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Title: Starkweather: Meum Mel I Summary: Teamed up with Mulder, Scully, Reyes and Doggett, the newest agent to the X-Files begins to finally explore her dark origins. Note from Author: I have taken creative license and inserted an extra year in between s8’s "Existence" and s9’s "Nothing Important Happened Today." The only thing off continuity wise is William’s age. Disclaimer: Mr. Carter and 1013, I am not making one red cent off of your creations, so please don't sue me. Besides, I have no money anyway, so suing me would be pointless. And FYI, all non-1013 characters, especially my bitchy alter ego Jerilyn Starkweather, belong to yours truly. :) ********************************************************************* Starkweather: Meum Mel I By Scully3776 In the dim light of the dance hall, Benjamin Starkweather clasped her tiny hand. He smiled at her and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She looked up at him with her huge hazel eyes, strange hazel eyes that truly changed colors because of her mood. Right now, they were a warm brown with a golden tinge. She was in love and love made this average girl metamorphose into something extraordinarily beautiful. And Ben felt as handsome as only a young man could feel when dressed up to the nines in a stylish tuxedo with the future bright and shining in front of him and with the woman of his dreams at his side. And Jerilyn Bailey.... no Jerilyn **Starkweather** now... looked like a young fairy queen, with her off the shoulders white satin gown, with its tight bodice that emphasized her tiny waist and flowing skirts which sadly (in Ben's opinion anyway) hid her legs. Her hair, a tawny blond now instead of the dark brown it was when he first met her, was curled and hung down her back, loose and free. In lieu of a veil, she wore a crown of roses and baby's breath on top of her head. And the only thing Ben could think of was <<God, she's so beautiful. >> He nearly missed the deejay's voice announcing that they had the honor of the first dance of the night. As the plaintive guitars from Metallic's ballad "Nothing Really Matters" filled the dance hall, Ben lead the newly created Mrs. Starkweather out on the dance floor. He bowed and kissed her hand, just like in those old classy movies from the Forties. Jerilyn smiled and reached from him. He easily swept her up in his arms and twirled her around the dance floor, softly singing the lyrics in her ear... BANG The gunshot drowned everything else out. Everything, the music, the hysterical people screaming and dunking for cover, was muted. Ben couldn't even hear his own voice as he asked Jerilyn if she was alright. But Jerilyn stepped away from him, her hand over her abdomen. Her snowy white dress was slowly being dyed red. "Oh God..." she whispered. "Ben... I..." she sank to her knees, the voluminous skirts puffed around her as if she fell into a cloud. But the cloud was being stained with the blood of a bride as Jerilyn curled into a fetal position, trying to stem the life-stealing flow of blood herself. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her breath stopped. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ben screamed as he bent over her, scooping her limp body into his arm. "Jerilyn," he sobbed.... ... and bolted awake in his apartment in Washington DC. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, "Jesus," he said softly. It was the third time since the September Eleventh Attack that he had experienced this nightmare and every time, it was getting worse. He reached for Jerilyn and found, not to his surprise, she wasn't there. Ever since that horrible day, Jerilyn's insomnia had increased. Ben scootched over to Jerilyn's side to read the alarm clock. 3:31 AM. It was 3:31 AM, October 28th. He could hear the clacking of someone typing on a computer keyboard. Jerilyn. Burying herself in her work. Making herself a paper tomb. Ben groaned and laid back down. It was getting worse, this farce of a marriage of theirs. He didn't know what to do. Jerilyn needed him. That was no secret. But he felt like he couldn't give to her anymore because he was sure as hell not getting anything back. Except for nightmares.
October 31, 2001 The bar was filled to maximum occupancy. Some people were dressed up in goofy costumes in honor of the holiday. Witches, vampires, ghosts and one man dressed as Mr. Oompa-Loompa from 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' were all warming up at the bar before they hit their respective Halloween parties or started the serious bar-hopping. But not the crowd in the far back. Not because they didn't know how to have a good time. But because in their line of work, they saw enough real-life monsters that to dress up as one seemed a little on the ridiculous side.
Assistant Director Walter Skinner sat at the head of the table, drinking his fifth Budweiser with a big silly grin on his face. He was still in his suit from work, but he had unloosened his tie and taken off his jacket. To his left, like a favored son, sat Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder. Mulder, for once, actually looked relaxed and happy, in jeans and a navy blue T-shirt (a gift from Scully, she was tired of his gray shirts.) He was downing Heinekens like there was no tomorrow and telling dirty jokes and fond memories from his days with the X-Files. Next to Mulder, as always, was Special Agent Dana Scully. At first, dressed in a simple cashmere sweater from the Limited and a pair of khaki slacks, she kept quiet as she sipped her wine. But as soon as the alcohol warmed her blood, she was interrupting and bickering with Mulder as she always had and always would. And the other members of the party smiled, happy to see that sometimes will never change. Across from Mulder, in a very sexy black shirt with a scoop neck and low-riding jeans, sat Special Agent Monica Reyes. She was just about three sheets to the wind and chain-smoking like crazy, but the bar itself was so smoky, no one really noticed or complained. Several masculine eyes strayed towards her direction but she ignored them. She was not on the prowl. She was just there to unwind and have a good time. Something she needed to do desperately. Next to Reyes was a boyishly handsome young man, barely in his thirties. He had beautiful dark eyes and a terrific smile, when he smiled. Which was not often that night. It seemed to be that he was there on automatic pilot. He, like Skinner, had come straight from work, the lawfirm of Carter, Spangle and Adams. So, he too, had loosened his tie and taken off his jacket. Benjamin Starkweather sipped his Bud Light in a glass slowly, as he was supposed to be the designated driver. Next to him, was his wife, Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather. She was apparently enjoying herself, much to the relief to all there. The last few months, especially September, had been exceptionally rough on her. Even though she had let her hair down for the evening (literally - normally, for work, she wore it in a tight bun or French braid) she still looked tired. Her partner, who sat in front of her, wondered how much sleep she was getting at night. But Special Agent John Doggett wasn't sleeping much at nights either. Both had been delivered a cruel blow on September 11. They had both lost loved ones in the attacks on the World Trade Center and at the Pentagon. No one knew which agent was suffering more. Both agents were at Ground Zero when hell broke loose on earth and were temporarily assigned to the New York field office for several weeks. They just came home four days ago at the request of Skinner after hearing reports how burned out his agents had become. He just prayed the X-Files would stay quiet for them. But of course, wishes never really do come true. At least, not on Devil's Night. Away from the party, alone at the bar, a handsome black man, dressed head to toe in Armani, watched the X-Files party over top of his wire-rimmed glasses. He took another sip of his martini and then out of his breast pocket of his silvery gray suit jacket, took out a tiny Nokia cell phone. Acting under the pretense that he was calling to see why his date was late, he dialed his contact's number. "Hey, baby, what's takin' you so long? Forget about me?" "Are they all there? Mulder, Scully, Reyes, Doggett... Starkweather?" a baritone voice asked him. "Uh huh." "Has she spotted you?" "Hell no, honey." He took out a Morley Menthol Light and lit it up. "Keep an eye on Mulder," The baritone ordered him. "Lay low, but if necessary, keep his ass alive. We need him." "Is that a fact?" He hoped his contact picked up on the double meaning, which, of course, he did. "It was confirmed by our contact inside the Syndicate twenty minutes ago. They want him dead and this time the Smoking Man's not gonna be able to stop them." "For serious?" "The CSM's not in charge anymore although he's trying to regain the reins again. This is a bad situation. I've got other eyes on Mulder, Scully and the boy, but I want you all over them, comprende?" "No problem." He took a breath, a quick subtle look and then typed in a text message: WHAT ABOUT BAILEY? After sending the text message, he put the phone back to his ear. "Bailey is not your focus. Mulder is. Stay with Mulder." "Alright, alright." He looked over at the FBI party table again. The laughter was getting louder, rowdier. He looked at the blond woman with the sparkling hazel eyes and pouty lips. She was giggling at something the Deputy Mayor had just said. He remembered how her nose crinkled when she laughed. He remembered how her eyes would change color from a golden brown to a fiery green ringed with a band of gold when she got angry. He remembered when her hair used to be dark brown instead of blonde. He remembered when her last name was Bailey and not Starkweather. << You're not going to get away from me that easily, Jeri >> he thought as he finished his drink and ordered another. << Not that easy at all. >>
Meanwhile.... Barney's 24 Hour Liquor and Cigar Store Behind the counter, Barney Pederson slouched on his stool, watching the little black and white TV, pouting as he slurped a Minute Maid orange soda. He was the owner and was very bitter that the idiot college kid that was supposed to be working quit on him this morning. It never crossed his mind that he wasn't paying the boy enough and always treated him like dog mess. He was too busy dwelling on how mad he was that he had to work on a holiday when he could have been home watching a monster movie with the wife and eating left over Halloween candy. He was just grateful that right now, the store was empty. He had been slammed with business since six o'clock PM. The little bell above the door tinkled. Barney didn't look up. The good news was that everyone was in a party-state of mind so liquor sales were up. Which was fantastic because Barney, like everyone else in the business world, was hit hard by the recession. The customer, dressed in the rags of the homeless and the tinted glasses of the mad, staggered right up to the counter. She was shaking, and not from the cold. She pounded her hands on the counter to get Barney's attention. Barney looked over. "Whaddya wan-" he started to say but then his eyes opened in recognition. "Hey... I've seen you before..." "No you haven't," the woman said immediately. "Sure I have... you were on TV a few weeks... you're that lady FBI agent that works on... Jesus... what is it... the Q Files? The Y Files? Anyway..." he looked the woman up and down. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you? You look like hell." "I need your money." "What?? Oh Christ," Barney muttered, slowly reaching for the alarm button under the counter. "This is what I need..." he grunted. He remembered clearly now. She was on some talk show on MNBC with her redneck partner, talking about their experiences on September 11. The chick probably snapped. Just before he hit the alarm button, the woman leapt over the counter like a cat and attached herself to him, biting his face, tearing his cheeks to shreds with her teeth. Barney screamed and tried to throw her off but discovered it was getting hard to breathe. Then, too late, he realized it was because she was choking him. Then he felt a fiery pain in his belly. He then realized she stabbed him. His knees buckled. The woman stopped eating his face and stepped away from him, letting him fall. She put Barney out of his misery by slashing at his trachea. She folded up a knife, a pretty switchblade she killed a twelve-year-old gang member for and put it in her pants pocket. She then took the keys from his pocket while he was bleeding to death and cleaned out his cash register.
Barney's death cost him $251.73. Covered in blood, pockets stuffed with money, she leapt over the counter again as the surveillance camera watched...
Later on that night... Ben and Jeri's apartment Ben and Jerilyn huffed and puffed up the stairs to their apartment. "I still don't see why we couldn't have taken the elevator," Ben bitched. "Come on honey," Jerilyn tried to sound joky but it came out hollow. "It's good cardio-aerobic exercise." "Are you saying I'm getting fat?" Ben also tried to kid with her, but he sounded as flat as she did. He even tried an Eric Cartman-impersonation from South Park - "I'm not fat, I'm big boned," but it just didn't come out right. Plus, Jerilyn wasn't listening. "What the hell is that?" She pointed to their door. An envelope was taped below the number on their door. Ben frowned. "I don't know," he said. He was extremely nervous all of a sudden. Jerilyn had opened her bag and was drawing out a pair of latex gloves. "Baby, maybe you shouldn't open that here," he said as she dropped her bag on the floor and drew on the gloves. "You know with that anthrax scare going on..." "Oh you big baby," she admonished him. "Anthrax is completely treatable is caught in time." She tore open the envelope. "No dust, no powder..." "What's in there then?" Ben asked quietly. "A letter... to me..." Jerilyn scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "From who??" "It's not signed." "Well what does it say????" Ben asked. Jerilyn read: "All that is gold does not glitter "What the hell does THAT mean??" Ben asked, not nervous any longer, but angry. "Well...it's a poem from 'The Lord of the Rings'." "The what???" Ben was not into the fantasy genre. "It's the series of books the movie you were talking about that you wanted to see is based off of. Remember? You saw a preview of it when you went and saw a movie with Cello and Meg (his friends from his lawfirm)a while back. It was the one with all the monsters and sword fighting and shit." "Oh yeah! Okay, sure. It was a book? When did that come out?" "Didn't you have to read 'The Hobbit'? in high school?" "We were supposed to but I never did." "What about college?" "I was a history/criminal justice major. I kind of floated through my English requirements. Besides, I don't like fluffy fairy tales." "You are such a Neanderthal. It's not a fluffy fairy tale! 'The Lord of the Rings' is one the greatest literary accomplishments since Shakespeare himself graced God's green earth. JRR Tolkien single-handedly created the entire fantasy-adventure genre-" "Blah blah blah," Ben said. "Jeri, I'm tired, I'm drunk and some weirdo is pinning notes on our door. Can you spare me the literary lecture and just tell me what the hell is going on?" "I would," Jerilyn said icily. "Except that I don't KNOW what's going on. I haven't read these books in years. To be honest, I haven't even thought of the books in years until you mentioned the preview you saw. But anyway..." she looked up and saw that Ben really didn't care. "I'll bring it into the office and let the others take a peek. I don't think it's a threat though. Can you open the door, please?" she finished tiredly. Ben looked at her strangely and then unlocked the door. He went in and went straight into their bedroom. Jerilyn paused in the kitchen to get out a Ziplock baggie to put the strange note in. She then noticed Caesar the cat was sound asleep on top of the refrigerator. "Kitty, get down," Jerilyn pleaded. Caesar opened one golden eye, yawned and went back to sleep. "I give up," Jerilyn said to no one in particular.
November 1, 2001 The alarm went off shrilly. Ben opened his eyes as Jerilyn shut it off with a thump. Ben was surprised to see Jerilyn still laying there. Normally she was up and moving by 5:30, getting ready for her morning run. She must have been really run down to have slept through her alarm. "I'm callin' in dead to the office," she mumbled as Ben slid out of bed. "Do you want three funeral days to go with your dead day?" Ben asked before ducking into the bathroom to take a shower. "Yeah..." She muttered as she fell back asleep. She was still fast asleep when Ben came back and dressed for work. He stood over her sleeping form for a moment. He bent down as if he was about to kiss her, but decided against it. He reached for his briefcase and left for work. He did call Skinner on his cell phone and left him a voice mail to let him know that his wife was not feeling well and may not be coming in today. Starkweather slept until ten-thirty and then scared herself awake. She looked down at her clock. "Holy shit!!!" she gasped. "Ben, you dick, why didn't you wake me???" she cried aloud as she sprang out of bed. Just then the phone rang. <<Oh God,>> she thought in dread, <<Skinner.>> "Hello?" "Don't panic, Doc," drawled the comforting voice of her partner, John Doggett. "I played hooky from work today too. In fact, Skinner was seriously talkin' 'bout giving us both leave, because of the whole September 11 disaster." "Yeah... well... I don't want a leave," Starkweather said, sitting on her bed. "I need the distraction." A pause. "Yeah, me too." "Doggett, what are you doing today?" Starkweather looked over at the note, still sealed in a Ziplock bag, laying on her dresser. "Today?? Why?" "Can you meet me later at the 'Coffee Is My Friend 24 Hour Coffee Shop'? At about 12:30?" "What's the matter??" "I don't know... I... there... I can't talk about it over the phone." "Starkweather, are you okay??" "No."
Coffee Is My Friend 24 Hour Coffee Shop
Doggett read the letter for the third time, as if third time would really be the charm. Starkweather sipped her double caramel latte in silence. "Tell ya the truth, Doc," Doggett said. "It's a poem. A nice one. I kinda like it. But I don't know why someone would go to all the trouble of typing it up, stuffing it in an envelope and sticking it on your door." "In the novel, 'The Fellowship of the Ring'," Starkweather began wearily, "the Barliman, Butterbur, gave Frodo Baggins the Hobbit a letter from Gandalf the Grey, explaining why he couldn't meet him at the Prancing Pony. He wrote for Frodo to watch for a man called Strider, but his real name was Aragorn. At the end of the letter, Gandalf wrote that poem: 'All that is gold.'" "Huh?" Starkweather banged her head on the table. "Doesn't anyone READ around here????" "Hey, I read 'The Hobbit' in high school, I know who Tolkien is, I just never got into the rest of his stories. I just don't get how someone pulled that poem out of a big of an epic novel as 'The Lord of the Rings', take the trouble to type it up and pin it to your door. Is it a threat, a warning? Secret admirer, maybe?" "Ha." "I'm serious, Starkweather." "Please.... that's all I need." Doggett leaned back in his chair. "'The crownless again shall be king.' What the hell..." He looked over Starkweather's shoulder. "There's two cops over there..." he muttered to Starkweather. "So?" "They've been staring at us the entire time." "So?" "They're comin' over now." Starkweather turned around to see, sure enough, two officers approaching her specifically. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Washington DC Police Precinct 231 Assistant Director Walter Skinner stormed into the police station, face purple with anger. Behind him trailed Special Agent Dana Scully and Special Agent Monica Reyes. Neither on of them looked very happy. Deputy Mayor Mulder was waiting for them at the front desk. "Good, the cavalry," he said flatly. He turned to glare at the policeman at the counter. "Could you PLEASE let us in to see Detective Edward Carillo now?" he snapped. "And I'm sorry Deputy Mayor," the police officer said helplessly. "But I was given explicit orders that Carillo be not disturbed today." "Officer," Skinner fumed, opening his ID, revealing his title and status in the FBI, "that's one of MY agents being questioned in there for a crime she did not commit because it happened between ten and ten-thirty and we were all with her, along with her husband, who is not present at this time. I strongly suggest that YOU disturb Carillo before **I** do," he snarled through his teeth. "Sir, I really-" the poor officer started to say when Doggett burst out of the hall. "Thank God, you're all here. We've got a situation." "Agent Doggett," Scully said, "what is going on? Where's Starkweather?" "She's in with Carillo and he wants to see you all. Come on." He paused. "You ain't gonna believe this..."
Detective Edward Carillo's office Mulder knocked on Carillo's door and then barged right in. Relief flooded over him when he saw his little half-sister, not in handcuffs or in prison grab but in a pair of jeans and Ben's dress shirts over a skimpy little T-shirt. Her face, however was white as snow so Mulder hurriedly crossed over to her. "Jerilyn, what's wrong?" he reached for her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Or so she thought. "Mulder, you aren't gonna believe this," she said, pointing at the television set. Carillo got up from behind his desk. He was familiar with the X-Files Division, mainly because he was the detective that headed the investigation into Benjamin Starkweather's kidnapping. Carillo's partner, David Somerset, had been part of the conspiracy to fake Ben's death and then frame Mulder for it. Somerset had gotten busted however and was now sitting in the state pen, ruing the day he ever heard of the Syndicate. Carillo had worked overtime to help clear Mulder's name, which was not hindered at all by the near miraculous discovery of Ben, beaten, but alive, in a warehouse down by the Potomac River. "AD Skinner, Deputy Mayor, Agent Reyes, Dr. Scully. I apologize for the scare," he said, nodding at them. "But we've got, well, a fucking disaster in the makin' here and it's looks to involve Dr. Starkweather. She's not in trouble-" he held up his hand as if to halt any possible arguments. "But someone might be trying to get her into some." "Will somebody PLEASE," Scully demanded. "Let us know what is going on???" Carillo directed their attention to the television set. "This is a surveillance videotape from a local liquor store at about 10:35PM." He hit 'play'. Skinner, Mulder, Scully and Reyes watched as a woman, obviously homeless, judging by the rags she wore, approach the chunky man behind the register. Starkweather and Doggett had already seen it, so they stood in silence. In horror, Skinner, Mulder, Scully and Reyes watched the homeless woman leap over the counter and brutally attacking, then killing the man. They watched her raid his cash register and then climbing back over and that's when the camera got a good shot of her face. "Oh my God!!" Scully exclaimed as Mulder reeled back. "It's me," Starkweather said quietly as Carillo hit 'pause'. "And yet it's not her," Carillo told her co-workers. "When I called all of you initially, you all confirmed that Dr. Starkweather was with you at Bennigan's during the time, this crime happened. Mr. Starkweather was also contacted and also confirmed, but was unable to come down her. Plus, I do not wish to have civilian involvement in this case. Also, acting out of good faith, Dr. Starkweather volunteered to be fingerprinted." Starkweather held up her hands and sure enough, the pads of her fingers and thumb were as black as soot. "The perp left her prints all over the place. Dr. Starkweather and the perp's fingerprints do not match." "Then what is this? Do you think someone is trying to frame Agent Starkweather?" Reyes asked. "To be honest," Carillo said wearily. "I'm not sure. After the crap my ex-partner Somerset was involved in, I got a crash course about this whole... Syndicate thing..." Carillo took a breath before continuing on. "We've been tryin' to keep this quiet, avoid a panic, but, in the last few weeks, three people have been killed in this manner. One was a boy, kid no older than twelve. Street punk, ran with the Crips. Other was a homeless woman, we found her buck naked, so we think she was killed for her clothes. And now this guy," he gestured to the dead man on the television screen. "We believe this woman is the responsible for all three deaths. The bite marks on all three victims are identical. Plus, we have a witness for the death of the boy. His little brother, kid's about seven, maybe eight. Anyway, the kid saw everything happen. Hid behind a dumpster when the killer started to... well anyway, a cop found the kid half-froze and nearly catatonic when he discovered the body of his brother. The little kid's is a ward of the state right now, it seems that his brother was caring for him, has no clue where his parents might be. As for the murderer, all he could say was that 'a lady did it.'"
"Good God," Skinner said. "When we got the video from the liquor store, I recognized that face as Dr. Starkweather's but... I knew it was physically impossible for her to have caused the first two deaths-" "Because Agent Doggett and I were still in New York, assisting the field office with the September 11 investigation when those murders occurred," Starkweather said dully. "By a fluke, two of my guys saw Dr. Starkweather and Agent Doggett having a cuppa coffee and they asked her to come with them to the police station. Agent Doggett, naturally, accompanied. We asked her a few questions, and she told us she was with all of you plus her husband last night. I have to admit," here Carillo cracked his first smile, "she was just as testy as I remember her to be but she cooperated and behaved professionally," he said to Skinner, as if he would doubt one of his own. "After we got the print results back, I knew that my gut instincts were right and there was no way Dr. Starkweather could have been involved in this."
"That still doesn't tell us what's going on," Scully said heatedly. "The truth of the matter is," Carillo said. "We don't know what the fuck is going on, pardon my French. What I'm doing is tossing you all a bone. My department does not have the experience to handle this sort of thing. My people think this is a run of the mill serial killing. I don't think so. I think it's an X-File, so I'm handing it over to the people best to handle it." Mulder looked at the television again, then at Starkweather. "Why do you think it's an X-File?" "Like I said," Carillo returned to his desk and unlocked the top drawer of his desk. "With what happened last summer with you and Mr. Starkweather and my partner's involvement with that whole mess, I got a crash course in this Syndicate organization." He opened his the drawer and pulled out seven very thick files. "When we were searching Somerset's apartment, we found these files, hidden in a false drawer in his computer desk." He went around and handed a file to each person in the room. Reyes opened hers right away. Her beautiful brown eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God... it's us..." she flipped through the files. "My college transcripts... intercepted letters... photographs," she took out a black and white picture of her, standing in front of a hospital. "Dana, look, this was from a year ago...in front of the hospital in Helena, after we found Teresa Hoesing," she held up the black and white 8 x 10 picture. But Scully wasn't paying attention, she was looking at the pictures in her own files. "Mulder..." she said, her voice strangled. Skinner, meanwhile, opened his, did a double take at the first photograph and snapped it shut, very quickly. No one noticed, everyone was paying attention to Scully, who was whiter than a ghost. Mulder left Starkweather's side and went to Scully. His jaw dropped open. "Oh my God," he said as he took the picture of Scully with shaking hands. "Scully... oh God... they were in your house." "What is it?" Reyes said, noting how pale both had become. She reached over and took the picture from them. It was a picture of Scully, very pregnant, in her home at a bridal shower her mother threw her. "How?" "I don't know," Scully said. "I don't remember anyone there having a camera... but then... that woman Mom hired... Lizzie... Mulder-" Scully was interrupted by a shout of pure anger from Doggett. "FUCK." He took a breath. "Sorry, sorry... but... Starkweather, you better come here." Starkweather went to him and looked at one of the pictures in Doggett's file. "Oh fuck!!!!!!" she cried out. It was a photograph of the two of them together, kissing in a nightclub. "Oh Jesus... the undercover mission in Sioux City... here we were worried about our suspect getting suspicious about us following him, when somebody was following us..." Starkweather looked down at her two files, one for her, one for Ben. "I don't even want to look at this...." "You may want to..." Carillo said. "It was your file that made me think that these killings belong under the X-Files jurisdiction." Starkweather flipped open her file. "'The Litchfield Experiment.' What the hell is that?"
"Say that name again," Mulder asked her. "The Litchfield Experiment." Starkweather shook her head. "Means nothing to me. Why? Is it ringing bells with you?" "It is to me..." he turned to Scully. "Is it to you?" Scully frowned. "It sounds familiar... but I can't remember what it pertains to." Mulder looked around. "Field trip to the basement anyone?" "So," Carillo said. "You are opening an X-File on this?" "It doesn't seem like we have much of a choice," Starkweather said. "I mean, there's some psycho chick eating people while wearing my face. Since I was adopted and my origins are on the... um... dubious side, I'd like to know where in the hell this Annabell the Cannibal came from. For all I know, I could have a twin floating around out there. Of course it WOULD be my luck that she'd be homicidal and crazy," she said with a sigh. "Or it could not be," Doggett said. "It could be an amazing coincidence. There are look-a-likes out there. I mean, I can't tell you how many times I've been mistaken for the guy that plays T1000 from Terminator II." "Now that you mention it..." Carillo said thoughtfully, studying Doggett's face and Doggett wished he never opened his big mouth. "What about the theory that Agent Starkweather is being set up?" Reyes said. "It is possible that this individual could have had plastic surgery to alter her face to look like her." "If it's a setup," Doggett said, then it's a sloppy one." "I think it IS a setup," Skinner said slowly. "But I don't think Starkweather's the target. I think it's all of us. I authorize you agents to open an X-File on this, but exercise in extreme discretion. Mulder, I want a private word with you before you leave with Scully for J.Edgar." "Yes sir," Mulder said automatically, even though Skinner was not his boss anymore. "Good luck," Carillo said. "And if there are any services my people can offer you for this case, just let me know." Skinner thanked Carillo and everyone filed out. Mulder held back. "I'll meet you in the car, Scully," he told her when they were outside on the steps of the police precinct. Scully nodded and walked away from them. Mulder turned to Skinner. "What's going on?" Skinner discreetly handed Mulder his folder. "Take a look." Mulder opened the folder and groaned. "Oh shit." It was a shot of Skinner shooting Krycek in the head.
Later on that night... "If we're going to spend all night here," Starkweather whined as she sat on the floor, surrounded by files. "Can we at least order a pizza? I'll even buy." Mulder, sitting at his beloved old desk, was nibbling on sunflower seeds and really not paying attention to Starkweather. "Huh??" "I'm hungry, Mulder. I haven't had anything to eat yet today unless you count my latte I didn't even get to finish because the cops came and hauled me away." "Oh... here," Mulder held out the bag of sunflower seeds for her as he continued to read. Scowling, Starkweather stood up, brushed the dust of herself and seized the bag from Mulder. "What are we looking for anyway?" she asked. "You'll know it when you see it," Mulder said with a sigh as he shut the file and put it on his "Read It" piles. He reached for the next file on the "Haven't Read It" piles. Starkweather sighed. She, Scully and Mulder had gutted the files from the cabinets and were reading them like crazy while Doggett and Reyes went to the microfiche room in hopes of maybe retrieving older X-Files. Mulder, was convinced that "The Litchfield Experiments" pertained to a very old X-File, but neither he or Scully could remember what.
Scully walked back into office, with two cans of Coke for Mulder and Starkweather and a bottle of water for herself. William was along for the ride, literally, he was in a baby carrier that strapped to Scully's back. He just thought that was great. "Mulder," Scully said wearily. "I don't think we're going to find what we're looking for. I mean, if the case dated back prior to 1998, they were probably destroyed in the office fire," she handed him a Coke. "It's in here Scully," Mulder said. "Not all the files were destroyed. Many of them just had smoke damage. The Truth is in here, Scully, I can feel it." "Blllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh," Starkweather gagged. "Spare us." "Spare you what?" "The triteness, the hokeyness, for the love of God." "You think the Truth is hokey and trite?" Mulder bristled. "No, I do not think that Truth is hokey or trite. But the way YOU present it, you sound like the rejected hero from 'Superfriends'." Deepening her voice as far low as she could go, she said "I am Mulder-Man, and my weapons against evil are the Ways, the Truth and the Light!" In her regular voice, she began singing "Mulder Man, Mulder Man," to the tune of They Might Be Giants' 'Particle Man.' "God, you're annoying," Mulder muttered. "And the idea that there might be more than one of you running around scares me..."
Meanwhile... "AAAHH-CHOO!!" Reyes sneezed. "Bless you," Doggett said. "God, it's dusty in here." "I can't believe this room is still in existence," Doggett marveled as he took a box out of a filing cabinet and handed it to Reyes, who was sitting at the dinosaur of a microfiche machine. "Here, these are X-Files dating back to 1993." Reyes pulled the first film out of the box and slid it into the machine. "I wonder if I even remember how to use these," she joked. As she fumbled around with the machine, with Doggett leaning over her, she asked seriously "What's the matter, John?" "Matter?" He said lightly. "Nothing. I'm fine." "John," Reyes turned around. "Don't play that game with me." "What game?" "The 'I'm fine' game that Dana loves to play with Fox and you know exactly what I'm talking about. You and I have been friends for a very long time now and I'm concerned about you. You and Starkweather." "I'm just tired." Doggett said, a little tensely. "Starkweather and I are just drained from working the World Trade Center investigation and we haven't even been home for a week and we're pulled into a wild goose chase. I just wanna go home and go to bed, Monica." "How have you been sleeping?" Reyes asked him directly. Doggett was quiet. Then, in a soft voice, "I haven't." Reyes turned around. "John, you can't carry this burden within you by yourself. You can't keep something like this welled up within you." "You weren't there, Monica." "No... I wasn't.... but I was near the Pentagon. I saw that plane plough into it." "But you didn't lose any friends that day," Doggett said bitterly. "You didn't watch people you knew and worked with die." "I almost lost you," Reyes said softly. "You and Jerilyn." "How-" "Mulder told me, when I pressed him. Don't be upset with him, he's just as worried about you two as I am, although I must admit, I think he's more concerned with Jerilyn, no offense." "None taken, she's his baby sister. He's already lost one, he's not gonna let another go. And speaking of Starkweather, let's get on with this," he said authoritatively, but when Reyes turned around, he put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, silently thanking her for her support. Reyes finally figured out the machine and switched it on. "Oh my God... John.... we found it!"
1013 Mockingbird Lane The phone rang. The old man, sleeping peacefully in a Lazy Boy woke up with a start. He reached for the phone as he fumbled for his cigarettes in the breast pocket of his jacket that he neglected to take off when he got home. "Hello?" his voice was as unctuous as always. A pause. Then, a husky voice pleaded, "I need your help." The Cigarette Smoking Man, uneasy, put his cigarettes on the coffee table and reached for his gun. "Who is this?" "Charlie." "Charlie!!!" The CSM could not have contained his shock and fear even if he could have tried to. "Charlie... where are you?" A snuffling noise. It sounded like weeping. "I'm lost," the voice cracked, like an exhausted child's. The CSM was stern now. "Charlie. Where. Are. You." There was a pause, save for the ragged breathing. "Charlie. I can't help you if I can't find you. What city are you in?" "DC." "DC?? Washington DC?? How did you... why..." Under normal circumstances, it would have been hysterically funny to see the almighty Cigarette Smoking Man so flustered. "I got tired of being locked up like someone's pet." The voice was no longer like a frightened child's but like a psychotic rasp. "I wanted to go out." "Charlie," The CSM said, wearied, frightened. "We've talked about this, you and I. You CAN'T go outside. It's not safe." The rasp turned into a howl. "BRAVO got to go. ALPHA got to go. DELTA got to go. Why NOT me?????" "Charlie," The CSM tried to regain control of a deteriorating situation. "Why are you in Washington DC?" "'Cause of Echo." The Cigarette Smoking Man was on his feet. "WHAT??" "I wanted to see Echo." "Charlie, where are you?" he demanded but the line was already dead. Furious now, the CSM dialed his second-in-command. "Why in the HELL did you not let me know that Charlie escaped??"
Meanwhile..... The X-Files Office Doggett and Reyes fairly flew back into the office. Scully, Mulder and Starkweather looked up them, startled. "What's up?" Starkweather while was getting William out of the carrier. Doggett dropped the copies made from the microfiche onto Mulder's desk. Starkweather and Scully joined them. "What did you find?" Scully asked, taking off the carrier and taking Will from Starkweather. Doggett opened the file. "December 10, 1993. You and Mul-dah investigated the deaths of two men on opposite sides of the country, both killed the exact same way, the blood was drained from their bodies. Each one of these men left behind a daughter, identical to the other-" Scully, remembering now, burst out "Teena Simmons and Cindy Reardon!" while Mulder muttered ominously "Eve." "Huh???" Starkweather asked. "These girls," Reyes told Starkweather, "were genetically altered by a scientist named Sally Kendrick. Sally herself was part of a government program called 'The Litchfield Experiment.' Long story short, they were trying to create the perfect human being." "But, naturally," Mulder said. "Something went wrong. These children, the boys named 'Adam' and the girls named 'Eve', eventually went insane. Homicidally insane," Mulder rambled on, remembering now. "Sally Kendrick somehow got medical treatment for her mental instability and was able to live a normal life thanks to anti-depressants and a variety of other drugs. She herself became a doctor, got work at a research hospital with specially dealt with fertility issues and in-vitro processes and continued with the Litchfield Experiments long after the program shut down." "And," Doggett continued on, "she helped make Teena and Cindy, the way they are. The girls were only eight years old at the time, but they were responsible for murdering their fathers, they were responsible for the death of Sally Kendrick-" "How," Starkweather interrupted. "They poisoned her drink," Reyes said. "Sally took the girls away when she caught wind of their blooming homicidal tendencies. Her intentions were to treat them, but instead, they killed her." Doggett went on. "There were two other adult "Eves" out there, one that Mulder and Scully had the pleasure of speaking to in a maximum security cell at a psych hospital-" Scully shuddered, recalling the deranged woman's voice, especially when Mulder asked her about biting off a security guard's ear and Eve said she meant that as "a Valentine." "-and the other Eve was captured when she tried to bust crazy Eve and Teena and Cindy out of the mental hospital. They're all still there, under maximum security. Teena and Cindy are sixteen years old now." "This is all fine and dandy," Starkweather said, trying to keep her tone light but her voice was shaking. "But what does that have to do with me?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other, remembering a prior conversation: "You don't want to leap aboard the flying spaceship." "Mulder," she said patiently. "After what we've both been through, you know I don't doubt you about extraterristials anymore but I don't want to use that theory with every case. Some X-Files have nothing to do with aliens. Like... remember one of our first cases... the one with the two twin little girls... Eve?" "Ah, yes, such sweethearts, such cherubs, such satanic little archangels who dumped poison in our Cokes." Mulder remembered fondly. "Scully, I understand your hesitation, but don't completely rule out the extraterristal either. Especially with losing nine minutes." "I'm not," Scully felt herself get defensive, as usual. "I'm just not using it as my ONLY theory either." "Keep me updated," Mulder told her. "I will help in anyway I can..." "You know I will," Scully said. "Speaking of Starkweather..." "Get this Scully... we were right, Starkweather's transfer was no coincidence. The Admiral's wife, the good Senator, was in Minneapolis four weeks ago. Naturally, she visited her stepdaughter and step-son-in-law, wow Scully, say that five times fast. Anyway, she also made a stop to visit Starkweather's old boss. All of a sudden, a rookie is offered a position in Washington? Even though it's the X-Files, it's still DC and to a rookie..." "It's like hitting the lottery." Scully mused, "How..." "Did the Senator do it? They went to college together. My guess is he owed her a favor, but to him, she did him a favor..." "Because Starkweather was a pain in his ass." Scully finished Mulder's sentence for him. "Exactly. So the Admiral definitely wants his little girl to be in our shadow, so to speak... And guess what else Scully?" He didn't even give her a chance to try. "The good Admiral also lied to us about Jerilyn.... "Should we be concerned about Starkweather's motives?" Scully asked. "No," Mulder instantly assured her. "Jerilyn has no idea what's going on behind the scenes. There is so much she doesn't know, can't even began to understand.." "What did the Admiral lie about?" "Remember how the Admiral told us that when Jerilyn was a very little girl, he was sent to sea for six months and no one told him that his child was missing and it was only through... what did he say, "the grace of God" that she was returned?" "Yeah?" "I had the boys do some digging... And Langly found some interesting medical records and a news story the Admiral just plumb forgot to mention." "Tell me." "When Jerilyn was six years old, her father was sent to sea for a six month mission. What the Admiral forgot to mention was that two years prior to this mission, that child had been in and out of hospitals due to unidentified psychotic episodes." "They labeled a child psychotic?" "They didn't have a choice Scully... When she got out of the terrible twos, the terrible didn't stop. But they just assumed she was a brat. When she turned four, the shit hit the fan. Emotional unstability. Deep depression. Bedwetting. Obsessive-compulsive behavior. Pathological lying. Screaming fits. Overeating for days on end, then absolute refusal to take food or water. Physical violence towards her playmates. Her adoptive mother, Lynette Bailey, pulled her out of her playgroup by the request of the other parents. She tried to feed Cholrox to her cat." "And she was four???" "When it started. She was shunted to every medical center in the nation. Mayo Clinic. Bethsheda. St. Jude. She was tested for every childhood disorder and a few adult ones too. Autism. ADS. So on and so forth. She was given every mind and mood-altering drug known at the time too. It would work for a brief span of time, Jerilyn would behave like a normal well-adjusted little girl, then she would build an immunity to whatever drug and it would start all over again. For two years, this child made the Baileys’ lives. They were investigated by not just civilian social services, but by the military as well. The Baileys' nearly divorced over the issue of what to do with their adopted daughter, papers were drawn up, but never signed. "A few days after Jerilyn's sixth birthday, actually, the day the Baileys' decided would be Jerilyn's birthday, the Admiral, not an Admiral at the time, of course, went out to sea for a six month tour. A few days after he left, not only did Jerilyn vanish, but so did Lynnette Bailey." "What?" Scully finally managed to get a word in edgewise. But a word was all she got for Mulder was in full steam. "The Navy did not tell the Admiral about his missing family, although there was a massive manhunt for the mother and child. Because of their domestic problems, they charged Lynette with kidnapping Jerilyn. "So you can imagine how frightened and furious the Admiral was when he left that ship only to find that his wife and daughter had vanished without a trace. He was given sympathetic leave until further notice. He joined the manhunt, offered a sizable reward, did everything in his power to find them. "Then, two months after he had been on leave, he gets a call from a hospital in Helena, Montana. The doctor was treating a woman and a young girl, left for dead in the mountains that he said matched the description of Lynette and Jerilyn... sound familiar Scully?" A snippet of her conversation with Jerilyn en route to London from Washington flashed back to her. "Mulder, Starkweather told me that her mother died of brain cancer... was it the same as my cancer?" A long pause. "And they found a chip in Lynette's neck. She had it removed when Jerilyn was about fourteen. She contracted the cancer shortly after that... And died after Starkweather graduated from high school at the young age of sweet sixteen." "That's the amazing part, Scully. It was as if her disorders never happened. Not only does she not remember her abduction, but also she has no memory of the first six years of her life, especially about her childhood psychosis. Whatever mental malfunction she had, was cured during her disappearance... but shortly after her return to her father is when she began to show signs of genius capabilities... But that's all I have now." "I wonder why the Admiral didn't tell us that, that is important information." Scully sounded angry.... "
Back to the present: "This is all fine and dandy," Starkweather said, trying to keep her tone light but her voice was shaking. "But what does that have to do with me?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other, remembering a prior conversation. Starkweather caught the look and repeated herself, strongly now. "What does this have to do with me?" "Starkweather, that page in your file that said "Litchfield Experiments"... what did it say?" Doggett asked since he didn't have a chance to look at it before he and Reyes disappeared to the microfiche room. "It was just a fax cover letter that said "The Litchfield Experiments" written on it." Starkweather said to Doggett. She turned back to Mulder and Scully. "What do you guys know... that I don't." Mulder opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Scully looked at the floor. Starkweather folded her arms tightly around her, as if she was trying to physically hold in her anger. "What did my father tell you?" she asked quietly.
Meanwhile... Officer Jennifer Ithenstein and her new partner, Officer Kirk James was patrolling the streets. "So," James asked her. "Any plans for the weekend?" "Sleep," Ithenstein said with a laugh. "What about you? You and your wife going to go out?" "I don't know. Personally, sleeping sounds like a fine and dandy way to spend the weekend, but KayAnne thinks differently," James also chuckled. Just then, their police radio squawked to life, informing them of a situation in a residential area, a deranged woman with a weapon that had already attacked one civilian and was basically going on a rampage. Ithenstein and James were only a quarter of a mile from the situation. Ithenstein looked at her partner. James nodded and said, "Let's hit it." Ithenstein flipped on the siren and raced to the scene...
Back in the X-Files office Starkweather folded her arms tightly around her, as if she was trying to physically hold in her anger. "What did my father tell you?" she asked quietly. When she didn't get a response, she said, even quieter, "I asked you a question and I think I deserve an answer," she lifted her head to glare directly at Mulder and he found himself shocked at her appearance. He knew the last few weeks have been rough but he had no idea what toll it has been taking on her. She had definitely lost weight and not sleeping. Puffy purple bags were underneath the catty hazel eyes that were flickering in anger at him. "Jerilyn," he said firmly, "I will tell you. Tomorrow. Right now, you're exhausted." "Don't give me that crap, Mulder, I-" "Jerilyn, he's right." Support for Mulder came from, quite unexpectedly, Monica Reyes. "Go home and rest, Jerilyn. We all need to rest. It's very late. We'll meet here tomorrow morning and Fox," she looked at Mulder, "will tell us everything." Starkweather gave up. "Doggett, can you give me a ride home?" "Sure," As he walked his partner out the door, he looked at Mulder and Scully, "see YOU tomorrow," he said very pointedly to Mulder. When Starkweather and Doggett had left, Reyes turned to Mulder and Scully. "I don't know what you know," she said. "But we've all learned the hard way the dangers keeping secrets. So I think it's time you two tell Starkweather whatever it was that the Admiral told you about his daughter." Reyes picked up her bag. "Good night."
Scully turned to Mulder. "Mulder, she can NOT be one of the Eves, she's too old to be part of Sally Kendrick's experiments and too young to have been part of the original Litchfield Experiments." "So why does she fit the profile?" "Mulder, Starkweather is perfectly sane." "*NOW," Mulder got out of his seat with a groan. "She's sane *now* but she wasn't as a child. She gets abducted, along with her multiple-abductee adoptive mother, and six-months later, she and her mother are returned, with the child being in good health, both mental and physical. What does that tell you?" "That I'm tired and I want to go home," Scully said, handing a sleeping William to Mulder. Mulder sighed. "Tomorrow is not going to be a pretty day, Scully."
Meanwhile... Three blocks away from Ben and Jeri's apartment. "Aww," Doggett groaned when he saw the backed up traffic and flashing light of squad cars. "What the hell is this?" "God, I hope it's not a fire," Starkweather mumbled, her head leaning against the window, eyes closed. "Nah... there's no smoke..." Doggett mumbled. Something didn't seem right. "Stay here," he told Starkweather as he got out of the car. "What?" Starkweather said, but was too wiped out to follow him. "Fine," she sighed as she laid down across the seat. As Doggett wove his way through the crowd, he discovered that he was in the midst of a ten-ring media circus, complete with media vans, ambulances, fire engines, police cars and a SWAT team truck. He finally made it to a police barricade. "I'm a federal agent!" he yelled to a young cop, trying to control the crowds. "What the hell's goin' on?" "Who the hell at the FBI wants to know?" the rookie snapped. "My partner, she lives in THAT," Doggett pointed at Starkweather's apartment "building and would like to go home." The cop let him through the barricade and talked to him. "You know that sick chick that's been tore off those people's faces? We got a call that she took an old lady hostage, stole her key that lets her through the security door and is inside. She's already wounded two people that got in her way. If your partner lives here, I suggest you get her a hotel room for the night. That crazy bitch could be anywhere." Doggett felt his heart sink. <<Ben.>> he thought. "Are there still civilians in that building?" "Don't know, it's a big place," the rookie said. "We're tryin' to get as many people out as we can, but this place is turnin' into a zoo..." Doggett broke away from the rookie and back to his own car as fast as his legs could carry him. To his horror, he didn't see Starkweather in the car at first. To him immense relief, when he got closer to the car, he saw that she lying down on the front seat, sleeping. He opened the car door and shook her awake. "C'mon Doc, wake up." Starkweather bolted upright. "What?" Doggett got in and locked the door. "That look-alike of yours, the cops have her cornered in YOUR apartment building." "MY apartment building... oh, God. Ben!" Starkweather reached for the door handle, but Doggett grabbed her arm. "Stay here," he growled at her. "The last thing we need is to have you accidentally arrested or some damned thing like that. Do you have your cell? Can you call Ben? Find out where he is?" With trembling hands, she took out her cell phone and dialed her home number. The phone rang four times and then the machine clicked on: "Hi, this is Ben and Jeri's... no lame ice-cream jokes please. Sorry we missed your call-" Starkweather hung up and tried his cell phone: "This is Benjamin Starkweather. I'm sorry I missed your call, please leave me a detailed message and I will get bac-" "Dammit," Starkweather said, turning to Doggett. "One last number to try." She dialed his office number. "Hello?" "Ben!" Relief washed over her. "Oh thank God you're at the office." "Well... that's a first," Ben said slowly. "I never thought I'd heard that from you... what's going on?" "Ben, you have a TV in your office, right?" Starkweather said, craning her neck to see which local stations had their media vans there. "Yeah, that little one, why?" "Turn it on to Channel 11." "'Kay," Ben sounded dubious. There was a pause as he turned the TV on, and then. "Oh my God... what the hell??" "There's a hostage situation going on... um... Ben, there's just one other thing about this..." "What?" "She looks like me." "Say again?" "This nutcase," Starkweather said slowly, "bears an uncanny resemblance to yours truly." A long pause. "Wow, first Mulder's your half-brother, now this," he quipped. "Hardy-har." "Where are you?" Ben said suddenly. "Are you safe?" "I'm a hop, skip and a jump away from the apartment and it is an absolute zoo. I'm in a locked car, I'm armed, I'm okay. I was just scared that you were in there." "No, I'm here," he sighed. "Been here all day... Jeri... when that cop called me today... asking me if you were with me last night... did that have anything to do with what's happening now?" "Ben," Starkweather looked at Doggett, who was frowning at her for some reason or other, "technically I can't talk to you about that." Doggett's frown deepened. "Why?" "Because... it's going to be pulled out of police jurisdiction and into FBI jurisdiction." "You mean, it's going to be a fucking X-File, isn't it?" Her eyebrows shot up, "And what are you implying by that?" "Because it's weird and it involves you," Ben said. "Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot Ben, for your ongoing support." "Jerilyn-" "And here *I* make the supreme mistake of tracking you down to make sure that you're okay and not even five minutes into the conversation, you're criticizing my job." "Well, if someone didn't accept this position, chances are a look-alike lunatic wouldn't be breaking into our apartment building, would it?" Ben fired back. Just then, Doggett's cell phone rang. He reached for it and answered "John Doggett." Ben said to Jerilyn "Well, shock, surprise, look who you're with." "Ben," Jerilyn said wearily. "Don't go there." "Yes sir..." Doggett said into his cell phone. "I understand... I will... alright... yes sir." He hung up. "Skinner wants us out there, Reyes and Scully are en route. Wrap it up." "Ben, we'll discuss this later," she hissed and she hung up on him. She took out her gun and badge and started to sing under her breath "Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye'm comin' up so you better get this par-tay started... Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye'm comin' up so you better get this par-tay started...." Starkweather and Doggett met Reyes and Scully at the police barriers. Both were still in their same clothes as before, but were wearing FBI windbreakers. "Agent Starkweather, you up to this?" Scully asked, concern coloring her voice. "Even if I wasn't Scully, I don't have much of a choice, I mean... the freak is in MY apartment complex," Starkweather quipped. Holding out their FBI badges, they went up to the first cop they could find. "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully told the officer curtly. "Who's in charge here?" "Detective Caril-" the officer started to say, but then looked at Starkweather. "What the hell?" Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Oh for Christ's sake," she snapped. "I'M not the psycho, SHE'S in there," she pointed at her apartment building. The officer recovered himself. "I know, I know... the suspect has auburn hair, we got a eyewitness who called 911. Detective Carillo is over there," he pointed at the grizzled man barking orders at other cops. Doggett, Reyes, Scully and Starkweather made their way over to Carillo. "What's the situation?" Doggett demanded. Carillo asked "Where's the Deputy Mayor? He's not lurking around, trying to be a hero, is he?" "No sir, he's at home with my son," Scully said crisply. She left out the part about her leaving him very angry that she was running to a dangerous situation that could possibly follow her home and he had been pacing in the living room, gun out and loaded while William slept in his playpen. "Now then?" "SWAT team just confirmed Jane Doe's on the third floor, she's still dragging the old lady along for the ride. Snipers can't get a clear shot. She seems to have no motive, no agenda." "So she's just plain nuts," Doggett said. "Perfect." "And dangerous. We've got people in there, afraid to come out of their apartments. We've got two confirmations of injuries, a potential third. She's armed with a knife. She seems not to really care whether or not she lives or dies." "Great," Starkweather said. "Nuts and suicidal. Loverly. Just fucking loverly. Jiminy Christmas," she groaned. "How are we going to get her out? Preferably alive?" "To be honest, Agent Starkweather," Carillo said, "I don't know if we CAN get her out alive." "AD Skinner," Reyes informed him, "made it crystally clear to us that the suspect was to be apprehended and brought to custody. Alive, not in a body bag, so I recommend you inform the SWAT team that their orders are to disable, not kill." When Carillo turned to glare at her, she reminded him, "you switched the jurisdiction over to the FBI, Detective. And those are the FBI's wishes. We want the suspect alive, if at all possible." "We gotta know where this sick chick came from," Starkweather said. "*I* gotta know." Scully said suddenly, "Call Animal Control." "What?" Doggett said. "Call Animal Control and tell them to bring one of their tranquilizer guns. I'll fill the darts up with tranquilizers, I'm sure one of those ambulances have some, and then I can get a shot at the suspect and knock her out." "You sure as hell are not going to do this alone," Doggett said. "Mulder would bury us if anything happened to you. I'm comin' with as back-up." "Me too," Reyes said. "And me," Starkweather said. Carillo took out his walkie-talkie. "Call DC Animal Control, tell them to bring one of their trank guns and step on it. We need it to immobilize the suspect." He turned to Scully. "Get a vest and mask on ASAP, you are not goin' in there without protection. And you," he turned to Starkweather, "are staying right here where I can see you." Before she could protest Carillo said, "I don't need you gettin' shot because one of those damn fools think you're her. We'll wire you with your partner, you'll be with him the entire time." Doggett told her, "Carillo's right, Starkweather. Just stay here." Carillo's walkie-talkie squawked "Animal Control is ten minutes away, sir." Carillo nodded to Scully. "Get suited up." He then said to Reyes and Doggett, "you two, but first, Agent Doggett, before we get you into your formal wear, let's wire you up with Agent Starkweather." Starkweather and Doggett exchanged looks. She folded her lips tight, but didn't say a word. Doggett looked at her helplessly, but also remained silent as they followed Carillo to one of the SWAT vehicles so they could be fitted for communications devices. "Be careful y’all," Starkweather said when they were all ready to go inside. "And if I hear any screaming, I'm coming in for you guys, whether you like it or not." Doggett smiled and squeezed her shoulder, once before walking away. Scully had the tranquilizer in one hand and her Glock in the other. Reyes and Doggett flanked her. "Let's get this bitch," Doggett muttered as they ducked into the building. Standing next to Carillo, Starkweather folded her arms tightly together and stared up at her building, feeling her throat tightening and her stomach queasy with anxiety. Carillo lead Starkweather inside the surveillance truck. "Alright, Agent Starkweather," he told her. "Scully and Reyes only have audio, but we fitted Doggett up with video and audio. You're gonna help them be eyes and ears. You know this building best since you live here." Starkweather slipped the headset on. "Doggett, Scully, Reyes, you all copy?" "Yes, Agent Starkweather," Scully's voice crackled in her ear. "We're ready," Reyes said. Starkweather could hear her cocking her weapon. "Loud and clear Doc," came Doggett's low voice. "We're preparing to enter the building." "Okay, Doggett," Starkweather sat down on a stool in front of a monitor, looking at her apartment through Doggett's eyes. "Watch the front entrance. There's a blind spot in the corner, check it out first before going up. I'd highly recommend taking the stairs. The elevator's a death trap, very noisy." "Does anyone have any idea," Doggett said in a whisper as they slinked inside. "Where she could be?" Starkweather turned to Carillo. "Detective?" Carillo also wore a headset. "Agent Doggett, SWAT team last spotted her on the third floor. Primarily, our objective has been securing the building and trying to get the civilians and any other injured out of there. We've got snipers situated outside the building, but she moves so damn fast, even with the hostage. We had two SWAT guys go after her, but we lost radio contact with them." "You know, Carillo," Doggett said, sounding miffed, "that would have been good to know BEFORE goin' in here." "Take the second door to the left," Starkweather said. "That's the main stairwell. On the monitor, Starkweather watched Doggett's hand reach out and push open the door. "Okay, we're moving in," Doggett told her. "Be careful," Starkweather bit her thumbnail. Slowly, the trio tiptoed up the stairs, guns out. All three wore heavy bulletproof vests. Doggett and Reyes flanked Scully, armed with both her FBI issued weapon and the tranquilizer gun, at all times. "I got a bad feeling about this," Reyes muttered as they reached the third floor. "Reyes, I hope you're just quoting **Star Wars**," Starkweather said. Doggett reached for the door to the third floor "Cover me." he saw before opening it. The hall was deserted except for two lumps laying in the middle of the hallway. "Oh my God... Starkweather, you seein' this?" "It looks like a body..." Starkweather felt knots in her stomach. Doggett ran to the body and rolled her over. "Oh dear God," he said, looking away, but it was too late, Starkweather had already seen the image of her mutilated next-door neighbor on the monitor. "Doggett..." Starkweather fought to keep her voice steady. "That's my next-door neighbor... Beth Johnson... she's a cop." Scully reached up Beth Johnson's pant leg. "Dammit," she said. "I found a holster but no gun." "Oh no," Starkweather said. "So..." Doggett said. "She's nuts, she's suicidal and she's armed. This keeps getting better and better."
Suddenly two shots rang out and an ear-splitting shriek was heard from the floor up above. "Let's go!" Reyes said and the trio ran towards the stairs...
Meanwhile... Scully's apartment Mulder obsessively kept checking the locks on the doors and windows. He had shut the doors to the bedroom and bathroom. He also kept glancing down at William, asleep peacefully in his playpen. Mulder's stomach was in knots, but he didn't dare leave the living room even just to go into the bathroom to get some Pepto-Bismol for his jumpy stomach. He didn't want William to be out of his sight for a moment. The television was on, but muted, so not to wake William. Rubbing his face, Mulder watched the ongoing drama at Starkweather's apartment complex. He didn't like it one bit that Scully was there. Truth be told, he didn't like it that ANY of them were there. Not that he doubted any of their capabilities. Just that the entire situation made him extremely nervous. Especially for Starkweather. From inside the apartment, in Scully's bedroom, came the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. Mulder's FBI training made him want to go in and investigate... ... but his instincts as a father made him want to grab his son and run like hell. Mulder's paternal intuition won out. In a flash, he grabbed William and his car keys and bolted from the apartment. He had been following Mulder and Scully all night. He parked his car across the street from Scully's apartment, watched Mulder and Scully staggering into the apartment. Less than fifteen minutes later, he watched Scully fly out of her apartment, wearing her FBI windbreaker. He called his contact, "We've got movement on Scully. Mulder and the boy stayed behind." "Stay with Mulder. Scully's been called into work. There's a situation. We've got our people on it as well, so she's covered." "What's the situation." "Charlie escaped." "What? Oh shit," he groaned. "Dammit, why didn't you tell me?" "We just found out Agent Carlos," his contact told him tersely. "We're working on it, but there's problems." "Such as?" "Jurisdiction moved from police to FBI. FBI wants Charlie alive. Snipers have been ordered to disable, not kill." But Agent Carlos wasn't listening any more. "I've got my own situation," he said as he saw a dark figure break Scully's bedroom window. "Gotta go," he hung up his cell phone, took out his gun and leapt from his car. Running towards the apartment, he saw the main door open and Mulder running out, carrying the boy. "Agent Mulder!" Carlos cried out, knowing that the use of his old job title would get his attention. Mulder pulled out his gun and pointed it at Carlos. William began to cry. "Get the hell away from us" Mulder demanded, clutching Will to him tightly. "I'll kill you, I swear to God, you touch my son, you'll die." William howled. Carlos, watching the apartment, held up his hands and said "Man, I'm one of the good guys. You got to get out of here, take my car." "Who are you?" "I'm a friend, that's all I can tell you." He saw the main door of the apartment complex open up and he yelled at Mulder "GET DOWN!!" as he dropped to the pavement. Mulder hit the dirt seconds before the shots were fired. William was screaming in terror now. Carlos and Mulder crawled to the other side of the car. Carlos said to Mulder: "Take my car, go to the "Coffee is My Friend 24 Hour Coffee Shop." Stay there until someone from the X-Files comes for you." "How can I trust you?" Mulder demanded. There was no other way. He had to reveal himself. "I'm an old friend of Agent Starkweather's. Ask her about Lux Carlos." He opened the passenger door. "Get in and get out of here. I'll cover you!" Carlos stood up and began firing at the assailant. Police sirens could be heard in the distance. Mulder and William got into the car and drove away...
Meanwhile... "Doggett..." Starkweather fought to keep her voice steady. "That's my next-door neighbor... Beth Johnson... she's a cop." Scully reached up Beth Johnson's pant leg. "Dammit," she said. "I found a holster but no gun." "Oh no," Starkweather said. "So..." Doggett said. "She's nuts, she's suicidal and she's armed. This keeps getting better and better." Suddenly two shots rang out and an ear-splitting shriek was heard from the floor up above. "Let's go!" Reyes said and the trio ran towards the stairs. Doggett opened the door and saw two more bodies. "Looks like we know what happened to those two SWAT team guys," Doggett muttered. Their protective SWAT issued helmets were gone and they had been shot in the back of the head, execution style. "Guys, I wouldn't take those stairs," Starkweather said, almost nose-to-nose with the monitor screen. "There's too many blind spots. Go back and take the main stairwell." "How did she kill those men?" Reyes said. "How did she catch SWAT team off their guard. "Easy," Starkweather said, "she secured her hostage and she hung off of the bars like a bat waited for them to come up the stairwell, knowing they'd come because they'd hear the old lady screaming. She dropped on them like a rock, knocked them unconscious and shot them." "She's right, look at the railings," Scully pointed out to Doggett as Reyes watched their backs, "yes, it's small, but it's open. All she had to do was hang over the bars of the landing up there and wait." "Guys," Starkweather said tensely. "I want you guys to abort this mission and let the SWAT team take her out." "WHAT??" Doggett said. "It is not worth it," Starkweather said. "It's too dangerous. The body count keeps climbing and this is ONE person. Get out of there." "Starkweather," Scully said. "This woman can blow the entire conspiracy wide open." "And I don't give a shit," Starkweather said. "There's too much at stake for you three to try and take her alive. Scully, you've got a kid at home, Reyes, you fought too long to get transferred to the X-Files and Doggett, you're our only hope for AD when Skinner retires. And personally, I don't feel like running the X-Files Division by myself. I'm telling you, get your asses out of there. Let the snipers take the shot. Let them take her down." "Agents," Carillo said. "This is Detective Carillo. Get out of there. Listen to Agent Starkweather. This is too risky." Starkweather's stomach plummeted suddenly, recalling her very own words. <<The body count keeps climbing and this is ONE person>> "It's too risky... because there's two of them..." "What????" Carillo said. "It has to be..." Starkweather said. "Radio contact was lost with the SWAT team five minutes ago and two shots were fired five minutes ago. Nobody can move fast enough to kill Beth Johnson, secure the hostage and then get into position to attack the SWAT team. It's not possible. There's two." Just then another ear-piecing scream of terror rang from above them "OH GOD **PLEASE**!!!!!!!!!!!" an elderly woman's voice cried out. "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T!!!" Two shots went off, simultaneously. Doggett, Scully and Reyes started going up the stairwell. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" Starkweather screamed into her headset. "ABORT, GODDAMN IT, ABORT!!" She pounded her fists onto the console. "FUCK!!!"
The trio ignored Starkweather's ranting as they flew up the stairs. When they approached the door, Doggett said, "Cover me," and cautiously opened the door.
They could hear voices coming from the other end of the hall. Starkweather's apartment building was shaped like an "L", with the long part facing the street and the short part towards the back. As Doggett, Scully and Reyes went down the hallway; they could hear voices but could not see them yet. They heard two female voices, both sounding eerily familiar... "You're being a fool. They find you, they'll kill you. What part of that don't you understand?" "I don't fucking care, YOU'RE not the one left in that cell to rot." "You've got to come with me. There's no other way. Either come with me or go in a body bag. I don't give a rat's ass. I'm only here because the old man told me to come get you." "Don't leave me, Bravo." "Then come with me." "NO!" "Dammit, quit being so difficult!" While the argument raged on, Doggett, Scully and Reyes got into position. Doggett looked at Reyes and Scully, both women nodded. Starkweather told them, "There's nothing there except a window and a five story drop. Sniper's got a lock if they go in front of the window, but neither one," Starkweather looked at another monitor, "is in plain sight. They're cornered but one or both are armed. And there's the hostage to consider." She took a breath. "God, be careful." Doggett stepped out just a fraction, peeping around the corner. He (and Starkweather down in the surveillance van) saw the hostage lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He looked up and saw two women crouched on the floor, below the window. One was obviously the deranged woman from the surveillance tape, but the other.... the other was dressed head-to-toe in black. Her hair was hidden under a black stocking cap, her face covered with black greasepaint. She carried a hefty gun, a Glock. Only her curves gave away her femininity. Starkweather's eyebrows rose when Doggett's surveillance camera relayed what it saw to the monitors in the van below. <<When did I get transferred to Gotham City?>> she thought. The woman in black looked up suddenly, her eyes bright, blue and wickedly cold. She saw Doggett and fired, missing him by inches. "Alright, alright, we give up," one of the woman said. Two guns went skittering across the floor. Doggett flanked by Reyes and Scully cautiously revealed themselves, Scully still carrying the tranquilizer gun and her "real" gun. The homeless woman was already on the floor, on her hands and knees. The woman in black was standing straight up, hands on head. She looked bored. The homeless woman twitched and whimpered. "Alright, ladies," Doggett said, getting out handcuffs. "I want you to get down on the floor nice and slow onto your bellies and-" Doggett never finished his speech for, lightening quick, the homeless woman sprang off the floor like a tiger and attacked Reyes, knocking the gun out of Reyes' hands. Reyes had just enough time to bring her arms up to protect her face, but that was all, the homeless woman was biting and clawing at her arms and shoulders like a rabid dog. Scully threw down the tranquilizer gun and out of her pocket, pulled a syringe filled with a heavy duty tranquilizer and leapt on top of the deranged woman, trying to find a place to inject her. Doggett yelled into his mouthpiece "We need back-up!" Scully and Reyes needed help, but he couldn't help them until the woman in black was secure. "On the floor, now!" he yelled at her. He should have noticed her hands had been clenched tightly all this time. As she brought her hands down, she threw dirt she had collected from the grimy floor right before she announced their surrender into Doggett's eyes. Once Doggett was blinded, she easily knocked the gun out of his hands, turned it on him and fired it, once, twice. Doggett grunted as the shots hit him square in the chest and he fell. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Starkweather screamed from the van. She seized her gun and ran from the van. "Starkweather, get back here!!!" Carillo called. He yelled into his walkie-talkie. "We need backup, we need backup, agents down, agents down!" He ran after Starkweather. Meanwhile, the woman in black looked once at the two women tussling with the one she was supposed to save and decided it was a lost cause. She leapt over the agents and kicked down the first door on the left. The man who lived there, after listening to the brouhaha right outside his hallway, had locked himself and his pet ferret in the bathroom, where he was lying in the bathtub. That hiding spot probably saved his life for the mystery woman merely charged through the apartment, to his bedroom where he, like Ben and Jerilyn, had a balcony/fire escape. She quickly slipped down the fire escape and disappeared into the night.
Starkweather, followed by Carillo raced up the stairs. She arrived just in time to see that Scully was securing the feet of the suspect. She had managed to inject the tranquilizers into the crazed woman and had managed to put handcuffs on her. But she had to punch her in the head, hard, to hasten the drug's calming process. She slapped handcuffs on her and was using her belt to tie her feet. Reyes was sitting up, her face unharmed except for the promise of a shiner to arrive the next day, but her arms were clawed and bitten. She was pale but coherent. The wounds on her arms were bleeding profusely. Doggett was still lying on the floor, but he was propped up on his elbows, a dazed look in his eyes. Starkweather slung off the white blouse of Ben's she had hurriedly put on over the ratty black T-shirt she was wearing before she set out earlier that day to meet Doggett at the coffee shop. She said harshly to Carillo, "Give me your neck tie," she said as she tore a sleeve of her blouse as a bandage, wrapping it around Reyes's arm. Using Carillo's tie, she bound the makeshift bandage tight. Reyes winced but didn't complain. While she was ministering to Reyes, she called over to Doggett "Talk to me, Doggett. Are you alright?" "Yeah," Doggett said groggily as Carillo crouched down to examine him. "But I think this bullet-proof vest is gonna need some TLC. How's Reyes?" "Feeling like a chew toy," Reyes said valiantly, although she was beginning to feel light headed. "Whoever or whatever that woman is, she knew exactly where to attack," Reyes said while Starkweather tore the other sleeve off of her husband's blouse and Scully had kicked off a shoe to sacrifice one of her knee-high stockings to secure the bandage. "She knew what she was doing, she keep trying to get at the insides of my wrist." Soon, the hallway was filled with medics, police, fed and tenants trying to poke their heads out of their apartments to see what was going on. The deranged homeless woman was scooped up and dragged away. Two stretchers were brought up for Reyes and Doggett. Reyes, almost out of it, was lifted onto the stretcher while Starkweather barked out instructions - "I think she's going into shock, watch her pulse rate," but when the stretcher was offered to Doggett, he waved them off. "Nah, I'm alright," he said as he got up with a groan. Doggett and Starkweather were going to follow the ambulances to the hospital. Scully was about to when her cell phone rang. "Agent Scully, its Skinner. I need you to meet me at the 'Coffee is my Friend 24 Hour Coffee Shop.'" "Is something wrong?" Skinner looked across the table at an ashen-face Mulder, clutching William to him. "Just hurry," he said before he hung up. Mulder looked at Skinner. "Sir," he said wearily. "What the hell is going on?"
Later on.... Agent Reyes' hospital room "Guys," Reyes said wearily, lifting her head off of her pillow. "Please go home. I'm fine. I'm just tired and doped up right now." Her makeshift bandages had been replaced with real ones and the ER doctor gave her a small dose of codeine for the pain. Doggett was leaning against the door like a guard dog while Starkweather was reading the medical charts. "Reyes.... I," Starkweather started, looking at Doggett. "Look... I... I just hate leaving you here alone." "I'm not alone," Reyes said, her words slurring a little bit. "There's a guard at my door. Plus, I am so stoned right now, I'm seeing double. I'm going to fall asleep soon so I'm not exactly going to be fascinating company anyway." She struggled to keep her eyelids open. "Please go home."
Doggett left his guard post and hovered over her. "You sure, Monica?" "I'm sure," Monica nodded. "They only want me here for observation anyway. It's no big deal. You and Jerilyn go home." "Call us if you need anything," Starkweather said but Reyes had already succumbed to the sleep of drugs. She looked across the bed at Doggett. "Come on, she's right. We can't do much more tonight." Doggett stroked Reyes's pretty black hair once and said, "Okay." As they walked down the hospital corridor, Starkweather said, "Reyes' being injured isn't your fault." "Neither is it yours Doc." Starkweather took a deep breath. "I know... but it still feels like it... does that make any sense?" "Yeah... makes perfect sense." "The good news that Annabell the Cannibal’s blood work, so far, is coming back clean. No diseases or anything. I'm more scared about transmission of HIV or some damned thing...." her voice trailed off. Doggett didn't even think of that. "Oh my God." Starkweather looked up at him. "So far, X-File agents usually manage to luck out. Let's hope our X-File luck holds." She noted that Doggett wasn't walking as swiftly as usual. "How's your gut?" "Sore," Doggett said, touching his flat belly gingerly. "The doc said I'm gonna have a hell of a bruise tomorra' though." "It's a damn good thing you had that bullet proof vest on," Starkweather said. They were in the parking lot now, walking towards Doggett's truck. "Yeah... I know, and I could completely fuckin' kick myself for being so slow on the draw, Starkweather. Why didn't I see that she had somethin' in her hands? I should have caught that!" "Why didn't she shoot you in the face and kill you?" Starkweather asked quietly. "I think, there's a greater agenda working here." "Are you talking about God?" "I'm talking about men who think they're God." Starkweather still spoke quietly. Then... apropos of nothing, she asked. "Did you see their faces?" She leaned against Doggett's car. "No... the one had her face all painted up in black. The other had her hair hidin' her face. I did see the eye color of the one in black. They were blue." Starkweather's own hazel eyes looked up at the winter's night sky. "Blue..." she mused. "But you heard their voices." "Yeah..." Doggett was extremely uncomfortable. "I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, but they both sounded like you." "I don't think you're crazy," Starkweather said. "But I'm going to have a lot of questions for Mulder and Scully tomorrow." She stopped looking at the stars and looked at Doggett. "Well, since my apartment is now officially a crime scene, can you drive me to the nearest hotel?" "Oh God, Doc," Doggett shook his head. "Save your money. Crash on my couch." Starkweather opened her mouth to say maybe that wasn't such a good idea but exhaustion, mental and physical overpowered her. "That's the best offer I've gotten all night," she said wearily as tears, against her will started to trickle down her long, drawn face. "Awww...now... here," Doggett said, nonplussed as he had never seen her cry before. Awkwardly he hugged her. "None of that." Her tears did dry up fairly quickly but in a shaky breath with her head still against his chest, she asked "What the hell is going on?" "I dunno..." was all Doggett could say. "I dunno..."
Meanwhile.... The "Coffee is My Friend" 24 Hour Coffee Shop Scully, still in her FBI windbreaker, found Skinner and Mulder, holding a finally sleeping William in a secluded booth. "Mulder, what the hell is going on?" "Agent Scully," Skinner said. "Sit down, this is business." Scully plunked down next to Mulder, frowning. "Well?" "Agent Scully, there is a dead man laying in the street in front of your apartment, apparently shot to death." "WHAT??" Mulder then proceeded to fill Scully in on what happened while she, Doggett and Reyes were storming Starkweather's apartment building. "And so, after we drove away, I called Skinner." "I was actually on my way to meet you and the other agents," Skinner said to Scully who was turning whiter and whiter as the conversation progressed. "But when Mulder called, I did a 180 and went to your apartment to discover police already there. There was a white male, mid to late thirties, shot at immediate range in the chest and head. Whoever this... Lux Carlos is... he's a good shot. And for whatever reason, very concerned about keeping you three alive." "What do you mean?" Scully asked. "While the police were securing the crime scene, I received an anonymous call on my cell. The caller said "Double check the Deputy Mayor's car" and hung up. So I called the bomb squad. It was no coincidence that this Carlos wanted you to take his car, there was enough C4 on that vehicle to blow the block to kingdom come." Scully took several breaths before asking "How do we know that this Carlos can be trusted?" "We don't," Skinner said shortly. "Great, so we're back to Square One, just like in the days of Deep Throat and X," Scully snapped. "There was one other thing," Mulder said, so softly they almost couldn't hear him. "I waited until Scully came before I told you both." Both Scully and Skinner looked at Mulder expectantly. "He told me to ask Starkweather about him. He said that he and Starkweather were old friends." "'Old friends'?" Skinner said. "What the hell does that mean?" "Anything from being pen pals in the third grade to the love of her life. The only thing we can do is ask her tomorrow," Mulder said. "Mulder, you don't think Starkweather's involved in this, do you?" Scully asked, not wanting to believe the worst about her friend. "I believe she's involved indirectly," Mulder said. "But we'll have to wait until tomorrow... or I guess, technically, later on today." It was three in the morning. Scully shook her head, appreciating the irony. "It's All Souls' Day," she said with a sigh. Skinner finished his ice-cold coffee in a gulp and said "I want you three to stay with me tonight." "We'll have to stop somewhere to get diapers and formula for William," Scully said, noticing that Mulder didn't even take the time to grab a blanket for Boo, but in the light of the situation, she didn't care, she was just happy both Mulder and Will got out safe and sound. She shrugged off her FBI windbreaker and wrapped William in it. Skinner slid out of the booth. "You three all ride with me. There's a 24 hour Wal-Mart near my house."
November 2, 2001 Falls Church, VA Despite his aching need for a good night's sleep, Doggett's eyes popped open at an ungodly early morning hour. His chest and stomach really really hurt. He ran his hand over his bare chest and winced. <<Yup>> he thought, <<the docs were right, I do have a hell of a bruise>> as he reached over to his nightstand for the bottle of aspirin and the glass of water he put as an afterthought before he went to bed. Although he hurt all over, he was grateful that he was only bruised and not dead. <<Yay for bulletproof vests>> he thought, choking down the aspirin. He looked at the clock and shuddered, knowing that he should get ready for work, but dreading going in. Not just because he was sore and tired, but because he was afraid of what answers might lay in store for the questions left unanswered last night. The phone rang, Doggett dove for it, remembering that he had a houseguest and a very stressed out one at that, "John Doggett." "John, it's me, Skinner," the AD said. "Don't worry about coming in this morning. I want you and Starkweather to rest up. This may be your only chance to relax before the shit starts flying." "Yes sir." "I do want to see both of you at one o'clock today." "Yes sir."
"Where is Starkweather staying? I want to call her and let her know." "Um..." Doggett faltered. "She's here," he muttered, "on the couch," he added defensively. A heavy sigh was emitted from the Assistant Director. "Be careful Doggett," he said. "You sound like you're questioning my morals," Doggett growled. "She's a married woman." "And if she wasn't?" Skinner challenged him. Doggett said nothing. "Look, I don't care what you people do in your private life, I never had with any of my agents. Just as long as your private life doesn't embarrass the FBI in any way, shape or form. Kersh would love dirt, any dirt he could use as a smear campaign to shut the X-Files down for good. He already did what we thought was impossible and got Mulder fired. And dammit, his timing couldn't have been worse. I can't afford to lose any more experienced X-Files agents. You and Scully are all we have and Scully is more of a part-timer than anything else. Reyes and Starkweather, they're fully competent, but they're rookies. I need you, Agent Doggett, WITHOUT Kersh breathin' down your back, no matter how innocent you think your relationship with Agent Starkweather may be." "Duly noted sir." "That and her husband's a jealous prick and I don't feel like bailing you out of jail because he tried to pick a fight with you and you beat the shit of him." That provoked a small smile from Doggett. "Aw, sir, I didn't know that you cared." "One o'clock, Agent Doggett." "Yes sir." Doggett hung up, got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants over the boxers he slept in. He carefully pulled a T-shirt over his head, wincing again when the skin touched his chest and then quietly tiptoed out into the living room. Last night, after coming out of the bathroom, he had found Starkweather dead asleep, sitting up on his couch. Seeing her, head drooped forward, brought back a bittersweet memory from September 11, when he had come out of the bathroom in the hotel room in Newark, he had found Starkweather, curled up at the foot of his bed, still covered in dust and soot from the explosions, sound asleep, looking like a war refugee. <<But now what are we fightin'?>> Doggett had asked himself as he gently shifted Starkweather into a flat position, found a pillow for under her head, taken off her shoes and covered her with an quilt his great aunt Edith had pieced together for him when he was a boy. He couldn't help it, he worried about her. She lost considerable weight, she had dark, ugly rings under her fiercely beautiful hazel eyes and she was more bad-tempered than usual, if that was even possible. He knew, from his own nightmare days as a Marine during the Lebanon crisis, that she was still suffering from post-traumatic shock plus, she still hadn't fully processed the death of her adoptive father, one of the many victims in the Pentagon attack and now she was dealing with this bullshit. The goddamned Syndicate. Didn't they have better things to do?????????????? Plus her husband was being an ass. Doggett went into the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. Skinner was right. If Ben would try and pick a fight with him for something that he did not do or even dream of doing, Ben would be mushed into little bits and handed back to Mrs. Starkweather in a Sucrets box. Problem was, Ben was a crackerjack lawyer, so even though beating him up would be emotionally satisfying, ultimately it would be financially draining because as soon as Ben would get out of traction, he would sue the crap out of Doggett. And, because he was in the habit of being honest with himself, Doggett knew that he was obsessing over Starkweather's problems because he was having difficulty dealing with his own, watching his friends, his colleagues from the NYPD being killed as they tried vainly to save people from the collapsing Towers. He could hear their cries in his dreams. He could still see the wounded, wandering around, shell-shocked, burned, bleeding, dying... Doggett shook his head and tried very hard not to think about it. He didn't want to drive himself insane. There was enough insanity going on right now. He didn't need to contribute to it. He looked up and saw Starkweather standing in the doorway of his kitchen, blanket wrapped up tightly around her. "'Morning Papa," she said wearily and sat down at the table in front of him. "Hell of a night huh? Wonder what kind of encore today will bring."
Meanwhile... "Scully..." "Mmmpff..." "Scully wake up." "Mmmmmmmrrrrrrrppppppffff..... what is it?" "There's something on me..." Scully, hair wildly tousled everywhere sat up, looked down at Mulder and laid back down. "It's just Skinner's dog," she mumbled. "He's just being friendly." Skinner's "friendly" dog was a hundred and something pound German Shepherd named "Baron." Currently, he was lying on top of Mulder's chest, breathing in his face. "Scully, he's heavy." "Uh-huh," she was already falling back asleep. "Scully, I mean it, he's crushing my ribcage." "Oh, you big baby," she sat up again. "Baron, shoo." Baron leapt off of Mulder and trotted off. Scully flopped back down. "So was it good for you?" "Ha," Mulder said. "And quit hogging the covers." "I am NOT hogging the covers," Scully argued half-heartedly. "And if you wake William up, I will kill you." Mulder and Scully had spent a very uncomfortable night on the sofa hide-a-bed in Skinner's living room. They had fashioned a makeshift crib for William out of a large wicket laundry basket, pillows and blankets. "He looks like Moses," Mulder had commented as they put him in. Mulder looked down and saw that William was still sound asleep. "He's not going to wake up," Mulder said, tugging on a corner of the quilt Skinner had provided for them. "C'mon, Scully, scoot over I'm cold. Today is going to bad enough, I wanna get some more sleep before the shit hits the fan." He tugged insistently at the quilt. "I promise to put the toilet seat back down from now on if you please let me get under the covers." Scully surrendered the blankets. "Mulder..." "Hm?" Mulder curled around her and put his chin on her head. "How do you think the Litchfield Experiments, what happened at Starkweather's apartment and my apartment are connected." "You believe they are connected?" "It's too much to chalk it up to coincidence." Mulder sighed. "Would you believe me if I told you I have no fucking clue?" "No." "Would you believe me if I told you have no clue, but I'll know it when I see it?" "Yes." "Then please let me sleep." "I didn't wake you up. Baron did." "Dana.... dearest.... shut up." "Love you too."
Meanwhile... There was enough insanity going on right now. He didn't need to contribute to it. He looked up and saw Starkweather standing in the doorway of his kitchen, blanket wrapped up tightly around her. "'Morning Papa," she said wearily and sat down at the table in front of him. "Hell of a night huh? Wonder what kind of encore today will bring." "Well, we'll find out later this afternoon, Skinner wants us in his office at one o'clock today." "Both?" "Uh-huh." "Great." "He said not to come to work until our one o'clock meeting. He said to take some time." Starkweather yawned. "I should probably go home. Maybe catch a nap, pick a fight with my husband before work. Goody-job." "Hey, Doc..." "Huh?" "You know how Skinner wanted to give us leave because of the whole September 11 ordeal?" Starkweather looked down. "Doggett, I don't want to talk about that right now." "Jerilyn, dammit-" "Don't call me Jerilyn." "Then don't get defensive on me, especially this early in the morning. I'm not sayin' you're not a good agent. I'm sayin' you're burnin' out. You're overtired. You and Ben still haven't had a chance to sort out your issues. You haven't even taken the time to mourn your father yet." Starkweather glared at him. "Tough to have a funeral when there's no body, Doggett." "I'm sorry," Doggett was instantly contrite. "But you're worrying me. That's all. You're skin and bones. You're overtired and you're bitchier than usual. I just don't wanna have you fall apart." "I'm not going to fall apart," Starkweather said quietly. "I'm not fragile. I'm not made of glass." "Then why can I see through you?" Doggett countered. "Starkweather, you're not foolin' anybody. Burying yourself into the X-Files is not going to make all of your problems go away. You can't delay the inevitable. You can't just ignore shit and hope it would go away. I learned that the hard way. I shut out the world when my boy was killed and I ended up shutting out the one person I needed most - my wife. Doc, I'd really hate for you to repeat my mistakes. You should live to work, not work to live. Or 'exist' might be a better word." Starkweather twisted her wedding ring. "Skinner said he wanted to give US leave," Starkweather said. "I'll only take time, if you do." Doggett opened his mouth and shut it again, smiling sadly. He wasn't going to argue because he knew she was right. He was just as tired as she was. "Alright," he said. "Alright. Fair 'nuff. I'll take time if you take time. Deal?" He stretched his hand out from across the table. "Deal," Starkweather, with an impish grin, spit in her hand before extending it to Doggett. Not to be outdone, with a small grimace, Doggett spit into his hand and took Starkweather's outstretched hand, making sure not to apply TOO much pressure to her tiny hand but at the same time, not delivering a wimpy weak handshake. "Okay then." "Well, at least now, if Ben asks me if you and I exchanged spit, I can honestly tell him yes." "Oh lord," Doggett shook his head. "You're gross." With a funny, sad half-smile on her face, she said in a sarcastic sing-song voice, "You love me." Doggett rolled his eyes, smiling at her. "Go home," he said. "Swap spit with your husband." "See you later," she said, turning to leave. As she walked out of the room, out of his house, Doggett's smile was replaced by a frown. "Bye..." he said, thinking of a song he loved... "Darkness falls & she will take me by the hand Night falls I'm cast beneath her spell She's a Mystery Girl In the night of love, words tangled in her hair She's a Mystery Girl Too late, Doggett realized that she had no transportation and her apartment was on the other side of town. "Oh shit," he said, sprinting from the kitchen, through the living room and out the door. "Starkweather!" he called out, looking around. "....Haunted by her side, its the darkness in her eyes "STARKWEATHER!!!!" "Night falls I'm cast beneath her spell
Meanwhile... In the netherlands between hazy dream and conscious lucidity, the Cigarette Smoking Man heard a strange "ponk - ponk - ponk" noise. He cautiously opened one eye. And saw the figure of a young woman, dressed in black, throwing darts at his old cork dartboard. "You're losing your touch, old man," she said, not even turning around. "You didn't even hear me come in." "I am an old man," CSM said regretfully. "I must depend on others to carry on my work, my mission." She turned around. "I failed you," she said, no trace of an excuse, no plea of mercy. Just stated the facts as they were. Which was why he loved her so. "I was unable to retrieve Charlie." "Where is she, Bravo?" he asked her.
Bravo took off the black stocking cap. Long chestnut curls tumbled down. "The feds took her into custody," her blue eyes flashed angrily. "I tried to talk her into coming with me, but..." she shrugged. "You know Charlie." The Cigarette Smoking Man sat up and lit a Morley. "Yes," he said bitterly. "I know Charlie." "Do we know how Charlie escaped?" "My sources say," CSM stood up. "That she was let out." "Let out???" Bravo couldn't believe her ears. "An enemy within," CSM disappeared into the kitchen. He came back out with a dishtowel and a bowl of soapy water, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Bravo sat in his chair and began to wash the black grease paint off her face as he put out the cigarette out. "Someone who wishes to shut down the New Syndicate." "They can't do that," Bravo snapped. "We've just regained the trust of the Visitors, we've finally regained the ground lost by Mulder's reign of terror. Who... who would be working against us?" "I have my list of suspects..." CSM said. "Marita Covarubias bears a grudge against us, as well does young Justin Leo..." he paused. "Then... there's always Lilly Stanford to worry about," he paused again. "And Alex Krycek." "Alex Krycek is dead." Bravo spit out. CSM looked at her meaningfully. "Is he?" he said simply. "He was shot in the fucking head. I KNOW. I was THERE. I was in charge of video surveillance. YOU put me in charge of that. I have it on tape. Assistant Walter Skinner gunned him down in cold blood." "Bravo," CSM said to his prized assassin as if she was a favorite daughter, which, she was probably the closet thing to a daughter he would ever know. "There are more than one of you," he said pointedly as he found himself looking into the face of Jerilyn Starkweather, only with blue eyes and reddish hair. "Why can't there be more than one Krycek?" Bravo bit her lip. "I think... I'm more inclined to believe the problem lies with Lilly Stanford instead of Krycek." CSM sighed. "I'm inclined to agree with you. Krycek was always more interested in saving his own ass. Lilly..." he sighed again. "Lilly is a problem. Worse than Fox Mulder ever was or worse than what Jerilyn Starkweather could be." "The order is still out to kill Mulder and his family." Bravo studied her mentor coolly. "And you're still against it." "Mulder, Agent Scully, their child... are far more useful alive." "Unfortunately, you don't make decisions anymore." "It won't be like that for long," The Cancer Man assured Bravo. "What do we do about Charlie?" The Cancer Man pondered the issue, peering through his chintz curtains. It looked to be a drizzly, miserable day out there. "She'll have to be the sacrificial lamb." "Starkweather is going to see her."
The Cancer Man turned to face Bravo. "Charlie is probably safer in federal custody than in ours. What if the Visitors took it into their minds to heal her, take away her madness. Instead of minor liability, she would become a major threat." "Like Starkweather?" "You disagree with me in keeping Starkweather and Mulder alive, don't you?" Now he challenged her. "Yes," she said flatly. "This time, I agree with the decision of the Syndicate." "But you will abide by me?" "Of course," she responded instantly, as if she was hurt he would suspect her of disloyalty. "I owe everything to you. I owe nothing to the Syndicate. You have no reason to doubt that." "I want you to leave town," he said. "With Charlie now in the public eye, it's too dangerous to have another sister of our esteemed Dr. Starkweather's suddenly materialize." "Where should I go? Ever since September 11, security's been hell. I barely made it back into the country." He opened a drawer and took out a small, locked metal box. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled out a key on a fine silver chain. Unlocking the box, he took out another key. "This is a key to a storage garage on the other side of town," he told her, handing her the key. Stay here until tonight. Go at dark. Inside the garage is a car, a 1998 Ford Taurus, nothing fancy, nothing eye-catching. There's a VISA credit card plus roughly two thousand dollars in American cash and two thousand British pounds in the glove box. Drive to Canada. Cross the border at Niagara Falls. Go to Toronto. Do not stay overnight at any hotels if you can avoid it. There's camping gear in the trunk. I will buy you enough food and water this afternoon while you sleep. One in Toronto, get on the first flight to London and get in touch with my contact out there. He will direct you where to do from there." He held her hand tightly.
"How long will I be out of the country?" she asked. "Until the publicity around Charlie dies down," he promised her. "Think of this as a well-earned vacation." He patted her hand. "There's a spare room in the basement, behind the false wall." "I know where it is," she said. "I'm going to take a bath, then get some sleep." She withdrew her hand. "Thank you." The Cancer Man watched her disappear down the hall, feeling an odd mixture of pride and sorrow. "Chip off the old block, aren't you, dear?" he muttered as he lit another cigarette.
Meanwhile... Starkweather had walked away from Doggett's house very quickly. She could hear him calling for her, but she continued to walk, shivering, wearing only a skimpy T-shirt, a pair of jeans and a pair of well-loved Nikes that were getting sopping wet by the drizzle. She had left her coat in Doggett's car and didn't feel like getting it. She walked very fast to the bus stop. Her jeans covered up her ankle holster and her shirt covered up her back holster. The bus was only five minutes late, but by that point, it didn't matter, Starkweather was already soaked to the bone. Her teeth were chattering as she paid the fare and climbed on board. There weren't that many people on board, mostly slack-jawed, bleary eyed third shift workers. Starkweather leaned her head against the cold windowpane and watched the world pass by. She tried to shake off the feeling of paranoia, that she was being watched. She rubbed her bare arms, still shivering, still feeling like there was someone watching her. As casual as possible, she turned around to check out the people on the bus. A grossly obese woman, dismally eating Cheetos. A wino, trying to stay warm in his vomit and urine stained clothes. A man way in the back, nodding his head, as if he was sleeping. Starkweather folded her lips together. Although she was still a half a mile away from her apartment, her instincts were screaming at her to get off the bus. She reached up and pulled the "stop string" "Forest and Hunter," the bus driver announced tonelessly. Starkweather scrambled out and started to walk very very fast, not noticing the cold... ... but noticing that the sleeping man had gotten off the bus and was following her... Walking with a purpose, turning her head to check on the status of her follower, Starkweather quickened her pace. The drizzle was now turning into an icy rain. Starkweather forced herself not to run. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her badge while her other hand produced her gun. "Stay where you are!!" she shrieked at him on the deserted street. "Stay right there, I'm a federal agent. I'm a federal agent in a VERY bad mood. You WILL tell me who you are, why you're following me." "Jesus, lady!!!" The man fell to his knees, stammering. "I- I- I- live right there!!!" He pointed at the brick building they were standing in front of. "I'm a resident at the University Hospital.... god, don't shoot me!!" "Prove it," Starkweather said, coming closer. "Prove it that you who you say you are!" With shaking hands he brought out his wallet and took out his driver's license and his student ID. "See... see..." Starkweather examined the identifications. Feeling like an ass, she handed them back to him. "Sorry," she muttered and walked away. "SORRY??!?!?!?" The student yelled after her. "I just worked a fourteen hour day and had two patients fucking DIE on me and you pull a gun on me and you're SORRY?!??!!? YOU BITCH!!!" he screamed in his sleep deprived delirium. Starkweather didn't even hear him, she just continued walking in the freezing rain. Meanwhile, in a parked van across the street, Lux Carlos continued his unauthorized surveillance on Jerilyn Starkweather, "Girl, what are you doing?" he moaned. "What in God's name are you doing to yourself?" He regretted not marrying her before Benjamin Starkweather got his hands on her...
Ben and Jerilyn's apartment Shivering, Jerilyn let herself in. Ben was standing in the kitchen, looking good in his three-piece suit, drinking a cup of coffee. "Jesus, Jerilyn," he explained. "Where have you been????" "Is the coffee hot?" "Yeah... yeah... Jesus Christ, Jeri, you're freezing!" He put his coffee cup down, rushed to the bathroom and hurried out again, carrying her ugly granny bathrobe she loved so much and a thick terry towel. "Are you trying to get sick?" he asked as he tugged off her wet shirt and threw it on the floor, putting her robe over her. Still shivering, Jerilyn slid her jeans off, took off both gun holsters and tied the robe's sash around her tiny waist. As she sat down, Ben handed her the towel and she began to dry her hair. "You didn't WALK in this weather, did you?" he scolded her as he poured her a big mug of coffee. He found the bottle of Bailey's Irish Creme and added a shot. "Jerilyn, it's supposed to SNOW today." "I only walked part of the way," she muttered, bundled her hair up in a turban. She reached for the coffee and slurped down two big swallows, burning her tongue and the roof of her mouth, but she didn't care. "What happened last night here?" He asked, pulling up a chair. "I watched the news. Who got hurt? Reyes or Scully?" "Reyes," Starkweather said, with a twinge of guilt. "The perp attacked her, bit her, tore her up pretty good." "What did she want?" "I have no idea." "Jeri," he said slowly. "Why didn't you come home last night?" Jerilyn looked into the mug of her coffee. "Too tired to," she said vaguely, blinking back tears, not looking up at Ben's face. If she would have, she would have seen guilt, anger and anxious coloring his handsome features. "Oh." "Whatever you're thinking... it's not like that..." "I know," he lied. "Well... if you're okay... I'm going to get to the office," he stood up to go. "Do you need something? Want anything before I leave?" "Yes," she said in a small voice, grabbing the sleeve of his suit. "Stay, just for a little bit." "Jeri-" "Ben, please stay. Five, ten minutes. Honey, how often do I ask you of anything?" Ben checked his watch. "Jerilyn... you're not alright..." he sat down again, holding her face. "Jeri, honey, talk to me." She put her hands to her mouth and her shoulders bunched together. "Jerilyn," Ben leaned forward and hugged. "Sweetheart, come on, what's wrong?" his voice cracked as he rubbed her back. "I can't do this anymore Ben," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "You were right... you were right and I was too fucking arrogant to listen... I should have never transferred to DC. I should have never left Minneapolis. I should have never joined the X-Files." Surprised beyond belief, Ben cupped Jerilyn's face. "WHAT?? What did you say?" He wiped tears away from her face. "Jerilyn, what the hell HAPPENED here last night???" "I don't know, I'll know more when I meet Skinner this afternoon." "Jerilyn... are you talking about quitting?" "I don't want to quit the FBI and to be honest, I really DON'T want to quit the X-Files even... but... Ben... you said it yourself, the X-Files is ruining my life, it's ruining our marriage." She looked at her hands. "It's not worth it anymore. I'm losing it, Ben. I pulled my gun on a civilian because I thought he was following me. He's lucky I didn't shoot him. Don't laugh, I'm serious!!"
Ben looked stricken. "So now what? If you aren't going to quit? Then what? Transfer?" "Well, I can't JUST transfer, not until I've been with the X-Files Division for at least a year, unless there's special reason. Disciplinary actions, compassionate transfer, very similar to the military. Or... there's medical leave..." She looked up at the ceiling. "Skinner told both me and Doggett that he wanted to take some personal time because of the whole September 11 thing... and I know Jenny (her father's second wife, the honorable Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey) wants to go to Sedona to get his house ready for the sale and she wants me to go with. I just... Ben, Doggett said that I need to deal with my dad's death," she didn't notice Ben's scowl at the sound of her partner's name "and he's right. I'm going to take a compassionate leave of absence, to take care of Dad's final affairs and to figure out the next best career moves. I don't want you to think I regret working with the X-Files. There were pluses. I mean... yeah, he's a cocky shit," meaning her half-brother Mulder, "and we'll never see eye to eye, but it's nice to know I do have blood family out there. And Scully's like my best female friend. William," her voice softened, "Boo's a doll. Reyes' great and Doggett," she chose her words carefully, not wanting to fire up her husband's jealousy. Too bad she didn't realize that it was already kindling, "is everything I had hoped for in a partner that I didn't have with my first partner in Minneapolis." She shook her head. "But all those positives don't outweigh the negatives. I mean, I've been killed, what, nearly," she counted on her fingers, "six or seven times now. There is this FREAK," meaning Justin Leo, "that thinks I'm his lost girlfriend and keeps rearing his weaselly head. I'm never home and even when I'm home, someone tries to break in. Plus now, there's a sickie chickie in custody right now who could be my twin that killed at least six people and golly-gosh-gee, looks like me. And you! You've been kidnapped to get to me," she shook her head. "I don't know what to do Ben. I feel like I need to escape, but I don't even know what I'd be escaping FROM." "Jerilyn," he held her hands. "Take the time. You need to take the time." He unknowingly echoed Doggett, "You never even had a funeral for your dad. Go to Sedona with Jenny. Get your head straight. Get some closure. And then, we'll go from there." He rested his forehead against hers. "We'll figure something out. DC's really not so bad," he said. "I just want to let you know... I mean, yeah, I miss Minnesota. I miss my folks. I miss my friends... okay, I DON'T miss Mary Paula," his bitchy older sister, "but my career is growing leaps and bounds, I really like my law firm and I'm making friends here. Plus, let's face it, I wouldn't make the money in the Twin Cities as I am here." He cupped her face. "Don't request to be transferred back to the Cities just for my sake, okay? You know I'm all in favor of getting you out of the X-Files, but we don't HAVE to go back there... unless that's what YOU want? Okay?" "Okay..." "I love you." He kissed her. "I'll talk to you later." "Okay," she clung to him a little longer but then let him go...
Later on that morning... Carter, Spangle and Adams Law Firm Ben was brushing snow off of him when he burst through the doors of the lawfirm. "You're late, Mr. Starkweather," The senior partner, Jessie Spangle admonished him as the receptionist was handing her the mail. "I'm sorry, Jessie," Ben said, sincerely apologetic. "I had a personal emergency this morning, thanks Noelle," he said to the receptionist as she handed him his mail. " "Just don't make being late a habit, Ben," Jessie said crisply. "Noelle, hold all my calls today, unless it's from my daughter. I'm supposed to pick her up from the airport, but of course, with the heightened security, God only knows when she'll get in. Ben, see me in my office in five minutes." Ben's gut dropped into his shoes. "Alright," he said as Jessie walked away. "Shit," he whispered to himself as he deposited his mail in his office, took off his coat, straightened his tie and then went to his superior's office, knees knocking together. Jessie was a handsome woman who took no nonsense from anyone. "Close the door," she ordered him politely. Ben did and found himself standing in front of her desk in parade-rest, as if he was still with the Air National Guard. Jessie's face was lit up with one of her rare smiles. "You can relax, Ben, you aren't in trouble. Sit. Please." Ben gratefully sat down. "I saw the news last night. Concerning the siege at your apartment building? I caught your wife's name, so in all honesty I was not expecting you in at all today." Ben allowed himself a sigh of relief. "She wanted to sleep. She needs to sleep." "Is she alright?" Jessie asked. "She's been through a lot these past few weeks," Ben said. Jessie nodded. "I just want you to be aware that if you need personal time, please let me know. I understand that your life hasn't exactly been... easy, since you joined our lawfirm." "Thanks," Ben said gratefully. "I appreciate that. I will probably need to take some time to go to my father-in-law's house in Sedona. Go through his personal effects. Settle his affairs. Things like that. I just don't know when." "Just let me know." "And I may have to take a day or part of a day for a funeral. My next door neighbor was killed last night. She tried to stop the intruder." "How sad," Jessie said with a sigh. "What a twisted world we live in. Just let us know what you need Ben. You're an excellent lawyer, plus we enjoy your company. We'll work with you as much as we can." "Thank you, Jessie," Ben said again. "I do appreciate your support. Is there anything else you need me for?" "How's the Catts vs Johannes case going?" "The defense made a critical mistake yesterday and they know it." Jessie's eyes glowed. "Did they now?" "Stephen and I are meeting Amy Wesslead," the defense attorney for the case. "For lunch today at one. I think she wants to discuss a deal." "Don't go below quarter million. Start high, but make the quarter mil your sticking point," Jessie advised him. "Since we advised the Johanneses that the most they were probably going to see was a hundred thousand, I think they'll be most satisfied with a quarter." "I've known Amy for years," Jessie remembered fondly. "She was in my sorority in undergrad school years and years ago. One thing about Amy is that she never goes to make a deal unless she knows she's going to lose. Congratulations, Ben." "Thanks," Ben stood up. "If there's nothing else." "Not right now, thank you Ben." Ben returned to his office feeling marginally better with his life. He stopped to get a coffee before going to his office. After filling his mug up with a nice French roast blend, he ducked into his strong hold. Shutting the door behind him, sat at his desk and started to go through his mail. With the silver letter opener his sister got him for Christmas last year, he slit open the first piece of mail, a heavy manila envelope. As he pulled out the materials, the phone rang. "Yeah Noelle?" "Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI to speak to you, sir." "Put him through, thanks," Ben said curtly as he studied the contents of the envelope intently. "Ben, this AD Skinner." "Hello sir," Ben said as he put the materials from the envelope into his briefcase. "I need to speak to you briefly, concerning Agent Starkweather." "Alright," Ben said formally. "I'm listening."
Later on... Doggett was sitting on the bench just outside of Skinner's office. When he heard the elevator doors slide open, he turned his head to see Jerilyn Starkweather walk out. He grinned and stood up. No one would have been able to tell what kind of a nightmare existence she had been living these past few days. She was wearing a heavy black blazer and a dark purple turtleneck with black slacks and black boots with three-inch chunky heels. Her hair was pulled back in its usual boring bun at the nape of her neck, but she put in tiny silver hoops in her ears, which was slightly different, she rarely wore jewelry other than her wedding band and a medal of St. Christopher on a chain around her neck she received as a gift. She was also wearing more makeup than usual, but Doggett strongly suspected it was to hide the dark circles under her eyes. "Hey," she said. "New suit?" Doggett smoothed it down. "No... just haven't worn it in a while," he said, looking down at his dark blue suit. "Just got it from the dry cleaners." "Come here," Starkweather said, "Your tie is crooked," she informed him. Doggett walked closer to her and as she straightened his blue and black striped tie, she asked him, "You ready for this?" "I should be askin' you that." "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." "Mul- duh and Scully are already inside." "How do you know?" "Kimberly," Skinner's receptionist, "told me." "Oh." she finished fussing with his tie. "Is Reyes out of the hospital?" "I dunno. I haven't talked to anybody yet." "Well... let's get the party started." "After you," Doggett opened the door for her.
1:00 PM Eastern Standard Time Starkweather and Doggett walked into Skinner's office. Mulder and Scully were there, like Doggett said, but so was Reyes. "Agent Reyes," Doggett exclaimed. "They let you out." Reyes smiled. "It's not as if it's a prison, John. They do let you out when you're better. Although," she looked down at her bandaged wrists with a rueful smile, "I AM going to be getting some interesting questions while I still have these bandages on." "Tell them you were forced to go to a N'Sync concert and death seemed to be the only viable option," Mulder said with a straight face. "Mulder," Scully started to scold him but Skinner interjected. "Agents," he said formally, "Deputy Mayor, if you don't mind... I'd like to get this meeting started." Everyone in the room mumbled a half-hearted "Yes sir" and Skinner got to business. "To be honest," he said, getting up from his desk. "I don't know what Pandora's Box Carillo handed to us. And I'd like any feedback before anyone even touches it. Deputy Mayor Mulder, as a consultant for Federal cases based on the paranormal, what are your thoughts?" Mulder stood up. He was dressed in a sober three-piece black suit with a dark blue shirt and a darker blue "Regis Philbin" tie. He looked powerful, attractive and extremely tired. "Agent Starkweather," Mulder said, "after you accepted your transfer from Minneapolis to DC but before you and your husband actually moved here, the Admiral approached myself and Scully on your behalf." "Dad? He came to you guys? Why?" Scully told her, "My father and your father were friends from long ago, I don't know if I told you that or not." "I don't think so," Starkweather said coolly, "Or I would have remembered." "Starkweather, you said that your father arranged it so I would secure the Deputy Mayor's position but that there would be a price and you were right," Mulder continued. "The price was to ensure your safety. I had no idea at the time that you and I were related. I thought that the Admiral, using his connection with Agent Scully, was merely asking us as a favor. To protect you." "I am not a child," Starkweather bridled. "Starkweather," Scully said, "we have no doubts of your capabilities. I trust you with not only my life, but with my son's life. But, we have no doubts of the capabilities... of the men who made it their lives work... to keep the populace of the world in the dark of the truth that is out there." "The Syndicate," Doggett mumbled. Then in a louder, clearer voice, he said "Alright, we know that the Syndicate has a hard-on for Agent Starkweather, that's not exactly a secret. We just don't know WHY. Unless YOU," he said to Mulder, "have some sort of theory." "Well..." Mulder said, fiddling with his pen now, "it's kind of out there." "Shock, surprise, dismay," Starkweather deadpanned. "Look, would you stop dancing around the bush and just get to the point? We KNOW my dad was involved with the Syndicate. How? We KNOW the Syndicate doesn't like me very much. Okay, fine. But why? Is it because I'm Mulder's sister or is there something else? YOU know something," she said pointedly to Mulder, "and YOU," she said to Scully, "know something so I think it's time that you share with the rest of the class." "Fine," Mulder said. "Fair enough. I believe that the Litchfield Experiment is more than meets the eye." "Come again?" Doggett said. "I thought that was an independent agency, makin' perfect humans?" "Go with me for a little bit," Mulder asked him. "Let me fasten my seatbelt first," Doggett grumbled. "Last Mul-duh trip I took, I ended up jumping into the freezing ocean from a burnin' oil rig." "You're forgetting about La Isla Luna Blanca," Starkweather reminded him. "Oh, Gawd, did you HAVE to bring that up?" "Do you mind?" Mulder asked, a bit bent out of shape. "Go ahead!" Starkweather said brightly. "It's YOUR show." Mulder had the floor again. "Let’s go back to last spring, before William was born, before Starkweather came to us and right after I was... found." "Dead," Starkweather said. "But to paraphrase 'The Princess Bride', you were only mostly dead. You were infected by some virus, believed to be... **snicker** extraterrestrial. Alex Krycek claimed to have the cure, and tried to blackmail AD Skinner here into killing in-vitro Will but turns out he was just being a dick and smashed it in front of Doggett. Somehow, Scully concocted an anti-viral cocktail and administering it to you, saving your ass. Once again." Starkweather folded her arms and looked at Scully. "Don't you get tired of rescuing him??" Scully shrugged. "Every woman needs a hobby." "Let's go farther back than that," Mulder said. "How did we figure out that I was only Mostly Dead and therefore dug me back up, which I never did thank you all for, I did appreciate that." "Billy Miles," Doggett rumbled. "Billy Miles was found floatin' face down in the ocean. Some fishermen found his body and brought him ashore, and they figured out they were alive. AD Skinner made the connection and ordered you to be exhumed." "Billy, Theresa Hoesing... they were with me the night I took my little field trip to the Twilight Zone. I believe that we were all infected with this virus... to mutate our bodies and to make our minds mush so that essentially, we would become nothing more than their biological puppets." "Who's 'they'?" Starkweather asked Mulder. "And how in the hell did Scully figure out the dosage of anti-virals to give you?" Scully said "I called the doctor who was in charge of my case when I was returned from my own abduction. My body was crawling with unidentified infections. He kept giving me different anti-viral treatments. One finally worked. I called him and asked him for the records from my case. With the data from my own treatment, I was able to determine what kind and how much anti-virals along with some antibiotics to give the Deputy Mayor. And it worked. I took a leap of faith, backed up by hard science." "That's nice," Starkweather said. "Now, how does any of this shit relate to me? Excuse the unladylike language sir," she said to Skinner. "No offense taken, Agent Starkweather," Skinner looked as perturbed as he did in the old days when Mulder was his subordinite. "Get to the point Deputy Mayor... please," he added grudgingly. "Theresa Hoesing was not saved by hard science, but by someone named Jeremiah Smith, a healer. If Scully hadn't intervened with her science, if Jeremiah hadn't intervened with his powers, we would be in the same condition as Billy Miles right now." "Last time I checked, Billy Miles was being scraped off the grill of a Pinto," Starkweather gently reminded her half-brother of how they lost the pursuing Miles by jumping a broken bridge on a motorcycle. Billy had tried to follow, but fell short and was run over on the busy interstate below the bridge. "And do you really think that killed him? You pumped HOW many slugs into his chest at the prison?? Besides, you think a "Pinto" killed him?" "Oh, good point. He probably killed the Pinto." "The Syndicate is... was... whatever... a big believer of not letting the left hand know what the right hand was doing. It helped deceive our government about the Visitors' true purpose here-"
"Get comfortable," Doggett muttered to Starkweather. "He's on a roll." "Joy," Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Plus they convinced the aliens that they were there to help them when in reality they were trying to stop them. They have, I believe, two plans. One, the vaccine to halt the progress of the black oil. And THIS, has actually been documented by Agent Scully, who here has been infected by the black oil and was saved by the vaccine. The second tactic... I believe... was to build an army." "Excuse me?" Skinner asked. "An army. An army of unstoppable strength. Human, but not human because they are not flawed. They can not die. Not by ways that normal humans die." "What?" Doggett said. "What drugs are you on?" Starkweather asked. Mulder pleaded, "Hear me out. There are other X-Files that relate to this. The first case I worked with when that rat, Krycek joined the FBI dealt with experiments on soldiers that included intense sleep deprivation. The remaining soldier, before that idiot Krycek blew him away, hadn't slept in 24 YEARS. Not hours, not days, YEARS. And he was physically fit, although his mental could be questioned. And then there is the Litchfield Experiments. Children genetically engineered to be perfect. Invincible almost, armed with a formidable intellect... similar to yours, might I add, Starkweather. The only problem is, well, most of them went crazy." "**I** didn't," Starkweather said archly. "And besides Mulder, you're no slouch in the brains department either, although your theories are nuts most of the time. Did it ever cross your mind that my brainpower could have been derived from your side of the gene pool?" "Well..." Mulder said reluctantly. "That's what we're here to tell you, which adds credibility to my beliefs. Starkweather..." he bit his lip, debating whether or not to tell her in a room of crowded people. "Um..." "Spit it out," Starkweather said impatiently. "Remember the night we first met -" She interrupted him, "Yeah because you had those three hacks break into my home because you wanted me monitored." "I told you that night to ask for your mother's journal, right?" "Right. And I did but he didn't have it. He told me his destroyed them... that he burned them." Mulder pulled out a black diskette from his pocket. "He didn't destroy all the copies. He gave this to me for safe keeping," he handed it to Starkweather. "The pages of your mother's journal was scanned onto this disk." "What??" she held the disk tightly. Looking around the room, she asked, "All of them?" "I don't know, Jerilyn," Mulder said. "It only goes back to 1973, the year they found you in the Admiral's car." "Is this the same disk you showed me a few months back?" Skinner asked Mulder. "Yes sir." "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner!" she snapped. Mulder sighed raggedly. "Because you hated me," he said pathetically. "Because you didn't trust me." Starkweather held the disk in her hands. "What is on this?" "The truth," Mulder said. "Your mother wrote down her experiences. She shared them with nobody until after you and her were found in Montana when you were six years old. She told the Admiral. He told her to forget about it. She wrote everything down. The Admiral found her journals, forgotten in a trunk in his attic, shortly before you came to DC. He had them scanned onto that disk. I don't know why he destroyed the originals. I don't have that answer. I'm sorry. I don't know why he lied to you." "It wouldn't be the first time," Starkweather grumbled. "So what are you saying Mulder?" Scully asked, "that you believe that Agent Starkweather is a part of some sort of experiment to create..." her face crumpled up in disbelief, "super soldiers???" "Scully, it makes sense. And we have the evidence in hand." "Who?" "Your double, your twin, Starkweather. Possibly triplet." "Triplet," Starkweather muttered. "Doggett," Mulder turned to him now, "you yourself said that the second suspect, the one that got away, had Starkweather's voice." Doggett shifted uncomfortably, "Well... she sure sounded a lot like Starkweather, but I don't know Mulder... it was dark. There was a lot of commotion. She threw dust in my eyes... her eyes... her eyes weren't brown-" "Hazel," Starkweather corrected him. "-like Starkweather's. They were blue." "Contact lenses. Genetic tampering, maybe." "Or maybe a coincidence," Doggett held his ground. "I don't think so," Mulder disagreed. "I do not believe this is a coincidence at all. I believe... I believe," Mulder paused, looking at everyone in the room. This was not going to go over well. "I believe that Agent Starkweather is inadvertently part of the Syndicate's Plan B, to use alien technology to create a super-soldier, if you will, to fight them. I believe that the Syndicate as a beta tester may have funded "The Litchfield Experiments". To see if it can be done, and what... "bugs" for lack of a better phrase, they need to work out." Starkweather snorted. "You have proof. Oh wait, I forgot who I'm dealing with." "I don't have proof yet," Mulder said. "But I will." "No... Agent Scully will. The burden of proof always falls to her," Starkweather sniffed. Scully glared at her, but said nothing. "Starkweather," Doggett snapped. "That was uncalled for. We all work together," he gave Mulder a dark look, "whether we agree with each other or not. And, although I think Mulder's alien army idea is a crock of crap, no offense-" "None taken." "I do believe that you're indirectly involved, somehow. I'm sorry," Doggett couldn't look his partner in the face, "but those two women DID sound like you and one DOES look like you. "Reyes," Skinner said, "you're awfully quiet. What do you think?" "Yeah, Reyes, what's in your crystal ball," Starkweather said snidely. "STARKWEATHER!" Skinner snapped at her. "Enough!" "Look, I'm sorry!" she fired back. "I... I know I'm being a bitch, but put your self in my shoes for ten seconds. I feel like I'm being treated like someone's science project. This is my LIFE that we're discussing here, not just some funky X-File. I mean, Jesus Christ, Mulder, how would you feel if I opened an X-File on YOUR son?" she asked him, then turning to Doggett. "Or yours?" "That's enough," Doggett's eyes narrowed. "Point made?" She snarled at her partner, her friend. "Point made, and taken," Doggett said stiffly. "But you had no call to be so rude to Reyes. You know that." "I'm sorry," she said sincerely to Reyes. "Go ahead, what do you think?" Reyes had been extremely quiet, especially for her. She didn't even flinch at Starkweather's barbed remark directed at her clairvoyant abilities. She took no offense. She could see the fiery waves of her aura enveloping her. Her opinion wasn't going to help matters at all. But she learned a long time ago, to always trust her instincts. "I believe, Agent Mulder is right," she said quietly, steeling herself for the explosion. But perhaps the tongue lashing from Doggett tempered her mood for Starkweather didn't say anything except, "I see," and she pulled out a chair and sat down. Skinner issued an order, "Deputy Mayor, I'd like to put you on retention. I feel your expertise would be valuable on this case." "That's not a problem," Mulder said, looking even more exhausted, and yet oddly determined at the same time. "Agent Scully, Agent Reyes, I want you two to head up this investigation." "What?" Doggett said while Starkweather's jaw dropped open. "Do you have a problem with that Agent Doggett?" "Yeah, I do," Doggett said, "No offense meant towards Agents Scully and Reyes but why are we not included?" "Agent Starkweather is obvious, it's too personal. As for you Doggett.." Skinner heaved a ragged sigh. "I'll need to speak to you in private. Reyes, Scully, you'll need to get to work." It was their dismissal. "Yes sir," Scully said, rising. Reyes just nodded, looked at Doggett, opened her mouth to say something, but swallowed it and walked out of the office. "Starkweather," Skinner said. "Please give that diskette to Agent Scully." He might as well slapped her. Starkweather looked up at Skinner with wounded eyes. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on the last link she had to her adoptive mother. "Jerilyn," Mulder said. "It's okay. I made copies. I've learned the hard way it's foolish just to keep one copy. I'll get you another one." Starkweather pressed her lips together, then walked over to Scully and handed it to her. "Thank you," Scully said softly. "Sir?" she said to Skinner, using that one word to inquire if he needed anything else of her. "That'll be all, Agent Scully." When she left the room, Skinner said to Mulder, "You can go too, I'll be in touch." "Alright," he said to Skinner. To Starkweather, he said "I'll talk to you later, alright?" "Fine," she said, looking at the floor. When Mulder closed the door, Skinner looked at both Doggett and Starkweather. "Agents, we have a problem." "What's the problem?" Doggett asked. "Budgeting," Skinner said, jaw clenching. "With what happened on September 11, with all the heat the FBI and CIA is getting for 'letting this happen'" he snorted angrily. "The Bureau is ciphering as much money into "Homeland Defense" as possible and cutting back on "frivolous" expenditure."" "And the 'X-Files' is, of course, considered frivolous," Doggett pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Before I called all of you in here, I just got out of a conference call meeting with Deputy Director Kersh, the Director himself and the new head of the New York Field Office. The Director thinks that the X-Files needs to cut back on staff." "WHAT?!?!" Doggett shouted. "The New York Field Office was so impressed by your work at Ground Zero, it has been suggested that you and Doggett be transferred to New York." "Oh no," Starkweather's shoulders slumped. "I haven't even been here a year yet!" "You said there's a new head in the New York Field Office. What's his name?" Doggett asked. "Brad Follmer," Skinner told him, but looking at Starkweather. "Agent Starkweather is familiar with him." Starkweather closed her eyes in pain. "Yes sir," she muttered. "He was my superior in Minneapolis." She looked like she was about to cry. "I hate New York," Doggett said bluntly. "I'll quit before I'll be transferred over there." "Before either of you say or do anything stupid," Skinner said, "listen to me for a minute. Agent Starkweather, before the terrorist attacks, the X-Files caseload increased a full 33% percent from last year. I requested to recruit a new agent. Before this nightmare with... whatever the hell that thing we have in maximum security... popped up, Agent Scully had just given me a rough draft of her end of the year report. The X-Files caseload went up another 5%. So, even with you and Doggett, that division is sadly understaffed. I am trying to work with the Director on a compromise. Agent Scully is going to remain working on her "mom hours" schedule and we're probably going to start TDY-ing her out to Quantico to teach soon. Then the bulk of Scully's salary will come from Quantico's budget and not ours and we still get to retain Scully. Mulder..." he sighed. "The Admiral was working covertly with Kersh to get him reinstated once his term as Deputy Mayor was up. Now that the Admiral is gone and the Director breathing down our necks about cost... I don't see that happening." "Why would **Kersh** want Mul-duh reinstated?" "Kersh **doesn't** but the Admiral had Kersh on a leash." "Not anymore," Starkweather said. "As for you two and Agent Reyes..." Skinner stood up, put his hand in his pocket. "I'm retiring in less than two years. It's not a secret that I've been grooming Doggett here for my job. I mentioned that to the Director and we're both in agreement that Doggett should remain here in DC, under my close personal supervision. As for you and Reyes..." Skinner sighed. "The New Orleans office wants Reyes back badly and Follmer expressly asked for you to come back." "Why?" Starkweather asked. "He hates me." "Political reasons. You're a hot item right now, Agent. Especially after the interview you and Doggett did for MNBC. You helped the Bureau look good in a time when we looked like we dropped the ball." "Sir... I've only been here since April. My husband and I had just gotten settled. I can not ask him to pick up and start all over again. And besides, Follmer and I DID NOT have a good working relationship. He was a heartbeat away from firing me." "Agent, listen to me," Skinner said. "I'm working on a way to keep everyone in DC. There's something funny going on and I need all of you... you and Doggett, Reyes, Mulder and Scully here. In the X-Files." "How?" Doggett asked. "By proving to the Director that the X-Files is not a frivolous department. By putting Scully and Reyes on the case concerning your look-alike," he said to Starkweather. "If I allowed you to work on it, Starkweather, it would look too much like you were using the Bureau's resources for personal reasons. Mulder did many great things, but made many mistakes along the way, such as advertising that he was trying to find his sister with Bureau money, Bureau equipment and Bureau time," he shook his head. "The one thing I wish Mulder would have done is buried his agenda a little deeper. It would have made my job easier." "Okay," Doggett said. "Scully and Reyes, with consultation from Mul - duh work the double case. Great. Fine. Wonderful. Where does that leave us?" Skinner picked up airplane tickets and a manila folder off of his desk and handed them to Doggett. "Athens, Georgia." "Why?" Doggett said. "Not that **I'M** complainin'" the Georgian native drawled, "I just don't get it." "Then you'll probably have to go to Des Moines, Iowa right after that." "Oh, God, not Iowa AGAIN!!!!" Starkweather griped. "I hate that state!!" "What's the situation?" Doggett said. "A possible security breach," Skinner handed Starkweather the file.
She read the file. "Hackers???" she whined. "You're sending us on a mission about hackers?" "Hackers who have gotten into the X-Files and are fictionalizing case files and putting them on the website," Skinner told her. "Look, I know it's just a bone I'm tossing you, and yes, I already know that it's two girls who are Internet 'penpals' that are just screwing around and don't realize how much trouble they're causing... but it looks good on paper. It looks good to the Director. It makes you two look vital to the X-Files and it makes the X-Files look vital to the Bureau. That's the key. You leave for Athens tonight." "Tonight!!!" Both Doggett and Starkweather cried out. "Tonight," Skinner said flatly. "The sooner you start on this the better." Starkweather looked up at Doggett. He saw despair and exhaustion in her eyes. "Sir," Doggett said, speaking for both of them. "I hate to bring this up, but you made the offer for us to take some personal time off due to the September 11 tragedy." "Duly noted," Skinner said crisply. "I'll arrange for you both to have a two week leave when you return but it'll have to be at half-pay. I'm sorry. Money is extremely tight." "Understandable," Doggett grumbled, thanking God that his truck was paid for. Dented (he was still having trouble with his insurance company to pay for the damages from when Frohike 'borrowed' it) but paid for. Starkweather, meanwhile, said sarcastically, "Good thing I married a rich lawyer." "Speaking of Ben, I spoke to him this morning and let him know that we're sending you off on assignment." "Thank you." <<I'm sure he was thrilled>> she sighed. "Anything else?" Doggett asked. "One last thing," Skinner said. "Agent Starkweather?" "Yes sir?" "Lux Carlos. Does that name ring any bells?" "Yes sir... we were in the same flight when I was stationed in Phoenix... but I haven't seen him in years." "You two were in the Air Force together?" "Yes sir..." Starkweather's eyebrows rose. "Why?" "It will be explained later. Good luck on your assignment... and try not to scare the girls too badly," he said.
Outside of Skinner's office... Dazed at the recent turn of events, Starkweather leaned against the wall of the hallway, slid halfway down and covered her face with her hands. Doggett, who was infuriated rather than stupefied, kicked the wall. "Got-dammit!!" "Doggett, I don't wanna go to New York," Starkweather said pathetically. "You think I wanna??" Doggett asked her. "I hate that city." "What do we do? Play their game? Jump through their hoops?" Starkweather shook her head. "This is NOT why I became a fed." "Trust me," Doggett said, "this ain't what I had in mind either." "What I don't get," Starkweather said, "is why Skinner asked me about one of my ex-boyfriends." "You didn't mention that." "Didn't feel it was revelent. He was the last guy I dated before Ben... but... yeah... I hadn't talked to him in years. I wouldn't even know how to find him." "Weird," Doggett said. "Damn weird." "Do you... well..." Starkweather bit her lip. "Skinner never 'just' asks something. There's always a reason. You don't think that he could be a part of this whole Annabell the Cannibal thing, do you?" "Don't know. Can't say without meeting the guy and we'd not supposed to worry 'bout that. We're supposed to leave that in Mulder, Scully and Reyes' hands." "Doggett," Starkweather asked him. "What time does our flight leave tonight?" "Ten o'clock," Doggett said with a groan. "Which means we should have been at the airport an hour ago to wait in line." Starkweather looked up at him. "I wanna see her." "What?" "My twin. My double, my whatever the hell she is. I wanna see her." "Oh God... Starkweather, are you a sado-machoist?" "Good question. In this case, it must be yes."
"I don't think seein' her is a good idea, Doc." "Papa John, please..." she begged him. "I don't expect you to understand, but I need to see her. Can you take me to where she's holding her? I didn't drive, Ben took the car and I wasn't about to take the motorcycle out in this crappy weather." Doggett sighed. "I still say this is a bad idea," he closed his eyes. "But I'll take you... and I'm goin' in with ya. Whether you like it or not." "You don't have to come in with me." "I'm goin' with you, Doc," Doggett said softly. A pause. "Okay," Starkweather said. "Okay..."
Waldenbrooks Asylum The precipitation kept varying from sleet to snow. "God, one thing's for sure. I will NOT be complainin' 'bout the weather once we get to Georgia, that's for damn sure," Doggett bitched as he parked his truck. He got out, opened his umbrella and walked around to the other side and opened the side door for Starkweather. "Such service," she purred, holding her hand out like a queen. "Try to be nice, and what thanks do I get?" He helped her down. Together, they bolted inside, where they were meet by a portly African-American woman with a beautiful voice and haunting eyes. "Are you the federal agents?" she asked. "Yes'm, I'm Agent Doggett, this is Agent Starkweather." Doggett shook the chunks of snow off his umbrella. "I'm Dr. Rachelle Nyman, I'm the physician in charge of the case." She glanced at Starkweather, did a slight double take. Starkweather restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Dr. Nyman composed herself. "Follow me, please." Doggett and Starkweather followed her to her office. "We're sorry to bother you on such a short notice," Doggett apologized. "Don't worry about it. I know the Bureau has taken a special interest in this case." "What can you tell us about the patient?" Starkweather forced herself to be clinically detached from the situation. Dr. Nyman sighed and shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. She's dangerous. That's for sure. And strong. And intelligent." "How intelligent?" "Extremely. Genius levels." "Have you had a chance to make some sort of a prelim diagnosis?" "We have theories but..." Dr. Nyman trailed off. "Schizophrenia?" "Possibly." "Multiply or split personality?" "No. There is a strong sense of self. She knows exactly who is she." "Brain damage?" "We hadn't the opportunity to do an CT scan on her yet... mostly because no one wants to come near her." "Um... sociopath?" "Again, a possibility. We're not sure," she said raggedly. "This one is gonna make me lose sleep, I can already tell." "How so?" Doggett asked her. "This case, this patient, is not going to be easy to treat. As I stated before, she has a very strong sense of self, of being. She says her name is 'Charlie', but gives no surname. When I asked if Charlie was her full name or a diminutive of her given name, she said that her full first name was Eve Charlie-" Doggett and Starkweather glanced at each other. <<Eve>> they both thought warily. "- but she claims she has no last name. Whether or not she is being truthful, I can't say. However, her intelligence... is mind blowing. When I went down to check on her this morning, she was engaged in conversation with one of the orderly about the pros and cons of Libertarism. Libertarism, agents. She was having a coherent, intelligent discussion about a not well-known and not very popular political faction. And she was making sense. She was also, incidentally, during that conversation had been drooling heavily and had just soiled herself when I came in." Both Doggett and Starkweather's face screwed up in repulsion. "She's very disturbed. And very violent. There's no warning when she'll have a fit. And we've only had her for a day. I've started to record her conversations, to hopefully find clues to her disorder and then find some sort of treatment. Right now, she's in the tightest security we have to offer. Right now, sedation seems to be the only choice we have to offer as far as treatment goes, but what kind of life is that? To be drugged to the eyeteeth every waking minute? Especially if there is an alternative treatment that could if not cure, at least control the disorder? We don't know exactly what's wrong with her. Everything recorded is going to be turned over to a federal agent in charge... an Agent Scully?? But there's a short circuit somewhere in her brain, and to be honest, agents, for the life of me, I don't know where. I don't even know how to diagnose her. If this was Medieval times, I would have proclaimed her possessed and called a priest by now." "We appreciate your candor, Dr. Nyman." Starkweather told her. "Agent... I'm sorry, I forgot your last name." "Starkweather." "Agent Starkweather, are you sure you wish to see her? She is a very disturbed woman. I've been taking care of the mentally ill for almost sixteen years now and this case even bothered me." "How so?" Dr. Nyman looked Starkweather straight in the eye. "Because what I have determined is that 'Charlie', as she asked to be called, DOES have knowledge of right and wrong. She just doesn't care. She feels no remorse. If someone is in her way, she will kill him, if it serves her needs. It's as if she's a machine. Programmed to be like that." Doggett and Starkweather exchanged another look. "I wanna see her," Starkweather said. "And I do too," Doggett said.
Meanwhile... Mulder was hunched over his computer when there was a rap on his door. Before he could ask who it was, his ditzy receptionist pranced in, "Foxy," she said in her poor-girl's breathy Marilyn Monroed voice, "I have a letter for you." Mulder glared at her over his wire-rimmed reading glasses. "Put it in with the rest of the mailflow," Mulder said irritably. He felt very run down and was not in the mood for any idiocy today. Especially from his small-brained, big-breasted receptionist (and he strongly suspected that her breasts were more of a miracle from Victoria's Secret rather than a gift from God.) "Um... I can't... I was told to make sure that you get this and that you read it." "Bunny," Mulder leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I don't have time for any foolishness today. I need to get this report completed for the Mayor TODAY before close of business." "I know," Bunny's lower lip trembled "and don't be mad at me but the man said you HAD to read this today," she thrust it at him. "And that you need to contact him after you read it. And he was just a HORRIBLE man. I asked him THREE times to put out his cigarette, but he refused until he left. He put it in my mug and I wasn't done with my cocoa yet!" she whined. "What?" Mulder felt his mouth go dry. "I KNOW. I mean, there is a great big sign on my freakin' desk that says 'no smoking' but he just- hey!" she exclaimed as Mulder bolted from his desk and ran from his office. "Where are you going??" Mulder stopped at Bunny's desk and picked up her Pepto-Bismol Pink giant coffee mug, stained with harlot red lipstick prints. A Morley cigarette butt was floating in the thick hot chocolate remains, ash seasoning it on top like pepper. He slammed the mug on her desk. "God damn it!" he said. "Bunny! Bunny! Come here!" "Yes Foxy!" "Which why did he go?" "Who?" "The man. The man, Bunny, who put his cigarette out in your mug." "Oh, I don't know. I was too mad to pay attention. I just got up to give you this-" she held up the envelope and Mulder snatched it out of her hands. "No calls from anyone today," Mulder said. "Except from the Mayor, of course, and Dana Scully or Jerilyn Starkweather. Can you remember that?" "Huh?" "Never mind," Mulder snapped and slammed the door in her face. Bunny shrugged and went to clean out her coffee mug. Men were so temperamental. Mulder tore open the envelope, expecting a letter, but finding photographs instead. "Oh my God," Mulder said, flipping through the picture, stomach churning. There were not surveillance photographs of stolen personal moments of their lives. They were personal photographs stolen from their homes. The first picture was of Mulder and Samantha, when they were children, shortly before she was abducted. They were smiling and leaning against a tree. That picture had been framed and sitting on Mulder's desk next to his home computer. The second photograph was the one Starkweather had taken at Doggett's impromptu Labor Day barbecue, one of the very few candid shots of the three of them together, his own little family. After Starkweather had gotten her film developed, she had given Scully a copy and Scully framed it and hung it on her wall in her living room. <<We look so happy>> he thought bitterly, touching Scully's photographed face with his thumb. <<God damn it, it never does end>> The third photograph was of Ben and Jerilyn's wedding portrait. Mulder studied the picture with the intensity of a biographer. Ben was smiling grandly, dressed to the nines in an expensive tux. If he hadn't seen this picture in the Starkweather's home, he wouldn't have recognized Jerilyn at all, for she looked so fragile and ethereal, a far cry from the hard-as-nails professional image she strove for and usually succeeded. He liked how, instead of a veil, she wore a crown of roses on top of her head and how her long hair curled around her shoulders. Mulder looked at Jerilyn closely, saw his father's eyes and his father's mouth in her face. He was willing to bet she was bottle blond and her hair was really just as dark as his. And he was also willing to bet she was going to be pissed when she found out someone broke into her home. The fourth picture was of a little dark-haired girl, her arms looped around an older man wearing a straw hat. Her hair was in pigtails and she smiled broadly, missing a front tooth. They were standing in front of the infamous Alamo. Mulder frowned, wondered if this was Starkweather again, then realized that it was a photograph of Reyes and someone she obviously adored as a small child. Father? Grandfather? He wasn't sure, he didn't know Reyes very well. The fifth picture was of Reyes again, only this time all grown up. She was at a party, somebody's birthday party in a very crowded restaurant with lots of rock and roll memorabilia. <<Hard Rock Cafe>> Mulder deduced. The table was full of food, presents and beer and everyone had squished together for the photograph. Reyes was cheek to cheek with a blond man with an arrogant glint in his blue eyes. The man reminded Mulder of Westley from "The Princess Bride." <<Who the hell is that guy?>> he wondered as he moved onto the next photograph. The sixth and final picture broke his heart. Frozen in time, Doggett was carrying his son, who had to be about four when this picture was taken, on top of his broad shoulders. It looked like they were at a zoo, Central Park Zoo, maybe? The boy was giggling, looking down at his daddy, Doggett was looking up at him, smiling. Mulder struggled, trying to think of a time when his somber friend had smiled. Mulder smirked. He smiled whenever Starkweather was being a smartass, but it was usually a "God-help-us" half-smile. <<But,>> Mulder asked himself, <<if something, God forbid, happened to William, how much would YOU smile>> He thought back to last night, the close shave they had, he had barely gotten out of Scully's apartment, his car had been rigged with a bomb. He closed his eyes. <<What sick game are they playing with us?>> Obviously the theft of these photographs, nearest and dearest to all involved, was to prove that there was no safe haven. Nothing sacred. There was a short note included with the photographs: "We see you when you're sleeping 555-2110" Furiously, futilely, Mulder flung the photographs across the room. "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!" he yelled. <<It's the same shit, they try to scare us, intimidate us, bend us to their will so they can continue with their "project" continue to proprogate their lies because they are secure in the knowledge that we're too afraid to do anything about it.>> Mulder looked down at the photographs, picked up the one with himself, Scully and the baby and the one with Ben and Jerilyn. Problem was, this time they might be right.
When he started his crusade, when he was looking for the Truth behind Samantha's disappearance, he had nothing to lose. No wife, no children, no family left except his parents and he was barely on speaking terms with his father at that point. Now, he had Scully and William and Starkweather. Mulder felt sick, for the first time, unsure of himself, his place, his responsibilities. <<This is how my father felt>> he finally realized. <<This is how he felt when he had to chose between his quest and his family. And he chose his quest. At first, he thought the Syndicate was acting for the general good of all, but learned too late what it was really about. The Truth has always been my quest. I thought, as trite as it sounds, the Truth would set me free. Instead, it has trapped me. And the ones I most love. How can I sacrifice my family, my son... for a personal code of honor. And yet, can I live with myself if I bury the Truth, succumb to their threats?>> Mulder picked up the rest of the photographs and the cutesy rhyme. He looked at the phone number again. Frowned. Put the photographs on his beautiful mahogany desk. Picked up his cell phone. Dialed. Listened to it ring. He heard someone pick up the phone and Mulder didn't even wait for whoever answered to say 'hello': "Listen you black-lunged son-of-a-bitch, I want you to stay away, alright? Stay away from Scully, stay away from Starkweather and her husband, and stay the fuck away from my son!" Dry laughter. Mulder's stomach clenched tighter. It was not the laughter of the Cancer Man. It was the laughter from a bad memory. "No..." Mulder said, leaning against his desk, feeling light-headed, "You're dead. I watched you die..." "And I watched them buried you," Alex Krycek said as he sat in his car, parked across the street from City Hall. "And here you are. And here I am."
Meanwhile... Waldenbrooks Asylum Dr Nyman escorted them to the maximum-security ward, which, predictably, was in the basement. They rode down the elevator in silence. Doggett put his hand on Starkweather's shoulder. She looked up at him and tried to smile. Giving her an awkward pat on the back, Doggett then let his hands drop to his sides and watched the numbers above the elevator doors light up in descending order. He was expecting the doors to open up to a medieval dungeon setting. He hated mental hospitals. "We're here to see Eve Charlie, Daniel," Dr. Nyman said. "These are Agents Starkweather and Doggett." Daniel nodded curtly at the agents. "See the movie 'Silence of the Lambs?'" Doggett and Starkweather nodded. "Same rules apply. Don't touch the glass, don't approach the glass. She is dangerous. Okay?" Doggett and Starkweather nodded again. "And don't try to be all FBI tough, okay? You feel over your head, call for help. There are three orderlies in their office and I'm right here. And there's security monitors right here," he pointed to his desk. Starkweather leaned over and sure enough, eleven little monitors, ten for the cells, one for the orderlies' office, flickered on his desk. "So you're covered. Okay?" Doggett and Starkweather nodded again. "Okay. Dr. Nyman, will you be joining the agents?" "If they don't object." "No," Starkweather said. "I don't object at all." "Okay," Daniel took a ring of keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the massive metal door. Dr. Nyman ushered the agents into the "orderlies' office." Three orderlies, all looking as buff and brawny as Daniel looked up at them. Starkweather looked at the wall and saw their tools of their trade. Straightjackets. Stun guns. Enough drugs in their medicine cabinet to dope up a baby brontosaurus. Starkweather jumped when Daniel slammed the door behind them. Doggett looked at her again and again put his hand on her shoulder. This time she acknowledged his touch with a return touch, she gripped his hand with hers and squeezed, but she didn't look at him. "Which patient, Dr. Nyman?" one of the orderlies asked her. "Eve Charlie." All three orderlies looked at Starkweather. "Woo. Okay," the orderly who asked said. He approached Starkweather. "My name is Bill. You have any problems, holler, okay?" "Alright," she said. "Thank you." "Opening door one!" he announced suddenly, taking out his keys and unlocking the door that lead to the cellblock. He unlocked the heavy door, revealing another door, made of bars. The smell of the mad, Clorox and urine hit Doggett and Starkweather like a slap. The second orderly when to the control panel and said, "Opening second door." The bars slid into the wall. "She's in the last cell," the first orderly said. "Did Daniel tell you about the glass?" Starkweather nodded. "Good, because she already bit me once," he held up a hand, where Starkweather and Doggett saw teeth marks and stitches. "Good luck agents." Doggett, Starkweather and Dr. Nyman walked through the door. Starkweather jumped again as the bars and the main door slammed shut at the same time. Still gripping Doggett's hand like a lifeline, they walked down to the last cell, ignoring the leers of the other insane inmates as they passed them. Dr. Nyman followed, eyebrow arched at the agents apparent ease with each other. She wondered what their relationship REALLY was, especially since it was difficult to miss that big sparkly diamond ring on her left hand. She dismissed the thought. It was none of her business. They could hear the sound of a woman, singing. They arrived at the final cell. A woman, clad in the slate blue surgical-scrub like pajamas, was lying on the floor, feet on the wall. Her hair was fanned out about her head. Her face was turned away from the fiberglass barrier. She was the woman singing. She had a beautiful voice. She had Starkweather's singing voice: "Electricity, eye to eye Standing in front of the glass, Starkweather cleared her throat. "Charlie?" The woman lying on the floor did not move, but she stopped singing, so Starkweather tried again. "Charlie, my name is Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather, can I talk to you?" Charlie turned her hair and Starkweather thought she was going to faint. Other that the russet hair and the demented blue eyes, Starkweather finally knew what the cliche "looking into a mirror" meant. Same heart-shaped face as hers, same wicked little smile when she was purposely being a bitch. Same nose. Same eyebrows, arching up high. "I know who you are," she said. "Echo." "That's nice," Starkweather said blandly. "Can you fill me in a little bit about who you are?" "Nowonmai, nowonmai," she started jabbering. She cackled diabolically. "Nowonmai." "What the hell??" Doggett muttered. "She's been saying that ever since we've brought her in," Dr. Nyman muttered back to Doggett. Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Charlie," she said impatiently. "I've seen the movie." Charlie abruptly stopped her gibberish. "Huh?" "'The Exorcist.' Seen it. Great movie. Better book though. 'Nowonmai'? 'I am no one'?" Starkweather instantly translated the gibberish. 'Nowanmai' is the phrase 'I am no one' backwards." "Tricky," Charlie wiped away a trail of drool from her chin. "Tricky tricky tricky little sister. You are the baby, you know. Of all of us. The youngest always gets spoiled you know." She leapt to her feet and leaned against the glass. "It must be nice, to always have your way." Her breath fogged up the glass. She wiped it away with her dirty hand. "I don't always get my way, Charlie," Starkweather pleasantly retorted. "Is that why you were chanting that phrase from the movie? Because you feel you are no one?" "I AM A NO ONE!!" she screamed, pounding her hands on the glass. "I AM A FUCKING NO ONE! I AM A SCIENCE PROJECCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCTT!!" she collapsed and huddled into a little ball, sobbing like a five year old child.
Starkweather blinked. "Charlie..." she said. "What do you mean by 'science project'?" "I don't have ANYTHING," Charlie hiccoughed, "I don't have a home. I don't have a job. I don't have any money. I don't have a social security number. I don't have a husband. I can't have babies. I don't have friends. I don't have a pet. And I would love a pet. I would love a kitty. Or a puppy. Or a bunny. But I like kitties the best." She rubbed her eyes. "Something that's MINE," she said fiercely. "If you don't have a home," Starkweather asked her, "where were you staying?" "In a place... like this... only there was a TV. And they let me watch movies." She then glared at Dr. Nyman. "I LIKE movies. I LIKE Disney movies. I WANT a TV here! I HATE this place! It's BORING!" She fell to her knees. "Please sign me out of here, Echo, please get me out of her. I ran away because I wanted to find YOU. Please please please please take me out of her." Like a penitent before a strict Mother Superior she clasped her hands together. "I won't be any trouble. I'll be good." <<Oh boy...>> Starkweather said. "Charlie. I don't think I am allowed to sign you out of here." "Yes. You. Are." Charlie stood up. "I heard them talk about you all the time. Jerilyn Bailey this, Jerilyn Bailey that. Oh, Jerilyn joined the Air Force. Jerilyn left the Air Force. Jerilyn joined the Air Guard. Jerilyn is going to medical school. Jerilyn is going to Quantico. Jerilyn is getting married and changing her name. Jerilyn's pregnant, make sure she loses that baby." "What," Starkweather turned deathly white. "What did you say???" Charlie wiped the snot off of her face. "It's always about you. They are always talking about you." "Who's 'they'?" Starkweather asked her. Charlie was ignoring her questions. "They see you when you're sleepin', they know when you're awake. They know when you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake..." she smiled wickedly at Starkweather. "They know everything about you, baby sister. They know when you were born. They know how old you were the first time you disposed of your virginity. They know what color your hair really is," she leaned against the glass again, whispering, "they know who your real mother is." She pushed herself away, laughing as she hugged herself. She sat on her cot. "I'll tell you who she is if you get me out of here." "I can't do that, Charlie," Starkweather said. "You BITCH!!" Charlie stood up again, howling. "YOU SELFISH BITCH, don't you LEAVE me in this hellhole!!!" She flopped down onto the bed again, curling into the fetal position. "You CAN'T LEAVE ME!!" Abruptly she stopped screaming. She pushed her hair out of her face. "You don't know how lucky you are," she sniffled, sitting up. "Spoiled brat, spoiled fricken brat. That's what Alex and Bravo always called you. The 'little brat.' 'Gotta go do surveillance on the little brat today.'" Charlie primly folded her arms. "Well, you fucking brat, you won't ALWAYS have your way," she hissed. "I KNOW things. They TALK about things that they think I'm not payin' attention to," Charlie walked over to the glass and stood directly in front of Doggett. "I know things about you that you haven't even realized yet." She began to sing again: "The room is spinning Doggett only stared at her with a sick sense of pity. Starkweather unconsciously started to fidget with her wedding ring. She turned to Dr. Nyman, who had been quietly taking notes the entire time. "I've had enough," she said quietly. "Alright." Dr. Nyman snapped her notebook shut. "Let's go."
Starkweather, knowing she was committing an act of futility, took two steps closer to the glass. Charlie crouched down, put her palms to the glass. "Charlie, I have to go to work now. I'm going to be leave for a few weeks." Instantly Charlie's eyes teared up. "Listen to me, Charlie, I will come back." "You'll come for me?" Charlie asked, so much like a little girl. "I'll come visit you." Starkweather promised her. "And I'll help you. We're going to try to help you, get you some medicine... something... so you can have all the things that you want. A home... a job... a normal life. But you HAVE to let the doctors help you." Charlie continued to cry. "Nobody's ever wanted to help me before," she hung her head. Moved by a profound pity, Starkweather went closer to the glass. "Agent Starkweather!" Dr. Nyman hissed at her as Starkweather put her right hand up on the glass, in the exact spot where Charlie's hand was pressed against the glass on the other side. "Charlie, I promise I will help you." Charlie, like a cat, bolted from the glass and dove for her cot. She pulled the blankets over her head. Starkweather stepped away. "Agent Starkweather that was very foolish of you," Dr Nyman started to scold her but one glare from the catty hazel eyes shut her up. When they reached her office, Dr. Nyman asked her, "Do you mind if I forward my notes to Dr. Scully?" "No," Starkweather said gruffly. "That's fine. Dr. Nyman, I would research the possibility of abuse, mistreatment. I believe that there is a mental disorder, bi-polar depression maybe, but heightened by physical and psychological abuse. Check into ritual abuse. Cult behavior. Satanism. Speak to Agent Reyes. That's her area of specialty. Okay, so the chick killed more people than cancer, but," Starkweather shook her head. "The girl's an onion. We're gonna have to peel away, layer by layer." "Do you, in your professional opinion, believe she's treatable?" Dr. Nyman asked her. "I dunno," Starkweather muttered. "But, Jesus Christ, get her on some sort of meds. She's higher than a kite. She'll hurt herself." She grabbed her coat and muttered a goodbye. Doggett also grabbed his coat and shook Dr. Nyman's hand. "Agents Scully and Reyes will be in touch." "Agent Doggett," Dr. Nyman said. "Is the patient and Agent Starkweather blood-relatives?" "Charlie seems to think so." "Why do you suppose she was calling her 'Echo'?" "Beats me," Doggett said. "Be sure to tell Reyes 'bout that." Doggett finally left the doctor's office to find Starkweather sitting on a couch in the visitor's lounge. She was hunched over, shoulders shaking. "Aw... damn..." he muttered. "I knew this was a bad idea." He crossed over to her and sat on the coffee table in front of her. "Hey... Doc..." Then, to his disbelieving ears, he heard... a giggle. "Doc?" Starkweather was *laughing*. "Doc, have you lost your mind?" "No," she giggled. "I was just picturing my next family reunion," she sat up, trying to muffle her giggles. "Oh God," Doggett tried to suppress a smile. "Between Mulder scaring Ben's family with tales of little gray men and Charlie bringing lady's finger sandwiches, REAL lady's finger sandwiches, mind you," she hiccuped with laughter again. "We really do put the "FUN" back in 'dysFUNctional'," she sniggered, "I'm sorry, I'm know that I'm going to burn for eternity for this, but Jiminy Christmas... this is funny as hell. Spooky Mulder for a brother, Annabell the Cannibal for a sister. Jesus Christ, nice gene pool I'VE got," she giggled again. Doggett couldn't resist. He started to sing softly "Psychos to the right of me, Spooky to the left, here I am, stuck in the middle with you." "BUHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!" Starkweather burst out. "Oh my God," she said, wiping tears away. "Come on Doggett," she said. "We’ve got a case to prepare for." Doggett stood up and held out his hand to help Starkweather up. "Yeah, let's go before some of the other inmates here decide to make friends."
Later that night Mulder's apartment Scully was still holding the photographs Mulder gave her, staring at him in out and out disbelief as he told her what happened to him at City Hall. She didn't like the creepy feeling of not being safe in her own home. "Oh God." "I know I left the door unlocked when Boo and I ran away from the intruder last night," Mulder said, looking down affectionately at the boy who was playing with soft, squishy, spongy blocks. "So it would be easy to take your picture. As for the Starkweathers, well, with all the chaos with the 'Charlie' fiasco, I'm sure her apartment might have been fair game as well. As for Doggett and Reyes and my place... Scully I have no idea. I called the stooges and they went through this place with a fine tooth comb. There are no bugs. There are no cameras. I had the super replace my lock today. Then, I added a deadbolt and a new chainlock. God..." he smiled wryly. "I'm out-Muldering even myself." Scully looked at the picture of Doggett and his son. Flipped back the picture of Reyes at the birthday party with her beaux. The Starkweathers' wedding. She shook her head. "They knew exactly what they were looking for," she said. "They took imagines of our most personal memories, and threatened us with them." She took the black diskette out of her pocket. "What is so threatening about this diary? I'll be honest Mulder. I spent most of my day reading this. So far, it's pretty boring." "You haven't gotten to the 'good parts' yet," he said darkly, rubbing his temples. "You've read it?" "Yes." "Mulder," Scully changed subjects. "Dr. Nyman, the physician in charge of the suspect, of Charlie? She said that Doggett and Starkweather came in today." "It's probably more accurate to say Starkweather went to see Charlie with Doggett in tow." "Dr. Nyman said the session was pretty intense. She's writing up a preliminary report and faxing it to me tomorrow." "Where is Starkweather right now?" "At the airport. She and Doggett are being sent on assignment in the field, totally unrelated to this cas- Mulder, are you alright?" She noticed that he was suddenly very pale. "I'm fine," he lied. When Scully glared at him, Mulder grinned weakly. "Turnabout is fair play." "Mulder-" "I'm tired and I don't feel well, alright?" he finally said. "Oh Mulder," she sighed, "Why didn't you say something?" "You feel guilty complaining about a headache when the known universe is poised on the edge of the Apocalypse," he tried smiling but fell short of his goal. Scully scowled. "I'm putting you to bed, shut up Mulder," she deftly halted any innuendo Mulder would have made had he had the chance to open his mouth. William looked up from his blocks and watched Mommy help Daddy up from the chair. Daddy's eyes were closed and he was letting Mommy lead him to the couch. William followed, crawling, wondering what was going on. Scully covered Mulder up with a ratty old quilt and turned off the overhead lights. Mulder was shivering. "Tell me what's wrong, Mulder," she asked him. "What hurts?" She took his pulse, frowning. "My head," he said. "I think it's a migraine." While smoothing his hair away from his brow, she asked him, "Anything else?" "I'm just tired and my head hurts," he said irritably. Eyebrows arching, Scully said, "Fine." "Now, come on, don't-" "Don't what?" "I'm fine, Scully." "I don't believe that." Scully said doggedly. "We don't know what those... we don't know what happened to you while you were gone." "I don't want to talk about it." "Turn-about is fair play Mulder. You want to know the truth about William. If he's normal or not. I want to know what happened to you while you were gone," she spat out angrily. "How can it be that you were given a clean bill of health after they released you from the hospital, to all of a sudden, have your immune system be completely out of whack? How could a man, that for all those years I worked for you were never ever sick a day, not including the time where your water supply was being tainted with LSD, all of a sudden be the most sickly human being I've ever known. You caught the chicken pox Mulder. A childhood disease that you already had. You get migraines. You never get migraines. Explain that." "I told you everything that I remember." "No. You didn't. I asked you if you had any idea what you've been through, all you said 'Only what I see in your eyes.' That's such a bullshit answer Mulder. I think, you, of all people have been hiding the truth from me. I think you remember everything that happened to you." "Scully," Mulder's face was drawn taught with pain, "can this please wait?" he asked. William had finally made over to his parents. Whining, he tugged on Scully's slacks so she would notice him and pick him up. When she did pick him up, she said, "Mulder, we need to know. I need to know," she leaned her head against William's. If I know what happened to you... maybe we can figure out how to stop it." "There is something you can do," Mulder said weakly. "What? What is it?" "Help me to the bedroom," he asked, almost begging. "Okay," Scully said with a defeated sigh. "Just let me put William in his playpen for a second. Swinging William in the air, she stood up and when over to the positively ancient playpen that Mulder had dug out of storage from his mother's old house. Scully cringed every time she saw it, convinced that one of these times she was going to find William folded up like an accordion in it. But the old thing hadn't failed them... yet. It was structurally sound, Scully herself checked it a hundred times. "It's fine, Scully," Mulder would drone every time she did so. And it was. It just looked like a piece of crap. Even now, Scully hesitated. A soft, tired baritone murmured across the room. "It's fine, Scully." Mulder didn't even open his eyes. Scully placed William inside, gave him some toys. William began to snuffle and whine. She checked her watch, it was his bedtime. "Just a minute, baby," she said to William. "I have to look after your daddy." She returned to Mulder and helped him stand up. Leaning on her heavily, Mulder let her guide him through his tiny living room, through the hallway and into his darkened bedroom. Mulder staggered towards his bed and collapsed into it. Scully, groping around in the dark; finally found his comforter and pulled it over him. "You're coming back, right?" Mulder asked. "Well, I thought I would stay out on the couch and let you rest. Plus I need to put William down-" "Bring in him here with us." "Mulder, he squirms so and you said that you were tired-" "I know, I would just feel better if you guys were near," Mulder mumbled. Scully could barely hear him. "Alright," she said. "Let him fall asleep before I bring him in." She left him, troubled. She wanted to believe him so badly, that everything was fine, that God had been kind and sent the Angel of Amnesia to Mulder and took the bad memories away. But his evasiveness on the subject was the dead giveaway that he hadn't been so lucky. She took William out of the obsolete playpen and dressed him for bed. William had been practically asleep anyway. Grabbing his baby blanket, she scooped him up again and after double checking all the locks on the door, carried William down the hall. Mulder was breathing deeply, so thinking he was asleep, Scully crept around the waterbed and carefully got in, laying on her side with William in the crook of her arm. She was surprised when she felt Mulder rolled over and spoon around her. "G'night Scully." "Get some sleep," she said. "Maybe you'll feel better in the morning." Later on that night however... Mulder woke up to strange sounds. He sat up, pressing his hands to his ears. "Scully," he said thickly, "what is that? What's that noise? Scully?? Scully......" Scully was sound asleep and Mulder slowly laid back down, turning away from her, hands still clamped over his ears. <<Not again>> he thought in agony. The strange ringing sounds in his ears, the double vision, the seizures, the mental instability, the strange strange brain disorder that plagued him ever since that alien artifact showed up on the shores of Africa. Which Scully had thought had been cured in the high-risk genetics transplant surgery between him and the Cigarette Smoking Man. Which it had not been. It had only been delayed. He remembered, so many years ago now, Duane Barry's cries 'No no! Not again!!!!' He forced himself to breathe. <<Deep breaths. Take deep breaths>> Mulder told himself as the noises dwindled down from a full symphony of chaos to a solo of confusion. Head still throbbing, Mulder then heard another cry, but this one he was not afraid of. It was the sound of his son starting to cry. "Hey, Boo," he said, getting back up and reaching over Scully to grab the boy, "none of that. You'll wake up your mom," Mulder whispered as he laid back down, with William on his chest, rubbing his back. Soon Will stopped fussing and fell back asleep. Mulder closed his eyes. Put his arm around William’s little body as his other hand rested on his sternum, just above William's head. He began to fall into uneasy dreams, dreams with no visuals, only audio. **Take my hand because I am your father** William's chubby little hand reached up and grasped Mulder's finger...
Meanwhile... Outside of Mulder's apartment. Alex Krycek leaned against his car, looking up at the old brownstone apartment building. He dug into the pockets of his black leather jacket, pulled out a packet of Morley Lights and a gold Zippo lighter. Pulling a cigarette out of the package with his teeth, he then put the pack back in his pocket and lit it expertly. He hadn't liked scaring Mulder like that, this afternoon. But, as usual, he was going poking around where he should have been and was going to get a whole lot of people in trouble and a whole lot of people killed. <<Damn, he was more of a liability now than when he was actually working in the X-Files.>> he thought as he puffed away at the cigarette. He almost wished he would be reinstated, would be hampered by rules, regulations, laws and protocols. He sighed. He didn't like his job anymore. Didn't like his place in the world. Didn't like being Alex Krycek anymore. So he changed. Back to her true form. Normally, she would have waited until she was in a car or down a dark alley, but it was three-thirty in the morning and not a soul was out there. The dark black hair suddenly grew out into long strawberry blond curls that hung well below her rear end, the suave olive skin faded into a bone china white. The hands became tiny and delicate and the torso morphed from a hard-chest and a six pack into a comely hourly glass figure. The height was dramatically reduced by a good three inches. The eyes changed from the sly foxy brown to a shining alien silverish gray. The change took five seconds. If Mulder or Scully had woken up and gone to look out the window, they would have wondered why Agent Starkweather was leaning again a 2001 Ford Focus, smoking a cigarette.
Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport "Jeri!" She turned around and saw Ben, in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting underneath on of the many televisions suspended from the ceilings of the waiting areas in the airport. He got up and folded up the newspaper he had been reading. Jerilyn slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder and walked over to her husband, kissing him. "Hey Counselor," she said warmly. "How was your trip?" "Long." Jerilyn sighed as they started walking towards baggage claims. "Boring. In this day and age, a very good thing. What about you? When did you and Jenny get in?" "Last night. Late." "Flight go okay?" "Yeah," Ben yawned and took her carry-on bag. "It was okay. I slept most of the way. I still feel all jet lagged." "What did you end up doing with Caesar?" she asked. Their next door neighbor, the slain Officer Beth Johnson, had watched their pet cat when both were out of town. "Took 'em with. Whined to the stewardess. Proved that he was not a weapon of mass destruction-" "Don't joke about shit like that ESPECIALLY in an airport." "Who said I was joking? Anyway, they let me take up in the cabin, we didn't have to put him in the baggage. The plane was practically deserted. He's at the house with Jenny right now." "Okay..." When they reached Baggage Claims, Jerilyn asked, "How was Beth's funeral?" "Sad. Her family's a mess. It had to be closed casket," Ben said as he handed her the carry-on bag again so he could grab her suitcase and duffel bag. "They appreciated the flowers you sent them though." "Oh good. You told them I was on assignment, right?" They started walking to the exit. "Yeah... how was that case by the way?" Jerilyn paused, eyebrows scrunched together. "Weird," she finally said. "Really flipping weird." "How weird?" "It was a definite MOTW." "M..O...what??" "Internet jargon, MOTW, "Monster Of The Week." Used almost exclusively on message boards pertaining to the X-Files television series. Mostly on the Official X-Files Forum." "Wait... the X-Files has its own TV show?" Ben asked incredulously. "Why aren't we seeing any royalties?" "Because," she said sweetly "they haven't put my "character" on the show yet." "Oh. Well. You better get on that." "Ben," Jerilyn did a complete one-eighty. "Why haven't you been returning my calls?" "I tried to call you back," Ben said wearily as they walked outside into the blazing Arizona sunshine. "At weird times." "Well, God, Jerilyn, one time I'd call, you'd be in Georgia, the next you were in Iowa, how in the hell could I keep track of the time differences?" he said defensively. "The car is over in that parking ramp," he said gruffly. They walked in silence. Once they were in the car and Ben pulled out of the ramp, she said, "Is everything arranged then? I wasn't sure, since I was so busy time-zone hopping," she said coldly. Ben let her jibe slide past him. "We're meeting with the lawyer tonight to go over the will. Then tomorrow, we'll start packing up the Admiral's house." "Happy Thanksgiving," Jerilyn said darkly, looking out the window. Ben glanced at her as he maneuvered through Phoenix traffic and made his way to Sedona, Arizona. "Honey, I'm sorry," he finally said simply. Jerilyn sighed, but didn't respond or look at him. Swallowing, not wanted to make a bad situation worse, it took him quite a bit for him to muster up the strength to say to her, "Jeri, I talked to Scully right before I left..." "And?" "She said to tell you that she wants to meet with you about Charlie as soon as you get a chance when you're back in DC." "There's something else," Jerilyn finally turned around. "Something you don't want to tell me." "Yeah..." "Well..." "Mulder's not getting any better Jerilyn." She looked away again, at the starkly beautiful desert landscape sprawling ahead as they left the metropolitan oasis behind. "His migraines are worsening?" "He had a seizure, Jeri," Ben said softly. "Two days ago." "Oh my God..." Jerilyn breathed, hugging herself tightly. She looked at Ben helplessly. "You know I can't leave the X-Files now." "Can't say I'm exactly surprised." "How's Scully?" "Hanging in there. You're convinced this is an X-File?" "It's just too fucked up not to be. I mean, come on. The guy, after coming in contact in 1999 with a substance that may be extraterrestrial in origin all of a sudden has frenetic brain activity and basically goes ape-shit, only to be 'cured' by some weird ass miracle surgery, only in 2000, to mysteriously disappear, poof, into the night sky. Whilst he is MIA, Doggett finds documentation that Mulder had been secretly seeking treatment for a 'brain tumor' before he disappeared. And then, he's returned to us, but he looks dead so we freakin' buried the guy Ben. Mulder was literally six feet under. But we figured out that, oh, oops, he ain't dead, so we dig him up and Scully figures out to flush the virus that was keeping him barely alive out of him. And the doctors pronounced him cured. Cured of any torture, of any brain disorders, of anything??? Pronounced him perfect health? Then all of a sudden, his immune system goes to shit?" Jerilyn shook her head. "I don't buy it. That man's somebody's guinea pig. And if it's happening to one, it's happening to others." "Sounds like a bad movie." "Tell me about it." "Jeri, what if, whatever is wrong with him, it can't be cured?" "To every problem there is a solution," she said simply and didn't speak for the rest of the trip.
Later on... The Admiral Jeremy Bailey's house While Jerilyn's adoptive father had been quite old, her stepmother, Jenneva Wesley-Bailey was considerably younger. Her crow-black hair had nary a gray hair to be seen and her wrinkles were minimal. She was neither thin nor fat, but she always dressed and carried herself regally. The Queen of the Senate. Jerilyn knew there was no love between the Admiral and the Senator, at least not like the love he had for Lynnette, her adoptive mother. While Jenny ruled the roost in Washington, the Admiral had remained behind, content with his lemon trees and his cacti gardens. The Senator and the Admiral had a friendly relationship, but it was not a marriage of love. It was a marriage of power, similar to the arranged marriages in the days of the Roman Republic, where senators married their daughters to their friends to strengthen their clout and public standing. Jenny was no daughter of duty, but a power in her own right. Jenny and Jerilyn also had a friendly relationship, but Jerilyn did not confide in Jenny, hardly even considered her a "step mother." Jerilyn had moved out on her own by the time that the Admiral married the Senator. When Ben and Jerilyn walked into the house, Caesar the cat leapt of the coffee table he was sunning himself on and curled himself around Jeri's legs. "Hey baby," she said crouching down, stroking her pet. "Missed you, your furball." "Jeri, is that you?" Jenny came out of the kitchen. "Oh, it's so good to see you again," she hugged her and Jerilyn as politely as possibly, extradited herself from the embrace. "Hi Jenny," Jerilyn smiled. After exchanging pleasantries, Jerilyn said. "Can you excuse me? I need to make a phone call." "Don't be too long," Jenny said. "Your father's lawyer will be here at six o'clock and I figured you'd want to get cleaned up and eat something before he comes." "This won't take long," Jeri promised and she disappeared into her father's bedroom. Jerilyn felt extremely uncomfortable being in her father's room but it was the only place she was guaranteed privacy. She picked the phone and dialed, ignoring the picture on the nightstand of herself and the Admiral when she was eight years old. "Scully." "Scully, it's me." "Starkweather. Did Ben talk to you?" "Only a little bit. What happened?" "Well, two days ago, after I finished another session with Charlie, who is making no progress by the way, Mulder and I took the baby to the store to do some grocery shopping for Thanksgiving. I realized that I forgot something so I went back an aisle or two. I think I had to get stuffing. Anyway, I heard a crash and then William screaming, so I ran back to them and Mulder had fallen flat on his back. Convulsing. Violently." Her voice was not weepy or hysterical, nor was it detached or clinical. It just sounded unbearably sad. "How bad were the convulsions?" "It was a grand mal seizure. He spent the night in the hospital. He's here with me now," she looked over at Mulder who was lying on her bed, snugged under an afghan her grandmother had knitted for her years ago. Although he was drugged to the eyeteeth with pain medication for his headaches and now convulsions, his face was still screwed up in pain. Scully smoothed his hair from his brow and continued to run her fingers through his hair as she continued to talk to Starkweather. "The day after Thanksgiving, we have an appointment with on of the top neurologists at the university hospital here in town." "Are they checking for epilepsy?" "They're checking for everything." "Scully, I hate to be the one to suggest this, but have you thought that this crap may be caused by 'extreme possibilities' to use a Mulderism?" "Yes," she said instantly. "But we have to rule out the normal possibilities. "Understandable. Keep me in the loop," said the woman who only last April hated this man with a passion. "I'm flying home Sunday. Can you do me a favor though?" "Sure? What?" "Check on Doggett. He said he was flying to Savannah for Thanksgiving, but I think he's full of shit." "I'll call him." "Thanks Scully." Starkweather hung up and returned to her duties at hand. Meanwhile, Scully looked down at Mulder, who was finally waking up. "Hey," he said, speech slurred as if he had been drinking, on of the side effects of the pain medications the doctors prescribed, "Who’s that?" "Agent Starkweather. Checking to see how you're doing," Scully sat on the edge of the bed and kissed his forehead. Mulder wrapped his arms around her and Scully lay on his chest, listening to his heart. "E'vything's gonna be fine, Scully," he slurred out. "I've surviv'd much worse y'know." Despite her anxiety and nervousness, Scully laughed. And they stayed curled up together that way for the rest of the evening until William woke up and cried for their attention.
Sedona, Arizona Ben and Jerilyn were crashed out on the hideabed sofa in the Admiral's living room. The Senator had elected to take the spare bedroom. No one wanted to sleep in the Admiral's bedroom. Jerilyn hadn't slept all night. As Ben snored next to her, she had curled away from him, cuddling Caesar who was loving the attention. She couldn't turn her brain off, couldn't stop thinking, processing information. Mulder sick, not getting better. Charlie, also not getting better. Ben, upset about something, being uncommunicative as usual. The will reading. The will reading was pretty cut and dried. The Admiral had left nearly everything to Jerilyn but had also left Ben and Jenny large and generous amounts of money as well. Ben and Jerilyn had looked at each other in shock when the lawyer explained the Admiral's assets. Neither one of them realized how wealthy the Admiral had been. Now it was theirs. They were both so used to living to paycheck to paycheck, despite Ben's success at the lawfirm, they didn't know how to handle the news. Now the student loan that funded Jerilyn's tuition to Quantico would be paid, they could get a new car, maybe a house. They finally didn't have to struggle financially anymore. It felt unreal and depressing all at once. Now all was left was to sort through his personal belongings, keep what was sacred, cover up the furniture and lock the door. Call the real estate agent and put the house up for sale. Part of Jerilyn was terrified that the Admiral wasn't really dead. There was no body, making acceptance difficult. She was afraid that they would go through all the ritual, all the routine that follows death, only to have him rise from some unmarked grave somewhere. "Jeri, angel, couldn't you have waited?" She could just hear his voice. She just wished there was a body to bury. She sat up in the lumpy hideabed, shooed Caesar away and slid out of bed without disturbing Ben. In the dark, she dug in her suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt and slicky pants, sweat socks and her tennis shoes. After she dressed, she grabbed a black baseball cap and quietly slunk out the door. She loved the crisp clean desert air, loved the view of the snowcapped mountains to one side of the town, the bleak stark beauty of the desert on the other side. She started to jog down the quiet street. It was actually still cool out. Her morning run took her past an old Catholic Church. She jogged past it, stopped. Turned around, looked up at it, and walked back towards it. She walked up the short flight of stairs and pushed at the door. Amazingly enough, it was unlocked. She let herself inside. The church nearly deserted. There were one or two elderly people on their knees, mutely saying the Rosary. Starkweather smelled the heady combination of candlewax, cactus roses and incense and felt lightheaded. She walked towards the offertory candles, dug in her pocket for change, plunked a few quarters in the metal offertory box. She picked up the box of matches next to the candles on the giant candleholder and lit a match. She started to light votive candle after votive candle. When Jerilyn married Ben, she converted to Catholicism, mainly to keep Ben's family happy. Actually, Ben's bitter older sister Mary Paula was the only one who had made any real noise that Jerilyn had no religion, but it just made everything easier when she enrolled in the Adult Catholic Catechism. Plus, she didn't really practice Catholicism, but then, neither did Ben. Still, the Catholic mystique fascinated Jerilyn, as did the superstitions of all religions. All the little things devout Catholics did just to bring a small bit of grace and holiness into their lives. <<Hell, it can't hurt,>> Starkweather thought as she continued to light candles. <<This candle is in memory of my father, Jeremy Bailey, who raised me as his own. This candle is for my mother, Lynnette Bailey, who also took me in as her own. God, I miss her. This candle is in memory of my 'other' father, my biological father, Bill Mulder, who I've never met and never will. This candle is for my friend John Doggett, in hopes that he doesn't spend Thanksgiving alone. This candle is for my husband, Ben Starkweather and myself. Our marriage is going to hell in a handbasket and I don't know how to stop it. This candle is for Charlie, a very disturbed and very abused woman that for whatever reason, has entered my life. And this last candle is for my brother Fox Mulder. He's very very sick and he needs help... he needs a miracle...>> An African-American priest had just finished speaking to one of the elderly ladies that attended the early bird morning Mass. He looked up and saw the woman in the sweaty T-shirt and black baseball cap, busy lighting candles. He walked towards her. She didn't even notice, so lost in thought was she. When she finished lighting the last candle, she blew out the match, and stepped away from the votives, watching them twinkle and glow. "Can I help you, my child?" Starkweather jumped, turned, her hazel eyes wide in surprise. "Lux!" she whispered. "What are you doing here?" "Saving souls," he whispered with a grin. "Bullshit," Starkweather hissed. "Since when has the CIA gained religion?" "Follow me," he said, "and I will hear your confession." "Ha," Starkweather said, but she followed him into the confessional. Actually, the confessional was a room instead of the old style booths with the sliding screens. True, there was a screen with a kneeler if the penitent was not comfortable telling his sins to a servant of God, however, there was also a nice oak table with a large leather-bound Bible sitting on it. Carlos settled himself in one chair; Starkweather perched on the other chair, glaring at him. "So," she said, eyeing his soutane, "your lovelife's hit an all time low, I see." "You haven't changed a bit, Bailey-girl," he said affectionately. "Just my last name," she reminded him sweetly. "Yeah, well..." Starkweather squirmed. "What can you do?" "I can give you something," Carlos said, digging into his pockets. "It won't give you back your father, but it can give you something else." He took out what looked like a small bottle of perfume. "Are you saying I smell?" "We've disguised it. We put it in this decorative bottle so security won't question it." "What is it?" "It's a serum. It's not a cure... but... as insulin injections control diabetes, this serum can control Mulder's illness." "You know what's wrong with him." "Yes." "Tell me." All business now, Carlos folded his large strong hands and looked at Starkweather intensely. "Roughly about five years ago, Mulder was exposed to a substance called 'Purity' are you familiar with that term?" "I read the case files. 'Purity' or 'the black oil' is a biological substance believed to be extraterrestrial. It is believed to be an alien virus. It is believed that the black oil is a viral parasite, it attaches itself to a living host and when the body temperature is brought up high enough, normally caused by the fever the body produces in an effort to fight the infection, the virus begins to mutate into a living entity." "Yes and no." "Huh?" "Just as there is one human species, there are several different races, all with different appearances, but strip away the differences and they all have the basically same structure inside." "That is the hokiest analogy I've ever heard." Carlos grinned. "There are several strains of the black oil. Some, yes, like you described, are reproductive, such as what infected Agent Scully in 1998 via bee sting. Others simply take over your mind, making you mindless slaves. Others are just lethal." "What does Agent Mulder have?" "The reason why we have so many strains is that in the devil's deal that the Syndicate made with the Visitors is a sampling of the black oil. Presumably to implement a plan to begin a widespread infection of our world. However, the Syndicate double-crosed them, started their own experiments. Alien-human hybridization. Work on a vaccine to fight the black oil. They also created other strains of the black oil, primarily..." Carlos stopped, remembered whom he was talking to. "Okay, this is going to be way out in left field..." "Oh, and the other shit wasn't?" "... someone in the Syndicate was working as a double agent. While seeming to help them in their mission, he was assisting secret agencies within the government to stop the Syndicate and the Colonization. He brought them a sample of the black oil and the scientists... mutated the oil to begin work on a top secret genetics program, to create their own weapons against enemies, foreign, domestic and otherworldly." "Genetics program." "For total lack of better words, to create super soldiers." "Super soldiers??" Starkweather said flatly, disbelievingly. "Humans with no frailties. No weaknesses. To fight the colonization." Starkweather was silent for a moment. Then: "BUWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" "I told you it was in left field." "Left field??? It's not even in the damn ballpark and I fail to see how this has anything to do with Mulder, his sickness and this serum you have? And what's with controlling it? What about curing it? Agent Scully was cured." "Agent Scully was infected with a different strain of the virus," Carlos reminded her. "What I'm trying to tell you is that Mulder was infected with a weakened version of the 'super soldier' strain." "What?" Starkweather rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sa-" "Uh-uh-uh," Carlos pointed to the silver Crucifix hanging on the wall. "We're in church." "You expect me to believe this crap you're feeding me?" Starkweather said in contempt. "The guy is dying and all you have to offer me is a fairy tale? A bad science fiction movie that went straight to video. Give me a break. Better yet, give me some proof." "Proof? Okay. Remember your buddy, Billy Miles?" Starkweather was silent. "That's what I thought. Billy got the full blast of it." "But, if Mulder was exposed to it in 1997, what happened last year when he was abducted? Scully was under the impression that he was infected with whatever it was that's turning people into... Supah Soldiers," she said sarcastically. "We don't have anything conclusive of to what happened to Mulder last year for the simple fact is we don't know where the hell he was for most of it and he has refused to discuss his experiences with anyone. What we think happened is that he was experimented on, to find out the long-term effects of the weakened virus, then dumped in the field, left for dead. We don't think he was part of the Super Soldier program. We think that he was probably injected with the strain that just kills people. But we think the strain that was already in his system counteracted with the new strain introduced and it kept him alive. Barely. Until Scully put him on that anti-viral therapy, which did flush out the fatal strain out, but the original strain remained." "You THINK," Starkweather said. "You don't KNOW. And how am I supposed to know that the 'control' that you're holding, will even work?" "All he needs is 50 cc injected and he'll snap back immediately. That will leave the rest for you to study, experiment with," he dug in his pocket again, this time producing a CD. Starkweather took one look at the cover. "I hate Barbara Streistrand." "The disk inside has all the information about the serum. You can make your own when necessary. Whenever Mulder has an attack, or whenever his immune system seems to be flagging, he'll need an injection." He handed her the CD and perfume bottle. "Why are you doing this?" Starkweather asked suspiciously. "What interest does the CIA have in Mulder's health?" "We need him," Carlos said simply. Starkweather stared at him, not comprehending completely, and then it hit her. "Oh no," she said. "No. Lux, you can't. You can't ask him to join the CIA. He's got a family now, he's has a kid that's just a baby, you can't possibl-" "Jerilyn, we need him," Carlos said again. "No. You. Don't." She said firmly. "Yes we do." "WHY??" "Because..." Lux said. "Look, Bailey-girl, I'm about to give you a lot of intelligence info here, shit you shouldn't know about. Shit you can't breathe a word to anyone. Not to Mulder, to Scully, to that redneck Confederate flag-waving partner of yours or that uptight bloodsucker, excuse me, lawyer from the Great White North you married." "So sweet, so suave, so politically incorrect, why did I let you get away??" Starkweather folded her arms like Morticia Addams and glared at her old lover. "Oh, wait, I forgot... you left me." Lux ignored her comments. "Whoever came up with the Super Soldier plan was an idiot. It backfired. Big and bad." "This whole thing sounds idiotic." "Messing with genetics is always a bad idea. YOU of all people should realize that, especially after that nice little junket you took to La Isla Luna Blanca." "Yeah," Starkweather said darkly. "That was a party, lemme tell you." "You're right about the Super Soldier Plan. Whoever came up with it should be drawn and quartered. Created by stupid stupid stupid people who thought they were doing the right thing." Lux sighed. "It backfired for two reasons. One, because some crybaby ran to the Syndicate and ratted. So the Syndicate, under new management, of course," he said, referring the alien massacre of all the "old" Syndicate members, "told the Visitors so they came up with their own Super Soldiers to fight ours." "So," Starkweather said patronizingly. "There's Good Super Soldiers and Bad Super Soldiers. Uh-huh, okay. Sure. Hey, I know, how about we call the Power Rangers to fight the Bad Supah Soldiers." Lux grinned. The lady always called for what it was. "Believe me, I thought it was all a pack of crap too, until I saw for my own eyes." "Lux, I thought you stopped doing drugs. And you haven't told me shit. You asked me to remember Billy Miles. Okay, fine. I remember him. I also remember reading a case file. Knowles Rohrer. Used to be Doggett's friend. Until he tried to kill him. He was as invincible as Miles is. What the hell are they, Lux and don't you dare call them Super Soldiers or I'll take that Bible and shove it up where the sun don't shine. And where in this mishmash does Mulder fit in?" "I didn't tell you the second reason why the Program backfired." "Okay... why?" "Because, well, a lot of the... volunteers, were from the armed services and a lot of them didn't take too well to their transformations. Many of them started their own agendas." "Like Knowles Rohrer." "Exactly." "But what's his agenda?" "Our theory is that he's after Mulder and Scully's boy." "William? Why?" "Think about it. He was working pretty hard to make sure that kid wasn't born while the rest of the replicants were." "Replicants?" "Well, you said don't use the "S" word again," Lux smiled. "And I'd be walking funny with the Good Book crammed up my ass." "So replicants and Supah Soldiers are one in the same," Starkweather said. "My head hurts." "There's a war going on," Lux said seriously. "You're right," Starkweather snapped. "There is. Between the United States of American and Afghanistan. Does that ring any bells for you?? While the spooks at the CIA are busy chasing little green men-" "They're gray." "Whatever," Starkweather didn't even pause for breath. "We get the shit bombed out of us. By our own planes. I was THERE Lux. I saw **everything**. Okay? And you have the gall to sit there and tell me that the CIA is wasting time and money, chasing flying saucers. These rogue Supah Soldiers-" "I really wish you wouldn't say 'Supah'." Starkweather closed her eyes. "It's bullshit, Lux. Every word that just came out of your mouth is bullshit. The REAL truth is, you guys, in the CIA, don't know what the fuck's going on. And you want Mulder to chase after the Truth for you." Lux sighed and gave up. "Pretty much, yeah." "Why didn't you just say so?" "Why, you're in the X-Files now, babe. I thought long convoluted drawn out explanations that hardly make sense were required." "Come here," Starkweather beckoned him with her finger. "I'm gonna hit you. And if I find out that you motherfuckers have the actual cure and are using this control as a carrot-in-front-of-the-donkey thing to Mulder, I swear to God I will find you and break every bone in your body and leave you for the wolves." "We don't have the cure, I promise you." Lux said. "But take a wild guess who does." "The Syndicate." "Precisely. It's their bargaining chip. Their ace. Their "Get Out of Jail Free" card. Their-" "Enough with the Milton-Bradley references, I get it." "There is another way though," Lux said. "Another way?" "For the last year and a half, we've been trying to find a man named Jeremiah Smith. Only he's not a man, but-" "An alien," Starkweather rolled her eyes. "According to Mulder. He's a shiftshaper." "And a healer." "A healer?" "That's right. He was healing the 'rejects' found in Montana, late last year, the most notable being Teresa Hoesing. He would have gotten to Mulder-" "But he disappeared." "We believe that he was abducted. We also have reason to believe that he is here, somewhere in the United States, being held against his will. We need Mulder to find him. While we work on the vaccine against this black oil shit, we can at least rescue Jeremiah Smith and have him continue his work. Every person Jeremiah heals, is one less step towards colonization." "In the report, Agent Doggett documented and Agent Reyes signed off on it, that Teresa Hoesing has no memory of what happened to her and how she was healed. What proof do you have that Jeremiah's healing powers are real?" Lux Carlos looked at her sadly. He couldn't tell her that the proof was sitting straight across from him. He already told her too much and he knew she was going to tell Mulder, Scully and Doggett everything. Reyes too. Possibly Skinner. Not her husband though. So he decided to distract her. "I wish I could tell you more. I wish for so many things. I wish... I wish things could have been different." Starkweather, as he knew she would, rose to the bait. "Don't feed me that bullshit. You're the one who disappeared in the middle of the night. Without so much as a goodbye. You chose this life. I had nothing to do with it. And if you're still regretting 'this'," she held up her left hand and waggled her ring finger, the light glinted off of the diamond solitaire. "Too damn bad. There was nothing standing in the way of you asking me instead of Ben." "You would have said 'no'." "You'll never know for sure now, will you?" she said coldly. "You're not happy, Jerilyn. I said you shouldn't have married him." "After the fact, Lux. After I had already changed my last name. And excuse me if I'm not exactly Rainbow Brite right now, but the last few months have really sucked. And it's not getting better especially with you popping in dressed like a penguin, telling me that you guys are going to essentially bribe Mulder to join the CIA because you all are too inept to find the Truth by yourselves." "I'll be honest. We do want Mulder for selfish reasons. We can't see the damn forest from the trees. But there are altruistic reasons as well. If Mulder works for us, he'll have an opportunity not only to protect his son, but to save himself." "Lux Rico Carlos, you haven't changed a bit. You are still a smooth talking, arrogant, shit-talking son-of-a-bitch." "Hey, Bailey-girl," Lux said calmly. "at least I don't seek comfort from the crushing disappointment of my life in the platonic embrace of a Barney Fife-wannabe." Starkweather fumed. "So please do me a favor, Mrs. Starkweather and if you ever get brave enough to break your marriage vows, please call ME first, before him." Starkweather rose from her seat and hovered over him. "Bless me, Father," she seethed, "for I have sinned," and she caught him in the face with a left hook. There was the sickening sound of cheekbone breaking. Lux emitted a girlish squeal as Starkweather's wedding ring cut through his flesh. Stuffing the perfume bottle in her pocket and holding the CD jewel case in her right hand, wiped Lux's blood off of her other hand on her slicky pants before taking her leave.
Meanwhile... Ben had woken up shortly after Jerilyn had left. Yawning, he grabbed his sweatpants and slid them on. "Mornin' cat," he greeted the omnipotent cat that was stretched out across the hideabed. Scratching his head, he stumbled into the kitchen to brew a pot of strong coffee. He could think of ten thousand different ways he'd rather be spending his Thanksgiving. With cup of hot coffee in hand, he wandered back into the Admiral's still immaculate living room. Leaning against the doorway, Ben silently started to work on a plan of attack. The sooner the finished this sad task up, the sooner they could resume their lives. Ben laughed at himself bitterly before he even finished that thought. <<Resume our normal lives? Forget that. Jerilyn's married to the X-Files now. She had a chance to get out and she refused it. Granted, I probably wouldn't like New York any more than I liked DC when we first came here, and she would have been under Follmer the cocksucker again, but... she better not bitch ever again about the X-Files being like the Mafia and she can't get out because Skinner made her an offer and she flat out refused.>> Ben wandered out of the living room and into the small room that Jeremy had converted into a study. Whenever they had visited the Admiral, this had always been Ben's favorite room. The Admiral himself had built, sanded, polished and vanished the shelves himself and they were filled to the bursting point with book after books. Jerilyn may have inherited her off-the-charts intellect from the Mulders but she learned to love reading from the Baileys. Ben wiggled his toes in the decadently plush carpet and looked out the huge bay window the Admiral had also designed and put in. There was a small desk in the corner and a sinfully comfortable leather sofa in the corner. There were spider plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling, but after months of neglect, had withered, brown and ugly. Dust lightly covered everything. Other than the dust and the dead plants, Ben had always envisioned himself having a room similar to this when he was well established in a law practice. Ben looked up and down at all the books. Most looked well read. <<Jerilyn would probably want to keep these>> he thought pulling out a hard cover edition of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare." With a groan, Ben realized that his packrat of a wife would want to keep everything. For someone as tough as she was, if even the most insignificant seeming scrape of paper carried even the tiniest bit of sentimental value, she kept it. Granted, she was very anal about her keepsakes and for the most part put everything in storage. Problem was, they were running out of storage. <<Maybe now, we can get a house>> he thought as he opened the book. <<Although maybe now is not the time to be making major purchasing commitments such as a house or a car or... what the hell is this?>> thought Ben, after flipping through the first few pages, saw that the rest of the book had been hollowed out. It was one of those false-books he had heard about, thought only existed in film noir type mystery movies. Inside the false book, was a VHS cassette. The Admiral had seemed to be such a gentle old man, whose hobbies were puttering around in his garden, listening to his favorite sports teams on the radio and doting on his only daughter, Ben had a hard time believing that he had any ties to this Syndicate-thing Mulder and Jerilyn kept talking about. On the other hand, the Syndicate DID try and kill him last summer, so Ben was a little more convinced about the Syndicate's existence than most. The videotape unnerved him. There was no label, no writings, anything. <<What is so important on this?>> his legal mind began to click into gear <<that's worth hiding like this?>> His instincts were telling him that it had something to do with Jerilyn. <<What the hell did I marry into?>> he thought. <<Jeez, I thought she was just a nice girl... God. Won't this ever end??>> "Ben?" Ben slammed the book shut. "In here, hon," he called out, tucking the book under his arm. He came out of the study. She looked flushed. "Have a good run?" "S'okay," she muttered. "I'm gonna shower and then I'll make breakfast. Then I suppose we should start. What's that?" she looked at the book under his arm. "Oh, I was poking around in your dad's study," he said. "I was looking at this before you came in." Jerilyn looked at the book's binder. "He must have gotten that after I moved out. I don't remember it." She shrugged. She had more important things on her mind. Like hiding the perfume bottle full of serum in her pocket and the CD jewel case she had tucked in the back of her pants and pulled her shirt over. "I won't take long." "Alright," Ben said. When he heard the shower running, he grabbed his briefcase. Taking the tape out of the hollowed book, Ben looked it over one more time before putting it in his briefcase. He changed its combination lock. Caesar, eyes just a feral as his mistress's, hissed at him. "Oh shut up," he said to the cat, who continued to glare at him. "Great, I'm getting a guilt trip from my cat."
Monday, November 27, 2002 "Got-dammit!" Doggett cursed as oil splattered all over his shirt. He rested his head on the floor. "Okay... fuck this shit," he muttered. "Next time I needa oil change, I'm goin' to Jiffy Lube." He slid out from underneath his truck, feeling oil seeping through his shirt and down his chest. As he was reaching for a rag on his workbench, he heard the phone in his kitchen. Wiping his hands on his jeans instead, he hurried inside. Despite the quick clean up, he still got oily fingerprints all over the phone. "John Doggett," he said right before he literally peeled his shirt off. "You're either cleaning your gun or changing the oil in your truck." "'Morning Doc," he said warmly. "Hey Papa John." "How was Sedona?" "Interesting..." Starkweather, wearing her reading glasses, was in her butt-ugly green robe, sat at her computer desk with the cat on her lap. She had spent the last three hours studying the data Carlos had provided for her on the CD-ROM disk. "Very interesting." "What happened?" "What are you doing this afternoon?" "Me??" "No, my other 6'2" blond haired blue-eyed partner that talks funny." "Didn't really have any plans. Why?" "Can you meet me over at Scully's later?" Starkweather was now looking at the silvery fluid trapped inside the crystalline bottle Carlos had given her. "I need to tell you guys something. Is Reyes around?" "I dunno. I could call her if you'd like." "I think we better." "Did you find something at your father's?" "No... but someone found me." "Starkweather, you best start tellin' me what's going on." "Doggett, honestly. I'm not hiding anything. But I'm not a secured line right now." "That big, huh." "Yes, so let’s change subjects. How was Thanksgiving? Did you go to Savannah?" "No," A smile twitched at Doggett's face. "Actually, I ended up not going." "Oh really?" Starkweather feigned innocence. "So you spent Thanksgiving alone?" "No, amazingly enough, Agent Scully called me, just out of the blue and asked me to join her and Mul-duh and William." "Did she now?" Starkweather shook her head. "What a coincidence." "Wasn't it though?" Doggett said sweetly. Finally Starkweather snorted with laughter. "You are such a bad liar." "You are such an interfering pain in the ass." "But you adore me," she said arrogantly. "Now how do I respond to a remark like that," Doggett asked. "You don't. It was rhetorical." "Uh-huh." "See you at Scully's." "I'll be there with bells on." "Ding-ding," she said and hung up.
Scully's apartment Scully opened the door, "Doggett's already here," she told Starkweather as she let her in. "Is Mulder here?" "He is," Scully said. "And don't make fun of his speech, it sounds very slurred. It's a side effect of some of the medication he's on." "Oh come on, Scully, you know me." "I know I know you, Agent Starkweather, that's why I'm asking you." Starkweather grinned. "Fine. I'll be nice. For you, anyway." Starkweather looked at the pretty redhead before her, still in her work clothes, a severe black skirt worn with an iris blue blouse. Starkweather felt like a slob in her faded Levi’s and Old Navy Sweatshirt. "Scully-" she started but Scully held up her hand. "If I have one more person ask me if I'm okay, Agent Starkweather, I will scream," she said simply. "Duly noted," Starkweather said. "Come on, let's get this started. I wish to hell Reyes was here so I wouldn't have to explain twice, but oh well. Ready?" "Lead on, Agent Starkweather," Scully said and they entered the living room. Doggett was even dressed better than Starkweather, clad in new jeans and black sweater. He was leaning against a wall talking to Mulder, who sat in Scully's armchair. Starkweather was completely taken aback at her half-brother's appearance. He looked like hell. He was too thin and he looked exhausted. She noticed his hands were trembling. She fingered the pseudo-perfume bottle in her coat pocket. <<Please let this be for real and let this help him>> she thought as she sat down on the couch, facing Mulder. Doggett sat beside her, Scully, coming back out from the bedroom, sat by Mulder. "William's asleep still," she said, sitting on the armrest, putting her hand on Mulder's back. "So," Mulder said slowly. "Hurricane, what's up?" She looked at Scully and Mulder. "It's no coincidence that Skinner asked me if I knew a Lux Carlos, is it?" Before Mulder or Scully could say anything she went on. "I should have known better and I should have said something earlier, but I was so... distracted by... well, the case Doggett and I just wrapped up, plus I've got some personal issues going on, dealing with my dad's death and..." she thought about mentioning her dying marriage and decided against it. "I just had my head up my butt." "Attractive," Mulder said. Starkweather stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyway... Lux was an old boyfriend of mine. We met in the Air Force. He was an officer, I was enlisted... kind of the same deal as if I was a field agent dating an assistant director... it's just kind of frowned upon, you know? Anyway, blah blah blah. Fell in love, thought that he was "The One", whatever. Anyway, one morning, he's just gone. I couldn't explain it and no one could explain it to me. He was just gone." Starkweather bit her lip. It'd be one thing if she was explaining this to Doggett alone. Even Scully she'd feel more comfortable telling the uncomfortably personal story to, at least bits and pieces of it. But all three of them, staring at her like she was a fine actor performing Hamlet's "To Be Or Not To Be" soliloquy, unnerved her. "You guys don't... I can't... I don't know how to explain to any of you to have someone... just..." she gestured uselessly with her hands. "He was just gone," she repeated, lamely. "That's it. The military didn't know where he went. His family. Friends. Me. For all we knew he was dead. So, we all, you know, just picked up the pieces and went on. I retired from Active Duty to go to med school, started to work for the Guard, met Ben and..." she shrugged. "About six months after Ben and I had been in Minneapolis, Lux contacted me. He told me that he had been recruited by the CIA." "CIA?" Scully said. "I've got friends in the CIA," Doggett said. "And I've never heard of nobody called Lux Carlos." "He's very deep inside." Starkweather said. "Anyway, he had found out that I was married and a fed and he wanted to see me... needless to say," a small, evil smile tugged at her pouty lips, "I was less than cordial to him when I saw him." "You?" Mulder said, feigning shock. Doggett joined in. "No way." "Shock." "Surprise." "Dismay." "Oh this isn't fair," Starkweather said to Scully. "He can make fun of me but I can't of him?" Scully gave the men a flinty look and they shut up. "I'd like to hear more about this Lux Carlos, Agent Starkweather," she said quietly. "I never saw him again after that. Until last Friday. He was in Sedona. I doubt very much it was a coincidence." And she proceeded to tell them about their meeting in the confessional, although she did leave out the nasty suggestions he had made about her relationship to Doggett and how she had knocked his lights out. She also did not yet tell them about Lux's desire to recruit Mulder. After she finished her story, she said, "Well??" Doggett summed it up for all of them. "Wow." "Yeah." "So... this... serum," Mulder slurred. "Do you have it?"
Starkweather pulled the bottle out of her pocket. "Or so he says. Lux said it needs to be injected. 50 ccs." "Scully," Mulder turned to her, "do you have a syringe?" "Mulder no!" Scully cried. "We don't know what it's going to do to you. It could kill you or turn you into a vegetable or... or..." "Stawk - weddah," Doggett looked at her, frowning. "Do you trust this man? This Lux Carlos?" "Trust him? No. But he has interior motives. The CIA wants Mulder alive very very very very much." "What motives?" "I have a theory that the CIA is building their own version of the X-Files Division. And they want Mulder to lead it. Lux told me that they want Mulder to come work for them." The room was so still the sound of warm air blowing through the central heating vents in the apartment could be heard. Doggett broke the silence. "Oh my God." "What?" Scully asked. Doggett shook his head. "It makes sense now, don't you see? Why Knowles Rohrer was leadin' us astray? If what this Carlos guy told Starkweather is true, if the higher ups an' the invisible spooks wanted Mul-duh to work for them... Rohrer coulda been threatened 'cause instead of Mul-duh stickin' his nose in where it don't belong in the FBI-" Starkweather finished his sentence, "he'd be sticking it in the CIA. Oh boy," she crinkled her eyebrows in true horror as she imagined all the havoc Mulder could cause with the powers of the Central Intelligence Agency on his side. But that was brushed aside when another thought made its rude, unannounced entrance, "and if that Super Soldier bullshit is real, then it also would make perfect sense why Rohrer and Crane were trying so hard to get at William before he was even born." Speaking slowly so his words wouldn't slur so badly, Mulder turned to Scully "William has 100% immunity to the Black Oil, Scully. The aliens can't enslave him, like they can the rest of the population." "You guys realize," Doggett interjected, "that y'all sound like a bunch of Star Trek rejects?" "**I** didn't say anything about extraterristials," Starkweather pointed out. "But face it Doggett, your um.. "friend" -" she even made the annoying quotation signs with her fingers "Rohrer? Is a freak. A biogenetically engineered freak o' nature. Who tried to kill you. To get to Mulder and Scully. To get to that baby. Because of that kid's gene pool. And Scully," she turned to her friend, "I'm not trying to say bad things about Will. I love Boo. He's my buddy. But... Jesus, Scully, Mulder, whatever the hell Rohrer and Crane and Billy Miles and God only knows how many others... those **things** are after your son, I'm sure of it."
"So what am I supposed to do in the CIA?" Mulder said bitterly. "How is the CIA going to be any different from the FBI? How's me working for them going to protect my son?" "I don't know," Starkweather said. "I don't even know if Lux was telling me the truth. I was toying on heading over to Quantico later to start experimenting with this stuff," she shook the perfume vial. "Lux gave me a CD-ROM. It has the formula on how to make more. But Scully's right, we just can't shoot you up with this. It could be... liquid potassium for all we know." "What'd liquid potassium do?" Doggett asked. Scully answered, "Potassium overdose causes cardiac arrest. Since potassium is organic and humans do possess some potassium in their bodies, it is absorbed and unless you have a coroner who is looking for a needle mark, virtually undetectable." "That's scary," Doggett said. "Don't piss off doctors," Starkweather said with a grin. "We know 10,000 different ways to kill someone and 20,000 ways to get away with it." "Thank you Dr. Kevorkian," Mulder deadpanned. "I agree that we should test this serum," Scully said quietly. "But not at Quantico. Too many pieces of evidence from X-Files have either been tampered with or have simply disappeared from Quantico." "Where else do you suggest?" Starkweather said. "Give me a moment," Scully said. "I need to change my clothes and then make a phone call." Scully disappeared into her bedroom. She stripped off her suit and hung it neatly in her closet. She grabbed a pair of well-loved khakis slacks and a hunter green sweater. After dressing in the half-light of her room, she reached for her phone. Peering into William's crib, she dialed a number she vowed she would never call never again. "Dr. Waterston." She took a breath. "Daniel... this is Dana Scully." Scully came out fifteen minutes later. "We're going to Georgetown University," she told Starkweather flatly. "Now???" she said. "Um... okay... let me call Ben..." <<I'm sure he's going to be thrilled>> she thought but the strange look on Scully's face sucked out any desire to argue with her. She looked like she had just sold her soul to the devil. As Starkweather got up to use the phone in the kitchen, Scully asked Doggett, "Could you help me for a second? I need to get some of my medical research books down but it's up on my top shelf of my closet and I'm too short to reach them." "Um..." Doggett looked uncomfortably at Mulder before saying "Sure." "Scully," he said quietly once they were in Scully's bedroom. One, not to wake William and two, so Mulder couldn't hear, "Mulder's just as tall as I am and I feel damn weird being in here," he looked around at all the evidence of femininity here and there in the room. He was devoutly grateful that Scully was a neat freak and there were no bras or pantyhose or God knows what else just laying around." "Doggett," Scully said just as quietly. "I'm being discreet. I didn't want to ask Mulder because I don't want to hurt his feelings, but he is too weak to keep up after William right now. Could you please stay here with them until we come back? I honestly don't know how long we'll be. I doubt severely that we'll even have answers tonight." "Yeah, that's no problem. I don't care." "I'll leave a list. He should wake up pretty soon, have supper. Then we usually let him play until about seven-thirty or eight. Then we give him a bath and put him to bed at about eight-thirty. He usually wakes up again at ten, but goes back to sleep right away." "Scully," Doggett smiled at her, "Relax. I've dealt with babies before. I'm not completely ignorant." "Oh," the paranoid mother sighed. "Sorry. It's just that... with Jerilyn talking about those... things after William... and Mulder being so ill, it's just..." "Weird?" Doggett finished her sentence for her. She smiled. "Very." She squared her shoulders. "I still need you to get my books down though," she opened her closet door and pointed to the thick medical textbooks on the very top shelf. "Aw, damn, you weren't kiddin', were you?" he said, shoulders slumping at the sight of the enormous and probably very heavy books. Meanwhile, Mulder in the other room, was eavesdropping on his fiery little half-sister's conversation with her husband: "Ben... look... I... but... Jiminy Christmas, Ben... listen... Ben, I... are you done? Good. Because if you ever speak to me like that again, I am going to put my hand in your mouth and pull out your tongue... why are you having kittens about this anyway Ben? Yeah, I know... but this is important. I CAN'T tell you... Ben why can't you just trust me? Fine.... Sure... Whatthefuckever. Ben, I am so tired of this crap. I don't know what I did that you have to question every move I make and I'm getting to the point where I'm really going to stop caring... BEN. I'm going with SCULLY so what is your damn problem??? Ben, I don't have time for this... No, I don't have time for this bullshit, I called to let you know where I was, what I was doing and an estimated time when I was going to be home and you are acting like a total jackass. This conversation is over... No, this conversation is over. Goodbye... no I will talk to you tomorrow. Tonight we're done. No, we're done. Goodbye." Mulder pretended to be reading the newspaper when Starkweather came back into the living room. When she sat on the couch, Mulder started singing "Love and marriage, love and marriage," under his breath. "Eat shit and die." "Jerilyn, why don't you just file for divorce and get it over with?" Mulder said bluntly. "You're not happy. He's not happy." "Fox," Starkweather said smoothly, "why don't you just file for a marriage license and get it over with? You're happy. She's happy." "Force of habit," Mulder said with a devilish grin.
Starkweather looked up at him. "Precisely." "And don't call me Fox." "Don't call me Jerilyn." "Fine." "Fine." A crash came from Scully's bedroom. "OW!!! GOT-DAMMIT!" William woke up and began crying. "What the hell???" Starkweather said and bolted out of her seat. Slowly, Mulder got up and followed, his joints aching. Scully was lifting a wailing William out of his crib when Starkweather and Mulder entered the bedroom. Doggett was rubbing his head, surrounded by four or five medical textbooks. "What happened?" Starkweather asked as a smile tugged at her lips. Scully sighed. "Avalanche," she said as she conforted Will. Starkweather and Mulder snickered. Doggett glared at them. "I hate you guys," he grumbled as he stepped over the scattered books and made his way to the bathroom to find aspirin.
Later on that night... Starkweather shut her cell phone off. "I still can't get a hold of Reyes. I thought she was back." "So did I," Scully mused...
Meanwhile... Reyes took the huge sheets of soft creamy paper and soft crayons out of her briefcase. They had already been inspected by Dr. Nyman, who approved them. "I don't see how she could turn these into weapons," she said when she handed them back to Reyes. Like everyone else, it unnerved her how much she looked like Agent Starkweather. But now, after several rigorous session with Charlie, Reyes was starting to notice the differences, other than the hair and eye color. She had the same heart-shaped face, but not the pouty lips that Starkweather and Mulder shared. Reyes also noted that Charlie was just a little taller than Starkweather. And that Charlie's left hand had a double-jointed thumb, whereas Starkweather did not. Little differences. Which made Reyes wonder what was going on. Because the physical similarities were way too big to ignore. The voice. The eye shape, although not color. The nose. The skin tone. "Charlie," Reyes said as she opened the noisy metal food drawer at the bottom of the cell, "Charlie are you awake?" Charlie rolled over in her cot. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh." She said. "It's you again." She sat up. "What now?" "Have you ever heard of 'art therapy'?" she asked her pleasantly. "No." "Do you like to draw?" "Well... yeah," Charlie slid off her cot and crawled over to the food drawer. "Why?" Reyes pushed the drawer shut on her end so it would open on Charlie's. "I have some paper and crayons for you. I thought maybe you could draw some pictures for me." "Are you my kindergarten teacher now?" Charlie hissed at her, but she greedily dove for the paper and crayons. "No." Reyes said as she sat down in her folding chair again. "I just wanted to try something..." "Is this a test?" Charlie asked, panicking. "No test," Reyes said, making a mental note of how the level of Charlie's distress increased when she thought she was being tested. "Just draw whatever you like. Maybe drawing will help you relieve some of that.... nervous energy you have." "Are you gonna hang it on your fridge?" Charlie asked as she squatted down, seizing a red crayon. "No, but I'd like to see it and show it to Dr. Scully when you're done," Reyes said evenly as she glanced at her cell phone. Three missed calls. Doggett. Scully. Starkweather. Well, they'd have to wait.
Georgetown University Scully and Starkweather, both burdened under the weight of the medical research books, staggered towards the entrance of the Pharmacology Department. An older gentlemen was waiting for them. "Who's the old guy?" Starkweather huffed and puffed, remembering how much she hated toting all those damned books around campus when she was in med school. "A friend," Scully said shortly. "Dana," Dr. Waterston said warmly, approaching the window. "It's been too long." He leaned towards her, hesitated, then hugged her. <<Am I going nuts? Or was he going to kiss her????>> Starkweather thought with a frown. "I'm sorry I never did congratulate you on the birth of your son," he said, still looking at her sadly. "I'm very happy for you Dana. I always knew how important children were to you." "Daniel," Scully said stiffly, "this is my sister-in-law, Dr. Jerilyn Starkweather." <<Sister-in-law????? Since when!?!?!?!?!?>> Hopelessly confused but going with the flow, she extended her hand, "Nice to meet you." "Dr. Starkweather, and what branch of medicine do you practice?" he asked her. "I don't. I'm a federal agent, like Scul- Dana. I'm a forensics pathologist as well as a criminal profiler." Waterston looked at Scully. "You're rubbing off of people," he told her. After a hideously awkward pause, he said "Well, I know you have a lot of work that needs to be done, so let me show you what lab is available. Fortunately, most of the students are gone now for winter break," he let them in. "If you need ANYTHING," he told them once they were settled in the lab. Starkweather frowned at him. She thought there was a little too much emphasis on "anything" and it was directed at Scully. "Please call me," he handed Scully his business card, placed it in her hand and held her hand just a bit longer than to be considered to be friendly. Scully withdrew her hand. "Thank you, Daniel," she said coolly. He smiled and left quickly. Noticing Starkweather staring at her, she demanded "What?" "Nothing," she said way too quickly. <<Don't know what that was about, don't care, none of my business.>> she thought and wished there was a way to communicate those thoughts to Scully without getting her head chewed off. Scully, literally looked ill. "I lied to him," she said flatly. "I told him I was married." "Um..." Starkweather fumbled for an appropriate response, "Okay..." <<Jesus, THAT was intelligent>> she berated herself. "We have a past," she said bluntly. "And I didn't want him to think that there was even a ghost of a chance." "Okay..." Starkweather said again. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, Scully, you know that." The lines in her face relaxed. "Let's get to work," Scully said, taking out her notebook computer and flipping it on. "Okay," Starkweather said for the third time. "Here's the CD-ROM Lux gave me... let's check this bad boy out..."
Meanwhile... If for whatever reason, Scully or Starkweather had walked back into the apartment at that time, both women would have been reduced to mush. Both Doggett and Mulder were on the floor, playing trucks with William. The sight of Doggett and Mulder, both very tall men, on their hands and knees, pushing plastic toy trucks from Play-Skool would have sent Starkweather into gales of hysteria, but William's obvious pleasure of having two big people play with him made the scene would have also shut her up. Also, Mulder's obvious exhaustion would have moved even his hard-hearted sister to pity. He leaned against the chair and closed his eyes. William, who had just mastered crawling and was now attempting walking and talking, scooted over to Mulder, babbling excitedly. Doggett saw how tired Mulder looked but didn't say anything. Mainly because he didn't know what to say. "This sucks," the Oxford educated man spat out, frustrated. "If I'm not on the damn drugs, I'll have seizures. If I stay on them, I'm too tired to play with my own kid. And I talk like I'm drunk." "Well, Scully and Starkweather are working on it," Doggett told him. "Hopefully, whatever that stuff that Starkweather got from that Carlos guy, hopefully it checks out. And hopefully, it works." "Yeah..." Mulder responded lifelessly. William saw that Daddy wasn't feeling good. He whimpered. He hated it when Daddy was sick. Mulder rubbed William's fuzzy head, then kissed it. "Hey buddy, how 'bout you go with Uncle John for your bath?" "Da??" William said his first word. Mulder teared up. Doggett discreetly began to pick up William's toys with his back to him so Mulder could pull himself together. "Ready?" Doggett said afterwards, swinging William up in the air. William squealed. Mulder pulled himself up into the chair. "I think Scully laid out his pajamas," he said, bitterly jealous that Doggett had the strength to do the things for Will that he should be doing himself. "Yeah, she did," Doggett said. "You need anything?" "A new body?" "I'll get right on that," Doggett said as he carried William into the bathroom, bitterly jealous that it was another man's son he was caring for and not his own.
Georgetown University Scully came back into the lab, carrying two bottles of water she bought from the vending machine, only to find Starkweather with her head cradled in her arms in front of the computer and a microscope, breathing softly yet deeply. Putting down the bottles, she crossed over to Starkweather and gently tapped her on the shoulder, "Jerilyn?" Starkweather woke up with a gasp, "No!" Blinking herself back into reality, she looked at Scully in horror. "I did NOT just fall asleep, did I?" She buried her face in her hands. "Jesus, I'm sorry." "Are you still not sleeping at night?" Scully said, feeling another load sliding onto her small shoulders. Not only was she intensely worried about Mulder's health, but also she was afraid that neither Doggett nor Starkweather were dealing with what happened to them on September 11. She strongly suspected post-traumatic stress disorder. Neither one of them were sleeping worth a damn. During Thanksgiving, she noticed that Doggett was having trouble concentrating on parts of their conversation. And she noticed how Starkweather would jump at least a foot in the air if there was a sudden loud sound. Fear and anxiety. Irritability... well, that symptom really didn't count because Starkweather was always irritable. "No," she said bluntly. "Not without sleeping pills, but I hate taking them. I feel so zoned out when I do." She reached for her reading glasses nearby and in the process knocked over a huge stack of files filled with paperwork, X-rays and MRIs. "Oh piss," she griped as the papers and films fluttered to the ground. "I'm just about useless, aren't I?" "No," Scully said, "you have been hardly useless." The entire night, the two women worked together productively and quietly, appreciating the other's intelligence and integrity in the fields of science. And they were both coming to the conclusion that Lux Carlos may be telling the truth, that the serum could possibly help Mulder, but both agreed that it was far too early to tell, that more tests needed to be run before they had Mulder be a human guinea pig. Starkweather slid off her seat to pick up the mess she made while Scully said, "Maybe we should switch gears for a little bit. I never did update you on Charlie's progress." "I was under the impression that Charlie WASN'T progressing," she muttered. "Were these X-Rays in any order?" "Um... one set was Mulder's from his exam and the other was Charlie's." "Are you sure?" Starkweather asked. "Because they look..." she paused and peered at them. "Holy shit," she said, eyes widening, looking at an X-ray of one skull, then the other. "Oh my fucking God," she stood up, scattering papers again, but holding the X-rays. "What??" Scully said as Starkweather held them up to the lights. "Look," Starkweather nodded her head towards the first one. "This one is Mulder's. THIS," she nodded her head to the second one. "Is Charlie's. See the strange pattern on the first one?. Like a butterfly. Now, here, on the second one, same pattern, only-" "Only much worse..." Scully took the X-ray out of Starkweather's hands. "How could I have missed this???" "My God... Scully, is it possible? That Charlie has the same problem that Mulder has, only to a far more advanced stage?" Scully remembered, sickened, how Mulder, before the Syndicate took him away to perform that horrible surgery on him, had to be confined to an asylum because he was psychotic. How he had attacked Skinner, and yet planted a message on Skinner, a note, written in his own blood, on a scrap of cloth. <<Help me>> <<I am no one, I am no one>> "There's a person, a human being inside of Charlie," Starkweather said quietly. "Trying to get out. There has to be. Whoever these bastards are, who made these creatures... these replicant thingies... Lux is wrong. The government didn't make them first. Whoever has been abducting all those people did. Now whether it's extraterrestrial, which I still doubt, or a rogue band of scientists, similar to the assholes that experimented on the Jews during the Holocaust, which I think is more likely, is still up in the air. "But, my God, Scully. For almost sixty, maybe seventy years now, someone has been kidnapping people, injecting them with shit, just to see what would happened. To try to make them something more human than human-" Scully cringed at that phrase, but Starkweather didn't notice, "to make a biological weapon with all the flexibility and intricacies and creativities of the human mind but none of the physical flaws. There was no way in hell they were going to get enough volunteers to take part in such a massive undertaking, no matter how many crazy Marines they may have recruited into their organization. Plus they needed more than just strapping young men, they needed old men, women, little kids... "So they just started taking people. These motherfuckers took Samantha, took Sally Kendrick, took Teresa Hoesing and Billy Miles, took Teena Simmons and Cindy Reardon. Charlie, you, Mulder... and... maybe me... and used us as guinea pigs. To figure out how to make these... you know I really hate the phrase "Super Soldiers", it sounds so juvenile. Like they're third cousins to the Power Rangers or something." "Starkweather," Scully said, thinking of her boy at home. "You realize what you're saying is scaring me to death." "How do you think I feel," Starkweather said quietly. "Because of," she snorted "OUR contributions to THEIR project, whoever the bad guys are, they figured out how to manipulate our DNA structure to create a completely new species. Which they can also genetically engineer to bend to their will. And I hope to God I am wrong, Scully, please tell me I'm wrong because if I'm not, homo sapiens just went out of style." Scully's cell phone rang. "Scully?" "Scully, it's Reyes, where are you?" "I'm at Georgetown University with Starkweather." "I'm coming from Waldenbrooks. I need to talk to you, NOW," she said, holding Charlie's drawings in her hands.
Meanwhile... Doggett crept out of Scully's bedroom, only shutting the door part of the way. "Is he okay?" Mulder asked. "Yeah, he's fine," Doggett said, settling onto the couch again. "Need anything?" "Nah, I'm fine." Mulder said flipping through the channels. "Nine hundred channels and there's nothing on." "What, no Playboy?" Doggett ribbed him. Mulder's ears turned slightly pink. "Um... no... Scully put a parental code on the satellite dish... and she won't tell me what the code is." He paused at The Cartoon Network where a 'Pinky and The Brain' marathon was airing. One look at Doggett told him that show wasn't going to fly. He turned to HBO. "Ooh, 'Sex and the City.'" "You don't really watch that, do you?" "No," Mulder said too quickly as he hit the channel. "Have you seen this boy?" "I hate that movie," Doggett grumbled. Mulder grinned and made "Terminator 2: Judgement Day" go away, just as William began to cry again. "What is with him tonight?" Mulder asked as he started to get up, but Doggett already was on his feet. "I'll get 'em," he said. Doggett went back into the bedroom. "Hey, Boo, what's goin' on?" he said in a soft tender voice reserved for dogs and small children. "You're dry, you're not hungry, so what gives?" William only whimpered and held out his arms. "Now, hey, you're supposed to be sleepin'" Doggett told him while he was lifting him out of the crib. "Your mama's gonna have a fit when she finds out you're up so late," he carried him into the living room. "Looks like guys' night in is still goin' on," Doggett said as he deposited William onto Mulder's lap. "Well, look who's still up," Mulder said. "Wanna watch TV?" He handed William the remote. "What are we watching?" "'Saved by the Bell'" "Oh God... I always fantasized 'bout drop-kickin' Screech off a cliff." "Yeah, but then I always thought Kelly was hot, no son, don't chew on the remote." "Hey, wasn't that chick in 'Showgirls'?" "No, you're thinking of the tall ugly one." "Oh, Jessie," Doggett spied a squishy toy on the floor. He reached for it and tossed it to Mulder. "Here, let 'em have this 'stead of the remote." "He likes the remote," Mulder said, holding it up, showing off all the baby bite marks. "See?" "Don'cha worry about 'em gettin' to the batteries though?" "Doggett, you ever think about having more kids?" Mulder said, handing William the toy. William ignored the toy and whined as he reached for the remote Mulder held away from him. "You bein' a smartass or you bein' serious?" Doggett asked coolly. "Yes," Mulder replied dryly. He shrugged. "I dunno. I don't think so. My ex, well, she wanted more kids, but after we lost our boy, I just... it just didn't feel right. To me anyway. Anyway... water under the bridge. 'Bout you and Scully? Y'all think about havin' more kids or is Will gonna be it?" "Will's it whether we like it or not," Mulder said. "After things settled down... well, before Starkweather joined the X-Files and after I was assigned the Deputy Mayor post, Scully and I did talk about trying again... so we went to a fertility clinic to get everything checked out. My guys were okay, but Scully..." "Nothing?" "The doctors can't figure out how she got pregnant with William in the first place. She is still, medically speaking, barren." "So, how in the hell..." Doggett started to ask. "Exactly," Mulder said. "How," Mulder rested his cheek against William's fuzzy head. "How did this child come to be? Scully and I have gone around and around about it. I want the truth. But she's afraid the truth will jeopardize William's safety." "If Starkweather's right," Doggett said uneasily. "It already is." Mulder kissed the back of William's head. "God I hope she's wrong." He hit the remote control again. "Wonderful girl! Either I'm gonna kill her or I'm beginning to like her!" Doggett shook his head during Han Solo's infamous quote. "You know," Doggett said, "that line runs through my head almost everyday. I have no idea why," he quipped. Mulder smirked. "You've been hanging around me and Jerilyn too much. The sarcasm is beginning to rub off on you." And the men settled in to watch 'Star Wars' for probably the billionth time in their lives.
Back at Georgetown University... Starkweather stood by the glass door, watching for Reyes. When she saw her car pull up into the parking lot, Starkweather swung the door open and held it until Reyes, speed-smoking a Morley-Light, clutching her briefcase tightly, got to the building. "I thought you quit," Starkweather said as Reyes took one last drag and dropped the butt on the ground. "I quit quitting," she said as she ground the cigarette butt to smithereens with her boot heel. "Is Dana inside?" "Yes." Reyes and Starkweather found Scully pouring over the medical data, still muttering under her breath "How could I have missed this?" "Scully, Reyes is here." "Monica," Scully said, "look at this." As Reyes reviewed the data, Scully brought her up to speed on Starkweather's inadvertent findings. "I don't know why I didn't connect them," she concluded. "Dana, this is no time for blame or guilt. All of that will be assessed later." Both Starkweather and Scully saw that Reyes' normally gentle doe eyes were smoldering in a deep-seated rage. "Reyes, what happened?" Starkweather said. "We were getting no where with Charlie," Reyes said, opening her briefcase. "This morning, while researching alternative therapies, I came across art therapy." "I've heard of it," Starkweather said. "It's done wonders for traumatized children. Lets them express the emotions they are too young to completely comprehend, articulate and process." "Charlie is very childlike in some ways, her emotional development is very immature," Reyes went on, "Both Dr. Nyman and Dana concurred on that. So I contacted Dr. Nyman this afternoon and after much persuasion, she agreed to let me try." "Why the persuasion?" Starkweather asked. "Pencils, pens, paintbrushes, Magic Markers... all either sharp or blunt objects. We finally found some soft crayons," carefully, Reyes lifted the paper out of her briefcase. She laid it on the table. Scully's eyes widened. "Oh God..." Reyes looked at Starkweather. "Jerilyn, I know what this picture says to me. I know what I feel from this... but you're the profiler. What does this picture say to you?" Starkweather put her reading glasses on again. Stared at the picture for what seemed to Scully and Reyes forever. Starkweather closed her eyes. "The fox in the snare. Entrapment. Pain. Death. Obvious pun on Mulder's name. She said that Alex and Bravo discussed me in her presence. I am led to believe the Alex she is referring to is Alex Krycek. If Charlie knows about me, than she definitely knows about Mulder. The two foxes in the cage next to the snare? William and Scully. Again, symbolism entrapment. The caged foxes look afraid. They are waiting for their turn. The four skinned foxes hanging from the tree? I believe those are "the others" that Charlie alluded to in our interview. Our "sisters." One fox is escaping, just slipping the grasp from the creature wearing the foxfur coat. That fox... I think it's me. As for the creature, it is a stereotypical charactature of an extraterrestrial. What this picture, in my professional opinion, symbolizes is her intense fear of being nothing more than just having life ripped away to serve the needs of an omnipentent and ruthless entity." With her eyes still closed, she asked "Reyes, if all she had were crayons, where did she get the red paint to splatter all over it?" "It's not paint," Reyes said simply. Starkweather's eyes opened. "And you didn't notice?" Reyes held up her wrists, still bearing scars from her attack from Charlie. "She was so fast, Jerilyn. Plus with her being behind that glass. I couldn't stop her. All I could do was call for help. She's heavily sedated, in a straight-jacket, under suicide watch." Scully had listened to the entire speech in absolute horror while staring at the picture. She turned away suddenly. "Scully, you okay?" Starkweather asked. "Help me find a petri dish and a razor blade," she ordered them. "I want to test the serum." Reyes found a sterile dish and Starkweather produced a razor blade. Scully donned latex gloves and safety goggles and carefully scraped off drying flakes of Charlie's blood from the paper. After preparing the culture, she said to Starkweather, "Give me 5cc of the serum. And let's see what happens."
"If this works, Scully," Starkweather said. "We are going to make enough to help Charlie too." She grabbed a syringe and opened the vial Lux gave her. "That was never a question," Scully said. "Of course we'll help her." "Can we make more?" Reyes said. "The chemical formula's beauty is its simplicity," Starkweather said, handing Scully the syringe. "I mean, granted, this isn't something you can make with an at home chemistry set, but if you have access to prescription medications, which both Scully and I, being doctors, do... this shit is easier to brew than crystal meth." "Great analogy," Reyes mumbled as Scully painstakingly dripped the droplets of hope into the petri dish. "Please let this work, God," Scully prayed under her breath as she worked. "Please, God, let this work." Silently, Starkweather repeated Scully's prayer <<Please God, please let this work.>> She looked at Reyes, who smiled serenely at her and for once Starkweather didn't want to smack her. She smiled back, "Get ready for a long night Reyes, we don't know how long this will take."
Tuesday, November 28, 2001 Scully peered into the microscope, heart thudding. Reyes was standing guard at the lab door, gun out. Starkweather, after much convincing, was curled up on a mattress made of Reyes and Scully's coats, finally getting some much-needed sleep. Scully inhaled sharply. She looked up at Reyes and nodded her head. Reyes put her gun away and went to wake Starkweather. She shook her gently. "Jerilyn?" Starkweather bolted awake. "Did it work???"
Scully's apartment. Doggett and Mulder had fallen asleep in front of the television set. William was also sound asleep in the crook of Mulder's arm. Doggett's cell phone woke him up immediately. "John Doggett." "Doggett, it's me." "Doc, what's the word?" "Tell Mulder not to take any of his pain medication. Scully wants his system to be clean before we give him the serum." "It worked," Doggett closed his eyes in relief as he looked over at Mulder. "Yes, it worked. And it might work on Charlie." "Charlie?" "They have the same disorder, Doggett," Starkweather said looking over at Scully who was on her cell phone as well, arguing heatedly with Dr. Nyman. "Only Charlie's is far more advanced. Reyes is going to stay with Scully and Mulder, can... will you come with me to the hospital to see Charlie." "'Course I will," Doggett said gruffly. "When will you be back." "Soon as possible."
Later on that day... Scully's apartment Reyes had seen a lot of horrible things in her life, especially with her work in cults and ritual abuse. But nothing prepared her for the pain Mulder was obviously in. She hadn't seen him since that impromptu meeting in Skinner's office, when Skinner sent Doggett and Starkweather away to investigate the two hacker-girls and assigned the Charlie case to her and Scully. Without the drugs, the agony Mulder was in was glaringly apparent. He kept moaning about the loud ringing in his ears. His face was extremely pale and bathed in a cold sweat. He was trembling so much, Reyes was afraid he would have another convulsion. He complained of headache, of nausea and of hot flashes. And Scully just quietly bore it as she bathed his forehead with a cool compress and shut the blinds in her bedroom when his eyes began to ache from the bright light. And Reyes sensed Mulder's deep embarrassment; although she felt he had no reason to be ashamed. This affliction was not his fault. But she felt that he believed to be a burden to ones he loved and hated himself for it so she mainly stayed out of his sight and baby-sat Boo. <What a pretty child he is> she thought as she built a tower of blocks for him to knock over, fed him lunch and bundled him up in his snowsuit to take outside for awhile when Mulder was unable to muffle his groans of pain. "How much longer Scully," Mulder gasped out when Scully came back into the room after Reyes took William outside. He was to the point where he began to wish that he would die. Scully took out a syringe and a small bottle. "You don't," she took him as she filled the syringe. After tapping it to make sure there were no air bubbles, she took his arm. "Make a fist, Mulder," she said. "I need to hit a vein." Mulder complied and flinched when he felt the needle slide into his skin. Although the pinprick was nothing compared to the torturous pain he had been experiencing all morning. "Try and rest, Mulder," Scully said in a shaking voice. "I don't know how long this will take to start working." Mulder suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness overcome him. "Scull-" he started to say but couldn't even finish saying her name. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped into unconsciousness. Scully, alone, for the first time since this sickness descended upon them, started to sob as she watched Mulder's body relax for the first time in weeks.
Meanwhile... Dr. Nyman was ranting ahead of them as she led Doggett and Starkweather to Charlie's new cell. "This is highly irregular," she fumed as she reached for her keys. "Welcome to the X-Files," Starkweather mumbled. "As requested, she has been taken off of her meds and she's been stark raving mad." "And that's differing from how she was acting before how?" Starkweather asked rudely. "Doc," Doggett said warily. Dr. Nyman glared at Starkweather who folded her arms and stared at her impassively. "She's restrained and she has a bite-mask on, however, exercise EXTREME caution." "Yes ma'am," Doggett said politely. Starkweather said nothing, just waited for Dr. Nyman to unlock the door. When she swung the heavy door open, the heavy stench of human waste pummeled them. Starkweather and Doggett both actually had to turn away and cover their faces, gagging. Starkweather glowered at the doctor. "This is how you treat your patients?" "This is how patients get treated when they are highly unstable and extremely dangerous, to themselves and others and we can't medicate them," Dr. Nyman fired back. Starkweather entered the padded cell. Doggett followed. Charlie was laying on a twin bed that was bolted to the floor. Her wrists and legs were shackled in restraints. Thick bandages encircled the wrist she had bitten through to drip blood on the drawing she made for Reyes. She had on a "Hannibal Lector" mask, as so she wouldn't bite herself or others. Her clothing was stained. She was struggling fanatically against the restraints. "Charlie, it's me. Agent Starkweather." Charlie settled down at once. "Echo???" "Yes." "You came back." "I said I would." Starkweather licked her lips and willed herself not to throw up form the smell. She looked over at Doggett and saw that the tough Marine was turning green. <<I better make this fast>> "Charlie, why did you hurt yourself?" "PUH-LEASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE LEMME OUT!" she wailed. "I promise I won't do anything again. I'll do whatever you want me too. Just untie meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," her voice pitched up hysterically. Starkweather took a syringe and vial out of her coat pocket. "Charlie, listen to me, you know I promised to help you-" "You're gonna let me out?" "I'm going to give you a medicine that will help yo-" "NO!!! NO MORE! NO MORE SHOT!!! PUHLLLLLLLEASSSSSSSEE!!!" she screeched and twisted away from Starkweather as she approached her bed. "OH GOD, YOU'RE ALL THE SAME!! STAY AWAY!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!" "Charlie," Starkweather pleaded, "honey, please, it's to help you!" When Charlie refused to sit still, Starkweather looked up at Doggett. "Please help me," she begged him. Without a word, Doggett came over and held Charlie down, masterfully dodging his head whenever Charlie tried to headbutt him. Starkweather loaded up the syringe and held down her arm, "Goddamn it Charlie, come on," she said as Charlie continued to fight them. "Please chill out, honey, I'm trying to help you." Finally, Starkweather got the needle into her skin and pushed down the plunger. Almost instantaneously, Charlie's body ceased moving. Her head slumped to one side. Starkweather felt for a pulse. "She's only unconscious," she said in relief, biting her lip. "Let's go, we can have the hospital call us when she comes out of this." Doggett was only too glad to leave that claustrophobic room. Neither agent said a word as they walked out into the parking lot. "Where am I chauffeuring you to?" Doggett finally said when they reached his truck. "Back to Scully's?" "No, home. I need to get home." "Don't you have to pick up your car or anything?" "No, I took a cab over to Scully's. Ben would have a shit fit if I left him with no transportation." Starkweather wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, looking at the ground. "I just want to go home for a while and snuggle with my cat. Forget about this insanity for a couple of hours." She looked up at him. "What about you? What are you going to do?" "Me? Probably take a shower and crash." Doggett leaned against his truck. "This is some leave we're on." "No kidding," Starkweather said. "Maybe Skinner's right. Maybe this is too personal. Maybe I should step out, or at least step back." "I think he's right," Doggett said. "I know you were throwin' a hissy fit when Skinner assigned the case to Monica and Dana-" "I did *not* throw a hissy fit." "-but he's right. I woulda made the same call if I was AD." "You'd make a good AD," Starkweather said as she got into the truck. Doggett turned it on and let it run so it would get warm. "Yeah... well, we'll never find out now, will we?" he muttered. "Why not?" "Oh... 'cause... see, when... this is all way before you were re-assigned to the X-Files... when Mul-duh disappeared, I was assigned to the case by Kersh. So, not havin' a clue 'bout what the X-Files were 'bout and only knowin' Mul-duh and Scully by reputation, I bit into the case like a rabid dawg. I was determined to find him. That was my job. Or so I thought. Kersh never wanted me to find Mulder. He picked me 'cause I'm so rigid, so by the books so... what was it you called me one time? In Sioux City?" "Oh yeah, an empty suit." "Thank you. Anyway, he thought that when I figured out that Mulder's disappearance couldn't be solved by conventional means, I'd shut the investigation down and pretty much put the final nail in the X-Files coffin. No Mul-duh, no X-Files. He forgot to factor in Agent Scully and he forgot to factor in that, yeah, I'm a stickler for protocol, but... goddamn it," he said bitterly, "I was not gonna be a part of his agenda to bury Mulder before we even knew what happened to him. I was assigned to find him. The end. Period. Well, Kersh and I got into a pissin' contest and I ticked him off and he assigned me to the basement, permanently. And I gotta be honest, I was furious to be stuck in a dead-end position. But... well, got to know Agent Scully, started seeing all the weird shit that goes on, it... I don't know... it's interesting work, that's for sure. Then Mul-duh was found and those... things... Supah Soldiers-" "Don't call them that, it sounds retarded." "Or whatever. Those things came after Scully's baby, I found out that Kersh had a hand in it. So Reyes and I opened an investigation into his office. It's still ongoing. He's been reprimanded for his involvement when Ben was kidnapped but nothing big broken on him yet. God, I'd love to nail his ass to the wall." "But by going after him, you've pretty much flushed any hope of advancement down the toilet." Doggett nodded. "Pretty much." "I heard Skinner's still campaigning for you to take his place as AD when he retires." "Huh," Doggett said. "I'll believe it when it happens. Face it Hurricane," he told her. "You and I are going to be in the basement for a very long time." "I'm not the one complaining though," she replied quietly. Doggett, feeling like a chastised child, put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
Later on that day... Starkweather kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes in sheer relief. Her giant tabby cat wound himself around her legs. "Hey there, pusskins, 'sup?" she lifted the cat up. "Uff, okay, Caesar, you need to start working out. You're getting some chub on you." Caesar wriggled until she left go of him and stalked off to the armchair. Leaping into it, he curled his bushy tail around himself and glared at her. "Hey, don't be giving me dirty looks. You're fat, not fluffy. Sorry, dude," she said as she pulled her hair out of the ponytail and headed towards the bathroom. After a long hot shower and changing into clean clothes, she finally felt human again. With her long hair still damp, she, in a pair of Air Force issued sweat pants and an Aerosmith T-shirt she bought at a concert years and years ago, she curled up on the couch, pulling a quilt over her. Caesar forgot about his sulk and bounded off the chair and onto her. Before her eyes finally dropped off to sleep, Starkweather recounted the events that happened in the past few days. She thought about Lux. She remembered the last time she saw him before this. When he sought her out in Minneapolis... <<I don't want to think about that>> was her last coherent thought before she dropped off into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
March 28, 2000 As the soft snow fell in giant pieces of fluff from the skies, Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather stood on the stairs of the Minneapolis Federal Building, hands in coat pockets, shivering. She had decided she hated Minneapolis. Her mood was so sour and negative, she unable to find anything good about her current condition. Her partner was a card-carrying member of the 'Good Ol' Boys Club' and every opportunity he got, he made sure that she was aware that he was NOT happy about having a female as his partner. Which always made Starkweather feel really good when they had to go out into the field together. Her old boss, whom she really liked and admired, just elected to take Long Term Disability. Turns out he was dying from lung cancer. So the Bureau TDY'ed some oily prick who was glowing from his success on the war on drugs in California to her office. And she didn't get along with him any better than her partner. In fact, today he hauled her into his office to give her an off the records 'reprimand' for her language. Which she thought was totally unfair and let him know so. After all, her partner was the one telling all the "boys" about the hooker he had shagged the night before, so why was she in the wrong for telling him to keep his personal and private, personal and private? "Because, Agent Starkweather" her new boss had said in his oily, unctuous voice. "You ended your suggestion by calling him an... let's see... oh yes... 'worthless ignorant cocksucker', which was completely out of line, Agent..." <<Fuck you Follmer>> she seethed as she shivered, wishing her cab would hurry up. <<I wonder what it's like to have a boss that understands and a partner I could actually trust...>> She hated it that she didn't know her way around the city yet. She hated it that Ben bombed the bar exams and was working a crappy job as a go-far at a snooty law firm. She hated how damn COLD it was. She hated how she felt like she had no friends at her office, how she had no family to turn to, since her father was all the way in Phoenix, Ben's parents where snowbirds who spent most of their winters now in Texas and she'd rather eat broken glass than to talk to Ben's bitchy sister Mary Paula, who lived in St. Paul. She hated how pathetically lonely she felt. And she hated how she was almost ninety percent sure she was going to have a baby. She felt a wave of nausea pass over her and she hoped she wasn't going to throw up. <<I need this like a hole in my head>> she groaned to herself as she put a mittened hand to her mouth. "Agent Starkweather," a sotto voice to her right crooned to her. Starkweather looked down at a handsome man, with long dreadlocks, gold hoops in his ears, wire-rimmed glasses and a goatee. He was wearing a long black leather trench coat and had an aura of "I'm-too-cool-for-you." "Can I help you?" she asked rudely. She was not in the mood. The man laughed. "Damn, Bailey-girl, marriage hasn't changed you one bit." Then Starkweather recognized him and remembered him when he was clean-shaven from the top of his head to his chin. She remembered how good he looked in the dress blues of the Air Force uniform. "Lux?" she asked as she descended the steps towards him. "Is that you?" "I should be asking," Lux Carlos looked at her in her heavy black wool coat with a heavy white cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck, a birthday gift from Ben. He noted that her slacks were ironed to military perfection and her black penny loafers with the three-inch heel were shined to a high gloss, "if that's you. When did you decide to go blond?" his eyes traveled up to the severe knot of hair at the top of her head. "Gentlemen prefer blondes," she said blandly. "I was in town," he said. "I wanted to see you." "Well, you've seen me," she said tartly. "Goody for you." "And to apologize." "Apologize? You think you just waltzing into to town and saying 'I'm sorry' is going to make it all better?" "Jerilyn, I am trusting you right now, I am trusting you to believe me and to keep this to yourself," Lux approached her. "You have no idea how sorry I am that I left the way I did. Especially when I found out you got married. I kick myself every night. That should have been me walking you down the aisle. Not him." "Are you trying to make me barf?" "Sentimental not gonna work for you, is it?" "Has it ever?" Lux chuckled. "Still a hellcat, huh?" "Get on with it." "I fucked you over, I know, I am sorry. I just... Jesus, I wish you'd drop this Ice-Queen bit," he burst out as she continued to stare him down with dispassionate eyes, devoid of any emotion. "I'm trying to tell you that I was wrong. That I shouldn't have left you like I did. I should have called or left a note or something... but it was too dangerous. I didn't have a choice." "What bad movie are you living out?" "I was recruited by the CIA, Bailey-girl," he said seriously. "The CIA," she croaked out. "My superior leaked to them about my work in special-ops and they wanted me. They told me of a big project they're working on and they wanted me to be involved. But it depended on absolute secrecy. "But it meant vanishing from the face of the earth. No good-byes. No nothing. I was just, deleted. From everything." "What project are you alluding to?" "I can't tell you," Lux said. "Can't or won't." "Can't." Lux really looked sorrowful. Starkweather had no idea that she was indirectly involved in the project he was talking about. "But what I can tell you is this. Watch your step in the Bureau. There are rats everywhere who would love nothing more than to watch you fail, or even disappear. To become the next Fox Mulder, so to speak." "Spooky is dead," Starkweather snarled viciously, having no love for the man she had no clue was her a blood-relative. She did not know Agent Scully yet and William was three months away from his entrance to this world. So she had felt no remorse when she heard how Special Agent Mulder had been found murdered outside a ranchhouse in Montana where an UFO cult had been broken up. Cruelly, since she still hated him for his insensitive treatment of her adoptive mother, she thought it was an appropriate end for him. Mulder had berated her mother because he was told she had information about his sister. She did, but not the sister he thought. She had finally died of the brain cancer that slowly killed her for two years after his cruel interrogation. "So what are you implying? **I** certainly DO NOT chase after flying saucers or Yetis or Feejee mermaids." She had no idea that as she spoke, in a place where Spring had graced with her presence, her future boss and future partner where presiding over the exhuming of Mulder's remains. Only to discover there was a lot more of him remaining than scientifically possible. "Start talking Lux." "Just..." there was so much he wanted to tell her but couldn't. Starkweather could tell he was holding back and so glared at him. "Just watch your back. There are people in the Bureau who want to hold you back. Permanently even." "How do I even know you're telling me the truth?" she said angrily, livid at him for just invading her life when she finally gotten him out of her head and her heart and furious at herself when she felt the tears welling up. "And why should I care? Why should I give a damn, four years too late?" "Because I love you," he said with no theatrics, no soap-opera dramatics. Starkweather turned her head away as she felt the tears slide down her face. "I still love you and I hate it like hell you married somebody else. Because I miss you like hell. Everyday." Lip trembling, Starkweather told him as sternly as her quavering voice would allow, "Lux, you need to go." "Jerilyn-" "If what you're saying is true," she took deep breaths before continuing. "If what you're saying is for real and you're deep into the CIA... then you chose the CIA over me. And it's real nice that you still love me and you miss me," despite her efforts, she was sobbing freely now. She would blame it on the pregnancy hormones later, "but it's too little, too late." "I know," he said miserably. "I just wanted to see you." A cab pulled up. "That's for me," she said, pushing past him. "I have to go." "Why did you marry him, Jerilyn?" he called out. "You know it was a mistake." She froze in her tracks. The cabbie glared at her, cold and impatient. She signaled to him to wait. She stormed back to Lux. "Don't you fucking me dictate to me if I may or may not have made a mistake. And if Ben is a mistake, then he's my favorite mistake," she borrowed a line from a Sheryl Crow song. "You're going to be sorry you ever changed your name for him." "I like Starkweather," she told him defiantly and she turned on her heel and marched to the cab getting back in. Lux watched her cab pull away.
November 28, 2001 Scully was typing on her computer, documenting Reyes' foray into art therapy with Charlie while William was playing on the floor next to her chair. "Dammit," she said as she deleted another sentence that was completely grammatically incorrect. Her mind refused to stay focused. Part of her was obsessing over the sick, sleeping man in her bed, the other on the deranged woman they were trying to help plus she felt she was neglecting her maternal duties as she barely spent any time with William yesterday and again today. He was supposed to have his bath already and... "Da!" William squeaked out, pointing up. Scully looked up from her computer to see Mulder leaning against the doorway. "Mulder?" "Scully... I think... I think it worked," he said haltingly, the believer hardly daring to believe.
Meanwhile... Ben and Jerilyn's apartment Jerilyn, in the twilight time between awake and not, heard her husband's voice. "Yeah... she's here, but she's asleep..." "Who're you talking too?" Jerilyn stirred herself into wakefulness. "My mom," Ben said. "I gotta go, Mom. Love you too. Bye." "You didn't have to do that," Jerilyn said. "I would have like to say hello to Linda." "She was on her way out the door. She's helping out at some church dinner." "This late at night?" "Well, it's only six-thirty there. It doesn't start until seven." "Oh." "Jerilyn..." Ben paused, brushed a lock of errant blond hair out of her eyes. "Honey..." "What is it?" "Babe, we need to talk." "I'm right here. I'm awake." But then the phone rang. "Let it ring, Ben," Jerilyn said but Ben reached for it. "It might be Cello. We've got a jury in deliberation right now. Hello?" "Ben, hi, it's John Doggett, is Jerilyn there?" "She's right here," Ben frowned and handed the phone to her. "It's Doggett." He stood up and headed towards the front door. "Where are you going?" "To buy cigarettes," and he slammed the door. "Dammit," she said. She put the phone to her ear. "Doggett, your timing sucks." "I know, I'm sorry Doc, but we need to get to Waldenbrooks." "Why? What happened?" "Gotta call from Scully and then Dr. Nyman... Doc, it's damn miracle, what it is." "Come pick me up," she said, leaping off the couch, running to her bedroom to put on presentable clothes. "Ben took the car." "You guys really need to get a second vehicle..."
Waldenbrooks Dr. Nyman lead them back down to Charlie's original cellblock. "I don't know what you gave that woman," she said to Starkweather, "but the improvement... it's off the charts." They hurried down the cellblock to the end where Charlie had been returned. Starkweather and Doggett stared at the woman who sat on the floor, with her back to them. She was looking up at the tiny excuse of a window, high beyond her reach. Her clothes were freshly laundered and her hair, was shiny and clean. "Charlie?" Starkweather said hesitantly. "It's me." She turned around. The evil glint of madness had left her eyes. She looked calm, almost peaceful. Except the sheen of insanity had been replaced by a profound sorrow, similar to the dull look in a tiger's eye who had known life in the wild and was now forever confined to a tiny cage in a zoo. But still, she smiled. "Agent Starkweather," she replied. "How do you feel?" "Better," Charlie said, her smile widening just a bit now, but still not reaching her eyes. "The ringing in my ears have stopped." She looked at her bandaged wrist. "I feel much better now," she said as she touched the bandage, as if in awe that she had the capability to injure herself. In fact, she looked like she couldn't harm a fly. But there was the slight problem that she was accused of killing seven people. Granted two of the victims, the transient and the liquor store owner no one was really crying over. However, the law enforcement agencies wanted their pound of flesh for the two slain SWAT officers and for the Starkweather's neighbor, Officer Beth Johnson. And the other two, one was a helpless old lady and the other was a child.
<<Great, so she's normal now>> Starkweather thought. <<Now what? What's her defense going to be? 'Aliens took my brain'?>> Starkweather realized, stomach churning, that this pretty, quiet, calm woman, at most was looking at the death penalty and at least, life incarceration. <<Holy shit>> Starkweather closed her eyes. <<NOW what do we do?>>
Outside of Waldenbrooks "Didn't we just leave this party?" Starkweather mumbled as she and Doggett walked out into the Waldenbrooks parking lot for the second time that day, only now it was dark and snow flurries flew everywhere. Starkweather looked up at her partner. "What movie?" "Star Wars." "Character?" "Han Solo." "Very good." "Don't be so impressed, I watched the movie with Mul-duh last night." "What did Scully have to say when you talked to her?" "So far, so good. I mean, it's too soon to tell. Plus, if what Carlos told you was true, it's only a control." "He's going to depend on that medication for the rest of his life," Starkweather sighed. "Lesser of two evils, right?" "I guess. You're still afraid of a catch though, aren't ya?" "Aren't you?" "Yes," he said quietly as the wind picked up. Doggett shivered and wrapped his long black FBI regulation trench coat around himself tighter. Starkweather pulled the hood of her coat over her head and continued to walk to Doggett's truck in silence as a bitter snow began to fall. Starkweather's cell phone rang. "Hello?" "Jerilyn, it's me, where are you?" "Leaving the hospital, why? Where are you?" "I ended up going to Cello's after all but I'm going to stay here. The roads are incredibly slick." "Oh, okay." Starkweather frowned. "Did you want to talk still?" "Tomorrow. I don't wanna talk over the phone." "Ben, are you alright?" "Yeah... well, no... I... Jeri, hon, I'll talk to you tomorrow." "Okay... see you tomorrow then." "Bye." Ben hung up the phone and looked out his apartment window. Caesar wound around his legs. He sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette and opened his briefcase. He took out the manila envelope he was opening when Skinner had called him to let him know that Starkweather and Doggett were going out in the field. "Yeah, we've got a lot to talk about," he said aloud. Caesar meowed. "I wonder who gets to keep you in the divorce settlement," he reached to stroke the cat's head. He then pulled out the videotape that he found at the Admiral's. The lawfirm had been keeping him fairly busy so he hadn't had a chance to view it. And he wouldn't tonight yet. He put the tape and envelope back in his briefcase and shut it with a snap. His cell rang. "Hello? Yeah... I'll be there in a bit. Yeah... I know it's slick. I'll be careful."
Meanwhile... "Jesus," Doggett swore as he maneuvered his truck. "I can hardly see." The snow was coming down in icy bullets now. Starkweather looked out her window. "Wow, Ben wasn't kidding. Oh well, if someone gets in our way, you can just run over them, Monster Truck style." "Ha," Doggett said, concentrating on the road. "Doggett, what do you think is going to happen to Charlie?" "I dunno. We should probably get her lawyered up. But... God, she killed seven people. And Dr. Nyman said, and Scully concurred, that she knew the difference between right and wrong. She just didn't care." "But she was insane. That wasn't her fault. She had a mental disorder that beyond her control. We can control it now." "Yeah, but Doc, there's no way in hell she'll ever walk free. If she pleads insanity, they're going to lock her up in Waldenbrooks forever." "If she doesn't plead insanity, she'll get the gas chamber or life inprisonme- JESUS CHRIST LOOK OUT!" A Ford Windstar, unable to stop, slid right through the stoplight. And Doggett couldn't stop in time either.
Intersection of K and 19th Street "God, my insurance premium is going to skyrocket," Doggett bitched as they waited for the tow trucks to arrive. The police had come only twenty minutes earlier and had already taken Doggett and Starkweather's statements. They were now talking to the woman who was driving way too fast in a blizzard. Fortunately, no one had been hurt but the minivan was totaled when he t-boned it. Doggett's front end was completely mangled and a tire blew out in the process. "At least nobody got hurt," she reminded him as she sat on hold for the third time with another cab company. "Hello? Hi, I need... what do you mean you aren't going... look, we need some help, we got into a car wreck and... why you.. listen you heartless motherfucker, I don't give a rat's ass how-" She turned to Doggett, huge frown on her face. "They hung up on me." "Imagine that," Doggett said dryly. "Did you try Reyes?" "No answer. And I don't want to call Mulder and Scully. They deserve at least one night of peace." "Agreed, but where does that leave us?" Doggett noticed she was shivering. "Here," he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her. "You're freezing." "Great, so now I can treat you for hypothermia," she drawled. "And Ben's stuck at Cello's." "Where does Cello live?" "Somewhere in Falls Church." "Oh great." The police officer tapped on Doggett's window. When he rolled it down, the officer said. "The tow truck's are here, Agent Doggett. Do you need a ride?" "Yeah, can they take me to Falls Church and Agent Starkweather to 3776 Pennsylvania?" "Calvin Coolidge Apartments," she told the cop. "Probably not. With the weather so bad, they'll probably only take your vehicle to their shop." "Great, so what are we supposed to do?" Starkweather snapped. The cop sighed. "Look, there's a motel a few blocks away, I wish I could take you all the way to your homes but we've got two more accidents to check in on. I can drop you off there." "Oh, Ben is gonna LOVE this," Starkweather grumbled
Star Dust Sleep Inn "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ONLY HAVE ONE ROOM!!!" Starkweather shrieked at the poor bespectacled night desk clerk standing there in dirty black slacks that have seen better days and a maroon sweater that desperately needed to be washed. To make it worse, he spoke very.... very.. very... slow. "I ... mean, there's... only... one ... room left, ma'am," he droned. Starkweather turned to Doggett, whispering "Please let me shoot him." "Doc, unless we wanna rustle up cardboard boxes and sleep with the winos, we ain't gotta choice." The wind was positively howling now. The windows rattled. "We'll take it," Starkweather said with gritted teeth as she handed over her credit card. Painstakingly slow, he swiped the card. "Oh... darn... it didn't... take. Have to... do it... over." Doggett took out his wallet and handed him sixty dollars. "Here." "Let... me... get... your... change..." "Keep it!" Doggett and Starkweather fairly yelled at him. "Oh... okay... here's... your... key..." and just as Doggett accepted the key from the night desk clerk, the lights went out. "Oh... darn..." "Well, this night keeps getting better and better." "Starkweather, I hope that was your foot touchin' mine." "No... wasn't me... why?" "Either a very small rat or a very large roach just crawled over my shoe." "You know, sharing a cardboard box with a wino doesn't seem so bad right now..." The bumbling night clerk managed to rustle up some candles for Doggett and Starkweather, "... but... I... got... no... matches." "We'll rub two sticks together," Starkweather told him as they blindly left the front desk area and back outside in the bitter cold. The snow was not letting up. Doggett grabbed her elbow, "Careful, it's slick," he said. "God, this weather is horrible," Starkweather said as they slowly crept towards Room 242 of the Roach Motel. "Figures. We get two weeks leave and the weather goes to-" she stopped dead in her tracks. "What is it?" Doggett asked her as she pushed him away and ran into the parking lot. She slipped on the ice but picked herself up again and ran towards one of the cars in the parking lot. Doggett followed her. He slid on the icy pavement, but he caught himself before he wiped out. "What is it?" he repeated himself. Starkweather, with a shaking hand, pointed at the car. "I think that's our car." "What??" "I really think... That's Ben and my car. It's... the bumper is dented on the right side just like ours is... oh my God... he told me... he told me he was at Cello's." "Starkweather..." Doggett sensed meltdown and gently grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to turn to look at him. "No offense, but you drive a crappy white Dodge Dynasty. Those cars are everywhere." "Doggett," she said in a hoarse voice, "wipe away the snow from the license plate. If the plate says KAM1978, it's our car." "Okay," he said, to humor her. "Okay..." he crouched down and did as she asked. "Oh God..." he said. "Well??" Doggett stood up and let her look for herself. Starkweather felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She looked up at Doggett. "Told you so." "What..." Doggett paused, wondered if he really wanted to open this Pandora's box, then realized he had no choice. "Whaddya think he's doin' here?" With her head bowed, she whispered, "We've... got...hourly... rates... available, vibrating... beds, and free... H... B... O," she turned away from him and started walking back to the motel, shielding her face from the unforgiving snow. "Stawk - weddah," Doggett called after her. "What are you doin'?" "I'm gonna kill him," she announced ominously. "What, you gonna knock on every door here? Come on, Doc, use your head." Doggett pleaded with her. "Let's get out of this damn cold. And think this through. This is... circumstantial evidence. Compellin' yes, but not enough to be damning." "Why are you defending him?" she demanded. "I dunno," he admitted. "But this is stupid. Standin' outside like this. Let's go inside." When she refused to move, he pleaded, "Please Doc, c'mon," he shamelessly played on her sympathy. "I'm freezin'." "Okay," she relented. Protectively he put he arm around her tiny shoulders and he guided her to their crappy room. Even in the dark, Doggett sensed what a hellhole they were staying in. Pulling his mini Mag-Lite flashlight out of his pocket, he maneuvered until he found the small nightstand that had the Bible and books of matches in the drawer. As Starkweather sat down on the bed, Doggett lit the candles the desk clerk gave them and then sat across from him on the other bed. By the glow of the candlelight, Starkweather pulled out her cellphone and dialed. "Hello?" "Stephen? Sorry to bother you so late, I was just looking for Ben." "Ben? Sorry honey, he's not here," Cello's voice sounded strangely strangled. "Do you know where he is?" she asked evenly. "I was in a car accident tonight and just wanted to let him know I'm okay." "I don't know where he is, sorry," he said in that same strange voice. "Okay, Stephen, sorry to have bothered you," she said in the same bland voice. "Bye, Jeri," Stephen said. When he hung up the phone, he pursed his lips. "Goddamn you Ben, I told you this was going to come back to bite you in the ass." Meanwhile back at the motel, Starkweather dialed Ben's cell phone. "This is Benjamin Starkweather, please leave a message at the beep." Starkweather hung up without leaving a message. She looked up at him, her strange Mulder eyes deepening into a brown so dark, it was almost black. "This has been a banner day," she said miserably, still shivering from the chill. "Can we turn the heat on? I'm cold." "Honey, the power's out. There is no heat." "Wonderful." Doggett stood up and stripped off the thin comforter from the bed he was sitting on. He wrapped it around Starkweather, then sat beside her. "Better?" "No," she whimpered, trying her damnest not to cry. He put his arms around her and she leaned into him. Doggett rested his head on top of hers. "Hang in there, Doc. We don't know for sure what he's doing. Don't leap to conclusions yet." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay." "Okay." He kissed her forehead and turned away from her to lay down on the other bed. As he set his phone, Starkweather said "Hey, Papa John?" "Yeah?" "Call me 'honey' again and I'll deck you." "Duly noted," Doggett said with a grin. "Good night, Mrs. Starkweather." "Good night," Starkweather tossed him back the comforter from his bed and curled up under the covers of her own bed. She didn't want Doggett calling her by Ben's pet name for her.
Star Dust Sleep Inn Doggett sat up in his bed, looking out the window, waiting for the sun to rise. The power had come on later on during the night but even so, the amount of heat the register was producing was sad. Still, despite the chill, he had taken off his suit jacket, undid his dress blouse, pulled off his tie and kicked off his shoes, clad now only in a white T-shirt, slacks and socks. He hated suits. He looked over at Starkweather, his eyes bloodshot with fatigue. She had fallen asleep almost immediately, but she was still shivering with cold, so he had put his comforter back over her, then his long trenchcoat. All night she had remained curled up tightly in the fetal position, her eyebrows scrunched together in distress, even in sleep. <<At least she can sleep>> Doggett thought enviously, even though he knew her sleep was not restful. Still, he wished he was able to close his eyes at night and not relive September 11. New York was slowly evolving into a memory worse than Lebanon. He pulled up his shirtsleeve and looked at the tattoo on his upper arm "We will never forget"... he sighed and leaned his head on the headboard. He wished he could forget. What a blessing it would be, to not have a memory for one day... Movement outside caught his eyes. Despite his height, Doggett could move as stealthily as a marauding wolf. He slid off the bed and crept over to the window and peered through a crack between the shades. Benjamin Starkweather, in long wool dress coat, was pulling on his leather gloves, walking out to his car. <<What the hell are you up to, you little bastard>> Doggett frowned. He looked over at his sleeping partner and debated about slipping on his shoes and coat then running outside to have a friendly "chat" with Mr. Starkweather. He looked down at Mrs. Starkweather and sighed. He knew exactly what her reaction would be. "Doggett... stay out of it." And so he did <<But if I see some slut leavin' the hotel after him, I don't give a shit, I'm gonna beat his ass>> he thought, still watching Ben. No one followed Ben out. But Ben stood there, with a puzzled look on his face, staring at his car, thinking <<God, Jerilyn's rubbing off of me>> he thought as he looked at the footprints around the car. Plus, all the other cars were covered with snow. But the license plate from his had been wiped clean. He looked out at the motel, saw nothing. He got into his car, started it, had a cigarette as he waited for it to warm up. Then he drove off. Doggett sat back down on the bed and rubbed his hand over his face. His entire body ached with exhaustion. But he didn't want to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, Starkweather's eyes opened without the assistance of Doggett's alarm on his cell phone. She normally was up at five-thirty for her morning run anyway. She lifted her head and saw her partner sitting on the bed, head bent, hands clutching the sheets, eyes closed. "Doggett?" His head swiveled towards her. "Yeah?" She sat up, noticing the other comforter and coat on top of her. "How did you sleep without any blankets?" she asked him accusingly. When he shrugged, she sighed. "You need to stop doing this to yourself. You're going to crash and burn." "Excuse me?" Doggett asked with a small grin. "Looks who's talkin'." "Dr. Starkweather is talking, that's who," she said seriously. "Why did you feed me a bullshit story about going to Savannah for Thanksgiving?" "Ah.. well," Doggett said. "Didn't want you worryin', 's'all." She snorted. "Remember, I'm an anal-retentive, neurotic-compulsive skeptical converted Catholic. Worrying is something I do VERY well." "You have enough on your plate without bein' concerned 'bout me," he reminded her. She stood up and crossed over to him. She hovered over him. "Lie to me again to spare my feelings and I'll kick your ass." "What'd you expect? Be like Mul-duh and tell the truth?" Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Okay, you're allowed to sugarcoat it. A concept Mulder has yet to grasp. Let's get out of here, I have a husband to castrate... unless he's still here..." "No, he left. I watched him leave," Doggett said quietly. "He left alone," he answered the question in her witch-hazel eyes. "Thought about steppin' out to have a word with him, but didn't think you'd appreciate me butting in." "Wow, you can teach an old Doggett new tricks." "I am not old," he complained. "You are compared to me." "You're not THAT much younger." "You're right... when you're fifty... I'll be thirty-eight." "You are such a brat."
Ben and Jerilyn's apartment The cab pulled up slowly in front of her apartment building. The sky still overcast so the snow appeared to be chalky instead of sparkly. Everything was in a gray area now. "Thirty dolla'," the cab driver drawled. Before Starkweather could take out her wallet, Doggett already handed the driver two twenties. "Oh come on," Starkweather bitched. "Enough with the chivalry. You paid for the room last night." "Yeah, but you're payin' for beers next time we go out with Mul-duh and Scully," he informed her. "I better bring my platinum card," she opened the car door. "Get some sleep, Papa John." "Yes ma'am." "Talk to you later," she got out and walked towards her apartment. "Where to now sir?" the cab driver asked but Doggett just sat there silently, watching her walk away. "Sir? Sir, where to now?" Still watching Starkweather, walking further and further away from him, he said in a faint voice. "Falls Church." Starkweather, at the doorway to her apartment, turned just in time to watch the cab pull away. She stood there, in a rare moment of indecision, biting her lower lip. She shook her head, squared her shoulders and went inside..."
Ben and Jerilyn's apartment Jerilyn let herself in to find Ben walking out of the bedroom, fully dressed, carrying a suitcase. "Hi," she said, eyeing the bag dispassionately. "Hi," he said. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked evenly, as if she was questioning a suspect. "I'm going out to San Diego." "For how long?" "A week." "What for?" "A case Cello and I are working on," he said. "And you couldn't tell me this over the phone?" Ben closed his eyes. "Jerilyn..." She raised her eyebrows. "What?" "I need some space." "Oh." "It's... it's not like that... it's just..." Ben sighed, closing his eyes, shaking his head. "I feel... strangled." "I see." Ben, expecting fire and brimstone, was unsure how to handle the sudden cold front. "I just... need time." "Time. Hm." She pursed her lips together and nodded. "Jerilyn, there is so much going on right now... with you. You and Mulder. You and that thing in lock-up-" "Her name is Charlie and she's not in lock-up, she's in a psychiatric hospital because she had a mental affliction that is beyond her control." "Fine. Whatever," Ben spat out. "Mulder. Charlie. Little William. Scully. Doggett," he said the final name venomously. "You so overwhelmed with their problems, their lives, that their problems and lives have become yours. And I need to figure out where I fit in." Jerilyn tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Fit in?" she said softly. "As if the ring on your finger isn't a clue where you fit on?" "The ring on *your* finger sure hasn't been working for you," Ben countered angrily. Jerilyn folded her arms. "What are you implying?" Ben looked at his briefcase. "That I'll see you in a week." He crossed over and grabbed the briefcase and stormed past her towards the door. As he passed Caesar, the cat bristled and hissed at him. "Good kitty," Jerilyn muttered under her breath. Out loud she said to Ben, "You think a week apart is going to solve anything? Especially when I go back to work on December 5?" Ben paused, turned around and looked at her sullenly. "You're married to J. Edgar Hoover not me," he said, embittered. "Maybe you'll be faithful to him." Before Jerilyn could respond, he had left, slamming the door so hard on of the pictures on the wall fell off. Lips pursed together, Starkweather slid her wedding ring off as Caesar rubbed against her ankles.
December 5, 2001 Mulder yawned as he switched off his computer. As much as his position as Deputy Mayor bored him, after his prolonged illness, it did feel good to get back into the swing of things. He opened his planner and skimmed through the list of errands he needed to run after work. Picking up his dry-cleaning. Dropping off some extremely overdue videos at Blockbuster. Stop at the store and pick up some laundry detergent, he was completely out and Scully was going to hang him if he continued to bring his dirty clothes over to her apartment. Granted, he did his own laundry, he wasn't foolish enough to think that she would actually do his laundry for him. It was just that he kept forgetting to do it and so his laundry pile in the corner of Scully's room had been slowly increasing. If he hurried, maybe he could squeeze in a quick bit of Christmas shopping for Scully. He punched the intercom button. "Bunny," he said, "I'm out of here for the day." "Ooooooo, okay Foxy," she said in her irritating breathy voice. "And I just wanna say how HAPPY I am that you aren't sick anymore and that you're back to work." "Bunny," Mulder deadpanned. "I've been back for over a week now." "Oh, well you know how I lose track of time." Mulder hung up on Bunny and dialed a very familiar number. "Scully." "Hey, Scully, it's me." Scully was at her desk in "the dungeon" when Mulder had called. His voice was a welcome distraction from her paperwork... and from Doggett and Starkweather's incessant bickering: "You are so wrong." "How'm I wrong?" "Because cats can be VERY loyal." "Bullshit." "Caesar is VERY loyal to me." "Caesar is pure evil. Damn thing tried to bite me the last time I was over." "He was being protective. All a dog would do really, is drool on a stranger since most domesticated breeds are trained not to attack. Excluding police dogs and guard dogs, but then, they're trained to kill and aren't truly pets at all." "And a cat is a pet? Ask me, only good cat is a dead cat." "You dog people..." Scully shot both Doggett and Starkweather dirty looks, but they were ignoring her, each one glued to their computers, trying to catch up on paperwork as they sniped at each other. It did not miss Scully's eye that Starkweather was no longer wearing her wedding ring, but she said nothing, it was none of her business. "Mulder, what's going on?" "Just that I'm leaving early so I'll pick up William from the daycare. I've got some running around to do, but it shouldn't take too long." "Oh, alright," Scully said. "Just make sure he's bundled up. It's cold out." "And I was thinking about just wrapping him up in toilet paper and calling it good." "Ha." "See you in a bit," and Mulder hung up. Meanwhile, the bickering went on... "Now a dog is obedient. Since when has that damn furball done anything that you tell it too?" "Dogs are only obedient because all the spirit has been beaten out of them." "You don't BEAT a dog to train it!" "Okay, then they're just that stupid." "They ain't stupid either." "Then explain to me why dogs are just as obedient to a good person as they are a bad person whereas a cat is has a mind of their own.." "Oh for... Doc, this isn't a philosophical debate. This is about what's a better pet and a dog..." "I'm going home," Scully announced loudly, irately. Doggett and Starkweather, startled, looked up at her. "Ummm... okay..." Starkweather said, bewildered. "'Night..." "Good night agents," she said, with a sigh. She walked out, wondering (and not for the first time) <<Did Mulder and I annoy people just as much as they were me????>> She couldn't help but wonder again about the absent wedding ring, but pushed the thought out of her mind. It was really none of her business. "Wow," Starkweather said when she was positive Scully was out of earshot, "what crawled up her ass and died?" "Beats me," Doggett said, nonplussed. "How do you spell 'quintessential'?" "Q-U-I-N-T-E-S-S-E-N-T-I-A-L," she rattled off without pausing to think once. "You sure?" he asked doubtfully as he wrote it down. "That don't look right." "It's right," the human dictionary sighed, "trust me." Her phone rang. "Starkweather," she said crisply which was followed by a very emotionless "Oh hi." Doggett tried to make himself deaf. He would have left the room, but he had to finish this case report tonight. "I'm fine... working... uh-huh... how was San Diego... uh-huh... yeah... sure... what time is your flight coming in?" Meanwhile, at O'Hare Airport, Ben rang his fingers through his hair, "We had to make a pit stop in Chicago. We're going to be stuck here for at least two hours, maybe longer," he said with a sigh, wishing he could smoke without having to go inside of those tiny glass cancer rooms found at airports. "The weather is absolutely shitty here." "Oh." Ben frowned <<Something's up>> he thought, worried. Jerilyn was not the cool, silent-treatment type. She preferred exploding and completely expelling all the rage from her system. Or so he thought. Stomach turning, he dimly realized that he did not know her as completely as he thought he did, that even after two and a half, almost three years of marriage, she was just as much as an enigma as she was when he first met her. Perhaps even more now than ever. "You okay, Jeri?" "Not really. Are you going to call when your flight gets in?" "No, I'll just get a cab." <<She knows>> Ben felt his stomach clench tighter. "I'll talk to you later, hon." "Okay." "Bye." "Bye," and she hung up, turning back to her computer while Doggett was steadfastly pretending he didn't hear a word. Meanwhile, Ben walked back to where his friend Steve Cello was sitting. Cello looked over his dog-eared copy of "Les Miserables" at Ben sternly. "I told you she figured it out," Cello said sharply and before Ben could say anything else, he added tartly: "Two wrongs never make a right, my friend. And I'm not covering up for you anymore. Even if she and her fibbie partner are going at it like bunnies... from now on, you're on your own." Ben glared at his friend, "Who's side or you on?" "I'm a lawyer," Cello said before he started reading his novel again. "There's only one side that I'm on... my own..."
Meanwhile... Little Eagles Daycare Center "Here you go, Mr. Mulder," one of the daycare workers said as she handed William over to him. "Hey there buddy," he crooned and William squealed in delight. "How's my Boo doing?" As they walked away, he said, "Let's give Uncle Walt a call and see if he'll give us clearance to see your mommy and Auntie Hurricane..." he dialed. "Skinner." "Hey, Skin-Man, it's me, can you cut through some red tape for me so I can go down and see Scully and Starkweather unmolested?" "Do you have William with you?" "Of course." Skinner sighed, "I'll get an escort for you in a second." "Aw, Skinner, come on. This is me. I worked here for how many years..." "Mulder, with the current State of the Nation right now, I can't bend rules for anybody. You're a civilian, not an agent and civilians can't just roam around J. Edgar. So quit being a pain in the ass and tell me where you are and I will send you an escort. Somebody from the X-Files can walk you back out." "Yes sir," Mulder said out of habit and told him where he was standing. About fifteen minutes later, a tall, dark handsome agent who was a dead ringer for Keith Hamilton Cobb appeared. "Mr. Mulder," he said pleasantly. "Right this way." "Knock, knock," Mulder said when he entered his old office. Starkweather and Doggett looked up. "Wow," Starkweather said dryly, looking at William. "The interns are getting younger and younger." She got up and held out her arms. "Alright, give him up," Starkweather said. Mulder relented and Starkweather cuddled her nephew. "Hey there Prince William, what's goin- ergghh!!!" she gagged as William grabbed the Holy Medal of St. Christopher that hung on a silver chain around her neck. "Not so hard," she croaked out as she tried to loosen Will's grip on her necklace. "Scully around?" Mulder asked Doggett. "Ya just missed 'er Mul-duh," Doggett said. "She left about ten, fifteen minutes ago." "Damn," Mulder said. "Oh well. She wasn't expecting me anyway. Either one of you leaving soon?" "Nope," Starkweather said. "Uh-uh," Doggett replied. "Have a monster report due tomorrow. Why?" "Oh, somebody's got to hold my hand to take me out of the Bureau," Mulder griped. "Oh well," he sighed as he stuck his head out the door. "Hey, you! I guess I need you to walk me back up after all." "Not a problem Mr. Mulder." Starkweather froze when she heard his voice. <<No freaking way...>> "Alright, come here," Mulder took William from Starkweather. "Jerilyn, you okay?" "Who's that agent with you?" "I don't know. I don't know any of the agents around here anymore except for you guys. Anyway, I have to get going. I'll see you all later." Mulder adjusted William in the crook of his arm and left. "Doc," Doggett asked her. "What's the matter." Starkweather dove for her coat, her cell phone and her gun. "I'll be back," she promised him as she stuffed her weapon in her holster and flew out the door, putting her coat on, crying out "Mulder wait!!" She ran out the hall and reached the elevator just as it shut in her face. But not before she saw Lux Carlos standing next to Mulder and William.
In the elevator... "Mr. Mulder," Lux Carlos said, "I do have to take this opportunity to say how much I admire your work." "Oh well, you know, it takes so much effort to find a tie to match a suit and show up at a ribbon cutting for a new bank." "No, no, Mr. Mulder, no THAT work. Your 'real' work." Mulder eyed the agent. Then finally recognized him. "YOU." he said. "You're the guy at Scully's apartment when it was broken into last month." "And saved your ass from being blown to kingdom come," Carlos said. The elevator doors slid open to the parking garage. "Mr. Mulder, you and I need to talk... don't worry about the boy," he said when he saw Mulder clutch the child closer to him. "We'll be safe as churches..." Carlos sighed when the distrust refused to leave Mulder's eyes. "Mr. Mulder, the CIA has no desire to separate you and Agent Scully from William, I promise you that. We're trying to keep the three of you together." "What???"
Starkweather stood in front of the elevator, watching the numbers above the doors go up. When it hit the floor that lead to the parking garage and stopped, Starkweather bolted to her right and ran up the stairs just as Doggett was running down the hall, struggling to get his coat on. "God damn it," he muttered. Starkweather made it to the garage just in time to see Carlos, Mulder and the baby drive by in a 2002 Supra. "God damn it," she swore as she ran as fast as she could - "Why the fuck did I wear heels today???" - to her car which was parked close by. Doggett made it to the garage just in time to see Starkweather peeling out of there in her piece of crap Dodge Dynasty. "God damn it," he repeated as he ran to the rental car he was driving around while his truck was in the repair shop. "Let's find out what you can do," Doggett muttered as he put the pedal to the metal to try and catch up to Starkweather. <<Dammit, that girl drives like a bat out of hell...>>
A little while later... The Holocaust Memorial Museum When Carlos stopped his car in the Holocaust Memorial Museum parking lot, Mulder glowered at him. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?" "Let's walk outside." "It's late, it's dark and it's going to be too cold for William to be out long," Mulder snapped, angry that Carlos had said nothing to him in the car until now. Carlos reached into the back seat and pulled out a flannel blanket. "Wrap the boy up in this," he said, even though William was already in a snowsuit, plus a hat, plus mittens, plus swaddled in a blue baby blanket. Mulder complied, all the while thinking <<Scully is going to kill me>> Once William was ready, Carlos said, "Let's go. There's a lot to talk about in a short time." Meanwhile, a few cars away, Starkweather sat in her vehicle, shivering. She watched Mulder, carrying a well-bundled up William get out of the car, glaring at Carlos. <<He looks pissed>> Starkweather thought as she double-checked to make sure her gun was loaded. She then took her long hair out of its bun, as Mulder rarely saw her with her hair down. She reached into her glove box and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. After shutting the glove box with a bang, she slipped out of the car, following Mulder and Carlos, hoping they wouldn't notice her. After Starkweather left, Doggett got out of his car and just started walking after her, frowning. Whatever was going on... it couldn't be good. And he didn't like it one little bit. Meanwhile, Mulder and Carlos strolled around the museum as the sun was setting. "It's good to see you up and around, Mr. Mulder." "I suppose," Mulder said tartly, "I have you to thank for that." Carlos chuckled. "Yes and no. I did not make the serum but I was the one responsible for giving it to Agent Starkweather." "Can we quit the crap?" Mulder snapped. "It's cold and I need to get my boy home." "How trusting of you," Carlos said quietly, eyeing William, "that you assume the boy is yours." Mulder's jaw clenched as he clutched William closer to him. "This child is my son," he said in a quiet rage, "no matter what his DNA makeup may be." "You and Agent Scully have not had a paternity test?" "No, and it doesn't matter, look, Carlos," Mulder stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled around. "Starkweather suspects that the CIA is using this serum as a bribe to get me to join them. Is that true?" "Yes and no. Yes, we want to you to join us. No, the serum is not a bribe." Mulder glowered at the CIA agent, hate turning his hazel eyes fiery green. "Forget it," Mulder said as he started to walk away. "Agent Mulder," Carlos said. Mulder stopped. "Has quite the ring to it, doesn't it? Agent Mulder... not quite the same as Deputy Mayor Mulder. Listen to me," Carlos said urgently. "Time is short and there are eyes everywhere as you know. I don't expect you to answer right now. Just hear me out." "You have three minutes," Mulder snapped. "The CIA has never had an official X-Files Division as the FBI did. We were too busy spying on the Commies, the Hippies, Pearl S. Buck and John Lennon to be paying attention what was going on under our own noses. In essence, any weird shit, UFOs, EBE's, whatever, was pawned off to the fibbies where they dumped it in there basement where those files stayed there and rotted. Until you came along. And Agent Scully. "We have been closely monitoring your actions for the past nine years, and yes, I will admit, the CIA has hampered some of your investigations in interest of nation security. "However, there was a genetics experiment that the CIA had been investigating since the early Sixties, called the Eden Project. There have been several incarnations of it since it shut down. The most recent being the Litchfield Experiments." Carlos looked at Mulder. He had his full attention now. "Your investigation into Teena Simmons and Cindy Reardon shed a very very bright light into our work. We realized that our investigations and yours were very closely linked. "So in 1993, we started building our own X-Files Division. And it's been rough going because basically, you've been stealing our thunder. You and Agent Scully have always had the jump on us. The CIA's X-Files was in even more danger of being shut down more than the FBI's X-Files. "Because of my work in Intelligence in Special Ops for the Air Force, I was recruited into the CIA in 1996. I was given a deep undercover mission." "What was that?" "To monitor one of the test subjects of the Eden Project." "Who?" "Dr. Jerilyn Starkweather." "What??" Mulder said. "One of the main factors why I was chosen to be recruited into the CIA's X-File Division was my... uh..." he chuckled "intimate knowledge of the good doctor." "HOW intimate?" Carlos let that question fly over his head. "In the four years since I have been assigned to the Starkweather case, or Bailey case as it was called before she got married, there had been three attempts on her life. One of them resulted in the miscarriage of her child."
"How?" Mulder asked. "Starkweather said it was a spontaneous abortion." Carlos shook his head. "Someone had tainted the Starkweathers' water supply." He stepped closer to Mulder. "We work in deep undercover. For the most part, the shadow government doesn't realize the CIA X-Files exist, mainly thanks to the publicity the FBI's X-Files garners." When Mulder scowled, Carlos shrugged. "Hey, WE'RE not the ones with the television series inspired by OUR work. And you have to admit... Gillian Anderson is totally hot." Mulder fumed. "So we're just a cover for YOUR work?" "For now, but we have a vision. We want to be able to work together someday... FBI handling domestic X-Files, CIA handling foreign X-Files, working together as a team. A respected team. Not as a governmental agency joke." "How does Starkweather tie into this?" "Because of the Eden Project she's... uh... well. She's..." Carlos closed his eyes. "More human than human." He watched Mulder's face turn gray. "You've heard that phrase before, haven't you?" Mulder resting his cheek against William's head, stayed silent.
"Currently there are three of us in the CIA X-Files Division," Carlos said. "I had been trying to convince them to recruit you for almost three years now, but the other two steadfastly believed you would never leave the FBI's X-Files Division. Would never leave Agent Scully." "You weren't going to ask Agent Scully to join?" Mulder scowled. Carlos shook his head. "It's nothing personal against Agent Scully. Rather, it's a compliment. We would want her to remain in charge of the FBI X-Files." "'They' were right," Mulder said. "I would never leave Scully." "I don't expect an answer right now," Carlos said. "We want you to think this over. I'll be sending information to via secured routes. Read them carefully and destroy them. Now, normally, this is where I tell you to tell no one... but discuss this with Agent Scully. If we could have recruited you before your abduction, there'd be no problem, no loose ends to tie up. But now that you've returned and you've assumed the responsibilities of father and husband... that changes everything." He handed him a fake business card with a fake name. "Call this number, ask for Timothy Popkeys." "Keep your card. The answer is no." "Even though the life of Jerilyn Starkweather is on the line, as well as your... 'son'?" "The REAL X-Files will find the Truth about Jerilyn and my son. So put that damn card away and quit wasting my time." Carlos held out the card still. "Take it anyway. Humor me." Mulder took the card. As he walked away, Carlos called out, "Just remember Mr. Mulder... 'the crownless again shall be king.'" Mulder, trying to ignore him, hurried away, pulling out his cell phone to call a cab. Carlos stood there, watching Mulder quickly carry the boy away. "Well... Fiat Lux," a familiar smoky feminine voice said behind him. Carlos closed his eyes. "Bailey-girl," Carlos said as he turned around. "You need to stay out of this now. Thank you very much for getting the medication to Mulder, but you got to stay away from this one." Starkweather, her hazel eyes the exact same angry burning emerald color as Mulder's had been just a few minutes ago, snorted. "I never listened to you when you were a Lieutenant in the Air Force, what makes you think I'm going to listen to you now?" "Because its for your own good, Jerilyn," Carlos insisted. "For YOUR own good, you may want to think about packing up *your* basement office because trust me, darling, this town ain't big enough for both X-Files Divisions." "Jerilyn, this isn't the time to start a pissing contest between CIA and FBI. This goes beyond that. Someday, I promise, this will be explained to you, but right now, stay the hell away from this!" Starkweather rolled her eyes. "Lux, it's not me that needs to leave this alone. It's you. Leave him alone. He's all the family I have left now. He and the boy and Scully." "What about your husband, Mrs. Starkweather?" Starkweather pursed her lips, making the quintessential pissed-off-woman's face. She then threw a right punch, catching Carlos' square on the jaw. "Goddamn it Lux, you stay out of my life. Hear me? Stay away from me. Stay away from Mulder. And you better fucking stay away from that little boy. You have no clue what he means to Scully." She stormed off. Rubbing his jaw, Carlos muttered, "God, I gotta remember she hits." Flexing her hand, Starkweather stormed back to her car in a blind fury. Which was why she jumped a foot when a familiar graveled voice drawled from behind her: "Agent Starkweather, care to tell me what's goin' on?" "Jesus, Doggett!!" she said, putting her hand to her chest. "Don't sneak up on me like that. I might have shot you." "Starkweather, what the hell's goin' on? Who was that talkin' to Mul-duh? And why did you punch 'em?" "That's Lux Carlos," she whispered as they walked back to her car. In a hushed voice, she told him, "He just made his salespitch to Mulder." "Oh my God... did he seemed interested?" "He said no... but... Lux told him that William was in danger and that I was in danger." "You???" "He... he said that since I left Active Duty and entered the FBI, three attempts had been made upon my life... that the last time... assuming they're not counting that cute little alien bounty hunter critter that broke my wrist last summer... the last time, someone was poisoning our water supply, which caused me to miscarry." "Do you believe that?" "I... I don't know... Ben drank and bathed in the same water I did and he was fine. But I remember reading my charts while I was in the hospital and my bloodwork was completely out of whack so... I mean... it's possible, someone tampered with Mulder's water to drug him once, remember? And... and Charlie... when she was still raving looney-tuney, she said something about Alex and Bravo watching me, how they found out I was going to have a baby, so they had to make sure I didn't go to term. Oh... God. I don't know if Lux's lying to scare Mulder into joining or telling the truth to scare him into joining." "Whatta 'bout William?" Starkweather shook her head. "I don't know. But... Lux also said something else..." "What?" "Do you remember that poem that was taped to my door on Halloween night? The one I was trying to show you before all this crap with Charlie started?" "The one from that book, 'Lord of the Rings'?" "While Mulder was walking away, Lux quoted to him the last line of that poem. 'The crownless again shall be king'." "You're thinking its Carlos that put that note on your door?" "If that's so, that doesn't make any sense because when I confronted him tonight, he told me to stay out of it." "Then why was he givin' you cryptic heads-up?" "Exactly." Starkweather looked up at Doggett, doubt, fear and anger battling in her eyes. "He's trying to warn me about something, but I don't understand of what. And I have a sinking feeling it has to do with Mulder." "You honestly think Mulder would leave? Leave Scully and the baby, to join the CIA?" "Between you me and the fencepost?" "Yeah." "If push came to shove... yes. Especially if it concerned Boo." Just then, Starkweather's cell phone rang. "Starkweather." "Agent Starkweather, Assistant Director Skinner here." "Yes sir?" "I'm having a meeting with the Senior Staff of the FBI to discuss the merits of the X-Files. They want to see facts and figures on why we should keep the X-Files open and why we need four agents assigned to it. They are still hellbent on transferring you and Agent Doggett to the New York Field Office." "I can put together a Power Point presentation." "Can you also present it?" "Sure, no problem. When do you need it by." "This Friday. December 7." "Day of Infamy," she muttered. "I'll get it done. What time is the meeting?" "Nine AM sharp." "Okay." "Don't be late, the Director himself will be attending." "Goody-joy." "Thank you Agent Starkweather," and Skinner hung up. Starkweather turned to Doggett. "It's official. Life sucks."
Ben and Jerilyn's apartment Jerilyn, carefully juggling her briefcase, stuffed to the gills with X-Files, her notebook computer and her take-out from a little Chinese place down the street, let herself into her apartment. Caesar the cat greeted her with a yawn as he stretched himself out on the kitchen rug. "Hey there, furball," Starkweather said as she relieved herself of her burdens. She sat at the tiny kitchen table and after eating a very lonely dinner of beef broccoli on a bed of fried rice, of which she only ate half of, she picked up the first file and started reading it, taking notes. Then, she sighed and slammed the file down. "Not tonight," she groaned to herself. "I am not doing this shit tonight. I will get up early before work and deal with it. I am going to take a bath and go to bed early..." <<That way I'll be asleep before Ben comes home>> she thought cowardly. So she went into the ridiculously small bathroom, turned on the water taps and poured bath oil into the steaming water lavishly. She stripped quickly and settled in, her long hair floating on the water's surface like Ophelia's... She soaked mindlessly for a good twenty minutes when she heard a knock on her front door. <<I'm not here>> she thought, closing her eyes. Then her cell phone rang. "I'm not here," she mumbled. Then her home phone rang. On the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up: "Doc, its John Doggett. I know you're home. I saw your lights on. We got a situation. Open the door, Starkweather!!" "WHY ME???" she whined to herself. Then, in louder voice that she hoped he could hear, she yelled, "I'm coming! Give me a minute!!!" she leapt out of the tub, reached for a towel, wrapped it around her soaking wet body, then grabbed Ben's bathrobe, the nearest article of clothing available. Throwing it over the towel, she tied the belt around her tiny waist as she ran, still dripping with water, to the door. She looked like a drowned rat when she finally opened the door. Doggett was out of his suit, wearing his comfortable gear of jeans and an Atlanta Braves sweatshirt underneath his leather jacket. He looked like he had been caught unawares too. "This better be important," Starkweather griped. "It's Charlie." "What happened??" "Dr. Nyman's pitchin' a shit fit. About how we're handlin' HER patient," Doggett fumed. "What? Why?" "Something 'bout the drug we gave her. About being unorthodox. About not being within medical guidelines, somethin' 'bout it not bein' approved by-" "-The FDA," Dr. Starkweather groaned, covering her mouth and closing in her eyes in fatigued frustration. "Fuck me." "She yanked Reyes out of her therapy session with her and called Scully down there and Scully just called me a few minutes ago, told me to get you and get down there. She said Dr. Nyman's threatenin' to file a compliant against all four of us with the Bureau." "Terrific. I need this like a hole in my head." She looked up at Doggett. "The timing for this couldn't be worse..." Meanwhile, down the hall, the elevator doors slid open and Benjamin Starkweather stepped out. Tired, jet-lagged and upset, Ben looked up to see Special Agent John Doggett leaning against his doorframe, looking very intense, not paying attention to anything except who was standing in the doorway. As Ben walked closer, he could see his wife standing there, with wet hair and a bathrobe... Ben dropped his luggage with a loud thud and charged Doggett, cold-cocking him with a swift punch to that tender bone right below the right eye and next to the nose. There was a sickening sound of cartilage giving way. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BEN!!!" Jerilyn shrieked. "WHAT THE HELL??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING???" One of her next door neighbors shouted, "HEY! KEEP IT DOWN!" Doggett straightened up, wiping away the blood that trickled down his nose, "Hey, what the fu-" he started to say but Ben pushed him again. "Ben, that is enough," Starkweather grabbed her husband's arm, fully intending to put him in one of the FBI's delightful submissive holds, but Ben easily shook his petite wife off, accidentally slamming her into the hallway wall in the process. Starkweather tasted blood as she bit down on her tongue when her jaw hit the wall. If Doggett hadn't hit Ben after that, Starkweather certainly would have, Doggett just beat her to it with a solid uppercut to Ben's solar plexus which completely knocked the wind out of him. Doggett had the definite advantage of being a good foot taller than Ben and being in great shape. Ben, although still handsome and still slim, was slowly starting to lose his hard chest and six-pack abs due to too much office time and not enough gym time. So after punching Ben, it was easy for Doggett to push him up against the wall, holding Ben's arm tightly behind his back, as if he was about to slap handcuffs on him. All it would have taken was just a little more pressure and Doggett would have broken his arm. "Mr. Stawk-weddah," he said as cordially as he could under the circumstances, "I don't know what the hell I did to make you mistrust me so much. What ever it was, I apologize and wish to offer you reassurances that I have never ever looked or touched your wife in any way other than in friendship. But you better listen to me right now, sir," Doggett whispered in Ben's ear so Starkweather couldn't hear. "You touch her like that again and I'll kill you." He let Ben go. Ben, rubbing his arm, turned to Jerilyn, who was standing in front of their apartment door, with her arms crossed. He saw the thin trail of blood dribbling down her lip and chin. "Oh, God, Jerilyn, I didn't mean to-" he reached for her. "Touch me and I'll read you your rights," she said coldly, moving to stand inside the doorframe. When Ben tried to pass her to get inside, she slammed her hand against the frame, as if she was going to use her arm to clothesline him. "You're not staying here tonight." "Where the hell am I suppose to go?" he demanded. "Try the Stardust Sleep Inn," she hissed at him. "I hear they have vibrating beds and free HBO, you god damned hypocrite." Ben stared at Starkweather, jaw clenched. Then swiftly he turned away from her, picked up his luggage and exited. Doggett quickly walked over to her. Taking one look at his face, for the first time since she had known him, Starkweather quailed in fear. She had never ever seen him so angry before. "He ever hit you before?" he demanded. "No," she snapped back, wiping the blood off her face with the back of her hand. Doggett advanced on her as if he was questioning a suspect he didn't believe, "You sure?" he asked in a soft, angry voice. "YES," she told him firmly. When he didn't back off, she exploded "Goddamn it, Doggett, do I LOOK like the type of woman who would put up with being slapped around? I don't GET bruises, I GIVE them," she said defiantly. Then she sighed, shoulders slumping. "He's never done that before. He's never lost control like that before. Normally he just likes to yell. And I usually just yell back," she finished, defeated. "He finally snapped, I guess." Doggett's cell phone rang. "John Doggett." "Dammit, Agent Doggett where are you?" Scully barked. "We're comin' as soon as we can, there's been... well, we've run into some problems Agent Scully, but we'll be there as soon as we can." "What KIND of problems?" she bitched at him. "We're both bleedin'." "What?" "Yeah." Instantly chastised, Scully said, "Are you alright? What happened?" "We'll explain when we get there, Dana," Doggett said and he abruptly hung up his phone. "All I gotta say, Doc is that you better not be makin' excuses for 'im. And if he touches you again, I'm gonna bury him, that's a promise." "Doggett, really, I appreciate the Southern gentility-" "This ain't about bein' Southern! I am your partner, okay. It's my job to watch your back, to make sure nothing happens to you. Be it in the fields or otherwise. I'm here to cover for you, 'cause I know you'd do exactly the same thing for me. So can the "I am woman hear me roar" bullshit. If a suspect pulls a gun on you, I'm going to fire my weapon at him. If your husband hits you, I am gonna beat his ass." During Doggett's speech, Starkweather had listened with arms crossed, eyes on the floor. After he finished speaking, she raised her head. "You better come in," she said. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig and we gotta hurry to Waldenbrooks." She paused. Then softly she said, "I know you got my back Doggett... I count on that..."
Waldenbrooks Asylum The only two people who looked remotely professional were Dr. Nyman, dressed in an handsome violet suit which was shrouded by white doctor's coat and Reyes who was still in the heather gray dress suit with the black silk blouse she had worn to work that day, wearing her favorite silver knuckle-duster rings. Scully was in blue jeans, a rarity into itself and a sweatsuit judging by the size was undeniably Mulder's and her fiery hair was pulled back with a plastic clip. Both she and Reyes were sitting in the leather chairs in front of Dr. Nyman's desk, waiting in a terse silence for Starkweather and Doggett to appear. All three women gasped when they arrived. Doggett had the beginnings of a huge shiner starting under his right eye. When he shrugged off his leather jacket, they saw the dried droplets of blood spattered on the Atlanta Braves logo. Starkweather, her hair still damp from the bath she never got to finish, was clad in a pair of khakis that needed to be ironed and a red sweater that had seen better days. Her lip looked puffy and she spoke very slowly since each word caused her pain after she had bitten her tongue when she was slammed against the wall. She was carrying her briefcase. "Sorry we're late," she said not sounding apologetic at all. "Are you alright????" Scully asked. "We'll live," Starkweather said. "Thank you," Dr. Nyman said silkily, "for gracing us with your patience. Agent Starkweather," she stood up and faced her, "please explain to me what these two won't," she waved her hand at Scully and Reyes as if they were insignificant bugs, "and tell me where you got the drug you gave to Charlie to treat her disorder?" "Ma'am," Starkweather said, "due to the unusual circumstances of the investigation, I can not disclose that information at this time." Dr. Nyman frowned, her almond shaped eyes narrowed to slits, "Was it an illegal substance that you gave my patient?" "Ma'am, I can not disclose that information due to the jeopardy it poses to our investigation." "I do not understand this 'investigation'," Dr. Nyman spat out finally. "You have eyewitnesses and a video surveillance camera that verifies that Charlie killed those people. I am willing to give the courts my professional opinion of Charlie's state of mind at court. What more investigating is necessary and how is a controlled substance that has not been approved by the Food and Drug Administration related to this investigation?" "There are circumstances concerning Charlie that I or anyone of the agents of record on the case can explain right now. We ask for your patience in this matter and would appreciate your cooperation." "My patience?? My patience," huffed Dr. Nyman. "As in having Agent Reyes come in late at night, after hours, disturbing the other patients-" "I explained to you," Reyes interrupted, "Charlie responds better at night. And also, I still don't understand how I'm bothering the other patients seeing they're either asleep or so disturbed they wouldn't know the difference whether I'm there or not-" "- plus bringing in a drug that you can't verify whether it's legal or not! Agents, I understand and sympathetic to your position. However, I can not have you coming into this hospital, injecting my patients with an unknown substance that you can't or won't tell me whether or not it's legal." "You were aware of what we were doin'," Doggett drawled for the first time that night in the doctor's office. "You walked down with me." "I didn't know that it wasn't FDA approved," she snapped. "You glossed over that part. I could have your medical license for this," she snapped at Starkweather. "And yours," she added, directed at Scully. Scully replied crisply "Since neither Agent Starkweather nor I are in private practice, that is not much of a threat, Dr. Nyman." "Then I will go to your supervisors and file a compliant," she made a bigger threat. "And I will bar all four of you from seeing Charlie." "I was granted power of attorney and legal guardianship over Charlie as of November 17, 2001," Starkweather said, crossing over to Dr. Nyman's desk and placed her briefcase on top of it. She opened it and handed her copies of the legal papers. "A DNA test was conducted while Agent Doggett and I were in the field on a different assignment and it came back conclusive I am blood relation. Since she was mentally incapacitated and I am the only known relation, Charlie has been remanded into my custody. Make all the threats you want to about barring us, Dr. Nyman, but I can pull her out of here if I want to. If all you're worried about if that fact that the insurance companies might start breathing down because you albeit unwittingly allowed a patient to receive an experimental drug for lack of a better word, I can get FDA approval for you. But for now, can we just agree on a compromise? As long as Charlie is a patient here, we will not give her any more of the serum until it has FDA approval. Can you agree to that Dr. Nyman and let us get home??????"
Outside of Waldenbrooks "Starkweather," Scully scolded her, "you should not have promised Dr. Nyman something you are not sure you can deliver. FDA approval for a new pharmaceutical can take months, years even." "I can deliver," Starkweather said sullenly. "And quickly too. We can get FDA approval, we just need to resource our angels." "What are you talking about?" Reyes said. "Scully, have Mulder contact Senator Matheson. See what he can do. Meanwhile, I'll drop in on my dear stepmother Jenny and see what she can do." "But," Doggett reminded her, "your stepmother only backs the "Big" corporations. Big Tobacco. Big Oil. Big Insurance Companies. What we're trying to do, get FDA approval pushed through for an experimental drug... I don't know if that'll fly. Insurance companies usually run screaming from stuff like that." "But right now major insurance companies are fighting the Patient Bill of Rights on the premise that too many small businesses will not be able to meet the strict requirements the PB of R calls for. And therefore, more businesses will fail and more people will be denied care because they can not afford it." "What does that have to do with this?" Scully asked. Starkweather said, "Nothing, except that my stepmother's spin doctors on Capitol Hill can sure find a way to make the Patient Bill of Rights look bad by using Charlie as an example... such as... why is Charlie being denied coverage right now, when she's covered through me, through my insurance at the Bureau, why are they denying her a treatment that works and how is the Patients Bill of Rights going to protect the rights of the patient if they elect to go ahead with a experimental procedure and have coverage through a major company or institution and/or is willing to pay out of pocket and the doctor in charge still says no on the grounds that it is experimental? Does this mean we have to waste valuable time going from doctor to doctor until we find one that says 'yes'? How does that change anything?" "Doc it scares me when you think political," Doggett said. "Well and I don't even know what I said is a hundred percent true, I haven't followed the whole debate that closely," Starkweather admitted. "But I know Jenneva's team would think of something along those lines. With Jenny behind us, we can get the approval pushed through. We already have most of the research, thanks to Lux," she said bitterly. "I'll meet with her tomorrow afternoon after I finish putting together my Power Point presentation for the Senior Staff." "What Power Point Presentation?" Scully asked. "If you give me a ride home, I'll tell you about it," Starkweather said wearily. She looked up at everyone. "I'm sorry but that's the best I can do right now and I need to go home." When Doggett's steely disapproving eyes rested on her, she said directly to Doggett "If anything happens, you will be the first I will call, okay?" It took a moment for Doggett to say, "Okay." "Okay." She sighed. "Are you ready Scully?" "Ready," she said. When they were out of earshot of Reyes and Doggett, Scully said, "Agent Starkweather, what happened?" "Heaven and Earth collided." "What?" "Never mind. It's not important. Have you talked to Mulder tonight?" Scully looked at Starkweather who was walking around to the passenger side of the car. "What do you know?" she asked tersely. "Everything," Starkweather said simply. "Do you mind if I come over to your place for awhile?" Scully asked. "I need to talk to someone." "Mi casa su casa amiga," Starkweather said as Scully unlocked the car. Meanwhile, as they watched Scully and Starkweather walk to Scully's car, Reyes asked Doggett, her voice full of concern: "John, what happened tonight?" She had noticed how red and angry their auras had both been and how the energy levels increased tenfold when they entered the room. Doggett looked at Reyes, a weary smile at his lips. "Buy me a cuppa coffee and I'll tell you 'bout it?" She slipped her arm through his and they walked to their respective vehicles. "Where? The 'Coffee Is My Friend' Coffeeshop?" "Sounds good to me."
The 'Coffee is My Friend' 24 Hour Coffee Shop Reyes watched Doggett dial Starkweather's number again on his cell as she sipped a mocha latte that was as warm and dark as her eyes. This was the fourth time since they've arrived at the coffee shop that he had called her. "Doc? Yeah, it's me... now why would I be checkin' up on you?" he said gently. "Well, I just wanna make sure... oh, okay... well, call if you need anything... I know... I'm just... sure... sure... I know... and I meant what I said to you earlier tonight... I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," he hung up the cell phone. "Scully's with her. She's gonna stay there for a while," Doggett said, having no idea that while he and Reyes were having a late night cup of joe, Scully was sitting on Starkweather's couch, distraught about the information Mulder gave her just before Reyes called her to come help her with Charlie's situation. "Sorry," Starkweather said, sitting back in her armchair. "But I knew that if I kept ignoring Doggett he was going to end up coming over here to make sure everything was alright, so..." she shrugged. Scully, eyes red with crying, stroked Caesar who was purring just as loud as a Mack truck. "It's okay," she said. "Sorry to just dump on you like that." She took another Kleenex out of the box that Starkweather had brought out when she had started to weep. "I'm usually not such a crybaby." "It's okay Scully," Starkweather said. "You can't keep something like that inside you forever. I mean, my God, this is your kid he was talking about. Hell, I think you're handling this with a lot of style and grace. If it had been me in your shoes... Shit, I'd be in meltdown right now if you and I switched places." Caesar, always good about comforting the brokenhearted, crawled into Scully's lap and curled up into an affectionate furball. "So why is John concerned for you, Jerilyn?" Scully asked, composing herself again, still embarrassing for crying in front of her friend. "Um... well..." and Starkweather found herself spilling her story to Scully unaware that Doggett was unloading onto Reyes. After Doggett finished talking, Reyes, ignoring the 'No Smoking' sign, lit up a Morley Light. The cashier ignored the stream of smoke rising to the ceiling. "I could have killed him," Doggett admitted. "Wow... " Reyes said. "I had no idea, well, I mean, I knew something was wrong and I knew Ben has self-confidence issues, that's not a secret, but I never imagined his jealousy was that deep." "Yeah..." Doggett was staring off into space, fiddling with the spoon. "John, what aren't you telling me?" Reyes asked him after inhaling her dose of cancer. She exhaled the smoke and said, "You're hiding something from me." Doggett was extremely quiet for a long time. "Because... " he drawled finally, uncomfortable. The guilt was written all over his face. "Because Ben's jealousy may not be totally... unjustified..." "What??" "When Starkweather and I were in New York," Doggett confessed. "Something happened that shouldn't have..." "What happened?"
September 12, 2001 Doggett and Starkweather finally staggered back into their hotel. The lobby was full of people, everyone who had been stranded at the Newark International Airport when the all airports were shut down. Some where sleeping in chairs. Others were huddled against walls. Still others were still milling about. All looked uncomfortable, unhappy, unsure and frightened to death. "Doggett," Starkweather said, looked at all the pale ghosts hovering about the lobby with no place to go, "would the Bureau frown if I gave up my room and crashed with you so that somebody would have a bed to sleep on tonight?" "At this point," Doggett said, "I don’t think they’d give a fat rat’s ass..." ...As she packed up her room, she still felt as if she was drowning in misery... Starkweather zipped her duffel bag shut. Before going over to Doggett’s, she picked up the phone. She tried to call Ben, but the phone lines were still jammed. She tried his cell and got his cell phone. "Ben, honey, it’s me," she tried hard not to let her voice quaver. I hope you get this message. I can’t get through to you on a landline. But I’m okay. And I love you and I miss you and… I’m in Room 345. Um, I lost my cell phone, so just call the hotel and leave a message if I’m not in. I’m going to stay and help the New York Office for a while so I don’t know when I’m coming home. I’ll call tomorrow. Bye." She took a shaking breath. Debated. Then picked up the phone again and dialed. "Hi, this is Jeremy Bailey. I’m not in right now, so please leave your name, number and a detailed message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible." After the annoying beep, Starkweather said, "Daddy? Dad are you home? It’s me, Jeri. Um… I know that we haven’t exactly talked in a while and I’m still pissed as hell at you. For lying to me. But… um… I don’t know if Ben talked to you, if that’s why you’re not answering ‘cause you’re on the phone with him, but something happened…um…. I’m in New York. Um, I saw everything, Daddy. I saw the planes crashing into the Towers and… people jumping from the buildings and…" her breath was coming out in gasps now. "Oh Dad, this sounds so lame and cheesy, but it’s not worth it. I don’t want to be mad anymore. I wanna talk to you, I miss you so much. I’m so sorry I was such a bitch to you. Please call me. I lost my cell phone so just call me at 201-555-7891. I’m in Room 345. Please call me," she was sobbing freely now. "Please. I need to talk to you so bad right now. I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I have to go. Bye Dad," she whispered as she hung the phone up. She wiped the tears away and gave herself a minute to compose herself. Then she picked up her luggage and walked down to Doggett’s room. He was still dressed in his sooty and bloodied clothing. "Hey," he said, moving aside so she could come in. She dropped her luggage with a clunk. Plunking down on the foot of the bed, she said "Sorry it took so long. I was trying to call Dad and Ben." "Any luck?" Starkweather shook her head. "No. Got their voice mails though, so I told them to call here. I wish I hadn’t lost my cell phone." "I wish mine hadn’t broken," Doggett said as he pulled out clean clothes from his suitcase. "Do you want to get cleaned up first?" "No, go ahead," Starkweather said. "I want to babysit the phone for a bit, in case either Dad or Ben calls." Doggett nodded and went into the tiny hotel bathroom. He stood under the streaming hot water for what felt like centuries. Doggett closed his eyes and let the boiling clean water pelting him from the showerhead massage his sore muscles and wash away all traces of this terrible day. The water going down the drain was black. Doggett came out of the shower, dressed in a white T-shirt and sweatpants. "So which bed d’ya wan-" he started to say, but then he noticed that Starkweather was curled up in the fetal position at the foot of the bed nearest the bathroom. "Guess you want this one," he said to her sleeping form. He took off her shoes, still covered in the ashes of the fallen and gingerly, feeling extremely uncomfortable, slipping his hands up her pant leg to remove her knee high stockings. <<Thank God she shaved>> he thought. As if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable enough. It would have been worse if he had to contend with stubble He picked her up, whispering "Come on," as if he was putting a child to bed. Awkwardly, he took the covers off and put her back down on the bed. He smoothed her bangs away from her face, her sooty gray face. Her hair felt crusty and dirty. In the dim light of the room, he could still see tear-streak stains down her cheeks. After turning out the lights in the main room, he went back into the bathroom and took a washcloth off the towel rack. He ran it under warm water and wrung it out. Grabbing a hand towel, he returned to Starkweather’s side and by the light from the bathroom, he gently wiped the ashes away from her face, starting from the brow, down to her chin. He took out her earrings. He took off her necklace. He moved slowly, as to not disturb her. Her eyebrows were scrunched tightly together, Doggett knew she had to be reliving today in her dreams tonight. He then took each hand and also wiped the blackness away. He removed her watch, but not her wedding band. Her skin, despite the gentle cleansing, still felt gritty. He wanted to take her hair down but was afraid that would wake her, so he let that be. She still looked like she was in the throes of a bad dream. But then, so was he and he wasn’t even asleep yet. Doggett sat on the edge of the bed, twisting the filthy washrag, his breaths coming out in sporadic bursts. Everything hurt, his head, his body, his heart. He looked around the room, as if he was looking for an escape route, completely unaware of the tears pouring down his face. He just wanted to run, to turn back to the clock, to go away, somewhere, sometime where this wasn’t happening. He knew those guys. The NYPD. The FDNY. Danny, little Danny Mick, for God’s sake, he had coached him in Little League and now he was a firefighter. He was running into the buildings instead of running away and his older brother, Mickey. His first partner, one of his best friends, he hadn’t even known if he was going to call him or not because his ex-wife was still friends with Minn and he didn’t want to make things awkward, but fate stepped in and he was supposed to meet him for breakfast… Dear God, what was he going to tell Minerva? What was he going to tell the girls? Doggett began to rock back and forth slightly, now noticing the tears but trying to keep quiet. "Doggett?" Hastily wiping away his tears on the back of his hand, he said roughly, before turning around, "Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you." Starkweather was sitting up, Indian-style, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold. "Don’t give up hope yet. We don’t know if Mickey was in the building when it collapsed. The phones are all jammed up so Minn wouldn’t be able to call us with news one way or the other. There’s still hope. He might be okay." He looked over at her now. She looked so so young, like a teenage girl trying to comfort her grieving father. "That’s what Reyes said," he whispered, "before we found Luke. And I knew she was wrong," he said brokenly. Starkweather’s face contorted, as if she was going to cry too. "Then don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault any more than what happened to your boy was." Doggett lowered his head, shoulders shaking. Moved to tears, Starkweather crawled across the bed behind him and threw her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Doggett clasped her tiny hands tightly, "Oh God," he sobbed. "This can’t be happening," he shook his head. Starkweather hugged him tighter, at a loss for words. Doggett squirmed out of her embrace, making Starkweather feel like maybe she overstepped the boundaries, but it was only so he could turn around and hold onto her tightly, facing her. "At least you’re okay," Doggett said. "Thank God for that. You’re okay." "I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re all okay, we’re good enough, smart enough and doggone it, people like us," Starkweather tried vainly to crack a joke, but she snuffled her way through most of it. She turned her head to give him a friendly peck on one cheek while wiping tears away on the other. Still holding one side of his face with one hand, she broke away from him just a little bit so she could cup the other side of his face with her other. Using her thumb to wipe away tears on the other side of his face she whispered raggedly, "It’ll be okay," as her own tears streamed down her face. "It’ll be okay." She kissed his forehead and then, to his surprise and hers, his lips. There was nothing sexual about the kiss, nothing carnal or hormonal or erotic. It was soft, gentle and closed mouthed. A brushing of her lips against his. The kiss itself was practically G-rated. Starkweather held his face and Doggett put his arms around her waist, holding her as close as possible and they exchanged two or three more kisses like that, tender, affectionate and mild. They broke apart and Doggett put his hand to her dirty cheek, mutely telling her thank you for her unwavering support. Starkweather smiled sadly, rested her face in his hand for just a minute, then turning her head away, she slid off the bed, going into the bathroom. When he heard her shut the door, Doggett laid down where she had been and closed his eyes. Starkweather turned the shower on full blast and stepped into it fully clothed. It was a strange act she had performed for as long as she could remember, stepping into a running shower with all of her clothes on whenever she felt too overwhelmed to go on. She slid down the shower wall and sat in the bathtub, arms around her legs, chin on knees, feeling the cold water penetrate into her.
December 5, 2001 Her coffee cold and forgotten and smoking her fourth cigarette since they arrived, Reyes stared at Doggett in absolute disbelief. He might as well told her he believe in aliens. "What... what happened after that??" she forced herself to ask while thinking <<I don't want to know...>> Doggett shook his head, "Nothing. She stayed in the bathroom for... I don't know how long. She came out and went over to the other bed. And I laid awake the rest of the night." "Does Ben know about that?" "Christ, I don't know," Doggett began to massage his temples. Speaking from experience, Reyes said lowly, "John, if there's something going on between you and Jerilyn, you HAVE to be careful, you could lose your job because of th-" "There is NOTHING going on between me and Agent Starkweather!" Doggett snapped. He took a breath. "I'm sorry, Mon," he said contritely. "That's not... it's... I never thought... I mean... I'm not like... I've never been the type of guy who... oh, Jesus, Monica, I don't know what the hell is goin' on," he confessed finally. "I don't know what she has or hasn't said to Ben. I don't know what's goin' through her mind half the time, she's got the best damn poker face in the world... all I know is..." he stopped, shaking his head. "What?" Reyes prodded gently. Doggett looked up at her, "I know I'm in trouble." Reyes didn't press any further. She knew that was going to be most she was going to get from her tight-lipped friend anyway.
Meanwhile Back at Ben and Jeri's apartment "... and in all honestly," Starkweather was just finishing up her story. "I didn't know who to be more afraid of. I mean, neither one of them had ever scared me before. Ben's not a physical confrontation kind of guy. I mean, *I'm* more likely to kick someone's ass before he would. And Doggett... I thought Doggett was going to kill him. I'm serious Scully. We've all seen Doggett hacked off and whatever but I have never ever, not even on September 11, seen him this angry before. Makes me even more determined now to stay on his good side." Scully listened with knots in her stomach. "What are you going to do?" Starkweather looked down at the floor. "The inevitable," she finally said. "After I finish putting together the presentation and talking to Jenny on Capitol Hill tomorrow... I'm going to go find a lawyer and get separation papers drawn up. This bullshit's gone on long enough. And I can't live like this anymore. I mean, our screaming matches are bad enough, but if I have to sit and worry if he's going to take a swing at me too... forget that. No. Not happening." "I noticed you stopped wearing your wedding ring," Scully said gently. "Before all this happened tonight. I know tonight was probably the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back... but what other straws added to the burden beforehand?" Starkweather looked up at Scully, her hazel eyes darkened by a familiar shadow of hurt and betrayal. The same shadow she had seen in Mulder's eyes way too many times. Again, the similarities between brother and sister hit Scully like a battering ram to her belly. "I have reason to believe that he has decided that he has no reason to be faithful to me anymore." "Are you sure?" "Pretty damn sure," and Starkweather told her about the fateful night she and Doggett spent snowed in at the dive of a motel and discovering Ben's car. "And another thing too..." Starkweather now looked up at the ceiling. "When I had just gotten back from that undercover mission in Sioux City and before we got that assignment to go to La Luna Blanca... I smelled a woman's perfume in here. A scent I never wear. Sandalwood. I thought I was just going nuts and was overtired, but now... Doggett said not to give up hope, that everything is circumstantial evidence but... my mom told me to always go by your gut instinct. If something feels wrong, it probably is." "Your mother sounds like a very wise woman." "She was," Starkweather's eyes strayed to her favorite photograph of her adoptive mother hung on the living room wall. It was a candid shot of the two of them together, wading in the Atlantic Ocean together. Starkweather couldn't have been more than seven or eight, her hair, dark brown like Mulder's, was pulled back in pigtails and tied with brightly colored bows. Lynette Bailey's long auburn curls hung loosely around her sweet heart-shaped face, and she was looking at Jerilyn, holding her hands as they walked deeper into the sea. "Is that her?" Scully said, looking at the photograph as well. "Yes," Starkweather said. "She's beautiful." "She was... before the cancer took over her life." Scully debated with herself, then asked, "Jerilyn, I understand, more than you'll ever know, the desire to keep your private life, private... but... when we were on our first case, together, in Scotland, when we were examining the body of the Air Force major who had crashed there... I saw a scar on the back of your neck..." Starkweather snapped her full attention back to Scully, frowning. Scully held her hand up to signal to Starkweather to please let her finish. "Agent Starkweather, if you've studied the X-Files as closely as you say you have, then you will know that I was abducted my second year with the X-Files and was returned months later. Infertile. And a ticking time bomb within my body that was detonated when a chip, a computer chip was removed from the back of my neck. And I have a scar similar to yours..." "And you had the same cancer my mother died from." "Jerilyn," Scully said. "There was a reason why Skinner denied you immediate access to your mother's diary. There are some... horribly graphic details of her abduction which... well, if what happened to my mother would ever happen to mine... I don't know what I would do. And I don't know what I would do if I ever lost Mulder or my baby. And I am afraid. I am so afraid, Jerilyn." "Of what?" Now they were speaking in whispers. "That they'll come back." "But who are 'they'?" Starkweather felt tears pricking her eyes. "We don't even know who the enemy is. I mean, so... the Truth is Out There. Great. Fine. Wonderful. But WHERE is it? Where do we even begin to look?" "I believe," Scully said. "That the answers lie within the X-Files. And ourselves. We just have to be brave enough to start." "Do you REALLY believe that?" "I want to believe." "Scully," Starkweather said desperately. "You don't understand," and Starkweather confessed her greatest secret, the secret not even Ben knew. "I have no memory of my childhood. Granted you don't have cognitive recollection when you are an infant of toddler. But I don't remember ANYTHING from before I was six years old. My memory literally started... when my mother and I were found in Montana, in the mountains... and... and... when we were found, the men who found us and took us to the hospital in Helena, they kept calling me Jerilyn..." she looked up at Scully, trembling. "But Scully, I swear to God, I thought my name... I thought my name was Echo." "That's what..." "... Charlie calls me." Starkweather fought off tears. "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner, but... all this other crap came up and... I didn't think it was important until now." Scully leaned forward. "Tell me, Jerilyn. Tell me everything you can remember from that day in the mountain." "Scully... my life is fucked up enough right now. Having it turned into an X-File..." "This isn't about the X-Files," Scully whispered. "This is about my son. My son I wasn't supposed to have. You share Mulder's genes and we share the same scars, I have the exact same mark on the back of my neck, but you can't see it because my hair covers it. There might be a clue, something... that can help us figure out what the hell happened... and how to stop it."
Near the Rocky Mountains The winds were cold. So was the hard ground she was lying on. She sat up, blinking and witnessed the first sunrise she would remember, pink and pearly with streaks of orange reflecting off the clouds. She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering so hard, her teeth were chattering. She looked at her toes, they were nearly purple from the cold. The rest of her naked self was slowly turning blue. She was barely six years old. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the growing light. She saw a shape lying not too far away from her. She crawled towards it. It was a woman, a woman dressed in nothing but her own blood. It was oozing from everywhere, her nose, her mouth, her ears. From puncture wounds in her wrists and ankles. From gashes on her face and back. From a long cut from neck to belly button. From a funny square shaped wound in the back of her neck. And yet, she breathed, her breath visible in the Montana morning chill. The severely frostbitten little girl screamed hysterically, her cry echoing through the mountains. She scampered away from the dying woman and hid behind a nearby boulder, hugging herself again, sobbing, terrified. The child's sobs increased when the woman began babbling. "Jeri... where... I want my little girl... Jeri... Jerilyn..." Another sound, a motor, overpowered the woman's ravings. The sound of the vehicle came closer and closer. It stopped. "Jesus Aloysius Christ, what the fuck is this??" The little girl listened to the conversation of the two men. She heard the door of their Jeep slam shut. "She alive?" "Barely, come on, let's get her out of here." "Wait... there's footprints..." and the girl heard a strange noise, the sound of M-16 rifles being taken off of safety. "Think the sicko who did this is still around?" "No... look, they're little, like kid's prints..." A rustling. The little girl sat absolutely still. She heard footsteps, gravel, weeds and frost being crushed by boot soles. "Oh my God..." a voice said above her. Airman Michael Portman had been trained to witness horrific acts of violence and abuse in the name of war. But nothing trained him for the sight of a malnourished child covered with scars and with long, tangled brown hair and enormous witch-hazel eyes that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The little girl whimpered and tried to run, but Airman Portman caught her easily. "Hey now, hey now," he said as she struggled to get away. "Wilson! I need your help, man!! And bring a coat or blanket... something!" Airman Wilson finished putting the bloody body of Lynnette Bailey in the back of the Jeep when he heard his buddy call for him. He ran to him and saw him struggling with a child. "Holy Christ," he muttered as he slung off his coat. As a father of two, he was far better with kids than Portman, so he crouched down and threw his jacket around her. "Now, sweetheart," he crooned, petting her dirty hair. "It's okay. We're here to help you. We're gonna get you to a safe place that's warm and lots of good stuff to eat. Oreos and Snickers and whatever you want honey." As a father, he understood the value of a bribe. The child stopped fighting instantly. "You're not gonna hurt me?" the little girl spoke her first sentence that her powerful memory would retain forever. "Hurt you?" Wilson looked at Portman, telegraphing his horror and disgust for whatever it was that this child just lived through. "No, baby, we're not gonna hurt you. We're the good guys. We're the United States Air Force." He wrapped his coat around her bony body tighter and scooped her up. "Let's get 'em to the medics at base," he said to partner. "We're probably gonna have to drive 'em to the hospital in Helena but let's get the hell outta here." As the soldiers ran back to their vehicle, Wilson kept asking the little girl questions. "Who's your mommy, honey? What's her name?" "I dunno..." The child was starting to fade in and out. She had spent too much time in the frigid outdoors. "Your daddy. What about your daddy?" "Dunno." "Sweetie, what's your name. Can you tell me your name?" Wilson begged her as they climbed into the Jeep. Portman drove away like a bat out of hell. Lynnette Bailey was rolled up like a burrito in a military issue blanket. Wilson turned the heat on as hot as it would go. "Please, baby, you can tell me your name." "Echo." "Echo???" "Yeah..." As he drove, Portman asked, "Think it's those freaky UFO cult people the CO was tellin' us to watch out for?" "Dunno," Wilson said as he rubbed Echo's foot to improve circulation. "But if it is, I'm poppin' a cap in their asses."
Saint Peter's Hospital Lieutenant Jeremy Bailey burst into the admitting room, his face lined with fatigue. Dressed as a civilian, he forgot that he would not get the respect he normally received as a military officer. "Where is Lynnette and Jerilyn Bailey?" he barked immediately at the nurse. The woman looked up at him and scowled. "What's the magic word?" she demanded, her twelve-hour shift ending in five minutes. Just as Jeremy was going to rip out the nurse's heart and eat it for breakfast, a gentle voice behind him called his name. He turned around and saw a tiny man in a white lab coat. "Lieutenant Bailey? I'm Dr. Gibbs, I'm the physician in charge of your wife and daughter. Come with me please." "I want to see them," Jeremy demanded. "I want to see my little girl." "In a moment, I need to speak with you," Dr. Gibbs said pleasantly and Jeremy followed him mutely into his office. Dr. Gibbs did not settle himself behind his opulent desk but rather pulled up a chair next to Jeremy so they were eye to eye. "This is the part of the job I hate," he said sadly. "Mrs. Bailey is in critical shape. She's suffering from severe frostbite and heavy blood loss, plus evidence of extreme malnourishment and abuse," he said softly, speaking in layman's terms for the Lieutenant. "When the Security Forces from the 120th Fighter Wing found Mrs. Bailey on their patrol, she was conscious but irrational. She has now slipped into a coma." Jeremy leaned forward and pressed his fist to his lips. "And Jerilyn?" he asked in a softer voice than even the doctor's. "Jerilyn..." Dr. Gibbs sighed. "Hers is a unique case." "I know," Jeremy said bitterly. "We've been through the wringer with this child." "That's just it, Lieutenant," Dr. Gibbs said. "I received your daughter's medical history yesterday and have spent all night reviewing it. Sir," the doctor said slowly, as if he was afraid to believe what he was going to say. "Whatever mental disorder your daughter was suffering from... is gone." "What?" "According to all of our tests, she is a perfectly healthy child." "WHAT?" "Whatever mental illness she was suffering from, has... for utter lack of a better word... been cured." Jeremy felt his breath catch in his throat. "Can I see her?" "But of course, but I must warn you... although she is no longer suffering from the schizophrenic symptoms described in her casefiles, does not mean she has been untouched by this experience." "Meaning?" "She has total amnesia." "Amnesia?" "Sir, she couldn't even remember her own name." Jeremy walked down the hall to the pediatrics unit alone, heart pounding in total dread. He remembered the horrible fight he had with Lynnette the night before he shipped out to sea for that six month tour. How she threatened to divorce him if he even made an attempt to put Jerilyn in an asylum. <<And now she's cured>> Jeremy thought, consumed by guilt <<I wanted to lock her up and throw away the key and she's **FINE**, but how is that to be? What the hell happened those six months I was gone????>> He paused in front of the door, took a breath, a pushed it up. He took a sharp breath as he looked at the tiny girl in the pink pajamas sitting on the bed, hugging a Raggedy Ann doll a sympathetic nurse bought for her, watching cartoons, giggling. She looked innocent. She looked sweet. She looked beautiful. She looked normal. Jeremy knocked on the door. Swiftly, the child's head turned. It did not escape Jeremy that she cringed from him a little, clutched the doll just a little tighter. "Hi," he said in a friendly voice. "Can I come in?" "Okay," she whispered. Jeremy turned off the television set another sympathetic nurse had wheeled in on a cart for her. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. "Do you know who I am?" he asked gently. He never realized how big her eyes were, like a curious cat. She shook her head. "I'm your daddy," he informed her, still using a gentle voice. "I'm here to take you home." "Is that lady okay?" she whispered. "The lady?" "The lady in the field with me," she said in her adorable little-girl lisp. "The lady that was hurted." "The doctors are working to make her better," he told her, heart plummeted. After all the care, all the attention Lynnette had lavished upon her, after taking a stand to make sure he would not send Jerilyn away, the child didn't even remember Lynnette was her mother. "Jerilyn, angel, how did you and the lady end up in the field." "The p'lice 'ready asked me that," she said in an exasperated voice. Not purposely being bratty, just fed up with adults' silly questions. "And I TOLD them. I don't 'member." While Jeremy was desperately trying to pry the truth from a little girl who could not remember, the nurse was checking in on the comatose form of Lynnette Bailey. She sighed after taking her vitals and said, "Oh, Lynn... it wasn't supposed to happen this way..." and as the nurse morphed into his true form of Jeremiah Smith, he laid his hand over Lynette's ravished face. "I give you strength again, Lynette," he said as the healing process began. "I give you strength to save your daughter."
Back to the present "I wish I could tell you more," Starkweather told Scully. "My dad questioned me, but I had no answers. Later that morning, my mother had miraculously woken up. Dad put us all on a plane the next day and brought us back to Pearl Harbor. A little while later... Dad found me reading a book. Scully, I hadn't even been to *school* yet and I was *reading*." "What were you reading?" Scully asked. "'To Kill a Mockingbird.'" "What???" "I was six years old and I was reading a novel that high schoolers struggled with. Not only was I reading it, I was comprehending it." Starkweather bolted up from her seat and began to pace. "Scully, I wish I could tell you what happened. I've... I've always known I wasn't like the other kids. But I could never explain how and it really never factored in very much because I was a military brat. We moved around so much. Fitting in didn't matter to me because I knew in a year or two, we'd be moving anyway. "When I first met Mulder face to face, he alluded that he thought that I was experimented upon. Of course, I reacted with style and grace," she said sarcastically. "I'm surprised you didn't hit him." "I'm surprised I didn't shoot him." Starkweather stopped pacing. She hugged herself and looked at the carpet, back to Scully. "Scully... the alien thing... I just don't know. I... I have trouble swallowing it. But... the more and more involved I get in the X-Files, the more and more I believe that in our own country, land of the free, home of the brave, crimes are being committed against our own people, in pursuit of a greater technology that ethically and morally we have no right to." "The Super Soldiers?" "PLEASE don't call them Super Soldiers," Starkweather whined. "I think of the Power Rangers when I hear that and that kind of takes away from the seriousness of the situation." "What do you suggest we call them?" Scully asked. "Anything but THAT," Starkweather bitched. Sitting down again, she said to Scully. "The truth isn't just in the X-Files, Scully. It's in Charlie and my mother's journal." "Reyes and I are going through it with a fine tooth comb but we aren't finding anything that's a solid clue of who did what they did to your mother," Scully said. "That's not what Mulder was hinting at," Starkweather said. "The descriptions in your mother's journal fits the profile of a typical alien abductee, but it gives no locations, no names, no... no anything. Mulder believes that your mother's journal is proof of her experiences, but it gives nothing away of where this happened or who did it." "Great," Starkweather said. "Another freakin' dead end. THANKS MOM!" she said, looking up. Then, eyes narrowing, she said. "Scully, my father gave that disk to you and Mulder, correct?" "Yes." "How do we know it's the real deal? How do we know it's not a fake?" Scully shook her head. "Mulder, Reyes and I have gone around and around about this as well. They are convinced it is real." "And you?" Scully's blue eyes locked with Starkweather's hazels. "I believe it's a fake," she said. "That's why you've been procrastinating in giving me a copy." "I'm sorry, Jerilyn," Scully said. "But I didn't feel it was right to give you something that we don't even know is real or not and like I said, some of the passages are horribly graphic." She paused. "There is an English professor at the University of Virginia. He has helped the FBI in cases before with handwriting analysis. If you have a copy of your mother's writing, he can compare and contrast." "I thought Dad had typed up Mom's journal in Word Document and saved it to disk." "He did, but this professor can examine sentence structure, spelling errors, things like that. He's very very good. He's helping the Bureau right now analyze the threatening anthrax letters some of the senators have received since September 11." "Let's not talk about September 11." Starkweather said, getting up again. "I do have something, but I want it back." "Of course." Starkweather disappeared into her bedroom and returned quickly, carrying a brittle envelope. Scully could still smell the perfume the author had scented the paper with. "Chanel No 5?" "Mom's perfume," Starkweather said, with a smile, holding the envelope out. "Be careful with it." Scully gently took it. "I will." She stood up. "I need to get home." "Yeah, and I need to get to work on this presentation for the Skin-man." "Get some sleep, Jerilyn." "Sleep?" Starkweather snorted. "Ha."
In Scully's car Before going home, Scully unfolded the paper and began to read: "Dearest child: As I write this, I sit beside you in your plastic crib in this dark hospital. The doctors have told me that you will not live through the night, that it was a miracle you survived so far but it would be a blessing for you to go now. Well, I don't believe that. It is not a blessing for you to go now when there are so many wonderful things in this world. Yes, life is pain, no one more knows that than me. But life is wonder and beauty. And hope. And love. And I don't want you to go before you can experience wonder and beauty. Hope and love. I want to be able to see bright blue skies. And red roses. Daisies and orchids and all the flowers the earth produces. I want you to be able to go to school, dance at your high school prom, meet the man you are destined to marry. I want you to have love in your life. I pray right now that you are at least experiencing love right now for even though you are not blood of my blood or bone of my bone, I feel and give a love to you as if you were my child, and I've only known you for twenty-four hours. As I write this, I beg God to make you well. Well enough for me and my husband to take you home with us. And if God wills it, and if you'll have us, we would be honored to be your parents. And if you'll have us, I then give you your first gift from us as your parents, a name. I believe a name should mean someone, should be symbolic, should be precious. Therefore, I give you the name of 'Jerilyn', a combination of your father and my name. I give it to you with the hope that when I call you Jerilyn, you will call me "Mom." When you are old enough to understand, I will give you this letter. Perhaps on your wedding day. But someday, you'll read this letter and we'll laugh about how weak you were and how I was afraid you were going to die. But instead you defied the doctors and the world and became the lovely young woman I picture you being in my mind. Sleep now, my little angel. I'll be here in the morning Love Scully sat in her car, sobbing.
December 6, 2001 On of the perks of having a photographic memory was that it really cut down on production time. While Doggett, Scully, Reyes and even Mulder to some degree, had to pull out the casefiles and notes when putting together their field reports, all Starkweather had to do was begin to type. She only needed the files for the photographs that she scanned into the Power Point presentation. After Scully left, she dove into the blessed escape of work for about two hours before collapsing on the couch and sleeping until her treacherous body, used to it's five AM risings, woke up before her mind was awake. And so she drug herself up, put on her warmest workout clothes and went on a quick run before returning to the apartment to get showered and dressed for work. She spent most of the morning putting the finishing touches on the presentation. Being with the X-Files was definitely beginning to rub off of her for she saved the presentation to her hard drive on her desktop, the hard drive of her notebook computer, to two diskettes and on CD-ROM. She knew how things liked to 'disappear' in the X-Files office. After that, she finished up her field report and turned it. Before she knew it, it was three o'clock. She had a meeting with her stepmother, the Honorable Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey on Capitol Hill. So she packed up her bag and ran out the door... The weather in Washington DC was bitterly cold that day and it nearly took Starkweather's breath away as she hurried to make her appointment with her stepmother. Just as she was on the steps of Capitol Hill, somebody grabbed her arm, "You need to come with me now," a familiar voice hissed in her ear as he turned her around and started walking her down the stairs. "Lux, you better let me go," Starkweather hissed right back at him. "I didn't give you that serum to treat Charlie," he said as he put his arm around her shoulders companionably as they walked down the street. "I gave that to you to treat Mulder." "Mulder and Charlie are suffering from the same ailment. Charlie's case is just more pronounced and if you think for one hot New York minute I'm just going to let someone suffer when I have the means to help them, then you REALLY don't know me as well as you think you do, Lux," she struggled to break free. "So if you don't mind, I have an appointment with my stepmother." "You must not have gotten the message," Lux said smoothly. "The Senator Bailey-Wesley had to break her appointment with you today, just as Senator Matheson had to break his with the good Deputy Mayor. And I wouldn't recommend you taking other avenues to present this drug to the FDA. We'll make sure the approval process gets tied up in red-tape for the next ten years." "WHAT? You son-of-a-bitch!" she snapped. "Why are you doing this? Who knows who else this can cure. This is a modern day miracle. It can not be utilized for Mulder and Mulder alone. *HE* wouldn't even approve of that."
"I can't explain that to you." "Of course you can't." "Jerilyn, for the last time, stay out of this. Just go chase ghosts and goblins with G-Poochie and forgot about all of this. Or else I'll have to find a way to make sure you stay out of this." "Like what?" "Like making sure the Bureau transfer you to New York," and he crossed the street, leaving Starkweather standing stock still on the sidewalk, beside herself with shock. She finally collected herself enough to pull out her cellphone. "Scully." "Scully, it's me, you won't believe what just happened." "Oh yes I will, I just got off the phone with Mulder." "Well, Lux just threatened to have me transferred to New York if I kept interfering." "Well, and Lux threatened Mulder that he would lose his position at City Hall if he tried to push the drug through the FDA." "God damn it." "Come back to my apartment," Scully said as she was driving home, William chortling behind her in his car seat as he played with his toys. "I'm going there right now." "I can't," Starkweather said, checking her watch. "I've got to run over to Spangle, Carter and Adams. I need to talk to a friend of mine there, to see if he'll refer me to a good divorce lawyer. I was going to go after meeting with Jenny, but I'm going to go now. I'll stop by later." "Okay," Scully said, hanging up. Starkweather did a one-eighty and started walking towards her husband's lawfirm.
Meanwhile... Baekjul Boolgool Do Jang December 7, 2001 She hadn't been able to sleep, so she left the small apartment the Syndicate set up for her and walked to the small Tae Kwon Do instruction hall or "do jang" in the native tongue to meditate and to practice her forms. She let herself into the traditional do jang she started attending, marveling how trusting some still were, especially in this sick sad world they lived in. She always made sure her doors were locked. The deserted school was pitch black, but she rectified that by lighting candles. She changed quickly into her uniform, tying her black belt with a jerk and stretched out. The Cancer Man had been wise in sending her on to Korea after her flight to London. It had been a welcome breather. It was a privilege to study her favorite form of martial arts in the country where it was created. She was already a fifth dan black belt, she hoped to be able to test for sixth dan soon. Plus it had been nice to totally immerse herself into another culture. Granted, she was on the receiving end of many stares being a lone woman with pale skin and blue eyes but she overcame that obstacle by mastering the Korean language instantly. For the most part, the natives left her alone, which was what she desired. She still didn't like Korean cuisine but other than that, she was doing fine. But the itch was coming back for she was not a woman who liked to stay inactive for very long. She wanted to get back to work. As she practiced a variety of kicks and punches, she heard her cell phone ringing in her backpack. Barefoot, she padded over to it and pulled the phone out. "Yes?" "Bravo," a familiar rapsy voice said, "Where are you?" "At the instruction hall where I work out, why?" "Go back to your apartment," The Cancer Man said into his cell phone, a day behind her as he watched from his car Starkweather walking down the street towards the Law Firm of Carter, Spangle and Adams. "One of my own will be there to take you to the airport in one hour." That was all the notification she needed. She didn't even change back into the street clothes, she just slipped her sandals back on. As she blew out the candles, she said, "What is happening?" "The fools at the Syndicate," he snarled. "They've decided to dispose of Mulder once and for all." "What's the problem?" "They want it to be a public execution." "Are they stupid???" Bravo exclaimed as she shut the door behind her. Walking down the street back to her apartment she said. "When is it supposed to happen?" "Tomorrow." The Cancer Man paused. "Or in your case, today, as it's already December 7 over there."
Meanwhile... The Law Firm of Carter, Spangle and Adams Starkweather let herself into the busy lawfirm. She devoutly hoped Stephen Cello was there and Ben wasn't. She walked over to the receptionist's desk. "Hello Noelle," she said pleasantly. Noelle looked up from her typing. "Oh, Mrs. Starkweather, I didn't see you, you must have snuck in," she said, automatically reaching for the appointment book. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Starkweather is in court right now, is there something I can help you with?" Starkweather opened her mouth to tell her that she was actually looking for Stephen but she paused when a wisp of Noelle's perfume reached her nose. "That's a nice scent you're wearing," Starkweather said blandly. "What is that? Jasmine?" "No, sandalwood," Noelle said. "It's all I wear." "It's nice. I like it," Starkweather said. "Can you give a message to Ben for me?" "Sure." "Tell him I'll be waiting for him at the apartment," she said coldly as she turned her back on the receptionist and walked out. Noelle watched her leave, then got up from her desk. She knocked on the door to Ben's office. "Come on." Noelle let herself into his office, closing the door behind her. "Ben," she said in a soft voice. "She figured it out."
Later... "Well Mrs. Starkweather," Veronica Sita said, settling down behind her desk. "I'm glad to see you again, but not under this situation," she said sympathetically. Starkweather, along everyone else, had inadvertently helped her get rid of the crooked founder of their lawfirm, Roald Schabasser. Once his death had been confirmed, Veronica, along with the other legal partner, Elena Gillian, had gleefully taken Schabasser's name off the firm and hired a new lawyer, the lawyer Veronica was recommending to Starkweather to handle the divorce proceedings. "She's already made partner, that's how much confidence we have in A'Dee's work, Veronica said, handing her A'Dee Hunter's business card. "I apologize that she's not here right now, but she's in court. But I guarantee you she'll make sure you get everything you deserve in the process." "I'm not looking for alimony," Starkweather said. "I recently came into an inheritance due to the death of my father." "But your husband may think he's entitled to more so we need to protect your assets Mrs. Starkweather, or will you be reverting to your maiden name of Bailey after this?" "Um... no, everyone knows me as Starkweather, it's going to be too confusing professionally if I change my name." "Okay..." Veronica continued to take notes. "Any other joint assets? Checkbook? Credit cards?" "Checking, yes. Savings, no. Credit cards, yes." "Property?" "No." "Vehicles." "A piece of shit car he can keep and a motorcycle." "Children?" "No. No children... that's part of the problem." Veronica tactfully ignored Starkweather's last comment. "Are you sure about the alimony?" Veronica asked gently. "Trust me, I'm a lawyer and I live in DC... I KNOW how much lawyers make and I KNOW how shitty the Bureau pays you guys." "I don't care about the money," Starkweather said bitterly. "I just want out of this. If I could go to Vegas right now and get this done, Ms. Sita, I would. But I'm needed here." "What grounds are you divorcing Mr. Starkweather on?" Tears pricked her eyes. It took her a moment to whisper out "Irreconcilable differences."
Two hours later Ben and Jeri's apartment Jerilyn Starkweather stalked up the stairs to her apartment. She let herself in quickly. Caesar wound himself around her legs. "Not now, baby," she admonished the cat as she darted to her bedroom to begin packing. It didn't take her very long at all to put together her luggage. She changed out of her suit and pulled on a pair of faded Calvin Kleins and a purple sweater she got on sale at the Gap during one of the few times she went shopping. She took down the cat carrier from the shelf in their closet and carried that along with her backpack, her purse and notebook computer case. She set her bags and cat carrier down by the sofa with a thud. Stood there for a moment, staring at the bags. Debated. Then turned on her heel and went back to the bedroom. She flipped open the jewelry box and pulled out her wedding ring. She took a deep breath and put it in her pocket. With the damn lawyer fees, she may need to hock it. She went into the kitchen, fed her cat and made herself a salami and cheese sandwich on rye. She ate half of it, downing it with a tall glass of milk. After throwing the rest of her sandwich away, she plopped herself down on the couch and waited for Ben. Caesar jumped into her lap, purring loudly. She didn't have to wait long, Ben walked into the door about fifteen minutes after she sat down. "So," Jerilyn said coolly. "How long have you and Noelle been... friends?" When Ben didn't reply, she batted her eyes and said. "Pot, kettle, black, what???" "Noelle and I have been friends for a while now," he said. "I see..." Jerilyn said. "Should I be getting an AIDS test based upon the 'friendliness' of your relationship?" Ben glowered at her. "We didn't start sleeping together until a few weeks ago. You and I haven't made love in over three months." "Oh that just makes it all better, doesn't it," she snapped, getting up. Caesar leapt off her lap. "You hypocrite," she hissed at him again. "You goddamn hypocrite." "Get off your high horse right now," Ben shouted at her. "Right now Jerilyn. I am so damn tired of being the bad guy." "You cheated on me, that doesn't exactly put you in the role of the hero." "It does after being married to *you*." That sally stung but Jerilyn recovered by saying "And you fucking hit me last night."
"That was an accident Jerilyn. I didn't mean to throw you against the wall," Ben lashed back. "If your goddamned rednecked knight in shining armor hadn't tried to break my arm, I probably would have apologized right there." "If memory serves, you threw the first punch at my so-called goddamned rednecked knight in shining armour who just happened to stop by the apartment to collect me on official FBI business." "Official," Ben sneered, reaching for his briefcase. "Official. Yeah... right..." he opened his briefcase. Starkweather saw a VHS tape but what Ben pulled out was a manila envelope. "Official my ass. My ass, Jerilyn," he threw the envelope on the coffeetable. "You take a gander and tell me everything in that envelope is 'official.'" Jerilyn stared at the envelope in dread, remembering that night in Carillo's office, before Charlie had been apprehended in her apartment building, when Carillo showed them the files his crooked ex-partner Somerset had been keeping on everyone involved with the X-Files. She remembered that picture of her and Doggett at the nightclub in Sioux City. Glaring at Ben to mask her shaking hands, she reached for the envelope and took out the pictures. Her eyes widened in horror. Not only was the infamous photograph of Doggett and Starkweather kissing while working undercover at the nightclub included, but several several others. There was one of Starkweather asleep in the arms of what looked to be Doggett but actually was actually time-traveling quantum physicist Dr. Sam Beckett. There was one of Starkweather being kissed on the forehead by Sam-in-Doggett. There was one of her, in a tight tank top and short shorts, leaning into Doggett's surveillance car in front of the radio station they investigated in Sioux City. There was one of them in the bar at the Washington Marriott, where she was trying to hold Doggett back from hitting that uber-bitch Andrea Nowark. There was one of them standing outside of the Irish bar they meet all of Doggett's old friends from the NYPD, two days before fall of the World Trade Towers. One was from all the way back to their first case in Scotland, she was walking down the street in her bare feet, carrying her shoes with Doggett beside her. <<That was right before we went back to where Interpol was storing the wreckage of the American fighter plane>> she remembered. <<When Doggett was telling me to stop being a lone soldier, to trust the others, to trust HIM.>> And the very last one was of them walking out of the Star Dust Sleep Inn, Doggett had his arm around her very protectively. "New ones keep coming everyday," he said flatly. "I wondered how you knew about the Star Dust, but you know about pictures being worth a thousand words." "Ben..." Starkweather said wearily. "These pictures... they prove nothing... they're... taken out of context. The one of me and Doggett kissing... our suspect was there... we didn't want our cover blown." "Yeah, and I'm sure cried all night about having to kiss him," Ben retorted. "Jerilyn... you look at me with a straight face and you tell me you aren't in love with him." "WHAT?!?!?" she spat out at him. "What kind of 'Young and the Breastless' soap opera bullshit question is that???????" "You look at me and tell me you aren't in love with him." "What is making you ask that?" she demanded. "Because of these stupid pictures??? And even if I was head-over-heels with him, how does that excuse YOU for sleeping with another woman????" "You obviously didn't see the two hotel receipts," Ben sidestepped her question. "Two hotel receipts. Two rooms. Each room holding two people. At the Hotel Jurassic Park on the lovely La Isla Luna Blanca, the receipts SAY "Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather" but I don't remember being there. And in New Jersey... why you didn't let a national disaster stop you from closing out of your room to stay with *him*." he couldn't even say Doggett's name. "And gee, you two were in New York for over a month and a half. What DID you two do there, *Mrs.* Starkweather?" he demanded. Coldly, she said "You want to know what we did in New York during that time? Well, while Doggett was interrogating possibly suspects, I was crawling around Ground Zero, digging through the rubble for bits of bone and teeth. Anything that would have a DNA marker so that we could identify the victim and give confirmation to the victim's loved one that he or she is truly gone. And do you know what we did on our offtime? When I wasn't sleeping, I was trying to put my father's affairs in order, terrified that once I had him legally pronounced dead, he was going to walk through the doors. And Doggett... Doggett was literally going to a funeral every damn day. Those bone fragments? Those teeth I found? Those could have been his friends I was digging up and putting into Ziplock bags. They STILL haven't found ANY remains of his best friend in the whole wide world. He died just like my father did. Without a trace. And you have the audacity to stand there and assume that Doggett and I would do the mattress mambo under those horrible conditions??? Ben, words can not make you understand how AWFUL the whole experience was. Is. I can NEVER go back to New York. EVER. I still have fucking nightmares of the people jumping out of the Towers. And you piece of shit for a husband think that I was sleeping with my co-worker that entire time???? And therefore justifying you sleeping with your SECRETARY??????" "Noelle and I have been friends for a long time, Jerilyn! I didn't plan on sleeping with her, that was an accident." "AN ACCIDENT??? What, did you penis ACCIDENTALLY fall out and go inside of her?????? Explain to me how you accidentally sleep with someone?" "Tell me how you can be in love with John Doggett and still be married to me?" "The marriage part is easy enough to rectify." "So you are in love with him?" "That has nothing to do with ANYTHING," Starkweather exploded. "Even if he and I were written in the stars to be together forever, it doesn't matter because I met YOU first, I fell in love with YOU first and I PROMISED to be with you FOREVER. Til death does us part, WHY is that so hard for you to understand????? Why can't you TRUST me??? I NEVER slept with Doggett, never WILL sleep with Doggett..." she covered her face with her hands. "I don't understand why you're doing this. Why you're so jealous all the time," her voice cracked.
"Get off your soapbox," Ben said coldly. "You did this to yourself. Maybe you're hot for Father Time, maybe you're not. I'm not jealous of him. Because there's something you love more than him or me. And that's your god fucking damn career. You love being Agent Starkweather more than Mrs. Starkweather. It's not my jealousy that destroying this marriage Jerilyn. It's your fucking ambition that killing this marriage just as it was your fucking ambition that killed our baby." Jerilyn took her hands away from her face. Hate radiated from her witchhazel eyes. "What if," she said, voice just as cold as his. "What if I told you that maybe I lost that baby not because of my god fucking damn career but because someone was poisoning our water supply because they were trying to kill me. Because of who I am. Because of WHAT I am. What do you think of THAT, Counselor?" "I want a divorce," Ben replied. "Done," Jerilyn snapped. "My lawyers are already drawing up papers." She knelt down and beckoned to the cat. "Caesar, baby, come here," she grabbed the cat and put him in the carrier. "You are not taking the cat." "Watch me, asshole." "Fine. Then I keep the car. You can have the motorcycle," he said, then adding cruelly. "Since you and Mulder beat the hell out of it last summer." "Mulder and I beat the hell out of your motorcycle coming to save YOUR sorry ass," Jerilyn had the final word. "I wish I would have left you in that warehouse to burn." She grabbed her coat, her bags and the cat carrier and stalked out, slamming the door. Ben slumped into the chair and started to silently cry.
Later... Monica Reyes stepped up to the counter. She pulled the list out of her pocket. "Sorry," she said, smiling, trying to read Mulder's awful handwriting. "One Frank roast... I think that's supposed to be French roast... one French roast, black, grande... one short cappuccino and one double caramel latte with whipped cream... and sprinkles," she decided for herself. "To go. Please." "Comin' up," the bored coffeeshop attendant said, clicking his tongue ring against his teeth. The bells above the door tinkled. The kid with the tongue ring looked at the customer said "Hey, miss? Like we don't allow animals here." "Fuck you," snarled a very familiar feminine voice. Reyes turned around and saw Starkweather struggling with a backpack, a purse, a notebook computer sack and a cat carrier. "Jerilyn," Reyes rushed to her to help her with her burdens. "Where have you been? Scully has been trying to reach you." "Oh shit," Starkweather closed her eyes. "The meeting at her apartment. I totally forgot." Twin tears slipped out of her closed eyes and down her cheeks. Tears forced out by stress, exhaustion and desolation. "Can I get a ride with you over there?" "How did you get here?" "Walked until I hit a bus stop." "Jerilyn, what happened tonight?" "It's over," Starkweather's voice cracked. "Me and Ben. We're done." "Oh Jeri," Reyes said sympathetically, digging into her pockets for a tissue. Not finding any, she reached down and ripped a few napkins from the dispenser on the table. Caesar yowled. "Hey, like, if my boss shows up, you know, I'm gonna get in trouble if he finds out like a cat's here?" "Shut up and make my coffees!" Reyes barked at him. "Whoa, okay," the kid said, turning his attention back to his job. "We got into this awful fight, worse than anything we've ever have before," once she started crying, Jerilyn couldn't stop. "Somebody gave him all these pictures of me and Doggett that made it look like we were... that I... because of those pictures, Ben thought Doggett and I were getting it on so he started sleeping with his fucking secretary," she wiped her eyes, devoutly grateful the coffeeshop was devoid of any other customers. "And of course, he had to throw it in my face one more time that it was my fault we lost that baby..." "What???" Reyes didn't know the story. Starkweather looked up at her, "See, about a year ago, we found out we were going to have a baby. Ben was thrilled. I wasn't. I was in the middle of this case... a big drug raid. Ben begged me to ask to be relieved of the case. He was afraid I was going to get hurt or the baby would get hurt. Well, I didn't... but the raid was a bust and we lost two agents because of the agent of record's massive ego. In the fight, I was pushed down a flight of stairs. A week later I miscarried the baby. And Ben was convinced if I hadn't gone along on that bust, I wouldn't have miscarried." Reyes didn't care that Starkweather normally wasn't a touchy-feely kind of girl, she crossed over and hugged her. "I'm sorry," Starkweather said. "I'm sorry. I don't... I shouldn't dump this on you..." "It's okay Jerilyn," Reyes said firmly. "You're supposed to dump things on your friends. Someday, I may have to dump something on you." She looked at her luggage. "Where are you planning on staying?" "Oh," Starkweather broke away. "A hotel that allows for pets." "Stay with me," Reyes said. "I have lots of room. And my landlord won't mind Caesar, will he Caesar?" she said, sticking her fingers through bars of the carrier's door. "Don't!" Starkweather tried to warn her but it was too late. "OW!" Reyes jerked her hand away. "He bit me!" "He doesn't like strangers." Then in the first time in a long time, Starkweather giggled. Then laughed outright. "I'm sorry..." Reyes stuck her fingers in her mouth. "Me too," she said after finishing sucking the blood off the cat bite. "Well, can't see where vampires get off on this kind of stuff." She smiled. "Let me take you to my place. I'll go over to Scully's and explain your absence." She walked back over to the cashier. "How much?" The kid with the tongue ring had tears in his eyes. "It's on the house," he said, pushing the coffees towards her. "I haven't seen a scene as beautiful as that since my girlfriend forced me to watch 'Steel Magnolias'." Fingers still bleeding from Caesar's kiss, Reyes mumbled a thanks and took the coffees.
December 7, 2001 "... so when Agent Scully discovered that it was an illegal radio frequency causing the cerebral disorder where the victim must keep moving or else he would succumb to the pressure built up in his head and die, she theorized that she could relieve the pressure by inserting a long needle, through the ear canal, into the brain, releasing the built up fluids. However this theory was not to be tested, as the hijacker Agent Mulder was trying to save, perished." Starkweather flipped to the next slide, showing the stolen car coated with blood. "All was not in vain, however. Thanks to Agents Mulder and Scully's albeit unauthorized although extremely valuable efforts, countless lives were saved. Perhaps even a busload of doe-eyed children." She smiled sweetly at Kersh who bristled at her backwards comment made at his expense. Starkweather was dressed for success and strength. She wore her long hair swept up in a French chignon. Small pearl earrings decorated her ears. She wore a beautiful creamy white suit with a wheat-colored silk blouse and suede high-heeled loafers. She was also wearing a lot more makeup than usual, not that it looked tacky, just unusual for Starkweather who usually only dabbed on some powder and lipstick, calling it good. This morning, she did the full makeup routine, concealer, foundation, eyeshadow... mostly in hopes of distraction everyone else how red her eyes were. She also kept her wire-rimmed reading glasses on the entire time. The medal of St. Christopher was around her neck and her wedding ring was on her finger. She did not want the top brass to know that her personal life was distintergrating as she lectured to them the importance of the X-Files.
"Gentlemen," she said seriously, looking at each man in the face. The Director. Kersh. Skinner. A sundry of other men that composed the senior ranks of the FBI. And finally at her partner, dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt and a black, gray and silver striped tie. Who was sitting silently in the far back in the room. "There are literally hundreds upon hundreds of cases such as these. Granted, the X-Files is notorious for being the FBI's dumping ground for the weird. However, no matter how weird the case may be, how unbelievable, how extreme. The point remains. These are crimes. These are crimes committed against American citizens that we as agents for the Federal Bureau of Investigation have a responsibility to investigate and to bring to conclusion to the best of our ability. As agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation we have more than just responsibility to pursue the perpetrators of these crimes. It is our duty, our calling. We would be doing a great disservice to the victims if we just left these files untouched, to molder away in the basement just because of the nature of the case. How different is the case of the man who harvested the hair and fingernails of prostitutes any different from Jeffrey Dahmer? You say you it is impossible to believe in aliens. Ghosts. Vampires. Well, gentlemen, about three months ago, we thought it would be impossible to ever be attacked. Now we have holes in the earth were the Twin Towers stood to prove us otherwise. How different are those victims from the victims of the crimes that the X-Files investigates? Do they not deserve justice? These victims are just like you and me, they have rights just like you and me, no matter how bizarre the crimes committed to them are. "We have four dedicated agents in the Division. Plus, we have the luxury of having on retainer on of the best profilers in the business who has have over a decade’s experience dealing with phenomena. I understand how tight the budget is now. I understand the issues of nation security we are dealing with now. What I do not understand is how the Bureau could even contemplate shutting down a branch that has demonstrated within the past five years a massive rise in the apprehension rate and a substantial rise in the case closure rate. Our rate of improvement has surpassed the rates of VICAP. Yes, we are a little division and at times... an expensive division. However I can assure you gentlemen that the money invested into the X-Files is not a waste. At most, crimes do get solved and accused get their day in court. At least, the families of the victims knows that someone is looking into their tragedy," again looking at Kersh. "Which generates good publicity for the Bureau, always a good thing. "In conclusion," she said, this time addressing the crowd while looking at the Director. "I hope this presentation provides you with the knowledge of why we all... myself, Agent Scully, Agent Reyes," here her eyes flicked towards his direction for just a moment before turning back to the director. "Agent Doggett and to some degree... the Deputy Mayor of Washington DC, F. William Mulder are so passionate of what we do. Yes, it's a little more... exciting at times that we care for it to be. However, we have a job to do. We made a vow, as federal agents, to the find the Truth behind the crimes committed, no matter how those crimes are committed. And to bring the guilty to justice. We ALL," she looked pointedly again at Kersh, "promised to do just that. And we in the X-Files Division ARE doing just that. Questions?" "So how did Agents Mulder and Scully get off of Antarctica?" asked one assistant directors. Amid the chortling, Starkweather smiled. "Any OTHER questions? Questions I can actually answer?"
After the meeting... "You wanted to see me sir?" Starkweather asked. Skinner invited Starkweather to sit. "You did well, Agent Starkweather," he told her. "I was very impressed." "With all due respect," Starkweather said with a half-smile, "I was hoping to impress everyone else." "Between you, me and the fencepost, I think you blew them out of the water," Skinner said approvingly. "I don't think we going to have to worry about you or Doggett being transferred anytime soon." "Sir?" "What I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential. You breathe a word of it and I'll call you a liar to your face." "Yes sir." "I just spoke to the Director about Doggett. As you know, unless an opening comes up for a Deputy Director spot, which isn't going to be anytime soon. Which I don't want anyway. I'm looking at mandatory retirement in about a year and a half. I have expressed my wishes to the Director that I want Agent Doggett to take my place. In short, Agent Starkweather, you are probably going to be losing your partner within a year and his position is probably not going to be filled. Plus there's still talk of transferring Scully to Quantico. In the end, it's going to be you and Reyes, with Doggett as your supervisor." Starkweather looked up at Skinner. Perhaps still smarting from Ben's accusations from the night before made her ask the following question: "Is that a warning, sir?" "Yes," Skinner said flatly. "I see." "Discretion, Agent Starkweather, is the greater part of valor," he told her just before he dismissed her. Doggett was waiting for her outside of Skinner's office. "Hi," he said. "Hi," she replied. "You did good, Doc." "Thanks," she said faintly as they walked to the elevators. Once in the elevator, Doggett commented, "You're wearin' a lot of makeup." "I'm a girl," Starkweather reminded him. "Girls wear makeup." "Not girls like you," he reminded her. "And you don't wear your glasses all the time and your weddin' ring's back on, so what's the deal?" he asked her as the doors slid open. "What're you hidin'?" "You weren't at Scully's last night?" "No, I couldn't make it, I had to meet with an insurance adjuster 'bout my truck and it was the only time he could meet with me. What happened?" Starkweather slid her ring off. "It's over. I drew up papers yesterday," she put the ring in her jacket pocket. "Ben was definitely cheating on me, he justified it by assuming I was cheating on him with you. He assumed I was cheating on him with you because someone was so thoughtfully giving him surveillance pictures of us. Together. Not together like that... just... well, it looked really bad," she finished. "Oh Jesus," Doggett groaned. "I'm sorry..." "This isn't your fault. If Ben trusted me just one little bit, this wouldn't be happening. And besides Papa John, this isn't exactly a surprise. You know that I've been thinking about ending this farce of a marriage for quite a while now." "Yeah... but..." Doggett looked at her. She looked up at him, her hellcat hazel eyes staring into his own crystalline blue eyes evenly. "I just wish this didn't have to happen this way Doc." "I wish a lot of things," Starkweather told him in a whisper. The elevator opened up and Scully stepped out. "Agent Starkweather." "Morning Scully." "How did the presentation go?" "Good," Starkweather said, walking with Scully to the office, with Doggett following, therefore starting the day.
Meanwhile... The Lawfirm of Carter, Spangle and Adams Noelle came into Ben's office. "You wanted to see me?" she asked. "Close the door Noelle," Ben said gruffly. Noelle complied and sat down. "I talked to her last night." "And?" "It's over," Ben said, shoulders slumped. "She was one step ahead of me as usual. She's already drawing up papers." Noelle sat very quietly in her chair, debating with herself. "Ben..." she said in a small voice. "I have something I need to tell you...
Meanwhile.... Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean "Ma'am?" the flight attendant asked. "Would you like anything to drink?" Bravo lifted her head from the novel she was reading. She was wearing a short, dark brown wig, brown contact lenses and black spectacles. She wore a slim black sweater, charcoal leather pants and a silver chain belt around her tiny waist. She also was wearing shoes that made her appear three inches higher. "Tea would be lovely if you have it," she said in a flawless British accent, the many silver bangles on her wrist jangling. "We have hot tea and iced tea, which do you prefer, ma'am?" Bravo selected the hot tea, Earl Gray, no sugar, a twist of lemon and finally managed to get rid of the flight attendant. Although she appeared to be sipping tea and reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo' she was a nervous wreck on the inside. From Seoul to Bangkok to Rome to London each one of her flights had been delayed, thanks to the new security measures being enforced since the September 11 attacks in the United States. She kept sneaking peeks at her antique silver watch. The Cancer Man wanted her to stop Mulder's assassination. Although she personally thought getting rid of Mulder was a step in the right direction, she knew she would do whatever the CSM wanted her to do. If he wanted her to stop a Syndicate sanctioned murder, so be it, she'd do it, she'd stop it. The problem was, she didn't know if she was going to get to Washington DC in time to stop it. <<Better start thinking of a Plan B>> she told herself as she thumbed through her very boring novel.
The X-Files Office Starkweather's phone rang. "Starkweather." "Hurricane!" "Spooky," Starkweather sniped back at Mulder. "You got the wrong extension," she said, looking at Scully, immersed in typing her report. "Actually, I wanted you." "Ew, that's gross." "Jerilyn, we're not in Arkansas so trust me, I do not want you like *THAT*. I was actually making the monumental attempt to be kind to you, baby sister. I was going to invite you to lunch." "Who's buying?" "The City." "Can we go somewhere fancy? I've had a real shitty week." "Can you meet me at City Hall at eleven-thirty?" "Yeah, that's not a problem," Starkweather said after checking her planner. "Can you fill me in on what you guys talked about last night? I'm sorry for not showing up, but..." "I was planning on bringing you up to speed," Mulder reassured her. "That's the main reason why I want to meet you for lunch." "Oh gee, you mean it's not because you want to spend quality family time with me?" "I'd rather eat broken glass." "That might have hurt my feelings if I valued your opinion." "And if you had feelings." "Bite me." "See you later, Jeri." "Bye Mulder." Back at Ben's office Ben stared at Noelle incredulously after she finished telling him her story. "I trusted you..." he finally croaked out. "I know," Noelle wept. "I'm so sorry Ben..." Ben glared at her. "If you are truly sorry, you'll do something for me." "Anything!" Ben opened his briefcase. Took out the VHS tape he confiscated when he and Jerilyn were cleaning out the Admiral's tape. "Put this tape away, somewhere safe. I don't know what's on it, but the Admiral concealed it so it must be important. And... if something happens... to Jerilyn, or me get that damn tape to someone in the X-Files... I don't care if it's even John Doggett." He glared at her. "You owe me at least that." "I know..." she sniffled. She watched Ben grab his coat. "Where are you going?" "To City Hall," he said grimly. "I got to see Mulder."
The X-Files Office Scully breathed a sigh of relief when Starkweather had left to meet Mulder. She felt like she was choking on the tension in the room. Neither Doggett nor Starkweather were saying much, which was unusual for normally they were picking on each other like crazy. Besides, she liked having the office to herself once in a while. Doggett had left a few minutes before Starkweather to see if he had any friends left in the CIA... or at least friends who weren't trying to kill him... that could shed some light on Lux Carlos's activities. Reyes was at the asylum, working with Charlie. It wasn't that Scully didn't appreciate her teammates, she just appreciated having 'alone time' more so now that she was a mother than ever before. She so appreciated her alone time, she even resented the phone ringing. "Scully." "Agent Scully," Bravo whispered into her cellphone, crammed into the airplane's ridiculously small bathroom. "Listen to me. After I get off the phone with you, you need to contact Mulder." "Why?" She was instantly suspicious. "Because there is a car filled with hitman armed to the eyeteeth, waiting for him to leave City Hall. They're ordered to shoot to kill. You need to tell him to stay inside until you can get a police escort." "How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Scully demanded. "These men will be dressed in gang regalia, driving in an nondescript stolen Bravo SUV. Tan in color, no plates. These are hit men *I* trained, Agent Scully. They aren't going to miss-" But Scully had already dropped the phone and was rushing over to Starkweather's desk to call Mulder's cell... ... that he had left on his desk when he went down to meet Starkweather...
The Steps of City Hall "Damn," Mulder muttered, feeling the pocket of his coat. "Forgot my phone," he sighed. He debated about going back up to his office to get it, but then he saw Starkweather walking towards him. He waved and Starkweather jogged up the steps. "Hey," Mulder said when she made it to him. "You look nice today... what's with all the makeup?" "What is it about men and makeup?" Starkweather sighed. "How are you holding up?" Mulder asked seriously. "This sucks," she said matter-of-factly. "But what am I supposed to do? He won't listen. He won't trust me. I can not be married to someone like that." "For what it's worth, Jerilyn, I'm sorr-" Mulder started to say but then looked up. "Shit." Starkweather turned around and saw Ben running towards them. "Go away," she told him... En route to City Hall... "Scully, this better not be a damn snipe hunt," Skinner said. "We just had a two hour meeting with the Senior Staff on why the X-Files is valuable to the Bureau," Skinner growled, looking in the rearview mirror at the two police cars following him. Scully wished he's drive faster. "Sir, with all due respect, with everything that's happened to me and Mulder during the past few years, we can not just take threats light-" Suddenly, Skinner's police scanner squawked: "ATTENTION ALL UNITS, ATTENTION ALL UNITS. SHOTS FIRED AT CITY HALL REPEAT SHOTS FIRED AT CITY HALL. AGENT DOWN. FEDERAL AGENT DOWN. ALL AVAILABLE UNITS REPORT..." "Shit!!!" Skinner swore as the squad cars behind him turned on their flashing lights and sirens. Skinner put the metal to the pedal as Scully began to pray. <<Agent down...oh God... Starkweather...>>
Back at City Hall... "Mulder," Ben pleaded. "I need to talk to you." "I really doubt you have anything of interest to tell me," Mulder said in his most maddening monotone. Ben looked from Mulder down to his future ex-wife who was now standing beside Mulder and in front of him. And when they stood side by side like that, there was no denying they were from the same bloodline. They had their arms crossed the same, their pouty lips clenched tightly in the same frown. Even their hazel eyes had flared into that strange yellowish color ringed by fire, the color their eyes changed to whenever they were lividly angry. "Then let me talk to you Jerilyn," he begged her. "I think enough was said last night," she said coldly. She looked up at her older brother. "Mulder, let's go, pleas-" There was the sickening sound of tires squealing and people screaming. Mulder, Jerilyn and Ben all turned their heads to see a tan SUV hurtling down the street, men dressed in black, with black ski masks over their head, hanging out of the windows with semi-automatic weapons in their hands, weapons pointed up... ... at them... And they began spraying bullets at the steps of City Hall. **TO BE CONTINUED**
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