, feeling like a failure because she was discovering nothing during her investigation, feeling like a fool because a gaggle of girls were laughing at her for some unknown reason, Starkweather heaved a big sigh. Her feline eyes began to roam around Bob's room, watching people go in and out, not worried about possible Residential Assistants or security guards lurking about, looking for a party to bust. Hell, most of the RA's and guards were partying WITH the students. Barry was babbling, but she wasn't paying attention.

Her eyes spotted a lovely electric guitar sitting in the corner.

Bob had just come in, eyes on Tori and her minimal clothing. Starkweather stopped his line of attack by asking "Who's guitar is that?"

"That?" Bob was taken aback, mainly because this was her first civil words to him since she punched him in the nose. "Mine."

"Can I play with it?" Bob snickered as his friends joined him. "That's too much guitar for you, Jeri."

Starkweather arched her eyebrow. "Really..." She stood up and tilted her head in a manner that she knew was girlishly charming. Her lips parted into a smile. "I'd like to try though, I've been practicing."

By this time, some of Bob's friends joined him. Snickering, Bob handed her the guitar. He pulled the cord into the amp and turned it on. "So what's it going to be?" Bob asked as he flopped onto the couch, full of beer, full of hormones. He cuddled Tori to him. "Peter, Paul and Mary? 'Bridge over Troubled Water'?"

Starkweather had leaned over to Bob's massive stereo system. Carefully cradling the guitar, she looked through his collection of CDs quickly, selected one, threw into the CD player, skipped to number five. Told Bob "Just press play when I tell you too," and carefully adjusted the volume of the amp and of the stereo speakers so there wouldn't be feedback.

She nodded to Bob, who pressed play.

The stereo was slightly lower than Starkweather's amp so her playing would be more noticeable over the CD, but still blend into song... kind of....

"There's something wrong with the world today I don't know what it is Something's wrong with our eyes We're seeing things in a different way And God knows it ain't his It sure ain't no surprise We're living on the edge There's something wrong with the world today The light bulb's getting dim-"

Here Starkweather glared pointedly at Tori as Steven Tyler screamed from the stereo and Starkweather's small hands coaxed screaming harmonies from the instrument that was supposed to be "too much" for her.

"-There's meltdown in the sky If you can judge a wise man By the color of his skin Then mister you're a better man than I We're living on the edge You can't help yourself from fallin' Livin' on the edge You can't help at all Livin' on edge You can't stop yourself from fallin' Livin' on the edge "Tell me what you think about your sit- u - a - tion Complication - aggravation Is getting to you If Chicken Little tells you that the sky is fallin' Even it if wasn't, would you still come crawlin' Back again I bet you would my friend Again & Again & Again & Again & Again.... "

Most of the kids there started listening out of curiosity. But Starkweather knew she had them eating out of her hand when she got to the big guitar solo in that Aerosmith song.

Anyway, her little moment in the spotlight not only assuaged her ego, but necessarily relieved much pent-up tension.

"Complication - aggravation Is getting to you."

<<Testify Brother Tyler, testify>> Starkweather thought to herself as she got the aggravation out of her. Unfortunately the complication was still there. She wasn't one of THEM. Not a college student. An agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Investigating a murder. As the song faded away, she held the guitar out to Bob. "Do you want to play??" she asked sickeningly sweet.

Seth butted in, "Dude, I have this friend who is looking for a new guitar player in his band and he was just sayin' how sweet it would be if he could find a chick who could play." He beamed at Starkweather.

"Maybe she should have played 'Dude Looks Like a Lady'." Tori said, shorts in a knot because now Bob's complete and undivided attention was focused on the Hurricane in the tight top, low-riding baggy jeans thick long hair and feline eyes.

Those feline eyes rested on Tori again. "Yeah, I 'specially like the line 'Then she whipped out her gun/Tried to blow me away.'" Those feline eyes were slits as Starkweather sneered at the girl before prancing out of the dorm room.

<<Waste of time. Waste of f*cking time.>> she sighed to herself. <<Oh well, at least I can go out on a high note and go to slee-"

"Jeri!"

Barry had followed her out. <<WHY!?!?!??!?!?!??!>> she wanted to scream.

Barry stumbled towards her. "You were AWESOME!!!" he panted.

For a split second, he reminded her of Chris Farley. Then she dismissed the thought. Chris Farley had actually been cool.

"You rocked, man, better than... better than... Steven Perry!"

"Joe Perry?" Starkweather corrected him unmercifully while thinking <<He can't tell the difference between Steven Tyler and Joe Perry???? What a loser.>>

"And I just have to tell you somethin'" he slurred, taking her hand.

Starkweather let him hold her hand but the rest of her body backed away from him as far as she could. "Yeah??????????" <<Maybe I'll luck out and he'll tell me something helpful about Candelauria.>>

"I think I'm in love with you."

"What?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?"

"I just, I can't stop thinking about you, ever since that day we shared in the library, then going out to dinner-"

"Barry, it was McDonalds." "I know! We have a connection, you and I." He was slurring his words very badly. He clasped her mean lean guitar playing hand between his big sticky palms. Starkweather did not even bother to hide her revulsion. The expression of horror on her face was almost comical. "I think you're a special girl, Jeri O'Brien and I know I don't deserve you because I'm fat and slow but I just think you're so cool and beautiful and smart and kick-ass. I don't expect a relationship right away-"

"WHAT?!??!?!??!?!?!"

"We can start slow at first. Go out to lunch again. But I just wanna let you know, Jeri, I'll treat you like a queen if you let me." He kissed the top of the hand that normally bore a wedding ring.

Starkweather started at him as if he was one of Mulder's mythical grays he always droned on about. "Barry, how much did you have to drink?" she blurted out.

"Two," he grinned. He squeezed her hand. "Whatdaya say????"

"FUCK no," Starkweather snapped and pulled her hand away. "I have a man. Back home."

Now Barry scowled. "No you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"What's his name?" He challenged her.

"Benjamin Starkweather, now leave me alone," Case or no case, she was NOT staying with this looney-toony. Besides, if she would stay any longer, she had a feeling that Doggett would kill her if he found out. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the wall, hurting her a little. Starkweather may be athletic, but Barry was just plain HUGE.

"Now, listen here-" he started but a voice interrupted him.

"Barry, dude," Sandy Gallimore put his hand on Barry's shoulder. "Chill out. The lady said she had a man. She's got a man. Leave her be." Sandy's tone was completely unruffled. "Besides, I heard Mandi had the hots for you."

"Really?" Barry let up on Starkweather and went in pursuit of Mandi.

Sandy dropped a wink at Starkweather. "Mandi's a bitch." He whispered. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Please," Starkweather said and followed Sandy Gallimore out the door.

Starkweather and Sandy walked outside towards "the mall", a space of greenery which was bordered by the classroom buildings, the library and the other dorms, all empty. In between the library and the main classroom building was an ultra-modern metal scuplture of figures dancing. Starkweather and Sandy stopped in front of the statue and stared at it. "God, that's ugly," Starkweather finally said.

Sandy smiled. Starkweather glanced at him through the corner of her eyes. Nice looking boy, really. The type of boy she lusted after when she was young. Starkweather stifled a sigh and felt her age.

"Yeah, Candi thought it was butt-ugly too," Sandy said. He ran his long fingers through his shaggy blondish brown hair. "Candi wasn't big into art." Awkward silence. "Don't worry about Barry," Sandy told her. He shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but he chases after anything that has tits and two to four legs. He tried to fuck with my sister, but-" he laughed, shaking his head.

"But what?"

"Well he followed her around like a sad puppy dog and he was always trying to get her alcohol and dope and Candi was always like 'Barry, I don't do that shit,' but he somehow got it in his head that booze and drugs are like women magnets."

Starkweather was staring at him open mouthed. "She didn't...?"

"Didn't what?" Now Sandy was defensive.

"Um..." Starkweather shrugged. "Look. I'm new. Okay? I don't know what the hell is going on. I didn't know your sister and I really don't know you. I appreciate you helping me out with Barry-" <<although a sharp kick to his la-la's would have solved that problem>> she thought caustically "-and taking me out here, but... there's... what I've heard... the rumors at the station..." <<My God... there goes our new untraceable drug theory>> she thought.

"What?"

"Well, some people seem to think she overdosed on something."

Sandy turned to her, his handsome lean face clouded over in darkness. "Really." It was a statement.

"I- I-... I'm sorry. Like I said, I don't-"

He held a hand up. "It's okay, Jeri. I know you don't know what the fuck's goin' on. That's why I took you out here. I wanted to talk to you. About Candi."

"Why?"

He let his hand drop. "Because everyone is wrong. The cops. The FBI. Everyone. It was no drug that killed her. No madman."

"What... what do you think killed her then?" Sandy took her hand. He looked at the ground. Starkweather felt an intense rush....a sweeping change through her body.... similar to... to what? When she first had sex.... no. When she met her husband.... no.... When she... when she....when she first met John Doggett... no...

<<Stop it Jerilyn.>> But she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Tell me," she whispered.

"That station killed her," Sandy said, almost feverishly. "That station killed her just as sure as you and I stand here, but I can't prove it. But I can't let another girl die. Jeri O'Brien, I don't know you. I don't know you at all. But you **must** quit the station. Please save yourself and go back to Omaha."

Then it hit here when she felt this way before and it had nothing to do with attraction, but with power and charisma. "You sound just as obnoxious and paranoid as my older brother," she said and slipped her hand out of his..

Sandy shook his head. "I'm not one of those freaks who just believes the first thing that I hear. I'm a criminal justice major. I do not believe into jumping to conclusions without proof. But... I just know... I just know it's that station. Something not right's going on there. I even told Candi I thought the way they treated her was wrong. That they treated her like garbage."

"How?"

"They assumed she was going to live and die for that damn place even though it was just an internship, even though she was getting paid only six dollars an hour. They interfered with her school, her sleep, her life. The problem was, Candi bought into it. She thought she was working her way into a full-time position. They just saw her as cheap labor."

Starkweather mulled that over in her head. Her brother said Candi didn't do drugs. The fax that the tox report came back clean supported his claim. Barry, however said he and Candi used to smoke the happy weed together. Barry, however, was a worthless piece of human waste, which disputes *his* claim.

"She did die for that station," Starkweather reminded him gently.

"Look how they're repaying her," Sandy said bitterly. "I tell you Jeri, someone in that station is guilty as sin." Starkweather, for the first time in days, felt a chill. But she was not glad because it was almost exactly what she had said to Doggett awhile back. Plus Autumn's weird little voyage into the beyond said the killer of Elizabeth Cash was still working at the station. <<Like that would be admissible in a court>> she told herself.

Still...

<<Oh, God in Heaven, the Mulder genes are rearing their ugly heads,>> she moaned to herself even as she asked "Who do you think that could be? It doesn't help me if I don't know who's guilty as sin."

Sandy shook his head. "I don't know," he said rather anticlimactic.

Starkweather looked at him. "I can't leave."

Sandy looked at her sadly. "Then at least don't stay there alone."

"I'm not alone," Starkweather assured him. <<My buddy Beretta is with me at all times.>>

"When do you work next?" Sandy asked. "I'll come with you."

"I.. I don't know when." Doggett had told her not to come to the station like she was supposed to. And dammit, she wasn't. She was going to sleep for a little while.

"Okay," Sandy heaved a sigh. "I'm not trying to scare you Jeri, it's just that... it's just that my sister died a nasty death and... I don't wanna see that happen again."

"It's not," Starkweather assured him as she thought <<In fact, I'm going to make a phone call to someone in the morning to ensure it doesn't.>>

The women's bathroom
First floor lobby of Oona Hall
6:15 AM Central Time

Starkweather, still in her clothes from last night, crept down to the ladies' room she had noted was next to the admissions office on First Floor Oona Hall. Tiptoeing, she carried a small backpack with her. The hall itself was filled with dim light of an early dawn but even the weakest light of morning did not dispel the gloom of the hall. <<Jesus, this place looks creepy>> she shuddered as she shut herself into the bathroom, locking the door. The bathroom only had two stalls. After kicking the stall doors open, just to double check, she sat on the floor, against the main door, even though she locked it. She opened her little backpack, pulled out a small sketchbook, a charcoal pencil and her cell phone. She dialed. "Come on, come on..."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes, Reyes, I do. I know it's five in DC and I'm sorry, but I need your help. I think I stumbled across a lead, a big one...but a Mulderish one."

Monica Reyes was instantly awake. "Yes??"

"Did you get the pen I sent you?"

"Yes."

"Did you feel anything...?"

"I saw something... Jerilyn..."

"What??"

"I think whoever this pen belongs to... is the murderer."

"Of Elizabeth Cash?"

"How did you kno-"

"Look, I... I can't fricken believe I'm saying this or even buying into this, but I'll explain everything to you and the rest of the kids in an email later today. I need to know what you saw." Starkweather cradled the phone to her ear with her shoulder, "I don't have a lot of time, Reyes."

Reyes told her about the vision, about the great pain and anguish she felt. "For a minute, Jerilyn, I felt like I couldn't breathe." "Describe the boy over Elizabeth's body."

Reyes did as Starkweather sketched. "Does he look familiar?" Reyes asked when she was finished.

Starkweather pursued her lips. "I.... Jiminy Christmas...."

"Jerilyn?"

"He looks familiar, but... shit I can't put my finger on it... but... my God... Reyes... it IS someone at the station, I know it, I just don't know... I'm just not sure... besides... this still isn't admissible in a court of law."

"But it's a start," Reyes said firmly.

"Yes," Starkweather whispered into her phone. "It's actually a very good start. Because I am sure of one thing."

"What?"

"The killer is a disc jockey," Starkweather stared at the charcoal composite of a young man with big eyes, a long nose and long hair. "It's one of the guys... it's one of the younger deejays." Her heart sank when she thought of Ace. She hoped it wasn't him. She really liked him. "It has to be one of them."

"Reyes, there's just one thing I need cleared up before we can go forward, but I think once we do, all kind of doors will be opened."

"What kind of doors?"

"Doors to judge's chambers where they will sign search warrants."

"What do you need?"

"Two things, we need to find Elizabeth Cash's body-"

Reyes interrupted. "What are you talking about? Cash's body WAS found... in the KRRQ studios."

"I thought that was Melinda Widlowsky. In 1985? She was a practicing Wiccan?? Rose Hill student. Originally from Colorado?"

"Yes, but there was also Elizabeth Cash. HER body was found. In the parking lot of the radio station."

Starkweather frowned. This did not jive with Autumn's seance. "She was Wiccan too, correct?"

"Yes." "But her body was.... found????"

"Yes."

"ALL of it?"

Reyes sat up in bed. "Yes... why...what??"

Starkweather sounded desperate. "Reyes, we're running out of time. I'M running out of time. There's something screwy with the Cash case. She was one of the girls involved with the cattle mutilation scandal. There was something different with her murder. Something different from all of the other girls. What???"

Reyes reached over, switched on the light and opened the thick case file on her night stand. "Starkweather, the only thing different from Cash's death and the death of the other girls is that her necklace was..." she read directly from the case file. "...missing, possibly stolen.'"

"That's it? What's special about the necklace?"

"It was a gift, an heirloom from her grandmother..." Reyes sucked in her breath. "My God, how could Scully and I missed this?"

"Missed WHAT??? Reyes, I have to get up back to my room before my idiot roommate thinks I fell in."

"The necklace was an antique locket from her grandmother... a Lacrissa Widlowsky." "Fuck me, Melinda and Elizabeth are related. What year did Melinda bit it?" "1985." "And Elizabeth?"

"1984."

"What brought Melinda to the same station where a relative and fellow broomstick jockey bought the farm."

"I'm all over that."

"One more favor and I'm spent."

"Name it."

"Make Mulder feel useful. Have him email me all info he has about black magick. Magick spelled 'm-a-g-i-c-k.'"

"Jerilyn, are you entertaining the idea that there are supernatural forces at work here?"

"I'm not just entertaining the idea, I'm buying it drinks and dancing the Macarena with it. I gotta go, I'll explain everything in an email."

Starkweather threw her belongings in her bag and sprinted up the stairs. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard an ear-piercing scream... from Autumn's room. Starkweather slung the backpack onto her back and ran to Autumn's. She pounded on the door. "Autumn!!! Autumn, it's me."

Autumn flung open the door, white as snow.

"What happened?" Starkweather whispered. "I had a bad dream," she whispered back.

Starkweather noticed she was trembling. "Must have been a hell of a dream." She reached for Autumn, her skin was cold to the touch.

"Come in," Autumn beckoned her. Starkweather stepped into her tiny room. Autumn, still shaking, sat on the floor on one of her massive pillows. She wrapped herself up in a heavy afghan quilt. Starkweather, meanwhile, was already feeling the promise of another hot and miserable day. "I dreamt about a girl, a deranged girl. Bitterly anger. I dreamt about her coming to the station. Threatening Elizabeth's killer."

"Then what?"

Autumn wrapped the quilt tighter around herself. "Normally I don't get auditory when I'm having my visions, I only get the visuals. But this time I could hear what they were saying too. The boy, the killer. He was laughing at this girl. But this girl... she laughed at him. She cursed him. She told him by the power of three times three what he's sown, he will reap. She said that three times..." Autumn closed her eyes and hung her head. "What happened?"

Autumn peeked up. Her eyes were brimming with frightened tears. "She took a plasic baggie out of her pocket. It was filled with a white powder. She stuck her nose in it and inhaled... she went into convulsions, she was vomiting and bleeding... oh god, Agent Starkweather," she whispered urgently, "it was so fucking scary."

"What?"

"As her body ceased to breath, I could see her spirit, her sould rise from it. I've... I... I can tell when people about to die because I see three glowing figures behind them. I think they're angels. Or maybe walk-ins."

"Walk-ins?"

"Old souls, that exist in the starlight. They're usually around children. They take the child's soul and consciousness right before an horrible act of violence takes their life. But..." Autumn shivered. "This was no angel. Her aura, her soul was mangled and black. Twisted. I watched her soul transform into something I've never seen before. I think... I think I witnessed someone turn into a ghost or a poltergeist." "What..." Starkweather said uneasily, "did it look like."

"It had no shape. It had no face. It was just this maglignant being with glowing blue eyes."

Starkweather inhaled sharply. <<Well, this is all fine and dandy, but this doesn't help me find enough evidence to smoke out the killer and throw his or her ass in jail.>> "What else happened?"

Autumn's hand poked out of the blanket and reached for her pack of Camels. She pulled one out of the pack. Starkweather found her lighter and did the honors. Autumn inhaled. Her hand still shook. "I heard a voice. The voice said, 'Stay out of this wannabe witch' and... I couldn't breathe. I felt that if I didn't scream, I'd suffocate. So I screamed. Then I woke up." "You said that Wiccans do not believe in revenge, but in justice, correct?" Starkweather asked. Autumn nodded. Starkweather sighed. "Normally I don't buy the supernatural stuff, but in my line of work, I can't afford to have a completely closed mind. Wicca is a religion, correct?" Autumn nodded again. Starkweather went on. "And, like any religion, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hindu, Buddhist, so on and so forth, can be twisted and manipulated to serve one's own purpose, correct?" Autumn nodded again. Starkweather took a deep breath and took a chance <<and if I'm wrong, we're all going to swing for it>> she told herself gloomily, "We just received information that one of the girls who died at the station was a relative of Elizabeth Cash. It was confirmed that she was a practicing Wiccan." Autumn's head bobbed up and turned to face Starkweather. "Is it possible that this girl could have perverted the tenets of the Witch's Rede to avenge her relative's death?"

Autumn looked up at the ceiling. "Black Magick." she nodded, "It makes sense. She killed herself the same way Elizabeth was killed to gain even more power. Power she wouldn't have access to on this plane... Jesus... and now she's abusing the powers of the other side in killing these girls. And she won't stop until the killer is brought to justice." Autumn turned whiter.

"If that is possible, of course," Starkweather said calmly.

Autumn hung her head again. "Agent Starkweather, you have no idea what is possible and what is not...."

Tori and Jeri's dorm room
7:30 AM Central Time

After making sure Autumn was okay, Starkweather drug herself back to her room. Despite the warning <<you have no idea what is possible and what is not>> Starkweather's mind was too fogged by exhaustion to even process it. She let herself into her room and fell upon her bed.

Some time later, the phone rang. Starkweather, so dead to the world, didn't even move. Tori, however, jumped up, startled out of a hung over sleep.

"Dammit," she cursed and she leaped down from her loft and grabbed the phone. "HELLO?" she said rudely. She listened for a bit. "Yeah, she's here, hold on..." she went to Starkweather's bed and shook her awake. "Jeri? Get up."

"Touch me again and I'll break all of your fingers," Starkweather growled.

"It's your boss," Tori held the cordless phone out to her.

Starkweather, still have asleep, thought she was talking about Assistant Director Skinner. She grabbed the phone. "Sir?"

"Jeri, where the hell are you???" Starkweather blinked. Checked the clock. "Reece?" "YOU'RE AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE TO YOUR SHIFT? DO YOU **NOT** VALUE YOUR JOB!!!" the program director shrieked at her. "I CAN HAVE YOU FIRED YOU KNOW! INTERNS ARE A DIME A DOZEN. WHEN I PUT YOU DOWN ON THE SCHEDULE I EXPECT YOU TO BE THERE. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NOT HERE???? I SHOULD WRITE YOU UP. I SHOULD FIRE YOU AND SEND YOU BACK TO FUCKING OMAHA!!! JUST LET YOU FAIL."

For a minute, Starkweather felt as panicked as she did the first time the Reveille woke her up during her Basic Training for the Air Force. Then she collected herself. "Reece, the FBI agent last night told me that it was too dangerous for me to come in. He ordered me to stay home until he gave leave. Didn't Ace tell you?"

"No," Reece said, still sounding peeved but not at her. "Looks like I'm going to have to write nasty memos. I hate writing nasty memos. I'm sorry I called and woke you up man, I just didn't know what was going on and I needed to know where my part-timers are you know. Because of all the craziness going on around here." Starkweather could see him bobbing his head up and down like a crane as he spoke. "I understand," she said mildly while she thought <<you prick>> "I should have called you myself." <<Thanks Ace>> she seethed.

"No don't worry about it don't worry about it," he was talking rapidly now. "But you'll be in tomorrow, right?"

"What?" "Well... you know, it was good of you to listen to the FBI guy 'cause that's what he's there for, to keep you safe-"

<<Dude, you have no idea>> Starkweather thought....

"... but you know that he's over-reacting right?"

"Over-reacting?" Starkweather asked blandly.

"Sure sure," Reece said. "Those guys tend to freak out over the littlest things."

Starkweather, who had never seen Doggett freak out, said, "I see."

"So go ahead and take today off, you did the right thing, but I need you to come in tomorrow."

Starkweather bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed. "Okay," she finally said slowly. "No problem. But, say, if something like this should, God forbid, happen again... could I have your home number so I can call you myself right away?"

"Oh sure sure. It's 255-0507."

"Thanks."

Reece Jackson finally left her alone. Starkweather, once she heard Tori snoring again, took out her little Toshiba computer notebook and sent an email out to the Lone Gunmen:

"Guys... still waiting on info on Imogene Autumn Chamberlain. Make that second priority after this. Need all the information on whoever's name is on the books for this phone number: 712-255-0507. He goes by the name Reece Jackson, but that's not his real name. I need his name, social security number, address, level of education reached, employment history, blood type, criminal records, library card, anything... I think this man is dirty, I think he's involved with the murders. Get it to me ASAP and I will make you my world famous Better than Sex Chocolate Cake. Or I'll buy you much beer. Whatever you prefer. Thanks guys. - Agent Starkweather." Starkweather encrypted the email, sent it and fell back asleep. Around four that afternoon, the phone rang, waking her from a dead sleep again....

Meanwhile...

Back in Washington DC
The Lone Gunmen Lair

"Dudes," Langly beamed. "Starkweather just emailed me."

Frohike and Byers shared a smile before going over to Langly's computer. The hapless wanna-be hippie with the thick glasses had the world's most pathetic crush on the feisty Dr. Starkweather. It was so pathetic in fact, that it completely put Frohike's crush for the enigmatic and "scrumptious" Dr. Scully in the shade.

Langly had just finished decoding Starkweather's email. "Damn... Better than Sex Chocolate Cake..."

"She must be desperate," Frohike concluded.

"Well gentlemen," Byers said, smoothing his tie. "Let's get to work. I think you and Langly," he said to Frohike, "should double up on researching the phone number while I complete our research on Imogene Autumn Chamberlain."

Meanwhile, Frohike was still reading the email. "Hey she said Better than Sex Chocolate Cake OR much beer. I'm leaning for the much beer."

"Go call Mulder," Langly shoved Frohike away from him. He shut down Napster and logged into the Yellow Pages. "Let's let our fingers do the walkin'," he said as he started to pound away at the keyboard.

Frohike picked up one of their many cellphones...

Scully was already up when the phone rang. Despite the unexpected late night with Mulder, she was awake at her usual ungodly hour along with William. She was on the floor, playing with her son, building a tower of building blocks for Will to knock over at his whim. He was getting SO big now! Scully had been marveling over her child. He could sit up by himself now and was trying to scootch along on his tummy although he hadn't quite figured out that one yet. When the phone rang, Will pointed and made noises at the noisy instrument.

"Yes, Will the phone's ringing," Scully sat up to grab the cordless. "Hello?"

"Agent Scully?"

"Good morning Frohike."

"I didn't wake you?"

"No, I've been up for awhile."

"How's the baby? Is he feeling better?"

"Which baby?" Scully couldn't help herself. "The little one."

"He's feeling much better, aren't you sweetie?" Scully said to Will who promptly destroyed the tower Mommy made for him.

"Where's the big baby? Starkweather asked me to relay a message to him about the X-File she and Dog-man are working on."

"He's still sleeping."

"What are you wearing?"

"WHAT?!?!?"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Frohike closed his eyes in horror. "I can't believe I said that out loud."

"**I** can't believe you said that out loud."

"Scully, I'm so sorry, god I'm sorry. Really really sorry. Really."

"Really?"

"Really... um... okay I want to die."

"Would you rather talk to Mulder?"

Frohike would have rather crawled under a rock and stayed there for about twenty years but instead he said "Sure."

Scully scooped up William and went into her bedroom. Mulder was still snuggled under the covers. His dark hair was still tousled from last night. One bare arm was clutching the corner of her comforter. His face was perfectly calm in repose. He so rarely looked peaceful, Scully hated to wake him, especially for Frohike, but since it was something about the case in Sioux City, she sat down on the bed and breathed his name into his ear.

"Wake me again and I'll break all your fingers," Mulder grumbled, unconsciously mirroring Starkweather's comment to Tori, although his tone of voice was much nicer than hers. Plus he wrapped his free arm around her tiny waist.

"Mulder, it's business. It's about the radio station X-File Doggett and Starkweather are working on."

Mulder's eyes flew open. "Everything okay?"

"I'm assuming so. Otherwise Frohike would have told me."

"Frohike?"

"He's on the phone. He wants to speak to you." Then Scully whispered to him, "Tell him what you're wearing."

"What?!?!?!"

"Just do it," Scully handed him the phone and carried Will away.

Mulder shook his head. And people thought she didn't have a sense of humor. "Hello?"

"Mulder, it's Frohike."

"Hi Frohike, I'm laying in bed wearing nothing but a pair of the pink silk boxers with the face of Elvis screen- printed on the ass. I got 'em when I went down to Gracelan- "

"OH GOD, SHE TOLD YOU!!!!!" Frohike lamented aloud.

After Mulder finished humiliating Frohike, he slipped on the pair of gray fleece sweat pants that now practically lived over at Scully's. He sighed, realizing that he hadn't been to his apartment in over a week now. He wondered if he had any living fish left. Feeling better than he had in days, he padded into the kitchen. Will was already in his high chair, being fed oatmeal. Scully looked up at him. "There's coffee brewing."

"I knew I kept you around for some reason," Mulder deadpanned as he made a beeline for the burbling coffee- maker. "Hey Boo," Mulder stopped to kiss the boy on the head, then continued his journey to caffienation.

"What did Frohike want?" Scully asked while deftly wiping a glob of oatmeal off Will's chin.

"To know what you were wearing," Mulder said flatly. "I told him you were wearing a black leather corset from Victoria's Secret and a pair of crotchless panties from Frederick's of Hollywood. I think he passed out."

"Mulder."

Mulder poured himself a cup of coffee. "Want some?" he asked her. When she shook her head, he came and sat down by her. "He was relaying a message from Starkweather. She seems to think that the program director is involved some how." "The program director.... Reece Jackson..." she shook her head. "Problem is, that's not his real name. And the radio station is being absolutely uncooperative about releasing personal information. Agent Reyes emailed me earlier this morning. I guess Starkweather woke her up at the crack of dawn and they did a little brainstorming."

"Anything productive?"

"Productive enough that Agent Reyes said she figured out a connection and is going to Judge Nelson today to obtain a search warrant to overrule the confidentiality clauses of the radio stations contacts."

"What's the connection?" Mulder sipped his coffee and still burned his tongue. "Ow."

"Agent Reyes, after she got off the phone with Agent Starkweather, went to the KRRQ website on a hunch. Starkweather told her she has good reason to believe that who ever is causing the deaths of these girls, be it murder through supernatural means or peddling of lethal drugs," she looked at Mulder pointedly before resuming the feeding of William. "Is still at the station, who has been at the station from the start."

"Makes sense," Mulder said thoughtfully. "I read Starkweather's profile. I'd have to agree with her findings. Who's been there since 1984?"

"Four disc jockeys," Scully said, wiping Will's face again. "Three for the FM station, one for the AM station."

"What are their air names?"

"John Kelly is the news anchor for the AM station. He has access and no alibi, but no motive. Reece Jackson, the program director for the FM side. He has access, but he has an alibi and no motive The same goes for the other two. Taran, the promotions director and afternoon deejay. And Ace, the overnighter."

"Hmmm..." Mulder mulled this over in his head. "Is Taran male or female?"

"Female."

"Taran might have motive if she was neurotically concerned about competition but I don't see her as the big mover and shaker in this whole ordeal..."

"Who are you leaning towards?" "How old is John Kelly? Is he a young buck or an old news hound?" "More like ancient news hound. According to his online bio, he's been with the station since February 1968."

"The dawning of the age of Aquarius." Mulder blew on his coffee before drinking it this time. "I'm in Starkweather's camp. I'm leaning toward the program director."

"So you've abandoned the possibility of supernatural possibilities?"

Mulder looked at her blankly. "Scully... this is me we're talking to."

"Damn," Scully muttered. "Mulder, just for once, can't you accept that a crime may be nothing more than an atrocity committed by a mentally ill or morally impaired human being??"

"Nope."

Scully sighed and went to lift William out of his high chair. "What straw, pray tell, are you clinging to this time to blame this crime on the acts of the unknown?" She placed Will in his playpen and gave him some toys to play with.

Before Mulder could retort, the phone rang. With a sigh, Scully picked it up. "Hello?"

"Dana, it's Monica Reyes, did you receive my email."

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Well, I forgot to tell you something. Starkweather asked me to relay a message to Mulder. She asked me to ask him to research black magick. Magick spelled m-a-g-i-c-k."

Scully's shoulders drooped. "Let me ask," she covered the mouthpiece with her hands. "Before you say I told you so... Starkweather needs you to do some research on black magick."

"I told you so."

Scully glowered at him. "He's all over it," she said to Reyes.

"Is he feeling better?"

"He must be," Scully grumbled.

"I got to go, I've got another call coming in and I think its Doggett." "Keep us updated, Agent Reyes."

"I will. Tell Fox thank you."

Scully hung up the phone and turned to face Mulder. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, big arrogant grin crossing his face.

"Don't even Mulde-"

"You know Scully, it hurts me to be right all the time."

Scully took a handful of William's uneaten oatmeal and flung it at him. It splattered on his bare chest. "Ew." He flicked the mush off of him. "Mature Scully," he said, dragging his fingers across the chocolate cake Maggie Scully had made for them when she had come for a visit last week, "real mature..." he took another glob of frosting with his other hand.

"Mulder..." Scully warned him, grabbing Will's bowl. "Don't make me use this..."

"Use what?" Mulder asked all too innocently as he began to circle the table, reaching out with his frosting covered hand.

Will watched from his playpen, fascinated.

Scully faked right, then darted left, trying to make it to the living room, but Mulder was faster with his long legs. He tackled her and pinned her. "Mulder!!! DON'T!!!" Scully squealed as Mulder painted her cheeks with frosting.

"That's not what you were saying last night," Mulder taunted her as he smeared frosting down her forehead to her chin.

Still holding the bowl, Scully took the cold oatmeal and dumped it on his head. Oatmeal dripped from his hair. "Truce?" Scully asked sweetly.

Will shrieked with laughter and clapped his hands.

Mulder flicked oatmeal from his eyes. "Truce." He stood up and held out his hand for Scully. "Last one to the bathroom gets to change Will," Mulder announced as he pushed her aside and darted to the bathroom. Scully was hot on his heels, but he slammed the door in her face, her chocolate coated face.

"Mulder...you... you... YOU JERK!!" Scully threatened half- heartedly. Over the sound of the shower, Mulder sang "Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me."

Scully went back to William who burst into new giggles when he saw Mommy's dirty face. "Yes, Mommy looks silly, doesn't she?" she asked him as she crouched down by his playpen. "Mommy feels silly too....

Meanwhile
Monica Reyes' apartment

"John?" "Yeah Monica, what you've got goin' on over on your end?"

Monica filled him in on everything she's discovered in the past few days, "... and I'm going to Judge Nelson this afternoon to get a search warrant. If we can get the real names, then we can do background checks and look for priors."

"Good idea."

"What about you?"

Doggett filled her in, including Starkweather's 'vision.'

"No wonder she was so insistant that there was supernatural forces," Reyes said wonderingly.

"Ah, Reyes, not you too," Doggett moaned. "Between Mulder and Starkweather..."

"Remember one thing," Reyes said, feeling a twinge of disloyalty to Mulder, then dismissing it, "Mulder, although he possesses a brilliant mind, also possesses a fanatical heart. He'll believe almost anything. Where as Starkweather is worse than the Doubting Thomas. Christ Himself could come down from Heaven and place her finger into His nail wounds and she would still ask for His ID."

"True," Doggett said. "Sacrilegious, but true."

"Sorry."

"You really believe in this hocus-pocus crap?"

"In this case John, yes I do. Especially if its STARKWEATHER making the claim she saw something, had a vision."

"Why didn't I see anything then?"

"That I can't answer."

"So we're back to Square One."

"No. We have a solid profile that the killer of the girls had been with the station since 1984. A profile created by hard facts, not by visions or vibrations or Bibbiti- bobbiti-boo." Doggett sighed. "I think... I think we should pull Starkweather from the case."

"Why?!??!"

"Not," Doggett said quickly, "because I think she's doing a bad job. I think having her undercover at the station it backfiring on us. I think she's being targeted. I'm... Monica, I'm afraid she's going to be next and if that happens, I can't live with myself."

Reyes smiled as if her friend could see her. "Starkweather is a lot stronger than people realize."

"I know she's a tough lady but-"

"Not just physically John," Reyes pointed out. "Now... don't you start hemming and hawing, but when I met her briefly when we... um... surprised the Lone Gunmen... I was astounded at how bright her aura was."

"Aw, for the love of Go-" Doggett started to protest.

Reyes interrupted. "She'll be fine, John," she assured him. "Just keep doing what you've been doing for her."

"I don't know..." Doggett ran his fingers through his fingers. "I don't like the feel I'm getting from this."

"Then double up your surveillance but don't underestimate her strength either."

"How can you be so sure?" Doggett demanded. "You haven't even met the lady for longer than five minutes in person yet."

"Look at the marriage she's trapped in," Reyes pointed out gently. "If she can bear that, she can bear anything."

The phone hummed the dial tone as Doggett stared at it. He sniffed and went to shower quickly.

He still wanted to pull Starkweather off the case. He had a very bad feeling about the whole thing....

Later on that day... Red Lobster Sioux City, Iowa 12:14 PM, Central Standard Time

The waitress had just brought the salads and refreshed their water glasses when Special Agent John Doggett got to the point. "We are getting closer to resolving the case with your station, Mr. Tiesdale." Ted Tiesdale, general manager for stations, helped himself to the cheesy garlic biscuits. As he lavished butter on his bread, he looked up at Doggett and said "Good news, I hope."

"I believe it to be sir."

"Can you divulge any details?"

"Not at the moment, but I have two requests to make of your station."

Always a salesman, Tiesdale smelled a deal in the making. "Sounds more like a sales pitch than a request, Mr. Doggett," he said evenly as he chomped into the bread. Tiesdale was a big eater.

"No sales pitches," Doggett said lowly, below the elevator music and the clatter of silver on china. He picked up his salad fork and picked at his salad. He was never a big salad fan. "Two requests. Two requests made only once."

"And if they're refused?"

"Then they become demands and that's when the lawyers and judges get involved."

Tiesdale, with a "Who luvs ya baby" twinkle in his eye, said jovially, "Still sounds like a sale pitch to me."

"In my field, it's known as an offer."

"That I can't refuse?"

"You can refuse," Doggett said. "But it would serve the interests of justice plus the security of your station much better if you cooperated."

Now Tiesdale's tone was a touch cooler. "I'll be the judge of what's best for my stations, Mr. Doggett. What are your offers?"

"The first one is to release the payroll information along any other pertinent employee records to the FBI."

"And we've already been through that one, Mr. Doggett," Tiesdale had already polished off his salad. "We have strong confidentiality issues concerning the employee records, ESPECIALLY the air personalities."

"I don't think you understand sir-"

"No sir, I don't think YOU understand." Tiesdale, still friendly enough, helped himself to more bread. Doggett pushed his salad away, leaned forward, just a little. "In case you haven't noticed, this city is a giant stink hole, okay? Small businesses are closing left and right. What little major corporations we've got in town are laying people off left and right. The colleges are suffering major declines in their student populations. The farmers would rather take their produce to Omaha or Sioux Falls. And people don't stay here to party on the weekends or to spend family time here. They go to again, Omaha or Sioux Falls, or some would rather drive the three, four hours it takes to get to Des Moines or Minneapolis.

"The point of the matter is, somehow, we've managed to rise about the sludge. We have a solid format, an excellent product to sell and we're making a lot of money. People are desperate to have business come through their doors and they call us because KRRQ has been the number one radio station in this crappy little town for five years in a row. Yes, we're a small market. But we're making money and that's the point. Our revenue for last quarter was six thousand dollars over goal and three thousand over LY."

"LY?"

"Last Year," Tiesdale clarified. "Mr. Doggett, the reason why we're making money is because the music is good and the deejays are good. You need to understand. When Royal Channel Radio Group bought out KRRQ and its sister AM station ten years ago, they did their market research. This is the Bible Belt. This is the land of the farmers and the cowboys. Country music is going to do very well here. Plus, we are one of the few stations that depends heavily on it's deejay support. Many stations utilize voice-tracking and satellite feeds, but with the exceptions of our Sunday morning broadcasts, you will hear a live voice every time.

"Because our deejays are so prolific, they're considered to be minor celebrities in this town and we protect their privacy rights viciously. This is no joke, Mr. Doggett. Taran Chandler, our promotions director and afternoon voice, was stalked for two years by a fan who was sadly mentally ill. This is when she used to do evenings. Mr. Doggett, he used to come to the station and wait for her to get off at nights. The cops were called several times. Ace, our overnight guy, has had his truck broken into on several occasions when he was doing personal appearances on behalf of the station. Reece, our pd, has received death threats. Just recently, our evenings man, Elliott, is having trouble with prank phone calls. At first, they were your run of the mill stupid calls. 'Is your refrigerator running' and the like. Now, they've become threatening." Now Tiesdale leaned forward. "Imagine what could happen if the public knew these people's real names. Their phone numbers. Their addresses."

"I understand your concern," Doggett said gravely, "And I can assure you that this information would not be brought into the public domain."

"I just don't understand why you need this information... unless you think one of my employees is guilty."

"I can't comment on that, sir." "Then I can't release that information."

"Then I can get a search warrant."

"Then you best be doing that," Tiesdale snarfed down another biscuit. "First request settled. Second??"

"I do not want that intern, Jeri O'Brien to step foot into your station until this investigation is resolved. We have new evidence and reason to believe she's being targeted."

"Done," Tiesdale said affably. "There, Mr. Doggett, that was an easy enough sell, wasn't it? Ah, look, in time for the main course," he said cheerily as the waittress bore a huge tray filled with steaming King crab legs, hush puppies and baked potatoes. "This is the closest to sea food us inlanders get," he said with a wink.

Doggett, who used to go crabbing as a small child off the coast of Georgia only nodded politely. He was too busy turning over the small bit of information that Tiesdale unwittingly bequeathed to him:

<<Reese, our pd, has received death threats>>

<<Why would this man receive death threats...>> And the truth slammed into Doggett like the proverbial lightening bolt.

<<Because he did it... and this oily SOB knows....>>

Later on that afternoon... The Sioux City Hilton 2:15 PM Central Standard Time

Doggett had just finished pouring over the new finding that Reyes emailed him when his cell phone rang. "John Doggett."

"Hey Puppy Man." As always, Doggett cringed at the unflattering nickname. "Mul-duh. What's going on?"

"Well, I'm wondering if you heard from the Hurricane yet?"

"I'm not expecting her to check in until later tonight."

"Is she supposed to go to the station tonight?"

"No." Doggett said. "In fact, I'm in the process of pulling her from the case."

Mulder let out a long breath. "Woo... why?" "Because I believe her life is in jeopardy by working there. I believe she's being targeted."

"What proof?"

Doggett told him about the vision she experienced along with his theory about Reese and Tiesdale. "I don't know why the GM's covering for the PD. But I can't justify putting Starkweather in harms way."

"Ah... but Doggett, you offered me theories and instincts. No evidence."

"You WANT her at that station?" Doggett snapped.

"You misunderstand me, Puppy-Man. I don't have much in the way of family anymore. Scully, the baby and god help me, Starkweather are pretty much all I have left. If I was in your shoes, I would have made the same call. I HAVE made the same call with Scully on several occasions when I was still with the Bureau. But here's the thing, Scully fought me every step of the way until I had physical non-refutable proof that her life was being endangered by the mission and even then at times, she wouldn't go. Starkweather has Scully's same steel, Doggett. If you tell her she's being yanked because you have a "bad feeling" she's going to fight you every step of the way."

"I know that," Doggett said. "I also know that the girl just went through hell last month with the kidnapping of her husband. I also know that she's suffering from major sleep deprivation. The last time we spoke face to face, she could barely form full sentences. I'm concerned for not just her safety but for her health. Physical and mental. And least you forget, Mulder, I was partnered with Scully when you were missing. I know what kinda steel you're talkin' 'bout. When I found out she was still working in the field while she was pregnant, I could have choked her for her stubbornness. So, thanks for the warning, but I know what I'm getting into."

"Did you tell her yet?"

"No."

"Well, then you have a few hours left to live."

"Thanks. Is that why you called me?"

"Nope," Mulder said cheerfully. "Just doin' a little homework for Starkweather and wanted to run it past you."

<<Goody>> Unlike Mulder, John Doggett kept most of his sarcasm to himself. Politely, out loud, he asked "What's that?" "Well, Starkweather asked me to look into Black Magick, which I did, but even though there are some specialized spells, love spells, voo doo and the like, what I keep coming across is that most people customize their spells to suit their needs."

"And?" Doggett stifled a sigh of impatience. He hadn't had the years of experience with Mulder-theories as Scully and Skinner had.

"Scully's over at Quantico right now, analyzing that sample you sent us-"

"You got already??" Doggett was surprised. "Damn... anyway...." "Anyway, I did the legwork on the Elizabeth Cash-Melinda Widlowsky connection. Apparently they were cousins, their mothers were sisters. I made a few phone calls-"

"Mulder," Doggett sounded a little peeved, as he well should be. "May I remind you, that as much as we appreciate your consultations and your assistance, you are no longer a part of the X-Files in any real official capacity and should not be making phone calls?"

"Oh **I** didn't make any phone call," Mulder went on blithely. "**John Doggett** did."

"WHAT!?!?!" Doggett squawked. "Mulder, why you slippery son of a-"

"Anyway," Mulder continued as if Doggett was silently listening instead of loudly ranting

"According to Elizabeth's mother, Glenda Cash, Elizabeth and Melinda were very very close. Melinda was a bastard child raised by her grandmother, Lacrissa Widlowsky. Both girls were close to Lacrissa. They loved to listen to her tales of the 'old' country, meaning Russia before Anastasia screamed in pain. Lacrissa was a first generation American who grew up speaking Russian before English and was told fairy tales about the gypsies and magicians that used to roam the frozen countryside before Marxism raised its ugly head."

"That's nice."

"Melinda was fascinated by tales of magic and began dabbling in the occult when she was thirteen or fourteen. She was a full-blown Wiccan when she was sixteen. Glenda told me that she thought her daughter was never involved with any of that quote "nonsense" unquote-"

"Until the cattle mutilations here in Sioux City," Doggett finished for him.

"Ding, ding, ding, Doggett. Glenda said she was mortified. That Elizabeth was always such a 'good girl.' Unfortunately, Elizabeth was a very shy girl as well. She couldn't handle the ostracizing she was receiving from school and the other two girls had broken away from their coven in fear. Plus she was ashamed to go home so she turned away from real life and into the fantasy life of drugs and her new boyfriend-"

"Stuart McCoy."

"Very good Doggett," Mulder said in his most patronizing. "Too bad I'm not awarding cash prizes for your right answers."

"Get to the point."

"When Elizabeth was found dead, Melinda was livid. The girls had been inseparable until Elizabeth came to Iowa to go to school. According to Glenda, Melinda acted very strangely at Elizabeth's funeral."

"What did she do?" "During the procession, where the mourners can go up to the body for final visitation before the deceased is committed to the ground, Melinda took out a pair of silver shears and cut off a long lock of Elizabeth's hair."

"What??"

"At the funeral, Melinda also took flowers and greenery off of Elizabeth's casket. She also was seen taking dirt from Elizabeth's grave."

"Weird."

"Gets weirder." Mulder thumbed through his notes. "The girl stayed in Elizabeth's room at her mother's house all night. Glenda heard her chanting this phrase 'By the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see.'"

"'By the powers of three times three...." Doggett mused.

"'The Law of Three' Doggett. 'Any energy you send out...'"

"'Will come back three-fold...'" Doggett finished. "She was using witchcraft-"

"To find her cousin's killer."

"But Elizabeth wasn't murdered." Doggett reminded him. "It was a drug overdose."

"But whoever supplied Elizabeth with the drug was a killer in Melinda's eyes. That's what's important here," Mulder told him. "What Melinda sees."

"Umm... okay..."

"According to Glenda, Melinda came out of Elizabeth's room, very pale, almost ghostly, to use her words. Most disturbing was the lock of hair she took from her cousin, she had braided it into her own hair. It was still braided into her hair when they found her body. Melinda became more and more withdrawn. She couldn't keep a job to save her life, spent more and more time alone. Any money she had, she would spend at a local New Age store, buying books and candles. Glenda said she still has all of Melinda's things in storage.

"Then almost a year later, Melinda took what little money she had left in savings and bought a bus ticket to Sioux City, Iowa. She never came home. See... here's the clincher. The link that we almost missed but Reyes caught."

"Okay..." "As I said before, Melinda and Elizabeth were very close to Lacrissa, their grandmother. Lacrissa was not a wealthy money, but she did leave a few share of money and valuables to the girls. Elizabeth spent hers on school at first, then drug money. Melinda, on her religion. But Lacrissa also left the girls two pieces of jewelry, family heirlooms, jewelry that had been in the Widlowsky family for years, before they had come to the States.

"Elizabeth had inherited a gold locket which had a marquise cut ruby on the front of the locket. The ruby was bordered by small diamond chips. Melinda inherited the matching ruby ring. The girls had never taken this jewelry off their person after their grandmother died. When Elizabeth's body was found... the necklace was missing."

"And Melinda?" "When Melinda was found, the ring was missing."

"But the girls could have easily lost the jewelry Mulder. From the sounds of it, neither one was really all there."

"True, however, found in Melinda's motel, along with much witchcraft and occult paraphanalia, was a photograph of their grandmother, wearing the jewelry and a photograph of the girls a few years back. Elizabeth was wearing the necklace, Melinda the ring. The jewelry is very distinctive, Doggett. And would be damning if found."

"The jewelry's probably already been pawned," Doggett theorized.

"Maybe..." Mulder mused, "but I doubt it. The pieces are too unique. Plus, the police have already publicized the missing jewelry too much when the crime was first committed. Plus, it's too much of a coincidence that in both deaths, both girls were robbed of family heirlooms."

"Maybe..." Now Doggett mused a bit. "This has been very interesting information, Mulder. What does that have to do with anything? You think we find the jewelry, we find the dealer who gave Elizabeth the bad dope."

"Yes I do," Mulder said. Doggett crossed over to the sink and took out one of the complimentary glasses next to the sink. He turned the cold water tap on. "So where does Melinda factor into this?"

"I think Melinda sold her soul to the devil."

"Excuse me?" Doggett stopped filling his water glass.

"Well, I mean that figuratively since the devil is part of the Christian-Judeo tradition and Wiccans really don't believe in that. I think, as mentioned before, how others in the more traditionally accepted religions have perverted their faith to serve their means. The Crusades, the Salem witch-hunts, Jijads, the conflict between Israel and Palestine, I believe Melinda perverted her Wiccan faith to serve her purpose, to feed her own hunger for vengence."

"How?" Doggett then started to drink his water.

"I think she purposely killed herself to gain all the powers of the other side to haunt the radio station until Elizabeth's killer is brought to justice."

Doggett spit water all over and started coughing.

"You okay, Puppy Man?"

Doggett spluttered "Of all the ridiculous, idiotic, implausible, unproveable, far-fetched theories you could have ever come up with Mulder, this one takes the got- dammed cake."

"It's a possibility."

"A POSSIBILITY!!!!" Doggett now realized why Skinner was bald. Mulder made all of his hair fall out. "A girl suicides to get back at a killer who's not really a killer, just a two-bit dope dealer who couldn't keep his crack separate from his smack. Mulder, I really don't think so." A thought hit him. "You didn't tell Starkweather, did you?"

"I just emailed her."

Meanwhile.... The Computer lab Second Floor at the Library Rose Hill, College

Starkweather had plugged in her little laptop to read her email in relative peace and air-conditioning. Barry, still humiliated from the other night, left her severely alone. She had just finished reading Mulder's email. "BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!" she put her head down on the table, laughing, pounding her fist against the table....

Meanwhile
back at Doggett's hotel room

"She's gonna think you're nuts," Doggett told him.

Mulder said airily, "She already does, so how could this hurt?"

Doggett sat down on the bed, "Well, add me to the list, Mulder, 'cause I don't think this one will fly."

"Just keep an open mind on this one," Mulder droned on. "I mean, a small insignificant piece of hell could freeze over and I could be wrong about the witchcraft part, but one thing I am for sure about and Scully and Reyes agree with me too."

"What's that?"

"Find the jewelry, find the killer. The profile I created this morning based on the new information correlates with the profile Starkweather made earlier on. The killer is still at that station and has severe issues with right and wrong. He's terrified of being caught. Big problems with paranoia. He's not stupid, he knows the jewelry is incriminating and probably has it well hidden, or so he thinks." Doggett then heard a wail in the background. "Oops, Will's awake. I gotta go. This is my last day off before I have to go back to work."

"Day off?" Doggett frowned. "Did you take a vacation?"

"No, I, uh, wasn't feeling well." Mulder decided not to tell Doggett he had the chicken pox. If Doggett found out, then Starkweather would find out and then the ridicule would never stop. "Scully will want to talk to you later when she gets back from Quantico."

"Alright, thanks Mulder."

Mulder hung up.

Doggett looked at the phone. "Weird..." he muttered.

Meanwhile back at the college....

"...damn weird," Starkweather muttered after she recovered from her laughing fit and re-read Mulder's email.

The crazy thing was... as unrealistic as Mulder's theory was... it made total sense.

Starkweather felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, pushed the hand away and wheeled around.

Autumn smiled her spooky-Morticia Adam's smile at her. "Relax," she said. "It's me. I've figured out a way to help you."

"Oh goody," Starkweather said in a not-so-delighted tone.

Come with me," Autumn beckonned.

Starkweather shut down her computer and followed Autumn into the blazing August sunshine. "How are you feeling?" Starkweather asked her once they were outside. "You were awful shook up this morning."

"Better," Autumn said as they walked to the main classroom. "In fact, I think I may have experienced a moment of clarity."

"Uh-huh," Starkweather said dispassionately.

"I think I know what I'm meant to do," Autumn said, getting excited as they entered the school hall. They went down a short flight of steps and immediately hung a left through two huge double doors. It was pitch black until Autumn hit the lights. Starkweather saw they were now in a music recital hall.

"You said you saw a vision while you were playing the violin last night at the radio station, did you not?"

"I saw SOMETHING," Starkweather said. "But I was really sleep-deprived," she was talking to Autumn, but couldn't help eyeing the beautiful baby grand piano, standing there shining and black in the orchestra pit.

"Do you feel weightless, untethered, free when you play music?"

"Well... yeah... it's my release."

Autumn took her by the hand and led her to the piano. "Then release yourself."

"I- I don't get it."

"Lose yourself into the music. Let your prejudices and reservations go and let your spiritual side open again."

"Oh come on..."

"Don't you believe in the possibility of another world beyond this one?"

"Well... I don't know... I've never really- I'm not religious, Autumn," Starkweather confessed.

"Religion and faith are two separate things," Autumn educated her. "Is there no one in your life who has passed on that you hope to see again when your earthbound body gives out?"

And Starkweather suddenly remembered the conversation she had with Scully when they had finished power-shopping for this miserable undercover mission:

"...This reminded me how much fun I used to have with my sister, Missy... I lost her a few years ago, some men killed her, thinking she was me... No, it's okay, it was a long time ago, I've come to grips with what happened, but I really miss the things we used to do...but tonight, just being out with you tonight... reminded me that nothing good ever really dies, does it?" Scully had said.

And Starkweather had been hit with an overwhelming wave of sorrow, sympathy and empathy, to the point where she had uncharacteristically reached out and hugged Scully, feeling her pain and wishing she could share her own. But how could she burden Scully with her greatest sadness in the world, a sadness so great, if she thought of it even for just a second, it would hurt to continue breathing.

But sometimes, confessing to a stranger is easier than confessing to a friend. So when Autumn asked "Is there no one in your life who has passed on that you hope to see again when your earthbound body gives out?" Starkweather blurted out:

"Yes. My mother. She... she died when I was only sixteen. She had a very rare form of cancer. She never..." Starkweather stopped. "Go on." Autumn coaxed her gently.

Starkweather shrugged. "I knew she loved me. Even if she wasn't my quote 'real mother' unquote. I was adopted. And she adored me. And I, her. But... she never knew me. As an adult. She never saw me graduate from high school or college or med school or Quantico. She never saw me get promoted to Senior Airman when I was in the Air Force. She never saw me get married. She'll never see my children if I ever have any..." Starkweather shook her head. "And I'll never get to know her as a woman. As a person. I... I had a falling out with my father, my adoptive father, so hearing any stories about her..." Starkweather stopped again.

Autumn put her hand on her shoulder. "Jerilyn," she said softly. "Go summon your mother," she gently pushed down on her so she would sit down at the piano bench. Jerilyn stared at the piano keys.....

"Oh, I don't wanna..." Starkweather balked.

"Come on," Autumn coaxed her again. "It'll be alright."

Starkweather dragged her fingers across the piano keys. "Any requests?"

Autumn shook her head. Starkweather turned around. "Are you going to keep your hands on my shoulders the entire time?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I... I just want to try something. But I won't if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It... it doesn't," Starkweather lied. "But I move a lot when I play."

"That's alright."

Starkweather sighed and turned around. She closed her eyes and her pointer finger sought out middle C. The lone note resonated throughout the music hall. Autumn began whispering, chanting something under her breath.

Starkweather started to play the Adagio from Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata.' She felt her mind blank out, felt her body turn into one giant instrument. All she heard was the lovely music, her mother's favorite piece...

<<What should I play Mom?>>

<<Oh... that one by Beethoven? The one about the Moonlight?>>

Autumn continued to chant but she opened her eyes. The room was filled with spirits. They all wore clothing from different eras, as far back as the 1800's even, with the stiff collars and ties for men and long skirts and puffed blouses for the women. There were the spirits of priests and nuns, vagabonds and mayors, whites, blacks and every color in between. The children glistened like starlight while the adults were as pale as the moon. They all hovered near the piano, listening, enraptured.

One woman broke away from the ghostly crowd. She walked towards Autumn and Starkweather. Autumn moved away from Starkweather, still chanting under her breath. The woman, who had golden brown hair, creamy skin and big gray eyes put her hands on Starkweather's shoulders just where Autumn's had been. Starkweather's eyes were still closed. But she felt an incredible warmth course through her; energy she hadn't felt in years, since her childhood. And she heard a voice, a soft, husky feminine voice she hadn't heard since she was sixteen.

"You know where the answers are. You know what the answers are. You just have to believe. You know what to do, Jerilyn. Go. Do it."

Starkweather gasped and opened her eyes. She turned her head towards the sound of her mother's voice. But there was nothing there. There was no one there. Except for Autumn, smiling her strange little smile.

Starkweather was drained of color. "What did you do to me?" she rasped.

Autumn asked her, "Are you alright?"

Starkweather bolted from the room.

Her mother was right. She did have the answers.

She got into her car and drove to the radio station....

En Route to the Radio Station...

Starkweather, while trying to maneuver her crappy car through Sioux City traffic, whipped out her cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"John Doggett."

"Papa John, it's me."

"Starkweather? What are you doing? Our surveillance guy just called me and told me you left campus like a bat out of hell."

"I'm headed towards the station."

"NO. Starkweather, I do NOT want you near that station. Hear me? That is an order."

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me 'no'?" "God dammit Starkweather, you are a target."

"Proof?"

"That pink slimy shIt," Doggett got out of his chair and reached for his car keys and gun. "That same shIt that was there all the other times, with the exception of Cash and Widlowsky, those girls died. Whoever is killing those girls is targeting YOU. I don't want you risking yourself. Period." "Doggett, Reece Jackson IS Stuart McCoy." "How do you know?"

"I just **know**, okay. I'm going to the station to verify it right now. Once I get verification, we'll have a springboard to leap into nailing his ass... legally. Once we have his butt, the killings will stop. I guarantee it."

"Christ, you sound like Mulder."

"This will be the only time I'll take that as a compliment."

"At least wait until I get there," Doggett insisted. He was already out of his hotel suite and in the elevator.

"Fine." Starkweather pulled over on a sidestreet and parked. "What makes you so sure?"

"Haven't you ever just followed a hunch?"

"Rarely." "Well... me too, but I don't know Doggett... something about Reece stinks. I believe wholeheartedly he's really Stuart McCoy and someone at that station does not want any of us to figure that out."

"Someone... someone like maybe the GM?"

"What?"

"I had a interview with Tiesdale today. He was completely uncooperative. But he did let one thing slip."

"What's that?"

"His entire premise on why he won't release the personal records to the FBI is to protect the anonymity of the deejays. He told me that Reece has received death threats."

"Now WHY would someone want to threatened the pd of a country radio station?"

"Exactly." Doggett was to the parking lot.

"Reece gave me his home number when he called this morning to bawl me out that I wasn't there to do the early morning shift. I gave it to the Gunmen to see if they can do a personal check on him. Get his real name, address, so on and so forth."

"But you're pretty hellbent that it's Reece." Doggett stormed out of the elevator and through the lobby.

"Yes."

Doggett admitted. "Me too." He was already to the parking lot. "I'm on my way..."

Doggett was a block away from the station when he called Starkweather back.

"Starkweather, I'm five minutes away from the station."

"Alright, I'm right behind you," Starkweather started the car. When she got to the station, she noted a very heated argument already in progress between Doggett and of all people, Reece Jackson and Ace. She got out of her crappy Chevette and walked towards them. "What's going on?"

"I was just explaining to Agent Doggett," Reece said exasperated, "that it was totally cool for you not to come in anymore while he's here investigating."

"And I told Reece," Ace was quietly fuming, "that I told him that you weren't suppose to come in. In fact, what the hell ARE you doing here?"

All three men turned to Starkweather.

Starkweather froze.

Meanwhile.... The Lone Gunman's Lair

"Hot damn, I got it!" Langly stood up at his terminal, pumping his fist in the air in triumph. "Big piece of Better than Sex Chocolate Cake comin' my way!"

"That's the only 'piece' you're ever gonna get," Frohike grumbled.

"What do you have, Langly?" Byers asked.

"That number Starkweather gave us? Listed to one Stuart McCoy, 1812 Isabelle Street. And the boy's got a criminal record..." he said 'criminal record' in a sing-song voice.

"What'd he do?" Frohike asked. "Criminal mischief and trespassing, plead no contest, got off with 30 days and community service. Sentence suspended."

"When?" Frohike demanded.

"1984."

Byers read over Langly's shoulder. "The same time that Elizabeth Cash and her friends were implicated for the cattle mutilations."

"Well, I was checking into the other girl, that Melinda Widlowsky chick," Frohike said, acting on a request from Mulder earlier that day. "And check this out. She enrolled as a student at Rose Hill as a broadcast journalism student, just like her cousin. She applied for an internship, just like her cousin. The irony was, she was living at a hotel so obviously she wasn't planning on sticking around."

"Interesting," Byers mumbled. "But nothing legal to pin on Stuart. Nothing that will help the agents secure even a search warrant."

"This will," Langly said darkly. "They just might have to Al Capone him instead of sending his ass to jail for the crime that he really committed."

"What?" Byers said.

"I hacked into the IRS files on a whim..."

"Brave man," Frohike said.

"The IRS is getting ready to audit the radio station along with three personal wage histories."

"Oh? Really," Now Frohike was interested. "Who?"

"Well, I don't know who the Kayla Emmerstein would be, but they've got her listed, Stuart McCoy... and Ted Tiesdale. And check this out..." Langly clicked over to another application. "This is McCoy's college transcript. He never finished but check out his declared majors."

"Broadcast journalism and..." Frohike looked up at Langly. "Accounting. I'll be damned."

"And look where the cocksucker went to school..."

Byers read aloud. "Rose Hill College... gentlemen, we've got him."

Frohike pointed at Byers "You call Doggett. You," he said to Langly "call Reyes. I'll call Scully." "Why, do you think she changed out of the leather corset and crotchless panties?" Langly snickered.

"Shut up," Frohike was beat red

Meanwhile back at the radio station

"Well..." Starkweather hesistated.

Just then Doggett's cell phone rang. "Excuse me," Doggett growled as he saw on his caller ID who was calling.

Reece came up to her. "It's cool, don't worry about it," he told her. "I'm handling this prick. I won't let him interfere with your education."

Ace said softly "Reece, if the guy says it's dangerous for her to be here, then shouldn't we listen to him? He's with the FBI."

<<So am I>> Starkweather thought as she tried to discreetly watch Doggett's facial expressions as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone. She turned to Reece. "I don't want to be any trouble-"

"You're not, you're not," Reece said. "I listened to you the other night. You sounded good, sounded good."

Ace rolled his eyes, Reece didn't even notice. Starkweather didn't either. She was too busy watching Reece's face as he talked animatedly about how safe the station was and how the 'fibbie' was just freaking out.

"I know," Dr. Starkweather said patiently. "Reece, are you feeling alright?"

"Why?"

"Well... you don't look very well..." <<breath has a foul, sweetish ordure, teeth brown and rotting away, pupils dilated, consistent with pharmacological abuse... coke? No. Coke doesn't rot the teeth. Heroin... no he's too agitated. Pot... no, again, the agitation. Crystal meth??? Possibly...>>

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just don't like this suit messing with my station, you know what I mean?" Reece apparently felt very threatened by Doggett's presence. "I mean, catch the killer already and go away."

"Thank you," Doggett got off the phone and walked back to Reece, Starkweather and Ace, who was lighting a cigarette. He pointed at Starkweather. "I do not want her to set foot on this station until I say so." Doggett ordered brusquely. "There is no discussion about this matter," he said that for Starkweather's benefit as well as Reece's.

Of course Reece and Starkweather were instantly up in arms. "Hey man, you don't come in here and interfere with my station!" Reece stuck his finger in Doggett's face.

"Where do you get off???" Starkweather snapped at her partner.

"Jeri," Ace put his hands on Starkweather's shoulders. "Relax."

Doggett glared at Reece. "I just got confirmation on one of the personnel here at this station is a killer," Doggett took a step closer and got into Reece's face.

Reece challenged him. "Oh yeah? Who?"

"I think you know damn well who I'm talking about," Doggett put the squeeze on Reece. "And for your sake, that girl," he pointed at Starkweather, "better NOT be seen at this station, got that????"

Starkweather glared at Doggett in full fury. "I am a big girl, you know," she tartly reminded her partner. "Do I not get a say in this decision, Agent Doggett, **sir**," she finished snidely.

Doggett was in no mood for Starkweather's sarcasm, especially in light of the information he just received from Byers. "NO," He snapped at her. "Go back to school, Miss O'Brien."

Ace put his arm around Starkweather's shoulders and started to lead her away. "Come on, Jeri," he pleaded. "Come on and I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Starkweather, after throwing Doggett one last angry look, allowed Ace to take her to his truck and drive her away.

Doggett turned to Reece, contempt distorting his handsome, craggy face, his brilliant blue eyes frozen with rage.

"I'm gonna nail your ass to the wall, Reece," Doggett promised him.

A sly, weasally smile crossed Reece's swarmy face. "You have to prove it first," Reece cooed. "And I was out of town when Laura Light died."

"Oh... I'm not talking 'bout Laura Light and you know that," Doggett said softly. "I'm talkin' 'bout obstruction of justice, interfering with a federal case." Doggett did not tip his hand, did not let Reece realize that he was on to him and his double-life, but he did let him know that he was being watched very very closely... feeding into his paranoia.

"How am I interfering?" Reece demanded. "Just because I want my station to run business as usual?"

"But it ain't business as usual," Doggett advanced another step. "You've got a pack of dead girls on your hands. And you're gettin' in my way for catching the killer and you're putting another girl at risk. You best either work with me, or I'm gonna put your ass in a sling. That's a promise," And Doggett walked away, leaving Reece wondering what the hell to do with the latest curve ball to his life.

As Doggett got into his rental car, he called the Sioux City Police Department and informed them of the latest development in the case "And consider Reece Jackson aka Stuart McCoy a flight risk."

"Duly noted Agent Doggett."

Doggett hung up. And sighed. Now to track down Starkweather....

Meanwhile...

Starkweather sat in the passenger side, elbow propped up on armrest, chin on fist, lips folded down in a wicked pout. She was one pissed off woman. Ace looked over at her, a little nervous and turned on the radio. Thankfully for Starkweather, it wasn't the country station, it was the local rock station, Sweet Sexy 96. The Bare Naked Ladies were playing:

"Chickity China the Chinese chicken Have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' Watchin' X-Files with no lights on We're dans la maison Hope the Smoking Man's in this one..."

Starkweather jumped at the words 'X-Files.' "What the hell?!?!?!

"What?" Ace asked, confused.

"Did they just say 'X-FILES'?!?!?!?!"

"Yeah.... haven't you heard this song before?" Starkweather, who listened to primarily Dvorak, Beethoven, Mozart, Kid Rock, Emimen and Drowning Pool, said, "NO..." Starkweather leaned back into her seat. Then burst out, "Did they really say 'X-FILES'???"

"Yeah... it's a great show."

"WHAT!??!?!?!" "Are you okay?"

Starkweather looked at Ace. "No..." <<My God... my job has been made into a TV show!?!?!? Do Mulder and Scully know???>>

"Wanna talk about it?" Ace offered. For a wild minute, she seriously thought he wanted to talk about her career with the X-Files Division until he said "You seemed pretty upset at the radio station."

"Oh..." Starkweather shrugged as he pulled into Perkin's parking lot. "Chalk it up to my unflattering Femi-Nazi stripes showing through."

Ace got them a booth in the smoking section. "Smoking is bad for you," Starkweather said primly.

"Does it bother you?" Ace instantly but not annoyingly so, asked.

"No, my hus--uh... fiance smokes."

"Fiance, huh? A shadow of disappointment crossed his face. "Figures. All the cute ones taken." A sly, half- flirtatious, half-joky smile crossed his big honest face.

Starkweather smiled. She really liked Ace. "What about you?"

"Oh, I have a girlfriend," he took out his wallet showed her a picture. "That's Brittany," he said pointing the the attractive young woman with long black hair and big brown eyes, "and her little girl, Angelina."

"She's really pretty," Starkweather said politely, then quipping "and the girlfriend's not too shabby either," her eyes twinkled with mischief.

He looked at her, saw the wicked glint in her hazel green eyes and laughed. "Yeah... she's alright. It's kind of tough to maintain a relationship with the hours I work but..." he shrugged. "We've been together for about... two years now?" "Is Angelina your daughter?"

"No..." Ace looked sad. "I love her like my own. Sometimes I love the kid more than the mom but..." he shrugged again. "What about you? What's your man's name?"

"Ben."

"Ben... huh. And where's Ben at?"

"Washington DC."

"Washington??? Jesus, girl, what are you doing HERE??"

Now Starkweather shrugged. "This is where I need to be to get my shit done."

"And what the hell is he doing up in DC?"

"Working at a lawfirm."

"Wow... does he like it?"

Starkweather hinged. "He likes the lawfirm... he hates DC."

The waitress interrupted to give Ace an ashtray and both of them glasses of water.

Starkweather ordered a coffee ("For now") and Ace ordered a large Coca-Cola. After the waitress left, he asked, "Where does he want to be?"

"Minneapolis."

"Why Minneapolis?"

"It's his hometown. It's where he grew up, it's where all his family is."

"Where you want to be?"

"Washington DC."

"Really...." Ace looked at her, a funny smile on his face. "You guys are kind of ass-backwards then. Why DC?"

Starkweather tried to create an honest answer without blowing her cover. "I love the city. And... I have a brother and a nephew out there that are pretty important to me." Now Starkweather beamed. "I'm just crazy about his kid. He's the most precious little boy. Plus I'm really close to my brother's significant other."

Ace arched an eyebrow. "Um.... is the significant other male or female?"

Starkweather giggled. Okay maybe she was a little TOO ambigious. "Female. Fox is my brother, Dana is his girlfriend. Will is their son."

Ace mulled the names over. "Fox and Dana..." he smirked, "now if you tell me their last names are Mulder and Scully, I'm going to crap my pants," he joked with her.

Starkweather smiled wanly. "Yeah... we tease them about the X-Files all the time..." <<Okay, time to get off this subject.>> She should have made up names for Mulder and Scully but honestly didn't think Ace would connect 'Fox and Dana' with 'Mulder and Scully.'

<<and what's up with this TV show???>> Starkweather wondered. But that was a mystery to be pondered over later. "But that's pretty much why I want to be there." <<Other than my entire life and my cat are out there...>>

"What about Ben? Does he want to stay out there?"

Starkweather looked down into her coffee cup. "No. He's miserably homesick."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she said, looking up. "It's not your fault. It's just something we'll work out. We'll figure out something..." <<Divorce, maybe...>> she sighed inwardly.

"You're pretty used to handling things on your own though, aren't you?" Ace asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Starkweather leaned into her hand.

"Well, I thought you were going to rip the FBI guy's head off," Ace said mildly.

<<That's because Doggett knows fucking better>> "It just annoyed me that he was making decisions without my input," she said honestly.

"But he's an FBI agent," Ace reminded her gently. "That's his job." <<It's MY job too!!!!!!!>> "Then why did he even allow me to be uprooted from my home to come here?" <<That is NOT what partnership is about, Papa John!!!!>>

"That I can't answer," Ace said with a sigh. "But I really think the guy has your best interests at heart, Jeri."

"Yeah, I know," she said dishearteningly. <<That's what makes it worse...>> "What do you think is going on at that station?"

"Me?!?!" Ace pointed to himself. "Fuck, I don't know. I mean, I started there about four years ago as a part-timer. Then I was promoted two years ago to full-time overnights. I heard the rumors about the station being haunted by a crack-whore who OD'ed in our parking lot, but," he took off his black baseball cap, ran his fingers through his long blond hair, (not blond and greasy and long like Langly's, but blond and silky and long, well-kept) and put his hat back on. "Sh*t, then this one intern died three years ago, then another one a year or so ago and now Laura Light. Jesus, it's just creepy. That's what I think anyway."

"Have you... seen anything weird while working overnights??"

"Weird? Well, sure you see lots of weird shit while working graveyard. One of my first nights there, it was around the Fourth of July... some of my buddies thought it would be funny to light a bunch of firecrackers outside the window to FM control. I about pissed myself. I fell to the floor. It sounded like a god damned gun. Another time, I'm alone, and this big dude taps on the window, wearing a black trenchcoat. I thought I was gonna die. He motions to...you know... open the window, so I do... and he asks if I can play a song for him. 'Forty Hour Week' by Alabama. Turns out, he's a cab driver who works overnights too. Now he just comes downstairs and we hang out until he gets a call to bring some drunk home from the bars. And he always wants to hear 'Forty Hour Week.'" But like ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night," Ace shook his head. "Nah... personally I think all that talk about ghosts and stuff was horsesh*t," he was thoughtful for a moment. "Laura believed it though."

"Really?"

"Well... I shouldn't say BELIEVE-believe. But she was definitely convinced that there was something wrong with the station. I'd come in late at night like I always do, and she'd be white as a sheet because... oh... she'd hear a strange noise or she thought she hear voices down the hall. Personally I think someone was fucking around with her, trying to scare her." Ace became very quiet. "Maybe I should have taken her seriously."

"Well..." Starkweather said. "How were you to know?"

"Yeah... but I **do** know now... and that's why I wanted to talk to you a little bit Jeri. I mean... yeah, what's going on sucks, but Jesus, a girl freakin' died in FM control and nobody knows why. Or sayin' why. But if that FBI guy says to stay away, he's got to have a good reason."

"True..." Starkweather said. <<I'll stay away from the station if I have to... but he better NOT take me off the case!>>

Just then her cell phone rang. Starkweather answered. "Hello... oh hey Ben," she said. "I'm sorry," she said to Ace," I have to take this."

"It's cool, want me to order for you if the waitress comes while you're gone?"

"Um... yes... I want a cheeseburger with the works. Fries. A small garden salad and a piece of apple pie."

"Damn..." Ace eyed her small frame. "Don't they feed you?"

Starkweather smiled and went outside. Once alone in the parking lot, she hissed

"Doggett, I could kick your teeth in!!!"

"Well," Doggett said mildly "before I order a set of dentures then, let me tell you what Byers just told me."

"What's that?"

"We have confirmation that Reece is dirty. Legal, can-get- a-search- warrant-throw-his-ass-in-jail-toss-the-key, confirmation."

"Hot damn. Tell me." After Doggett gave her the low down, Starkweather cursed. "Dammit, I don't want him to go to jail for tax evasion, I want him to pay for what he did to those girls."

"So do I Starkweather, but we have no legally gained proof of that. Just a lot of hoo-doo, voo-doo, hocus-pocus shit you, Reyes and Mulder came up with."

"I know all of that sounds like a crock. And you KNOW how I feel about the supernatural."

"And yet YOU are considering it to be a possibility."

"Doggett, what does your gut say? Is he or is he not guilty of peddling bad dope to Elizabeth Cash, causing her untimely demise, sparking a chain-reaction with Melinda's suicide to these other girls' suspicious deaths, be it they died through natural, unnatural or supernatural causes?"

"I think Reece is guilty as hell."

"Then work with me on this," Starkweather pleaded. "Papa John, I know you're scared for me and I appreciate that, but what good can I do hiding?? We are so close to the station, I can almost taste it. I can't figure out what the missing link is if I just hide out at the college." When Doggett didn't answer, Starkweather pressed on. "Come on, Doggett! I've been in worse situations before. The warehouse where they took Ben. That whole mess in Scotland on my first case with you guys. And don't forget, I was with the narcotics squad when I was in the field office in the Twin Cities. I've got my gun on me at all times and with you watching my back, how can anything go wrong?"

"This is totally against my better judgement."

"Doggett, everything will be fine. I promise. If I even thought there was a chance I'd bite the big one... but it's gonna be all good, I swear."

"'It's gonna be all good'?" Doggett quoted her. "You've been hanging out with those college girls too much."

"Then I'm coming to the station for my airshift tomorrow." Starkweather said. "And I'll be there," Doggett said. "I finally get to talk to Alice Meecham tomorrow morning."

"Alright," Starkweather said. "I gotta go, Ace will start worrying."

"Ace???" There was a trace of teasing in Doggett's voice.

"Enough," Starkweather said and hung up....

MUCH later that night... Rose Hill College

When Ace finally brought her home from their impromptu dinner at Perkins, Starkweather was bone-tired. Her very bones ached from lack of sleep. All she had on her mind, to be perfectly honest, was her bed and her pillow...

So it was to her great dismay that Tori and her gaggle of squally friends were all in their dorm room in front of the TV. They were all sobbing hysterically.

"What's the matter?" Starkweather asked wearily. <<Like I care...>>

Tori mopped her face with a Kleenex. "We're watching 'Return to Me.' We're at the big cry scene."

"'Return to Me'?"

"Oh my God, do you live under a rock??" Tori said, seizing the remote control from Jennifer. "It's a totally awesome movie with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny." She rewound the tape. "This scene just TOTALLY kills me. Omigod, it's so sad."

And Starkweather got her first taste of David Duchovny's acting. She probably would have enjoyed it more if the three girls hadn't completely dissolved into noisy tears when Duchovny's character whimpered to the giant dog "She's not coming home."

Mandi grabbed handfulls of Kleenex "Omigod, doncha just wanna **hug** him??" she sobbed.

"Poor baby," Jennifer whimpered. "I wish I could make it better for him." She too took more Kleenex. "Rewind it one more time."

Tori did. "She's not coming home, boy... she's not coming home..."

"WAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" All three girls howled.

Starkweather grabbed her pillow and left the room unnoticed. She padded down the hallway to Autumn's door. She knocked.

"Jerilyn?"

"Can I crash here?" Starkweather begged. "I've got the David Duchovny Estrogen Brigade in my room."

"Oh lord, is the Barbie Posse having another Duchovny marathon night?" Autumn groaned as she let Starkweather in. "Mandi used to live next door to me. She and her nitwit friends used to keep me up at night whenever they had their movie nights." She sighed. "At least they have good taste. He is a sexy bitch," she snorted. "Too bad they're all too chicken to watch the X-Files."

"Okay, since when has the X-Files been a TV show?!?!?!"

Autumn stared at her, open-mouthed. "Since forever... it started as a spin-off TV show based on that god awful movie staring Gary Shandling and Tea Leoni. It was the kind of the same phenomenon as 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.' The orignal movie sucked, but when they made the TV show, they made the plotlines scarier and gorier and they cast unknowns in the leads, making them into huge stars. But Duchovny's leaving the show, so who knows what's going to happen. Maybe they'll dream up a new partner for Scully... why are you staring at me??"

"What if I told you the X-Files was a real FBI division and that's were I'm assigned to??"

Autumn's face lit up. "I'd fall to my knees, kiss your ass and beg for a placement when I graduate from the Academy."

Starkweather groaned. "I'm going to bed...."

August 9, 2001 The next day 0305 Morningside Drive 4:05 PM Central Standard Time

Special Agent John Doggett pulled into the driveway of a modest, two-story house. A Golden Retriever bounded off the porch to approach the strange.

"Down Skye, down, girl," the dog's owner, Jack Meecham ordered the dog. Skye instantly heeled. Doggett got out of the truck. "Are you the fed Alice's been talkin' 'bout?"

"That's right," Doggett stretched out his hand. "I'm Special Agent John Doggett. I heard congradulations are in order?" "Yeah, yeah," Jack Meecham, a big burly man who looked like an ex-biker with his thick beard and earring in his right ear, preened like a peacock. "Little girl. Named her Beverlee, after her grandmother. Tough little tyke. We had a rough time, as you may have heard."

"I did," Doggett said seriously as he was lead inside the house. "And I 'preciate you taking the time to talk with me. Hopefully this won't take long."

"I'll go get her," Jack said affably.

He left Doggett in their fairly spacious living room. Doggett put his hands in his pockets, whistled a tune to himself, looking around.

His eyes fell on a photograph. And his eyes widened in surprise.

Alice Meecham entered the room, still walking a little stiffly after the rough delivery she just suffered only a little while ago. "Are you the agent?" she asked, a shy smile crossing her face. She looked like Donna Reed.

Doggett looked at the photograph, looked at her. All the questions he had about her previous involvement with the occult flew from his head. "Mrs. Meecham," he said gravely. "My name is Special Agent John Doggett. I need to ask you some questions about your brother, Stuart McCoy."

Alice McCoy Meecham's face crumpled as she began to weep. "I knew it," she sniffled, "I knew that this was going to be about him." She slowly crossed the room to him and clutched the lapel of his jacket. "Please don't say anything to my parents. It would kill them."

"I can't promise that ma'am," Doggett said stonily. "But I can promise to keep this as confidential as possible."

"Is Stuart going to go to jail?"

"I can't answer that right now."

"Maybe," she wiped her eyes. "maybe he needs to go. Maybe that would be the wake-up call he needs. He's destroying his life, Mr. Doggett."

"I need you to tell me everything you know about him and Elizabeth Cash."

"I don't know a lot..." but she was white as snow.

"Mrs. Meecham, we want this matter settled as quickly and quietly as possible. And, unless we discover that you aided and abetted him in a crime, nothin' is gonna happen to you or your family." "I NEVER helped him with his filthy drugs," she snapped angrily. "When I was still a Wiccan, me and the other girls were so against it. I'm still against it. Stuart and I got into a huge fight about it one night because me and the other girls in the coven found out that Lizzie was using. That was the last time we ever spoke to each other. It breaks Mom and Dad's heart that we don't get along, but I could never tell them why." She slowly sank down on a footstool, sobbing.

"If your parents are to be notified about any wrongdoings done by Stuart, I will take the burden from you and tell them myself," Doggett promised. "But I need to know everything..." "Alright," the new mother sniffled. "alright..." She got up. "But let's go to the kitchen. I need a glass of water. Can I offer you anything?" Doggett shook his head and followed her to the kitchen.

Meanwhile... back at Rose Hill College

Starkweather and Autumn were watching television in the lounge room, the only room on the floor with air- conditioning. To be more accurate, Starkweather was at the table, reading her emails from the Lone Gunmen, Reyes and Mulder. Autumn was working on her book of spells or "Book of Shadows" as she preferred to call it. The television set just happened to be on. White noise, more or less.

"It's not like that crappy movie 'Blair Witch II, Book of Shadows', is it?" Starkweather had asked.

Autumn had cringed. "Oh goddess no. That movie sucked. And totally slandered on witchcraft. If you thought the devout bible thumping Christians were pissed about 'The Last Temptation of Christ'..."

But for the most part, the young women worked in silence.

Until Sandy bounced in. "Hey Jeri, 'sup?"

"Not much," Starkweather clicked on her screensaver. "Just doing some research."

"Man, don't you ever relax?"

"No," she said truthfully.

"What are you doin' tonight?" He pulled up a chair and sat by her.

"Well... I going to be on the air from six to midnight tonight..." When she saw Sandy's face cloud over in disapproval, she held up a hand. "I'm not going to be alone, there's a fed that's going to be there and they just told me (or actually Doggett emailed her earlier that morning) that the cops are going to be driving by the station twice an hour so it's cool."

"Okay..." Sandy said in a tone of voice that totally implied that it was NOT okay. "What time do you get off?"

"Midnight."

"Cool, wanna come party with us?"

"Where?" Starkweather really wanted to go straight to bed afterwards, but she had to 'keep up appearances.'

"Me and a bunch of people are going to 'Deuces are Wild'."

"What's that? A strip club?" Sandy chuckled. "No, no. It's a dance club... well... okay, I'm going to be straight with you, no pun intended."

"Huh?"

"It's a gay bar, but it's the only decent dance club here in town. A few of us are going. And no," Sandy said laughing. "I'm don't play for both teams, it's just a real cool place to hang out. Good music. Good times, y'know? Wanna come?"

He was asking a Naval brat and a retired Airman if she wanted to go to a gay bar. Starkweather knew it was not cool to discriminate on any basis, but her upbringing and training had conditioned her to feel uneasy. She was a full supporter of the military's decree of "Don't ask, don't tell."

But she was also looking at Autumn, who was sneaking peeks at Sandy over her spell-book. When she saw that Starkweather was watching, she hid behind the giant book and tried to melt into the couch.

<<She LIKES him>> Starkweather realized. And so, feeling a bit mischievous , she said yes to something she usually would have responded to with a resounding NO.

"Autumn, you wanna come with?" Starkweather asked casually.

Sandy turned around to regard the pale girl with the black dyed hair. "Hi," he said. "You're a criminal justice major too, right?" Autumn, looking like she was about to spontaneously combust, nodded. "And I think you were in my history class last semester too." Autumn squirmed. "Um... yeah, I sat three seats behind you in History 231."

"I remember your presentation on Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen," he said. "That was really good."

"Thanks," Autumn was completely tongue-tied.

<<Well, at least this is proof that she's a normal, mortal girl>> Starkweather thought.

"Alright, well, do you want to meet here at the school?" Sandy asked them.

"Sure," Starkweather said. Autumn only nodded.

"Cool. Later," Sandy smiled at both of them and left the room.

The minute he was gone, Starkweather turned to Autumn. "You LIKE him, don't you???"

"Oh shut up," Autumn tried to bury herself into her book again.

"Concocting little lurve-spells there?"

"Wiccans believe that it is unethical to put an unwilling subject under a love spell."

"Unwilling?"

"He doesn't like me."

"Doesn't like you?" Starkweather sat besides her. "I hate to break it to you, but he just doesn't know who you are."

"I'm no good with boys. I mean... I perfected the raging whore routine with I was still strung out on drugs but the whole boyfriend-girlfriend dating thing... I suck at that."

"You chicken," Starkweather teased her.

"Well, MRS. Starkweather," she whispered. "Some of us just aren't good with men."

"Hey, do you know how many idiots I had to go through before I found Ben," then Starkweather sighed.

"And sometimes you wonder if Ben's the right one." Starkweather shrugged. "Well, if he's not, it's too late now. 'For better or worse.' You know."

Autumn smiled. "It's never too late, Jerilyn." "That's right," Starkweather beamed. "And that's why when I come get you tonight, you are going to look cute and huggable and you're going to introduce yourself to Sandy and see if there's chemistry or not. And if there's not," Starkweather shrugged. "Well, then move on to the next idiot."

"Sounds encouraging," Autumn said tartly.

Later that night
The radio station
7:58 PM Central Time

Starkweather checked her watch nervously and looked out the window. Where the hell was Doggett? She had tried to raise him on his cell phone. Nothing.

Starkweather took a deep breath. <<Easy girl, easy>> she told herself as she nibbled on a fingernail. <<You're a big girl, you've got your gun, Ace is putzing around upstairs, it's all good, so get it together, girl.>>

Starkweather wasn't really worried about herself, she was concerned for Doggett. Just then, her cell rang. The number on the caller ID was from the police station.

"Starkweather?" Sargeant Van Der Diem knew her cell was a secure line. "This is Sargeant Van Der Diem at the SCPD. I'm just relaying a message from your partner. He was in an auto wreck-"

Starkweather immediately bolted up from her chair. "What?!?!?!" she squawked while keeping an eye on the time. She had five minutes before she had to go on the air to segue the two songs.

"Relax, he's not hurt. He just came from the hospital a few minutes ago. He's fine. His car got hit when he was leaving the Meechams. Some dumb broad ran a stoplight at an intersection. Totaled the rental car, but he's fine. He's with some Bureau folk that just came in from Omaha a few minutes ago. He's got to do some paperwork, fill out an expense report, a damage report. We've got a squad car on the way to take Doggett's place until he can get there, plus we've got the radio tuned to the country station. If we don't hear your voice, we'll know something's wrong..."

"Everyone is listening..." Starkweather said dully...

"You're covered, Starkweather, okay? We've all got your back."

"Great." Starkweather hung up on him and sat back down. "My God..." she never thought in a million years that **Doggett** could get hurt on this case, or any case. To her, he seemed almost invincible. The idea that he was in an accident made her feel ill. The song was drawing to an end... "Don't lets talk about Lisa Don't even start Don't lets talk about Lisa, please sir Lisa broke my heart... Lisa, she's off limits man Lisa broke my heart Ooh.. that'll leave a mark... You can talk about Hansen or Marilyn Manson And do you think they'll ever have a show down in Branson... Talk about desire Sosa or McGuire And is we in the fryin' pan or is we in the fire? Talk about what's real and what you really feel And how's about those mini-skirts On Ally McBeal Talk about the X-Files Macaroons and mistrials..."

Starkweather's mouth fell open. "My God..." she said before she opened up the mike. "The X-Files... they're everywhere..."

Despite the initial shock of hearing about her partner's accident, not to mention something she assumed was kind of a secret, mentioned in another song, she still had the presence of mind to go on the air and sound professional. Or, at least, try and sound professional:

"That... um... was Lonestar with 'Don't Lets Talk about Lisa.' Um... next up... is Deana Carter (she mispronounced her first name, saying De-Anna, instead of Dean-na) and her hit... Absence of the Heart... on the Big Dawg, KRRQ..."

Meanwhile
At the police station

Two of the officers listening her on the radio, chuckled. "Man, she sucks," one said.

"Yeah, she is not good," the other agreed with her.

Back at the station...

Starkweather slumped back into her seat. "God, I suck," she berated herself. She noticed that the beginning of 'Absence of the Heart' had a beautiful guitar intro. Then the lyrics made her want to cry: "I write you letters, but I don't send them I just can't figure out how to end them I try to reach you, you're right beside me There's something missin' and we can't deny that...

We live together separately We don't want to fall apart But every time we kiss There's an emptiness An absence of the heart

How did we lose it, why did this happen? When did we take it all for granted? We sit in silence, inside we're cryin' How can we keep our love from dyin'?

We live together separately We don't want to fall apart But every time we kiss There's an emptiness An absence of the heart...

I write you letters.... But I don't send them..."

And against her will, the memory of her last fight with Ben was summoned...

August 2, 2001
The day before Starkweather and Doggett left for Sioux City
Ben and Jeri's apartment
Washington DC
10:13 PM Eastern Standard Time

Jerilyn was angrily ironing a wrinkled white t-shirt as she snapped "I can not believe you're telling me this now."

The ironing board was set up in the living room. While Jerilyn was pressing the shirt that she planned on wearing on her flight to Omaha tomorrow. Ben was sitting on the couch, legal papers spread out all over on the coffee table. He was chain-smoking furiously.

"You asked," he countered.

Jerilyn slammed the iron on the ironing board with a thud. "This is not something you need to be telling me in August the night before I'm supposed to leave for an undercover case. This was something you should have told me in April before I accepted the job offer from Skinner to join the X- Files." "What," he lit another cigarette with the dying embers of the cigarette he had just finished "could you have done if you not an FBI agent? If you didn't accept the offer from Skinner, your old supervisor was going to find a way to 86 you out of the Bureau and you know that."

"I could do lots of things," Jerilyn said stubbornly. "I... I could have gone back and finished my rotations and clinicals and get my license to privately practice medicine. I could have re-enlisted in the Air Force. I could have gone on to get my masters. I could have become a classical pianist. There's lots of stuff I could have done if that SOB gotten his way and fired my ass."

"None of it would have made you happy."

"You- you- you-" she spluttered. "You think THIS is making me happy? Seeing you absolutely miserable? Having you get fucked up because of an X-File?" she demanded, referring to when Ben was kidnapped by members of the Syndicate when he started to poke and prod the case where Doggett and Mulder investigated a suspicious oil rig, the final case Mulder worked for the FBI in an official capacity. "That does not make me happy."

"Well then," Ben said, leaning into the couch, "then this discussion is at a moot point."

"If we're at a moot point," Jerilyn said dangerously, "why did you tell me you are miserable in DC?"

"You asked."

"I asked what was wrong."

"THAT is what's wrong," Ben fired back. "Jesus, what do I have to do to get it through to you that I hate this fucking city? That I hate being so fucking far away from my family? That I hate your fucking job? That I hate MY fucking job?"

"Then why in the hell did you agree to this???" Jerilyn raised her hands in the air, indicating the enormity of it all. She then pointed at Ben. "I **asked** you, Benjamin Starkweather. I laid it out on the line. I ASKED you if you thought I should join the X-Files and would you be willing to leave Minneapolis for DC and YOU said - quote - "I think you soon go for it. I think WE should go for it." - unquote."

"I made a mistake," Ben was standing now. "I was wrong. We should have stayed."

"Oh, so now you're going to make me guilty and miserable for the rest of my life because you made a mistake and you weren't honest with me with your reservations when I asked you in April?"

"And if I would have said no, you would have made ME guilty and miserable for holding you back!"

Jerilyn glared at him. "Nobody," she challenged him. "Can hold me back."

Ben went around the coffee table to get in her face. "Are you implying that you would have left for this hellhole if I would have said I didn't want to go?"

Jerilyn held her ground. "Seeing how much of an ass you're acting now, maybe I should have."

Ben's fists clenched tighter. "Goddamn it Jerilyn," he hissed, "I am tired of being the bad guy. I am tired of being the villain husband who is trying to shackle his noble law-enforcing wife to the kitchen. What in the fuck has the X-Files done for you? What is so god damned important in that dungeon at J. Edgar that you're sacrificing our marriage for?"

"Well... excuse me all the way to hell, but I was under the assumption that a marriage was a two-person kind of deal. That BOTH of us had to work at it. And I'm sorry, but ever since you've gotten out of the hospital, you've been buried up to your eyeballs in legal crap from Carter, Spangle and Adams. This is the first night that YOU'VE been home before eight o'clock. And what are we doing? We're fighting. Shock and surprise."

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. He dropped his hands. Looked at her, hopelessness darkening his already deep brown velvet eyes. "We're not going to make it, are we Jerilyn?" he asked, like a sad little boy who was told that Santa Claus wasn't real. Jerilyn slumped down onto the footstool. Their giant cantankerous tabby cat, Caesar, leaped into her lap, purring. Absently, she petted the enormous feline as she looked up at her husband, shaking her head. "Not the way that we've been going, baby," she said softly. "And I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to fix it. And I can't quit the X-Files. Not now. I'm in too deep."

"You make it sound like the Mafia."

"Ben, I couldn't get out now even if I wanted to. Like it or not, you and I have big bull's eyes on our asses because I have the supreme luck of being Fox Mulder's fucking little half-sister."

Ben knelt beside her. "This is killing our marriage, Jeri."

Jerilyn laughed without mirth. "That's a news flash?" She pushed the cat off of her and buried her face in her hands.

"I can't... Jerilyn... I really hate DC. I really hate the X-Files."

Jerilyn looked at him, pleading. "Ben, let me handle this case in Iowa, okay? Just let me do my thing, I'm only gonna be there for two weeks, max, maybe I'll even be home sooner. And when I get back, we'll figure something out."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe find a marriage counselor, I can go through EPA at work, maybe you can talk to a priest, something. I just... Ben," she said in total honesty and seriousness. "I can't... I just can't sit here and let us fall apart like this. Whether we like it or not... even if I quit... the X-Files is a part of our lives now and we've GOT to find a way to deal. Until they can figure out a way to go back in time and fix what once went wrong," Jerilyn shook her head, "Baby, I'm sorry you're miserable, but I can't leave. Not now. Not after everything that's happened these past few months. So short of you leaving me to go back to Minneapolis... " she held her breath.

Ben looked at her evenly. "Maybe me going back to Minneapolis is an option we might have to consider," he said painfully, slowly.

Jerilyn closed her eyes. "So much for 'For better or for worse.'"

Ben caressed her long, pretty hair, worn down that night, shielding her face like a veil. "I'll try and find a councilor or something while you're gone. I'm not going to let you go without a fight Jerilyn, but..." he gulped. "We might have to be adults and face the fact that we might have irreconcilable differences." Jerilyn felt like she was punched. "Because of a city?" she asked in a small voice. "Because you don't like DC?"

"Not just that," Ben said. Every word he spoke hurt him terribly, but he couldn't deny it anymore. It had to come out. "Because... because I don't trust you anymore, Jerilyn."

Jerilyn's head jerked up. Her hazel eyes sought him out, the hurt radiating nakedly from her face. <<WHY????>> the unasked question screamed from her but they both knew why. They both knew the mistrust was unjustified, but it was a real issue, one more needle thrust into the voodoo doll of their wedding vows.

John Doggett. Despite everything, Ben could not let go of his jealousy for Doggett. Or would not.

And that was more likely to be the nail sealing the coffin to their marriage rather than little gray men, a smoking man or other things that go bump in the night.

Back at the station
present time...

"Jeri?"

Starkweather jumped at the sound of Ace's voice. "Yeah?"

"You let the song run out..."

"Huh... oh crap!" Starkweather had been so lost in her thoughts, she had forgotten to cue up the computer to play the next song. Quickly she fixed her error and "the music of pain" twanged and wailed through the airwaves again. "Dammit," she muttered.

"Are you alright?" Ace asked.

"Sure."

"Liar," he said not unkindly. "What's wrong?" When Starkweather didn't respond, he answered for her. "The boyfriend, right?"

Starkweather moved her head around to crack her neck. "Is it that obvious?" she snorted.

"Well... it sounds like a tough situation, you being here and him being all the way out there."

Starkweather shrugged. "Well... really... there's not much I can do about that..."

Ace against the counter, folded his arms across his chest. "Well, then what's wrong?" he asked. "If it's not the distance thing?"

"Well..." Starkweather hesitated again, not wanting to lie to him, but then again, had to be very very careful about her cover. "He hates my job." That was the truth. "He doesn't like my side of the family very much." Also true. Ben barely tolerated Mulder and had no love for the Admiral after he learned of Jerilyn's adoptive father's part in his kidnapping.

"And??" Ace prodded.

"He's got big issues with jealousy," she muttered. A big truth right there. "Ah, damn, girl..." Ace said sympathetically as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "How bad?"

"Bad? His jealousy?" Ace nodded. Starkweather contemplated the size of the green monster on Ben's shoulder. "Well... I mean... he doesn't go around beating the crap out of every guy that looks at me... and he never had... I... I don't how to explain it fully. I mean, I've never had to deal with a jealous boyfriend... or anything before. I don't know if this is a new thing with Ben or a side of him that was always there and I just never noticed until now."

"When did you notice this?"

Starkweather paused, again to figure out how to tap-dance around his question. She realized how badly she needed to talk about this problem of hers and until now, didn't really know who to turn to. She didn't think Mulder would take her seriously and quite honestly, didn't want him to know anyway. She barely knew who Reyes was. She really hadn't felt very close to Scully until their impromptu- shopping spree a few days ago. Now she could have spilled her soul to her, but Scully wasn't here. Doggett, of course, had more in-depth information about her martial woes, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him a big chunk of their problems was that Ben was irrationally jealous of him.

Besides, he had probably already figured it out anyway, since Ben almost always lapsed into a childish sullen sulk whenever he was around.

So all that really left her with was this nice disc jockey with the crystalline blue eyes. Sometimes it was easier to unburden oneself to a stranger than a friend. The odd thing was Starkweather realized as she started talking, that she felt like she knew him forever.

"I... well... Ben and I... see... I have this friend... John. And he is like my best friend in the world. I mean, I trust my life with him," <<literally>> she thought "and he's... he's just... he's very dependable. He's... I don't know... he doesn't jerk you around, he very respectable, he's a tough son-of-a-bitch when he's got to be, but he's fair. And he's nice. And Do- John and I have always gotten along from Day One. But NOT LIKE THAT," she emphasized. "I'm committed to Ben. I am with Ben. Period, the end." "Ben doesn't get that."

"No, Ben doesn't get that. Which is what I don't understand because I've had male friends before and he so didn't act like this."

"Are you attracted to John?"

"Excuse me?"

Ace held up a hand as if to offset an attack. "Relax, relax. Just answer the question. Do you find John attractive?"

Starkweather squirmed. "Even if I did," she finally said. "What does that have anything to do with it?" "Lemme ask you this," Ace said. "What's Ben like?"

"What?" "You told me about John. What's Ben like?"

"Like?? Well... he's smart. Really smart. But, well, this may sound weird, but he's so smart, he has no common sense. Sometimes he just will not listen to reason. At all. But he's got a good heart and he always means well..." <<which just about got him killed>> she couldn't help but think, "He's fun... or he used to be."

"Used to be?"

"Well... before all of this, we used to go out and do stuff. Nothing huge, just hang-out type of stuff. Go have drinks at a bar, see a movie, rent videos. Nothing thrilling or ooh-la-la."

"What happened?" "I have no idea." Starkweather looked at her hands, at her left hand to be more specific, which usually bore her wedding ring, "But he seems to blame John for most of our problems, which isn't fair. He has nothing to do with anything. John is just Ben's convenient scapegoat," she finished bitterly. "I have to do the weather quick," she said, noting the time.

"Go ahead." After Starkweather blundered through the forecast and was off the air, Ace asked her pointblank. "Was Ben a nerd?"

"WHAT??"

"Seriously. Was Ben a nerd? A geek? Not good with girls?"

Starkweather had to think, really think hard. "God... well... he's not a nerd or a geek. He's..." she rolled her eyes. "Don't puke, but he's really cute...."

"Oh gawd, here we go..." Ace said rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, man! You asked."

"I asked if he was a nerd."

"I'm getting to that. He never acted, dressed or did anything geekish or nerdy. He was one of those who were unlucky in love, I guess? I don't know. He didn't have very many serious relationships before me. And..." she paused.

"And???" Ace prodded.

"I forgot about Courtney."

"Courtney??"

"Courtney Holy, Ben's high school sweetheart," she said slowly. "He told me bits and pieces about her, but I don't think I know the whole story..."

"She cheated on him, didn't she?"

Starkweather nodded. "Big time. They started dating when he was a senior, she a junior. I don't know if they talked about house, kids, picket fence, puppies and kittens or anything like that, but I know Ben was wild about her. Anyway, when he went off to college... Courtney started to play around. Broke his heart... but he waited for her. He even dated another girl for about six months... or was it a year... I can't remember... but they got back together for a little while and then she led him off on a merry chase again..."

"Then what happened?" "She died."

"WHAT?!?!?"

"She died," Starkweather, at a loss for words, shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "She was in a car accident and she died. That's all that Ben told me. I don't know what else to say."

"When did THAT happen?"

"Right before Ben started his senior year of college."

"Wow..." Ace said. "Wow..." he repeated himself. "Jesus. And you FORGOT about that?"

Defensively, she said "It's not like I really FORGOT about it," <<because I have an 99.9% accurate photographic memory so its not like I CAN forget about things>> "it's just that Ben doesn't talk about Courtney very often so it's easy not to think about her."

"Yeah, but it sounds like it was pretty recent..."

Starkweather opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Ace thought Courtney's death was recent. Ace thought Ben had just finished law school and Starkweather was a senior in college. Ace thought Ben to be at least twenty-four or twenty-five and Starkweather to be twenty-one or twenty- two.

Ben had finished law school almost two years ago, right before they had gotten married. He had only started practicing law NOW because he had flubbed the bar exam the first time he took it because he was so nervous. Not because he didn't know his stuff. Plus it took he almost a year to get up the confidence to re-take it.

Ben was going to be thirty next May and Starkweather was going to be twenty-nine this upcoming August. Courtney was killed when Ben was only twenty-two. It had been eight years. "Still..." Starkweather said but didn't finish the thought. Ace wasn't going to understand unless she told him the whole story and she COULDN'T tell him the whole story. ("By the way, I'm really not a college student, I'm a federal agent trying to figure out what the fuck's going on here and oh yeah, by the way, the jealous asshole I was talking about? Married him. Two years ago. He's talking divorce. I'm talking divorce. Neither one of us really has the guts to go through with it so we're just... well... fuck... living together with "an absence of the heart." Oh and one last thing? My "friend"?? John?? He's actually my partner, he's the "empty suit" sitting out in that hot car, sweating his ass off to make sure that I'm okay. Am I attracted to him?? Does it matter?? I'm married. Plus he's my partner. I'm no Scully and he's sure as hell no Mulder. History will not be repeating itself, no matter how much I reassure my husband. And that's what's fucking killing me. He doesn't trust me and I don't know what I did to deserve that.")

And Starkweather realized she couldn't confide in Ace after all and so once again she would have to struggle with the anger and the hurt created from her faltering marriage along with its by-products of loneliness and disillusionment by herself once more.

"It sounds like that Ben really hasn't recovered from the lost of Courtney and he's gonna compare every situation to Courtney, no matter how innocent it is," Ace reasoned as Starkweather's mind whirled out of control. "I dunno... You don't sound very happy."

"I'm not," Starkweather said bluntly. "But there's nothing I can do about it for the time being."

"Well... look on the bright side. At least you aren't married to him yet. You can still get out of this." Starkweather smiled gamely at him and wanted to cry. She opened her mouth to say something else when all the lights flickered in the studio. The computer bleeped frantically and died. Starkweather and Ace were plunged into darkness.

"What the fuck???" Ace said, bolting up. "I can't see a damn thing."

Starkweather was slowly bending down, pulling up her pants leg. She unsnapped the holster on her ankle. Her hand wrapped around the cool butt of her Beretta. "What the hell is going on?"

"Must be a short somewhere."

CRASH. BANG. Both Ace and Starkweather jumped. The lights flickered back on and the computers blared into life. Alan Jackson's hit "Midnight in Montgomery" wailed through the speakers. "Where these the kinds of noises Laura Light was talking to you about?" Starkweather asked, trying to control her shaking voice.

Just then, the policeman who was watching her in lieu of Doggett came barreling down the stairs and into FM control. "Everything ok?" he asked, huffing and puffing.

"I don't know..." Starkweather said. "We heard a crash. From the back." "It sounded like it was from the production studio," Ace added.

"Stay here," the officer said, unholstering his gun. Officer Ned Piltz carefully made his way down the hallway. He checked out each room. When he got to the production room, he froze, stock-still. He lifted his radio off his belt "I need backup..." he said, voice shaking.

Ace was nervous that a lone cop was roaming the station alone. "Stay here," he told her.

"Like hell," she fired back and got up when he got up.

Ace and Starkweather stepped out of FM control and both instantly shivered. "It's freezing in here!" Starkweather complained, wrapping her arms around herself.

Ace went up to the cop who was still standing transfixed in the doorway of the production room. "You okay sir?" Ace asked him.

Piltz turned to Ace. "Who was the last one to use this room?"

"Well... I was... I was in there about twenty minutes ago."

"Did... did it look like that?" Piltz pointed.

Ace and Starkweather peered into the room. Starkweather gasped. Ace said "Oh my Gawd..."

Normally the production room was cluttered with papers and reels. Two computer screens sat side by side on a shelf above a massive soundboard. To one side of the soundboard was a digital recorder, a CD burner and a CD player. To the other side of the board, on its own little cart was a reel- to-reel machine, the last of the dinosaurs in the station as almost everything was created with an intricate software program. One of the computer screens had been knocked over. It landed face down on the soundboard. Papers were still fluttering down, as if someone had just thrown them a little while ago. All the equipment was plastered in an iridescent pink ooze. "I was JUST fucking in here!" Ace exclaimed. "I cut a few spots about fifteen, twenty minutes ago."

Starkweather was beyond words. But she did back away from the room and slowly made her way back to FM control, watching her back and shutting doors standing open, FBI style. She bit back the urge to scream. She peered into FM control. Everything looked normal. Almost...

Starkweather looked at the computer screen. It was always dusty. Someone had wiped the dust away.

To be more accurate, someone had WRITTEN in the dust in the short time they had been gone:

YOU'RE NEXT LITTLE GIRL

Now Starkweather didn't fight the compulsion to scream. "ACE!!!!! OFFICER!!!!! COME QUICK!!!!" She backed out of the room.

Piltz and Ace ran towards the sound of her voice. Piltz was the first one to see the computer screen. "Jesus God." He turned to Ace, "Was-"

Ace finished his sentence. "No sir, that WAS not there when we left!" Ace put his arm around Starkweather protectively. She was shaking.

Sirens were in the distance. Piltz took Starkweather from Ace. "Everybody out," he said, guiding Starkweather up the stairs. Ace ran into FM control quick enough to grab Starkweather's backpack then he followed the cop.

When the other cops stepped out of their squad car, he thrust Starkweather at them.

"Take her out of her," he ordered. He then turned to Ace. "Can you stick around? We've got some questions for you."

"Sure," Ace said, but his eyes were seeking out Starkweather. He watched her as she sat down in the backseat of the squad car. He watched as they pulled away.

Once safely on the road and away from the scene, Officer Kranzberg turned to her. "You okay, Agent Starkweather?"

"NO." She took a deep breath. "Take me to Agent Doggett."

"I wish I could, Agent Starkweather, but we don't know where he is."

"WHAT?? What do you mean you don't know?!?!"

"We're trying to get a hold of him. After he finished the paperwork for the feds and the doc gave him the okay, he hit the road running. We haven't been able to get in touch with him."

"That's not like him," Starkweather snapped. "Find him."

"Agent, we're doin' the best we can."

"The credo of the mediocre," she snarled. "Find him. NOW."

"We're on it, Agent," Kranzberg snapped back, not liking that he was being ordered around by some whisp of a girl. "Now, what do we do with you?"

Starkweather took a deep breath. And took a chance. "Take me back to Rose Hill. Until I hear otherwise, I'm going to continue the cover. I'm supposed to meet the brother of the deceased to," she grimaced. "'Hang out.' Who's my tail?"

"I am."

"Goody. Get your dancin' shoes on..." Starkweather leaned into the back of the seat and took out her cell phone and dialled Doggett's number. "God dammit Doggett, where are you????"

Later that night...
Rose Hill College
Tori and Jeri's room

Starkweather let herself into the dark, miserably hot dorm room. She heard the soft sounds of Tori's breathing. Fumbling around in the blackness, Starkweather groped for a different shirt. She wondered about her sanity level for still going out tonight with Sandy and Autumn but hell, she was still convinced the boy contained part of the puzzle, whether he realized it or not.

After she threw off her sweaty icky shirt and slipped on a clean, cooler shirt (another mid-riff baring tank top) she slipped her cell phone out again. Double-checking to make sure that Barbie-Girl was asleep, she dialed Doggett's cell.

"This is Special Agent John Doggett. Please leave me your name, a detailed message and a phone number where you can be reached and I will call you back as soon as possible. Thank you." "Doggett," she hissed as quietly as possible. "Where the fuck are you, man? Is everything okay? Some crazy shit went down tonight at the station and I *need* to talk to you. Call me. I have my cell." She hung up and went to Autumn's room, quietly shutting the door and re-locking it. Tori opened her eyes.

Later on that night...

The Deuces Are Wild Club Sioux City, Iowa Autumn and Starkweather fell behind the others as they walked to towards the club, hidden on a sidestreet. "I don't know if this is such a good idea..." Starkweather mumbled.

Autumn rolled her eyes. "Oh get off of it," she said, a little irately. "It's good for you to have new experiences."

"I'm not talking about the gay bar," Starkweather snapped. She was beyond her military rearing and background now. She was more concerned about what was happening at the station and the location of her partner then about who-went-home- with-who-and-did-what. "I'm just wondering if-"

"-you should be here." Autumn stopped dead in her tracks. Put her hand to her heart. Paused.

"What is it?" Starkweather looked around. Sandy and the others had already gone inside. The cop car was sitting most obviously in the gas station across the street from the bar. But she was told it was usually there b/c high school kids liked to drag race down that road plus it deterred any hate-crimes from even starting if a squad car was RIGHT THERE.

"You're right," Autumn's hand dug into Starkweather's shoulder. "Let's go back. This isn't right."

"Do you honestly feel something is wrong or are you just nervous about impressing Sandy?" Starkweather needed to know. She had already been seriously freaked out tonight; she needed to know if something was not right for real or if the girl was having cold feet. Autumn shook her head. "It has nothing to do with Sandy. Let's go back. Please."

Sandy stuck his head outside the door again. He jogged out to Autumn and Starkweather. "Hey, what are you guys doing? You're not going to chicken out, are you?" he teased. Then he noticed their faces. "Jeez, you guys, you look like you've seen a ghost or something." He stood between the young women and draped his arms over them. "Come on, it's cool, I promise."

Against her better judgement, Starkweather said, "Okay." She followed Sandy back to the bar. Autumn hung back for a little bit. Starkweather motioned for Sandy to go ahead. Sandy shrugged and complied. Starkweather saddled up to Autumn and murmured "First lesson in FBI training. Never desert your partner. Stay close to me."

Autumn, despite her terror, managed to crack a joke, "I'll tell everyone you're my girlfriend."

"Terrific," Starkweather groaned and together, went inside...

As with most misconceptions based on bias, Starkweather discovered the visuals she had created about the bar where totally inaccurate. There were no pretty-boys swinging off of chandeliers or scantily clad drag queens. Granted, there were girls holding girls hands and guys with arms around other guys and a few drag queens but tastefully dressed. Then again, there was a pool table, a dart board, a round table where a whole mix of people were playing some sort of card game and a fairly large, but mostly empty dance floor. And it was very dark and smoky once inside.

The bouncer, a surly looking male, took Autumn's ID, patted her down and let her through after she paid the cover charge. Starkweather was sure to turn her back to the others as she held out her FBI ID. The bouncer's eyes widened but Starkweather put her finger to her lips. The bouncer nodded and patted her down as well, conveniently ignoring the gun strapped to her ankle. She didn't have to pay the cover.

"What are you drinking, Jeri?" Sandy offered. "I'm buying."

<<Long Island Iced Tea>> instantly popped into her mind. "I'll just have a Coke," she said sadly. "I'll be one of the DD's tonight." They had to take three cars, Sandy invited so many people.

Pretty soon, their group unclumped and started to filter around through the bar. Sandy found one of his friends from one of his classes and was introduced to her girlfriend.

Some of the others started playing pool, another pair went to play darts. Most of the college kids however, stayed by the bar to drink and to giggle most immaturely at the drag queens. Starkweather and Autumn sat down at an empty table. Starkweather looked at Autumn in envy as she took out her constant pack of Camels and lit up. "Times like this I wish I smoke," she confessed. "I'm a little bundle of nerves right now." Autumn offered her one, Starkweather waved them away.

"What happened tonight?" Autumn asked in a low voice. The music, some funky house music, was so loud no one but Starkweather could hear her. After Starkweather filled her in, Autumn took a deep breath and another drag of her cig. "Good lord."

"And what scares me to death is that no one seems to know where my partner is and I can't do a damn thing about it."

"He's fine," Autumn assured her. "He's near. He's got your back."

"Well, I wish he'd freakin' call me."

Just then, Sandy approached them. "Hey, 'sup?"

Autumn answered. "Nothing."

"Cool."

It always amazed Starkweather how college kids could hold a meaningful conversation without exceeding the three-word minimum.

"Wanna dance?" he asked Starkweather. Starkweather felt bad when she saw Autumn's face crumble just a little in disappointment.

Starkweather was about to say no when Autumn excused herself to go to the bar to refresh her drink. So she said "Okay," and let Sandy lead her out to the dance floor.

Starkweather didn't recognize the song playing but it had a good bump-and-grind beat. Sandy danced close to her, but not ungentlemanly close. Starkweather loved to dance and was grateful to have a good partner. Ben danced like the Tin Man from "The Wizard of Oz." Still, she kept her eyes peeled.

"Hey, what's up?" Sandy asked. Mischievously, he added "Afraid that your boyfriend's gonna come in and beat me up?"

Starkweather laughed. "Oh God no," she giggled. She saw Autumn reclaim her seat and nonchalantly smoke another cigarette. <<Time to put that poor girl out of her misery>> she decided. "You have a girlfriend?"

"Me? Nope."

"What do you think of Autumn?"

"Autumn?" He glanced at the girl in the short demin skirt, thigh high black boots and clingy top. Her long black hair was brushed away from her face. Her face was spared of any artifice except for some smoky eyeliner along the lashes, increasing her fey appearance. Starkweather thought she looked sensational and felt a pang of envy for Autumn was quite tall for a young woman and Starkweather was fairly short, barely an inch or two over Scully. Sandy checked Autumn out and turned back to Starkweather. "She seems cool."

"She likes you," Starkweather said bluntly.

"She does?!?!" Sandy was surprised, but didn't seem unpleasantly so. He looked at her again. "Are you sure?"

"She's shy," Starkweather lied.

Sandy checked her out again. "She doesn't have a boyfriend?" he asked, almost hopefully.

"Nope," Starkweather grinned.

But Sandy wasn't looking at Autumn anymore, he was glowering at a tall man eyeing them from a booth next to the dance floor. "Hang tighter to me," he grumbled. "There's an old dude checking you out."

Starkweather subtly turned her head. And felt her soul come alive.

Doggett. Thank God.

"Perfect," she broke away from Sandy. "You go hang with Autumn while I go torment the geriatric," she winked and sauntered over to Doggett. "Can I have this dance?" she purred as she leaned over Doggett.

Doggett had a small butterfly bandage on his forehead but other than that, looked fine.

"Jesus, Starkweather," he grumbled. "Do you know how damned uncomfortable I feel in here?" the ex-Marine complained.

"Doggett, you should open yourself up to new and exciting experiences," Starkweather purred as she took Doggett's hand and pulled him up. Fiona Apple's "Criminal" began playing...

"I've been a bad bad girl I've been careless with a delicate man And it's a sad sad world When a girl will break a boy Just because she can Don't you tell me to deny it I've done wrong and I want to Suffer for my sins I've come to you 'cause I need Guidance to be true And I just don't know where I can begin..."

"Where the HELL have you been?" Starkweather snarled angrily once she was safely in her partner's arms as they awkwardly danced. "And you dance like a stick."

"I was being followed," Doggett muttered in her ear. "That accident I had, was no accident."

"What the fuck happened? Did you get anything out of Alice Meecham?"

"I sure as hell did. Guess who Alice's little brother is?" "You are shitting me," Starkweather gaped, eyes widening. "REECE??"

"What I need is a good defense 'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal And I need to be redeemed To the one I sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love Heaven help me for the way I am Save me from these evil deeds Before I get them done I know tomorrow brings the consequences At hand But I keep living' this day like The next will never come..."

"Alice unwittingly introduced Reece to Elizabeth Cash. Turns out, Reece has some deep dark secret that both Alice and Elizabeth were keeping from the law."

"What? His drugs?"

"His drugs and his involvement in the cattle mutilations."

"WHAT???"

"Oh help me but don't tell me To deny it I've got to cleanse myself Of all these lies till I'm good Enough for him I've got a lot to lose and I'm Bettin' high So I'm beggin' you before it ends Just tell me where it begins..." "Reece and a bunch of his friends got stinking drunk and high one night and went to play a stupid prank. They went cow-tipping..."

"WHAT???"

"They went cow tipping and then someone got the bright idea to carve their initials into the cow's hide. Well. The damn cow died from shock. When the community assumed it was devil-worship, they made no move to own up to what they did. When the police came for his sister and his girlfriend because of their involvement in Wicca, he made no move to help them 'cause he knew he'd be looking at jailtime once it came out he was a small-time dealer."

"What I need is a good defense 'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal And I need to be redeemed To the one I sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love...

"Oh my God... tell me that this whole mess didn't start because someone thought it would be fun to tip over a COW?!?!?!" Starkweather moaned very-Scully-like while "the Mulder-side" as she was beginning to begrudgingly call that part of herself, could absolutely see the hilarity in this entire situation.

"Anyway, Alice and Elizabeth kept their peace and Reece got away with murder."

"Literally. So you think someone was tailing you?"

"Positive. I don't know how much they told you about the wreck I had, but a lady ran a stop light. I slammed on the brakes. Not only did the lady ram right into to me, but whoever was following me, slammed right into the rear of my car."

"Was it Reece?"

"I don't know, but he took off awful fast."

"So now we've got leaving the scene of an accident as well as all the other shit." Starkweather murmurred. "He's gonna fry for this. But where else have you been? I left like three messages on your cell."

"I know and I'm sorry, I got down here as soon as possible. I told Officer Kranzberg to watch you. You didn't win any points with him, by the way."

"Damn."

"I was making sure I wasn't being following while trying to wake up any judge in Woodbury County." "A judge???"

"I think I know where to look to find Elizabeth's locket and Melinda's ring."

"And we've got him on theft and major dealin'."

"And Reyes teamed up with the IRS. They've got a warrant for the station. He's gonna get nailed for tax evasion on top of that."

"Let me know the way Before there's hell to pay Give me room to lay down the law and let me go..."

"Can you get away from your buddies and do a little search and destroy mission with me Doc?" Doggett asked her.

"I've got to make a play To make my lover stay So what would an angel say The devil wants to know..."

Starkweather saw him before he saw her or Doggett. "Doggett," she whispered "Kiss me, now."

"WHAT?!?!"

"Dammit, Reece Jackson is HERE. We've got to get out here, follow my lead," she grabbed his tie and brought him closer, "I don't like this anymore than you do," she said before kissing him on the corner of the mouth....

"What I need is a good defense 'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal And I need to be redeemed To the one I sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love..."

One of the couples in a booth near the dance floor was watching Doggett and Starkweather's escapades. "Good God," one said to his boyfriend, "How rude. Do they think we wanna SEE that?"

His boyfriend replied with a sneer. "No kidding. The phrase 'Get a room' apparently means nothing to them." Doggett wrapped his arms around Starkweather's tiny waist like an ardent lover. As he crushed her closer to him, he murmured against her lips, "Is he watching?" Starkweather half-opened an eyelid and peered over Doggett's shoulder, which wasn't easy since he was far taller than she. "No. Let's get out of here." She turned her back, took Doggett's hand and led him out of the bar. She passed Autumn and dropped her a wink. Autumn nodded, understandingly, but she seemed startled when she saw who her escort was.

Doggett and Starkweather kept up the presence of lovers until they were a good block away from the bar. Then they dropped hands, "Starkweather, I could kill you," Doggett muttered.

"Once my husband finds out about this, there's not going to be anything left of me TO kill," Starkweather pointed out. "Where's your car?"

"It's-" Doggett started to say, but he looked over his shoulder. "We're bein' followed," he said. "Walk straight ahead," he stuck his hand in his coat jacket and unsnapped the holster to his gun. He put his arm around her shoulders.

"Who?" Starkweather didn't look behind her, just kept walking. They were heading into residential area. She could hear footsteps. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," Doggett said. "I don't know where I am."

"Great," Starkweather muttered. Then she stopped. "I don't hear anything anymore." Doggett and Starkweather looked around. "Are you sure you saw someone?"

"Pretty damn sur-"

"YEAHAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" A form dropped from a tree, landing on Doggett like a sack of wet cement, knocking Starkweather away from him.

"Jeri!!" A feminine voice cried out from behind them. Autumn to Starkweather's aid. "I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me," she said as she helped Starkweather up. "He was convinced you're in danger."

Starkweather shook her head and looked at the form pummeling Doggett. "Sandy," she sighed. "Get off of him."

Sandy had Doggett in a submissive hold, his hands behind his back. Doggett was still trying to wrest the kid off of him. "Got-dammit kid," Doggett fumed. "You don't know whatcha gettin' involved in."

Sandy looked at the two women. "Dammit, call the cops!" He insisted. "Jeri, this guy is bad news, I swear it, I've been watching him for the past few days. He's been stalking you. I know one of you got a cell phone. Call the cops!!!" Starkweather and Autumn looked at each other. With a sigh, Starkweather produced her FBI badge and held it front of Sandy's face. "Please get off of him," she repeated with the same air of boredom as before.

Realization finally sank in. "Oh shit!" and Sandy was off of him in a leap and a bound...

Later that night... Grandview Park Sioux City, Iowa...

The quartet trooped up the hill to the city park. Starkweather and Doggett had to admit that the part was lovely. Rolling hills, a huge outdoor amphitheater with benches lining it and a massive rose garden at the bottom of the hill. The full moon silverized the entire park while shadows gave it an aura of mystery. "It looks like a scene from a movie," Starkweather said as she sat down next to Doggett on a bench in the very back row of the outdoor concert hall.

"Yeah, this city does have it's bright spots," Autumn agreed.

"Well... lets still be careful because drug dealers like to come here..." A withering glance from Doggett and Starkweather stopped him. "Not that you guys have anything to worry about that, I mean."

"Sandy, I'm sorry I deceived you," Starkweather got to the point. "But I've been put undercover so we can figure out what the fuck exactly happened to your sister. Doggett and I scooted out of the bar tonight because the man we believe is responsible was there."

Sandy's face darkened. "Candi's killer was THERE," he muttered darkly. "How'd he do it?" "That's... complicated..." Starkweather hinged. "Listen, you're both criminal justice majors and you've both made noises to me how you'd like to join the FBI. So I hope you'd appreciate the seriousness of the situation. Sandy, we need to know everything that your sister may have said about the station. People, occurrences, whatever. It doesn't matter. What may seem insignificant to you may have great importance in putting this man away."

Sandy leaned against the bench back and sighed. "Look... Jeri... if that's your real name..."

"It's my real first name."

"I'm sorry, but I've been through this song and dance before with the cops. I told them everything that I remember. Its been documented in the police reports." "We're different from the cops," Doggett told the frustrated young man. "We deal with these kinds of crimes on a daily basis."

"Murders?" Sandy asked, still embarrassed that he jumped a FBI agent.

Starkweather jumped in. "Paranormal."

"WHAT?!!" Sandy squeaked.

Now Autumn put in her two cents. "It's true, Sandy, they're with the X-Files."

Sandy scoffed. "There's no such thing as the X-Files. It's a TV show."

"I assure you," Doggett said in all seriousness. "Fiction is often based on fact."

"So you're to tell me the X-Files are real? That there really is an Agent Scully and Agent Mulder out there?"

"Mulder is my older brother," Starkweather told him.

"You guys are nuts," Sandy got up. "If this is some elaborate joke, you guys are sick puppies."

Autumn grabbed his hand, "Why would they go to all this trouble to play a joke? You must listen to them, they're telling the truth."

"How do you know?"

"Well... I feel that they're telling the truth... and also... Agent Doggett and I met..." she looked at Doggett earnestly. "Many years ago. When I was a little girl and my friend Shelby was molested and murdered by her stepfather. Her stepfather came after me and Agent Doggett, who was a cop at the time, stopped him."

Doggett suddenly recognized the young lady in the short skirt and long black hair. "The Slater case... you're Imogene Chamberlain..."

"I go by my middle name now," she said blushing.

"No wonder," Sandy muttered, but he sat down. "Look... I'm sorry... this whole thing is overwhelming... I mean..." he shook his head. "It's not like me and Candi were real tight, she did her thing and I did mine, but Jesus... she was my sister and..." he stopped, clasped his hands tightly together.

"Sandy," Starkweather urged the college boy. "TALK to us."

Sandy looked up. "I just feel like it's my fault she died." "Sandy, you're smarter than that," Starkweather instantly told him. "Bad things happen all the time and it sucks. But guilt is like taking useless overpacked carry-on luggage through customs. It just jams up the journey from where you came from to where you need to be."

"Good analogy," Autumn credited her.

"Sandy," Doggett said very quietly. "Some time ago, I lost my son. He was my only child. He was kidnapped, tortured and murdered. Logically, I know I did everything in my power to save my son. Emotionally, I wake up each morning convinced that if I had did this one thing different or that thing different or would have gotten there ten seconds sooner, then Luke would still be here." Everyone sat in silence. "I don't know how to... shrug off my useless baggage as Agent Starkweather put it, but at least I can now put the baggage in storage from time to time when I know it's draggin' me. Kid," Doggett said as nicely as he could. "I know this is a very difficult time for you. But we need your help. We need your help so we can do everything to bring this criminal to justice."

Sandy took a breath. Autumn, over her shyness caused by infatuation, patted him on the back in a kindly manner. For the time, she did not see him as a yummy boy she'd like to get to know better, but a fellow human being in pain. "It's okay, Sandy. They're the good guys."

Sandy looked at the ground. "Candi and I went out for dinner and beers a few nights before she was killed. Like I said, my family, we're not the Brady Bunch, but we're still family. Candi and I always did our own thing once we both got into college but sometimes we'd hang out if we had a free moment and were bored. We started talkin' about stuff and she told me about some of her creepy moments at the station... stuff that no one would believe me if I said anything..."

"Try me," Starkweather said with a grimace, thinking of earlier that night at the station and tried not to feel freaked out.

"Like, stuff turning on and off by themselves. Lights, computers, the TV in the breakroom. She said she had always heard bumps and thumps in the night, but it was an older building so she never thought much about it. She said that the weirdness was starting to happen more and more though. She said that a few nights ago, she heard a commotion upstairs so she raced up to where the front desk is? She said paper was raining down like snow... like... like someone was playing fifty-two card pick-up with all the paper work. She said she picked up the papers and went back downstairs... and all the papers in FM control were scattered like they were upstairs. She said fortunately the old news guy, John Kelly, came in otherwise she said she would have freaked out and ran from there screaming...."

"What else?"

Sandy took a breath. "She said... she said she thinks she saw a ghost and asked me to come to the station the next time she had to work. She said she didn't like being there by herself anymore..." Sandy hung his head lower, if that was possible. "Well... I had to work that night too... I'm a waiter at Minerva's... this Italian place. I told her I'd ditch, but she said don't worry about it, it's cool. She'll find someone else, maybe ask one of the other jocks to stay. I guess she couldn't find anybody," Sandy said quietly.

Starkweather told him. "Chances are Sandy, if you had been there, you would be dead along with Candelauria."

Sandy looked up at her. "LOGICALLY... I know that..." he sighed. "Logically, I know that. There is something else though..." Sandy said.

"What?"

"Candi told me she told all the weird occurrences to her boss, Reece Jackson? The PD? She said he reacted... he weirded out on her."

"Explain," Doggett asked.

"She said he just... flipped. I mean... look, almost everyone hates him. Candi said he's two-faced and petty. He'd talk bad about whoever but then be syrupy-sweet to them once he's face to face with them. He expects the part- timers to live and die for the station, never mind the fact that a lot of them have jobs or school or families or whatever outside of the station. And I guess he's fucked things up royally. Like one time, Candi went along to some country concert somewhere, I don't remember where. Anyway, they brought along two people who had won backstage passes to go see... I don't know, some country star. I'm not a big country-western music fan m'self. Reece promised them that he had secured the passes..."

"Hmmm..." Starkweather said.

"Candi always referred to him as her 'crackhead boss' because he was always... well... she said when he's come in to do the morning show after she'd pull an overnight, he'd reek of pot. But she said he was too hyper to be a pothead...."

"Meth," Starkweather said. "Bet you twenties he's dipping into crystal meth now."

"Anyway... she said a few nights back, right before the shit started going crazy... Reece and the "big boss"... Tiesdale? Were having a huge knock-down drag out fight in the parking lot. She couldn't hear them, of course, because of the music. After that fight though... that's when it really got bad... with the creepy stuff." "Thank you Sandy," Starkweather said. "You've been a big help." "We'll walk you back to your cars." "We won't say anything," Sandy promised.

"We know," Starkweather said. "We know..."

The parking lot near Deuces Are Wild...

"When will you be back?" Autumn asked as she climbed into Sandy's car.

"Soon as possible, don't worry about us," Starkweather promised them. "Be careful."

She backed away from Sandy's car as he drove Autumn back to the school.

Starkweather turned to Doggett, "You ready?"

"I'm ready, but," he grinned, looking her up and down. "You may need a minute."

"Doggett, I really can't help looking like a Britney Spears clone right now, I'm sorry."

Doggett walked Starkweather to his car and opened the trunk. Pulled out a garment bag along with a shoebox. "I used up what was left on our Bureau card at Yonkers," he said solemnly. "I knew you didn't want to go in looking like **that**."

"Really?!?!" Starkweather beamed. "I took a guess at your size." Doggett said gruffly, turning pink now. "I figured we

wouldn't have time for you to grab official clothes at the school, so..."

"There's a convenience store right around the corner," Starkweather said. "I'll change in the bathroom."

And when she walked out of the ladies' room of the Kum and Go, Special Agent John Doggett smiled and knew Special Agent Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather once more. The lightweight black blazer was a bit long in the sleeves, but she solved that problem by rolling the sleeves into cuffs. The pants were also a little long, but the black heels Doggett got her were high enough so that didn't matter. She was just thankful he got the shoe size right. And the short sleeve silk blouse was blood red and one size too small but Starkweather didn't complain. She just undid the top two buttons that were straining at the top. And her magnificent mane of hair was pulled back again in it's uncompromising bun at the nape of her neck.

<<She looks like a badass>> Doggett thought with a grin as he leaned against the rental car, still in the same slate gray suit he had been wearing since eight AM the previous day. The sun now, was starting to rise. He held the search warrant in his hand. Starkweather approached him and straightened his blue and grey striped tie. She smoothed down his blue shirt and the lapels of his suit. "You got blood on your shirt," she noted.

"My dry-cleaner considers me his job-security," Doggett informed her. "You ready for this, Agent Starkweather?"

With a wicked twinkle that had been missing from her hazel eyes for the past few days, she grinned and said, "Bring it on, Papa John," and got in the car...

August 10, 2001
Devil's Hollow
George and Beverlee McCoy's farm
6:17 AM Central Standard Time

As Doggett navigated through the twisty gravel road, Starkweather looked up again to see the enormous metal statue of the Virgin Mary, her head in the clouds as her hands were raised up to heaven in supplication. Somehow, the place didn't seem as creepy as it did a few days ago. But then, daylight always had that effect on places.

Starkweather looked ahead and saw the valley behind the giant hills of Trinity Heights. Saw the neat groves of trees, the clean, white farmhouse with it's row of flower beds. "Oh my God," she moaned. "I feel terrible. We're going to ruin their lives."

"*We're* not ruining their lives," Doggett pointed out. "Their son did."

"I know but--" Starkweather bit her upper lip in apprehension.

"I know," Doggett said with a sigh. "They're nice people."

Beverlee McCoy was already up and outside, puttering about in her garden with a pair of clippers. She stood up and brushed the dirt off of her slacks. "Agents!" She said cheerfully as she walked to greet them. "What brings you back here?"

Doggett kept his promise to Alice McCoy Meecham. "Mrs. McCoy, we have a warrant to search the premise. I'm sorry, ma'am. We'll try to be quick."

Tears of shock sprang to her eyes. "A- a- search warrant?!?" The elderly lady spluttered and both Doggett and Starkweather hated themselves. "Why?"

"Mrs. McCoy, we can't get into that right now," Starkweather said kindly as possible as she and Doggett walked towards the house. "I'm so sorry, ma'am."

"Is... is this because George likes to dress up and scare those high school kids away?" "No ma'am, honestly, this has nothing to do with you or your husband," Starkweather said, hoping that was correct. Sometimes she really hated her job, especially when it made little old ladies cry. "Ma'am, this would go a lot quicker and a lot less painless if you could tell us where your son Stuart may store personal belongings that he may not have room or desire to keep at his apartment."

"Well... we've kept the kids' room pretty much the same," Mrs. McCoy said sadly as she trailed the agents into her home.

Mr. McCoy was relaxing in his Barcolounger, still nursing the knee Starkweather smashed when he surprised her and the Scooby-Doo gang from college just a few days ago. "What in the Sam Hill?" He demanded as he started to get up.

Doggett again produced the search warrant. "Sir, we have a warrant to search your home. Please remain where you are sir. We promise to be as quick and careful as possible."

Mr. McCoy became pale. Mrs. McCoy sidled up to him and took his hand. Both trembled in fear. Both Starkweather and Doggett really hated themselves a whole lot now.

"Stuart's bedroom is the second door to the left," Mrs. McCoy said sadly. "If you're more comfortable, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy, you can come watch us work," Doggett offered. Also, just to be doubly sure that they wouldn't unintentionally or possibly intentionally destroy evidence, he wanted to keep an eye on them. Mrs. McCoy followed the agents upstairs. Mr. McCoy, still lame from his first run in with Starkweather, stayed put.

Mrs. McCoy opened the door to Stuart's childhood and then stood back. Starkweather handed Doggett a pair of latex gloves before snapping on a pair herself and they got to work, damning themselves for each tear that slid down the frightened elderly lady's face...

Later on...
9:18 am
Stuart McCoy's childhood bedroom...

Doggett and Starkweather had all but tore the room apart, much to the dismay of Mrs. McCoy. She said nothing, but the entire time, kept folding and unfolding her hands nervously, occasionally dabbing her eyes with a white lace hankerchief. While Doggett stripped the twin bed and rummaged through Stuart's trophies from Little League and high school basketball tournaments, Starkweather went through the closet, dug through the pockets of old cardigans and outgrown blue jeans. She looked through a storage container of old toys and shook them mercilessly. She squeezed the life out of two old teddy bears and one doll, to see if anything had perhaps been stuffed inside. There wasn't. Two hours later, the agents had nothing. Standing in the corner of the room, next to a bookshelf where Doggett had gone through book after book, the agents conferred with each while Mrs. McCoy stood there, looking helpless. She picked up a teddy bear Starkweather molested and held it to her chest.

"Doggett, I don't wanna rip through their entire house," Starkweather whispered. "This is tearing them apart."

"Starkweather, this is our job," Doggett said, "we have to. I don't like this anymore than you do, believe me, but we have to. If we don't find that damn jewelry, we've got nothing to connect that SOB to Cash and Widlowsky."

"Maybe we're wrong," Starkweather felt herself faltering but couldn't help it. Normally completely heartless when it came to her job, the old lady who had been so sweet to them before was ripping Starkweather's heart out. "Maybe he did pawn them."

Doggett turned to look out the window. "I don't know, I don't know," he muttered as he turned. As he turned, his elbow knocked over a aloe vera plant that had been sitting on top of the bookshelf. The clay pot shattered on impact. Greenery and black dirt exploded all over.

"Ah shit," Doggett said, now feeling even worse.

But Starkweather looked down at the mess. "Doggett..." she said as she stooped down.

With the care of a anthropologist, she picked up a large clod of dirt that had a strange shimmer to it. She picked at the seam of gold at the side of the dirt clod and a long gold chain fell out as the dirt crumbled away. She brushed the dirt away from the rest of the clod, blew on it to gently remove the rest of the dirt particles and discovered it not to be a clod of dirt after all.

But an antique golden locket with a giant ruby sodered onto the front, surrounded by diamond chips. "Bingo," she said.

Doggett too, had gotten down. "And bingo," he said, picking up a smaller clod of dirt, working away the grime to discover a matching ruby ring. "Good eyes, Starkweather." He handed Starkweather the ring and went up to Mrs. McCoy. "Ma'am, you and your husband need to come with me, now."

Mrs. McCoy wept. "I've never seen that jewelry before," she sobbed, "who's is it?"

"Ma'am, we'll explain that later," again, Doggett kept his word to Alice Meecham McCoy. "Ma'am, your son Stuart is in a lot of trouble. We just need to ask you and your husband some questions. Nothing more. You and Mr. McCoy are not in any trouble," he said with confidence. Mrs. McCoy looked too bewildered to have been involved and he seriously doubted that Mr. McCoy knew what was up as well. His cop instincts told him that these poor people were clean.

Now he felt a wave of hate for Stuart McCoy... Reece Jackson... whatever. <<What a piece of shit,>> he thought <<to use his family like he did...>>

Starkweather put the ring and the necklace in one Ziploc bag. She took the little Poloroid that Doggett kept in his car and started taking pictures. Just out of curiosity... she took some dirt from the plant as well. Be interesting to see if this dirt and the dirt from the lot near the station matched.... maybe Autumn wasn't so far off after all... Starkweather went downstairs.

Later on Rose Hill College
Tori and Jeri's room
10:59 AM Central Standard Time

Starkweather had changed out of her suit and back into her college gear before returning to the dorms. She peeked her head into her room. Tori, thankfully, was gone. Starkweather's eyes were falling shut on their own accord. She was so sleep-deprived she wasn't even watching where she was really going. She just remembered locking the door behind her and stumbling into bed.

Later still.... 2:56 PM Central Standard Time

Tori let herself in. She glanced down at Starkweather's comatose form with a sniff. Then she did a double take. Her mouth dropped open.

Starkweather's jean leg had ridden up in her sleep, revealing her secret.

Never being so close to a weapon before, Tori froze at first while she felt her bowels liquify. When it was apparent that Starkweather was out for the count, Tori crept closer, trembling. She knelt down beside Starkweather's bed. She sat there, indecisive. Then, with trembling hands, remembering the strange conversation she overheard her have on her cell phone last night, she undid the holster snap and lifted the Beretta out. It was heavier than she expected. Starkweather did not even move. Tori, still shaking badly, reached for a towel in the hamper. She wrapped Starkweather's gun in the dirty towel and left the dorm room, locking the dorm behind her.

She made a beeline to the Resident Coordinator's apartments......

3:16 PM Central Standard Time There was a loud pounding on the door. Starkweather bolted awake out of a dead sleep. "Who is it?" she called out bewildered.

"Security," a deep-voice boomed. "Open up."

Starkweather blinked sleep out of her eyes. She ruffled her lion's mane of hair and padded barefoot to the door. Opening it, she saw two security guards, not the ones selected from the student body, but rent-a-cop security guards. "Can I help you?" she asked, still sleepy, still slightly confused.

The bigger of the guards grabbed her roughly by the arm. "You need to come with us ma'am," he said meanly as he drug her out of her dorm room.

"OW!!! WHAT THE FUCK??" Starkweather squealed but she allowed the two idiots to bear her away. What choice did she have? They were bigger than she was...

Preston Erwin, Resident Coordinator's Office 3:24 PM Central Standard Time

The two rent-a-cops hauled Starkweather into Preston's office as if she was a dangerous criminal. "Let go of me," she snapped, shaking them loose. She turned her head to the left and noted the two "for-real" cops standing there. They recognized her and could barely keep a straight face. One of them was Officer Kranzberg, the cop who's head she nearly ripped off last night when Doggett was nowhere to be found.

"Sir," she said to the weasel-like little man sitting smugly in his desk. "What is going on??"

"Miss O'brien," the little man nasalled. "There has been quite a few complaints about you."

"REALLY," Starkweather drawled. "Well, golly gosh darn, sir, I sure am sorry and I promise to be a better Rose Hill College student, but I overslept and I really have to-"

Preston placed a bundle wrapped in a towel on his desk. Meticulously, he unwrapped the towel to reveal Starkweather's Beretta. He folded his hands on top of his desk.

"Oh shit," Starkweather groaned.

"Is this weapon yours, Miss O'brien?" Preston queried, quasi-polite. One of the rent-a-cops cracked his knuckles.

"Tori," Starkweather put her hand to her forehead. "Dammit. Did she bring this to you??"

"So you're admitting that this weapon is yours?" Preston said, delighted that he, almost single-handedly prevented a potentially deranged young woman on wreaking havoc on his happy little school.

"Yeah, can I have it back?"

"WHAT??" Preston's jaw about hit the floor. "Why you little, impertinent... snotty.... Of all the nerve, you, who have done nothing but cause trouble since the day you started here-" he blustered as Starkweather reached into the back of her jean pocket and pulled out her FBI ID. The rent-a-cop who popped his knuckles reached out and grabbed her arm again.

"Remove your hand, good sir," Starkweather purred. "And thou shalt not feel my wrath. I'm just trying to produce my identification like a good FBI agent should," she batted her eyelashes at him.

"F... B.... huh???" The rent-a-cop asked, but he let go of her arm.

<<I'm surrounded by morons>> Starkweather despaired....

Starkweather held one hand above her head. She showed her other hand to the "real" police and told them "I'm going to slowly reach into my back pocket and pull out my badge, ok fellas?" The "real cops" snickered.

"Excuse me, but I don't understand," Preston snapped peevishly. "Shouldn't you gentlemen be arresting her by now??"

"Nooo..." Starkweather said as she showed the police, then the security guards her identification. "Because you see, you simple-minded Lizard-Boy," she showed him her FBI ID. "I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They placed me here in an undercover mission."

"Nobody told me about this," Preston huffed.

"That's because you're an idiot," Starkweather said sweetly. "Because according to your profile, you have issues with low-self-esteem due to you're..." she looked up and down at the primly dressed, effeminate man, "short," she finished, "and have a tendency to blow things out of proportion to make yourself feel important. Besides, if you would have done your job and given me a PRIVATE," she yelled the prior word. "Room, none of this would have happened because it is standard FBI policy that, unless under extreme circumstances of course, that all agents have their service weapons on them at all times and that sir," Starkweather scooped up her weapon. Made sure it was still safetied and stuffed into the back of her jeans before Preston could even say a word. "Is MY service weapon."

"I'll... I'll... I'll have your JOB for this!!" Preston threatened weakly.

"Why? Because you didn't do yours? All you had to do was be proactive and assign me a private room. There were plenty open. There's two open side by side Autumn Chamberlain's dorm room, in fact. But you didn't want to go to the trouble of having housekeeping clean out one room for just two weeks and then having them clean it out again when I left so you were lazy and stuck me with that snotty little bitch, Tori. And I can assure YOU, Mr. Erwin, that even though YOU did not know what was going on, the President and the Student Dean DID for we could not have ever started this mission on your campus without their blessing and I will make it my mission in life as soon as I finish my case here, to write a sternly worded letter about your conduct here." She gazed in disdain at the security guards. "I'm surprised you don't have a reporter from the newspaper here... yet." She glared at him.

"You're not very nice," Preston whimpered.

"I'm not paid to be nice," she retorted. "Don't worry, Mr. Erwin, my time is almost done here. I will be leaving Rose Hill tomorrow. I," she pivoted towards the rent-a-cops. "Am going to go back upstairs, take a shower and go do my thing. Anyone even thinks about breathing a word about this outside this office will get a Mafia's Valentine from me, hand-delivered personally."

"Agent Starkweather," Kranzberg interrupted. "What should we do about your roommate?"

"Mr. Erwin is going to pull Tori's skinny ass back in here, after I leave, and he's going to tell her that she was mistaken and that it was just a water-pistol," Starkweather said condescendingly. "I don't care how it's taken care of, just make sure that bitch keeps her mouth shut and stays away from me. I've got a job to do." She stormed out of the office. "She's.... special... isn't she?" Preston nervously questioned the men left in the office.

"Yep," Kranzberg said with a chuckle, "she's got more balls than you or me... well.... Definitely more than you...."

Meanwhile, Starkweather was calling Doggett.

"John Doggett."

"Doggett, its me, whatever we gotta do to close this, we gotta do tonight, my cover was just blown."

"Aw crap... STARKWEATHER!!!!"

"I'm sorry!!!"

"HOW?"

"I lost my gun."

"WHAT?!?! Crap. Now I KNOW you're Mulder's sister..."

"HALF-sister, thank you very much. Where are you?" Starkweather asked Doggett. "I'm in Omaha." Doggett told her as he loosened his tie. The humidity was starting to get to him.

"OMAHA?? Nebraska??? WHY?" "I'm at the Omaha Airport." He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead. "We just nabbed Tiesdale. He was trying to skip town."

"I don't give a damn about Tiesdale, I want Reece. Where is he?" "Not at home, not at the station. The cops are lookin' for him."

Starkweather had just re-entered the dorm room, scrambling for clothes. She selected a pair of khakis slacks and another tank top with spaghetti strings. While digging in her dresser for clean underwear, she told Doggett. "We gotta draw Reece out in the open." "There might be a way, but I don't like it."

"How?"

"Chances are, Reece don't know that Tiesdale's been nabbed for tax evasion and embezzlement. Reyes came up with the goods. 'Tween her and the Gunmen, they figured out that Tiesdale, with Reese's help, salted away at least one point three million dollars of federal and state taxable income that rightly belongs to the station, which Uncle Sam needs his cut of yet."

"Damn, that's a big chunk of change. How does that help us?"

"You're not listenin' Starkweather. Reece probably doesn't know what's going on with Tiesdale. Tiesdale WAS scheduled for a business trip to Nashville, but funny, with the heat up, he leaves a day earlier."

"Gee, go figure. But then, if Tiesdale figured it out, he may have tipped off Reece."

"Not a chance. Tiesdale's a real asshole, Starkweather. His entire escape plan was to have Reese twist in the wind for his sins. He's already gettin' lawyered up. He's gonna cut a deal and walk. The son-of-a-bitch." "Like I said Doggett, I don't care about Tiesdale, unless he had a direct hand in the drug dealing and those girls' deaths. I want Reece. How do we draw him out?"

"The station."

"What?"

Meanwhile...

Mulder had a bad feeling. He was not prone to psychic visions, as Reyes and Autumn were. In fact, he rather sneered at the idea of "the sixth sense." This arrogance, coming from a man who spent all of his adult life pursuing proof of extraterrestrial life, was humorous. But what he did possess was a sharp intellect and an ever sharper "gut" instinct, which was why whenever he "took a leap" into the unknown with one of his theories, 99.98 percent of the time, he was right.

He was sitting in his office at City Hall for the first time in days since he took ill with the chicken pox and was desperately trying to catch up with all the paperwork piled on his desk. As he calculated figures from the last expense report for the new children's park presented at the last City Council meeting, Reyes had called to give him an update. The IRS raid on the station was a go. He had responded with a nonchalant "Congratulations, Agent Reyes," and hung up on her without a further thought. After all, this was THEIR show, not his.

But that's when his instincts made their presence known. He tried to shove them off, write them off as frustration borne of being a paper pusher now instead of the agent at the scene. He turned his attention to the expense report, gnawing on a pencil trying to figure out why this reports' expense was so much higher than last months, especially since Mulder had done the preliminary research himself to figure the budget for the park. But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

The second call came in. Scully. She had just received a call from Doggett. They got Tiesdale. Going after Reece now. Good, good, great, great... how???

"They're going to have Starkweather at the radio station as a decoy. She's going to call Reece on his cell phone to tell him there's a problem at the station. Hopefully that will draw him from whether he is and he'll come."

"Okay. Let me know how it goes." Mulder said goodbye and got back to his papers. Stopped. Looked out the window. Drummed his fingers on his desk. Stood up, stretched. Paused. Closed his eyes. Profiled.

Stuart McCoy aka Reese Jackson, tall, rail-thin. Strung out on drugs. Paranoid. Bitter. Unreliable. Passionate about the radio station. Yes, beyond the heroin, beyond the pot, beyond the meth, the station was his first love, his real addiction. Addicted to it so much, that he turned his back on Elizabeth Cash. He tried to break up with her because her neediness was cutting into his drug supply and his air- time. According to the Arbitron (radio's equivilent to the Nielson ratings) the station's ratings had gone up considerably ever since Reese took over as PD. Dangerous? Could be... but Starkweather could overtake him...

But what about....

Mulder called Scully back. "Scully, what did Quantico find out about that second sample of ooze Doggett FedExed us?"

"Um... it was exactly the same as the first sample Doggett. We'll still holding to the theory that it has to do with some sort of pagan ritual although I'm having trouble with the research as to WHAT sort of ritual would use mucus..."

"Okay." And Mulder hung up again. Paced. He sat down, pulled out his cell phone. Called information. Called the Sioux City Police Department.

"This is Assistant Director Alvin Kersh of the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Mulder said. "I'm looking for a briefing on the KRRQ situation. Two of my agents are on the case." After he was transferred to the appropriate department, he received his briefing. "Is that all?" he asked in his most maddening monotone.

He then learned of last night's happening. Of the brief blackout. Of the FM control being covered with the membrane-like goo. Of the cryptic message written in dust on the computer screen.

"Thank you," Mulder hung up. He then sat down at his desk and started dialing on the land-line.

"John Doggett."

"Doggett, you can not let Starkweather be the bait for Reece Jackson."

"Mulder?"

"Listen to me Doggett, you let her go and she's going to get killed."

"How'dya know?" Doggett was not being rude, he was concerned. He also still believed that Reece was the cause of Elizabeth Cash's natural death. He still had no idea what was killing the other girls. "What do you know about poltergeists, Agent Doggett?" Mulder asked.

"WHAT?????????????" Doggett was getting into his rental car just as storm clouds started to scud through the Nebraska skies. "Jesus, Mulder, I don't have time for this, there's a storm brewin', I gotta get to the station before it breaks."

"Doggett, LISTEN-"

"MUL-DUH, I 'preciate all your help on this case, I really do. We both do. But it's wrapped up now. I'm heading back to Sioux City right now. Starkweather isn't gonna be at the station until I get to town."

"What if," Mulder said. "What if she gets a wild hair up her ass and leaves early?"

"She wouldn't."

"She would," Mulder insisted. "Remember Doggett, half of her is comprised from my gene pool."

There was a silence from Doggett's end. Then, "Shit."

Meanwhile....
KRRQ Studios
4:00 PM Central Standard Time

The storm made a lot of noise and light but no rain fell as it travelled from Omaha to Sioux City. The sky was already a strange purplish green as Starkweather drove from Rose Hill College to the radio station. "Perfect," she muttered. "That's all I need."

By the time she got to the station, it was so dark, the streetlights had come on.

Starkweather felt the chilly hands of the heebie-jeebies gripping her spine. No matter. Reece goes down tonight.

She was surprised that Doggett proposed having her go to the station. Pleased though. As nice at it was, sometimes Doggett's Southern chivalry got in the way of having an equal partnership. She felt bad that he was the one dragged out of bed to go to Omaha to nail Tiesdale. Which meant he got less sleep than she did. Which meant he was going to be in a pissy mood when he got back.

Ace's car was there, to be expected. She checked her watch. Debated. Wait for Doggett, or go in? She felt her back pocket. She remembered handcuffs. She got her gun back from that jerk Preston, Starkweather was still very bitter from her first meeting with Preston when he lead her through the dorms without even offering to help carry her heavy luggage. Starkweather shrugged. Reece was a big weenie. She could handle him. She went inside.

A blue 1998 Ford Probe pulled up after she went inside.

"Ace?" She called out as she went downstairs.

Ace came out of the AM's production room. The two stations, much to their chagrin, had to share now that FM's prod room was trashed. "Yeah?? What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to let you know that I'm okay," she said. "Did you see the storm brewing out there?"

"Yeah, I know, I've been watching the weather map," he took her into AM Control and showed her the color radar map and Starkweather watched the big blue cell move upwards from Omaha to Sioux City. "Dang..." Starkweather said. "That's cool."

"Like storms?"

"Love them."

They heard the upstairs door open. And close. Starkweather looked up.

"Who's that?"

"I don't know," Ace left AM Control. Starkweather followed him into FM Control. She looked at the now clean computer screen and shuddered. Ace peered out the window.

"It's just Taran," he said, relieved. "Listen, I have to run out to the van to get some equipment I need to fix. Are you okay to watch FM control?" he asked seriously.

"I'll be fine," Starkweather said.

The minute Ace was out the door, her cell rang. "Doggett, what's going on?"

"Where are you?"

"The station."

"Starkweather, get out of there RIGHT NOW."

"Why?"

Doggett had the pedal to the metal as the rented Alero cruised up I-29 as his police escorts tried to keep up. "Listen, okay, you're gonna think I'm nuts-"

"What did Mulder say?" Starkweather said, bored. She was snooping around the station, trying to figure out what to break so Reece would come running. Just then, the station phone rang. "Hold on," she told Doggett. She picked up the request line "KRRQ, The Big Dawg."

"Jeri? Hey, it's Reece, what's going on?"

"Nothing Reece... what's up?"

"Where's Ace?"

"He's getting something from the van. He asked me to watch the phones. What's going on?" "Oh, nothing, nothing. I just wanted to let him know that I need him to leave the doors unlocked. I need to get some files out of my office I forgot."

"Oh..." Starkweather exhaled slowly. No lies or elaborate plans needed. Reece was coming on his own accord. Goody. "Okay, I'll let him know. How soon will you be here? So he can watch for you?"

"About twenty minutes. Is anyone else there?"

"Taran's here."

A pause. Half a beat. "Okay okay, good good. Thanks Jeri."

Once Reece got off, Starkweather picked up her cell phone. "Doggett, Reece is coming on his own accord. I think he's got an inkling what's going on. He's coming to get some files out of his office." "Alright, Starkweather, you make for damn sure you be careful." Doggett ordered her. "Back-ups on the way and I'm about twenty minutes from town."

"Don't worry Doggett, I'll call if I get in troubl-" Just then, the lights flickered and snapped off, just as all the computers and equipment shut down. "Doggett, I'm in trouble," she said into the cellphone. "Doggett? Papa John???"

"Starkweather? Starkweather?" Doggett cried into his phone. "Dammit!!!!!" He pushed down on the accelerator even harder and foreced the Alero to go faster, faster... "Okay...." Starkweather said aloud. "This sucks ass." Blindly, she crept upstairs. She heard the rustling of papers, ripping sounds. Starkweather paused at the door, cocking her head in the direction of the noise. Common sense got the better of her and she slipped out the door. As quickly as possible, she scooted towards the station van. "Ace," she said as she slid open the side door. "Oh God!!" She leapt into the van and lifted up Ace's prone body. "Oh God... Ace!! ACE!" She shook him. He was breathing, which was good, but he was out cold. Starkweather sat him up. "Ace, earth to Ace. Come on, dude, snap out of it!" She felt the back of his head. She felt a big, moist lump. She pulled her hand away and saw red. Rubbing her fingers together, she muttered "Shit," and took the bandana she had bundled her hair underneath like a biker chick off her head and created a makeshift bandage for Ace's wound. She checked his pulse, checked him for shock. He was going to have a hell of a headache the next day, but he would survive. Starkweather crawled over him, over equipment, over prizes. "Ow," she muttered as she stubbed her toes. She peered from out the back windows at the station. To her shock, the lights had flipped back on in her absence. She saw a shadowy figure in second floor window. The business office. Starkweather frowned. She crawled back over to the unconscious Ace and took the cell phone clipped to his belt. Rubbing his head, she called 911. "My name is Special Agent Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather of the FBI. I have a situation here at the KRRQ studios. I have a civilian down. Trauma to the back of the head. Possibly with a blunt object. Unconscious. Showing signs of concussion and shock. Have visual on suspect inside the station. Possibly armed. Need backup ASAP," Starkweather paused. "And I'm going in. Stand by," she clipped the cell phone to her own belt. "Holy Jumping Jesus Christ on a Pogo stick," she swore before she slipped out of the van. Taking her gun out of her ankle holster, she slipped it off of safety and taking advantage of the darkness provided by the storm clouds, she scurried back into back into the station Soundlessly, Starkweather slid back inside the station. She crept up the stairs towards the business office. She could hear the sound of the TV in the break room blaring. The movie "Ghostbusters" was on TBS. She also could hear the sound of a paper shredder working overtime.

Starkweather, concealing her gun hand, knocked on the door to the business office. Taran Culver, promotions director and afternoon on-air personality jumped. "Jesus, kid," she said. "Don't scare me like that, it was bad enough when the lights cut out."

"What are you doing here?" Starkweather asked innocently enough although the answer was stuffed in a trashbag beside Taran.

Taran looked up at Starkweather and knew she was had. "Who are you?" Starkweather produced her badge. "Your worse nightmare, sweetcheeks," and as she simultaneously put her badge back in her rear pocket, she drew her gun on Taran, "Get on your knees and put your hands above your head." When Taran didn't move, Starkweather pulled the hammer back and said "Kayla Emmerstein, you are under arrest for conspiring to commit fraud, embezzlement, tax evasion and hindering a federal investigation. Get on your knees and get your goddammed hands behind your hea-"

The power cut out again. Taran, taking advantage of the darkness, rushed Starkweather, knocking her off her feet. The gun flew from Starkweather's hand. Taran groped for it but couldn't find it. She decided it would be best to run. She got up, but Starkweather grabbed her and pulled her down. Taran kicked her loose and started to crawl away. Starkweather felt the metal coolness of her Beretta, groped for it, grabbed it, fired a shot in the air. "STOP RIGHT THERE!" Starkweather yelled. Taran froze. "Get up slowly." Taran obeyed.

Lightening flashed, providing some light. As Starkweather advanced on Taran, aka Kayla Emmerstein, the third member of the tax fraud ring, she noticed a figure standing at the end of the hall. "Who's there?"

The eyes glowed blue. Starkweather's own eyes widened. "Taran, run," she ordered her.

Taran turned around and saw what Starkweather saw. She screamed but did not run but backed towards Starkweather, whimpering. "Oh my God... we're gonna die."

"Yeah but-" Before Starkweather could make a smartassed comment, the temperature dropped twenty degrees in the building. Starkweather and Taran shivered. Starkweather kept aiming her gun at the shadowy figure with the glowing eyes. "Goddamn it, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT??" she yelled at it.

All of a sudden, all the papers blew all over the place, like a tornado indoors. Lightening outdoors flashed and the sound of sirens wailed in the distance.

The figure began to advance. Starkweather yelled "Stay where you are! Don't come any closer!" She fired two shots at it. The shots went right through it and through the bathroom door. "GODDAMMIT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STOP WHEN I SHOOT YOU!!!!!!!" She screamed.

Taran fainted. Starkweather and the being both looked down at her. "Thanks for coming," she said to Taran's prone body. She looked back up. The being had backed up again, as if it was going to rush at her. Starkweather held her gun back up. "I don't know what the fuck you are," she yelled as the building got colder and colder. "And I don't care. We know Reece is guilty!" she cried out as the thing began to advance on her again, only this time accompanied with a howl that would frighten the banshees. Starkweather held her ground although her hands shook. "We know he did it, we're sending him to jail. GODDAMMIT, WE'RE THE GOOD GUYS!!!!"

That was the last thing she said before a force stronger than a hurricane knocked her over.

Starkweather opened her eyes. The power had come back to the station. All the lights were on and the equipment was running.

Starkweather felt very sticky. She sat up, or tried to. Her hair was plastered to the floor. "Ew," she whined. Every inch of her was covered in a clear ooze with a slight pinkish tinge. She lifted her head up to see that Taran was also covered with the same ooze, as well as the carpet.

Starkweather turned her head towards the door that lead to the breakroom. She could clearly see the TV set that sat on top of the fridge. Bill Murray was soaked clean through his brown Ghostbusting uniform with a sticky, gooey film. Dan Ackroyd had just come to his side and asked "What happened?"

"He slimed me," came one of Hollywood's greatest movie quotes.

Starkweather dropped her head back down and paraphrased. "She slimed me..." The sirens were close now, in fact, they were in the parking lot. Starkweather sat up, slime dripping off her nose and ears and hair. "Ew," she repeated, spitting slime out of her mouth. She checked Taran out. Slimey, but alive. Starkweather shook her. "Come on," she told her when she came through. "You're still under arrest." Taran was too dazed but to comply...

Doggett got out of his rental car as squad cars and ambulances crowded the parking lot. He feared the worst. Holding his FBI ID up high, he cut through the crime scene tape and got to the station doors, just in time to see a very slimy Taran Culver aka Kayla Emmerstein be lead into a squad car. And to see a very slimy and very cranky Agent Starkweather walking down the stairs. Her feet stuck to the ground and she literally had to pull her feet up to take a step.

"What the hell happened here?" Doggett asked, then looked her over. "What the hell happened to YOU?"

"I got slimed, Doggett," Starkweather said wearily.

"What?"

Before Starkweather could explain, a car pulled up along side the circus. Reece Jackson.

"He truly has no idea he's busted," Doggett said, almost in awe. "What an idiot."

Officer Piltz pulled out his handcuffs. "I'll get 'em," he offered, but a slimy hand rested on his shoulder. Piltz looked at the hand in disgust, then at the hand's owner.

Starkweather had wiped some of the slime off of her face, but it was still plastered to her hair and clothes. She looked like the Love Child of the Blob and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. "Oh no," she said sweetly. "Let me. Please."

Starkweather slip-slopped towards Reese. The cops, smiling at their easy catch had let him through the police barricades. "Jeri, what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "My God, what happened to you?" "Stuart McCoy," Starkweather said pulling out her badge. As she opened it, a big glob of slime dripped off of it and onto Reese's shoe. Horror-stricken, he recoiled. Starkweather continued with her speech. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and definitely will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford one, and judging by what most program directors make honestly in a year, you probably can't, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I presented them to you? If not, here's the Miranda Rights for Dummies. You fucked up, we caught you, you're going to jail, but you don't have to say anything and you can have a lawyer."

Reece crossed his arms. "For what?" he said smugly. "I didn't kill Laura Light."

"No," Starkweather said, getting out her handcuffs, "but you were the mastermind before the giant tax fraud scheme you, Tiesdale and Taran were involved in. Note how I used the past tense. They're both on the phone with their attorneys. Only problem is, you embezzled from a company that's monitored by a federal agency, the FCC. So you're looking at federal court and federal time." She took a step closer. Reece looked nervously around. There was no place to run. "Plus, we found a locket belonging to Elizabeth Cash and a ring belonging to Melinda Widlowsky in your childhood bedroom at your parents' house," she took out her handcuffs and popped them open. "Mr. McCoy, you sir, are in a hell of a lot of trouble," she cuffed him and shoved him towards the nearest cop. "By the way, my real name is Jerilyn Starkweather. Jazzy Star, my ass..." she sneered as the cops led him away. She shuffled back over to Doggett, who was leaning against a cop car, watching the entire scene with great amusement.

"Feel better?" Doggett said.

"Yes." Starkweather nodded. "Very theaputic."

"Well," Doggett said. "The good news, we got 'em. The bad new is, we didn't get them for Candelauria or those other girls deaths."

"Well, technically, he didn't physically cause them, Doggett," Starkweather said.

"What? Are you buying into that whole hocus-pocus crap Reyes and Mulder have been mooning about? Mulder called me about twenty minutes ago, freaked out 'cause he thought that the poltergeists were gonna get you. Why are you staring at me?"

"Just wait until you read my case report."

"Oh God." Doggett shook his head. "You are shittin' me." "Doggett," Starkweather said seriously. "Look at me." When Doggett looked at her, she said, "Where do you think this shit came from?" She wiped slime off of her arm and held it in her hand in a quivering blob. "Now you know me, but, um... this is physical proof that there is life after death. And it ain't pretty." Doggett's cell phone rang. "John Doggett," he said. "Monica... yeah, everything went down. We're all okay. We got 'em. Thanks. See you soon." Doggett hung up. "Reyes was checking in," he said. "She was a big help on this case. She stepped up when Mulder couldn't."

"Why couldn't he?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"That he had the chicken pox?" Scully had accidentally let it slip to him.

"The chicken pox?"

"Both of 'em, Will and Mulder. Scully was fit to be tied," Too late, Doggett saw the evil twinkle in her hazel eyes. "Now, Doc, you be nice to him," he threatened her. "He's been sick."

"Oh, I'll be nice to Chicken Little, I promise."

"Dammit, Starkweather, if you give him crap for the chicken pox, I swear, I'll tell him about 'Jazzy Star' and the dog suit."

"You BREATH a word of that to anyone, I swear Doggett, I'll, I'll tell them all about how you were flirting with Biff, recent ex-convict at the Deuces Are Wild club the other night."

"I was not!!"

"Not a word about the dog suit. Promise me!"

"Only if you be nice to Mulder and Scully. They have had a shitty past couple of days." "What kind of day do you think I'VE been having, Mr. I've- Got-A-Suite-At-The-Hilton-Man."

"Starkweather?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's get your shit and go home."

"Can I take a shower first?" "For the love of God, please," Doggett groaned as they walked to his car as rain began to fall, breaking the evil curse of humidity. And the spirits of Elizabeth Cash and Melinda Widlowsky finally rested in peace...

Rose Hill College
Tori and Jeri's room
5:00 PM Central Standard Time

Tori was standing outside of her dorm room, fit to be tied. Two police officers had knocked on her door. Without even telling her why, they burst in and began packing up all of Jeri's things. They asked her to leave. Tori copped an attitude and told them they had no right to be in her room without a search warrant. Officer Kranzberg told her sweetly that since they were not searching for anything, a search warrant was not necessary. Just then, the elevator doors opened up and out stepped Starkweather and Doggett. Openmouthed, because she assumed that Starkweather was in jail, she started to yell, "Police!! Police!! Help!!!"

Kranzberg rushed out. "What?" He saw Starkweather. "Oh. Hi. We've almost got all your stuff packed for you."

"Thanks." Starkweather turned to Doggett. "I won't be long."

"Our flight leaves at 7:45," Doggett told her. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I'll be quick," Starkweather promised him. Doggett nodded and walked off.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??" Tori squealled. All the dorm doors opened and several female heads popped out. "WHY ISN'T SOMEONE ARRESTING HER??"

Starkweather, for the fourth time that day, pulled out her FBI badge. "Wanna tell me some more about those fake IDs?" she asked sweetly.

Tori scurried out of sight. Starkweather hurried into the dorm room for a change of clothes, a towel, shampoo, conditioner and soap...

Rose Hill College
4th Floor Television Lounge
5:31 PM Central Standard Time

Starkweather peered through the small window in the door before going in. Knocking as she pushed the door open, she said "Hey guys," with a smile. Her FBI ID was clipped to the lapel of her suit. Sandy and Autumn both turned their heads. They had been sitting together on the couch watching a movie on television. They weren't pawing and drooling all over each other like hormonal teenagers but they definitely looked.... cozy. Starkweather smiled. Whatever happened next, was up to them.

Sandy, meanwhile, couldn't get over how drastic her appearance had changed. Her long hair, still damp from her shower, was tightly plaited into a long French braid, the tail coiled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She wore one of the suits Scully had picked out for her during their power shopping marathon for her undercover mission, a rich deep green blazer with a matching knee-length skirt which brought out the ring of fire in her hazel eyes. She wore a form-fitting black tank top with spaghetti straps.

"Wow, you look old," Sandy blurted out.

Starkweather arched an eyebrow. Sandy tried to recover, "I didn't mean that in a bad way... it's just... uh... you look grown up." Starkweather looked at the boy, envied him for his comfortable college gear of distressed denim shorts and loose cotton T-shirt. "Thanks," she sat on the arm of the couch. "I just wanted to thank you two for your discretion and for your help. The good news is that we caught the man we believe responsible for your sister's death." She took a breath. "The bad news is... the evidence we have linking him to your sister's death is shaky... so shaky that if it got to trial, the judge would take one look at it, laugh and throw the case out of court. He WILL be going to jail, and he WILL be going for a long long time... just..." Starkweather held her hands out helplessly. "Not for the death of your sister. I'm sorry, Sandy." Sandy looked at the carpet. "It's okay," he finally said after a bit. "I know that you and your partner tried. And you and your partner actually gave a damn. I'm glad the cocksucker's going to jail, whatever the reason."

Autumn took his hand, squeezed and let go. "We were hoping we'd get to see you before you left, Agent Starkweather," she said formally, still looking as strange and bewitching as usual. "We both got you something. Go ahead Sandy."

Sandy dug into his pocket and pulled out a pendant on a silver chain. He pressed it into Starkweather's hand. "This belonged to Candi," he said. Starkweather examined it. It was a medal of St. Christopher. "I want you to have it, Agent Starkweather."

"Sandy, I can't... this was your sister's..."

"No, seriously, I want you to have it. I think Candi would have wanted you to have it. I think, I think she would have liked you."

After that, Starkweather put the medal around her neck. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "This means a lot." "Now me," Autumn said, reaching into her bag. Starkweather cringed. <<What was she going to give me??> she wondered. <<Tarot cards? Crystals? Eye of newt?>> Autumn gave her a videotape. Starkweather did a double- take. "The X-Files??? Starring David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson..." she flipped the tape box over and read from the back "On their first case together, Mulder and Scully investigate thw deaths of four young teenagers who disappeared in the woods outside a small Oregon town. Scully finds her new partner lives up to his reputation for the bizarre when he theorizes alien involvement... " Starkweather shook her head. "I can not believe this..." she examined the actors' pictures on the back of the tape. "Damn... if that chick isn't the spitting image of Scully... and the Barbie Posse is right... David Duchovny is a sexy bitch..."

Starkweather smiled as she dug in her coat pocket. She handed Autumn and Sandy each one of her business cards. "That's my direct extension," she said. "and my email. Drop a line, let me know when you're in town, I'd be glad to see you."

"Who knows Agent Starkweather," Autumn purred. "Maybe we'll be working in the X-Files with you someday."

"Maybe," Starkweather demurred. "I have to go, I have a plane to catch. Good-bye. It was nice meeting you guys. I mean that."

Right before Starkweather walked away, Sandy called her back. "Hey, Agent Starkweather?"

"Yeah?" "Just out of curiosity.... now... last season... they just added Agent Doggett and Agent Reyes to the show. Is Agent Reyes a real person too?"

"Yeah..."

"Well," Sandy scratched his head. "I'm just trying to figure out why YOU'RE not on the TV show too."

Starkweather paused by the door. "You know... that's a damn good question. I'm gonna have to write them... who's the head writer??"

Autumn and Sandy chimed in unison, "Chris Carter." Sandy added, "He's the producer and creator too."

Starkweather nodded. "Yep, definitely need to send a letter to them," she grinned and left the kids to their futures

Parking Lot in front of Oona Hall Rose Hill College 5:47 PM Central Standard Time Doggett stood in front of the Alero, holding an umbrella. The thunder rumbled, but it was not menacing, not did the rain come down in torrents. It was just a gentle summer rain, finally cooling down the parched Midwestern earth, releasing the water vapor trapped in the air, making the extreme humidity a mere memory... for a few hours anyway.

Starkweather finally came out, carrying a videotape and wearing a necklace he had never seen her wear before... which reminded him... Doggett pulled the gold chain from out underneath his shirt collar. Starkweather's diamond solitaire was still securely on it.

"Come on Doc," Doggett called to her as she scampered to him through the rain. "We've got a plane to catc-"

"Excuse me?"

Both Doggett and Starkweather turned around, startled. "Ace..." Starkweather said, "What are you doing here? I thought you were in the hospital?"

"I left," Ace said bluntly. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Starkweather looked petulantly at Doggett. Doggett handed her the umbrella and said "Make it quick. I wanna get home." He let himself into the car.

Starkweather turned to Ace with a guilty conscience. "Ace..."

"So, was everything just bullshit?" he asked quietly. "Were you just being nice because it was your job?" Starkweather beckoned him to join her under the umbrella, but Ace stubbornly stayed in the rain. "So?" he asked again.

"Ace... I'm sorry I deceived you. I really am. But I didn't have a choice. I couldn't take the risk. Of who I really am getting out."

"You could have trusted me."

"I know that... now... but when I started, I didn't know who the good guys and who the bad guys were yet."

"So everything we talked about WAS a lie."

Starkweather closed her eyes. "The personal information I shared with you was the truth. The reasons why I was at the station were not."

"You're not telling me something."

"You're right... I did bend the truth about something... about Ben." Ace waited patiently. "He's not my fiancé... he's my husband." Ace's eyes widened as he exhaled. "Ohhh..." "I didn't think you would buy it if I told you I was married. Most college girls aren't married."

"How long have you been married?"

"Two years."

"How OLD are you?"

"Twenty-nine end of August."

Ace whistled. "Damn girl... you're two years older than me."

"Oh thanks."

Doggett stuck his head out the window. "Starkweather... c'mon, we've got a flight to catch."

"Alright, alright," she said, a little irritated. "I'll be right there Papa John."

"Papa John?" Ace said. "Is he... is that your friend John you were telling me about at the station?"

"Yes."

Ace now approached her. "When I came to in the hospital, when they told me what happened, how Taran clubbed me over the head so she could destroy the tax records, how you took care of me and how you went back inside the station... I just couldn't believe it. I just had to see how much of 'Jeri O'Brien' was bullshit and how much was real," he sighed. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm nuts."

"No... I don't," she handed him her business card. "Ace, I hate to cut this short... but we've got a flight to DC to catch."

Ace enveloped her in a big hug. "I'm sorry you're unhappy," he whispered to her. "I wish I could fix it."

"You can't. Fix it," Starkweather said as she felt her eyes mist over. "Just don't be a stranger, okay? 'Cause if I ever get assigned to another case to this godforsaken shithole, I'm looking you up and we are going to have several beers."

"Oh here we go."

"I'm serious!"

"Yeah... well..." Ace backed away from her. "See you around, Mrs. Starkweather." "Bye..." she said as she watched him walk to his truck, get in and drive away.

She turned and walked back to the rental car.

"You okay?" Doggett asked. Starkweather sat in silence for a moment while Doggett started the car up and started to back out of the parking lot. "I think so... but it's strange Doggett... have you met anyone where you feel like you've know them forever?"

"No..."

"Well... until this trip, I hadn't either. I mean, I barely know this guy," referring to Ace, "but he had me pegged from Day One. I mean... he could tell that I wasn't a real happy camper and he made this huge effort to make it better for me. And he gave a damn about my safety at the station... I guess I just don't understand why he did all that." Starkweather said as she leaned back into her seat and, for the last time, looked up at the isolated college on top of the hill.

"Back where I come from," Doggett said as he maneuvered down the winding driveway, "folks like Ace were called 'good people'. And I think that's all it is, Starkweather. Ace saw that you were miserable and thought the best way to make even just a little better for you was to be your friend." They stopped at a stoplight. Doggett took the time to take his chain off and slip off Starkweather's wedding ring. He held the diamond solitaire out to her and "Some people just ain't that complicated, Starkweather." Starkweather took her wedding ring and returned it to its rightful place. Admiring the diamond's brilliant sparkle, she said, "Well, if Autumn and Reyes are right about the Wicca's Law of Three... whatever energy you send out, will be returned to you threefold... Ace just won the Cosmic Karma Lottery, that's for damn sure."

Doggett smiled as the light turned green. "Makes you think about how you treat other people, don't it?"

"Oh God, that means I'm gonna burn in hell for the way I treat Mulder," she groaned as she turned on the radio:

"Oops... I did it again Played with your heart Got lost in the game baby, baby..." (Britney Spears - Oops I Did it Again)

She turned to Doggett and saw him smirking. "NO," she said and changed the station and got another country station:

"With a broken wing She carries her dreams Man, you oughta see her fly..." (Martina McBride "Broken Wing")

Starkweather changed the station again. Doggett protested, "Didn't you gain any music appreciation while you were at the station, Doc?"

"Nope," Starkweather selected another station:

"I might ride with the wind/I might follow the sun I gotta go where I've never been 'Cause my heart beats to a different drum It's just the way I was made I'm a renegade..." (Tim McGraw "Renegade")

"NO," Starkweather said sternly to Doggett as she station- surfed again. "No steel guitars allowed," :

"Beaten, why for/Can't take much more (here we go, here we go) ONE- Nothing wrong with me TWO- Nothing wrong with me THREE- Nothing wrong with me FOUR- Nothing wrong with me ONE- Something's got to give TWO- Something's got to give THREE- Something's got to give FOUR- Something's got to give..." (Drowning Pool - "Bodies")

"Starkweather," Doggett growled, "I'm not listenin' to that crap."

"Aw come on..."

"Change the station or I'll break your fingers."

"Once more you open the door And you're in my heart And my heart will go on and on..." (Celine Dion - "My Heart Will Go On)

"AARRGGHH!!!" Starkweather and Doggett groaned together and Starkweather swiftly changed the station again.

The ultimate irony was that a country song did finally win out. But Starkweather was none the wiser for it did not have the telltale steel guitars and nasally twang:

"I hope you never lose your sense of wonder You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger May you never take one single breath for granted God forbid love ever leave you empty handed I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance Never settle for the path of least resistance Livin' might mean taking chances but they're worth takin' Lovin' might be a mistake but its worth makin'

Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance I hope you dance

(Time is a wheel in constant motion/always rolling along Tell me who wants to look back and wonder Where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance...

Dance...I hope you dance I hope you dance... I hope you dance I hope you dance... I hope you dance

(Time is a wheel in constant motion/always rolling along Tell me who wants to look back and wonder Where those years have gone......)"

(LeAnn Womack - "I Hope You Dance")

Starkweather looked out the window and watched the Missouri River rush by the interstate they took to catch the last flight out of town to Washington DC. The clouds were clearing and there were hints of a rainbow in the horizon. She smiled. The victims, all the girls killed at the station, could rest now, they could finally sit out the dance. Time had stopped. For her, for Ben, for Doggett, for Reyes, for Mulder and Scully and everyone else, time was still in constant motion, still rolling rolling rolling. The sun was going to rise, the mountains will loom in the horizons and the ocean will still overwhelm any insignificant human in his or her right mind. And she was never going to settle. She was still going to be Mrs. Jerilyn Starkweather when she woke up and maybe it was a mistake to keep loving Ben, but if it was a mistake, it was worth making.

As she got out of the rental car at the airport, Starkweather looked up at the heavens and gave it more than a passing glance. Then she followed Doggett to board their plane.

And the agents went home.