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Title:Starkweather: Meum Mel III Nothing Else Matters Category: Mytharc Rating: R Disclaimer: Do I have to go through this again??? Oh okay **sigh**... all characters from the "original" X-Files television show are owned lock, stock and barrel by the benevolent Chris Carter who has not, to my knowledge anyways, sued any fanfic writer for borrowing his creations. All other characters, especially Special Agent Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather MD, belong to me. So there. : P Author's Note: I have inserted an extra year in between s8's "Existence" and s9's "NIHT". The only thing off continuity-wise is William's age. Summary: Part Three of the Meum Mel mytharc trilogy. Or look up the old message board threads: Introitus: http://forums.prospero.com/foxxfiles/messages?msg=48869.1 Or if you're lazy, and trust me! I can relate - the next post is a Cliff Notes of the entire saga thus far, which pretty much brings everyone back up to speed. :) Enjoy!
Starkweather: Meum Mel III Nothing Else Matters By Scully3776
Things just keep getting better and better for our basement crew especially for the latest recruit, Dr. Jerilyn Starkweather, who joined the team last April despite the reservations of her husband who did not want to leave his hometown of Minneapolis to move to Washington DC. Teamed up with her new partner, John Doggett, her first mission with the X-Files nearly killed her as Scully and Mulder, newly inducted as the Deputy Mayor of Washington DC after his fall from grace out of the Bureau, discovered that she had some strange mysterious link to Mulder's past. (Introitus) The mystery is solved later that summer when Dr. Starkweather's husband disappears because he got too close to the Truth when his law firm assigned him to prosecute the Galpex Oil Company, specifically, the oil rig that Mulder and Doggett accidentally blew up. Thanks to the help of a time traveling quantum physicist named Dr. Sam Beckett and his hologram companion Al, it is discovered that Starkweather is actually Mulder's half-sister, as they share the same father. Mulder and Starkweather at this time cannot stand each other, so they were not thrilled, especially since Mulder was framed for the disappearance of Starkweather's husband, Benjamin. However, Mulder and Starkweather got over their differences and with a little help from Scully, Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, a illegal alien named Manny Ibarra and Sam, who's soul was in the body of Doggett, Ben was recovered and the Syndicate's plans where thwarted. However, Ben was returned to them for a price. Starkweather learned that her dearly loved adoptive father, the Admiral Jeremy Bailey had been a part of the corrupted Syndicate and had lied to her about her origins all these years. (Quanta) The more and more Doggett and Starkweather worked together, be it undercover at a radio station (Frequency Modulation) or on a jungle remote island (Rex Tremandae), the more and more threatened by their relationship Ben became even though Starkweather desperately tried time and time again to convince him that she was committed to their marriage. Ben desperately tried to believe her. On Halloween, the day after Doggett and Starkweather returned from being temporarily assigned to the New York Field Office to assist with the aftermath of the September 11 attacks (One Nation), a deranged woman who uncannily resembles Starkweather attacks and murders a liquor store owner. The next day, Doggett, Scully and Reyes apprehend the woman in Starkweather's apartment, but only after the deranged woman, Charlie, viciously attacks Reyes and another woman, cloaked in black, shoots Doggett in the chest. Doggett survives because of his bulletproof vest. The woman in black escapes but Doggett admits that her voice was similar to Starkweather's. Mulder theorizes that perhaps these look-alikes could be part of a genetics experiment as Starkweather herself may have been. Starkweather is less than open-minded to the possibility, but the physical similarities between she and Charlie cannot be denied. Meanwhile, Mulder's health begins to deteriorate, showing the same symptoms he had experienced a few years ago after being exposed to a piece of alien metal believed to be from a spaceship (The Sixth Extinction) While in Arizona, packing up her adoptive father's house because he had been killed in the Pentagon attacks on September 11, Starkweather is approached by an old lover, Lux Carlos, who deserted her to join the CIA. He gives her a serum that can control Mulder's illness but not cure him. This serum comes with a price; the CIA wants Mulder to join them. Meanwhile, while going through the Admiral's library, Ben finds a very mysterious videotape... Starkweather tells Doggett, Scully and Mulder about the serum. Scully insists on testing it to make sure it's safe. When Reyes arrives at the lab, Scully and Starkweather make the discovery that Mulder and Charlie are actually suffering from the same ailment. Scully gives Mulder the serum and Starkweather and Doggett to Charlie. Both are temporarily healed, but must take the serum again if the symptoms reappear. The doctor in charge of Charlie's case balks because she learned that the serum is not approved by the Food and Drug Administration and threatens to report their actions to the Bureau. However, Starkweather pleads with her to compromise, not to go to the Bureau and that they won't give Charlie anymore of the serum until it's approved and approval will be easy because she can push through legislation with the help of Mulder's old contact, Senator Matheson and her stepmother, Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey.
Starkweather, because of seeing Ben's car at a motel when he told her he was in Falls Church visiting a colleague, suspects he has started cheating on her. Her suspicions are confirmed when she smells the perfume of Noelle Goodhall, the receptionist/legal aide that works at Carter, Spangle and Adams law firm, a perfume she had smelled before in her apartment. Before visiting a different law firm to draw up divorce papers, she is again confronted by Carlos who tells her she shouldn't have given the serum to Charlie and to not bother with the senators about FDA approval because if she does, he will make sure it gets tied up in red tape for years and that she would also be transferred to the New York Office. Starkweather returns home to confront Ben. He confirms that he and Noelle began a relationship but he justified his adultery with his suspicions of hers, confirmed of surveillance photographs of Starkweather and Doggett together. Starkweather tries to explain to him that the pictures are innocent but he disbelieves her. They get into a fight and Starkweather leaves him, staying "I wish I would have left you in that warehouse to burn." The next day, because she missed a meeting at Scully's apartment concerning the situation of Charlie and Carlos, Mulder calls Starkweather from work and invites her to lunch so he can fill her in on what she missed. Starkweather agrees to meet him on the steps of City Hall. When Starkweather leaves, Scully receives a cryptic phone call from the woman in black with Starkweather's voice - Bravo. Acting on orders of the Cigarette Smoking Man, she tells Scully of a Syndicate sanctioned assassination on Mulder. They are to fire the minute he steps outside City Hall. Scully tries to reach Mulder but he had left his cell phone on his desk. She gets Skinner and they rush to City Hall with backup. Meanwhile, Ben is also rushing to City Hall. After telling Noelle that his marriage is over, Noelle tears up and says, "I have something to tell you something..." After hearing what Noelle had to say, Ben realizes he must inform Mulder. He gives Noelle the videotape he found, ordering her to hide it and if something happens to him or Starkweather, to give it to someone in the X-Files Division. "I don't care if it's John Doggett," he says as he storms out. Mulder and Starkweather are less than receptive to Ben's presence. Starkweather tells Ben to leave. Ben begs them to listen to him but then out of nowhere, the assassins that Scully was warned about drive up to City Hall and open fire. Mulder dives for cover, but takes a bullet to the arm. Ben pushes Starkweather down and although she escapes unharmed, Ben takes the brunt of the attack and dies on the operating table. The X-Files agents attempt to console Starkweather after her devastating loss, but only Reyes is able to get through to her. After Ben's funeral, his older and bitter sister, Mary Paula Christie creates a giant scene by accusing Starkweather of being unfaithful with Doggett. After a battle of words where Starkweather was victorious, Doggett brings Starkweather back to the hotel where Mulder and Scully invite them downstairs for a drink. While in the hotel lounge, Ben's paramour, Noelle Goodhall appears. She confesses to the agents that she was not who she seemed, that she was really Felitza Covarrubias, full sister to the nefarious Marita Covarrubias and half-sister to a woman named Samita Saint-Claire, who bears a striking resemblance to Agent Starkweather. Felitza tells the agents that Samita is indeed Starkweather's half-sister as well, that they share the same mother, but different fathers. She gives them the VHS videocassette tape that Ben instructed her to give the X-Files team. Mulder cons Doggett into buying a VCR and the agents watch the video, a home movie that Starkweather's adoptive father the Admiral Jeremy Bailey made, detailing the Eden Project, a secret genetics program headed by the Syndicate. When Jeremy was a struggling sailor in the Navy, the Cigarette Smoking Man approached him to be in charge of security of the Eden Project, a top-secret genetics program where surrogate mothers carried genetically altered fetuses. While there were several different fathers, the Cigarette Smoking Man, the Well Manicured Man, Deep Throat and Bill Mulder were amongst the sperm donors, all the ova came from one woman. Although Jeremy was confused as to why he was recruited, he soon learned why: the ova were harvested from his wife, Lynette, who was a multiple abductee. Bill Mulder's child, "Echo" was initially kept separate from the other test subjects. But when "Delta", the Well-Manicured Man's child, mysteriously disappeared, Echo was moved in her place. Driven by guilt for he had become attached to Echo, Jeremy agrees to help Deep Throat to get the infants out. The plan backfires and CSM escapes with Echo. Deep Throat persuades CSM to leave Echo with the Baileys. Lynette accepts the child as her own, but has no idea that Echo, now renamed Jerilyn Michelle Bailey, is really her own child. Shaken by this revelation, Starkweather withdraws into herself. A few weeks later, after Christmas and before New Year's, she finally brings herself to clean out Ben's office... After speaking to Margot Rogeux-Brandybuck, a lawyer at the Law firm of Carter, Spangle and Adams, about her half-sister Charlie who was charged with the slayings back in October, Starkweather acts on a hunch. She gets a search warrant and goes to Noelle Goodhall/Felitza Covarrubias apartment. The apartment is trashed, there is fresh blood on the carpet and Felitza is gone. After a task force is mobilized, the X-Files Team learns that at the same time Starkweather was knocking on Felitza's door, Samita Saint-Claire, aka "Delta" was kidnapped forcibly from her home. Surveillance pictures show Samita and Felitza in Hawaii, four hours after Samita was taken from her Virginian home. Scully and Reyes are assigned to go to Hawaii and investigate. Although they discover nothing in the official investigation, Reyes, acting on her own feelings, go to Starkweather's childhood home and discovers one of her mother's diaries. Skinner sends Doggett and Starkweather on a secret mission to the Black Hills, South Dakota, based on a tip that the Eden Project was based there. Doggett and Starkweather leave immediately. Mulder, while everyone was away, tries to tie up loose ends. He approaches Starkweather's stepmother and persuades her to give her the rest of Lynette's journals. She refuses. Then Lux Carlos, the CIA agent and Starkweather's former lover finally gives him an offer he can't refuse, twenty-four hour CIA protection for Scully and William. Mulder joins the CIA but already regrets his decision when Justin Leo waltzes in and detonates a bomb in the Starkweather’s' old apartment complex as Mulder is overseeing the men moving Starkweather out of her old place she shared with her husband... Carlos admits to Mulder that there is a traitor in the midst, that it could very well be Special Agent Reyes for when she was young and naive, had run "errands" for the Syndicate because Alex Krycek conned her in believing they could help her find her natural parents. Mulder then deducts that the traitor is actually the Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey, Starkweather's stepmother. He confronts her as she's destroying Lynette's journals. She admits that she had been feeding information to the Syndicate because she is the adoptive mother of Lily Stratford aka "Alpha." She said that when she learned that Lily was still alive, she vowed she would do anything to keep her child alive, including selling out her stepdaughter. Based on the information the Senator gave her, the Cancer Man contacts Bravo and updates her on the situation. She follows Doggett and Starkweather to the Black Hills. To their mutual delight and discomfort, Doggett and Starkweather grow closer during that brief time in South Dakota. They put their feelings on hold when they discover the Eden Project. First, they discover the bones of the surrogate mothers. Then they discover the Eden Project lab itself and find it's still up and running. The agents decide to destroy the lab instead of trying to bring it to justice. Right before setting the lab ablaze, Starkweather takes a file labeled "Mulder, William Christopher S, DOB: 3-7-01" and she and her partner barely escape four Super Soldiers sent to kill them. Then they barely escape an assault from Bravo herself, who, although the same height and weight as Starkweather, is as strong as Doggett. They are saved by what appears to be Alex Krycek but in reality is Lily Stratford, who has the ability to "morph." Mulder calls Scully and Reyes and tell them to get on the first flight back to Washington DC quickly. While on the plane, Reyes reads aloud from Lynette's journal. The name "John Michelle" pops up throughout the entire journal. Both agents agree the name is significant, especially since Jerilyn's middle name is Michelle. After a harrowing horseback ride down the mountain and back towards civilization, Doggett and Starkweather find safety in a Holiday Inn. After treating Doggett's injuries, Starkweather falls asleep and has a horrifying dream, symbolizing her guilt over her feelings for her partner while recently embracing widowhood. Starkweather and Doggett make it back to Washington DC safely... Or so they thought... May 14, 1999 He tried to keep his head down, not to make himself obvious. His greatest talent was to disappear in the crowd. And dressed in the demeaning uniform of a bus boy, gathering empty drink glasses and wiping down the tables, he knew the guests of honor wouldn't notice him. Especially the bride. She wouldn't recognize him anyway. Not with his long dreadlocked hair and goatee. None of the other guests noticed him either. He was scenery, like the tulle and the flowers. The candles and the tablecloths. Everyone was too busy eating and drinking and admiring the happy couple. "She really is a wonderful girl," crowed the father of the groom, already getting tipsy. "We're thrilled to have her become a Starkweather. You should be proud of her." The father of the bride, dressed in the solemn formal whites of the Navy nodded. "I am," he said, in a voice thick with emotion. "I am." The deejay, bored and opulent, took out his microphone and in a voice far more attractive than his appearance, suddenly crooned out "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?" When the crowd settled enough, the deejay announced, "Please direct your attention to the dance floor as Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Starkweather open this wedding reception with the first dance. Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather? To the dance floor please?" Lux Carlos ignored Ben in all of his tuxedoed glory; his eyes were glued to the bride. The one time he could stare and not draw attention to himself. And stare he did at the tiny feminine figure, clad in white satin, a filmy fairy-tale dress, so not her style and yet so fitting. He had a sneaking suspicion that either her stepmother or mother-in-law picked out the dress, but the headpiece was pure Bailey, a wreath of roses. No veil. <<You look good, Bailey-girl>> Carlos thought sadly as he watched her smile grandly at Ben, bowing before her as if he was Fred Astaire and she was Ginger Rogers. But she didn't seem to be Ginger, she seemed like Grace Kelly, which amazed Carlos, for she was not the princess type. She was far from ugly; she had a cute face and a fantastic figure, but most people did not think she was beautiful. Until they fell in love with her. <<Get over it Lux>> he told himself sternly as the first guitar strains of their wedding dance played. <<You blew it. You chose this...>> He then casually lifted his eyes to the man he had been sent to monitor. He laughed along with the crowd and applauded whenever they caught the bride and groom sneak a kiss, but he kept his hands in his pockets. Carlos frowned and balancing the dish tub on his hip, meandered near the table next to the stranger and began to clear it. "I need to talk to you," Carlos muttered to the man with his hands in the pockets. The music was by Metallica and screaming loud yet achingly beautiful. "Can it wait?" "No." "Give me five minutes." Back of the hotel, the man paced impatiently until Carlos came out. He jumped when he heard the cock of a gun. "Jesus, Carlos," Jeffrey Spender spluttered. "You have a lot of balls coming here," Carlos pointed the gun at his head. "A wedding party, full of federal agents. The fucking BRIDE a federal agent herself... Jesus, you are dumb." He shook his head. "I told Rohrer we shouldn't have wasted time protecting your stupid ass." "You don't understand," Spender pleaded. "I didn't have anywhere else to go, my own god damned black-lunged bastard of a father SHOT me in my own office of J. Edgar." "It's not your office anymore... never was your office to begin with," Carlos said coolly. "Oh, hey, got some news for you too, your buddy? Diana Fowley? She's dead." After enjoying the stricken look on his face, still icy, Carlos asked, "So, how were you planning on killing Dr. Bailey...oops! I mean, Mrs. Starkweather?" "Wh-wh.. what? Carlos, I don't..." "Oh shut up," Carlos said wearily. "We know you've been in communication with Krycek and Covarrubias. We know that in order to receive absolution you've agreed to wipe out any remaining traces of the Eden Project. You were gonna blow the girl away to save your sorry cracker ass from your daddy's wrath. Jesus, you're a loser." "You don't understand," Spender seethed. "That girl is not human." "Shoot..." Carlos plastered a shit-eater's grin on his handsome face. "I slept with the girl so I already know THAT." "That's not what I meant and you know it," Spender pointed his finger at Carlos. "She's an abomination. A monster. A freak. She should have never been created. Don't you get it!!!" Spender was nearly hysterical now. "She can bring the downfall of civilization!" "Jerilyn??!?!?!" Carlos stared at him. "Granted, she's a bitch, but I highly doubt she's capable of the destruction of the universe, no matter how hotheaded she gets." "Not Jerilyn herself... her children. If she ever reproduces-" "Okay, you know what," Carlos said, bored now, "I'm missing a damn good party and it's pissing me off, so drop to your knees nice and slow. And then lay on your belly..." "Carlos please..." Spender pleaded but he complied. Being nearly killed at close blank range destroyed a lot of his courage and integrity. Carlos spoke into the tiny radio transmitter on his collar. "Rohrer, I need you." "On my way." A few minutes later, Agent Knowles Rohrer of the CIA appeared with two other men. "Got everything on tape, Carlos," Rohrer told him. "We'll take it from here." He snapped his fingers and the two men in black jogged up and snatched up Spender, who instantly started to scream. "Where... are you taking him?" Carlos asked in dread. Rohrer stared him down. "Don't ask." He then sighed and told him, "It's not as if he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Working with Krycek and all. Besides... Jerilyn's safe now. That's all that matters." He thumped Carlos companionably on the shoulder and walked away. "Yeah..." Carlos said, leaning against the brick wall in the alley, alone. "That's all that matters..." Nothing else matters.
January 1, 2002 "So now what," Doggett asked Starkweather as he got her luggage out of the luggage claim. "I think we should call Mulder," Starkweather said. "And tell him what we saw. Plus, I do have SOME fragments of evidence that needs to be analyzed. Plus I still have the file, ow, dammit," she rubbed her jaw again. "After I go to the hospital and see if I can get some painkillers for my mouth," she mumbled, forcing herself to speak slower. "And you need to get a tetanus shot and have that rib checked out." She took her suitcase from Doggett. "And then I'm going to go get my kitty, take a hot bath, drink an entire bottle of Jack Daniels alone and feel sorry for myself the rest of the night. You?" "Sounds about the same as my plans for tonight, minus the kitty and hot bath." "Well," she said, shy now. "You could come over and borrow my kitty if you wanted to." "Doc, your cat hates me." "He hates everybody, don't take it personally." Doggett chuckled and he just happened to look over his shoulder while he was saying, "Yeah well..." he did a double take. He sucked in his breath. "Starkweather, start walking," he said lowly, taking her hand and starting to move, casual, yet quick. "Why?" What's going on?" "We're bein' followed." "By who?" "Just keep goin'," Doggett said. "We can lose 'em once we're out of the airport. I've got my truck in long-term parki-" Two more men in black suits materialized out of nowhere. Doggett and Starkweather took a sharp turn to the left, as if they were heading for the restrooms. Then they were cut off at the pass by what appeared to be federal agents but they knew damn well they were not feds. "Agents Doggett and Starkweather?" The man in black asked formally. "Who wants to know?" Starkweather snapped. "You both need to come with us now," the man grabbed Starkweather by the wrist, out of Doggett's grasp. Two more men in black seized their luggage while another man in black started to walk ahead of them, yelling out "Move aside, FBI! Move aside, Federal agents!" "Hey now, wait just a damn minute!" Doggett fumed as two more men in black grabbed him by the arms and started to escort him. Starkweather looked up and her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of the badge he held. The general public wouldn't know any different, but to her trained eyes, it was an obvious fake ID. She began to struggle against her escort. "Don't make me handcuff you," her escort sighed. Meanwhile Doggett's escort lifted his black blazer just enough to show his gun. "Don't make a fuss, Mr. Doggett. And Mrs. Starkweather's escort is equally equipped." "Doggett," Starkweather twisted around to look at him. Her guide jerked her along roughly. "Just do as they say for now," he called back to her. Starkweather stopped struggling but she glared at him. "What do you want? Who are you?" she demanded. And thought: <<And what fresh hell is this???>> As they were herded out of the airport, they were flanked by two more "federal agents." Doggett couldn't even see his petite partner; she was completely surrounded by men. As if she was a lethal criminal. <<Oh Christ>> he thought in horror as his arm and ribs throbbed in pain. <<What if they think she's Bravo?>> The same thought must have crossed Starkweather's mind because he could hear her barking at one of the men in black, "Look, I am a god damned federal agent! If you stop for five seconds and let me show you my ID, any misunderstandings will be cleared up." "Ma'am, anything you say can and will be used against you." "Oh fuck me...." she groaned and started struggling again. "Doggett," she cried out hoarsely. "They aren't real feds, they're - OW! You son-of-a-bitch, let me go..." The man to Doggett's left casually opened his blazer again and Doggett's gut wrenched as he saw again the silvery 9MM Beretta with the silencer. "I strongly recommend you instruct your partner to simmer down," he said placidly. "Jerilyn, listen to me," he said frantically as they were lead toward the parking lot where a murky black Lincoln Town car with tinted windows, was waiting. Starkweather stopped fighting when she heard Doggett use her first name. He only called her that when he was extremely pissed off at her, or if it was vitally important that she listen. "What?" "Keep walking," the man behind her shoved her forward. She stopped and tried to turn around. "Listen you motherfucker, I am NOT goin- OW!" she cried out as the man holding her arm jerked her along. Still she kept abusing the man who pushed her "... piece of shit cheap suited fraud. You are going to see the gates of hell up close and personal when I'm done with you, you miserable cocksuckin-" Doggett's mind reeled on how to rely to her to shut up. <<Wait... she's bilingual...>> He tried to think of the right words <<Dammit, I wish I hadn't slept through Spanish in high school "Arma," he blurted out. "Arma." Starkweather frowned. <<Gun? Why in the fuck is he telling me 'gun' in Spanish...?>> Then she caught a ride on the clue bus. <<Gun. He's got a gun pointed at him... probably me too... fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkk.>> she stopped resisting them and shut up while thinking, <<Okay, and we're getting out of this... how???>> As one of men in black threw their luggage in the trunk of the car, Starkweather's escort threw open the passenger door. "Get in, you little pain in the ass." Starkweather's eyes widened when she saw the driver was pointing a gun at her but she still managed to quip, "No thanks, I prefer the 'No firearms' section." "Get in, Mrs. Starkweather," Doggett's escort pulled out his gun and pointed it at Doggett's head. Doggett sighed. "Just do it," he said helplessly. "Worse damn plug for Nike I ever saw," she grumbled as she climbed into the front passenger seat and Doggett's escort gestured to him to get in the backseat. Starkweather crossed her arms tightly as the ignition was turned on and the driver drove the car out of the parking garage, all while still pointing his gun at her. She lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror and saw the gun pointed at Doggett. "'Arma', huh?" she said to her partner. "I don't know Pig Latin," Doggett retorted. "Keep it down," the driver said. "Why?" Starkweather snapped. "You're going to kill us anyway. Might as well make the last moments memorable?" She started berating them. "Who are you? What do you want? Who do you work for?" The driver sighed but kept driving. "You could at least tell us what we're dyin' for?" Doggett muttered. "I'd feel better meetin' my Maker if I knew that I at least bit it for a noble cause." "Yeah," Starkweather chimed in. "I mean, come on. The bad guys in the movies always tells the good guys the reasoning behind their insane plot to take over the world right before they try to smoke the good guys. Of course, that's when the good guys overpower the bad guys and the crowds cheer," she said primly as she crossed her ankles, hoping they didn't realize that she had a snub-nosed Beretta in an ankle holster. <<Maybe if I can distract him for a moment...>> she had to fold her hands to restrain herself from reaching down and pulling her gun. The driver sighed. "This ain't the movies." Without taking his eyes off the road, he merged into traffic leading to downtown Washington DC. "That's true, you're too ugly to be a movie star, even if you're a villain," Starkweather injected as much nastiness as she could even though she knew her comeback was a weak one. The driver said to his associate in the back seat, "How did I get stuck on this detail?" "You lost in 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'." "That's right." "Oh great," Starkweather moaned. "We're being kidnapped by Laurel and Hardy. This is an embarrassing way to go." The man in the backseat turned to Doggett, "Does she ever shut up?" "No," Doggett snapped at him. "Hey!" Starkweather snapped back at Doggett. "What do you mean by that?" "Jesus," the driver said. "If we're Laurel and Hardy, then you two are David and Maddie from 'Moonlighting.'" "Like hell," his partner retorted. "They're Mulder and Scully all over again." "We are NOT," Starkweather took umbrage at that. So did Doggett. "Fuck you," he grumbled. "Uh-huh, sure, yeah riiiiiiiigggggggggggggggggghhhht," the driver rolled his eyes, putting his gun into his lap. He reached for his bottle of water that was sitting precariously in the cup holder. Starkweather's eyes gleamed. Lightening fast, she changed her tune. Coyly, she asked, "Could I have a sip?" she batted her eyes. "I don't want to die with a cottonmouth." The driver looked at her, startled at her sudden sweetness. "Knock yourself out," he said with a shrug, holding out the bottle of water. Starkweather reached for it and conveniently dropped it. "Dammit," she muttered. "I'll get it," she bent down and made the appropriate noises as if she was searching for the water. Then she rose back up, holding her little Beretta. "PULL OVER!" "Jesus fucking CHRIST!" the driver yelped. "Didn't you pat her down!" His partner cocked his gun and jammed it against Doggett's temple. "I'll blow your partner's brains out if you don't put that god-damned gun away!" he hollered. "You kill my partner, then I'll kill yours," Starkweather threatened. "And then you'll find out who the fastest shot is." "You're bluffing." "So are you," Starkweather leaned over and pressed the muzzle of her gun into the driver's jowl. "Pull over, or we all die." "I've played poker 'gainst her," Doggett said calmly, as if a gun wasn't being pressed against his skull, although he was wincing under the pressure of the muzzle cutting into his skin. "She's got a good poker face. I've lost a lot of money to that lady." "Pull the fucking car over," Starkweather hissed. "And let us out." "Jesus, Gus," the driver moaned. "You IDIOT!" his partner yelled back. "Don't say my name, you fuckin' twit! She's got a photographic memory!" "She's gonna shoot me!" "No she's not!" "Yes she is," Starkweather pressed the gun harder into his head. "Pull OVER. NOW." "I'm pullin' over." "The hell you are. Mrs. Starkweather," Gus, the man in the backseat safetied his gun and pulled it away from Doggett's head. "Listen to me. We're the good guys okay? We were instructed to stage a public kidnapping to throw the Syndicate. We're taking you both somewhere safe. That's is the truth." Doggett lunged for him and wrestled the gun away. Pointing it at him, he gasped out, "Bullshit," in a shaky breath. His side and his arm were killing him. He could only imagine how much pain Starkweather was in from the damage Bravo inflicted on her. Starkweather, however, was running on pure adrenaline so she was feeling no pain at the moment. She glanced out the window. "Let us out at the J. Edgar Hoover Building." "I'm gonna let them off," the driver gasped. "No, don't! Mrs. Starkweather, Mr. Doggett," Gus beseeched the agents. "Please let us take you to our destination. Keep the guns if they make you feel safer. But please, let us help you." "Who do you work for?" Doggett demanded. "I can't say," Gus said helplessly. "We were instructed not to say." "J. Edgar is less than four blocks away..." Starkweather snarled. "Would you chill out and stop being such a Hurricane for at least ten seconds so I can explai-" Starkweather cut Gus off. "Hurricane?????" she squawked. She stared at the driver in disbelief and slowly she pulled her gun away, but kept the safety off. "There is one person who calls me that..." her hellion hazel eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm gonna KILL him!!!" "You mean this whole thing is a SET UP!?!?!" Doggett looked murderous. "Was this whole thing a JOKE?" demanded Starkweather. "Was this whole thing set up by the Deputy Mayor?" As Gus groaned at his mistake, the driver said nervously. "Yes this was a set up. It's not a joke. And the Deputy Mayor did NOT set this up. He didn't even know we were coming for you. Otherwise he would have insisted on coming himself and that would have ruined everything." "Ruined what?" demanded Doggett while Starkweather muttered again, "I am going to kill him. I mean it this time, he's a fucking dead man." "I honestly am not at liberty to tell you," Gus said regretfully as Doggett pressed the gun into his temple now. "Mostly because we don't know. We are on a need to know basis. We were instructed to orchestrate a public kidnapping and then deliver you to our safehouse." He gulped. "Keep the guns. As insurance if you don't believe us." "Well, we sure as hell don't believe you," Starkweather muttered. "Can you take us to the Deputy Mayor?" "That's where we're headed," the driver said as the car cruised past J. Edgar. Starkweather looked over at Doggett. "Let's keep going," Doggett growled. "I smell a Mulder-stunt." Starkweather folded her lips and continued to point her gun at the hapless driver.
Later... After a deathly quiet car ride, the driver finally veered out of the busy Washington DC traffic and pulled into a parking garage, parking in the lowest level possible. Pulling out a cell phone, the driver dialed. After a moment, he said, "We're here." The doors of the tan Ford Taurus next to them swung open. Two Marines, dressed in battle fatigues stepped out. "Mrs. Starkweather, Mr. Doggett," the bigger of the two Marines said politely. "Step out of the vehicle and come with us." "I told you," the driver said. "We're the good guys." "And we apologize," the smaller but still stocky Marine told them. "But we need to blindfold you." he held out two strips of black cloth. "Oh fuck no," Starkweather told them, turning her gun on them. The stocky Marine sighed. "I told you she was going to be difficult." "How did we get roped into this detail?" the bigger Marine asked. "Lemme guess, 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'?" Starkweather snapped. "How'd she know?" the Stocky Marine wondered aloud. "It's nice to know major decisions are reached through use of a child's game," Doggett grumbled. "You know," Starkweather said as she got out of the vehicle, gun still pointed at the Marines. "It's been real, it's been fun, but it hasn't been real fun. So I think Agent Doggett and I are going to take our leave now." Doggett also got out of the vehicle, keeping his gun pointed at the Marines. "Come on Doc, J. Edgar's not that far from here." From the Chevy Tahoe parked on the other side of the Town car, two more Marines, armed jumped out. "Need some help?" one of the new Marines asked as the previous Marines pulled out their 9MMs and pointed them at the agents. "Oh shit," Doggett sighed, dropping his gun to the ground and raising his hands as Starkweather followed suit. "This day keeps getting better and better," Starkweather bitched as the Marine fastened the blindfold around her eyes. Once the blindfolds were in place, Doggett and Starkweather were led into the backseat of Taurus. The car started up and drove to God-only-knew. "Doc, that you beside me?" Doggett was aware there was only two of them in the backseat but wasn't one hundred percent sure who sat next to him. To his relief, a grouchy feminine voice replied "No, it's your other five-foot-three, blonde haired, partner." But he felt her small hand reaching for him, fumbling over his chest and thigh, searching for him. He took her wandering hand into his and squeezed once, gently. She squeezed back and interlocked her fingers with his and didn't say anything for the rest of the trip. Abruptly, the car ride stopped. The agents heard the car door opening and a gruff voice saying, "Okay, out." "Skinner?" Doggett asked. "Move, agents." "Holy shit, what is going on?" Starkweather demanded as she clumsily got out of the car, still blindfolded. Their blindfolds were removed once they were indoors. Doggett and Starkweather blinked to adjust to the bright lights of the very blandly decorated hallway. They turned around to find Assistant Director Skinner standing behind him, glowering at them. Behind Skinner were two more very unhappy looking Marines. "Sir, we can explai-" Starkweather started. Skinner cut her off. "Let's go agents." "Sir," Doggett asked quietly. "With all due respect, what in the hell is going on?" "Now, Agent Doggett," Skinner said just as quietly but ten times more forcibly. Stifling sighs, Doggett and Starkweather started walking straight ahead. <<Was it the AD all along? Was he slinging us into a trap?>> Doggett wondered. "Go in the door on the right," Skinner instructed the agents when they got to the end of the hall. Doggett opened the door and found an opulently decorated boardroom, a sharp contrast from the boring hallway they had just walked down. And sitting at the head of the long polished table, poring over paperwork, dressed in a beige skirt and matching blazer with a pale yellow blouse, was Agent Scully. Her cerulean eyes widened in horror when she saw her friends. "Oh my God!" she cried out, getting up, removing her glasses. "Jerilyn, your face!" she rushed over to examine her. In the rush of excitement, Starkweather had completely forgotten about the splotchy bruises on her chin and throat, a gift from her wicked half-sister Bravo. Who had given her a kick to the chops that should have killed her. All the adrenaline left her body now to make room for the screaming pain. Still she managed to spit out. "WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!?!?!" "Well," Skinner said, dismissing the Marine guards and shutting the door behind him. "When I said to bring back somebody's head. I wasn't expecting you two to raise the dead." "I don't understan- ow!" Starkweather exclaimed when Scully began prodding her wounded face. "Leave me be, Scully, I'll live. Doggett was stabbed last night." "What?" Scully now rushed over to Doggett. "Where? Let me see..." As Doggett shrugged off his coat, wincing as he did so, he asked, "Sir, where are we?" Skinner sat down. "CIA Headquarters. After Mulder's discovery last night... we felt it was the safest place for all of us right now." "All?" Starkweather asked, sitting down as well. Her legs were threatening to give way again. "Reyes, Mulder and William are here too," Scully filled her in as she removed Doggett's shirt. She gasped out in sympathy when she saw the gruesome black and blue marks on Doggett's side. "What happened?" Her eyes flicked over to his arm, saw the makeshift bandage. "Oh my God, who did this?" "Bravo," Starkweather said. "Same one who gave me this," she pointed to her face. "That doesn't make any sense," Scully said. "She was the one who tipped me off that a carload of assassins were on their way to kill Mulder." "She what?" Starkweather bolted out of her seat, her legs feeling better now. "Why would she do that? She seemed pretty insistent that she wanted US to die yesterday." "I... I can't explain why," Scully said helplessly as she prodded Doggett's poor side. "Ow," he complained. "Nothing feels broken," Scully determined. "But we can't be sure without X-Rays." "We could send him to Bethesda," Skinner recommended. "Under my personal supervision of course." "I'm not going anyway," Doggett snarled, the hardened New York accent overpowering the softer Southern side. "Until somebody tells me what in God's name is goin' on." "In a nutshell?" Skinner said. "All holy hell has broken loose." "That's nothing new," Starkweather contended. "This is," Skinner assured her. "Trust me, this is." "Why?" Starkweather's eyes flicked over to Scully, who was blinking her own eyes very rapidly. "Your stepmother," Scully finally said, bending down, picking up Doggett's shirt off the floor. "Betrayed us all." "How?" Starkweather asked, politely averting her eyes as Doggett put his t-shirt back on again. "Mulder wants all of us to be here, to explain what happened." "How did Mulder..." Starkweather started to say then snapped her mouth shut. She knew exactly how Mulder got mixed up in the CIA. Just then, the door swung open. Agent Reyes, carrying William, entered first, followed by the Deputy Mayor Mulder and... "Lux," Starkweather seethed. "You son-of-a-bitch." "Jeri, don't get pissed at me," Lux said coolly, but guiltily avoided her eyes as he smoothed down his tie. "It was his decision in the end." Starkweather balled her fist and charged for him. Doggett, with his long arms, was able to reach out and grab Starkweather's shirt collar. She gagged a little as Doggett reeled her back in. "Cool it," he snapped at her. Eyeing Mulder and Carlos carefully, he drawled out, "Alright. Somebody better start talking. I want to know why that whole charade was played out. Havin' guns pointed at me kind of ruins my day." "What charade?" Mulder said blankly. Then he turned to Carlos. "WHAT charade???" "He made us think we were being kidnapped," Starkweather blurted out. "You WHAT!?!?" Mulder balled his fist. Carlos cringed. "MULDER!" Scully shouted. "Enough!" "Would SOMEBODY tell us what the FUCK is going on -- OW!!" she cried out as a jolt of pain radiated through her face after she finished speaking. "Wow," Mulder said dryly as everyone started to cagily walk towards the long table to sit down. "There IS a way to get you to shut up." Starkweather flipped him off as she sat down. Scully groaned at the brother-sister antics as Reyes handed her William. She kissed the back of his head and clutched him a little tighter than normal. He complained with a whine and Scully forced herself to loosen her grip on her son. Carlos stood at the head of the table and waited as the other two CIA X-File agents, Bonaventure Merchant and Satish Joshi entered the room. "Our apologies," Joshi said to everyone as he and Bunny took their seats. "Okay then," Carlos said. "This is why we had to take such extreme precautionary measures today." All eyes were on him. He was painfully aware of only one pair, a pair of hazel eyes that switched colors with her mood, set in a pretty, pale heart-shaped face. A pretty face marred by ugly bruises today. He owed her answers. Even though he addressed the entire group, his dialogue was primarily for the benefit for Starkweather and Doggett. He told them about Reyes's discovery of Lynette Bailey's journal in Starkweather's childhood home. Reyes shunted the journal over to Starkweather. Doggett frowned as he watched her trembling hands reach out to the voice of her mother, clutching the leather-bound book. He told them of Mulder's leap, how he figured out by the Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey's reluctance to release the rest of the journals into Mulder's possession, she had balked. When he told them about Justin Leo's hand in the destruction of Jerilyn's old apartment complex, she lowered her eyes and clutched the book just a little tighter. Then she looked up in shock when Carlos told them about the Senator's confession, why she had aligned herself with the Syndicate. "But..." Starkweather interrupted in a weak voice, "she never said anything about having a child... or being married before..." "The lady kept her secrets well," Carlos said grimly. "Where is she now?" her voice became stronger. "In custody although in all honesty," Carlos sighed. "We don't know what to do with her. Officially, she hasn't done anything that we could legally go after her for." "Since when did treason and espionage become misdemeanors?" Doggett asked. "When we can't prove it," Carlos said. "All she has to do is plead temporary insanity. And she's got the money and lawyers to pull it off. Then she'd go after Mulder for putting her on the spot." He sighed. "And you both came back alive. If you hadn't, we would have been able to go after her for accessory." "I don't understand," Starkweather's voice had weakened again, barely audible this time. Carlos had to look down at his portfolio, pretend that he was reading his notes. He couldn't stand to look at her, to see that hurt so plain on her face. "She said she contacted the Cancer Man as to what you two were up to." "How did she find out?" Starkweather asked. "One guess," Mulder said. "Kersh." "But how did Kersh find out?" Skinner demanded. "Nobody saw that file except for me." "We don't know who gave you that file," Carlos said. "Someone could have very easily given a copy to Kersh." "I thought it was you," Starkweather said. "No," Carlos told her. "It wasn't me." He continued to look down at his portfolio. "Agent Starkweather," he said formally. "Does the name, 'John Michelle' mean anything to you?" She shook her head. "His name," Reyes spoke up for the first time. Her voice, flowing and calm, had a soothing presence, despite the subject matter, "is mentioned several times in your mother's journal, especially when she writes about her abduction experiences." Reyes continued on, despite the dagger-like glare she received from Starkweather when she said 'abduction experiences'. "He sounds like an old flame or an ex-boyfriend. Are you sure you've never heard his name before?" "I really wish you hadn't read my mother's private thoughts before I had a chance to, Reyes," Starkweather continued to glare at her. If Reyes had been made out of glass, she would have melted under Starkweather's fiery glare. But of stronger stuff Reyes was made of. "I know," she said simply. "And I'm sorry. But you know I didn't have a choice. And you know you would have done the same thing if you and I were in reversed positions." Starkweather broke off eye contact. "I've never heard the name John Michelle before," she said. "As far as I was concerned, my fath- the Admiral," she corrected herself, "was my mother's first, last and only love. At least, that's what she told me." "Agent Starkweather, Agent Doggett," Carlos continued with formality. It was easier to deal with Jerilyn as a professional. Professionalism desensitized him. "We need to know what happened in South Dakota." Doggett and Starkweather looked at him. "Go ahead," she said. "My jaw's starting to hurt again." So Doggett began to tell everyone the pertinent information of their fateful trip to the Black Hills. He told them about the nine skeletons in the cave that Starkweather determined were female and murdered. He told them about Starkweather falling down the hole and ending up in the conference room. He told them how everything looked new. He told them about going down the stairs and finding the lab. He left out the part of finding a file with William's name and birthdate on it. They hadn't had a chance to study it yet. It was still tucked away in the hidden pocket of the coat Starkweather hadn't taken off yet. He didn't feel completely at ease in the presence of the CIA, mostly due to the fact that his so-called-friend Agent Knowle Rohrer screwed him over last year, royally. And then tried to kill him on top of that. Some friend. But he did go into detail about the Cray computer and the weapons room and the laboratory with the jars of deformed fetuses and babies. Scully turned green. Mulder looked at her sympathetically, but said and did nothing to comfort her. She was not speaking to him. Civilly, anyway. Doggett told them about the genetically altered monsters that looked like men who charged the labs and how he and Starkweather barely escaped with their lives. Joshi asked, "What happened to the lab?" Starkweather saved Doggett from having to tell a lie. "There was a fire," she said simply and everyone left it at that. After Starkweather's willful exchange of misinformation, Doggett explained how they ran out of the lab only to be attacked by Bravo. "She kicked Agent Starkweather in the face and then she came after me. She recognized me from when me, Agent Scully and Agent Reyes stormed Agent Starkweather's apartment building to apprehend Charlie." Everyone in the room turned to stare at Starkweather. "She KICKED you?" Mulder said, incredulously. "How?" Carlos said, concern and fear widening his big cocoa eyes. "It looked like," Doggett thought for a minute, "like some martial arts move." Carlos took off his suit jacket. "Did it," the second dan black belt asked him, "Look like this?" He then performed a flawless roundhouse kick. "Or this?" he then re-chambered and executed a front snap kick. "The second one," Doggett said. "The jump front snap kick," Carlos demonstrated for them, then sat back down, still staring at Starkweather. "Is the board break technique for high green belts to graduate to blue belt in some Tae Kwon Do schools... Jerilyn.... she delivered that kick to you **face**?!?!? That should have killed you." "Maybe she didn't put full power into the kick?" Starkweather couldn't understand why Carlos and Mulder were staring at her so strangely. She felt extremely uncomfortable. She hated feeling like the bug under the microscope. Carlos explained his reaction. "The average board thickness," he said cautiously "is the same as the human rib. Plus Bravo is an assassin. Pure and simple. She doesn't kill because she has to. She's not impoverished, she's not insane, she's not blackmailed. She kills because she likes it. I'm guessing she was fairly pissed off when you got up and walked again." Mulder however remained silent. His photographic memory was taking him back to a case all the way back to 1993. The year Scully came to him. They were investigating the strange deaths of two men who were exsanguinated and consequential abduction of their daughters. Teena Simmons and Cindy Reardon. Two eight year old children who had never met until Sally Kendrick took them away but they "just knew" who and what they were. Killers. At his insistence, Deep Throat had come to him with information about the Litchfield Experiment. A program where boys and girls were bred to become "superior soldiers" only to have the majority descend into homicidal and/or suicidal insanity. The boys were all called Adam... the girls... Eve.... <<The Eden Project>> Mulder thought as he continued to stare at his half-sister who looked nothing like the Eves from the Eden Project but had many of the same abilities... except the insanity. <<Ah, but Fox>> a treacherous voice whispered to him. <<She WAS insane, when she was a very little girl. She was mysteriously cured when someone or something took her and Lynette away.>> The little voice, the little voice that kept him honest when Scully wasn't around... or wasn't talking to him... continued. <<And Charlie was insane before Starkweather administered the serum to her... and I had been there, done that. Something happened to my body and my mind when I was exposed to the Black Oil. Only it took years to manifest. And still, only now, I am dependant on a drug to control the symptoms. Without it, I could very easily descend into the madness again. I wonder, if we took the remaining Eves and give them the same drug, would they regain their humanity, their compassion again?>> He remembered Deep Throat giving him an address of an asylum for the criminally insane. How he and Scully drove down there. How bad Scully's fashion sense had been back then, but then he was oblivious to women most of the time because he was still hung up on two lost loves. Phoebe Green, the Terror of Scotland Yard and Diana Fowley, aka the FBI's 'Fowl One.'" Scully could have dressed in Christian Dior back then and he still wouldn't have noticed. He didn't notice how beautiful she was until she sat beside him on his hospital bed and wept for her father as Luther Lee Boggs met his Maker for a second time. He remembered the screaming as he and Scully entered the dungeon where Eve 6 was kept. He remembered the guard shaking her head, saying, "She screams and screams if the overhead lights are put on. Nobody's gotten a good look at her." He remembered how Eve 6 clicked her teeth together after describing how she gnawed off the face of a guard. How she had meant that to be taken as a sign of affection. She told them how the Eves were prone to suicide. She told them how the Eves had extra chromosomes that heightened everything. Heightened strength. Heightened intelligence. "Heightened psychosis," Mulder had said. He continued to stare at Starkweather. She shot him back a look that clearly said: What the fuck do you want??? He looked away. If everything that they were saying was true... if Starkweather had been genetically altered like the Eves... she would have a denser skeletal structure and a higher performing muscle mass. Making it possible for Starkweather to walk away from that assault with only a sore jaw instead of a broken neck. Doggett, he also noticed, was very purposely NOT making eye contact with either him or Scully as he continued with his narrative. <<He's hiding something>> he thought, looking back over at Starkweather again, saw how she kept fidgeting with her coat. <<They're both hiding something. They found something else in that cave. And, to quote the venerable Agent Doggett, "dollars to doughnuts" that fire was no accident. I'm willing to put fifty dollars towards fifty bear claws and fifty jelly rolls that they started the fire on purpose. They destroyed the lab. Our only solid evidence of the Eden Project and they destroyed it. Why? Doggett is so by the books when it comes to investigations and protocol, it's annoying. And Starkweather firmly believes it is her job as a federal agent to protect those who cannot protect themselves. That her job does not involve pursuing vendettas, although that could have possibly changed with the death of Ben. What could possibly trigger both of them to act as vigilantes instead of federal agents?>> Like a Rubik's cube, he twisted the matter over until the colors became solid. <<Doggett has a soft spot for children.>> <<Starkweather is clinging to whatever family she has left now.>> <<Oh God, they found something about William.>> "... and then we got back to our original hotel and everything was destroyed," Doggett was just about finished with his report. "Everything?" Skinner asked. "Everything that had been left behind. We had taken the file and the map you gave us. And our badges, guns, money and airline tickets. As Agent Starkweather said," he looked over to his partner. "We've learned from our predecessors." Mulder and Scully shifted uncomfortably in their seats, both thinking back on all the naive times they had left evidence behind in their hotel rooms, their cars, their homes, their offices and assumed it would still be there later. "The hotel furniture and framed pictures were trashed. Our notebook comps were trashed," Starkweather spoke slowly. The pain was building up again. She longed for either a tall Jack and Coke or handful of Valium. "Some of our clothes were destroyed. The fuckers even smashed my reading glasses," she bitched, pulling out a mangled pair of what was once a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. "Can I write off my new pair as a business expense?" "After witnessing and documenting the damage to our rooms, we wasted no time in gettin' our asses back to Rapid City and catchin' the first flight to DC. Where we were intercepted by Mr. Carlos'... friends..." Doggett finished his narrative on a cool note, glaring at Lux Carlos, not liking him a whole lot at the moment. There was a moment of silence around the table. Finally Bunny spoke up. "No wonder the Syndicate is mobilizing now." "Yes," Joshi nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Lux, I understand now why you insisted on the kidnapping scenario. It was the right decision." Before Doggett and Starkweather could say a word, Satish Joshi addressed the agents. "You two have seen too much. In fact, I suspect you two have seen things that you for what ever reasons have not revealed to us." Doggett and Starkweather both met his gaze with perfect poker faces, but Mulder saw Starkweather's hand unconsciously fidgeting with the material of her coat. <<Whatever they're hiding, it's on Starkweather>> Mulder assumed his own poker face and made a mental note to have a friendly chat with his baby sister later. "They'll be looking for you both. With the kidnapping, we bought ourselves some time." "Probably at least a day or two," Bunny said. "At most. Until that Smoking Bastard takes control again and pushes the Project forward." "A day or two is all we need," Joshi reassured her. "For what?" Doggett asked. "For our first offensive assault on the Syndicate," Carlos told them gravely. "All this time, we've been on the defensive. Not this time. This time, we hit first and we blow a big hole in their organization. We won't be able to completely shut them down, but we can at least cripple them. And we can destroy at least one of their covert operations." "What operation?" Skinner asked. Carlos looked at Starkweather, then at William, playing contently with his mother's cross necklace. "One of the spin offs of the Super Soldier Program... we can stop the Eden Project." "How?" Mulder asked. Carlos sighed. "That's where you all come in..." "How?" Scully asked. "On December 29, 2001, Agent Starkweather followed up a lead which lead to the discovery of the disappearance of Felitza Covarrubias. That same night, Samita Saint-Claire and thirteen others, mostly women and little girls, were abducted. Photo surveillance places them in Hawaii on December 30. Last night, another prisoner was added to the collection, one Jeremiah Smith. This morning," Carlos walked around the table, handing out photocopies. "Yet another was added." "Oh my God," Scully breathed in as she held the picture out of Will's reached. "Who is that?" Reyes squinted at the blurry picture. Mulder told her flatly, "Gibson Praise." "As of 2:14 PM, Eastern Standard Time," Carlos returned to the head of the table. "We received a call from one of our trusted sources. All the abducted have been transported to a compound in Arizona." "Arizona," Starkweather muttered. "Well, at least we know now why the Admiral wanted to retire **there**." Doggett glanced over at his partner, his lips pursed in concern. He didn't like it how she kept referring to her adoptive father as "the Admiral" instead of "my father." Something was boiling in her big pressure cooker of a brain. She sure as hell suspected him of something, that was not a secret. But of what was anyone's guess. Doggett stifled a sigh. Starkweather had that same clouded look in her eyes as Mulder did just before the clarity of insanity took him and he made a "leap" into a theory that was only backed by the flimsiest of premises. Spider webs were often stronger then Mulder's theories. And yet... Mulder... and Starkweather... were often the butterflies that deftly avoided the sticky strands of the web and managed to soar higher, beyond the eagle's heights even. And it was Doggett's experience that it was always the bright and the beautiful the predators reached out towards. He turned his attention back to Carlos. "According to our source, the Syndicate is scrambling because the abductees, or "the merchandise" as they prefer to call their victims..." Reyes shuddered in revulsion. So did Scully and Starkweather. "... because originally, everyone was to be shipped to the main lab in South Dakota. Well... due to a little... mishap," Carlos grinned at Starkweather and Doggett. He knew that fire was no accident, but frankly, he didn't really care. "That lab is out of commission. Which ticked them off. Because to get to South Dakota from Arizona, they had to drive through a whole lot of nothing. Utah. Wyoming. Colorado. Nebraska. Doesn't matter what state they choose. Just as long as they avoid the major metropolises like Denver or Salt Lake City or Cheyenne or Omaha or Rapid City... it's nothing but rock, dust and the occasional coyote." "Aren't you concerned that they may try and fly out the victims?" Skinner asked. Bunny told him "The only good thing that's come out of September 11 is that air travel is increasingly difficult for the bad guys. You all heard the story about the crazy guy who had a bomb in his shoes and the passengers jumped him and beat him down. So commercial air travel is out. In the old days, before the war, the Syndicate used to be able to 'borrow' military equipment freely. Again, with the war in Afghanistan utilizing every ship, truck and plane possible, it's difficult for them to borrow a plane without too many questions being raised. Difficult, but not impossible," Bunny conceded. "But understand this too. With the attacks on the World Trade Center and on the Pentagon, the general population has become more alert, more watchful. A great example is the Des Moines International Airport. For whatever reason, they changed their flight patterns so the planes would land and take off at a different angle a few months ago. A year ago, nobody would have noticed or cared. When the change happened when it did, the airport and the Air National Guard were flooded with concerned phone calls because people perceived that the planes were flying lower as they cruised over the downtown area." "The tallest building and only skyscraper in Iowa, 801 Grand, is in downtown Des Moines," Starkweather, a former resident of Iowa's state capital, said. "People were probably concerned about a repeat of September 11 in the Midwest when they saw the planes flying lower." "And those are the key words right there Agent Starkweather," Bunny said with a nod of her head. "September 11. It forced us to notice odd things we would have blown off before. Which makes it difficult for ANY criminal organization to conduct business." "The Syndicate has been avoiding planes like the plague," Carlos said. "They've been relying on truck convoys. Which is why it surprised the hell out of us that they were in Hawaii, but it's been confirmed they're back in the Continental US. And panicking. Arizona isn't quite the expansive nothingness like Wyoming and Nebraska is." "Mostly because of the tourist trap," Reyes said. "The Grand Canyon." "Bingo," Carlos said. "Give the lady a gold star. Although the Syndicate stronghold in Arizona is secure, it's small. Too small for all the people they're holding. With the destruction of the South Dakota location, they don't have many choices as to where to transport the victims to." "Do we know where the potential locations are?" Scully asked. Bunny got up and pulled down a giant map of the Continental United States. "According to our source, there are three possibilities." She got a pointer and like an old maid schoolteacher, she droned. "There's a location here," she pointed to the very western tip of Texas. "Right outside of El Paso, very near the border. Or it could be here," she moved her pointer up. "Helena, Montana. That's a long shot. Mostly due to the fuss kicked up last year with the discovery of Absalom the Prophet's UFO cult and of Agent Mulder's mostly dead body." "But I feel much better now," Mulder droned. "Most likely it's going to be here," Bunny pointed to the most northern tip of Idaho. "Close to the border so they can flee if necessary and other than a few small towns... literally there is nothing there. Nothing to disturb their work." She folded up the pointer. "Not that it matters because no matter which route they choose, they have to go through us." "The CIA has a training facility in Arizona," Carlos said. "That's where we'll set up headquarters. According to our source, there's no way in hell we'd be able to assault their stronghold. To quote the source, "It'd be suicide to try." It's crawling with Super Soldiers. Plus they would probably kill all the victims while we were fighting to get inside. According to our source, it's best to attack the Syndicate head on, when they are transporting their merchandise." He took a breath. "I cannot express to you the severity of this matter. The Syndicate is planning on using the kidnapped women and children as test subjects for the Eden Projects. Felitza Covarrubias is probably scheduled for termination due to her treachery. Samita Saint-Claire, otherwise known as 'Delta' is probably going to be subjected to inhumane tests to study the end results of the 1973 Eden Project. As for Jeremiah Smith or Gibson Praise... to be honest, I have no idea how they fit in." "Gibson Praise's DNA was combined with the DNA of an alien," Mulder said. "He's telepathic. They never finished their 'research' with him," he continued bitterly. "He ran away and sought out myself and Agent Scully. To protect him." "And then the same time Agent Mulder disappeared," Scully interjected. "The boy was found in Arizona in a school for the deaf. Why he was there, I'll never understand for he was not deaf." "Why would he need speech?" Starkweather said. "He could hear their thoughts. If he was truly telepathic, of course." "He was," Scully said grimly. **"That's not what you thought. You thought 'butchers.'"** "And Jeremiah Smith, provided it's true that he can heal, could probably take away any adverse effects of the Eden Project," Starkweather continued. "Meaning?" For once Mulder didn't get it. But Doggett did. "The insanity. If it's true that this guy can..." he snorted, "heal, then he could theoretically heal a broken mind, right?" "It's possible," Mulder muttered, looking at Starkweather again. "It's very possible." "For whatever reason the Syndicate took these people," Carlos said. "The fact remains they are innocent people who are probably going to be tortured and killed. We can't allow that." "How would rescuing these people stop the Eden Project?" Reyes said. "Not that I'm opposed to saving them. I'm just confused. How would saving them stop anything?" "Simple," Carlos pulled out another stack of photocopies and passed them out. Starkweather took one look at the picture and put it face down onto the table. She folded into herself and ran her fingers through her hair. Doggett sighed when he looked at his copy. "Bravo." "Bravo has one loyalty. The Cancer Man," Bunny said. "According to our source, at the Cancer Man's request, the head of the Syndicate has put Bravo in charge of the transportation. We get Bravo. We get the Cancer Man." "We get the Cancer Man," Mulder leaned forward as he fished a sunflower seed out of his coat pocket, "We can literally cripple the Syndicate." "I knew that smoking bastard wasn't dead," Scully seethed. "We should have known Krycek and Marita were lying." Skinner stayed very quiet. Starkweather broke the silence. "But if the Cancer Man isn't in charge of the Syndicate... who is?" "That we don't know. But we're working on it," Carlos said. "Which is why I had the FBI's X-File team assemble here today." He looked at each and every one of them. Mulder, gnawing on a sunflower seed, in a suit that he would have never worn when he was a federal agent, mostly because of the price tag. A navy blue Ozwald Boateng with a lighter blue shirt and one of his typically wild ties, shiny midnight blue with weird darker blue symmetrical patterns through it. Looking at the tie gave him a headache. And yet, despite the crow's feet and frown lines that weren't there a few years ago, the man looked good for forty-one, almost forty-two. And the dead look had left his eyes. Starkweather and Scully could hate him all they want to, but as he said earlier, it was ultimately Mulder's choice to join the CIA. He would have shriveled up and died in that Deputy Mayor's office if he hadn't. As for Scully, looking prim and proper in her FBI approved suit, was losing a lot of her vitality, even Carlos could see that and he barely knew the lady. She was lovely though. Perhaps in a previous life she was a stage actress or a princess. No matter, she was a great lady no matter what life she was in. Despite the constant contradiction between her fiery hair and her icy eyes (or perhaps because of it) she was the heart of the X-Files. When things got too weird, it was Scully everyone turned to. For her rationality. For her faith. She was the touchstone for everyone when they were overwhelmed and needed a reminder that there was such a thing as miracles. So onto her small shoulders they lay their burdens. Even though it was slowly crushing her. Next to Scully was Assistant Director Skinner. He looked unhappy. But then, he always looked unhappy. <<Is it because he's bald or is there some other reason?>> Carlos wondered as he quickly eyeballed the serious man in the black suit, white dress shirt, narrow wire-rimmed glasses, boring red and black striped tie and stiff upper lip. The man was so straight-laced, Carlos wondered what chained him to the Syndicate. He, Joshi and Bunny had dug and dug and dug and found nothing. Well, they knew that he was the one who killed Alex Krycek, but the Syndicate had a hold on him long before that. But what in hell could be strong enough to compel this formidable Assistant Director to bend to their commands? The man's social life was as exciting as watching paint dry. With the noted exception of waking up next to a dead prostitute years ago, the man, without fail, went home each night to his dog and to his television set. Reyes, he knew why she succumbed to the temptation of the Syndicate. She had been young and dumb. She didn't know better. And she got the hell out as soon as she saw the light. But they were waiting for her. Carlos knew that as he appraised the low-cut black shirt with the long sleeves and the almost skintight white pants that would have made other women, even physically fit women like Scully and Starkweather, look like they had a huge ass. Reyes, tall, long and lanky, was all legs so she could wear white slacks and look fantastic. The voodoo influence of her time in New Orleans showed with the heavy amber pendant she wore on a thick silver chain around her neck and the matching amber and silver bracelets on both wrists. With her black hair and sparkly cappuccino eyes, she looked like a modern-day mystic instead of a federal agent. She did not look like a traitor. And yet, Carlos was wary of her. Just as the Syndicate had come back to yank Skinner's chains, they could very well come to yank hers. Skinner was strong enough to finally say no. Would this woman be? Only time would tell.
Starkweather, with her bruised chin and shadowed eyes. Her long hair in dire need of a good shampooing and brushing. And **blond!!!** <<Why Bailey-girl, why??>> He had moaned when he first saw her with her blond locks as opposed to the rich mahogany tresses she had when he first met her. Still swaddled in the black Artic cat coat she had charged to the FBI's credit card, it was impossible to see the lithe body hidden underneath the layers of clothes. Still, despite the exhaustion, despite the trauma, her eyes glittered defiantly, like topaz. Like her brother's. He knew she was thinking <<Bring it on>> because she never shirked from a challenge. Like the challenge of loving him. But even she eventually called it quits, threw in the towel and married somebody else. Who got his dumb ass killed because he didn't trust her. Carlos couldn't bring himself to have much sympathy for the late Mr. Starkweather, as hard as he tried for Jerilyn's sake. Not that it seemed to matter. Mrs. Starkweather seemed to be moving on. Carlos had hoped against hope that the rumors weren't true. He never imagined Jerilyn to be unfaithful. At least, she never was when she was with him. But maybe the fidelity was in body only. Who knew what went on behind those color-shifting hazel eyes? Fighting tidal waves of jealousy and regret, he watched those color-shifting hazel eyes flick over to her partner, her sweet, pouty pink lips curve up briefly in a smile for him, her eyes warming up to a golden color, the color of love. The color her eyes had been when she was with him. Before she changed her last name. Then those eyes slid back to look at him, the color dulling to brown. The color of boredom, of distrust and impatience. The smile was gone. Her heart-shaped face was all business now. Carlos fought with himself again to not glare at Agent Doggett. Tall, strong, well preserved for forty-one and a quick intelligence sometimes he purposely hid with his Southern drawl. But where Mulder still could pass as a young man, someone in his thirties, Doggett definitely looked forty-one. A damn good forty-one who still had all his hair, but forty-one was forty-one. And his crow's feet and laugh lines made him look like he could easily be Starkweather's father. He couldn't see the charm of his blue eyes crinkling up as he returned Starkweather's quick smile of support. All he saw was a redneck with ears that stuck out. <<Jesus, what do you see in him?>> Carlos moaned to himself on the inside while he continued with his narrative. <<Bailey-girl... you could do so much better...>> Was she just really searching for a father figure? Carlos hoped not. She was just going to get hurt again if she was. She got hurt with Ben. And guiltily Carlos knew he hurt her, beyond from what she even realized. He watched Starkweather fidget with her wedding ring as he spoke. "You six," Carlos said, "have the most experience with the Syndicate. We need your expertise to pull off this rescue mission. What we want is to organize a CIA-FBI co-operative. We want you six to join us in the rescue efforts. And to capture Bravo. And consider carefully what you're getting into," he cautioned them. "This is a combat mission. And only three of you," he looked at Skinner, Doggett and Starkweather, "have military experience. This is not a walk in the park, agents. But we need you. And we need to know, now." Carlos watched each individual's reactions. Mulder chewed on a sunflower seed pensively and looked at his partner and his son. Scully ignored Mulder's puppy-dog eyes and stroked her miracle child's soft hair and gently tried to get him to let go of her cross necklace. William, with his big blue Scully-eyes open wide, giggled. Skinner took a sip of coffee. His jaw was clenched. Reyes was staring off into space as she bit on her thumbnail. Doggett and Starkweather looked at each other again, blue eyes connecting with hazel again. She raised her eyebrows in question at him. He shrugged. Carlos resisted the urge to grab his chair and beat Doggett over the head with it. Then he remembered that Mrs. Starkweather filed for divorce mainly because of Mr. Starkweather's jealousy. Mr. Starkweather did Mrs. Starkweather a favor by getting himself killed. Less legal fees. Reyes was the first to speak. "I'm in." "Thank you Agent Reyes," Carlos said after a beat. He had hoped Reyes would say no. He didn't want to worry about her loyalties during the entire time. Mulder was next. After clearing his throat, he said, "I'm only in, if Agent Scully is in." "I'm only in," Scully responded coldly. "If it can be proven that there is a danger posed at my son because of the Eden Project." It froze Mulder's heart to hear Scully refer to William as "my son" and not "our son." "You know there is, Agent Scully," Carlos said softly. "Fine. I'm in," Scully said harshly to him, her big cornflower eyes glaring at him as she clung to William. "Then I'm in," Mulder said. "So am I," Skinner growled. "I'm tired of this bullshit. Let's finish it. Or at least, start to finish it." The others looked at Doggett and Starkweather. "Well?" Joshi asked. "Bring it on," Starkweather said. "I'm in." "So'm I," Doggett said quietly. "Alright. Joshi and Bunny will be remaining in DC to take care of things in our absence. The rest of us will be leaving for Arizona tomorrow morning at 0500 hours." "Good," Starkweather said. "That will give me a chance to take care of some things at Quantico and run down to check on Charlie plus we can get Doggett's ribs X-rayed an-" Carlos cut her off, "Sorry, Agent Starkweather, but you and Doggett can't leave here. Remember, you've been abducted. We can't have you roaming around Washington DC or Quantico." "But-" Starkweather started to splutter. Carlos turned to Bunny. "You find a way to have Eve Charlie transported over here for a brief visit. I have a feeling that Agent Starkweather doesn't just want to make a brief family duty visit." Then he turned to Joshi. "Call our contact at the military hospital at Bethesda. See if we can arrange it somehow for Agent Doggett to be brought in for X-rays without being noticed. Plus find someone to write a prescription for a mild painkiller for Agent Starkweather." "I'd like to be able to go home and get a fresh change of clothes," Doggett complained. Both he and Starkweather had been wearing the same clothes since yesterday morning. "Can one or two of you discreetly go to their homes and pack for them?" Carlos asked the FBI X-File Division. "I can get Starkweather's things," Mulder said. "I'm supposed to be helping her move into her new apartment anyway." "And I'll go over to John's," Reyes said. "I live in Falls Church too. It would make sense for me to go over and water his plants." "Hey Skinner," Mulder turned to his former boss. "Is there anyway you can go over to J. Edgar and pull every X-File we have on "Super Soldiers" or "superior soldiers"? It might make some light reading on the trip to the Grand Canyon." "Done," Skinner said. "And I want to accompany Agent Doggett to the hospital. Needless to say," Skinner snarled at Carlos, "we haven't always had the best of luck with the CIA cooperating with FBI so please don't hold it against me for not trusting you completely." "No offense," Carlos said. "Agent Doggett probably won't go until midnight, one in the morning anyway. When the hospital is deserted. Plenty of time for you to kennel your dog and to pull those files." "Wait a minute! My cat!" Starkweather suddenly wailed. "I'll take care of Caesar too," Mulder sighed while thinking <<I'll drown him>> as he looked at the long scratches on his hands. "And I'm going to go home and pack for William and bring him to my mother's hous-" Scully started to say. But Carlos cut her off again. "No, Agent Scully. Go home and pack for yourself and him, yes. But bring him back here. He's not safe at your mother's." "What?" Both Scully and Mulder said at the same time. Under any circumstance, it would have been funny. "William is coming with." "Like hell!" Mulder exploded. "Lux, have you lost your fucking mind!" Starkweather screeched. Scully only held William tighter. The boy began to cry. "The boy will be safer at our Arizona control post than left behind at Maggie Scully's home," Carlos said, unruffled at everyone's outburst. "Can't you just have around-the-clock surveillance?" Doggett asked. "William will be in a top-secret bunker, surrounded by armed CIA agents, most of them either being intelligence, communications or snipers," Carlos said bluntly. "Plus every night, he'll get to see Mom and Dad. Doesn't that sound better than staying at Grandma's who could easily get pasted if Grandma decides to go to the grocery store and brings William along and somebody rams her car as she's going across the bridge over the Potomac River?" Carlos asked. "He speaks logically," Joshi put his hand on Scully's shoulder. She jumped. "Please, listen to him. Bring the boy with. He will be better protected in Arizona." "I don't want him that close to a Syndicate stronghold," Mulder snapped. "How do you know there isn't a Syndicate stronghold right here in Washington?" Bunny said peevishly. "How do you know Scully's new neighbor isn't a Syndicate spy? Get off your high horse, Deputy Mayor," she snarled at him. "It makes more sense to bring the boy along. He will be safer." Starkweather glared at Carlos. "If one hair on his head is even singed, you are a fucking dead man. Rats won't even touch your body after I'm done with you. And you'll still have hell to look forward to." "I'll save you a seat, darling" Carlos retorted sweetly to her. To Mulder and Scully, he told said, "Mulder, you trusted me with William alone last night. If I were to take the boy, I would have done so. I promised you I would let nothing happen to this child. The Syndicate is very interested in this child. Part of the reason why we want to shut down the Eden Project is directly related to William." "Why?" Scully asked, shaking with fear and with rage. "Because you weren't the only barren woman to give birth to a miracle child last year," Carlos sighed, not wanting to go on. "Tell me," Scully demanded, standing up. "Bunny?" Carlos said, giving her a "Let-this-cup-pass-from-me" look. Bunny squared her shoulders. "The adult women who were taken by the Syndicate the same night Felitza and Samita disappeared, all gave birth to 'miracle babies' after being barren due to cancer. The little girls were all daughters of men who supposedly were abducted by aliens." As that horrible bit of information sank in, Doggett hated himself for asking but felt he had to. He strongly suspected that the full picture was not being painted. "What happened to the 'miracle babies' of these women?" A dreadful pause. Bunny actually looked compassionate for once. "They're all dead," she finally whispered. "They were killed and their bodies were left behind when their mothers were taken." "Why didn't you tell us this before!" Mulder thundered, getting up so fast, his chair fell over. Starkweather, Doggett and Skinner bolted out of their chairs as well, furious. Reyes was too stunned to move. "Lux, you son-of-a-bitch!" Starkweather yelled. "How dare you withhold information like that!!!" The CIA-FBI X-File Co-Operative was off to a fine start.
January 1, 2002 Starkweather stood in front of the two-way mirror, twisting her freshly washed hair up into a tight bun. After spending an hour screaming at Carlos along with the rest of the FBI X-Files Division, Bunny had led her down to the women's locker rooms that were just off of the CIA's gym and fitness center and Joshi had retrieved the luggage the men in black had taken from her and Doggett. Starkweather was finally to change into clean clothes. She wished she had her black suits so she could draw strength from her professional appearance. As it was, the grand majority of her clothes she brought to South Dakota had been ruined, slashed to ribbons. One pair of jeans had been spared along with a heather-gray angora sweater and a pair of boring cotton bra and panties set she got on clearance at Victoria's Secrets. <<Oh well, at least I have clean underwear>> Starkweather sighed in relief as she got dressed. She would just have to deal that she had to wear the same pair of dirty socks. "Dammit," she sighed, realizing she didn't have any hairpins or pony tail ties to hold her heavy, damp hair up. She walked over to the table and picked up a sharpened pencil. Her eyes flicked over to her black Artic Cat coat. That coat and its precious contents did not leave her line of sight for a minute. In fact, she was probably going to put it back on as soon as they brought Charlie to her, despite the stifling heat of the building. She returned to the mirror and while holding the pencil with her teeth, wound her long hair back up in a bun again. She took the pencil and stabbed it through the knot of golden hair. She took a step back and frowned. The look was far from satisfactory but until Mulder came back with her things, there was nothing she could do about it. Reyes had been kind enough to loan Starkweather her compact of pressed powder. Starkweather had just taken this out of the back pocket of her jeans and began dabbing lightly at her chin, trying to cover up the hideous bruising when Carlos walked in. He was carrying a white paper sack that had a greasy bottom. "Hi." "What is it," she said, snapping the compact shut. "I... uh, brought you supper." He held the bag up, as if he was a priest offering salvation through a paper-thin wafer. "I know you haven't eaten since you left South Dakota. You still like tuna-fish salad, right?" She didn't even say thank you. Instead she said, "When is Charlie going to be here?" "About twenty minutes. She's going through security check right now. The big wigs insisted on a full body search, including cavity, so..." "She's a person. A human being with rights." "She's dangerous." "She wouldn't be if you hadn't stopped me from getting FDA approval for that drug you used me to get to Mulder." "Jerilyn, if your stepmother would have found out there's a control for the Purity-induced insanity, she would have run tattle-tailing to the Syndicate and we would have all been fucked." "But you didn't know for sure if the Senator was a traitor. You were only guessing at that point. Hell... you thought it was Reyes." "Who told you that... Mulder," Carlos sighed, answering his own question. "Bailey-girl, honey, listen to me," Carlos walked closer to her, throwing the deli sack on the table. "We don't need a pissing contest between the FBI and CIA. We're on the same team, we're on the same side-" "Oh bullshit, Lux!" Starkweather turned around, finally. "Bullshit. If we were on the same team, you would have told us about the murdered infants. Jesus, Lux! You withheld that information from the FBI when we first got involved in the case. How you were able to cover all of that up is beyond me." She rubbed her temple, "Of course I'm fast learning that almost nothing is impossible with this job." "Jerilyn," Carlos sighed. "We had reason to withhold that informat-" "And I'm sure the families of the dead babies appreciate that," Starkweather pointed out coldly. "And don't call me 'honey'. I am nobody's honey." She jutted out her black and blue chin, eyes narrowed to feline slits, glittering like gold. Carlos scowled, "Still got that chip on your shoulder, don't you?" When Starkweather refused to reply, he retorted to her silence by saying "You hated Mulder with every fiber of your being. And yet, you found it in yourself to forgive him. Why can't you forgive me?" Starkweather leaned against the giant mirror and appraised him with her witchy eyes. "Saying 'I'm sorry' isn't going to make it all better, Lux. And neither is bringing me supper." It was a dismissal. "Fine," Lux muttered. "I'll bring Charlie to you when she's secured." "She's not Hannibal Lector," Starkweather scowled. "Don't treat like she is." "Funny," Carlos fired back, sick of her constant bitchiness at his expense. "Wasn't it YOU who called her 'Annabell the Cannibal'?" He shook his head. "I thought maybe the past few years you would have acquired some maturity, some insight. I thought wrong. You're still the same hypocritical spoiled Naval brat bitch I left behind." "If I'm such a terrible person," Starkweather said coolly, completely unfazed by his outburst. "Then why were you kissing my ass just a few minutes ago, begging me to forgive you as I did Mulder?" Carlos stalked out. You just couldn't win with this woman.
Later... Scully's apartment There was a knock on the door. Scully looked over at William, sound asleep in his playpen. She pulled her gun out. "Who is it?" "It's me." Scully let him in. "My key didn't work," Mulder said petulantly as she turned her back on him to finish packing up a few small toys and story books for William. She did not offer to help him drag in his burdens, a duffel bag full of Starkweather's things, his own suitcase, a guitar case and a cat carrier. Caesar was howling. "I had the Gunmen come in and change the locks," she said stiffly. "Scully..." "I don't... not now Mulder... I can't... my brain is too full... I can't process anymore tonight. I just want to finish packing for myself and William, go back and get some sleep." "Is it okay for me to leave my car here?" Mulder asked, putting down the bags, guitar case and cat carrier down. "That's fine." "Can I help?" "No." She zipped up William's bag and slung it over her arm. She brushed by Mulder and crossed over to William's playpen. "Hey, sweet William," she crooned. "Hey Boo, we go bye-bye. We go bye-bye now." Her voice shook. Mulder didn't know if it was because she was on the verge of tears or on the verge of dog-cussing him out. She placed William in his stroller and in the basket on the handle she put his diaper bag and his toy bag. Pushing William, she passed Mulder again without a word. She slung on the backpack she hadn't used since medical school. It was full of William's clothes. She picked up her own suitcase, neatly packed with her notebook computer, clothes, makeup and other toiletries. "Ready?" she asked frostily. "Do you want me to drive?" "Yes." "Fine," he snapped, snatching her car keys off the key holder. Putting the key chain in his teeth, he slung the guitar case over one shoulder again, the duffel bag over the other, picked up the cat carrier and his suitcase. He stormed out the door. "Fine," she snapped. Her cold word echoed through her apartment. She grabbed the spare house key off the key holder Frohike made her and locked the door behind her.
Meanwhile… Actually, Carlos ended up sending in a peon to announce Charlie's arrival. "Agent Starkweather?" "Yes," Starkweather turned around, her youthful faced aged by a frown that threatened to become a permanent fixture. "Eve Charlie is here." "Thank you." Starkweather looked at the deli bag. She snatched it up and tossed it deftly in the trash can while waiting for Charlie. She looked over at the mirror. Agent Monica Reyes and Agent Bonaventure "Bunny" Merchant took their seats. Reyes took out a notebook and pen. Bunny turned on the tape recorder and put on a pair of trendy black-rimmed glasses that did not help her get rid of her ditzy blond bombshell appearance. The door to the interrogation room opened. Starkweather turned around. Flanked by two armed Marines, another Marine, a female in full dress uniform, pushed Charlie in. Starkweather saw red when she saw that she was not only in a straightjacket, but had a thick prison-chain around her waist, which kept her tethered to the wheelchair. Her feet were bound together with a plastic restraint. Her face was hidden by a bite mask. The only shred of humanity given was the hands clenching and unclenching and the long hair, flowing out from behind her mask. "Take that mask off now, please," Starkweather tried to keep the rage out of her voice. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but it is the order-" the Marine on the left started to state by Starkweather cut him off. "Are you the agent of record on this case, soldier?" "No ma'am-" "Are you a trained medical doctor, capable of making a decision on a patient's well-being?" "No ma'am-" "Are you next of kin?" "No ma'am-" "Well, I am. I'm all three. So take the god-damned mask off NOW!!" "Charming," Bunny said tartly. "She's not even warmed up yet," Reyes murmured. The female Marine undid the mask and pulled it away. Starkweather stared back at her own face. Charlie looked at Starkweather once, then at the floor, ashamed. "Leave," Starkweather said. "But ma'am, she's a dangerous crimi-" Starkweather took out her service weapon, so kindly returned to her by the CIA and slammed it down on the table. "I am fully capable of taking care of myself, thankyouverymuch." The Marines didn't move. "GET OUT!!" she screamed. The Marines left. "Is she warmed up yet?" Bunny asked. "Nope," Reyes responded. "Tip of the iceberg." "She must be a joy to work with," Bunny grumbled, not envying Carlos at all. Starkweather sat down on the chair draped by her Artic Cat coat. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. Still looking at the floor, Charlie said, barely audible. "It's okay, I'm used to it." "No... I mean... for not being around more." "I understand... you've been busy..." Charlie still looked at the floor. "You've had a lot of things happen to you... I'm sorry about your husband." Starkweather stiffened up a little. "Thank you." "I should have said something when you came by for Christmas, but it just didn't feel appropriate." "Yeah well... um... Charlie? I just wanted to touch base with you. See how you're doing. See if they're treating you okay..." "Everything's fine," she said dully. "They treat me fine." She raised her head. "But that's not why I'm here. You found something. Something that you want to ask me about." "How did you know?" She shrugged. "I just knew." On the other side of the two-way mirror, Bunny shivered. "Creepy." "Welcome to the X-Files," Reyes mumbled, leaning forward. "Charlie," Starkweather scooted her chair closer. "We need your help. Before... you got better... you were trying to tell Agent Reyes something through Art Therapy." Starkweather reached over and opening a file, taking out a drawing. A drawing of a fox in the snare, two more foxes in the cage next to the snare, four skinned foxes hanging from the tree and one fox running away, barely escaping a cartoonish looking alien wearing the fox-fur coat. The picture was spattered with brownish-red stains. "Foxes, Charlie... Fox Mulder. You said, in your therapy sessions with Reyes that Alex and Bravo would discuss plans. Talk about things, people. I think I understand what this means. This," she pointed to the fox running away. "Is me. This," she pointed to the four skinned foxes. "Is our sisters, Alpha, Bravo, Delta and yourself. This," she pointed to the foxes in the cage. "Scully and her son. And this," she pointed to the fox in the snare. "Is Mulder. But I what I don't understand is why Mulder?" "Because," she whispered, "It always comes back to Mulder," Charlie turned to her head to look at the mirror. "It's not the boy or you or me they're after. It's Mulder. It always comes back to Mulder. It's come full circle now." She stared at the glass as if she could see Reyes, who was turning a sickly shade of white. "Why?" Starkweather asked. "Why him?" "I don't know. I don't think Bravo and Alex knew either. They were on a need-to-know basis. They would discuss their own theories but," she shrugged again. "It was just that. Theories." "What kind of theories?" "That... the reason why the Cancer Man was so obsessed with Mulder is because he was really his father and not Bill Mulder." "Whoa, whoa, stop the bus, Gus, where in the FUCK did THAT come from!" Bunny yelped as Reyes' jaw dropped. Starkweather froze. "That... that's not possible." "Like I said, they discussed theories. Never had any to back it up. Alex brought it up as a joke once to Bravo, asked her how she would like it to be half-sister to Mulder, full sister to you. She wasn't very happy," Charlie looked at Starkweather now. "I'm afraid of Bravo. And so are you. So is your partner." She rolled her eyes heavenward and looked up at the ceiling, as if she could see John Doggett, asleep on the couch in the office that was directly above the interrogation room. "After he saw you get kicked by Bravo, he was afraid that you had died. And now he's afraid she's after you. That she's going to try and finish what she started." "How do you know?" "I just do." "Charlie, listen to me," Starkweather leaned forward. "There is an attorney that's going to start visiting you, no listen to me!!" she begged as Charlie began to shake her head. "Margot Rogeux-Brandybuck is a friend of mine. She's going to defend you in your murder trial. I want you to tell her everything you've told me and Agent Reye-" "Why?" Charlie whispered, "it'd be an act of futility." "Charlie, honey, you're being tried in Maryland. They have the death penalty. You're looking at the gas chamber if you don't talk to her." "I can't," she whispered again, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Don't worry about sounding crazy! I'm leaving for a mission to prove what these bastards did to you. Once that's established... you'll be free. You can have a life." "Until the madness comes back. The drug you gave me was only a control, not a cure. Then I'd be a danger to society again." "I will find a way to make sure you continue to get the serum." "At the risk of losing your medical license? Your job? It's not worth it. It doesn't matter, Jerilyn, just let it go." "I can't let it go, Charlie," Starkweather stood up to crouch by her half-sister. She took her hand and squeezed. She looked up at her mirror image and whispered. "You and Mulder and the baby... you're all the family I have left now. Nothing else matters." "Jerilyn, I killed seven people. I knew I was killing them. I knew it was wrong and I didn't care." "That wasn't you. It was a mental disorder that was beyond your control and the people in charge of your welfare did not administer proper treatment. I have power of attorney over you now and I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promi-" "Jerilyn, you don't understand," Charlie shook her head. "They will never let me go. I am facing three choices. The gas chamber. Life imprisonment in a mental hospital. Or living in fear, wondering when the Syndicate is going to come back for me. Either one, is a death sentence." She looked away from Starkweather again. "I'd like to go back to Waldenbrooks now. I'm tired." Heart breaking, Starkweather stood up slightly to embrace her sister the best she could despite the bounds. Charlie began to cry harder, experiencing a gentle touch for the first time in her life. Starkweather pressed her cool cheek against Charlie's wet cheek and as she stroked her hair she whispered, "Charlie, please don't give up. I'll do what it takes so you can have a life. Just hang on. A little longer. Don't give up. I'm here. I'm always here." "Jerilyn," Charlie choked out. "Let me go." Starkweather took out a Kleenex from her pocket and dried Charlie's face. Tracing her fingers down her cheeks, Starkweather shook her head, smiling a little. "Fat chance, Sis," she quipped. "You found me. You're stuck with me." When the guards came to wheel Charlie away, Starkweather turned to the mirror and addressed Reyes and Bunny. "Call Dr. Nyman. Tell her, based upon a medical evaluation, to put her on anti-depressants and put her back on suicide watch." She paused. "Excuse me." She left. Starkweather ran to the first bathroom she could find so she could lock herself in and cry. Later still... "That is good news, thank you," Skinner shook the hand of the Naval doctor who gave them the results of Doggett's X-Rays. "We appreciate us seeing us at such a late hour. The doctor smiled weakly. He was used to being rousted out of bed at weird hours by various injured members of secret governmental agencies and covert military operatives. "Just make he ices it so it doesn't get sore. Alice," he said to the young Naval nurse who was cleaning out Doggett's knife wound again, which Doggett bore quietly. "Make sure he gets a tetanus shot." "Yes sir," she said solemnly. She wound fresh gauze bandaging around his arm. "There. You're lucky you had a doctor with you to administer to this wound. The injury could have been much worse. But, this will heal up. Make sure you keep the bandage clean. Change it if it gets wet or dirty. And seek medical attention immediately if it starts to weep or you notice a foul smell." "I've dealt with gangrene before," Doggett grumbled. "I know the signs. Too well." "Okay then... well... I'll be right back with that tetanus shot," she patted him on the back as if he was a little boy, which annoyed him, but he hid it well behind a mask of politesse. "Thank you, ma'am." She smiled patronizingly at him and walked out. "Glad to hear it's not broke," Doggett said to Skinner as he gingerly touched the thick ACE bandage they had wrapped around his torso to help reduce the swelling. "Hate to think how shitty I'd feel if it really was broken." With a slight groan, he reached for his shirt. "Agent Doggett," Skinner said, pulling up a chair and sitting down, facing Doggett. "What in the hell did you find out there?" "Sir?" Doggett said innocently. "Cut the bull, agent. You and Starkweather were withholding something. I want to know what it is." "When the CIA starts dealin' quid pro quo with us, then maybe I'll maybe I'll think 'bout sharin' my toys with the other kids. Until then, I ain't playin'." "I'm not CIA," Skinner scowled at him. "C'mon, John... don't dick around. What are you and Starkweather hiding?" "Sir," Doggett said formally. "If I was comfortable with disclosing any further information with you, I would be glad to. As it stands, I can not currently reveal any more that what I already had earlier today." He pulled his shirt over his head. Skinner got out of his chair and began to pace. "Maybe the information you aren't disclosing has nothing to do with the case?" "Sir?" Skinner glared at him. "May I remind you agent, how much is riding on you? Dammit, John," Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I am putting my ass on the line pushing you as my replacement. They're watching you, John," Skinner clenched his glasses tightly in his hand. "They're watching US. They're waiting for us to screw up. And they would love nothing more than a huge scandal. And what better scandal than a potential contender for the Assistant Director's seat busted for sleeping with his widowed partn-" "Hey!" Doggett stood up now. "Agent Starkweather and I have neve-" Skinner sighed. "It doesn't matter what the truth is. It matters who controls the truth. Truth can be warped. The best lie is the one cloaked in truth. And truth of the matter is that you do care about the girl, and John... she's a great girl. She really is. But you have to decide what matters more to you. I don't have a choice. Unless a Deputy Director or a Section Chief position opens up, I'm done. 'You fall in love with the Bureau, but it doesn't fall in love with you.' Mulder was a brilliant mind, but a loose cannon. In his quest, he nearly destroyed the X-Files, Scully, himself. God only knows what's going to happen to his son. You, when Kersh brought you on board, punished you for doing what's right instead of following orders, I was sure the X-Files was done. But I was wrong. You gave it what it never had before." "What?" Doggett growled. "Credibility. For Agent Mulder it was personal. First Samantha. Then William. Agent Scully was sent down there originally to debunk his work and now, after all that has happened with her child, she believes... to the point where they're afraid of her. They want to transfer her back to Quantico this spring. Now... with you... why would a man like you, with no personal stake in the X-Files... stay... if it wasn't real?" Skinner began to walk around the room when Doggett remained silent. "Case success rates have risen since you've been brought on board. We were able to get the funding to bring Reyes and Starkweather on full-time. With me pulling a few strings... there are actually people out there that owe ME favors. But not many. And I'm running out of time." Skinner stopped his pacing to stand in front of Doggett again. "What do you think is going to happen to Starkweather if that office closes down? To William? To Mulder and Scully? Their very lives depend on that office and I don't think you fully grasp that." The two men were nose to nose now. Both had their jaws clenched, eyes narrowed. Doggett broke the silence. "They aren't going to put an agent that's only been with the Bureau for six years and spent two of those years in the X-Files Office, no matter how much 'credibility' I bring to it." "They will, after the success of this raid," Skinner assured him. "On the records, it's a major bust of a suicide UFO cult and you're the agent of record. Once you've been recovered from your "kidnapping" of course. You're going to shine so bright after this, the Senior Staff with need sunglasses." "Stupid analogy." "You know what I mean. If they've tried to ignore you before, well, after this, after we retrieve Mrs. Saint-Claire and others... they won't be able to. We need you," Skinner whispered to him. "We need you in my chair when I go. And I'm advertising like crazy I want you as my successor. And don't kid me, Agent Doggett, I know how ambitious you are. I know your military record, your police record. Fast advancement. You expected nothing less than the AD seat when you joined us. And they know this too. That's why they're watching you like a hawk. And they're waiting for you slip up, fuck something up. No matter how you justify it, how you rationalize it... you and Jerilyn... can't. Not as partners. And definitely not when you're her superior. She's something special, something special enough that the Syndicate is trying to kill her. So..." Skinner backed away from him, "You think you can protect her without the shelter of the Federal Agent's badge, without the Assistant Director's title... good luck. I'll send roses to her funeral." He left the room. Doggett ground his teeth as he sat back down. He hated his life.
Later still Mulder opened the door just wide enough to stick his head in. Starkweather was curled up like a fresh ocean shrimp on a soft leather coach, sound asleep. Freed from the messy bun she hastily tied it back into, her hair almost covered her face. He hated to wake her up. He guessed correctly this was the first good sleep she had gotten in a while now. But still, he had promised himself a friendly chat with his baby sister and this was probably the only chance of privacy he was going to get. He opened the door wider and let himself in. Stirring, Starkweather sleepily opened her eyes. "Who's there?" she muttered, hand instinctively going inside her jacket. There was a small "thump, thump," as if someone was putting down suitcases. "Don't shoot, no matter how tempted you may be," Mulder deadpanned as he turned on the small crystal lamp sitting on the Regency desk. He was not cruel enough to turn on the overhead light. "It's just me." She blinked at looked up at him. He grinned at her sheepishly as he put down the duffel bag. "I got your stuff," he said, looking over at the guitar case. "I hope that's the right one. You did say 'acoustic' right?" He crouched down behind the leather chair, starting to fuss with something or other... "Ow! You little..." "Right," she said, craning her head to try and see what he was doing. "Mulder... you did not bring..." "Surprise," Mulder stood up again, holding Caesar. Caesar, unbelievably, was allowing him to hold him, although his ears were flat back against his head. "Somebody wanted to see you." Starkweather brightened instantly. "Aw, my baby!" she squealed as she held out her arms. "Puke," Mulder muttered as he handed the cat off to her. Caesar began to purr and rub his face against Starkweather as she crooned and petted him. "Aww, you've just never had a lovable pet before," she told Mulder in between the "Hi Caesar, hi baby, how's my kitty, how's my Caesar Dictator?" "My fish love me," Mulder said with a pout. Starkweather sat up on the couch, lifted Caesar up so she could cross her legs Indian style. She then set Caesar in the crook of her leg. Caesar yawned, stretched and purred contentedly as his mistress scratched his ears. "So..." she said, looking up at him. "How's the new year treating you so far?" "Well... I'm above ground. That's a vast improvement from last year? You?" "Well, it's only," she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes into the second day of the New Year and I've had a bad dream, my hotel room trashed, almost missed my flight, got kidnapped when I got back, found out my ex-boyfriend withheld crucial information and had two crying jags. Happy freakin' New Year." "You had a bad dream?" **Please John...** "Oh, that..." **... you're hurting me...** "It's nothing," she lied. Mulder didn't believe her but didn't push it. He had a bigger agenda. "Jerilyn," he lowered his voice. "Carlos was not the only one who with held information back. You found something. You and Doggett. What is it?" When Jerilyn bit her lower lip and looked at her cat instead of answering, Mulder crouched down so he would be eye level with his sister. "What did you find? What are you hiding in your coat?" "How did you figure it out?" "You have a perfect poker face Jerilyn, but you get fidgety with your hands. When you're thinking about Ben, you twist your wedding ring. When you're hiding something, you fiddled with your clothes. I haven't figured out what's on your mind when you play with your necklace," he pointed to her Medal of St. Christopher. "Mulder," she said nervously, wrapping her coat tightly around her. After crying in the bathroom stall for about five minutes, she realized that she had left the coat behind and fairly sprinted back to the interrogation room. She had nearly ripped it out of Reyes' hands, who was trying to track her down to return the coat. After muttering some lame excuse, Starkweather sequestered herself in an empty office and to her relief, found the file still inside the hidden pocket. "I... maybe I should tell you later. This is CIA. There could be bugs in here that we don't know about." Mulder nodded, then hugged her. Starkweather jumped, as well she might have for they were not the closest of siblings. The first and last time they embraced was when she learned her adoptive father had been killed in the Pentagon attack on September 11. Caesar yowled and squeezed from out in between the two bodies. Stroking her hair, Mulder breathed into her ear, "Whisper it to me, in my ear. If this office is bugged, all they'll hear is hiss." Wrapping her arms around his neck, Starkweather leaned into him and whispered so softly, he had to really strain to hear her. "We found a file with William's name and birthdate on it. We didn't get a chance to look at it because we decided to burn the lab down. Before we left to investigate Skinner's lead, I sewed false pockets in my clothes to hide out badges and wallets, just in case we had to run. I put a pocket in this coat." She broke the embrace. Mulder nodded. "Okay," he said. "Okay..." "Are you going to talk to Scully?" "I will... as soon as she'll start talking back to me." "Ah. Taking this well, I see." "Oh yeah, don't you know? This is every mother's dream." He groaned, rubbed his neck. "I hate to change the subject, but did you find the other thing I asked you about?" "Yeah, but I don't understand, why?" Mulder's brow was furrowed in confusion. "Why you want a ballistics test run on an old gun of your father's?" "Let's just say," she said darkly. "I'm going for my first Mulder-leap." "Watch the first step, it's a lu-lu." "What? You mean this ride's not equipped with safety harnesses?" "Nope," he grinned. "You leap, you leap free-style." "Where are the results being sent to?" "The ballistics are being run here, not Quantico. They're being emailed to me at my TrustNo1 hotmail account." "Trust... Jesus Mulder, why don't you raise a red flag and paint a bull's eyes on your ass to alert the hackers 'hey, it's me! Fox Mulder! Woo hoo, guys! I'm over here!!'" She shook her head. Mulder's eyes crinkled up. He looked entirely grateful and completely miserable at the same time. He leaned forward and brushed her hair out of her face. "Get some sleep, you pain in the ass," he said softly as he kissed her brow. "Bunny is going to take care of your cat for you. I heard she's a great Chinese chef," his eyes twinkled wickedly as he stood up. "That's what I like about you, Mulder," Starkweather yawned as she curled up in the fetal position again. Caesar leapt up beside her and allowed her the very great honor of cuddling him. "You're an equal opportunity offender." "Yup," Mulder quipped as he walked out. "I don't discriminate. I hate everybody. See you in the morning." "'Night."
January 2, 2002 William cried during the entire trip. He started before the first rays of sunlight even touched Washington DC. When the agents had been herded from CIA Headquarters to the waiting vehicles, by the decree of Lux Carlos, William's care was entrusted to Starkweather. Who was more upset by this decision, the child, his parents or his aunt, was anyone's guess. All the agents were split up, for security purposes. Because they were they were the only ones that could pull off the "non-descript" look, Skinner, Starkweather and William, along with two undercover and armed escorts were transported to Ronald Reagan International Airport and were flying on a commercial flight to Phoenix where CIA agents would pick them up at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. The others, because of their distinguishing features, Reyes's height, Mulder's big nose, Scully's bright red hair and Doggett's prolific ears, that made them stand out in a crowd whether they liked it or not, were brought to Arizona via military transport, in two different military planes, so the flight was very uncomfortable. As Lux Carlos put a wailing William into Starkweather's arms, Doggett had paused before getting into the car to seek her out, as if he was trying to get one last look because he was convinced he would never see them again. That pause earned him not just a dirty look from Carlos, but also Skinner, who clamped a hand on Starkweather's shoulder and murmured something into her ear. She had nodded, lifted her shoulder in a shrug and tried to smile at her partner. She held William as if he was going to explode. Carlos was wise in separating Mulder and Scully, he perceived they were about to choke each other. He sent Scully and Doggett in one flight and rode with Mulder and Reyes in the other. He figured that was the move that made the most sense as he yet did not fully trust Reyes and wanted to keep tabs on her. Plus he knew if he sat with Doggett for a very long flight, he'd have to punch him, then Starkweather would find out and she's deck him for hitting her partner and probably with his luck, Mulder would slug him too. Not to defend Starkweather, just to be an asshole. Carlos was tired of being the Mulder siblings’ personal punching bag. And the climate control in both planes was laughable. While Doggett and Scully felt like they were freezing to death, Mulder, Reyes and Carlos were peeling off as much clothing as propriety allowed. And Skinner and Starkweather were stuck with the screaming William. "Of course," Starkweather had seethed under her breath after bribery, pleading and even a little crying on her part all failed to calm him down, "they stick the baby with the two most inexperienced people on the co-op. William... for the love of God, please..." she whimpered in frustration as she felt the glares of the other passengers bore into her. "Let me try," Skinner had offered. When he took William, he pitched the volume up two more notches. Skinner had promptly handed the boy back to Starkweather. "Thanks," she had muttered. "D'you think Scully would be mad if I gave him a shot of vodka?" When Skinner and Starkweather first stepped foot on Eagle's Ridge, they were ecstatic to see the others also getting out of vehicles. Starkweather sprinted over to Scully and thrust her son at him. "I am NEVER having children," Starkweather vowed as William wrapped his chubby little arms around Scully's neck, still wailing. "It's okay, sweet William," Scully crooned, rubbing his back. "It's okay Boo, I'm here... I'm always here, my baby, don't cry..." <<What about me?>> Mulder thought as he glared at the back of Scully's head. <<I'm here too. Dammit, Scully, he's my child too...>> <<Or is he?>> He pushed the thought of the mystery file still hidden in the lining of Starkweather's coat firmly out of his head, for the moment. "Wow..." Reyes said, going up to Starkweather, standing next to her. "Look at the view..." The FBI X-Files team looked beyond the utilitarian building and out across the bluffs, the miles and miles of warm tan and red and orange and rust-colored earth, with a deep fission that cut by the sapphire blue Colorado River, which lazily flowed miles and mile below. And if a photographer had taken a picture of the sky above, he would have been accused of digitally enhancing the shot, so rich and blue it was without a cloud in sight. Starkweather nodded. "It is beautiful." She looked over at her partner, who was standing a little ways apart from everyone else. She stared until he was aware of her staring. She rose her eyebrows, silently asking him what was wrong. He shook his head and walked a few more feet away as Skinner scowled at him. Starkweather didn't notice that. Reyes observed the silent conversation between the three. Her thin black brows knit in confusion. <<John, John, John... what are you doing?>> she folded her lips. "Agents," Carlos broke into her musings. Doggett circled the small group and stood next to Scully, away from Starkweather. Carlos noticed that and was childishly glad. "Welcome to Eagle's Ridge." Eagle's Ridge was a perfectly encapsulated little military installation. Literally in the middle of nowhere, Carlos explained that the North Rim of the Grand Canyon's lack of popularity was a key factor on Eagle Ridge's secrecy. "Plus," he said as the FBI X-Files team filed inside the main dormitory, "if we ever need to scare off tourists, we just issue false warnings of brush fires." The corridor was bleak and white. Concrete blocks and linoleum. "You have fifteen minutes to get settled in," Carlos told them. "Then I want all of us to meet in the lounge. We'll be going for a quick tour of the facility. Then it's down to business." "Who will be watching my son during this time, Agent Carlos?" Scully was at her worst, frosty and dignified. Doggett cringed slightly at the sound of her voice. Remembering his initial meeting with the fiery ice-queen, how he walked out with a wet face and a soaked suit. "Your son will be in good hands," Carlos sidestepped that question smoothly. He checked his watch. "Time is of the essence. If you have hiking boots, I recommend changing into them." He then pointed to doors, assigning rooms. "Starkweather and Reyes, room number one. Doggett and Skinner, room number two. Mulder, Scully and the baby, room number three. I will be in room number four." "How come he gets his own room?" Starkweather deadpanned as she followed Reyes into their room. Before going into their room, Scully turned and spoke to Mulder for the first time that day. "Can you hold William?" she asked, freezingly polite. "I want to change my clothes." "Sure," Mulder accepted the boy into his arms and watched Scully struggle with both William and her luggage. Once inside, Scully hoisted her bag on top of the bed. After opening it, she found a pair of khakis slacks, a white tank top and a hunter green short-sleeved blouse. <<This looks familiar...>> Her heart sank. This was the outfit she had worn when she and Skinner had gone to the desert in search of Gibson Praise... and Mulder. She put the blouse and tank top away and found a deep purple cotton V-necked t-shirt she got on the clearance rank at the Gap two years ago. Mulder politely turned his back as Scully changed. Once he heard the bedsprings squeak, he felt safe enough to turn around. Scully was on the bed, zipping up her favorite black "kick-ass" boots. Surveying the Spartan room, two twin beds, one dresser, no closet, no windows, he said to Scully after kissing William's head, "Maybe we can push the beds together." Doing up the zipper of her left boot with an angry jerk, Scully raised her head to glare at him. "Or maybe not," Mulder sighed. "Dana, what more do you want from me?" "'Dana' now?" she said coolly, getting up. "I think you've given me enough, 'Fox'." She walked over to him and held out her arms. "Give him to me." "He's my son too," Mulder fumed. "I haven't seen him all day either." Protectively he cupped his big hand over William's soft puppy-fat cheek. "I promised you and I promised him. I was going to be this boy's dad, whether or not I'm his 'father'. You can't just take that away from me because you're pissed off right now." "I can," Scully said, aping his maddeningly calm monotone. "When your inconsideration and irresponsibility places him in danger." "Incon... Jesus Christ!" Mulder finally exploded. William began crying again. "Look, if I could have talked to you about consulting for the CIA, I would have. But you were in Hawaii and I found out information that placed me in a position to make a decision right then and there. I had to make a call, right then and there. I didn't say "Hey, Carlos, you know, being a secret agent and sounds like a hoot and a holler, sign me up." I have NO desire to be James Bond. But I will do what I have to do to protect this kid, whether you like it or not. Even if it means not asking for your permission to make a decision." "Even if it concerns my son?" "OUR son." "We don't know that for sure!" And Scully instantly regretted the words the minute they flew out of her mouth. Mulder's face was mottled with rage. William was still wailing desolately. "Thanks for rubbing ocean salt into my sucking chest wound," he said bitterly. "Would you like it if I arranged a paternity test when I get back to DC? And what do we do when we find out the truth then? Hm? Visit a friendly family judge. Set up custody arrangements? Child support payments? Is that what you want?" "You weren't there!" Scully spat out viciously, her own pale face flushed with fury as well. "You weren't there. You didn't know what I went through when I found out I was having a baby. What hell I lived through because you had to go chasing after this God-forsaken 'Truth', just like you are right now!" "Oh that's not fair Scully! I went back to Bellefleur to protect YOU. Because I thought they were after former abductees. It's not like I stood in the forest and waved my hands yelling, "Hey aliens! Yoo-hoo, I'm down here!!" He glared at her as he rubbed William's back, trying to soothe him as he yelled at his mother. "I would have been there if I could have, you know that." "Do I?" Scully challenged him. "You were cold and distant when you first came back. 'I don't know where I fit in Scully'," she mimicked him nastily. "And then you sent me away with Reyes... you weren't even there when William was born..." "I wanted you to be safe, Scully." "I wanted you to be there, Mulder." Her pretty mouth was made hideous by her frown. "But you were off playing the hero. The knight in shining armor. In pursuit of his quest... leaving behind the lady to weep and bleed..." "How poetic," Mulder sneered. He kissed William again and handed him back to Scully. "But, I'm not a hero, Scully. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you're still hoping for the fairy tale. Well, it's not going to happen. I don't own a suit of armor and I hate horses. All I know is that the truth is all that matters. Nothing else matters." "Nothing?" Scully snorted. "I can see that. I see that clearly now. You would place an intangible principal before a child." She shook her head in disgust and disappointment. "You truly are your father's son, Fox Mulder." Carrying a still sobbing William, she stalked out. Frustrated, Mulder smashed his fist into the hard wall after she left. In the room next door, Reyes whistled. "Should we tell them that the walls are paper thin?" she asked her roommate. Starkweather was lacing up her hiking boots. "Man... I thought Ben and I used to go at it.... no... let's wait until neither one of them is feeling homicidal before we let them know that the walls have ears. Right now, they both might be in the "kill the messenger" mode." "Good point."
Meanwhile... Pluto's Playground Bravo was livid. After reading the last Instant Message from the ringleader of the "New" Syndicate, she squeezed the pencil she was holding in her left hand so hard in snapped in too. "What a fucking moron," she seethed as she flung the pencil bits across the room. Pounding the keys so hard that the computer monitor on her desk shook slightly at the force she replied: "Apparently I did not make myself clear. I apologize. Our position has been compromised. Alpha learned of our location." She twisted a sterling silver ring on her right pointer finger as she impatiently waited for the response. And the response did not improve her mood at all. "You were crystally clear. I appreciate your concern. However, until further notice, the first priority is to locate Agents Starkweather and Doggett. The kidnapping was probably staged and they are actually in a federal safehouse. I want them found. I want Doggett killed and Starkweather brought to me." "Fuck YOU," she said aloud as she typed, "As you wish." She logged off and stormed out of her office. She did not appreciate having her recommendations so lightly disregarded. What part of "compromised" did they not understand anyway? They were SO concerned about fricking Starkweather, they completed underestimated the danger of Alpha. Lily. Whatever. In a blind fury, she continued her journey down the stark hallway. The building, for the most part, inside and out, looked like a typical governmental building. However, the basement of the building was a whole other story. Five women, eight little girls, Samita Saint-Claire, Felitza Covarrubias, Jeremiah Smith and Gibson Praise were all being held captive down there, under the watchful eye of the Super Soldiers. It was imperative, in Bravo's mind, to get them the hell out of Arizona. God only knew what Alpha was concocting. Only Bravo knew what Alpha was capable of. She knocked on the last door on the left. "Come in." She did. "They want me to find Starkweather and Doggett," she spat out angrily. The Cancer Man did not turn around. "Then do so." "What????" Bravo spluttered. "No offense, but Alpha knows where we are an-" "Alpha will not do anything herself. She is at too much risk of re-abduction. She knows this and stays underground because of this. She may tip off the Bureau, as she did Skinner who in turn tipped off Agents Starkweather and Doggett. Which buys us a little time to find the agents as the Bureau futilely scrambles to figure what to do with this ludicrous information. I understand that Mulder, Scully and their child has disappeared as well..." his voice trailed off. "What are you thinking?" "Find the kidnapped agents," he told her. "And you find the son of Fox Mulder as well. Bring that child to me." A wicked glint twinkled in her eyes but still she protested "I think delaying the transportation of the merchandise is a mistake." "Perhaps," he said, lighting a cigarette. "But it's one we have to make. I would recommend starting your search in Washington DC. Pay a visit to your charming little sister, Charlie?" "I'll leave today," was all she said as she turned on her heel and left. Bravo marched down the hall to the elevators, still angry. But the old man had something up his sleeve so she put her faith into him. So lost in her rage and thoughts, she slammed into two men, one a federal agent turned Super Soldier named Crane and the other a young man named Erik Folterung, a scientist recruited out of MIT to study Samita, Jeremiah and Gibson. "Hey!" Folterung shouted at her. "Watch where you're going!" "Folterung," Crane sighed, "don't." Bravo whirled around, frowning at the young handsome man. "Lay off, kid," she spat at him. "You have no idea what you're dealing with." Haughty, secure in his position of importance to the revived Eden Project, he sneered. "Careful Bravo. It might be YOU strapped to the exam table instead of Delta." Arching an eyebrow, Bravo sauntered back over to him. She reached up and traced his cheekbone with her pointer finger. Suddenly, with her other hand, she seized his neck, lifting up him. There was the sickening sound of cartilage and bone crumbling. Folterung gagged. He was up on his tiptoes. "Bravo," Crane said nervously. "Put him down." Her mean eyes flicked over at Crane. With a slight grunt, she threw him down the hallway. He was dead before he hit the ground. "I put him down," she said sweetly as she flipped her long hair over her petite shoulders and sashayed back to the elevators. Behind the mask of the long-dead Agent Crane, Lily Stratford thought desperately <<She's getting more and more unstable. Everyone thought Charlie was the dangerous one. Hell, no. It's this bitch.>> Alpha aka Agent Crane departed to request permission for leave, stepping over the body of the scientist.
Meanwhile... Back at Eagle's Ridge... "Please," Carlos said, bringing the agents to a small conference room. "Sit." In an expansive gesture, he spread out his hands, indicating the long table, similar to the one they had all sat around at the CIA Headquarters in Washington DC. The tension was just as suffocating here in Arizona as it was in DC. Perhaps more so. Mulder and Scully sat on the total opposite ends of the table, Scully holding the baby, ignoring Mulder. Starkweather took a seat next to Mulder and Skinner instantly reached for the chair right next to her. Starkweather gave Skinner one of her infamous "What the hell?" looks as Doggett walked around the table and sat by Reyes. Reyes was the only one who looked calm. And Reyes was the one Carlos worried the most about. <<Maybe this wasn't such a good idea>> Carlos thought dismally as he surveyed the faces of the unhappy crew. <<Good, bad, whatever. They are the only ones who have had experience with the Syndicate... ... God help us...>> "Our plan to free the hostages is of simplicity and there lies the beauty," Carlos said when he was assured he had the agents undivided attention. "Our inside contact tells us that they are delaying the transportation of the hostages because, as we predicted, they are looking for Agents Starkweather and Doggett." "Lucky us," Starkweather grumbled. "However, they won't waste too much time on searching for you. The hostages are hot and they want to unload them quickly. They will be transporting them by semi-trucks. There will be three semis in a convoy. Two of which will be decoys. Each of these trucks will have two of the Super Soldiers on board. And Bravo will personally be riding along as well. When the trucks hit the road... so will we..." "Will we be in tanks?" Starkweather asked, rubbing her chin, wincing in memory of her vicious half-sister's flying feet. Carlos stared at her bruises, lost in thought for a minute. "No..." he said. "If we're going against these Super Soldiers and Bravo," Mulder asked, "how are we going to stop the unstoppable?" Carlos sighed, "Eat your spinach, snarf some Scooby snacks, whatever gets your motor running." "Okay," Mulder said placidly. "I do that. And that stops them...how?" Six pairs of eyes bored into Carlos. "Look, this is CIA, not FBI. We don't have the red tape to cut through like you do. You are all on a need-to-know basis. You will be updated on details the sooner we get to the event." "Translation, you don't have a fucking clue, do you?" Starkweather snapped. "Terrific," she moaned putting her head on the table when Carlos refused to answer her. "We're all going to die." "We won't be able to kill the Super Soldiers per se," Carlos said. "But we can immobilize them and take them into custody... and begin studying them..." <<And that makes us different from the Syndicate, how??>> Starkweather wondered, but bit her tongue. "Agents Mulder and Scully," he turned to the estranged pair. "You two were selected because of your vast knowledge of the supernatural and the paranormal. And also because of your immunity to the Black Oil or Purity. Our source also tells us that along with the hostages, a shipment of the Black Oil is also being transported along with them." "Why?" Scully asked. "Partially to infect the hostages. To use the virus to make either more aliens or more alien-replicant Super Soldiers... and if I could think of a better name for them, I would but that's what they're call so please stop rolling your eyes whenever someone says that please, Agent Starkweather." "Sorry," she said blithely. "Force of habit." Carlos shot her a dirty look before continuing on. "And partially, to begin Phase Two of the Invasion." He took out a small fingernail polish sized bottle out of his coat pocket and placed it on the table. The liquid inside was a bright electric blue. "Phase One is complete. The virus is active. The Syndicate has the active virus to serve the needs of the visitors, the vaccine to save their own asses and the Super Soldiers to protect their own interests." "Whatever happened," Mulder asked, "to the faceless rebel alien forces that were resisting the Grays?" "Am I really listenin' to this???" Doggett grumbled. "Shhh," Reyes hushed him. "There was a battle, about a year ago, last March between the Faceless Rebels and the Alien Replicants. The Rebels suffered severe losses. They are re-building their forces." "Any proof of this crap you're spewin', Carlos?" Doggett burst out, his patience thinning. "'Cause I didn't sign up for this ride to fight against little green men-" "They're gray," Mulder interjected. "Whatever. I'm here because of an illegal genetics experiment that robbin' people of their biological right... of just being. Livin' a normal life. We've got a woman, back in DC, who's life is on the line because somebody thought it would be okay to poke and prod her until she was homicidally crazy. We've got Scully here, wonderin' about William day and night. And we've got..." he looked at Starkweather and his angry outburst fizzled out. "And we've got me, which nobody seems to know what to do with, but my, a lot of people are interested in killing," Starkweather said smoothly. "What's in the blue bottle, Carlos?" "This can neutralize the Black Oil. Make it powerless. The key, of course, is getting it to the Black Oil... which is where Mulder and Scully come in. They're the only ones out of all of us that can be near that stuff and not be affected." He stared at Mulder and Scully again. "You two are going to have to work together. Whatever shit you two got going on between you... by the way, the walls are really thin here... leave 'em behind. If any of us touch that stuff, we're done. You guys... Lord save us... are our only hope." "You said," Mulder waited a beat after Carlos' speech. "That they were toting along the Black Oil partially to infect their test subjects. What's the other reason. And if Phase One is complete... what's Phase Two?" "I can answer both questions at once Agent Mulder. As I explained once to Agent Starkweather, there are different variations of the Black Oil. Some create new aliens, killing their human hosts. Some create sentient Super Soldiers, such as Knowle Rohrer> Some create zombie Super Soldiers, such as Billy Miles. Some increase mental capacities... such as in the case of Mulder and Agent Starkweather..." "Excuse me?" Starkweather butted in. "I don't remember being exposed to Black Oil." "Agent Starkweather," Carlos said with a sigh. "What do you think they were testing on you and your sisters when you were an infant in the Eden Project." Starkweather, still wearing the Artic Cat jacket, wrapped it tighter around herself. <<I need to read that file on William when I have a chance to be alone...>> she thought, keeping her face blank. "Wouldn't Starkweather have immunity too?" Reyes asked. "She was never vaccinated. We don't know how she was able to combat the effects of the Eden Project. We can't take any risks," Carlos informed her. "The only ones we know definitely has full immunity against Purity is Mulder and Scully." "Is that stuff in the bottle the same as a vaccination?" Reyes asked. "Is that a cure?" "No... unfortunately not. The Syndicate possesses the cure. And this," he picked up the bottle again, swirled the contents of bottle around. "Is different from the drugs we've been giving Agent Mulder to control his Purity-induced illness. This kills the Purity before it finds a host. We've tried injecting test subjects with... uh... mixed results." "How does that make US different from the Syndicate?" Starkweather finally burst out. "Because we don't take the innocent or the helpless. We don't take innocent men." "There's no such thing as an innocent man," Starkweather hissed. "Or woman?" Carlos countered coolly. "If I may proceed, Agent Starkweather?" "You have the floor," she conceded, rubbing her jaw. The light painkillers they had procured for her from Bethesda were beginning to wear off. "We are working towards a... mega-vaccine, so to speak. We are close to completion. We are working an a vaccine that would be disguised as a new chemical to treat our drinking water supply... the entire population would be immune and not even realize it. We are about two years away from completion... unfortunately... that's not enough time because they are starting Phase Two... infecting the general population. As I said, there are several forms of Purity. The Syndicate is getting ready to roll out their own water treatment plan. We suspect that the Purity being brought along with the hostages, are being brought to a major water source. Hoover Dam, maybe. As Agent Mulder can testify... the effects of the Purity can be instantaneous... or, as in Mulder's case, can take years. Depending on which... brand? For lack of a better word... is ingested. Thousands of people would be poisoned and not even know it." "But if Purity is Syndicate-controlled, how is neutralizing one shipment going to stop anything?" Skinner asked. "Easy," now Carlos grinned. "Agents Mulder and Doggett did us a favor a year ago by blowing up that oil rig. That hurt them big time. That cut a big portion of their supply. What was once an abundance, is now a precious resource. Granted, they've still got big reserves... but... according to our source, they are hauling a huge amount of Purity. At least one quarter of their supply. Considering how much of it was buried when that rig blew up, that is a big chunk to lose." "They'd just rebuild," Mulder said. "Use what they have." "But it would buy us time to finish OUR project," Carlos said. "And they'd know we were watching them. That they aren't completely in the shadows anymore." "How nice and cryptic," Starkweather said. "Tell me, Agent Carlos. Who is this 'source'? Can he, she, it be trusted? How do we know we're not just being slung into a trap, again?" "This source is trustworthy," Carlos assured her. "That's all I can say. I'm sorry, I know you're getting frustrated, but believe me, it's better you don't know." "What I'm confused about," Reyes said. "Is that you said Phase One and Phase Two... Phase One was the Creation, if you will. The virus. The vaccination, the genetics experiences... hybrids, if you will. Phase Two, if I understand correctly, is the infection of the general public. But not an obvious infection. These people will walk around healthy. Until the virus is no longer dormant. Is that Phase Three? When the virus is activated?" "Yes," Carlos said. "Phase Three is actually invasion. The problem with the virus is," he sighed. "Is that the Visitors actually control it once activated. If a person is infected and doesn't not reproduce an alien or become a Super Soldier or go insane... the aliens can bend that person to their will. Creating a slave race. We just don't know when Phase Three will start. Time means nothing to Them." "Oh this is bullshit!" Doggett couldn't help himself. "I tend to agree," Starkweather added. "All of this time I've been with the X-Files... I've seen some weird shit. Shapeshifters. Ghosts. Witchcraft. Supah Soldiers. Dinosaurs even. But I have yet to see an alien." "The shapeshifter who attacked you in the park last spring," Mulder said. "The one that broke your wrist. He was an alien. He was one of the grays." "How do you know?" Starkweather said. "He looked like a man to me." "Do all men dissolve into a puddle of acidic ooze?" "How do we know that's not one of the aftereffects of being a Super Soldier?" "You shot a Super Soldier. Was his blood red or green?" Mulder folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "Carlos just said there are different varieties of these genetically altered people. Their blood physiology could be altered too." "Why can't you just believe?" Mulder asked. To which Starkweather responded "Why can't you just give it up?" Mulder's eyes flicked over to William, then back to Starkweather. "Ask me that again," he said coolly. Starkweather kept her peace. "Assistant Director Skinner," Carlos said once he was sure the agents had simmered down. "Based upon your experience in the Marines, you will be assisting me with devising a strategic and tactical plan of assault once we receive the information as to when and where the Syndicate is transporting the hostages and the Purity." Skinner nodded, well versed into the ways of the military. "Agent Reyes," Carlos paused again. He wanted to give her the job of least responsibility, to keep her out of the loop as much as he could. He realized almost too late that wouldn't be possible. "You will be assisting me and AD Skinner. You will also be our point-of-contact between our front mission and the Phoenix Field Office. Alerting them that you and your partner, the Agent of Record, John Doggett," he nodded at Doggett, "are working on a massive drug raid and to have all officers be on the alert. Send an APB out on Bravo." "If the Purity is a secret," Reyes was not well versed in the ways of the military. She questioned everything. "How will alerting the Phoenix Office help?" "Because the Syndicate hates publicity," Carlos explained. "By the time the Phoenix Field Office gets off its dead ass and comes to assist, we'll already have achieved our objective. The hostages will actually be people abducted to be sold into the white slave market and the Purity will be replaced with a hundred kilos of cocaine we so thoughtfully borrowed from the evidence room of the Dallas Field Office," Carlos said smoothly. "Plus the Field Office and local law will toss up road blocks which would make it difficult for Bravo and her horde of Super Soldiers to get through." "Why all the ruses?" Mulder demanded. "Why not expose them for what they are?" "Because," Carlos was getting impatient but hid it well. Only Starkweather could tell. "There are still moles in our government. FBI, mainly. As in Deputy Director Kersh, but we just can't pin that slippery son-of-bitch. If we exposed what the Purity and the Super Soldiers are... your office would get shut down in a heartbeat. And we need the FBI X-Files. If we make this look like a successful drug raid, that's good press for the FBI. It's difficult to shut down a division when all the members shine... especially YOU, Mr. Future-Assistant-Director," he said flippantly to Doggett. Who sat there and clenched his jaw. "What?" Reyes asked. "Later," Doggett mumbled. "Reyes," Carlos continued with his narrative, "you are the key to tying a 'drug bust' to the X-Files because of your experience with cults. You received a tip that a UFO cult was supplying its members with illegal substances in the name of religion. As soon as your partner Agent Doggett was recovered from his abductors, you were sent to investigate and learned it was all a bunch of hooey and therefore set up the sting." "Nice," Starkweather said, nodding. "What about me?" "You, officially, were put into protective custody because the reason why you and Doggett were kidnapped is because of your political ties. Meaning your bitch stepmother and your dearly departed father, the Admiral," Carlos bowed his head. "Of course, you escaped." "Of course," Starkweather rolled her eyes. "In reality," Carlos sighed. He had also did not want to assign Doggett and Starkweather together but realized he could not make this mission personal. No matter how bad he wanted to drop-kick Doggett of the edge of the Grand Canyon. "You and Doggett will be working together to neutralize Bravo." "Neutralize," Doggett's frown deepened. "You mean kill her." "You have a problem with that, Agent Doggett?" "Yeah, I do. I'd like to see that bitch go to court. Rot in a jail cell. Plus, I didn't join the Bureau to be an assassin." "Agent Doggett is right," Scully said quietly. "We are not vigilantes. As vile of a person this Bravo may be, she still is entitled to trial in a court of law." "That's very noble. However, nobility would cost you your lives. Bravo will kill you as soon as she would look at you. Remember this," Carlos took a breath and avoided Starkweather's all-knowing, all-remembering fiery gold eyes. "She is not human." He didn't have to look at her to feel her wrathful gaze drilling into him. He already knew what her face looked like, how her eyes had narrowed into slits. "Is the neutralization non-negotiable, Agent Carlos?" Starkweather tried to keep the rage out of her voice. Carlos licked his lips. "No matter what you two do," he said carefully, "Bravo is going to die. If she is brought to us alive, the CIA is going to make her disappear. If one of you puts a bullet in between her eyes, well, it's going to be a small funeral party." "Bravo is the ringleader of this transport and an intricate figure of the Eden Project," Carlos addressed the group again. "Our source tells us that she has a perfect photographic memory. Many of the major proponents of the Eden Project will not be found on paper or diskette or CD-ROM. It's all in between the ears of Bravo. Destroy Bravo, you destroy a major part of the Eden Project... and force the Cancer Man to come out of hiding. He's been laying low. There was in fact, a rumor floating around that he had been killed by Alex Krycek. We now know this not to be true." "How?" Scully asked. "Agent Starkweather," Carlos said, "I do not mean to dredge up bad memories..." "Oh go for it," Starkweather drawled. "This day so far has pretty much sucked. Let's go for total hell as opposed to the purgatory I've been sitting in." "Last summer, when Agent Mulder was framed for the faked murder of Benjamin Starkweather... the CIA was given hard evidence that the Cancer Man had been behind it." "What evidence?" Scully asked. "Me," Skinner said. "The Cancer Man approached me." Starkweather felt her throat go dry. "You knew. You knew all along that Ben wasn't dead and you let me believe... sir, with all due respect... you God-damned son-of-a-bitch!" "I didn't know right away," Skinner said quietly but with that "Thou-shalt-listen-to-Me" tone in his voice. "And I didn't have a choice. If I didn't comply with the Cancer Man's request, he was going to kill Ben and Mulder too. And probably Scully and the baby while he was at it. So I dealt," he finished bitterly. "Why?" Mulder finally asked the question that had been on his mind for almost nine years. "Why do you deal with the Syndicate at all?" "I have my reasons," Skinner said, staring Mulder in the eye, but saying no more. Doggett wished like hell he could remember anything from those hellish two weeks last June when Ben was kidnapped by the Syndicate. He saw the hatred and distrust glistening in Starkweather's witch hazel eyes as she glared at her boss. Reyes looked at her hands, feeling like Lady Macbeth. "How," Starkweather demanded, "can we ever trust you?" Skinner glared at herself. "You forget yourself, Agent Starkweather," he informed her with a clenched jaw. "I am still an assistant director for the FBI and your superior." "Are you ordering me to trust you?" She added nastily, "Sir?" "I am ordering for you to give me the courtesy due to me as your boss," Skinner glowered at her. "But I am asking you to trust me. Besides, if I was 'one of them', you, Mulder, Scully would have been dead and the X-Files shut down long ago." Starkweather bit her lower lip and crossed her arms, her eyes still flickering dangerously but she quieted down. Carlos saw that the minute was getting dangerously out of hand. "Alright, alright. So we've all got personal issues to deal with. We all don't like each other. You know what? Leave it at the door. Alright? We're all professionals, we've all got a job to do." He glared at each member of the FBI X-File Division before he continued. "We're all here for the same reason. Now, this meeting is adjourned. Take some time to cool off, chill out and get your shit together. This is no joke. This is no dress rehearsal. In the short run, seventeen people, eight of them little girls and one a teenaged boy are depending on us. Staking their lives on us. In the long run, the entire population is depending on us." He glared at all the agents again, lingering lastly on Starkweather. "God help us," he muttered to himself. To everyone else, he announced. "Dinner is at 1700 hours in the chow hall. Meet back here at 1800 hours... and for God's sake Agent Scully," he snapped as William started to fuss, "leave the baby behind. I swear my life on that child's soul not a hair on his head will be harmed will he's here!" He turned on his heel and stalked out. Uneasily, the agents eyed each other. "Is this where we all group hug?" Starkweather grumbled.
Later on that day... Eagle's Ridge "Hey, Scully! Wait up!" Scully paused, waiting for Starkweather to catch up to her. "Hello, Agent Starkweather," she said coolly. "Jesus, Scully, c'mon. Don't lump all Mulders together. Seven months ago, I didn't even KNOW I was a Mulder," Starkweather quipped. A small smile broke out on Scully's face as the women started walking. There was a very primitive track surrounding Eagle's Ridge. Scully had been walking along side it, letting the trim, bland-faced soldiers and CIA agents pass her by as they jogged. "So... are the walls really that thin, Jerilyn?" "You want me to be honest or polite?" "Honest, please." "Let me put it this way, Scully. If you're ever pissed off at me, let me know right away. I want ample enough time to pack my shit, get my cat and haul my sorry booty to Canada." Scully laughed silently, sadly and shook her head. "Jerilyn, you may frustrate me, but I don't think you could ever anger me like that." "Oh, I don't know," Starkweather said breezily. "I have a gift of pissing people off. Maybe I should hand that gift off to someone else, everyone I piss off seems to wind up dead." Chastised, Scully said to her, "I'm sorry, Jerilyn. I've been so wrapped up in myself ever since this all came down." "Totally understandable. You have your kid to worry about." Feeling awkward now, Scully said slowly, "But just because I have concerns about my child and my... um...Mulder and my... uh..." "Go ahead, say it, say it," Starkweather teased her. Then she drawled out playfully, "Re- lay- shun- ship. Come on Scully. Hooked on Phonics worked for me. Can work for you too. Re- laaaaaaaaayyyy- shhhhhuuuunnn- ship." "Relationship," Scully sighed. "Doesn't give me the right to ignore my friends. And Jerilyn, I AM concerned for you. I... I haven't really been there for you lately and that's not right. I'm sorry." "Scully," Starkweather said with a wry smile. "Short discovering the key to quantum physics that would make time travel possible, there's nothing you can do. Nothing's going to bring Ben back. Or anyone else. I'm okay, really," she lied. "So don't get your pantyhose in a twist. You've got enough on your plate than to worry about me." Scully looked at her, arched on eyebrow, gave her a half-smile but said nothing. The women walked companionably in silence for a little while until another jogger passed them by. "Boxers?" Starkweather mumbled under her breath. "No way," Scully shook her head. "Tightie-whities, all the way." They giggled until Starkweather sighed. "Sometimes, I just miss being a girl. The whole staying-up-pass midnight, reading Cosmo, doing makeovers... I graduated early from high school. Plus, my mother's death forced me to grow up in hurry." She spoke without a trace of self-pity, but a little regret. "So I missed all of that. Homecoming. Prom. Graduation. My mother before she got really sick tried to tell me that all that high school nonsense was a part of life too, but I didn't listen and she finally figured it out that I wasn't going to listen and so she let me go." "When we were in Hawaii," Scully said after a moment of silence. "Monica made the suggestion that all of us, myself, Mulder. Doggett. You and her. Make a pact. To meet in Hawaii someday. No X-File. No crisis. Just us. Together. Would.. would that be a reality, you think? All of us getting together like normal people? And... if it is... maybe one night we can send Mulder and Doggett away and the three of us can stay up past midnight, giggle over Cosmo, do makeovers," her voice broke a little. "And check out surfers?" Starkweather's eyes brightened with tears. "Wonder if there's tan lines or not... of course, if Ben was still alive, he'd be dead set against me going if Doggett was there. Because you know, I'm sleeping with him. I wish somebody would tell me if it was any good or not because everybody seems to know more about that I do," she said bitterly. "It comes with the territory," Scully tried to console her. "The gossip mongers at the Bureau had me and Mulder hooked up before we even realized how much... we... meant to each other..." She dropped her head. "But Scully..." Anguished, she tried to make her understand. "You weren't **married.**" "What are you trying to say?" Scully wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "That..." Starkweather stopped walking, crossed her arms, looked up at the perfect blue sky. "Contrary to popular belief, I loved Ben. I love him still. I wouldn't have married him if there was no love there. He was my soul mate, my best friend... god, why do I suddenly hear the wailing steel guitar of a bad country song when I talk about this... but I mean... he was a great guy, believe it or not. We liked the same stuff. We were both movie buffs. Loved to read. Loved speed, I mean we were both nuts for fast cars and faster motorcycles. He told me he loved my 'spirit of adventure' as he put it. And I loved how ambitious he was. He wasn't going to sit on his ass and wait for life to happen, he was going to grab it by the throat. When his parents told him that they just didn't have the money to help him through law school, he didn't cry about it. He joined the military and had Uncle Sam pay for it. He always found a way. Even with me," she chuckled. "His buddies at the 132nd told him he didn't have a chance with me... and they were right. I just wanted to be friends. I... well," she sighed. "Things had just abruptly ended with me and Carlos. I was NOT looking for another man to mess up my life. But Ben... well, he decided that I was the girl for him, and he won me over, in spite of me," she quoted one of Alanis Morissette's hit singles from her debut album. Then she sang a few bars, "Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet..." she shook her head. "I have no idea why he didn't trust me though. Maybe it was background, his father, nice guy, but very possessive of his wife. Maybe it was because of a high school heartache. Because when he was a senior, he dated this girl named Courtney and she cheated on him. He never really told me the entire story, but eventually they got back together, but the slutting around started again. Before he got resolution, she was killed in an auto accident and that was it," she closed her eyes. "Or maybe it was the one personality trait that was bequeathed to him from the Creator, whatever He, She, It may be that kept him from being a perfect person. But... god, he was a fucking jealous prick. Maybe that makes me a bad person for speaking ill of the dead, but he didn't trust me. Bottom line." "My point of that whole convoluted pity-party story is, don't get me wrong. Love is great. Love creates wonderful scenes in movies, pretty songs and nice greeting cards. But if you don't have trust behind the love, love don't mean shit. Ben loved me, but he didn't trust me. And I needed him to trust me. I trusted him... and he fucked his secretary. After I found that out, he didn't understand why I wanted a divorce. Not because I stopped loving him. Believe it or not, I miss him so much. Or, at least, I miss what he used to be. That might be a better way of putting it," now she lowered her head and looked at the ground. "But, no matter how much I loved him, I knew, I just knew that our marriage didn't have a Sno-Cone's chance in hell of making it if we couldn't trust each other. That's why I drew up those papers." Scully had just stood there, listening quietly, thinking Starkweather was just unloading her recent heartache unto her. She was surprised when Starkweather turned the tables onto her. "And that's what makes you and Mulder different from Ben and me. You're pissed at him, he's pissed at you, whatever. Shit happens. But you still trust him. You still believe in him. And he does in you. You both know that you can count on each other to back each other up. And that's more important than anything else. Nothing else matters. I learned that one the hard, miserable way." She paused, biting her lip. "Okay, there's a piece of hell icing over right now. I just defended Mulder." Scully, despite herself, laughed. She blinked away the few stupid tears that had welled up. "Jerilyn," she said ruefully, quoting herself from years ago, "you just keep unfolding like a flower." "Is this the part were we get all squeally and hug each other and cry like girlie girls?" Scully shuddered at Starkweather's 'girlie girl' remark. "I'm no girlie girl," she vowed. "Me neither." "Let's go find the firing range and shoot the hell out of something." Now Starkweather laughed and she did hug Scully, but in was in the playful manner of a best friend or a sister as opposed to the fashion of a soap opera diva. "I knew we were friends for a reason," she giggled as they walked off together, in search of target practice.
A little later on that day... Mulder had found a very small outdoor basketball court and an abandoned basketball. Dribbling it, he wandered over to the free throw line and started to shoot. He was sinking them all nice and easy until Monica Reyes called out his name. That shot bounced off the backboard and bounced towards Reyes. She walked over and scooped up the ball. "Sorry," she grinned. "Didn't mean to throw your concentration." She tossed the ball at him like a natural. "Nice pass," he commented as he passed the ball back at her. She caught it deftly. "Did you play?" "Never seriously. And not until I moved to the States. In Mexico, basketball's not that popular or at least it wasn't when I was growing up," she passed the ball back at him. "You poor deprived child," Mulder intoned as he faked left, then drove right, going for a lay-up. He missed and Reyes, upon catching the rebound, made the basket easily. Mulder stood under the basket, snatched up the ball. "So..." he said, bouncing the ball as he walked over to her. "Why the X-Files, Agent Reyes?" Reyes had been preparing herself for this day. Even before Doggett called her to assist him in finding the missing Agent Mulder the fall before last, she knew fully well of his reputation for being arrogant and condescending. She knew he was not interested in making friends. That was fine. Neither was she. She wanted to work on the X-Files. She wanted to explore the paranormal. She had gobbled up stories about ghosts and goblins and monsters and aliens ever since she was a little girl. The extreme fascinated her. Whenever she experienced something wondrous, or had that flash of empathy that allowed her to feel what others felt themselves, she felt like a greedy child. She wanted to call out "I want more!" The more and more she heard about 'Spooky' Mulder, the stronger she felt in her convictions. After all, it takes a strong man to face the conservative world and announce "I believe my sister was abducted by aliens!" without batting an eye. The more and more her fellow field agents giggled about the validity of the X-Files, the more and more Reyes wanted to join. So she fairly leapt at the opportunity presented to her when her old friend called her to help him. One, it would give her the chance to introduce herself to Agent Scully. Two, she would be able to help return one of the FBI's finest if not always orthodox profilers back into the fold. Three, it would reunite her with an old friend. Whom she missed very much when she fled Brad Follmer and New York City to take refuge in New Orleans. When Mulder was revived, she had hoped for an opportunity to speak to him, poke and prod at his brilliant mind. She even asked him to help her find resolution for her friend, to help her track down Luke Doggett's killer. He grudgingly helped her, but afterwards ignored her until he needed someone to be with Scully when he had to hide her and the unborn William from the monsters stalking them. Afterwards, he fairly ignored her again. Dismissed her input. Made it crystally clear he thought she was a flake. She really, honestly, didn't like him very much. At first anyway. So she decided to dismiss him. Unless it was unavoidable, she did not run to him for advice when she did her job. She knew she was a competent agent and did not need to seek him out when she was in doubt. She wondered if he figured that out. Not that it mattered any more. Here they were, on a top secret mission for the CIA, of all things, playing basketball. And he was asking her why the X-Files. She shrugged. "Why not? It's right up my alley. I believe there is a force greater than ourselves to be reckoned with. I believe that we are not alone in this universe. I believe that mythology and legend only scratch the surface of the story of our planet, our cultures beginnings. I believe that people abuse the powers of myth and science to further evil in our world and maybe we can't save the world, but we can make it better, one person at a time." She smiled. "Plus I look good in black trench coats." The smile faded. She sensed that Mulder did not ask that just to make conversation. She sensed suspicion, distrust. Minute, yes, but it was there. "Is that all?" he said lightly, still dribbling the basketball. "That's the only reason why the X-Files?" "Well..." she felt flustered and became annoyed with herself because of it. "Yes." "Really?" his eyes flashed now. Reyes had the same creepy feeling she got in the bars when she sensed men undressing her with their eyes. Only it wasn't her clothes that Mulder was mentally removing. "You joining the X-Files has nothing to do with you running with Alex Krycek? Playing with the Syndicate?" Reyes closed her eyes. So that was it. <<Time to 'fess up, Monica>> she told herself. "I made a mistake," Reyes said simply. "That's an understatement." "Would you prefer me to drop to my knees, pull my hair out in tufts while wailing and keening about my iniquities?" "No," Mulder said, no longer dribbling the basketball. "Then what more do you want?" Reyes asked. "Answers." "I can't give answers unless I receive questions." "Fair enough," Mulder passed the basketball to Reyes, a little harder than he intended. Still, she caught it, with a grunt of surprise. She frowned at him. He regarded her with an expressionless face. "After his involvement with Agent Scully's abduction, when Krycek visited your home, why didn't you report him?" "I was afraid," Reyes responded, as if she was on the witness stand. "He hurt me. I believe he would have killed me. He also promised that if I complied, he would never bother me again. He has kept that promise. How did you know that Krycek visited me? I told no one," she asked as she passed the ball back to Mulder. Hard. But unlike Mulder, she meant to. Mulder grunted as the ball landed solidly in his abdomen. He started to dribble it again. "According to Carlos, Agent Rohrer was working on the CIA end of Scully's abduction. He was following Krycek. Of course, Rohrer had no intention of bringing Krycek to justice. Which was why you were never implicated in Scully's abduction. But because Rohrer put in his report that you were the last person he visited before going underground, the CIA has been monitoring your movement for years." He passed the ball back to Reyes. "Carlos doesn't trust you." "I don't care if Carlos doesn't trust me," Reyes said, now the one bouncing the ball. "I made a mistake," she repeated herself. "One I regret fully. Especially now that I know Dana, that she's become my friend. But what good is letting the past control me? I am fully aware of what I did. And, being aware, I strive not to make the same mistake while at the same time, not letting the past control me. It's a harsh lesson, but, it's one that YOU could stand to learn, Fox," she passed the ball back at him. "I don't give a rat's ass if Carlos doesn't trust me. I know the others do. Dana. Jerilyn. Skinner. John... and you. I feel it. You trust me." She stared at him evenly, daring him to retort. "You know I won't let you down. And that I won't sell you or your son out to the Syndicate." Mulder scowled at her but grudgingly admitted "I shouldn't trust you. But you're right. I do. But because Scully DOES." "That's not right and you know it," Reyes challenged him. "How you feel about me has nothing to do with Dana's feelings. You've always been your own man." "Starkweather said I was a puppet once." "Starkweather is wrong. Jerilyn is wrong about a lot of things." "Such as?" now he challenged her. "Aliens," Reyes said without guile. "Ah," Mulder passed the ball back at her. "Listen to me, Agent Reyes," Mulder walked closer to her. "For whatever inexplicable reason, yes, I do trust you. I shouldn't, but I do. Maybe because once you had the opportunity to take William and hand him over to the replicants but you didn't. Maybe because I know what it's like to be young, naive and gullible. Hoping that you are doing the right thing, but finding out later you were led astray by someone you believed in. Maybe it's because like me, you stand by your convictions, no matter how insane everyone else seems to think you are. I'm not sure why, I can't answer that. Maybe because you're different from all of us. Scully, Starkweather. Doggett. Myself. You have your skeletons in the closet but you are not shackled to them. "Starkweather feels the same way. I told her about Carlos' suspicions. She literally laughed in my face. She told me who you are in public is who you are in private. And to quote my ladylike baby sister "Maybe she fucked up in the past, but she's not going to fuck US now." "But I haven't told anyone else and I'm not going to. Not even Scully." Mulder took a step closer to Reyes. "I'm telling you this as a colleague... and a friend Monica. Keep your involvement with Krycek to yourself. I'm not saying lie. I'm saying not advertise. Not mentioning it if you absolutely don't have to. I understand why and Starkweather does too... but the others might not. Especially AD Skinner and Scully... they definitely would not understand." He walked away.
Later on that night... The FBI X-File agents picked at their dismal meals later on in the mess hall. Scully suffered most of all, wrinkling her nose at the soggy green beans, applesauce and the two unappetizing main dishes choices. Either a funny smelling, Twinkie shaped hunk of pink jell that the cook claimed was a salmon loaf or mashed potatoes and a brown mystery meat on top of a slice of white bread. Both were covered with gravy. She was not only thinking of herself, the near-vegetarian. She was thinking about what on earth she was going to feed William. Who ended up demolishing an entire plate of mashed potatoes and applesauce. He was the only one with a healthy appetite. Starkweather stabbed her salmon loaf several times. "Is it still supposed to be moving?" Reyes took one bite of the mystery meat, made a face and shoved her plate away. She didn't know if the bad taste in her mouth was from the food or from her conversation with Mulder earlier that day. Even the Assistant Director, so stoic in all other ways, complained. "There must be budget cutbacks," he muttered after forcing himself to swallow the mushy beans. "I don't remember military food being this god-awful." "I give up," Doggett sighed, putting his fork down as well. "I'm just gonna get a cuppa coffee for now then raid the vending machine later on." He rose to his feet. "Careful, Puppy Man," Mulder warned him. "The coffee's toxic too." "Great," Doggett grumbled. "If you doctor it up with enough cream and sugar, it's passable," Starkweather told him, sipping on her third cup. As Doggett walked away, a young female CIA Marine, fresh-faced and pretty approached the table. "Agent Scully? Agent Mulder?" she addressed them politely. "My name is Lieutenant Juliet Shore. Agent Lux Carlos has put me in charge of the care of William during your stay here. Since it's getting close to your meeting with Agent Carlos, he sent me down here to introduce myself before just sending William off with a stranger." When neither Mulder nor Scully made a move to relinquish William over to her, she said, calmly, seriously, "I can assure you nothing will happen to William while he's in my care. I do need to know a few things though." "Such as?" Mulder demanded. "If he needs a bath. If he eats before bedtime, when bedtime is. If he has a favorite blanket or toy he sleeps with," she said, unruffled. She held out a walkie-talkie. "You can check in with me anytime," she pointed to the walkie-talkie's mate, hanging from her belt. "And if an emergency rises, I can contact you." Reyes was staring at Lieutenant Shore. So was Starkweather. "Reyes?" Scully murmured to her. "It's okay..." Reyes said finally. Starkweather continued to stare. Scully gave Lieutenant Shore a few simple instructions and then, reluctantly handed William over to her. "Hello William, my name is Juliet," she crooned. She looked up at Mulder and Scully. "Don't worry, he'll be fine." She nodded and walked away, continuing to talk to William. Starkweather continued to stare in the back of Juliet's head. "What is it?" Scully asked. "It's... nothing..." Starkweather said, trying to dismiss what she knew she couldn't. She had felt that strange connection again when she looked at Juliet. That weird sense of family that she always got from Mulder before she knew he really was her half-brother. After the Lieutenant whisked William away, the X-File Crew made their way back towards the main conference room. Carlos met them halfway there. "There you all are. Follow me please," he said crisply. He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt and baggy military pants, correctly bloused and spit-shined combat boots. However, the rest of his attire was completely against military regulations, but then, he was completely out of military authority. He had his hair dreadlocked and the braids where held back from his chiseled face with a black pony tail tie. His goatee was neatly trimmed. He had no hat. Out of character for both women, Scully and Reyes's mouths dropped open as he walked past them. "Oh my..." Reyes couldn't help muttering as Scully just blinked, staring at the six-packed belly and carved arms that breezed by her. "Scully?" Mulder waved his hands in front of Scully's face, trying to get her attention. Doggett just stifled a snicker. Skinner rolled his eyes and muttered something about women as Mulder continued to wave his hand in front of Scully's eyes. "Scully? Earth to Scully?" "Stop it Mulder," Scully commanded him. "You're blocking my view." Now Mulder's jaw dropped in disbelief as Starkweather started to laugh out loud. Mulder slunk off, sulking. Doggett and Skinner just shook their heads and continued to walk off. Both Scully and Reyes, eyebrows raised, turned to stare at Starkweather. With a careless shrug, she said airily, "I don't date ugly people," as she fell into step with the women of the X-Files. Scully smiled at her blatant arrogance. So... Mulderish of her. "Was he always...?" "Cocky? Yes. Commanding? Yes. Built like a brick shithouse? Yes." "How did you and Carlos meet?" Reyes asked. Now Starkweather reddened. "I'll tell you later," she mumbled as Lux stood by the van, waiting impatiently for the stragglers to hurry inside to take them to their next destination.
April 30, 1996 The newly created Captain Lux Carlos sat by the bar of the sad, sad officer's club, trying to make his bourbon and Coke last as long as possible. He looked longingly at the rack of cigarettes next to the cash register. One of the things he promised his mother was that he would quit smoking. And he had been doing so good until he was sent on this god-forsaken TDY. When he was actually working, there was plenty to do, but in his off hours, he was bored stiff. On base, there was nothing to do except drink or smoke or both. And off base, there was nothing to do except drink or smoke or both. Unless one got a car and drove to Kansas City. But that was a hassle in itself and Carlos didn't feel like dealing with that headache just so he could have a good time. Carlos hadn't exactly endeared himself to the senior staff of his new posting and since he was now "One of Them"', he wasn't exactly finding friends amongst the enlisted. Which was fine. He was their superior, not their friend. He earned his title and his stripes, deserved to have them salute him. He made it a point to never be rude to them, but made damn sure they realized that he was God when he entered the room and his orders were exactly that, orders. Carlos stifled a sigh and waved the bartender over. "Sir, what can I get for you?" the bartender said pleasantly. "A pack of Morleys," he sighed, pulling out a five. Just as he lit up, the one man he could call a friend materialized. "Rohrer," Carlos said pleasantly, "What are you up to?" "Kicking the shit out of some powder puff airman," the Marine boasted. Like Carlos, Lieutenant Knowle Rohrer was sent out to Whitehead AFB on TDY or temporary duty in layman's terms. What a Marine was doing on an Air Force Base in Missouri was beyond Carlos, but like any good soldier, he didn't ask questions, just did what he was told. After Rohrer ordered his gin and tonic, Carlos jokingly told the bartender: "Instead of ice, put nails in it instead for the tough guy Marine." "Yes sir," the bartender said colorlessly as he prepared Rohrer's beverage of choice. "So, what are you up to tonight?" Rohrer asked as Carlos took another drag of his cigarette. "You're lookin' at it." Carlos lifted his glass. "Cheers." "Wanna bust some balls tonight?" "Come again?" "Scare the shit outta some enlisted?" "Aw," Carlos squirmed slightly. "I don't know..." "One of the one-striper airmen was running his mouth off about his new toy today..." "Oh yeah? Define new?" "A '96 Kawasaki Ninja." "Damn..." Carlos nodded his head. "I'd be bragging too." "Not me, I'm a Harley man, all the way." "Been to Sturgis?" "Hell yeah. Twice already. Plan on going back next year. Anyway, this idiot's going on about his Ninja and starts ripping on Hondas. Well, another peon with one-stripe gets his tighties in a knot because HE has a Honda. So tonight... these idiots are gonna put their money where their mouths are." "You don't say?" A mischievous twinkle lit up Carlos's eyes. "A group of them, after night roll call are going to head out to the back roads and see which one has more power. They'd piss themselves if a couple of officers just happen to stumble out there and find out what they've been doing." "Not, that they're technically doing anything wrong," The twinkle in Carlos' eyes brightened for he possessed an impish sort of soul. He was the kind of guy who would put a rubber eyeball in someone's soup, a fake snake in someone's footlocker. Of course, those days were behind him, an officer couldn't do that, but still just because he had more stripes, more money and more prestige, didn't lessen his wicked sense of fun. Besides, those damn airmen should know better. Drag-racing. On a pitch black country road. On motorcycles. Rohrer was right. They were idiots. "What time is your ugly ass picking me up?" Carlos drained the rest of his drink. Later on that night... "Woo-hoo! Smoked your sorry ass!" "Hell, I gave you a head start. Felt sorry for you." "Bullshit." "Let me try." "Aw, hell, Bailey, that's too much bike for you, little girl." "Excuse me?? That's hardly politically correct." "Ignore him Bail, he's just afraid a chick's gonna toast him." "Yeah, he's jealous you've got more balls that he does." "Jackson, if that was supposed to be a compliment," Senior Airman Jerilyn Bailey, with an evil little grin on her face, turned to face her fellow airman. "Then we all just figured out why you're single." Airman Jackson, used to her abuse, took her snide comment with a grain of salt amongst the hooting and guffawing of his friends. "And what's YOUR excuse?" he retorted good naturedly. "I only date men and there is a surprising lack of them around here," she replied with a sweet smile. The owner of the new Kawasaki, Airman Bryce shook his head. "Bailey, your mouth's gonna get you in trouble one of these days." "An A1C is giving a Senior Airman advice on conduct?" Jerilyn teased him. "Now THAT'S funny." The "guys", as the pack of the five airmen medics that all hung out together at Whitehead AFB were known as, liked Jerilyn almost instantly. Partially because her fresh, pretty face peeking out from underneath her BDU cap was a sight for sore masculine eyes. It was nice to have a female around that actually looked like a female, despite the uniform, despite the regulation hair-do, a merciless bun. Partially because she was a hard worker, she definitely was not a "malingerer" or a slacker. Give her a shit assignment, sure she'd probably gripe all the way through, but it would be done, and done flawlessly. But mostly they enjoyed her company because she wasn't a status conscious snob or a femi-Nazi or a loose tramp. To sum it up, she was just a nice girl. A nice girl with a cutting tongue, sure, but they could include in on outings and not worry about impressing her or minding their manners around her. And she was fun. When the boredom becomes crushing, a fun personality is more intoxicating that a straight shot of Everclear. They knew before she even left for her main base at Luke AFB in Arizona that they were going to miss her after her TDY was completed. Bryce laughed. "Careful, Miss Senior Airman, I'm up for a promotion. I test next week." "Helpful hint when you test. Don't use crayons." The other airmen chuckled a little as Jerilyn crossed over to parked Kawasaki Ninja and climbed on. She reached for the helmet Bryce held. "Come on Bryce," she crooned. "I'll conveniently leave my Air Force coins home the next time we have a coin check at the bar," she fluttered her eyelashes. "Yeah, whatever," Bryce said but he handed her the helmet. The owner of the 1995 Honda Shadow A.C.E. climbed back onto his bike and revved his engine. "This hardly seems fair," Senior Airman Baumbardner ribbed her. Bryce stood in between the Ninja and the A.C.E. He raised his hands high in the air. "On your marks," he crowed, "Set... GO!" he dropped his hands. Both bikes enveloped him in a cloud of dust. "Go Bailey! GO!" Jackson cheered her on, over the catcalls and shouts of the other airmen. Meanwhile, Rohrer and Carlos, having left the car a mile behind them, had stealthily prowled towards the airmen. After Jerilyn and Baumbardner took off, Rohrer and Carlos sprang from their hiding places and pounced upon the unsuspecting soldiers. "Just what do you think you're doing, airmen?" Carlos barked at them in his most official voice. But this time, the airmen did not snap to attention. "Jesus fucking Christ!!!" Jackson yelled. "A car! A car!" A pair of headlights was heading towards them, and towards the drag racers. Carlos felt his stomach drop into his boots. "Oh my God," he whispered as he watched the entire horrifying scene play out. He, along with Rohrer and the other airmen started to run upon hearing the terrible sound of brakes screeching to a halt and metal scraping along the blacktop.
Amos McCartney had knocked back one too many Coors Lites that night, as usual. And as usual, he was having trouble picking which lane he wanted to drive in. The beers didn't make him irritable or irrational, just sleepy. His rusted out Ford Ranger pickup veered over to the wrong side of the lane as his eyes drooped. His eyes popped open just in time to see the dual headlights of two motorcycles flying towards him. Gasping, he gripped the steering wheel and jerked the car away from the speeding Ninja. Baumbardner swerved to avoid the out of control pick up truck as it screeched past him and into the ditch. In doing so, he lost control of his bike and rammed Jerilyn, the front wheel of his bike clipping the front wheel of hers. The Ninja flipped, sending Jerilyn airborne. It was too dark, nobody saw her small figure fly through the air, crash upon the hard pavement, bounce once, twice, roll a few feet, and then, laying very very still, on her side. Meanwhile, the other airmen, Rohrer and Carlos had made it to the accident scene. Jackson and Bryce ran to the truck in the ditch as the other airmen, Myers and Iglesias joined Rohrer and Carlos by the trashed bikes. Baumbardner was a few feet away from the pile of twisted metal, alive and screaming in pain. "My arm! My leg! My arm! My leg!" he howled, rocking back and forth, in total shock. Bone jutted out of a nasty tear in his jeans. Blood was everywhere. "Where's the girl?" Rohrer demanded him as Myers and Iglesias examined him. Meanwhile Jackson and Bryce called out from the pickup, "The civvie's dead!" "Where's the girl!" Rohrer yelled at Baumbardner as Myers took off his shirt to make a poor man's splint for his shattered leg. Carlos snatched the flashlight from Iglesias and shined it across the road. He saw the crumpled form, laying lifeless on the road. "Rohrer! Over here!" he snapped at Rohrer as he ran towards the injured woman. Carlos reached Jerilyn only minutes before Rohrer and Iglesias. <<Oh God, she's dead...>> was his first panicked thought as he crouched down, taking off her helmet, feeling around her neck for a pulse. Which he found, to his immense relief, was nice and strong. "She's alive!" he called out to Rohrer and Iglesias. Iglesias, like the other airmen, a medic, pushed Carlos aside and began to assess Jerilyn's injuries. "Might be some trauma to her neck and spinal cord," he said grimly as he carefully rolled her to her back, holding her head gently to stabilize the spinal cord. "Possible cranial injuries. Somebody call somebody, we might need to air-lift her to-" "No," Rohrer said quietly. "We handle this all within the military. No civilian hospitals." Carlos stared at him. "What the fuck man???" he spluttered, standing up, getting in Rohrer's face. "Keep it within the military? Are you out of your goddamned mind? There's a dead civilian, an airman bleeding like a stuck pig and another airmen who might be a cripple or a goner or both if we don't get her to a hospital and you're trying to tel-" Rohrer cut him off. "She doesn't need to go to a civilian hospital. Look, her eyes are open." Carlos looked down. Sure enough, her eyes, wide, staring and sparkling had opened. Then her mouth opened just enough for a small pink tongue to slip out and lick her lips. "Somebody get the license number of that clusterfuck?" she croaked out as she struggled to sit up. Iglesias tried to get her to lie back down. "Bailey, don't-" "Relax," she said wearily, sitting up. "I can feel my toes. I know my name and my birthdate and today's date. I'm fine." She looked down at the side of her right leg, touching it gingerly. Wincing at her own touch. "Ow. Okay. I might need ice." She looked at the palms of her scraped up hands and sighed. "A lot of ice." "I wanna bring you back to the clinic. I wanna run X-Rays. Make sure there's no internal injuries." Carlos could have sworn he heard Rohrer mutter, "You won't find any." "Jesus, Bailey," Iglesias said, relief evident in his voice. "You know how damn lucky you are?" "I can hazard a guess," she muttered, trying to get to her feet. Iglesias bent down, scooped her up and carried her away. Carlos wouldn't see her again until three weeks later. January 2, 2002 The van stopped. "Oh, thank God," Starkweather rotated her head to try and crack her neck. "God, I am one giant cramp." "Well, that solves the mystery behind your charming personality." "Fuck you, Mulder." "Only if we get south of Mason-Dixon Line." "Hey, I take offense at that," Doggett said flatly. "We go after our cousins, not half-sisters," he added with a self-deprecating grin. Starkweather snorted. Scully and Reyes groaned. Skinner sighed. "Everyone out," Carlos turned the van off, but not the headlights. The FBI X-Files Division more than happily got out of the decrepit van. Although Carlos assured them that it was more than it seemed. The body and windows were bullet-resistant and could go from zero to ninety in two-point-five seconds. "All the money spent on that," Starkweather had bitched after Carlos explained the work done on the very ordinary looking van, "and they couldn't have chipped in the extra thousand more to put in a decent set of shocks and struts." Everyone stood now, in the middle of the road. There was nothing but desert cloaked in twilight no matter what direction they looked. "Okay," Mulder said. "I give up. What are we looking for?" "The reason why the CIA didn't spend the extra money on a decent set of shocks and struts," Carlos said just as his cell phone rang. "Carlos... yes.... yes... excellent..." Starkweather half-expected him to put his pinkie to his mouth a la Dr. Evil of the "Austin Powers" movies. Carlos hung up. "Ladies and gentlemen, direct your attention north," he pointed towards two sparkling lights in the distance. The lights kept coming closer. "What the hell?" Doggett said the first thing all night since their unenthusiastic dinner. "We have to overtake three semi trucks," Carlos said as the lights, clearly headlights now, zoomed closer to them. "They have the advantage of size. We are going to have the advantage of speed." "Speed?" Reyes' eyebrows rose. Doggett noticed that she was shivering in the chill of the desert, so he shrugged off the flannel shirt he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt and wordlessly handed it to her. Part of her face was shadowed, but the part that was lit out by the van's headlights revealed her grateful smile. Starkweather observed the entire scene dispassionately. "Speed and guns," Carlos said lightly. "Lots of guns." "Jesus, did I step onto the set of a shoot-'em-up-kill-'em-all movie?" Starkweather groaned. "Here they come," Carlos ignored Starkweather's snide comment. As if on cue, all the X-Filers put their hands up to their eyes to protect their sight from the glaring lights of the headlights as the vehicles screeched to a halt. "Oooooh," Starkweather said. "Pretty..." "So much for buying American," Mulder deadpanned. Doggett whistled through his teeth. "Who cares?" "Amen," Starkweather agreed. Scully and Reyes looked at each other and shrugged, not impressed. Carlos looked at his Indigo-Go watch, frowned, then looked up at the FBI X-Files Division. "Ladies and gentlemen, the 2002 Toyota Supra, the world's fastest street legal car." He looked at Scully. "Think you can handle one of these." "What?" Scully's eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. "Not fair," Starkweather pouted. Another set of lights lit up behind them. "This is probably our only shot at a dress rehearsal," Carlos said. "Our source says time is running short. Bravo has gone underground. Our source suspects she's gone back to DC to look for the good Agent Doggett and the lovely Dr. Starkweather. Once she figures out they're AWOL, she's going to demand the green light to transport the hostages and the Black Oil. Our source is thinking this is going to go down at dawn." "Jesus," Skinner groaned. The rumble of a caravan roared as a semi-truck rumbled up behind them. The driver of the semi put the truck in idle as the CIA agent in the passenger seat hopped out and ran around the truck. As Carlos continued to talk, the agent opened the back of the truck's trailer. "Doggett and Starkweather, you will be going after Bravo. I'll leave it up to you to decide who drives..." Doggett and Starkweather looked at each other. "Ready?" she asked, balling her fist. "One, two, three." Both of them kept their hands balled in fists. "Dammit," Starkweather muttered. "Okay, one, two, three." Both of them had selected "Scissors." "Goddammit. Okay, one, two, three." Doggett kept his hand in a fist, Starkweather held hers out as if she was going to give a high-five. "HA! Paper beats rock," she slapped Doggett's fist, hard. "OW!" "Fine, now that's settled," Carlos said smoothly. "Doggett, Starkweather. Your mission, seek out the truck that Bravo's on. Take the bitch out. You're not FBI anymore. Your ass belongs to CIA now. Rules and morals are out the window, get that through your heads right now. Reyes," he turned to her. "As soon as Doggett and Starkweather are go, Reyes, you call for the Phoenix Field Office and PD for back up and roadblocks. I will be ahead, scoping out with trucks has the Purity and which has the hostages. You and Skinner go. Overpower the truck with the hostages. Then Mulder and Scully are a go. Take out the truck with the Purity." "So...." Starkweather drawled. "Basically, our entire plan for saving these people is a rip-off from the movie "The Fast and the Furious"?" "Actually, I got the idea while watching "Days of Thunder" but sure, that will work," Carlos said blithely. Serious again, "Look, the best plans are the ones that allow for flexibility. You all know how dangerous and versatile the Syndicate is." "Especially with those fucking Supah Soldiers," Starkweather reminded him. "How in the hell are we supposed to overtake the trucks if they're being guarded by them??" "We can't kill them, but we can slow them down, they are notoriously slow healers, even though they DO heal, you BOTH know that. Shoot them in the head, that will slow them down." "Yeah, and have 'em roll the truck," Doggett reminded him. "What about booby-traps?" Reyes burst out. "Suicide bombs, things like that? What if the Syndicate has the semis rigged to blow up if they are overpowered?" "From "The Fast and the Furious" to "Speed" this gets fucking better and better," Starkweather shook her head and looked to the stars. "Lux, I don't have a lot to live for right now, but I'm THAT suicidal. Not quite yet. Did you REALLY pick us because we have all this Syndicate experience, or because nobody was fool enough to accept this job?" Fed up with her constant questioning, Carlos stalked over to her, grabbed her upper arm and said icily "Agent Starkweather, a word, in private please?" as he pulled her away from the group. As Starkweather and Carlos began to argue heatedly in the distance, Reyes said softly, "She's got a point. Are we special or stupid?" "We are a special kind of stupid, Agent Reyes," Mulder said blandly. Scully shook her head. "I don't know... I'm starting to lean towards Starkweather's way of thinking... this sounds very far-fetched. I've been half-expecting him to tell us that with a little faith and pixie dust, we can pull this off." Quietly, Skinner spoke up. "This is the way I see this. Aliens, no aliens. Super soldiers, regular men. It doesn't matter. There's a job to do. There are lives on the line. When I was in Viet Nam, we were ordered to go on some insane missions. Men came back from those missions insane. But we had an objective and we had orders and by God, we were going to achieve those objectives because we were Marines. With what little tools offered to us. I did not join the Marines to be a hero, to gain adoration or power. My father was a veteran and a patriot. He swore to protect this country from all enemies, foreign and domestic and he passed that passion down to me. And I joined the FBI for the same reasons. I have no desire to become a hero or a martyr. But there is a job to do. There is a clear objective and we have our orders and by God, I am going to do my damndest to achieve those objectives. With what little tools offered to us. I swore that when the World Trade Towers collapsed and the Pentagon burned and I swore that when I was approached to help with the CIA-FBI cooperative against the Syndicate. Because I made a promise to defend this country against all threats, foreign or domestic," he took off his glasses, wiped off a smudge on the left lens, then put them back on. "At least, that's how I see it." Doggett, also a veteran, said gruffly, "Well said, sir." The other agents were humbled into silence. Meanwhile... "UP, EVERYONE UP!" a guard yelled, flipping on the lights, banging on the bars with a police baton. Instantly the little girls started to cry. Some of the women did as well. The Cancer Man followed the guard, looking over "the merchandise." Frowning, he turned to the guard. "Have they been fed and watered yet today?" he inquired, as if they were cattle. "No sir. They are on starvation rations. We don't have very much in the food supplies." The Cancer Man nodded again, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. After lighting up, he instructed the guard. "Make sure they are fed every day. At least once. And a constant supply of fresh water. We don't want them dying before reaching our destination. As soon as Bravo achieves her objective in hunting out the rogue agents, we'll be transporting them out." "Yes sir." The Cancer Man then said quietly, "Samita Saint-Claire, step forward." Samita lifted her head. She had claimed one of the corners of the cramped cell they stuffed the hostages in. She cradled her sister Felitza, who was beaten almost beyond recognition, in her arms for the most time. The bastards in Hawaii forced Samita to watch them torture her. "This is what happens to traitors," one of those guards gleefully told Samita as he put his cigarette out on Felitza's forehead. "Too bad your daddy isn't here to see this." Samita carefully laid Felitza on the floor, then stood up, smoothing her dress with an Audrey Hepburn grace. She walked forward, stood at the bars, facing the Cancer Man, tilting her chin up just a little. The Cancer Man regarded her coldly, as if he was a rancher externally examining a horse before bidding. He cataloged the blue eyes, the light brown hair. The soft white skin, the heart-shaped face, the small hands and narrow waist. He said nothing, only stared and smoked. Finally, Samita was the one who broke the silence. "Who are you?" Samita asked in a soft drawling voice. "What do you want with us?" Her eyes narrowed to slits, reminding the Cancer Man of the illustrious Dr. Starkweather when she was on the warpath. Just then, another guard came running down the stairs. "Sir, you said to alert us as to any news..." he ran out of breath. The Cancer Man tore his eyes away from Samita. She turned and ran back to her sister, clinging to her. Felitza opened her one good eye and tried to smile at her. Jeremiah Smith and Gibson Praise sat quietly side by side, in the opposite corner of Samita and Felitza. "Sir, we just received word... Mulder and Scully have disappeared." A big smile erupted on Gibson's face. A huge frown erupted on the Cancer Man's. "When?" "We're assuming late last nig-" "Assume..." the Cancer Man shook his head. "People die when others assume, you realize that, don't you?" "We believe that someone from inside the FBI helped them go underground." "Why is that?" "Agent Reyes and Assistant Director Skinner are missing too." Angrily, the Cancer Man dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it out with the heel of his well polished shoe. He lit up another one. "Find them," he hissed at the shivering guard. "Send word to Bravo and find them. All of them." He looked over at the cell full of prisoners, his eyes lingering on Samita. Samita clung to Felitza even tighter. "The Assistant Director needs a reminder of whose side the winning side," the Cancer Man said silkily. "You," he said to the first guard. "Take the boy." "No," Samita cried out, not knowing why. "Please..." "Mrs. Saint-Claire," Gibson said to her. "It's alright. Really. It's better me than you or the little kids..." he stood up and stared at the Cancer Man, reading his mind, eyes widening at the revelation of his black thoughts. "That's right," the Cancer Man said coldly to Gibson as the guard entered the cell and after handcuffing him, drug him out. "I know you can read my thoughts and now you know the truth. Too bad HE never will." He nodded curtly to the guard. "Take him to my office and sedate him. I'll decide what to do with him later." As the other guard took Gibson Praise away, the Cancer Man turned back to the messenger. "What about the child? Mulder and Scully's son?" "He's gone too." "Dammit," he seethed. "Tell Bravo to find all of them. And be sure to bring the child and Dr. Starkweather to me." He took one last glance at Samita and stormed away. As the guard turned the lights off again, the children began to sob louder. Samita started to weep along with them, having no idea why this dark, secret organization would take such an interest in a simple kindergarten teacher from Virginia. While the terrified tears slid down her dirty face, Samita thought as she clung to her half-sister <<Felitza, Marita... what have you gotten yourselves into?>>
Later... Weary, aching and depressed beyond words, the agents walked single file back into their barracks. Despite Skinner's words of wisdom, the "test drive" so to speak, did not go well at all. Not even Starkweather could muster up a snippy little joke on the miserable ride back. Weighing heavily on their minds and hearts that it was up to them to save fifteen innocent people... and possibly an innocent child who was sleeping back at the CIA training base. "G'night," Starkweather mumbled half-heartedly to everyone as she let herself into the dorm room she was sharing with Reyes. But she did not get ready for bed as Reyes did. "Jerilyn?" Reyes' brow crinkled in concern as Starkweather sat upon her bed and finally took off the Artic cat she had been wearing about non-stop. When Starkweather turned it inside out and started fumbling with the lining, Reyes asked "What.... are you doing?" "You didn't see this," Starkweather muttered as she opened the false pocket and took out the file. Sighing, she put the sealed file on her bed and bent down to dig for her spare reading glasses somewhere in the depths of her duffel bag. She hoped Mulder remembered to pack them. "Dammit, he forgot them..." she groaned aloud. "Forgot what... Jerilyn, what is going on?" Starkweather stood up. "As soon as I figure it out, I'll fill you in." "Jerilyn, can't it wait until morning? You're exhausted and for all we know, we may have to pull that crazy stunt first thing in the morning," Reyes protested. "It's waited too long as is," Starkweather closed her eyes. "Look, Reyes... I... oh shit, look..." Starkweather opened her eyes. "It's not because I don't trust you, okay? I'm not even telling Doggett I'm looking at this now." She squeezed her hands together and pressed them into her forehead, struggling a way to explain herself to a woman who had been nothing but a friend to her. She unclasped her hands, let them rise into the air, then fall to her sides. "It could be a fat lot of nothing. I don't want to scare or worry anyone needlessly. That's all. That's why Doggett and I didn't broadcast we found this file, this file," she bit her lip, debated, and made a judgment call. "With William's name and birthdate on it in South Dakota at the lab." Reyes went white, but she nodded. "I understand." "Okay." Starkweather pursed her lips together. "Okay..." she snatched up the file. "I'll be quiet when I come back." She slipped from the room. Reyes undressed, slipped into a long black gown she grabbed without thinking when she rapidly packed for this nightmare. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Meanwhile, just as Starkweather left her room, she saw the mysterious Lieutenant Shore leaving Mulder and Scully's room. "Hey," Starkweather said to Shore's retreating back. Shore just kept walking. "Hey, I'm TALKING to you, Lieutenant!" Starkweather barked, stalking after the woman. Lieutenant Shore paused, turned around. "Who are you?" Starkweather got in her face just as the door to Mulder and Scully's room swung open. Mulder poked out his head, frowned when he saw the confrontation and went to join his sister. Shore looked over Starkweather's shoulder and smiled when she saw the approaching Mulder. "A concerned individual," she demurred. "Now, if you will excuse me, Agent Starkweather. I have a plane to catch." She left. "What was that all about?" Mulder queried her. Starkweather didn't turn around. "Boo okay?" "Sound asleep. He's completely fine... why?" Now she turned around. "Mulder, I've got to be losing it. I mean, going insane in style... because... I can't explain it... but I think that was Lily Stratford." "She looked nothing like you." "That's why I think I'm losing my mind." Mulder smiled at her, "Get some sleep. You're probably just overtired." He ruffled her hair. She batted his hands away. "Quit it." "I mean it, Jerilyn. You look like hell." "No wonder it took you nine years to hook up with Scully. You're not exactly the master of compliments are you?" Mulder looked down at the thick file in her hand. "Is that...?" She nodded. "I would love to sleep, but I can't." "I can stay up and read it with you-" "No," she shook her head. "Please. No. I work better by myself. I promise to tell you if any red flags are raised. I swear. But it might be a pack of nothing too." Mulder gave up. It was like fighting against himself and he knew how stubborn he was. "Don't stay up too late." "Yes, dad." Starkweather quipped as Mulder went back to bed. She wandered down to the very very small TV lounge at the end of the hall, next to Carlos' room. She sat down on the very uncomfortable couch, slit the tape binding the file with her thumbnail and opened it up, spreading the papers out on the decrepit coffee table. She was very aware how quiet the entire complex was. After reading the file's contents, she wished she had been right about it being a pack of nothing. Scooping up the papers and stuffing them back into the file, she marched over to Carlos' door and pounded on it. Bleary eyed and surprised, he answered. "What? Jerilyn, what is it?" "I need to talk to you," she said brusquely, pushing past him, walking into his room. Carlos, clad in only a pair of white linen pajamas bottoms, stared after her. "Come on in," he muttered. Starkweather looked around his room. It was just as small and Spartan as the others, but it had more a of sense of permanence to it. On top of the simple oak computer desk were a few small framed photographed, a cell phone and a flat-screened Hewlett-Packard computer, complete with a printer, scanner and fax. On top of the dresser that matched the computer desk was a small television with a built in VCR. The bed rumpled navy blue comforter and sheets. All except for the bed, were non-military issue. Starkweather had a feeling this pitiful room was where Carlos called home most of the time. Brushing aside sympathy, she turned to him after taking mental photographs of this room and pasting the images indelibly in her mind. "I don't trust you," she said bluntly. "We've established that," Carlos said coolly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He was completely awake now. "But I need your help. This," she held out the file. "Is your opportunity to prove me wrong." "What is that?" "What Doggett and I didn't show everybody back in Washington. We found it in a file cabinet back in South Dakota." Carlos took the file, "Mulder... William Christopher..." he read aloud. He looked up at her. "You should have told us about this right away," he scolded her. "I didn't want to scare everybody if I didn't have to," Starkweather retorted, jerking up her chin. "Lord knows Mulder and Scully have already been through hell because of that kid. And he's not even a year old yet." "What do you need me to do?" Carlos was all business now. "I need that information in that file verified. I need to know if it's true." "How can I do that?" She gave him one of her patented "Surely you CAN'T be this stupid" looks and told him patiently "Read the information in that file and you will know what I need you to do." She sat down on the bed, folding up her legs to sit Indian-style. Carlos pulled out the chair by his desk and sat down. Began reading. For the next forty-five minutes, there was no sound except for paper shuffling. When Carlos finished reading, he leaned back in his chair. "Well?" Starkweather had barely moved the entire time. "Thoughts?" "Is this is true... well," he stood up. "It doesn't explain EVERYTHING..." "Oh, of *course* not," she grumbled. "But it explains a lot. A hell of a lot," he looked over at the woman on his bed, her eyes burning like the first sunset, her face white like the first moonrise. "This is a tall order, Jerilyn." "But can it be done?" Starkweather now slid off the bed and walked over to him. "Do we want to tell Mulder WHY we need a DNA sample from him and William?" Carlos asked. Starkweather debated. "If we possibly avoid it... I just don't want to put anyone else through any more misery than possible. And why have him and Scully sit and sweat about something that could be wrong. Especially if we need them to focus on the task at hand..." "What about you?" Carlos asked her softly. "Are you going to be able to hold it together?" "I don't have a choice," she said bitterly. "I have to." She looked up at him. "What about...?" "Like I said," Carlos said. "It's a tall order, but not impossible. I'll start on it right now." She softened, just a little. "Thank you, Lux." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to bed." She let herself out, shutting the door behind her quietly. Carlos picked up the phone and dialed. "Bunny, it's Carlos. Listen, sorry about waking you up, but I need you to take a field trip to the Pentagon. I don't think the evidence room was destroyed in the September 11 attacks. I'm faxing you some information," one by one, Carlos slipped in the papers and watched the fax crank it through. "Now." But Starkweather didn't go back to her room. Not when she heard the lone drone of the television in the break room. "I know I didn't have that on," she murmured. So she padded over to see who else was up past their bedtime. "I should have known," she said when she entered the room. Doggett turned his head. "Mornin'." By the glow of television, Starkweather checked her watch. "In a manner of speaking, sure." She walked around the couch and plunked down on the uncomfortable armchair next to the uncomfortable couch Doggett was sitting on. He had his socked feet propped up on the ugly coffee table. Starkweather finally unlaced her hiking boots, kicked them off with a sigh of satisfaction, pulled off her socks, then put her own bare feet on the ugly little coffee table as well. "What are you watching?" "I have no idea," Doggett said honestly. As Starkweather sniggered, he asked her, "Why are you still up?" "Finally cracked open the mystery file." "Without me? I'm hurt," Doggett said playfully but when she didn't make the expected wiseass retort, he became very serious. "What did you find?" "Not what we expected." "Does it have to do with William?" "Yes... and no..." she looked towards the television, biting her thumbnail. "What the hell kind of answer is that?" Doggett was puzzled at her elusive reply, as he should be for Mrs. Starkweather called things for what they were and gave a direct answer to a direct question. "The only one I can give right now, now," she said wearily. "Before you get all pissed off at me, just trust me on this, please. I'm not withholding information because I don't trust you. I'm withholding information until whether or not it's true or not. If it's wrong, we'll all have a big laugh about it." "And if it IS true?" Doggett asked. "I'll kill myself," she said blackly. When she noticed his horrified expression, she rolled her eyes and snapped at him. "I'm *kidding.* Jesus, I'm not going to throw myself into the Grand Canyon or take a bath facedown." She looked back at the TV again. "But I won't be happy, that's for damn sure." "Well," Doggett said irritably. "Don't be sayin' things like *that* then. It's morbid." "God, I am going to buy you a sense of humor when we get home." "Pick up a box of tact for yourself." "Christ, what is your problem?" "MY problem?" Doggett asked incredulously. "My problem? I'm not the one with a problem here, honey." "You're right," she seethed, picking up her socks and shoes. "You're right because you're not the one who is being ignored by your partner when the AD looks your partner funny because he has a promotion on the line, are you?" she spat out nastily. "Oh, that is bullshit and you know it!" Doggett, stung by the unfairness of her sallie, protested. He got up. "You wanna be mad, pissed off at the world, fine. Do it. God knows you have ever right." He got in her face, "but don't you ever take it out on me if I don't deserve it. And you know I didn't deserve *that*." He turned on his heel and stalked out. Starkweather sank back into her chair. With her bare foot, she kicked the leg of the coffee table out of sheer frustration. From inside his room, Carlos sighed and shook his head as he read the email he had just gotten back from Bunny. <<Kids, kids, kids, you've got to remember that the walls are thin around here>> he thought as he listened to Doggett and Starkweather argue, then to Doggett stomping down the hall and slamming the door to his room shut. His eyes flicked over to one of the small photographs on his desk. He had only dared to take one picture of her when he disappeared into the CIA. And it was so outdated it wasn't even funny. She didn't even look like that when he first met her. He guessed that this photograph of her on his desk was taken sometime in 1992 or 1993, just by judging by the ridiculously trendy hairstyle, a style only a teenage girl in the early Nineties would sport. They had started seeing each other in 1996. Her hair was all one length, very long, no bangs and un-dyed. He wished she would go back to her natural rich chocolate brown color. He wished he could go back in time.
May 19, 1996 Captain Lux Carlos chalked it up to bad luck. Just as he finally started to make friends at Whitehead AFB, he received his transfer orders to his next base, ending his TDY at Whitehead but also his duty at Andrews AFB in Florida. Carlos took it with a grain of salt. Such was the way of the military. Another fine example of the military way was Rohrer. Carlos never saw him after that night with the motorcycle accident. He didn't even say goodbye. But to be completely honest, that really didn't bother Carlos. He lost all his respect for the Marine because of his actions that insane night. Carlos also didn't see the culprits of the drag race around either. That didn't surprise him though. He didn't expect to see them as since he worked with Security Forces and not with the medics. Plus he figured that they had been disciplined severely for their recklessness and therefore, keeping a low profile. If they hadn't been dishonorably discharged, which was entirely possible. He did wonder time to time what happened to that crazy girl with the tomcat eyes, but he did not inquire about it. His buddies kept buying him drinks and he was doing his damnest to keep up. The music was loud and pounding, like his head would be the next morning, but Carlos was having a damn fine time, knocking back shots and eyeing the lovely ladies with their pixie haircuts and baby-doll dresses. There were a few "riot girls" spotted here and there, but after being around woman forced to dress like men, Lux, and the others had eyes only for glaringly apparent femininity. Lux's eyes wandered over to a gaggle of giggling women, all of them beautiful, all of them trendy, all of them drunk as skunks. Except one. She was the only one of her group not dressed up to the nines. Instead of a dress or a skirt, she wore a pair of very faded Calvin Klein jeans with a rip in the knee, a black t-shirt that accentuated her curves instead of acting like a second skin and a pair of black loafers with a chunky high heel. Her face, pretty but plain, was heart-shaped and very pale. Her hair, long and straight, was parted neatly down the middle and so brown, it looked almost black. She was sans jewelry, sans makeup, sans artifice and sans happiness. She looked bored as hell as she stirred her drink and rolled her eyes at the stupid comment one of her girlfriends had just made. She definitely was not breathtakingly beautiful, but her clothes, her poise and her attitude telegraphed she realized that and also that she didn't give a damn. Which compensated for her lack of striking looks by surrounding her with an attractive aura that was extremely intriguing. To Carlos anyway. That and she had a kick-ass body didn't hurt either. Her face may be average, but Carlos took inventory of the defined arms, the tiny torso, the flat belly which contrasted nicely with the gentle swelling of breasts and hips and the illusion that she long legs despite the fact she had to be maybe five-three without the heels if she was lucky. After taking stock, he decided that this was merchandise that he would be more than happy to take home. Then her eyes flicked over towards his direction and to Carlos, in the five seconds she took to look at him, before checking out his friend, then checking out his friend's friend... that her eyes literally seemed to change colors... amber... gold... green... emerald...and back to amber again. "Holy shit..." Carlos muttered, finally recognizing her. "You know her?" One of his friends asked him. Carlos flashed a grin at him. "I will by the end of the night." He flagged down a waitress and with a smile and a big tip, persuaded her to find out what the lady with the multicolor eyes and the black tee was drinking and bring her another one, on him. "Smooth Lux," Captain Hunter Smith drawled as they watched her arch an eyebrow at the waitress when she brought her a fresh adult beverage. "Very smooth. And oh so original." Carlos cuffed his buddy good naturedly and meandered his way over to the tomboyish swan surrounded by the gaggle of cackling geese. "Hi," he gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. "Hello," she had a small, secretive smile on her face. She bolted what was left in her old drink glass, handed it to him and sipped demurely at her fresh drink. "To what do I owe this honor?" "It's not an honor," Carlos said honestly. "Oh?" "It's a bribe." "A bribe?" Now both eyebrows were up high. Her girlfriends were giggling as if they were still in junior high. "For a dance," he held out a hand. "I hate looking like an idiot on the dance floor by myself." Now the little smile turned into a full Cheshire cat's grin. She tilted back her head, swallowed the short Jack and Coke in what looked to be two gulps and put her glass on the railing behind her. "Let's go," she purred. "Let's see if you can keep up." A classic from The Artist Formally Known as Prince was blaring from the speakers. "Oh seven and we'll watch them fall..." "My name is Lux," he yelled in her tiny, delectable ear as he put his hands on her hips and brought her close to him. Still wearing a wicked little feline smirk, she made a tricky little undulation with her hips that turned him on and somehow moved her a decorous step away from him. "I know who you are, Captain," she informed him as she rested her small hands on his broad shoulders and moved like a belly dancer to the beat. Carlos felt his mouth drop open. "Wha..." "I remember you from the night of the accident, *sir*," she informed him as she started to sing along with the lyrics of the refrain "Oh seven, and we'll watch them fall, it stand in the way of love and we will smoke them all..." she laughed. "But I wasn't in uniform," he was completely befuddled now. Now she pressed herself into him, "I've seen you around base. I've even saluted you a time or two." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "But until tonight, we've never been properly introduced. Nice move with the drink by the way. Smooth, very smooth. And oh so original." Carlos, drunk off of the feel of her silky hands on the back of his neck, the smell of her perfume and the umpteen shots he consumed earlier that night, laughed. It was hard to take offense at potshots when they were coming from such a pretty, pouty mouth. She was becoming prettier the more they danced. "What's your name?" "Jerilyn." Carlos frowned. It was incredibly hard to hear in the club. "Marilyn?" "No, Jerilyn." "Carolyn?" He was playing with her now. "No," now she giggled. "Jerilyn." "Heroin?" She laughed and wrapped her arms around him. She felt good. "Oh seven and we'll watch them fall
May 20, 1996 "Hey! Wait! Jerilyn, wait!" Jerilyn whirled around at the sound of her name. Her friends giggled. She was getting ready to slap them. Carlos ran up to her. "Didn't want to lose you," he panted, holding out a cocktail napkin. "My hotel number is on there, now," he took her hand and put the napkin in it, "I'm not asking you to call me to come over. I'm asking you to call me because I want to take you out to dinner tomorrow." "Dinner?" she said in a skeptical tone. "Yes," he withdrew his hand. "At a restaurant of your choice. And you don't have to worry about me stalking you if I'm not you kind of guy. I'm transferring out of Whitehead in a few days. I'll be nothing more but a bad memory. But I'd love to talk to you without screaming over techno music." She neatly folded the napkin and slid it into her back pocket. "I'll think about it," she demurred. "Carlos! Come on!" "Bailey, hurry up!!" "Bailey?" he looked at her, confused. "Last name," she told him. "Senior Airman Jerilyn M. Bailey, medic... sir," she snapped a perfect salute at him. She grinned at him and said "See you around, Captain," and went to rejoin her friends who were waiting impatiently for her at the cab. "Omigod, Bailey," Airman First Class Martina Fox squeezed her upper arm when she squeezed in next to her inside the cab. "He is a fuckin' hottie. I swear to God, girl. If YOU don't do him, I will!!" "Marti, you're cutting circulation off to my arm." "Sorry."
May 20, 1996 "Call him." "I don't know..." "CALL HIM." Jerilyn leaned against the dresser, folding her arms. "I don't know..." she took the cocktail napkin out of her pocket again and studied it, biting her lip. "I can't," she said regretfully. "What's stopping you?" Marti asked. "Scott," she said blackly. "Oh, you mean the piece of shit excuse of a boyfriend who hasn't written or called since you left Phoenix to come out to this god forsaken hellhole?" Marti said blandly. "Is that all?" "Yeah..." Jerilyn looked at the napkin. The temptation just increased tenfold. "But... it's still not right..." "Jesus, Jeri, I'm not saying go over and rape the guy. I'm saying give him a call. Get dressed up. Be girly. Have a good time with a good looking man. You don't HAVE to hit the sack with him if you don't want to... although why you wouldn't WANT to..." Marti's voice trailed off. "Yeah but..." Jerilyn faltered. "Yeah but what? Jeri, honey," Marti drawled. "You've been here for almost ninety days now and he hasn't called or written or anything. I think it's safe to say that he broke up with you." "Men DON'T break up with me," she countered arrogantly. "**I** have a track record. I have never been dumped, I've ALWAYS been the dumper." "Okay, sure, yeah, whatever," Marti rolled her eyes. "So, okay, look at it this way, you're on TDY, you know what that means, right?" She spelled it out for her. "Temporarily Divorced Yesterday." In a flash, a wicked twinkle turned her placid hazel eyes into emeralds. "I'm going to hell," she sighed as she picked up the phone. "You'll have lots of company," Marti said smugly, sitting back down on the uncomfortable bed.
Meanwhile... Carlos wanted to die. His head was pounding. He had spent most of the day in bed. He hadn't had an alcoholic bender like that since he turned twenty-one. He forgot about tequila's lethal backlash. He pulled the pillow over his head when the phone began to ring. Then, with a groan and a dry mouth, he rolled over and answered it. "'Lo," he mumbled. "Captain Carlos, sir?" a merry voice greeted him. Carlos wanted to reach through the phone and choke the owner of the happy voice. "Yes, speaking..." he rubbed his head. "My name is Senior Airman Bailey, we met last night at the Hurricane. I'm not... disturbing you, am I?" there was a hint of mockery in her musical voice. Slowly Carlos pieced it together. "No... no..." he assured her as he sat on his bed, clad only in his cotton boxers. He wondered where his clothes were. Then he saw them in a heap at the foot of the bed and grimaced. He was a neat freak, he never let clothes lay around. Especially his good clothes. "You're fine... I was just hanging out. What's going on?" "I was just curious if that offer for dinner tonight was still valid or not," she purred. Carlos heard in the background a woman tell Jerilyn to "Stop being so formal!" and Jerilyn telling her to shut up. "Absolutely," he hoped he sounded coherent. He knew he had to find some extra extra strength ibuprofen to combat his splitting headache. "Where and what time?" "Well, I don't know where as I don't know Kansas City very well. What time... well... seven o'clock good?" "Seven's fine," Carlos said gratefully. He could sneak in another nap to sleep off the rest of his hangover. "Seven's great actually... where should I pick you up?" "I'll meet you at the restaurant," she told him primly. "It will be easier." "Of course," Carlos agreed, feeling stupid. The woman always plans an escape route in the event the first date goes bad. <<First date? First and last date, I'm leaving for my new base on the twenty-second>> he sighed. "What kind of food do you like? Italian, Mexican, Chinese...?" he trailed off. "I'm not really picky," she said. "Hang on a second..." Carlos heard her put the phone down. He could hear her talking to the other girl in the room, "Hand me the phone book, there's got to be something..." He heard movement, than a thank you, then pages turning. "What about... Le Fou Frog? It sounds like fun." "Sure, okay, I'll see you at the Frog at about seven then," Carlos said, smiling a little. "Go sleep off your hang-over," she teased him and hung up.
Later that night... Carlos paced near the entrance of the restaurant, fretting like an old woman. Worrying if she was going to be late, worrying if she was early and was actually sitting down waiting for him inside, worrying about what she was wearing... The preferred attire was business casual. Carlos was dressed up, yet dressed down in a black slacks and a white dress shirt but no jacket or tie. Carlos had wanted to call her back to tell her, but then realized he didn't have her phone number. So his imagination wandered to the various possibilities. Would she be wearing a long formal gown? Or the same torn jeans from last night? Or would she show up clad in her Air Force dress blues? She, of course, did not show up in any of those. At seven o'clock on the dot, a cab pulled up and Jerilyn Bailey got out. She was wearing a simple black blazer with a raspberry-red blouse underneath, a matching black skirt that ended just an inch above the knees, black heels and off-black stockings that looked to be silk. She styled her hair the exact same way as last night, but it was so long and glossy and sleek, it would have been a sin for her to style any other way. She was however, wearing some, but not a lot, make-up. A bit of mascara and kohl eyeliner heightened the tigress-look of her eyes. A dab of rouge to combat the pallor of her face. And a poisonous shade of red lipstick that very few women could pull off, but she was able to very very nicely. Those red lips smiled at him when she turned around and spotted him. "Hi." "Hi," Carlos smiled back, walking towards her, "You look like a fed," he couldn't resist teasing her. "Awww... you must say that to all the girls." "Got you something," he said as he held out the small bouquet of flowers. Her smile widened. Carlos could tell it had been a while since a man got her flowers. "Tiger lilies," she said softly, gently touching the bright orange petals of the exotic blooms. "You didn't have to..." "That's why it was fun," Carlos said, offering his arm. "Shall we?" He escorted her inside. Later... "Would you like to start with an appetizer?" the waitress, clad in inky chic black, asked the couple. Carlos looked over the menu, completely overwhelmed. He just wanted to make sure he didn't order anything with snails in it. Jerilyn must have noticed his discomfiture for she said, "Let's try the fondue." After asking for a few more minutes to decide on their rest of their meals, she whispered to him conspiratorially. "There's usually no slimy critters in fondue." "What the hell is fondue?" "Cheese and butter and eggs all melted together. You dip bread into it and eat it. You can feel your arteries hardening with every bite." Carlos examined the menu again in exasperation. "I knew it," he groaned as a joke. "I should have just taken you to McDonald's." She laughed. "Do you want help?" "You're an expert in French cuisine." "No, but I do speak the language," she scanned the menu. "Do you like fish or are you more of a meat-an'-taters kind of guy?" "I'm a military man. If it's hot and covered with gravy, I'll eat it." "How long have you been in the service?" "Forever. It'll be ten years now. What's Rabbit au Pere Douillet?" "Bunny rabbit." "That's what I was afraid of. You?" "Coming up on my sixth year in October. My initial orders will be up then. I'll have to decide whether or not I want to stay or go." "Why would you want to leave? Am I reading this right? Do they really serve a **dandelion salad**??? With diced bacon??? Yuck..." "Actually, I heard it's supposed to be quite good. The reason why I have to decide is I'm also going to be finishing up my pre-med studies this year in October. And I really didn't like juggling military life and school at the same time. I could do it. But I didn't like doing it. And I want to be a doctor. And I want to go to a really good medical school. I don't want to have to decide which school to go to based on what base I'm stationed at. I want some more freedom. But I do love the Air Force. I think you should try the Parisian salad, followed by the tenderloin steak baked with Chavignol cheese and honey turnips."
Later still... The waitress took their salad plates, refilled their wine glasses, smiled at them and left them again. Carlos had gone with Jerilyn's suggestion for the salad and was very grateful he had done so. Crisp lettuce, mushrooms, spicy sausages and Comte cheese, tossed and seasoned with walnut oil, wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt and pepper, Carlos knew he could have easily consumed the enormous salad as the main course. Jerilyn, meanwhile, had decided to be adventurous and try the dandelion salad, which she pronounced as "okay." "What about you?" she was asking him now, as she sipped at her wine. "I take it you're career?" "All the way," Carlos nodded. "They're going to have to carry me out in a body bag to get me to leave." "Lovely imagery." She groaned. "When did you join?" "When I was eighteen. The minute I graduated from high school, I found the nearest recruiter and signed up." "Where are you from originally?" "Detroit. And you?" "No where, really." When he gave her a puzzled look, she explained. "My father is in the service as well. But he's in the Navy. I was a Naval brat. So I'm really not "from" anywhere." "Was he disappointed that you decided on the Air Force instead of the Navy?" "A little, I think. But I don't think I would have fit in with the Navy at all. Plus, those hats they make the women wear just look stupid. Did you always want to join the Air Force?" "Always. I was in love with the whole Fighter Pilot image. The irony was I didn't have good enough eyesight to be a pilot. So I decided to go into the military police instead." "You liked being a military cop?" "Loved it. Still love it." "I almost went into Security Forces." "What stopped you?" She pushed a long lock of hair out of her face. "I really wanted to focus on getting my undergrad and pre-med studies completed. Becoming a medic just made more sense. I didn't want to slide by with passing grades. I wanted top grades. Which I have," Jerilyn said, pleased with herself. "What's your GPA?" "4.0. Or at least that's what it was before I had to drop out for the spring semester when I got TDYed here. Fortunately, to graduate I only have two more classes to complete which are available at nights during the summer thank God. And they're allowing me to count my work at base as a practical internship." "Where are you going to school??" "The University of Arizona." "You sound like you're extremely intelligent." "I am extremely intelligent," she informed him. "And ambitious." She allowed herself a small, self-depreciating smile. "And self-centered." He raised his glass to her. "Perfect, you and I will get along just fine then," he grinned wickedly at her as the waitress brought their main courses. And later still... "Any room for dessert?" The waitress asked as she removed their dinner plates. Carlos had decided to be brave with the main course and gone for the Lobster a l'Americaine, which turned out to be wonderful. Jerilyn had overcome the disappointment of her salad by thoroughly enjoying her duck with oranges and Cointreau. Carlos felt he was stuffed to the gills with food, but since he wanted to delay the inevitable good-bye, he said "Sure, why not?" He selected the Chocolate Mousse while she ordered the Crème Brûlée. To cap off the gastronomic experience, Carlos also placed two orders of Angevin Coffee, a cup of piping hot coffee spiked with a capful of Cointreau and topped with whipped cream and bitter cocoa sprinkles. "So," she said after the waitress brought them their desserts and coffees. "Is this a stall tactic or are you still really hungry?" her eyes twinkled delightedly as she picked up a spoon so she could eat the rest of the whipped cream before it completely melted away. He grinned sheepishly. "Stall tactic." "When do you leave Whitehead?" "The twenty-second." "Me too," she admitted. "My friends out here all got passes so they could take me out to Kansas City for one last hurrah." "My buddies did the same." "I almost said no to tonight because I didn't want to piss them off." She laughed. "They told me they'd be pissed off if I didn't go." "Where are they transferring you?" "I'm not being transferred. I'm going back to my home base." "Which is...?" "Luke AFB in Phoenix." Carlos' jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his good luck. "Are you serious?" he asked while thinking <<Hello, dumbass, University of Arizona. Where else could she be stationed?>> "Yeah, why?" "I'm being transferred to Luke AFB." She blanched slightly. "Oh," was all she said, looking down at her plate, folding her lips. "Is that not a good thing?" Carlos felt hope deflating. He was really liking this girl. "Um... well..." she dithered, not wanted to hurt his feelings. "The thing is..." "If you start your next sentence with 'You're a nice guy but-' and end with 'I just want to be friends', I'm going to go throw myself into traffic," he tried to be funny but it fell flat. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I wasn't completely honest with you." Then Carlos got the full picture. "There's somebody back home, isn't there?" "It's hard to consider him a 'somebody' since he hasn't written or called me since I transferred out here. I just hadn't formally dumped him yet and there's that slim chance of working things out... maybe..." she hung her head. "I should have said something before..." "Why didn't you?" There was no accusation or hurt in his voice at all. She looked up, smiling sheepishly. "I was having fun. I was having a good time. I don't get out much. I'm kind of a bookworm. A loner." "That's a shame," he said seriously. "Pretty girl like you should get out more. Get asked out more." With great pleasure, he watched her turn beet red at his compliment. "Well..." she said, completely flustered now. "I... thank you... but... there's also that glaring problem that you're an officer and I'm enlisted. The top brass doesn't exactly smile upon that." "True," Carlos said thoughtfully. "But you realize the decree of 'Don't ask, don't tell' can apply to SO much more. Besides Airman Bailey," now he was teasing her. She had given him signals. She was dating an insensitive schmuck. She was having fun with him. "You can't tell me you NEVER break the rules." She giggled. "I am the epitome of military perfection," she tried to say, but was giggling too hard. "I am the Air Force poster child." "Bullshit," he snorted with laughter. <<Damn, I am really falling for this girl>> he realized.
And still later on... Outside of Le Fou Frog... Carlos handed her another cocktail napkin. "This is my friend, David Anderson. He lives in Phoenix. He's storing my things and generally acting as my secretary until I get my living arrangements figured out. I haven't decided if I want to live on base or not. If you and 'somebody' do decide to part ways... I want a phone call." She took the napkin and put it in the pocket of her blazer. "You mean I'm not allowed to call you if I just want to hang out?" she asked oh-so-innocently. "Men and women ARE allowed to be just friends if they want to be." She was wearing her evil little grin again. He took her chin in his hand and shook his head. "Girl, no man can just be friends with you," he informed her. "You eat them alive." "Only in the morning," she quipped. He leaned down and kissed her. He felt her small hand reach for his cheek, began to stroke it tenderly. He ran his fingers through her hair and really had to remind himself he was, in fact, an officer and a gentleman. The temptation to ask her back to his hotel room consumed him. Her lipstick tasted sweet. She tasted sweet, like honey, heavy and airy at the same time. And completely overpowering. Her cab pulled up along the curb. Gracefully, she broke off the embrace. "See you around," she said, walking backwards to the cab. "Later," he said as he watched her get into the cab and leave. He would see her sooner than later, actually. The next time he would see her would be eleven days later. January 3, 2002 Carlos had rousted the agents out of bed at four AM for another "test run." He knew that the sleep deprivation was probably hurting them, but he wanted them to be prepared to perform the rescue mission under any circumstance and condition. Carlos himself hadn't slept at all yet. He rarely got a good night's sleep. If he got four hours of sleep, he was more than a happy camper, he was ecstatic. Right now, he was just too busy to worry about a trifle such as sleep. Plus, his source told him that the Syndicate's transportation of the hostages was now in a holding pattern because they were awaiting the results of Bravo's hunting expedition. And Bravo had gone underground again but the source strongly suspected that she was in Washington DC. And there was finally some good news. Bunny had gotten a hold of Mulder's DNA without Mulder's knowledge. When Mulder had a grand mal seizure in the grocery store while shopping for Thanksgiving dinner with Scully and William, he had been rushed to Bethesda. The doctors, completely baffled, untutored in the ways of the Black Oil, took all kinds of samples from Mulder. Blood, urine, stool, spinal fluid. Bunny had been able to get a hold of a blood sample that was just sitting there in storage. Starkweather had already given a sample of her blood to Carlos, before leaving for the test run. And unbeknownst to either Scully or Mulder, the agent in charge of William would take a small blood sample from him, from in between his toes, where even Dr. Scully would fail to notice if she wasn't looking for it. Starkweather felt guilty as hell, Carlos knew, but she was saying nothing. Plus the test run went a little better than last night. Everyone seemed to know what they were supposed to do now. The only problem was, it seemed like nobody was speaking to anybody. Carlos sighed as he watched the weary agents sleepwalk their way back to their dorms. He trailed them all, watching each one retire to their rooms. Carlos shook his head as he entered into his room. It amazed him how much angst this little group of people was able to generate. Starkweather, currently in the lead of Angst-y Character of the Week, crept into her room and collapsed on her cot, exhausted emotionally and physically. Sleep was a welcome, dreamless relief for her. Reyes, mindful of her roommate's taunt nerves, decided to rest in the break room, where she found Skinner sound asleep in the arm chair. Smiling a little, she took off his eye glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. Propping up his feet on the table, she took a step back to take a look at him. Deciding that he looked comfortable enough, or rather, as comfortable as she was going to get him without waking him up, she stretched out on the couch and indulged in a cat nap herself. Mulder and Scully, however, were still at odds with each other. Mulder, very frosty and formal, offered to take William outside for a while so Scully could get some rest. Dour and dignified, she allowed him that honor of caring for her son. The minute Mulder was out the door, she curled up on her squeaky, uncomfortable cot and cried until her chest hurt and it only until then she could sleep. Mulder sat alone in the rusty dirt outside of the dorms and watched William toddle around, giggling at this thing and that. Mulder smiled in wonder at the small boy. <<Things that adults take for granted>> he thought <<Grass. Bugs. A stone. A stick. Sky. Love. All of that, brand new to him. Such a tiny little thing, and yet getting bigger everyday. I can't believe that he's actually *walking* now... ten months old and he's walking. Soon, he'll be running. And then, school. Growing up. And I want to be there for all of that and dammit Scully, I love him as much as you do. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he is raised as a normal child...>> A sardonic, self-mocking grin crossed his handsome face. <<It is becoming more and more normal to be raised by a single mother, isn't it?>> "Da!" William crowed, finding a new and interesting rock. He bent over to pick it up, fell on his little behind. Giggled, then picked up the stone. "Da!" he babbled again, scooting towards Mulder. Mulder felt his eyes prick with tears. He wasn't the only one tearing up. Unbeknownst to him, Doggett stood in the shadows, watching, feeling an ache that promised never to release him. He knew he would never have children again and didn't understand why Mulder was being such a damn fool when perfect happiness was right there in front of him for the taking. <<I'd take it in a second>> Doggett told himself as he silently turned on his heel and walked back inside. But that nasty little voice in his head, whispered back to him. <<The hell you would. The hell you would... Assistant Director.>> Doggett let himself back into his room, deciding against the walk he had originally planned on to clear his mind. Sleep sounded better. He woke a few hours later, physically refreshed but still spiritually drained. He lifted his head from the pillow, frowning. He heard a guitar strumming. Doggett got off of his cot and in his socked feet, slipped out of his room and padded down towards the sound of the music. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear their voices. "How long have you been playing the guitar Jerilyn?" "Since I was seven." "Really," Reyes sounded wistful. "I wish I could play a musical instrument. I can't even carry a tune in a bucket." "Oh, I don't know. I heard you do a mean whale song." "Dana, you TOLD her that?" "No," Scully said primly, looking up at Reyes, still lounging on the couch. "I told Mulder. He told everyone else." Scully herself was on the floor with William, building a block tower. Starkweather was sprawled out on the uncomfortable armchair, plunking out chords of her own design on her acoustic guitar. None of them noticed Doggett leaning against the door frame. Mulder was sound asleep in his room and Skinner had disappeared with Carlos to discuss some potential tactical problems. "Thanks Fox," Reyes muttered darkly. "So, out of all the guitarists in the world, who's the best?" "Easy," Starkweather said, "Joe Perry, Aerosmith. Hands down." "No way," Scully said. "Keith Richards." "He's half dead," Starkweather protested. "So is Joe Perry!" "What about Dave Matthews?" Reyes asked. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvee," both Scully and Starkweather dreamily as Starkweather started to play the introduction rift to "Crash." "I don't know though," Scully mused for a bit, rebuilding the tower of blocks William knocked over. "I saw BB King and Lucille in concert years and years ago and that was still one of the best concerts ever." "What about Bonnie Raitt?" Reyes said excitedly. "She ranks right up there with Stevie Nicks." Starkweather agreed. "Do you like Jewel?" "Yes," Scully said as Starkweather said "Puke." Reyes smiled. "What about Sheryl Crow?" "I love Sheryl Crow," Scully said. "Me too," Reyes nodded. "Yeah she's cool," Starkweather said, "I like her voice." Out of the corner of her eye, Reyes spotted a tall, brownish blond man standing in the shadows. "Do you take requests?" she asked innocently. "Sure." "Play 'Strong Enough.'" Starkweather started to play but then Reyes interrupted. "Aren't you going to sing? I heard you have a wonderful voice." Squirming at first, Starkweather started over. "God I feel like hell tonight Nothing's true and nothing's right Are you strong enough to be my man? Lie to me I have a face I can not show When I've shown that I just don't care Lie to me Starkweather stopped mid-chord. She shut her mouth and whipped her head around just in time to see Doggett leave. Face contorted with rage, confusion, humiliation and hurt, she hissed at Reyes. "Do me a favor. DON'T help, okay? I can fuck things up by myself, thanks." She slung off the guitar, slammed it on the coffee table and stormed out of the room. Scully shook her head at Reyes. "You shouldn't have done that." Reyes, unperturbed, said blandly, "Like you're in any position to give relationship advice, Agent Scully." Scully scowled at her, but said nothing. What could she say?
Fuming, Starkweather stormed out of the dorms. She almost ploughed into Skinner and Carlos. "Agent, what the hell?" Skinner barked at her. "Where are you going?" "Away," she snapped as she kept walking. When Skinner and Carlos both started to follow her, she turned and said. "I'm FINE, okay? I just need to be by myself for a little bit, okay? Back off." She spun around and walked away again. "I don't care what she says," Skinner said to Carlos once Starkweather was out of earshot. "This whole ordeal has got to be hell on her. I'm going after her." Carlos stopped him. "Let me. I have more experience with following her around than you do." "I don't get it." Carlos sighed. "My main assignment in the CIA," he told Skinner seriously, "is the surveillance and protection of Agent Starkweather. And don't ask me to go into more detail," he said just as Skinner opened his mouth. "I shouldn't even have told you what I did." "Would your mission have anything to do with the Eden Project?" But Carlos wouldn't answer. He just walked away. Carlos wasn't the only one who went on a walk. Doggett had hurried back to his room the second Starkweather started to turn her head towards the door while she had been performing Reyes' request. He waited until he was sure that it was all clear before putting his shoes and slipping out the door. In a sweatshirt, jeans and hiking boots, Doggett wandered around Eagle's Ridge, trying to shake off his lethargy. As he ambled aimlessly around the base, a young Marine stopped him. "You lost?" his hand casually resting on the butt of his Beretta 9 MM. "No sir," Doggett told him, pulling out his FBI identification out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Just bored." The Marine relaxed a little. "If you're looking for some scenery," he pointed down a dusty road. "Keep goin' for about a quarter of a mile. Then you'll see a view of the Grand Canyon the tourists never get to." "Thanks," Doggett mumbled. Since there really was no where else to go, he started down the path the Marine pointed him towards. For a while, all Doggett saw was desert. "Some view," he grumbled but he kept walking. A few boulders began to loom in front of him. As he passed by them, his jaw dropped. The soft blue sky was a complete contrast to the miles and miles of rusty orange and red rocks but still a perfect compliment. The solemn beauty. Nature's skyscrapers reached up to touch the cerulean blue sky but heaven was just out of earth's reach. And out of reach, sitting on a large cloud white boulder that was perched precariously on the edge of the abyss, next to a perfect Christmassy green pine tree, was Starkweather. Her back was to him, her pretty long hair fluttered in the breeze. Doggett was sorely tempted to turn around and go back the way he came. "Hi," he surprised himself by forcing that little syllable out. She looked over her shoulder. "Hi," she replied back, turning back around to stare out at the canyon. She sat like a young girl, elbows on knees, chin on fists. She made him nervous, being on the edge like that, but he walked over to her and sat beside her anyone, only his feet were planted on solid ground. "Look-" "I'm sorry," she said gruffly. "Okay, I didn't mean what I said last night. I was really tired and bitchy and PMS-y and... I didn't mean it." She kept her head turned away from him. He barely heard her last sentence. "You know I didn't mean it." Doggett grinned and reached out for her ponytail. He tugged on it gently until she turned to face him so he would quit pulling on it. "I'm not the bad guy you know," he reminded her, still a little hurt at her ill-timed outburst last night. "I know," she said miserably. "You were just lucky enough to be standing in front of me then." He reached out and cupped her face in his big hand. "How's your chin?" he asked, tilting her head up just enough so he could examine the bruises on her chin, which were now turning a lovely shade of purplish-green. "Still hurts," she complained as she lifted her hand to his chest. Her fingertips grazed over the side of his torso, feeling the bandages underneath his shirt. "How are your ribs?" "Sore," he sighed. "Damn sore. But I'll live," he said as he began to stroke her cheekbone with his thumb. "Doc, you alright? Seriously?" "I'm fine," she said in a quavering voice that implied otherwise. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, to hold back the tears. Doggett leaned over and kissed her forehead. And Carlos couldn't stand it anymore. He knew he should have let them be, let them have their moment. God knows the poor girl deserved it. But Carlos was as mortal as the rest of them and not without his flaws. From his hiding place, he called out, "Jerilyn!" Doggett and Starkweather jumped apart at the sound of his voice. "Dammit," Doggett muttered under his breath as Carlos came into sight, pretending to have been searching for her. "There you are," he said, trying to ignore the looks of death he was receiving from both of them. "Jerilyn, we have to talk." "Fine," she stood up and brushed the dirt off the seat of her jeans. Glaring at him, she stalked over to him. "This better be good." "It is," he said smoothly. "Agent Doggett, excuse us," and with that, Carlos lead Jerilyn away. Doggett sometimes wished his mother hadn't done such a good job instilling manners into him. He would have loved to beat the hell out of Carlos just now. But his upbringing dictated that he return to Eagle's Ridge. But his FBI training told him to follow them. <<Sorry Mama>> he thought while wearing a sardonic grin as he tailed his partner. Meanwhile, Carlos took Starkweather to another secluded part of the Grand Canyon that the tourists were not allowed to see. "Alright Lux," Starkweather said, stopping and facing him. "What is it?" Carlos reached inside of his windbreaker. He pulled out a file. "I got the preliminary results of the blood work." Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "So soon?" "We sent out William's and your samples via military air transport. It didn't take that long to get to Quantico." Doggett came within earshot. Hiding behind an ancient pile of rocks, he listened intently to the former lovers' conversation. "And are you sure Quantico was a secured location? The X-Files has had shit stolen from there before." "Joshi is personally supervising the testing." "And you suspected him being a traitor." "And I suspected Reyes as well, but she's here," Carlos retorted. "You're stalling." A heavy sigh. "Bailey-girl, it's not good news." "Give me the file." "Jerilyn-" "Now." Carlos handed her the file. "Just remember, it's a prelim report. They're still testing." Starkweather sat down on a rock and began to read. She only read the first three paragraphs before sucking in her breath, then covering her mouth as if she was going to throw up. "Jeri?" Carlos asked cautiously. Starkweather stood up, taking out the report and dropping the file on the ground. She started to tear up the papers into little bits. "Tell no one," she muttered as she stormed to the canyon's edge. "Bailey-girl, I-" Carlos protested as Starkweather tossed the pieces of paper into the canyon. The wind picked up her secret and carried it far away. "I mean it Lux!" There was a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "No one." "Not even Mulder?" "NO." "He deserves to know." She turned around, shaking her head. "Not yet," she pleaded with him. "Not yet. Wait until afterwards. After the mission. But not now." Carlos looked at her worn, sad face, seeing how her aging angry soul wreaked havoc on her normally youthful features. He wondered what happened to sweet, spirited girl he fell in love with. <<Alright, she was never sweet,>> Carlos reminded himself <<but I hope to God her spirit isn't being crushed by this shit.>> Kill her spirit, you might as well kill her.
June 1, 1996 Carlos had just purchased his very first cell phone, which was very exciting to him. Problem was, he had no one to really call except his mother in Detroit and David Anderson, a friend he had made during Basic Training. David had been discharged early due to a bout of cancer, but he had been in remission ever since. He used his military grant to go back to school and was now a junior high science teacher in a nice little middle school in one of Phoenix's affluent suburbs. He also coached the boys' basketball team in the winter. He was also storing Carlos's personal belongings until Carlos found suitable living arrangements. Which Carlos did. After checking out the on-base housing, Carlos elected to find a house off-base. And he found a nice little house with a lemon tree in the front yard and a small swimming pool in the back available to rent in Scottsdale. His furniture had been delivered. Now he just had to get the rest of his things. He dialed David's number as he drove his new Taurus, courtesy of the military towards his apartments. "Hello?" "Dave?" "Hey, Lux, what's up?" "On my way." "Cool. Got the beer ready." "Beauty." "Be sure to check out the spit-and-shit storm going on before you come on up." "Don't get you..." "A small domestic spat." "Aw, hell. Are you going to call the cops?" "Nah. Nobody's in danger of getting hurt. Plus it's entertaining as hell. Truly Jerry Springer worthy." Dave chuckled. "Later." Twenty minutes later, Carlos pulled up in front of Dave's apartment complex. Out of the second story window, clothes and shoes were flying out, raining on a good looking man below. "Bitch!" he was screaming. "Quit throwing my shit out!" Grinning, Carlos got out of his car and leaned against it, watching socks, boxers and wife-beater shirts raining on the man's blond head. He was extremely handsome, almost too handsome in a pretty-boy sort of way, which contrasted grossly with his clothing. He obviously wanted to emulate Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder. Despite the sweltering Arizona heat, he wore a long sleeved red, white and orange, a dirty black t-shirt, even dirtier jeans and scuffed combat boots held together with duct tape. His hair was long and blond and tied back with a piece of shoelace. He was screaming rabidly, especially when pages of loose sheet music started to be tossed out the window. "ARRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!! You FUCKING CUNT!!! That's MY music! My art!! You can't treat me like this! I am an ARTIST, dammit!" She stuck her head out the window. Carlos' jaw dropped wide open. "Just because nobody understands you, doesn't make you an artist," Senior Airman Jerilyn Michelle Bailey retorted hotly. She wadded up the pages of sheet music she held in her hands, then pelted her ex-boyfriend with them. "Goddamn you!" the ex, Scott MacLaughlin, screamed. "Let me in so I can get my shit!" "Like hell," Jerilyn yelled back at him. "You are never allowed in here again. You fucking live here, rent free for three damn months plus having the NERVE to SCREW AROUND ON ME while I was in that shithole in Missouri and you don't even have the courtesy to write or call to tell me it's over??? Fuck you, fuck your mother, fuck your dad, fuck your cat, fuck your dog. You'll kiss my ass before you EVER step foot into MY apartment EVER again!!!" Carlos made a mental note to stay on Jerilyn's good side. Scott tried another tact. "Baby, you are blowing this WAY out of proportion. Lemme in so we can talk about it." "What's there to talk about Scott? YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH A STRIPPER!!!!" she screeched at him. Carlos thought his ears were going to start bleeding. "A GOD DAMNED STRIPPER!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!!! YOU DISGUSTING SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!" She pulled her head back inside and resumed throwing his things out the window again. CDs and stuffed animals this time. Carlos had to duck to avoid getting beamed in the head with a stuffed gorilla. It bounced into the street where it was promptly run over by a 1982 Buick Century. "At least let me up there to get my big stuff!" Scott yelled at her. Jerilyn threw an old Air Force issued duffel bag out for him, then stuck her head out the window again. "You can keep that," she told him coldly. "Pick your shit up off the lawn and get out of here. I'll send your bigger stuff to your mother's house. If you aren't out of here in fifteen minutes, I am calling the police for harassment. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go inside and douche with Clorox now. God knows what else you've been with." She disappeared inside again. Almost frothing at the mouth now, Scott shrieked at her, "YOU FUCKING BITCH! IF YOU WOULD HAVE EVER PULLED YOUR NOSE OUTTA THOSE DAMN BOOKS I WOULDN'T HAVE TO HAD TO GO TO SOMEBODY ELSE! YOU FREAKING FRIGID BITCH! HEAR ME??? FRIGID!!!!!!!!!!!! I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO FUCK YOU INSTEAD BUT I DIDN'T WANT MY DICK FROZEN OFF!!!!" A compact stereo system came flying out the window. It smashed into a hundred different pieces. Scott stared at the ruined stereo in disbelief. Then he screamed. "THAT CD PLAYER COST ME TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!" A piece of paper now fluttered out the window. Scott bent down and picked it up. It was a personal check for two hundred dollars. "Scott, there are two ways you're going to get your stuff," Jerilyn stuck her head out the window again. "Either it's ALL going to come out of this window or I will send it to your mother's house. It's your decision. I was paid very well for my TDY. I can afford to replace all your crap that gets broken in the fall." She went back in. "LIKE HELL!" Scott screamed at her. "I don't care if I have break down the door, I am going up there and getting my sh- NOOOOOOOOO!!!" Jerilyn was holding a very nice, very expensive looking electric guitar out the window. "I'm sorry, what where you saying?" "Jerilyn," he said in a shaking voice. "You can't afford to replace that." "Oh, I can replace the guitar," she said sweetly. "Of course, it won't have all the autographs from everyone in Soul Asylum... but I can replace the guitar itself." She waved it slightly. "Ooh, it's soooooo heavy," she said in a poor Marilyn Monroe imitation. Gritting his teeth, Scott hurriedly packed his things. Jerilyn pulled the guitar back inside. He stormed over to the beat up Volkswagen Bug and threw the duffel bag into the backseat. "This isn't over!!" he yelled at her pathetically. "Yes it is," she said frostily. "Goodbye Scott." She shut the window and pulled the blinds. As Scott drove away, Carlos smiled to himself. He strolled inside and instead of going to his friend Dave's apartment, he went to look for hers. It wasn't very difficult. He knocked on the door. There was a pause. Carlos pictured her peeping through the spy-hole. The door opened wide. Her pale cheeks were now crimson with embarrassment. "Hi," she said, totally surprised and humiliated. "Hi," he smiled at her, appreciating the sight of her. Her lovely dark brown hair was tied back in a loose French braid. She was wearing a simple red tank top, cut-off denim shorts and huge golden wire rimmed glasses. Her bare toenails were painted black. "Hi," she replied, still gaping at him. "So," Carlos leaned again the door, wishing he wasn't wearing grubby clothes, an old BDU t-shirt and a pair of old jeans. But he had been anticipating moving today, not meeting up with his dream girl again. "That was.... Someone?" She laughed. "Umm... now he's a No One." She took off her glasses and smiled coyly at him. "So I guess I owe you a phone call now, huh?" "Guess so," he felt his smile widen. "Well," she bit her lip. "I have to go to the post office today to mail No One's things to his mother's, then I have to study a few hours... but would you be opposed to a phone call later tonight?" "How about instead of a phone call, I pick you up later tonight after you get done studying and I get done moving into my new house?" "What time?" "Seven?" "I'll be here," she told him, with her little wicked smile on her face. "With bells on." "See you then." "Later," and she shut the door. Jerilyn leaned again her door, hugging herself. "Oh my God..." she whispered to herself, feeling absolutely exhilarated. Ever since she left the confines of high school, she had been very good at attracting the attention of men, despite her plain face. But today was definitely a first, she had never dumped one man and picked up a new one within the hour. A decrepit old cat wound around her ankles. "Hi Guinevere," she said to the Siamese kitty she rescued from the pound three years ago. The cat was obviously on her ninth life. She frowned and made a mental note to call the vet again to tell her that Guinevere wasn't getting any better. "If you're sick because Scott that syphilis ridden lying sack of shit hadn't been taking care of you, I'll make today seem like the kiss of a butterfly," she vowed, picking up her beloved cat.
July 14, 1996 Guinevere the cat died. Turned out, it wasn't due to Scott's attention or lack thereof which was causing her illness. As the vet explained to Jerilyn, "The poor girl's just getting old" and her kidneys were beginning to shut down. Of all the things she had missed when she was in Missouri was her cat, so it was a heavy heart that Jerilyn decided to put Guinevere out of her misery. She cried the entire car ride to the vet's clinic where her poor baby was put to sleep and then cried some more on the car ride home. Still dressed in her military fatigues and still wiping tear streaks off of her face, she plodded up the stairs. All day at work, she had dreaded coming home to an empty apartment. And with her orders being up in October and her possibly moving away, she didn't dare get another cat. She didn't want another cat anyway, she wanted her little Genny. "Maybe I'll get a fish," she mumbled to herself as she thumbed through her mail. She looked up at her door and smiled, just a little. A red envelope was taped to her door. One of the nice things about dating Lux was his unpredictability. Granted, it was all business when they were on base, even though he was not in her flight, he was still an officer and therefore her superior. Off-hours though, she would find a bouquet of daisies on her doormat, a goofy Shoebox greeting card mailed to her, letters taped to her door. She gently took the envelope off the door and went inside. Once inside, she tossed the mail on the small breakfast bar, as there was no room for a kitchen table in her apartment. She went into her bedroom and peeled off her uniform, then hopped in the shower. She came out wearing only a towel wrapped around herself and turned the air conditioning on. The heat had been especially unpleasant today. She put aside Carlos' letter last, as a treat or dessert as she sorted out the bills and junk mail. Finally, she opened his letter. In his block printing, he had copied a poem: "Nature's first green is gold, She smiled again. He knew she liked literature. She wasn't particularly found of Robert Frost, but that poem struck a chord within her today. Her phone rang. "Hello?" "Hey Bailey-girl." "Hi." "How did it go?" "Depressing," she admitted to him. "I'm sorry." "Got your note." Carlos played dumb. "What note?" "Ha, ha." "I'm sorry about your cat." "Thanks." "What are you doing tonight?" "Oh," Jerilyn looked up at the clock. "My father's in town so I'm meeting him for dinner in about an hour." They had an understanding that Carlos would not be introduced to the Admiral just yet. They had an understanding not to broadcast their little developing romance to the world just yet. "Oh good, that buys me some time," he sounded relieved. "Why?" "Because, Bailey-girl, I was panicking that I would have to whip together a home-cooked meal for you at the absolute last minute and I just can't handle that pressure. Now I have at least twenty-four hours to come up with something to dazzle and awe you with." "Is that your convoluted way of inviting me over to your house for dinner?" "Yes." "What time?" "Seven?" A wry smile crossed her face. She started to sing, "Oh seven and we'll watch them fall, it'll stand in the way of love and we'll smoke them all. With your intellect and your savoir-faire..." Carlos laughed. "Is that your weird way of telling me yes?" "Yep." "You are insane," he said affectionately. "Oh, before I forget, bring a swimming suit and a change of clothes. I finally got the pool fixed and filled. You like turkey right?" "Turkey?? In July????" "Trust me baby." "Um... okay..." Jerilyn liked turkey but the idea of eating heavy Thanksgiving type food in the boiling desert heat made her ill. "Listen, I gotta go. I want to study a bit before Dad gets here and I still need to get ready for him on top of that, I'm sitting her half-naked on my couch-" "I'll come over right now." "Typical male." "Hey, you're the one putting images of a half-naked you on a couch." "I'll see you tomorrow." "Okay." "Bye." "Bye, Bailey-girl." Shaking her head, she hung up the phone. "Fiat Lux," she smiled to herself, reaching for the heavy medical book on her coffee table. She had an hour to kill before she had to get ready for her father's visit. And soon she lost herself in the mystique of physiology. It had been a crappy day, but not as crappy as it could have been.
July 15, 1996 Carlos peered out his window just in time to see Jerilyn's junker of a car, a 1973 rusting Mustang pull up. He grinned and went out to greet her. "Hey, Bailey-girl," he said as she was opening the trunk. "Hi," she beamed at him as he leaned over to kiss her. She took out a small overnight bag and a grocery sack. "What's all this?" He peeked inside the sack. "I stopped at the deli and picked up some wine and bread," she shifted both bags into one arm so she could use the free hand to shut the truck. "But it's so hot out, I'd rather have a glass of ice water. Or a beer." "I have Bud Lights in the fridge." "You are a wonderful man." "I know," Carlos said smugly as he took her overnight bag and escorted her into the house. Both were oblivious to the cable repair van parked kitty-corner from Carlos' house. "Are you sure about this?" Knowle Rohrer muttered, peered through the window, watching Jerilyn and Carlos disappear into the house. "Perfectly," the Cancer Man said as he took out a cigarette. "He's the obvious choice. Do any of you have a light? I seem to have misplaced my lighter," he asked, peeved at himself. He loved that butane lighter. Shannon McMahon took out her little red Bic lighter and passed it to him. "I agree with Knowle," she said. "I don't feel right about this. About him. About *her.*" From the driver's seat, Bravo snapped at her. "Nobody asked for your opinion, McMahon. You're just along for the ride." Shannon glared at her but said nothing. She wanted to avoid tangling with Bravo if at all possible. As most did, Super Soldier or not.
Later that night... Carlos leaned over and replenished Jerilyn's wine glass. "I'm going to clear the table," he said, getting up. "Want help?" "Nah," he took her plate. "It's not that much." So as Carlos disappeared back inside the house, Jerilyn stretched in her chair like a sated cat. Carlos had once again surprised her by slow roasting the entire turkey on the grill. The flesh was pink and tender and literally fell off the bone. And instead of making the traditional mashed potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce, he made salads. A potato salad that Jerilyn had to admit could rival her late mother's, who was a phenomenal cook. And a fruit salad made with orange slices, kiwi, green grapes, Granny Smith apple slices mixed with whipped cream he made himself and drizzled with lemon juice. Instead of cracking open the beers like they originally suggested, they started drinking iced tea with slices of lemon, freshly picked from the tree in front of Carlos' yard. Halfway through the gargantuan meal, Carlos cracked open the excellent bottle of white wine that Jerilyn brought over. Jerilyn felt very comfortable. But hot. She set her wine glass down and took off the scrunchie pony tail tie that was on her wrist. She pulled her hair up and put it in a very sloppy bun to get her heavy hair off her neck. Her feline eyes surveyed his backyard at leisure. Not much in the way of a lawn or a garden in back, although she suspected the patch of lawn and the lemon tree that was somehow surviving the Arizona heat took up so much time in maintaining that Carlos chose to keep the backyard simple. There was a cactus garden in the corner, which looked kind of cute. In the other corner, a big shady grapefruit tree. And of course, the swimming pool, the staple of any Arizonan homeowner if they could afford to. And the privacy fence. A very high privacy fence. A slow, indulgent smile crossed her face. Carlos came back out and sat down. He frowned at her sloppy hair-do. "Bailey-girl, it's bad enough you HAVE to wear your hair up at work. It's too pretty to wear up when you're not at work." Flushing at his compliment, she protested with a whine. "But it's hot." "Well, let's go swimming then. Cool off." "Aren't we supposed to wait an hour after eating?" "You're the future doctor, you tell me." "We'll melt if we wait out here any longer. That's far more hazardous to your health." "Well, get off your backside and go in and get your suit on." "I didn't bring a swimsuit." "You forgot???" Carlos sighed. "Jerilyn, I told you to bring one." She smirked at him, starting to undo the buttons of the sleeveless blouse she was wearing. "I didn't say," she rose out of her seat and shrugged off her blouse, "I forgot my suit. I said I didn't bring one." She casually tossed her shirt at him and sauntered over to the pool, unsnapping and unzipping her khakis shorts as she walked. Carlos sat there, thunderstruck for a bit, watching her wiggle out of her shorts and slip into his swimming pool in just a white satin bra and matching panties. "Well?" she asked in an oh-so-innocent tone. "What are you waiting for? I don't have cooties." She took the scrunchie out of her hair so it would fan out behind her in the water. A big big grin crossed his face. Shedding his shorts and shirt and shoes, he crossed over and jumped in, splashing her. Laughing as the wave cascaded over her, she dove underwater to find him. Like little children, they played tag for a while, she moved like a mermaid, he like a shark. As the desert moon rose, promising to suck the heat out of the desert during the hours of darkness, Jerilyn and Carlos lazily floated in the pool, watching the stars come out. Carlos reached for her and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. She took a small leap and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "You know," he said in a murmur, nuzzling her. "I think I love you." He felt her melting into him even though she said sarcastically, "Nice that you're so sure about it," as her hands traveled up and down his well muscled shoulders and back. "Have to have my escape route," he teased her. "Well," she drawled lazily, "I think I love you too, then. So there. Nyah." She stuck her tongue out at him. "What else can you do with that tongue?" She showed him.
The next morning Jerilyn's body, conditioned to early rising due to military life, snapped awake at five-thirty even though she and Carlos had only succumbed to sleep a few hours ago. But she did not feel tired. On the contrary, she felt well-rested and vitalized. She sat up in bed quietly and looked down at the man sleeping beside her. She reached out and gently slid her fingertips across his clean-shaven face, just for the pure pleasurable tactile sensation. But she was careful not to wake him. She wondered what he would look like with hair, both on his head and face. He had told her he shaved his head just so he wouldn't have to bother with making sure it stayed within military guidelines. She dismissed that thought. She would never know. He was career military. She slid out of bed quietly and crossed over to his closet and picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over her tousled head. She pulled at a lock of her hair and sniffed it, frowning. It smelled of sweat, sex and chlorine. <<Must shower eventually>> she wrinkled her nose as she padded towards his kitchen. She, like she always did in the morning, started to make a mental list of things she needed to accomplish today on her day off. <<Shower, have mind-blowing sex with Lux, go to the library and get more research material for my thesis paper, come back, have mind-blowing sex with Lux, study for my exam on Thursday, have mind-blowing sex with Lux...>> Jerilyn didn't cook not because she didn't know how, but because she didn't like to. This morning, she toyed with actually making something for breakfast instead of the toast and coffee that made up her morning meal. But she decided she definitely wanted coffee. Despite her efforts to be quiet, Carlos woke up. He called for her, "Bailey-girl, where are you?" "I'm in the kitchen," she called back as she fussed with the coffee container. "I'm brewing coffee..." she just happened to look out the window just then. She gasped. "Lux..." Lux heard the fear in her voice and bolted out of bed. "What is it?" "There's someone outside... they're armed." Lux grabbed his shorted, threw them on and took out the Glock handgun he kept in his nightstand. Lux joined Jerilyn in the kitchen. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun. Although she was in the military, she was rarely around firearms. She didn't know if she would even be comfortable around them. Lux pulled the shades back just a touch and peered out. "What the fuck?" he whispered, seeing a man and a woman, standing on the lawn, their guns out for all the world to see. The man has his back to the house. The woman had long black hair and blue eyes. "Call 911," Carlos said, taking the safety off the gun. Jerilyn reached for the phone. "The line's dead." Carlos looked out the window again. The woman was gone; the man was crossing the street. Carlos rushed Jerilyn to the living room. He handed her the gun. She was shaking. "Bailey-girl, I'm going to go after him," She whimpered. "All you have to do is pull the trigger. It'll be okay," he told her as he went to a cabinet next to his entertainment center and unlocked it. He pulled out another 9 MM. "My cell phone is in my bedroom. Call the cops." He sprinted out the front door. Trembling, Jerilyn went into his bedroom to retrieve the cell phone. "Shit," she muttered when she saw that the battery was dead. "Shit, shit, shit." <<Don'tlikethisdon'tlikethis...>> She went back into the living room, still shaking. She heard tires squealing, Carlos yelling, a gun firing. Her trembling increased. Then she heard the screen door opening. In the television screen, she saw the reflection of a woman behind her, slowly raising her gun up. And Jerilyn felt like she was moving completely on instinct. She whirled around, her hair spinning around her. The gun no longer felt like a foreign object but an extension of her body. She squeezed the trigger and fired off two rounds, hitting the woman in the right shoulder. She grunted, stumbled, but still lifted her gun again. "Aren't you supposed to stop when I shoot you?" Jerilyn asked as she fired off another round, this one in her kneecap. Shannon McMahon stumbled again, but still she lifted her gun up to fire. Carlos just then, burst through the door and sent a bullet through Shannon's head. Jerilyn collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. Carlos came and put her arms around her. "It's okay, it's okay, baby," he said. "The other dude got away, but it's okay, it's over now." "It's not over," a voice said. "It's never over." Both Carlos and Jerilyn gasped. A distinguished black man, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses stood in the doorframe. He crossed over and picked Shannon up. "Congratulations," he said. "You passed the test. Don't bother calling the police. They won't believe you. They've been instructed not to believe you." X carried Shannon out the door. Blood dripped on the carpet.
January 3, 2002 The blood had completely drained from Starkweather's face as she stared across the yawning schism in the earth. She looked as shell-shocked as she did when Carlos put a bullet through Shannon's brain, as when the World Trade Center collapsed, as when Ben died. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to make it better for her and he hated himself for that. He sighed, turned and looked across the canyon as well, knowing that the answers, the truth was out there, but he just didn't have a clue where to look. Meanwhile Doggett finally peeped around the boulder he was hiding behind. He saw Starkweather standing at the edge of the cliff. She looked like she was ready hurl herself off of it. And he saw Carlos. The man just looked miserable. Doggett felt the thrill of fear for a moment. Something had to be horribly wrong. They had been talking about preliminary results and testing. Carlos looked like he just gave her the worst news in the world. It clicked with Doggett. The file. Last night, Starkweather had bitten his head off when he asked her about it. Something was horribly wrong and it had to do with William... **"Tell no one."** **"Bailey-girl, I-"** **"I mean it Lux! No one."** **"Not even Mulder?"** **"NO."** **"He deserves to know."** **"Not yet."** The sick feeling of terror increased. What if that file had something to do with Mulder? Or Starkweather? **Tell no one.** <<That means you too, John.>> he thought, turning around and starting to walk back to base. <<Got-dammit, Jerilyn, talk to me.>>
Later... "Even though," Dr. Rachelle Nyman said sincerely, "we have had our differences, it is good to see you again, Agent Starkweather. When I heard about your abduction on the news, I feared the worst." Bravo smiled. "Yes, well, the rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated, weren't they?" It was pathetically easy to impersonate Starkweather. You just had to throw on a blond wig, a black blazer and be a bitch. "How is Charlie doing?" "Worsening. We changed her anti-depressants from Paxil to Prozac. No improvement. We may have to try something stronger." "Keep me updated on her progress," Bravo told her. "I want to know everything. May we go see her now?" "Of course," Dr. Nyman rose out of her desk to escort her down to the dungeon. "Joe," she turned to the teenaged boy in the baseball cap, sitting in the chair next to Bravo. "You are more than welcome to stay here if you like." Gibson Praise flicked his eyes over at Bravo. Her sweet, concerned face masked her lethal thoughts. <<If you run, we'll kill your father. You know who he is now and you know he's a good man. I'll kill him myself and I'll kill him slow.>> "No'm," Gibson mumbled. "I'll go with my Aunt Jeri. It'll be fine." Gibson tried to block out the screams, internal and external of the mad as they walked through the cellblock. "We have chairs set up for both of you," Dr. Nyman informed them. Gibson felt the woman's concern for him but didn't feel any reassurance. The doctor believed that this woman was Agent Starkweather so there was no hope for her to call the police or the FBI. Miserably, Gibson followed Bravo towards the chairs set up for them. He sat down and stared at the woman in the cell. They had put a table and chair in the cell for Charlie, both bolted down, of course. They also now allowed her finger paints and pastels and soft crayons. Her cell was decorated with brightly colored drawings. Mostly Disney characters. A few Looney Tune characters here and there. All very well done. It would have been interesting to see what she could accomplish with all the artist's tools available to her, but there was no way in hell the asylum was going to let her have sharp or blunt objects. Including a paintbrush. Charlie was sitting at the table now, shading something with a gray crayon. She didn't even look up. "Hello Bravo," she said tonelessly. "I knew you were coming. And Gibson. Nice to meet you." "You seem to be doing well, baby-sister," Bravo said icily. "How is it that you are doing so well? Last time I saw you, you were being drug away by the FBI after you killed seven people and attacked Agent Reyes. I think you bit her, in fact?" "The doctors here have been helping me." "That's nice. How?" Charlie remained silent for a bit. Then she said flatly. "Bravo, what do you want? What more do you want from me?" "I want to know where Agent Starkweather is." "I don't know where Agent Starkweather is." "You lie." "She was kidnapped, it was on the news." "Again, you lie. You are a terrible liar, Charlie. Of course, you haven't had much practice at it, have you?" "Why would I lie?" "Because you want to protect the runt of our litter. Because you have always had a fascination for Echo. In fact, when you ran away, you went in search of Echo. That's why you wound up at her apartment. You want to protect her because you believe she can save you." "I am beyond saving." "That's true," Bravo mused. "Maybe it's someone else. Perhaps... Agent Scully's little boy? Do you know where William Mulder is?" "He's with his mother." "And where is his mother?" "How would I know?" "Ah, because you know things Charlie. You see things. Part of the reason why you were psychotic most of the time. Because you are the psychic one in our little family. Alpha the shapeshifter, Bravo the assassin, Charlie the clairvoyant, Delta the domestic goddess and Echo the cop. You still have the visions.... I wonder how it is that you are now stable enough to see them. To handle the pressure of being Cassandra? Ah well, no matter," she said dismissively. "You're worm's food soon. Only a matter of time. They've started jury selection for your case. We've made sure to tweak it a little, just to ensure you get a quick guilty sentence. I’ve heard lethal gas is a horrible way to go." "I'm not afraid of dying," Charlie whispered. "It's hard to be afraid of death when you have nothing to live for." "Very true," Bravo agreed. "However," she reached out and placed her hand on Gibson's shoulder. "This young man has very much to live for. You do know who Gibson Praise is, don't you? Little chess prodigy, cute little telepathic kid, all grown up into this gangly teenage boy. He has his entire future to look forward to." She turned to Gibson. "And if you value your future, you will look into her mind and tell me where the X-Files Division disappeared to. It's too much of a coincidence that not only Mulder and Scully, Doggett and Starkweather are gone, but Skinner and Reyes are too. I know she's seen where they are. You tell me what she sees," she hissed at him as she squeezed his shoulder harder and harder. Gibson turned gray in pain. "Bravo! Please!!! Stop hurting him!" Charlie cried out. "I'll tell you, just... just leave him alone!" Bravo turned her attention back to Charlie. "Good girl," she purred. "Good good girl... where are they?" "I see them in a desert, next to a canyon," she said miserably. "On a military base..." "Luke AFB?" Bravo prodded her. "Starkweather was stationed there." "No... a secret military base..." Charlie closed her eyes and saw Starkweather standing on the edge of a giant ravine, where the Colorado River flowed lazily hundreds of miles below. Bravo sucked in her breath. "Eagle's Ridge." She stood up. "Thank you, Charlie. Once again, you served your purpose." She snarled at Gibson. "Let's go." Once Bravo and her hostage left, Charlie looked up at the ceiling of her cell. In a quavering voice, she called out. "Agent Merchant??" Out of a tiny speaker, in the corner of the ceiling, Bunny's voice came out, "Don't worry Charlie, we'll get her. She's not leaving here." Bunny turned the microphone off. "Alive." She had her bullet-resistant helmet and bullet-proof vest already on. She took the safety off of her Sig Sauer and nodded at the men behind her. "Let's go." She turned to the man that looked like Alex Krycek behind her. "Shoot to kill." Alpha nodded. That was not a problem for her. She wished she would have finished the job back in South Dakota. As they walked down the hall, Bravo pulled out her cell phone. The Cancer Man answered immediately. "Yes?" "Eagle's Ridge." "I thought it was de-commissioned?" "CIA took it over. It's a training base." "And they're there?" "All of them. Including the child." "Thank you," the Cancer Man hung up on her. He then picked up the phone and dialed again. "Rohrer." "Eagle's Ridge." "We'll go tonight." "Burn it to the ground." "Done," Rohrer hung up his cell. He turned to his small army of unstoppable soldiers. "We know our objective!" he yelled at them. "We now have a location. Let's move out!" The Super Soldiers dispersed to get ready for battle. A battle between heaven and earth because of the bonds between a father and a son. A son destined to destroy them all.
Meanwhile, back at Waldenbrooks, Bravo and Gibson were almost to the exit when a voice called out, "Miss?? Miss??" Bravo turned around to see a huge man in an orderly's uniform running towards her, carrying an ugly black handbag. Huffing and puffing, he gasped out. "Miss, you forgot your purse." "Purse?" Bravo frowned. "I don't carry a purse." The orderly, actually a SWAT-officer-turned-CIA swung his arm back and hit Bravo in the face with the weighted down purse. Bravo fell to the floor. Her wig fell over. Her crimson hair spilled out onto the floor. Three more CIA agents, including Agent Bonaventure Merchant surrounded her, guns drawn. "Take her," Bunny ordered them. "Gibson, come here," she beckoned the boy. Just then, Bravo pulled a knife out of her boot and threw it so fast, nobody realized what she had done until the owner of the throat that the knife was now lodged in collapsed. With a powerful tornado kick, she booted the gun out of one CIA agent's hand, caught it and shot the agent while at the same time, reaching into her holster, pulling out her own gun and pointing it at Gibson's head. "Anyone moves, this kid is dead," Bravo hissed. "Gibson, come here." "Gibson, stay there!" Bunny said, her gun still drawn on Bravo. "You fucking bitch, I'm sending you to hell myself." "I'll save you a seat." "You watch too much 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'." "I'm more of an 'Angel' fan, myself," she said pleasantly as she fired at Bunny, shooting her in the kneecap. Bunny collapsed, gripping her knee in one hand while still aiming her gun with the other. "Don't let her get away!" Bunny cried out. Bravo calmly killed the other CIA agent. "It's just you and me, chica," she said, pointing the gun at Bunny's head. "And me." Bravo whirled around only to have Alpha hit her in the face while burying a knife into her gut to the hilt. Bravo dropped the guns as she screamed in pain but she regained presence of mind enough to reach for Lily's hair and start pulling. Hard. "Gibson! Run!" Lily screamed. Gibson ran out the door. Bravo then slung Lily across the floor by her hair. Lily slammed into the couch. Her breath knocked out of her, she reached for her gun and staggered to her feet. "Why help them?" Lily challenged her as Bravo picked up her gun and pointed it at her. "You know they're just going to send you back to Them, just like they did with Charlie, like they're going to do with Delta and Echo. You aren't special. You're just a piece of merchandise to them. You think the Cancer Man will save you? You think he thinks of you as if you're his daughter?" Lily laughed bitterly. "Got news for you sweetheart. You aren't his daughter. All this time, you worshipped him because you though he was your father and he's not. Isn't that just a kick in the head?" Bravo gaped at her. "That's not true!" "Wanna bet?" Lily wiped the blood off of her face. Her nose was pumping out blood. She spit out a tooth. She held out a bloody hand. "You, me, Starkweather. We can stop Them. We are the future. Join me. Join US. For Christ's sake, WE are your family. Not them." Whatever Bravo might have said was lost for Dr. Nyman along with a security guard came barreling through the waiting room. "What in the hell is going on her-" Bravo whipped around and shot Dr. Nyman in the head. She quickly killed the security guard as well and ran out the room, gripping her stomach wound. Lily limped over to Bunny. "I should have shot her when I had the chance," Bunny moaned. "Lie still," Lily placed her hand over Bunny's bloody knee. Soon, Bunny felt a fierce heat throughout her body. She felt her knee swell up and push the bullet out, then swell back down. "Thank you," she said to Lily, getting up. "What about that stab wound?" "It'll slow her down, but it won't stop her," Lily said grimly. "You better call Carlos and tell him to get everyone out of Eagle's Ridge. I'm going to try and find Gibson," she morphed back into Alex Krycek. "Before Bravo does." "Why would Bravo want with Gibson now?" Bunny frowned. "He served his purpose." Bitterly, in Krycek's voice, Lily said "With the onset of puberty, Gibson has acquired a few more... gifts..." *********************** Gibson, unfortunately, did not get very far. He tried to flag down cars, but they just kept passing him by. He then gave up on trying to hitch a ride and started to run. "GIBSON!" an angry female voice screamed behind him. A gun shot went off. Gibson felt the bullet whiz by his head, missing him by inches. He stopped running. He knew if Bravo wanted him dead, she would not have missed. She staggered up to him, bleeding profusely. She shoved her gun into his forehead and grabbed him by the throat with her bloody hand. "Heal me," she hissed at him, pulling on the trigger just slightly. "Or we die together." Gibson swallowed and tried to fight back the tears as with a shaking hand, he reached out and touched the oozing wound. He felt the weird energy rush from his mind, down his arm and out the pores of his skin as his touch healed the assassin. Once her wound disappeared, she forced him to turn around and at gunpoint, he walked ahead of her until she found a car to hot wire and she drove them out of DC. <<Mulder, help me>> he thought desperately.
Meanwhile... Mulder bolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. Scully looked up from her cot, concerning creasing her forehead. She was surrounded by files, she had been reading up on Purity while Mulder slept. She had felt extremely uncomfortable being in the same room with him, but there was no where else to go. Seeing how his face was changing from gray to green, she started to ask him what was the matter, but then he suddenly rolled out of bed, lunged for the garbage can and threw up. Scully clambered over her papers and got down on the floor beside him. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Mulder didn't answer right away, after being sick, he had to contend with the dry heaves first before he had breath enough to speak. "I had a..." he wiped the sweat off of his face. "It was one of those dreams that was so damn real..." he shook his head. "It's nothing Scully, I'm fine. I think, I'm just stressed." "We're all stressed," Scully said, rubbing his back. Troubled, Mulder said, "Can I ask you something?" "Okay." "This is going to sound kind of out there..." "After nine years you don't think I'm used to that by now?" Encouraged by this, he went on. "Scully, it's pretty much set in stone that you're the rational, skeptical, grown-up half of our partnership. And I'm the irrational, gullible fly-by-night half. Yet, you're the one who sees things that I can't." "Such as?" "Your father. That angel-figure you saw when we were investigating the deaths of those handicapped girls. Emily. Your epiphany at that Buddhist temple. My..." he paused, then started again. "My abduction experiences. You saw all of those so clearly. How... did you know they were real and not a figment of your imagination?" "I don't know if they were real," Scully said quietly. "Sometimes we wish so hard for something to be real that it feels like it's real. Like... when you were missing, I used to want to see you so badly, I could see you standing there and I'd blink my eyes and you'd be gone." She stood up and grabbed the bottle of water she had been drinking and then sat down again, leaning against the bed. Mulder tied up the garbage bag he threw up in and pushed the can away from them. Then he sat on the floor against the cot next to Scully. "But you can see things too Mulder. You see things everyday that I can not. Or will not." She handed him her water. He took two big swallows, careful not to backwash. The vile taste of stomach acid was rinsed cleanly away. "Such as?" Her eyes welled up. "William," she whispered. "The truth we both know." She smiled and whispered "**Our** son." When Mulder smiled back, she admonished him. "You're not off the hook completely, Mulder. I still resent like hell you made such an enormous decision that potentially put our son at risk like without even asking me." "I know..." "Mulder, you just can't do that to me, okay? I do trust you, that's not the issue... but, Jesus, Mulder..." she trailed off. The partners sat in silence for a while. Then Mulder reached for her small hand. Scully studied his face. "What did you dream about Mulder?" "I... I dreamt I saw Starkweather, walking, bleeding to death along the side of the road, running after Gibson. She pulled a gun on him and forced him to heal her." "Heal her?" "Yes, just like the Gray Shape shifters can. I heard Gibson calling out to me, saying "Help me, Mulder." I could hear it so clearly, it was as if he was here in the room with us. It was..." he shook his head in self-depreciation. "Spooky," he finished lamely. He reached out and stroked Scully's cheek. "I think you're right, it was just a bad dream caused by extreme stress." He turned his infamous puppy-dog-eyed charm on to her. "At least part of that stress has been alleviated." He leaned over and kissed her softly. "Where's William?" he murmured. "With John," she whispered back. "He volunteered to watch him while I got some work done." She curled up to him, putting her arms around his waist, snuggling her face into his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her. "I don't dare go beyond this," Mulder breathed into her ear. "The walls are paper-thin." He felt, rather than heard Scully laughing. "So you don't want to wrestle?" Mulder snorted. Then tried to sing. "Jeremiah was a bullfrog... was a good friend of mine..." as he rested his cheek against Scully's hair.
Meanwhile... Skinner took one bite of what the cook claimed was spaghetti with meat sauce and made a face. "I'd kill for a steak right now," he grumbled, "Medium rare. Lots of A-1 sauce... and a baked potato... and a beer. And my armchair," he thought about it for a little longer and then said. "And my dog." "Maybe I should get a pet," Reyes mumbled half-heartedly, playing with her food instead of eating it. Which was probably safer. "Something on your mind, Agent?" Skinner finally asked her. She shrugged. "No sir." "Are you lying to me, Agent?" "Yes sir." "Why?" She smiled. "Because I know you don't believe in psychic phenomena." Skinner sighed. "I've heard stranger. Remember, I was Mulder's supervisor. Until you can top the one where the sons kept impregnating their mother so she would continue to produce more deformed offspring, nothing you can say will even compare." "This stays between us?" "Of course." "Sir, I have psychic abilities." "Still doesn't top the inbreeding X-File." "I hope not. I read that file on the Peacocks. Very disturbing. No, when something doesn't feel right, a "tremor in the Force" I guess would be the best way to describe it." "I'm not a Star Trek fan, Agent Reyes." "It's from Star Wars, sir." "I'm not a science fiction fan, Agent Reyes." "Anyway..." she sighed. "Something just doesn't feel right. I sense... I feel we are all in mortal danger if we stay here. I feel we must leave immediately." "Why?" Reyes looked at him for a minute, wondering if he was merely humoring her or if he was taking her seriously. "Because I sense that someone, or something has learned of our location and is coming." "Coming?" She nodded. "Why?" "For the baby. They know William is here." "This base is top secret," Skinner said slowly. "Not any more." "Do you have any proof? Evidence to substantiate these feelings?" Reyes shook her head. Skinner said quietly. "I do not believe in psychic phenomenon. But I believe in gut instinct. And I trust you Agent Reyes. If you feel we are in danger, we will address it. Come on," he stood up. "Let's go back to the dorms. I want to talk to the others." Meanwhile... William had been fussy all night. He wasn't screaming his head off, but he wasn't his usual sunny self either. He didn't want to play with his toys or take a nap. He had cried when Scully had left him with Doggett, but once the separation anxiety dissipated, William clung to Doggett. He was acting as if something was scaring him to death. Doggett adored Scully's little boy, but truth be told, he was getting awful tired of holding him. "C'mon buddy," Doggett said when he attempted to put William down for a nap in the stroller Scully brought along to act as a crib for him. William began to whine. "What's with you?" he felt his forehead. "You're not sick. You're not hungry. You're not wet. What's the matter?" He sighed. Scully would probably have a shit fit if she found out what he was about to do this. His ex-wife always did whenever he did this to Luke, but he laid the baby down in his makeshift bed to let him whine and cry himself to sleep. Not that Doggett particularly enjoyed doing that, but he saw no other way. William still puckered his face and whimpered. The poor kid was cranky and sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning. But something was frightening him enough that he just wouldn't wind down. Sometimes, Luke had down this too. And Doggett remembered how he used to turn on a little music box his sister Melanie had given him for his christening. It distracted whatever night terrors Luke was having. Doggett looked over in the corner and saw Starkweather's guitar, abandoned when she stormed out of the room earlier today. "Okay, kid," Doggett said jokingly to the boy. "You asked for it." He walked over, picked up the acoustic guitar and sat down in the uncomfortable armchair, facing William. "If you fall asleep right away, you won't hafta hear very much of my bad playin'." He grinned, "But since I like ya, I won't subject you to my singing." He fumbled with the guitar. It had literally been years since he touched the instrument. He remembered how to strum the strings, that was easy enough, but he couldn't get his other hand to cooperate, to arrange themselves correctly so he could play other chords. "Dammit," he muttered. "I think I'll keep my day job." "Helps if you tune it," a soft voice said behind him. Doggett turned his head. "Hey Doc," he said. "You don't mind, do you?" She shook her head and walked over. He felt her rest her hand on top of his hand that was clutching the frets. "Relax your fingers," she told him. He allowed her to manipulate his hand. "Here, hold on," she said as she climbed onto the back of the chair, sitting on top of the cushion, behind him. She tuned the instrument, her arms going around him, then said, "Okay, just do this," she showed him how she wanted him to pick at the strings. "And I'll fuss with the chords." She put one hand on the frets and the other hand on his shoulder. Doggett strummed the instrument as Starkweather controlled the chords and started to sing William to sleep: "Hush my love now don't you cry If there's one thing I hope I showed you Just give love to all Oh my love... in my arms tight I know there's one thing that you showed me Just give love to all She stopped playing. "He's sleeping." "Thank God," Doggett whispered, putting the guitar down. He turned his head to face her. "I was going to resort to bribery next." He got up out of the seat of the chair and moved to sit on the arm instead, so he could better face her. "And I'm gonna kill anyone who wakes him." He stifled a yawn. "I think you need a nap more than he does," Starkweather whispered. "You look like total shit, Papa John." "You always say the sweetest things, y'know that?" "That's because I'm just one big fucking ray of sunshine." "Hate to burst your bubble, but you aren't gonna win any popularity contests with your mouth." "Not even Miss Congeniality? My feelings are hurt." Doggett snorted. "Yeah, well..." He looked at the floor. "Maybe I will go in and catch some cot time." "Good idea." Neither one of them moved. "Jerilyn..." Doggett said, helplessly. "I know..." she bowed her head, then covered her face with her hands. "I'm just as fucked up about this as you are. I have no idea what's going on... or what to do..." He stood up and went back to the front of the chair. Kneeling on the seat of the chair, gently he grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her face. "It's okay," he reassured her when she finally looked at him. "Everything will be alright." She wanted to look away from those piercing blue eyes, blue like aquamarines. Clear yet colorized and alive. Her own feral eyes shifted to a new shade on the hazel spectrum, a dark green streaked with amber and brown. "It doesn't feel like it," she whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry," he whispered back as he kissed her cheek. When he felt her small smooth hand reach for his own cheek, it emboldened him to actually kiss her on the lips. She didn't draw away. She even put her hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair. He broke the kiss first and was startled to see a tear slide down her cheek. She closed her eyes. "What do you know," she whispered even softer than before. "Ben was right." Before Doggett could ask what she meant by that, there was an enormous explosion from outside. Both agents jumped about a foot. The windows shattered. The ceiling cracked. Sirens wailed. Guns fired. People outside yelled and shouted. The power went out. William woke up with a scream. "What the hell???" Doggett cried out, drawing his gun as Starkweather leapt down from the chair and scooped William out of the stroller. Doggett, the veteran peered out the broken window. "Oh my God..." he turned to Starkweather."We got to get the hell out of here." "What the fuck is going on?" "We're under attack," he said grimly, rushing to escort her out. "WHAT?" Reyes and Skinner had been halfway to the dorms from the chow hall when they saw the lights in the sky. "What the hell?" Skinner said, looking up. He grabbed Reyes' arm. "I don't like this, let’s get the hell out of her-" A building directly behind the chow hall exploded. A missile had been launched from the helicopters above. The force of the explosion knocked Skinner and Reyes off their feet. Men and women suddenly spewed out of every building, prepared for action. Another missile was launched. Another building blew up. Skinner helped Reyes to her feet. "C'mon!" he yelled at her. "Look!" she cried out, pointing in the distance. Skinner looked and saw more lights, this time on the ground. Men, soldiers, with lights attached to their weapons. They started firing. "Holy God," Skinner said, not realizing he had uttered those words aloud. "Come on," he urged Reyes as they ran inside the dorms. Meanwhile, Scully and Mulder had burst out of their room the same time Starkweather and Doggett ran out of the television lounge. William, held tight in Starkweather's arms, was screaming. "What is happening!!" Scully cried out. "We're under attack!" Doggett told her as Starkweather handed William over to Scully and bent down to pull her Beretta from her ankle holster. The dorms shuddered again as another building on Eagle's Ridge exploded. "We can't stay here," Mulder said. "We can't go out there!!!" Doggett yelled back. Just then the door opened, Mulder, Starkweather and Doggett all stood in front of Scully and the baby, guns drawn. "It's us," gasped Skinner, holding up his hand. Reyes had her gun drawn as well. "It's a war zone out there." Another explosion, louder and closer this time shook their building even harder. "We're sitting ducks if we stay here," Starkweather said. "We're clay pigeons if we go out there!" Doggett told her. "There has to be a way out of here!" Scully cried, covering William's little ear with her hand. Outside in the battlefield, Knowle Rohrer, with a smug little grin, watched his men make mincemeat of the hapless "normal" soldiers that came charging out of their bunks to fight. It was an interesting exercise in futility. Very fun to watch. The Black Helicopters made fast work of the buildings. He didn't want all of the buildings to be destroyed, didn't want to run the risk of inadvertently killing the boy and his aunt. Half-aunt. Whatever. So only the buildings where weapons and vehicles were kept were obliterated. The air strike was over, now he gave the command to begin the land attack. He put the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Remember, only the boy, his parents and Echo as prisoners. All others are secondaries." He got out of his Humvee and started to walk towards the dormitories. There were rows and rows of base bungalows. Which one housed the FBI agents? An evil grin crossed Rohrer's face. If only Doggett hadn't crossed him. If only he hadn't been such a tight-ass and loosen up his morals, let the means justify the ends. But he couldn't. Or wouldn't. Which was typical. Well, Special Agent John Jay Doggett, USMC retired was going to learn the hard way what happened when one man tries to change the course of the future. The others, he bore no grudge against, he was simply fulfilling orders by killing them. But Doggett... no... he had already decided he was going to kill that red necked Southern boy slowly. Doggett and Skinner, both experienced in combat, crawled back into the television lounge to peer through the window as Mulder and Reyes moved to secure the front and only entrance. Starkweather hurried through each room with her backpack, throwing in any pertinent files and diskettes. Scully crouched down in the hallway, staying low, trying to shush William's cries, holding him with her left, her gun with her right. "Boo, sweet William, please..." she moaned, afraid that the child's natural reaction to terror would betray them all. Doggett and Skinner peeped out the broken glass. Then ducked down again quickly as a Super Soldier, with the reptilian spinal bump clearly sticking out, walked past. The Soldier glanced in the window, then walked on. Doggett and Skinner scurried out of there on their hands and knees. "Fuck," Doggett whispered, crouching by Scully as Starkweather joined them in their huddle. Mulder, Skinner and Reyes stood guard over them, guns drawn. Just then, Carlos' door opened. All the X-Filers jumped and drew their weapons. "It's me," Carlos hissed at them, crouching low. "Follow me now. Hands and knees. Let's go," he crawled back inside his room. Cautiously, Skinner cracked the door open wider. "Hot damn," he said in sheer relief. "Deux ex machina," Starkweather muttered, but she didn't complain too hard. There was a trap door in the center of Carlos's floor. One by one, the agents crawled into Carlos' room and descended down the trap door. Mulder took William from Scully and made her go first, then handed William to her. Then everyone else followed. Doggett was the second to the last to go down. "Carlos, what'n the hell's going on?" he demanded. "I'll tell you in a second, get your ass down there!" Carlos barked at him. The building shook with another explosion and Doggett followed ordered. Carlos, after making sure everyone was safe, hopped into the hole in his room, closing the trap door. The tiled floor looked seamless once the trap door was shut. Carlos bolted the trap door, then slid down the ladder to where all the FBI X-Files agents stood. With the agents stood four Marines, "regular" soldiers. "Bravo used Gibson Praise to discover our location," Carlos informed the agents. "I just found out." "Oh my God," Skinner groaned. "Is he okay?" Scully asked. "Gibson?" "We don't know," Carlos said, beckoning them to walk forward. Two Marines flanked Starkweather, the other two, Scully and William. "We can't find him or Bravo." "I'm beginning to really dislike that bitch," Doggett muttered. "So now what?" Starkweather demanded. "What about the mission? What about those women and children?" "Everything still goes as planned," Carlos informed her. "We still have a few aces up our sleeves, provided that we get you the hell out of here." "Where's 'here'?" Reyes asked. "One of our security measures, although I don't know how secure this is going to be in a little bit, those damn Super Soldiers are tearing everything apart," Carlos said darkly. "There's a system of tunnels, connecting all the buildings on this base." "Like in Pearl Harbor?" Starkweather asked. "Similar," Carlos said. "It's like a maze," Reyes said in wonder. "That's why I'm afraid these tunnels may not be completely secure. The replicants are doing a pretty damn good job of ripping the base apart," Carlos told her. "Why?" Doggett asked, "What're they after? Us?" Carlos didn't answer. Suddenly, Reyes stopped dead in her tracks. Her tanned face became very pale. Her lips even lost color. "Monica," Doggett paused. Everyone else did too. "What's the matter?" "I..." Reyes stopped, then started again. "Heard something," she lied. Rather she felt something, an overwhelming presence, heavy on her shoulders, choking her heart, freezing her blood. But no one, except Mulder, possibly Skinner would buy that. William instantly began to cry again. Loudly. "Shh shh shh," Scully tried to shush him again. Then, in the distance, they heard voices. "This way! We can hear the baby crying!" "Alright," Carlos took action. "You, he pointed at the Marines guarding Scully and William. "Take them to the rendezvous. Mulder, Skinner, you go with. You," he turned to the other Marines. "Take Starkweather the other way. We'll," he nodded at Doggett and Reyes, "go with. Do not attempt to fight the Super Soldiers. Just get the hell out of there." "C'mon," the soldier said to Scully. Mulder looked over his shoulder swiftly and met Starkweather's eyes as she was herded in the other direction. "If we get separated," the Marine was telling Mulder, "get to the as close to the flagpole as you can. Hide somewhere until the transport arrives. It'll be a black Ford minivan." Carlos was telling Starkweather, Doggett and Reyes the same information. "... Ford van, black." "They don't know about the mission, do they?" Starkweather demanded. "They're after William." "When will you open your eyes, girl," Carlos snapped at her. "They're after you too." The Marines signaled for them to be quiet. "Stay here," one of them said as they paused at a corner. The lights flickered on and off for a second, then went completely off. The security lights, powered by an unseen generator, came on, casting the corridor in a sickly greenish glow. "John, Jeri" Monica whispered urgently, her heart pounding. "Let's get out of here." She took her gun back out and took it off of safety. "Shh," Starkweather bent down to quickly put her Beretta back in her ankle holster but took out her 9MM FBI issued weapon out of her hip holster. She was shaking, but still holding her ground. "Mon's right," Doggett breathed over to Carlos, glancing over at Starkweather. "Let's go another way." The two Marines rounded the corner. All was quiet for a little bit. Then the screaming started. None of them waited to see what had happened to cause the screaming, the quartet took off at a full run in the other direction. Then, moving as smoothly as a ghost, Knowles Rohrer stepped out of the shadows, blocking them in. "I'm so disappointed in you," Rohrer said smugly, getting extreme joy out of the dumbfounded expression in Doggett's face. "You've lost your military touch. You're not the soldier you could be. Maybe you could have protected your son if you were. Maybe you could have protected Mulder's son. But that's what you get when you choose the wrong side." He reached for Starkweather. "Oh fuck you," she snapped, ducking his big hand faster than he anticipated. Starkweather and Doggett lifted their guns and fired point blank range into Rohrer's face and throat, emptying their clips. Gurgling in pain, Rohrer collapsed to his knees, clutching his bullet-ridden face. Reyes and Carlos turned around. "Oh shit!" Carlos cried out, seeing two more Super Soldiers walking towards them. He reached over, grabbed Starkweather by the arm and dragged her down another corridor. "This way!" he yelled at Doggett and Reyes. But the other two Super Soldiers started firing so Doggett and Reyes had to duck down a different corridor. Rohrer, meanwhile, stopped convulsing in agony. He picked himself up and stood there as his genetically altered flesh forced the bullets out of his face and neck. He felt his bones knit together, his skin stretch back out over the bones. Not a very pleasant sensation, but a necessary one. "John Doggett, you're a dead man," he snarled, reaching for his guns. "Search this hellhole!" he yelled at his subordinates. "And bring Doggett to me. I'm going to gut him like a fuckin' fish!" Only Rohrer would use his bare hands to do so.
"You mean now where?" Reyes muttered, looking around. Then she jerked her head up again. "Shh," she held her hand up. They both slid up next to the wall, in Bureau-approved stance, checking blind spots before investigating the noise. Guns went around the corner first, then they peeped around the corner. Doggett sighed in relief, "You're a sight for sore eyes." "Sir," Reyes said to Skinner. "Where are the others?" Then she noticed that his arm was bleeding. "You've been shot!" "No, it grazed me, I'm alright," Skinner said dourly. "Where's Mul-duh and Dana?" Doggett asked. "Don't know," Skinner grunted. "We were ambushed. Three Super Soldiers. Wiped out the Marines. Mulder and I managed to wound on of 'em, then I told him to take off with Scully and I ran in hopes that they'd be distracted by me. They weren't. They took off after Mulder and Scully and the baby." "We gotta find them," Doggett said. "How?" Skinner said darkly. "This whole place is a rat trap." He then noticed someone else was missing. "Where's Starkweather?" "We were ambushed too," Reyes said. "We got separated. Carlos took Starkweather." "He'll get her out," Skinner said. "It's been his job with the CIA to watch her back for years." "What 'bout Mul-duh and Dana?" Doggett asked. Reyes added, "We can't leave them." "This is what's going to happen," Skinner ordered them. "We are going to get out of here, as ordered, and get to the rendezvous. If Mulder, Scully and the baby aren't in that van, I'll go back for them myself." When Doggett and Reyes tried to protest, Skinner snapped at them, "There's no reason for all of us to get killed. And I still need good agents in the X-Files and if I bite the big one, well, Agent Doggett, you'll become AD sooner than you thought. Now, let's GO," he said in that forcible tone that few people argued with. As Doggett, Reyes and Skinner fumbled through the tunnel system, trying to find a way out, Carlos and Starkweather were still fleeing the other Super Soldiers. Starkweather, as she ran, took the empty clip out of her gun, reached into her back pocket for a fresh clip and loaded her weapon. "Over here!" Carlos grabbed her arm again and pulled her around the corner. He fiddled with something on the wall, and the panel slid open. "Get in," he pushed her none too gently into the false wall. "Holy sliding doors, Batman," Starkweather mumbled as Carlos slid in beside her and shut the door, locking it on the inside. "Shut up," he told her. They was hardly enough room for both of them. And it was miserably hot and airless. But neither one of them complained. Both were too nervous about the risk of discovery. They could hear the Super Soldiers wandering around. "Man, where'n the hell did they go?" "Search me..." Then they heard Rohrer's voice. "Where are they?" "We lost them, sir." "FIND THEM." Carlos and Starkweather heard the sound of boots running away. They waited. Eventually, they heard Rohrer walk away as well. Still, they waited a few more minutes before Carlos felt it was all clear. "Jesus," Starkweather whispered, licking her lips. "C'mon," Carlos said. "Let's go." "What about the others?" "They know to meet us by the flagpole." "What if-" "Carlos? Jeri?" Mulder's voice came from above them. "That you?" "Mulder?" Starkweather looked up. The air duct vent suddenly opened up. Mulder's long legs appeared first, then he lowered himself down. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he groaned when his feet were flat on the floor. He reached his hands up. "Scully, it's okay." A pair of small but strong hands lowered William into his father's arms. William, by this point, was terrified beyond sound. It seemed it was as if he knew now was not the time to cry. Scully, a tomboy at heart, swung herself down without any help. "Where is everyone else?" "There's no time," Carlos said urgently. "If they aren't by the rendezvous, then I'll go back myself for them, but you four," he shook his head. "Can't stay here anymore. They're after all of you." Clutching William, Mulder said. "Let's go, but if you have to go back, I'm going with you." Scully said nothing, but folded her lips tight as the four of them hurried down the hallway. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner made it out of the maze first. They found themselves in the ruins of what used to be a building of classrooms but was now an absolute shamble. The flagpole was right outside of the building. The black van was parked right next to it. An unholy silence had cloaked the entire base. Skinner peered out the broken windows. "It's clear," he told him. "Let's go." The trio slipped out of the front door, staying in the shadows. Doggett happened to look up and saw that someone had the presence of mind to hang the American flag upside, a universal sign of distress. The entire base had been laid to waste. Rubble was everywhere. Bodies were everywhere. For one weird second, Doggett thought he was back at Ground Zero. Mostly because of the unearthly quiet. The windows were tinted black. Skinner knocked on the door once, twice. Doggett and Reyes stood behind him, guns drawn. The door slid open. "Hurry," the CIA agent told him. "Get in." When the door was safely shut again, Reyes asked, "Where are the others?" "Haven't come yet," the CIA agent said. "You can call me Harris," he told them. "Call him," he nodded to the other agent, listening intently to an earpiece, "Gates. We've got Carlos wired." Gates heaved a sigh of relief. "Moose and Squirrel and Junior located," he announced. "Hurricane's still with Carlos. Carlos is bringing them up." He spoke into a microphone. "Bald Eagle, Kings and Crabass are with us. We're good to go, just hurry the hell up." "Nice code names," Reyes muttered as Skinner self-consciously rubbed his head and Doggett scowled.
"Copy," Carlos said into his collar. "It's okay," he said to them. "The others found the van. Now we've just got to get there." They went up another ladder and into another building. The building, though trashed, was still intact. Carlos peered out the window at the black van parked by the flagpole kitty-corner from them. "We're almost home free now," Carlos told them. "Let's get out of here." Instead of going straight out the front door, they slipped out the back through a broken window. Again, Mulder went first, then held out his hands for William. Scully leapt out next, followed by Starkweather. Carlos was last. "We're on our way," he said softly. "Acknowledged." Gates replied. Standing in between two buildings, Carlos pointed at the van. "We're going to have to make a run for it," he told them. "On my word, just haul ass and go. Don't look back. Got it?" Silently, he slipped up to the front of them, crouched down low and creeped over to a military jeep that was flipped over. Mulder, Scully and Starkweather followed. William, miraculously, was still being quiet. Preternaturally quiet. But his big blue Scully eyes were even bigger than usual. Starkweather prayed that the kid wouldn't be cursed with the Mulder perfect photogenic memory. Carlos peeped up over the Jeep, then ducked down quickly. "Shit!" he hissed. "Rohrer." Rohrer had just come out of the building that Doggett, Reyes and Skinner came out of. Suspicious, he peered into the van. Frowning when he couldn't see inside, he pulled out his gun and shot the side of the van. The bullet made a dent, right next to Doggett's head in fact, but did not go in. Rohrer spoke into his radio. "I think I found their getaway vehicle. Need assistance now." He smiled again, like the cat who had parked himself in front of the mouse hole. Stomach cramping, Starkweather whispered, "Now what?" "I don't know," Carlos said, looking at her, looking at Mulder holding the boy. "I don't know..." Meanwhile, Scully had also glanced at Starkweather and Mulder. Thought about all that they had lost. Mulder, his sister, his father, his mother, his health. Starkweather, her mother, her father, twice, if you included both Bill Mulder and the Admiral, her unborn baby and her husband. She looked at her son, her beautiful little son, in two more months he'll be one year old... "They're not taking him," Scully whispered fiercely. "What?" Starkweather whipped her head around. She had never seen Scully look so proud and angry and defiant before. But Mulder had. "Scully..." "Take care of him for me, Mulder," Scully said, standing up. "Scully, no!" Scully ran off, in the complete opposite direction of the van. Rohrer, seeing her, whipped around and ran after her. "Come on, let's go," Carlos realized the sacrifice Scully just made. "I can't!" Starkweather cried out. "We're not leaving her!" Mulder barked at him. "There's no time to argue," Carlos yelled at her. He turned to Mulder, snatching William out of his arms. Now William started to bawl again. "If you don't care about your skin, that's fine, but I'm not sitting by to watch this kid die especially when his mother just gave up her life for yours." He got up and started running towards the van. Mulder and Starkweather had no choice but to follow him. "Start the van!" Carlos said, getting in back, handing a screaming William to Reyes. He then grabbed Starkweather with a jerk by the arm and forced her inside just as the van started up. "Mulder!" he now grabbed Mulder's shirt roughly. "You want to completely orphan your kid? Get in the fuckin' van!" Mulder, shell shocked, climbed inside. Carlos hopped in and yelled at Harris. "Go!!" "Where's Scully??" Skinner demanded as Reyes handed William to Mulder. Angrily he repeated himself. "Where is she?" Starkweather opened her mouth then closed it, not trusting herself to speak. Mulder turned his face away from all of them, resting his cheek on William's downy head. "Gone," he finally said brokenly as the van escaped unnoticed out of Eagle's Ridge and down the Arizona highway. "She's just gone..." Reyes instantly burst into tears. Skinner began to rant "What do you mean she's gone? She can't be gone... she's not gone..." Starkweather sat in the corner of the van, elbows on knees, hands to face, reminding Doggett of that horrible day when Ben had been killed. When she was too stunned to even cry. She rocked back and forth slightly. He could almost hear her little mantra in her head: <<I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry...>> He scooted over beside her, wishing she'd say or do something, anything. But just like her brother, she placed her sorrow in a bank where she would retrieve it later, but with interest. She finally looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief, her grief and guilt beyond words, beyond tears. Doggett had no right words either. All he could do now was stay beside her. She smiled at him, blinked rapidly, then looked away. But he felt her small hand reach for his and he interlocked his fingers with hers. He knew she was crying but she didn't want him to see. That was fine with him because he had started to tear up as well. Reyes continued to weep, her sobs wracking her entire body. Skinner just sat there, shell-shocked now. He had stopped yelling, but he still could not comprehend what had just transpired. And Mulder clung to William, silent tears streaming down his face. William whimpered and looked for his mother. Scully continued to run, even as she watched the van drive away. She could hear Rohrer gaining on her, but she didn't care. William was in that van, they weren't going to get him, Mulder would never leave him and Starkweather would do her best to be a mother to him, she had that much faith in her family. She darted around buildings and burning vehicles, leading Rohrer on a merry chase. Rohrer was so angry, he didn't even notice the van leaving. His entire focus was on the diminutive redhead that hauled ass a lot faster than he assumed she could. But she didn't know how much longer she could last, her lungs burned and her side was beginning to ache. Rohrer, she knew, could run all night and not lose breath. Rohrer didn't lose breath, but he lost his patience. He suddenly leaped and tackled Scully. Scully stuck her thumbs in his eyes and he howled. She kicked him in the groin and squirmed out of his grip and got up again, limping. Her knee hurt like hell. Blinded, Rohrer got to his feet and fumbled around for her, yelling for assistance. Scully continued to hobble away, searching frantically for a place to hide now, praying there might be a chance for her to get out of this inferno and get back home where her family would be waiting for her. "Stop right there!" a voice boomed out. Scully paused, then sank to the ground. She knew she couldn't go much further. She did some serious damage to her knee when Rohrer pushed her down. She closed her eyes, waited for the worst. The Super Soldier approached her, pointing his M16 at her head. "Get up," he ordered her. "I can't," she snapped back at him. "I'm injured." The Soldier grunted, slung his gun over his shoulder and grabbed Scully by the arm, pulling her up then dragging her towards Rohrer. "Rohrer! Rohrer! I got 'er!" "Good," Rohrer was leaning on the shoulder of another Super Soldier, hand covering his eyes as they jelled back together. "The others?" "Got away, sir," the other Soldier sounded apologetic. "Doesn't matter," Rohrer muttered. "They won't leave her. We can bait the fox trap with her." A Starkweatherism popped into Scully's brain <<Go away, Bad Pun Boy>> but she kept her mouth shut. Starkweather... and Mulder had a tendency to get hit whenever they opened their mouth in an intense situation. Scully was in enough pain already, she wanted to stay conscious, keep her wits about her as much as possible. They weren't going to kill her. Not yet anyway. <<I've been in worse situations>> she told herself as they roughly dragged her towards one of the Humvees. <<And I've gotten out of worse situations. By myself. And by not killing me now, they've bought me time to figure out a way out of this...>> She tried to stifle of whimper of pain as they jerked her arms behind her back and blindfolded her. She felt the cool steel of handcuffs encircle her slender wrists. She felt strong arms pick her up and toss her carelessly into the back of the Humvee as if she was a Raggedy Ann doll. She heard the Humvee start up and then felt it moving, driving away. Her heart started to pound. She tasted blood in her mouth. She forced herself to keep breathing, to keep thinking. <<I will find a way out. I must find a way out. I must not give up hope. As long as there's hope, there's a way... but even if there is no hope, William is safe now. William is safe and nothing else matters.>> She began to pray to Saint Jude.
January 4, 2002 Doggett was jerked awake when he felt the van stop. Disoriented, he wondered why he felt so awful, then remembered numbly that they had lost Scully. He looked around the van, blinking in hopes that his eyes would adjust to the darkness but then he realized that this was not to be. It was almost pitch black inside the van. He could barely see in front of his own hand. A little light cracked in when Carlos, up in the passenger seat, rolled down his window and spoke to someone outside. Doggett could hear the murmur of voices, but could not make out what was being said. He tried to figure out where in the hell they could be that it was so dark that there wasn't even any moon or starlight. Next to him, leaning against him, he heard his partner mumble, "What ring of hell did they bring us to this time?" Her head was against his shoulder. Doggett shifted a little to put his arm around her tense shoulders. "Dunno," he breathed as the van moved on. He wondered how the others were doing, especially Mulder, naturally. Mulder was silently awake, clinging to his sleeping son. Mulder felt sick, there had been so many times that he had almost lost Scully but not quite, that his arrogance grew in leaps and bounds. To the point that deep down he believed she was invincible, immortal even. He had always believed that she would be there. To antagonize him and adore him. To frustrate him and free him. To disagree with him and to stand with him. But never sacrifice herself for him. Or William. <<How am I going to explain this to you when you are old enough to understand?>> Mulder silently asked the sleeping child in his laps. <<Will you ever be old enough to understand? I am forty-one years old and I don't even understand... Scully, god dammit it... you should have let me go...>> And then what? He would have gotten killed instead of her? And William would still be shy a parent. Reyes, wide awake as well, could sense Mulder's deep agony and she emphasized with him to the point where she experienced the same physical reactions he did. The bitter taste in the mouth. The stomach in knots. The eyes burning with more unshed tears. The body aching everywhere, feeling as though a limb had been ripped away. But, pushing some of the pain away, was another sensation. Another feeling, an undercurrent of light and fire and.... <<... hope?>> Reyes mused to herself. <<Could it be possible? Is she still alive? God, oh God please... whatever You may be or choose to be called... please let me be sensing this right and just not picking up on feelings of denial. Please let her be alive. And please let us have a chance to bring her home.>> Behind her, in a louder voice, Starkweather asked again: "Where are we?" she sounded like a high-strung child who had seen too much. Carlos, in the passenger seat did not turn around, but he did answer her. "In a top secret military base." "Top secret like Eagle's Ridge?" Now her voice dripped with nastiness, but that was to be expected. "We call it the Bat Cave if that gives you any indication how top secret this place is," Carlos retorted calmly. "It won't be the coziest of accommodations, but at least it will be a safe place for you to get some rest. God knows, we all need it." And that was the clue that tipped Doggett off that they were literally in a cave deep inside the Grand Canyon. <<Will wonders never cease?>> he thought sarcastically. <<Bat Cave... God... what's next? A meeting at the Justice League?>> He didn't join the Bureau to be a hero. The van drove through the underground military installation. Skinner had woken up from his fitful sleep and quietly asked Reyes to fill him in. As she whispered to him what Carlos told them, Skinner nodded, not surprised by anything anymore. The van halted. "Okay, stay put until I get you," Carlos instructed them as he hopped out. "I don't like this," Starkweather snapped. "This covert action is stupid. We've already lost Scully because of this Cloak and Dagger bullshit. I want to get out of here. I want to go to Phoenix and get back up from the FBI Field Office. Fuck this CIA crap." "I agree," Doggett said. "I don't," Mulder replied in a dead voice. "The Bureau would only bind us with red tape. This is our only option. To save the others. Jeremiah, Gibson, Mrs. Saint-Claire..." his voice died out. "Besides, we don't have a choice, Agent Starkweather," Skinner said wearily. "We're in too deep." "And," Reyes said timidly, knowing she was going to be skating out on the proverbial thin ice. "What if... there's a chance that Agent Scully can be retrieved? We... I wouldn't feel right about leaving until I knew for sure..." "She had a fucking Super Soldier chasing after her!" Starkweather retorted cruelly. "You tell me her chances." "One thing I've learned," Skinner said coldly to Starkweather. "Is to not assume someone is dead until you see a body." "And even then, double-check, right?" Mulder raised his head. "Well..." Skinner mumbled some non sequitors until the van door slid open. Carlos stood in front of six heavily armed CIA agents. "Aw, no Caped Crusader?" Starkweather drawled. "I'm disappointed." She shrugged off Doggett's arm and got out of the van. "They will escort you to where you will be staying," Carlos told the remaining FBI X-File Division as they climbed out of the van. "Get some rest while you've got time. I need to check on something first, then I'll be back with any information about Agent Scully." He started to turn to walk away. "Wait," Mulder commanded. Carlos stopped. Mulder looked at the others. "I'll catch up," he promised them, handing a still sleeping William to Starkweather. Starkweather stared at him suspiciously, but obediently turned and went with the others. "Quid pro quo," Mulder said, imitating Anthony Hopkins’s spooky Dr. Hannibal Lector. "What do you have?" Carlos stood nose to nose with Mulder. "What do YOU have?" Mulder crossed his arms and held his ground. "One ace left, you?" "The Joker." "Holy cryptic horseshit, Batman," Carlos muttered, then turned around again. "Well, come on." Mulder followed him.
Meanwhile... "Get up," a Super Soldier roughly shook Scully awake, then tore off her blindfold. Scully swallowed a cry of pain as he rolled her over and removed her handcuffs. When he rolled her over again and lifted her up, she looked down and saw that her right knee had puffed up to twice its normal size. <<Not good>> she groaned to herself as the Super Soldier forced her to hobble towards what looked to be a very inconspicuous looking governmental building. Inside the lobby, the Super Soldier stripped her of her gun, badge and identification. He went through her wallet with her standing there. Enraged, Scully did nothing except glare at him and grind her teeth. Weaponless and injured, there was nothing more she could do. The replicant pulled out a photograph of William and handed it to Knowle Rohrer as he walked in, completely healed now. "Thank you," he said, looking at the picture, then stuffing it in the breast pocket of his uniform. He grabbed Scully by her upper arm and started to pull at her. "Let's go." Scully had no choice but to limp along with him. It was hard to keep up, but since he showed no signs of slowing down, she hopped along the best she could. The walk down the hall seemed very long to Scully. The pain in her shattered kneecap was almost unbearable. She started to lag behind, but Rohrer jerked her along. A door to the left opened up. Scully turned her head towards the sound and saw the Cancer Man stepping out, lighting up a cigarette. Scully lost all composure, lost all sense of pain and started to fight against Rohrer's grip, screaming bloody murder at the Cancer Man, who walked down the hall away from them as if they weren't even there. "God damn you!" she shrieked at his retreating back. "You black-lunged coward! You chain smoking son-of-a-bitch! I'll haunt you! I'll haunt your nicotine ass! No exorcism will get rid of me! You'll live your days sorry you ever heard of the X-Files! You hear me!! You HEAR me, you sorry, lying, smoking bastard!" Rohrer dragged her into an elevator and hit the down button. The Cancer Man just kept walking ahead. <<Ah, the irony is, Agent Scully>> he thought dispassionately at he looked up at the brilliantly starry night. <<I already regret hearing about the X-Files.>> As the Cancer Man continued to smoke and contemplate the stars, a black Jeep Cherokee pulled up. The back doors opened up. Bravo and Agent Crane got out. "How did it go?" Bravo asked anxiously. "Not as well as hoped," the Cancer Man sighed. "You executed your part flawlessly as expected. However, the actual raid was only slightly successful." "Slightly?" "We managed to only capture Agent Scully. The rest escaped." "Are you going to use Agent Scully as bait? To lure the others?" Crane asked. "There doesn't seem to be much other choice, is there?" Bravo spit out. "Mulder and Starkweather would go after her. We can not afford to pass up this opportunity." "I'll pass word to Kersh that Agent Scully is alive," the Cancer Man said smoothly. "He will find a way to relay that information to Assistant Director Skinner. Who will then inform the others." He then noticed Crane rubbing his neck. "Something wrong?" <<Yeah, that fucking chip you put in my neck when I was eighteen years old>> Alpha, disguised as Agent Crane, thought bitterly. "Air travel doesn't agree with me," she said lightly in Agent Crane's voice. "My neck gets stiff." "Make the preparations for the transport," Cancer Man said. "We need to decide on which location to take them to," Bravo reminded him. "Since the Black Hills lab has been destroyed." Knowles Rohrer came out to join them. He lit his own cigarette, then handed one to Bravo, who accepted eagerly. "Agent Scully comfortable?" the Cancer Man asked sardonically. "She passed out. She wrecked her knee. She won't be going anywhere," Rohrer said blithely. "However, in all seriousness, I think we should evacuate you, sir." "Why?" The Cancer Man was truly puzzled. "Security. The CIA knows fully well where this location is. I believe they will retaliate." "The military versus the Replicants?" Bravo snorted. "Not a chance." "But you're not invincible and neither is he," Crane said quietly. The Cancer Man snuffed out his cigarette butt, then reached into his jacket for his pack. Rohrer held out his own. "I don't smoke Camels," he told him. "But thank you anyway." He lit up. "I don't like being put out to pasture, Agent Crane," he told Alpha silkily. "Like it or not," Rohrer said. "I think it would be in your best interest to go." "And the interest of the Syndicate," Bravo added. "Think about it," she persisted when the Cancer Man did not respond. "How much longer is the Syndicate going to last with that idiot at the helm?" "There are already groups splintering off," Rohrer added. "This is a dangerous time. The Visitors are angry. They are considering to forego a peaceful invasion via the virus and go for complete domination without our assistance. They are recalling test subjects." Alpha rubbed her neck again as the imbedded chip burned. Rohrer continued, "And if they are going to attack, then we need a new plan. And a new leader. The one we have is not prepared to deal with a military battle, only shadow conspiracies within the government. You are capable of running both." Sickened, Alpha watched the Cancer Man's ego grow. "If that is the case," Cancer Man said slowly. "Then we need Mulder and Starkweather more now than ever. And the child. Alive." He took another drag. "I will leave tonight." He put out the fresh cigarette and walked to the Cherokee. "Bravo, I expect you to keep me informed." "Yes sir." "I'll send word of my location to Bravo and Bravo only," the Cancer Man got into the driver's seat. "Good luck." He started the ignition and drove away. "Rohrer," Bravo said. "Tell me what exactly happened tonight at Eagle's Ridge." Frowning, he asked "Where's Gibson Praise?" "A safe location," she said blandly. "Now, come inside and tell me what happened. Then we need to discuss what location will be the safest to send the merchandise. Crane? You coming?" "In a bit." "You look shitty," Bravo said. "Go rest." She and Rohrer went inside. Alpha did not dare change back into her true self, even in Agent Crane's room. As paranoid as the Syndicate was, she would not be surprised if there were surveillance cameras everywhere. She pulled out her little notebook computer and turned it on, waited impatiently for it to boot up. Finally, she accessed her email and sent an encrypted message to Agent Lux Carlos. She then erased her hard drive and powered down. Then, neck throbbing, she slipped into bed. Grateful that she could keep whatever form she chose, even when sleeping, she closed her eyes, hoping that she could get rest. Rest from the burning ache in the back of her neck and from the nightmares she'd been having lately. <<"They're recalling test subjects.">> She sighed. She hoped she would be able to finish this mission before she had to go underground again. To hide again.
Meanwhile... Carlos led Mulder to a quiet room. "Sit. Please." he gestured towards a chair as he sat down himself. "Alright," Carlos said, "I call. What's your Joker?" "Who's your Ace?" "I asked you first." "Should we say it at the same time?" "Okay, fine. Mulder... I have to trust you to keep this a secret. Her life depends on it." "Whose life?" "Our Ace. Our spy within the Syndicate. If they find out... her life's not worth shit." "Who is it?" "Her name is Lilly Stratford. Does that ring any bells?" "Lilly... Psycho boy’s girlfriend?" "Psycho boy’s PROM date. Lilly is very adamant about that. She said that she had always thought he was a swarmy little troll. She said she only went out with him to please her adoptive social-climbing parents And has not been impressed with his exploits in the name of saving her from the aliens." "Poor Leo," Mulder smirked. "Lilly can get a hold of information that we would not otherwise be able to have access to." "What information?" "All kinds. She was the one that tipped us off about the Eden Project in the first place. But her time is limited. She is afraid. She discovered that they are recalling test subjects. She is afraid she is next and will have to go underground again." "Because she was part of the Eden Project." "Yes. She was the first girl to be born. Each of the surviving Eden Project test subjects have... um..." "What?" "Are different in their own special way. Alpha can shapeshift." "Like the Greys?" "Yes. Bravo has extraordinary strength. Charlie is clairvoyant." "Clairvoyant?" Mulder said doubtfully. "Bravo, disguised as Agent Starkweather, went to Charlie. She had Gibson Praise as her hostage. She co-ersed Charlie into telling her where Eagle's Ridge was." Mulder froze. "Was Bravo injured when she escaped? A stomach wound?" Carlos stared at him. "Yes... Alpha tried to stop her. She stabbed her... how did you know..." Mulder turned white. "I'll tell you later. Go on. Tell me about Samita and Jerilyn." "Samita Saint-Claire is the nicest person in the whole wide world," Carlos said glumly. "She's also the most boring person in the whole wide world to monitor. She sounds almost too good to be true. She's a kindergarten teacher who married into money. Before this nightmare erupted, she and her husband just adopted their second child." "You said almost too good to be true," Mulder said. "Samita is brilliant beyond any standardized test. Which isn't saying much because the subjects of the Eden Project and the Litchfield Experiments and any of the Syndicate's genetic programs are. What I'm saying is that academically, Samita has all of them beat. Lilly, Jerilyn, Charlie, Bravo, they would all lose if they went head-to-head in a battle of wits with Samita. "For example, Charlie, after her, uh, "miraculous" recovery from mental illness, is showing proficiency as an artist. Samita draws, paints and sculpts with practically photographic accuracy. Jerilyn? She speaks four languages. Samita speaks seven. And Jerilyn plays, what, seven, eight musical instruments? Samita plays fourteen plus she composes her own music." "Good God." "However," Carlos leaned back in his chair. "Samita's true love is science. After graduating two years early from high school, Samita was accepted into MIT, full ride scholarship. That scholarship was yanked away after her sophomore year due to poor academics. It was said that Samita was too young to handle the pressure of MIT." "I don't buy it," Mulder said. Carlos nodded his head, "Neither did we, so we did some digging. Samita had decided that she wanted to get into genetic engineering." "I already know where this is going, don't I?" Mulder folded his lips tightly together. "Probably. Same shit, different day. Someone got scared that the Truth was going to come out and all kinds of hell would be raised. So they went and threatened a few of her professors who started failing her. Blah blah blah. Samita lost her scholarship, dreams crushed, she flunked out of school. The end. The BEGINNING of that sob story was a class presentation on the structure of human DNA. Samita used herself as a test subject. Amazing what havoc one droplet of blood can create. When Samita realized that her blood structure wasn't QUITE like everyone else's, she started asking questions." "And she got stomped on." "The Syndicate decided it would be better to kill her spirit rather than her. Marita and Felitza were stupid to assume that they had successfully hid her all these years. The minute Samita graduated at age sixteen as class valedictorian with a full ride to MIT, the Syndicate knew exactly who and what she was." "Still, Samita should have fought back against MIT. She knew full well she didn't fail those courses." "Mulder. Don't be obtuse. You know what the Syndicate is capable of. She was probably tipped off by one of her sisters not to fight it. And don't make the mistake of confusing her with Jerilyn. They are nothing alike. Samita doesn't have Jerilyn's fortitude. She's..." Carlos sighed helplessly. "She's just a nice person, Mulder. I can't emphasize that enough. She's actually quite happy in being a kindergarten teacher. She loves kids. She loves her family. She loves her life, she has no regrets. She doesn't deserve this. But she's not a fighter. That's where WE come in." "What about Jerilyn?" Mulder glared at Carlos. "Almost a year ago, the Admiral approached me and Scully begging us to protect her. We know from what now, but we still don't know why. What is so god damned special about her?" Carlos shook his head. "We know of one reason, but I don't think that even covers the entire picture." "What?" "One of the reasons why the Syndicate is so threatened by Agent Starkweather is because when she was born, they fucked up." "How?" "All of the test subjects were to be sterilized." Mulder's mouth dropped open. "Jerilyn can have children." "The only ONLY thing saving her ass right now is it's very well broadcasted that she does not want children. That her career is first." "But she almost had a child." "Almost." Carlos lowered his head. "I didn't get there in time to dismantle the device they put on their water supply to poison it. In the exact same way they managed to put LSD into your water supply, they put the drugs mifepristone and misoprostol, otherwise known as-" "The Abortion Pill," Mulder closed his eyes. "Approved and in use in Europe and highly controversial here in the United States." "And ninety-five percent effective." Carlos raised his head. "Alright, Mulder, I told you what you needed to know. Now, it's your turn." Mulder reached behind him and lifted up his shirt. "I stuffed these in the back of pants when we were first attacked-" "Well, they'd be safe there." Mulder gave him a dirty look and put three leather journals on the table. "Hello," Carlos' eyebrows rose. "What's this?" "The last remaining journals of Lynnette Malone Bailey. The top two are the two that Bunny and I saved from Senator Wesley-Bailey's fireplace... what did we end up doing with her right away?" "She's still in protective custody. We still don't know what the hell to do with her. We can't charge with anything, but we don't dare let her go. It's a quandary." "Nice word." "Thank you, I've been doing those "Word Power" tests in "Reader's Digest." But anyway... go on." "And the bottom one is the journal Agent Reyes retrieved when she and Scully were in Hawaii." He didn't want to say her name, saying her name hurt right now. Thinking about her hurt right now. He had to pause for a second. Sympathetically, Carlos said, "We will make them pay for what they did to Scully. EVERYTHING they did to Scully." Nodding, Mulder closed his eyes. "I know," he whispered. Then, embarrassed at such an unprofessional display of emotion, he cleared his throat and went on. "When Scully was less than happy with me and not talking to me, I had time to catch up on some light reading." "What did you discover?" "That the name 'John Michelle' pops up more and more. Here," Mulder opened the first journal and opened it to a page he had book marked with a Post-It Note. "Read this." He slid the book towards Carlos. Carlos started to read aloud: "November 22, 1974 I am in hell here in paradise. I feel so undeserving of the blessings that have blown into my life, like petals on the wind, blowing across the beach. I have a darling husband, an honest and good man..." (here Carlos snorted in derision and Mulder shrugged) "... and a beautiful, healthy little girl. I cannot get over her eyes. They sparkle like topaz. And she has the cutest little voice, she is learning more and more words every day. I have a nice home on a gorgeous island, heaven on earth. And yet the demons haunt me, the fear of the fire in the sky coming back for me. And my childhood lessons have manifested into monstrous mirages, following me as I go grocery shopping or take my daughter to the beach or out to eat with my husband. I'll see John on the street corner, I'll blink my eye and then he'll be gone and then I feel faint, sick, like I used to whenever the Visitors in the Sky would return me to my bed when I was a child. If I answer the phone and no one responds, I am convinced it is him. I smell cigarette smoke and I have a panic attack. Jeremy asks me what is wrong. All I can tell him is nothing. But everyday is a nightmare for me. Because it's been too perfect for too long. I can hardly breathe for I am so afraid of when they are going to come back for me... or maybe this time, it's not for me, but for Jerilyn. And I don't know how to stop that from happening." Carlos closed the book. "She's a good writer," he said quietly. "Cigarette smoke?" Mulder challenged him. "That dirty son-of-a-bitch," Carlos growled. "He was involved romantically with young Lynnette Malone, before she met the Admiral," Mulder fumed. "He manipulated her..." in a faltering voice, he added. "Just like he did my mother. Tricked her into believing he really cared about her... when all he was doing was gathering up... *merchandise*," he finished bitterly, thinking of Jerilyn, thinking of Samantha, thinking of William, thinking of... <<You know you're my one in five billion...>> "Go get some rest, Mulder," Carlos ordered him kindly. "It's been a bad night for all of us." He stood up and went to Mulder's side. In a brotherly manner, he clamped his hand on his shoulder. "Go see your kid and your sister. That's what you need right now. I'll relay your information to our boys and run with it. Thank you." Mulder, too tired and too overcome to say anything else, nodded his head. Carlos discreetly left the room so Mulder could have a moment to himself and cry his eyes out without witnesses.
Scully's eyes fluttered open. She heard a familiar feminine voice. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," Scully grunted, trying to sit up. Then she groaned as her knee reminded her that she had torn up the ligaments when she had tussled with Knowle Rohrer. "Oh shit," she laid back down on the dirty floor, closing her eyes again. She felt a cool palm on the top of her forehead. "You're hurt, you should have said something," the husky voice scolded her. Scully felt a hand slid underneath her head and tilt it up just a little. "No, I'm fine, I'm-" Scully protested, but then she felt a tin rim of a cup touching her lips gently. "It gets hot down here. You need all the fluids you can get. And they don't give us a lot of water. You need to keep your strength." The voice was stern now and Scully recognized it. "Jerilyn?" She opened her eyes and looked up. "No... my name is Samita Saint-Claire." She handed her the cup now. "What's your name?" Scully stared for a moment at the familiar heart-shaped face and pouty lips. But her hair was a soft brown, her eyes a soft blue. No scar on her forehead. No sarcasm dripping from her tongue. This was not Jerilyn. This was... "... Delta..." Scully muttered, closing her eyes again. "What?" Samita asked her. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Did you say your name was Delta?" "Huh? Wha... no," Scully tried to pull herself together. But she was so tired and the pain truly was overwhelming her. "Dana. My name is Dana Scully." She tried to sit up even more. She opened her eyes and surveyed the dim cell. She saw five terrified women, trying to cuddle and sooth eight little girls. She saw another woman in the corner, badly beaten, almost unrecognizable. "Felitza," Scully muttered darkly. Startled, Samita whispered to her. "Yes... how did you know her name?" Scully continued to look around. She saw Jeremiah Smith, sleeping in the corner <<Oh God, can he help me fix my knee? Stupid question Dana, if he can raise the dead, then he can fix one damn kneecap... but where...>> "Is the boy? Where is the boy, Gibson Praise?" "Shh," Samita said nervously. "Not so loud. They don't like us talking so loud." In sotto voice she told her, "I don't know where the boy is. They came and took him away." "Who's They?" "The soldiers and a man." "Does this man smoke a lot?" "Yes." "Great, this just keeps getting better." Scully muttered. "Can you, could you please wake that man up? I need to talk to him." "I am awake," Jeremiah said simply, without moving. "A pleasure seeing you again Agent Scully, despite the circumstances." "Agent?" Samita whispered. "Like a federal agent?" "Yes, but don't say anything," Scully ordered her. "I don't want to spread false hope or to give away plans that are already in action. But I was part of a task team to release you." "And you are doing a marvelous job so far," Jeremiah quipped. Scully's patience was dwindling to zero but she still managed to ask him as nicely as she could, "Can you help me? I can't walk." "Why fix someone," Jeremiah said resignedly as he reached out his hand, "that They are only going to tear apart again?" He clamped his hand firmly on Scully's knee. Scully bit on her shirt sleeve to stifle her screams as her knee began to burn white-hot. As quickly as the burning sensation encapsulated her knee, it was gone. Along with the pain. Scully flexed her knee. "Thank you," she said simply to Jeremiah, who nodded and reclined back into his corner. Samita's eyes were round with astonishment. "Oh my God... how..." But before Samita could complete her question, the lights in the basement flipped on. Scully squeezed her eyes tightly shut, blinded like the others after being in the dark for so long. Agent Crane entered the cell, carrying a cooler. "Water," he grunted, reaching into the cooler and handing small bottles of water to each of the women. The women accepted the bottles, even though they were used bottles refilled with tap water, as if they were diamonds and gold jewelry. The little girls recoiled from the man so Crane just dumped their water bottles on the ground. "Smith," he grunted, throwing his water bottle at him. Smith caught it deftly. Crane crouched down by Felitza. As he pretended to examine her, he said "Agent Scully, don't let it be broadcasted that your knee is healed," he palmed to her a smooth stone. "What is this?" "Put it in your shoe," Crane murmured. "It's an old theatre trick. It helps to make your limp look more realistic." "How did you know that-" "Agent Scully, there is no time, you must listen to me now. I am a friend. I am Carlos' contact. But I am not going to be able to help much longer. We must finish this." Now Carlos palmed her a small vial. "Hide that. It's the anti-viral to the Purity. Tomorrow, they will be transporting you out along with the others to a research lab. They are very excited to have you back." Those words sent chills down Scully's spine. "Who are you?" Crane looked up at her. Only it wasn't Crane anymore. "A friend," Lilly Stratford said before quickly morphing back into Crane. "I've temporarily dismantled the surveillance cameras. But my window is almost up." Taking this as a hint, Scully unbuttoned her shirt, took out one of the cookies in her push-up bra and slid the vial in before putting the padding back in and re-buttoning her shirt. Crane nodded approvingly. "Everything proceeds as planned. Do exactly what you were supposed to do as if you were still operating with the X-Files Division. Good luck." She got up, cloaked in the form of Crane and left. "We can feel when another has used their healing powers," Smith said lowly after Crane left. None of the other women had noticed what had transpired. They were too traumatized to notice anything except the frightened children. Scully took advantage of this and so spoke to Smith as she untied her hiking boot to slip the stone inside. It felt very uncomfortable. "How long have you been their prisoner?" she asked him. "Ever since you recovered Agent Mulder in Montana," Smith said. "At first I was useful to them. I healed the Smoking Man of his emphysema just as I healed him of his lung cancer in the past. They would probe me for information. I am a traitor, Agent Scully," he said gently. "A traitor against my own race and species. You see, I had been working with Absalom the Prophet and the Alien Rebels, the Ones-With-No-Faces to free this planet for quite some time. My kind... aren't real happy with me. After they captured me, they used me as a free-for-all healer for the humans they needed to keep around." "Like the Cancer Man." "They will probably make the Cancer the Puppet King of the Ruined World. And he will lord over it like a demented god without realizing he is the mere pet to the true master race." "That's nice," Scully said tartly, not wanting to waste time on lovely imagery. "What's happening to you now?" "They are finished with me. I tried one more instance of rebellion. And now," he said bitterly. "I think it may have gotten Gibson killed. He was helping with the rebellion. I was communicating with the boy through telepathy," he sighed. "I have no idea where he is now. All I can hope for him is that he is safely dead." Scully folded her lips, remembering the sweet-faced little boy with the great big glasses. Remembering leaving him in the hospital after finding him, bleeding all over in the backseat of her rental car. <<"That's not what you thought. You thought "Butchers.">> <<He's not a little boy anymore... oh God... is this what William has to look forward to as he gets older... oh God, please no, not my baby. Not my little boy... Mulder, Starkweather, protect him...>> "And..." she whispered. "What about you?" "Me? Oh, They are through with me. My usefulness is up. I am being delivered to execution." "Can..." Samita butted into the conversation hesitantly. "May I ask you something?" "Sure," Scully said uneasily, bracing herself for questions she could not answer and for questions that she did not quite believe the answers herself. "Is my family okay?" Samita blurted out, her pretty blue eyes welling up with tears. Pretty blue eyes she inherited from the Well-Manicured Man. "My husband... my kids... are my kids safe?" her voice cracked. "Your children are safe. They are currently in an FBI safehouse along with your husband's mother. We thought it would be prudent to offer her protection as well. Um..." Scully stalled. "After he was discovered after your abduction, your husband was rushed to Bon Secours Hospital in Richmond. They hurt him very badly, Mrs. Saint-Claire, however, by the time that we left to come here, he was listed in stable yet critical care." "You're not telling me something though..." "They broke his back. He is paralyzed from the waist down." "Oh God," Samita sobbed into her hands. "Connor..." "Samita... can you remember how you got here? Who took you? Can you tell me anything?" Scully pried her. Samita wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "Well, um... Connor and I were planning a party. For our new baby. I can't have children. We had just come back from Korea. We adopted a little girl from an orphanage out there. Her name is Kora-Lee. She's going to be two. Her new brother already started calling her Kory." She closed her eyes and smiled at the memory. "His name is Alexandru. We call him Drew. We adopted him a year ago. From Romania." "How old is your son?" Scully asked "Almost four. He's such a sweet little boy." "I have a son too," Scully said haltingly. "His name is William. He'll be a year old in March... and I want to see him again..." she squeezed her eyes tight. "So badly. So... I need you to tell me everything and anything that had happened to you that may be able to help me get us out of this." Samita nodded her head. "We were planning on a get together to celebrate Kory's baptism. We were going to have friends and family over. I was vacuuming; Connor was carrying extra chairs from the basement. Drew and Kory were watching cartoons on television..." she gulped and then continued. "Then these men, dressed in black burst through our front door. Connor threw the chairs down, demanded what in the hell they wanted and..." she sobbed for a little bit before continuing again. "They took out b-b-batons and s-s-started to b-beat him," she cried. "Then one of them, the one they call... I think his name is Noel..." "Knowle," Scully sighed. "Knowle Rohrer." "He grabbed me and hit me and I... I blacked out. Next thing I remember is being shaken away by a solider and being herded out of a plane. With Felitza," she looked over at her broken sister. "It looked like we were on a tropical island. I didn't get to see very much of the outside," Samita admitted. "Felitza and I were in a room together. I asked her what was going on, but she said "Sam, it's better if you don't know anything...um... um... then these men came in, they..." now she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. She whispered. "They tied her down to a table and said 'This is what comes to traitors' and... they... did things to her... and they forced me to... watch." She covered her face with her hands again. Scully left that one alone for the time being. "Go on..." "Then the Man Who Smokes came in and told them to stop. He told them that their position had been compromised, that two agents from..." she lowered her hands and crinkled her brow in confusion. "The X? Files? The X-Files were snooping around." "That would be me and my partner, Agent Monica Reyes," Scully whispered. "We were following up on a tip. The CIA had taken pictures of you in Hawaii. The mystery was that you had arrived in Hawaii in an impossibly short amount of time. Far shorter than deemed possible." "I couldn't tell you how I got there," she told her. "I was unconscious. And I was unconscious when I came here. I woke up and found myself in this cell, with Felitza, and that man," she nodded towards Jeremiah Smith. "And those women. And those little girls. I'm sorry, Agent Scully," she whispered. "I can't tell you anything else because I don't know anything else. Some of the little girls are too young to even understand what's going on. The others are traumatized. They said that bad men came, killed their parents and took them here. Some of the women say that they are... um..." she looked over at Jeremiah Smith nervously. "Alien abductees and they were merely being returned to the aliens. I thought they were just suffering delusions due to post-traumatic stress," she looked at Scully's knee nervously. "The other women don't understand why they're here and neither do I," Samita scooted around Scully so she could check on Felitza who was practically catatonic. "I'm a kindergarten teacher. I'm a member of the PTA. I teach Sunday school. I'm **boring**," she sniffled. "Marita and Felitza were always the wilder ones. Not me." "Mrs. Saint-Claire," Scully said, all business now. "We have a theory as to why you are here. And once we get out of this, it will be explained to you fully. But right now, I need you to try and remember any detail, anything at all that could help us get these bastards once we do get out." Samita shook her head. "I'm sorry..." Scully relented. "It's alright." "Can..." she pointed her finger at Smith. "Can he heal Felitza?" "It would be safer," Smith said gently. "If we wait until we are put onto the transport. When they aren't watching us so closely." Just then one of the little girls, barely three years old, woke up and began to cry. "Excuse me," Samita whispered and got up to go to the terrified child. "Katie... shhh... oh, sweetie, it'll be alright..." she picked her up and hugged her tight. "Everything will be alright, sweetheart..." She began to sing softly to the child. "Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Meanwhile... "... Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah William continued to fuss. "Come on, Boo," Starkweather groaned softly as she paced back and forth in the dimly lit room. "You're killing me here." While Mulder went to have a powwow with Carlos, the others had been led to a secured room deep within the hidden base. It reminded Starkweather of summer camp, for the room was large, but several cots were crammed into it. There were no windows. There was one overhead light, but Skinner had turned it off, claiming he had a headache. No one argued with him. The safety lights that remained on glowed green. The walls were cinderblock, the floors concrete. It was a very dismal place. Starkweather felt like whimpering along with William, who woke up very very whiny. By some miracle, as if they had anticipated this flight from Eagle's Ridge, baby supplies had been laid out on one of the cots so Starkweather was able to change his diapers ("How in the hell did THIS job get assigned to me?" she had grumbled) and wrap him up in a fuzzy blankie, but he was still not happy, and who could blame him? Starkweather hoped she wasn't keeping everyone up. She was dying to get some sleep herself, to not think about this horrible, horrible day. <<God damn you Scully!!>> she railed against her friend. <<Not you too! First Ben, now this??? Jesus, God, when will this stop??>> "Want me to try?" a soft, graveled voice asked from behind her. Starkweather turned around and saw Doggett standing there. Shirt rumpled, jeans filthy with dust, hair tousled. Even in the shadows, she could see how tired he must feel. "Go for it," she sighed as she handed William off to him, folding up the baby blanket awkwardly and hugging it to her chest. "Sorry to keep you awake." "S'ok, Doc," Doggett murmured. "Couldn't sleep anyway... hey, hey, hey, what's this? What's this?" he gently admonished William in the voice he reserved for small children and dogs. "There's none of that here." William snuggled into the crook of Doggett's arm and whimpered, but quieter now. He was finally starting to cry himself to sleep. "How're you doing?" Doggett asked his partner. "Shitty. You?" "'Bout the same." "God, I hope Reyes is right... about Scully." "Me too." "First thing I'm going to do when I see her is deck her for being so damn stupid," Starkweather hugged the folded blanket closer to her. "Yeah... well... I think you and Mul-duh are rubbin' off on her." "Terrific." Reyes lifted her head just a bit and opened her eyes in time to see Starkweather move in closer to Doggett. For a minute, she thought she was going to kiss Doggett, but actually she leaned in to kiss William. Doggett, however did put his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear that made her smile and nod her head. Reyes smiled and closed her eyes. The weird green safety lights of the room created an optical illusion that would have made Doggett and Starkweather laugh under different circumstances. The way Starkweather had the blanket folded looked as if she had another child wrapped up in it. For a weird, weird moment, Reyes thought she was holding a little girl. It truly looked like a Kodak moment to Reyes, as if they were family, with a boy and a girl, a son and a daughter of their own. Reyes' eyes popped back open. She didn't see an optical illusion. She saw the future. Starkweather moved away from Doggett, breaking the eerie premonition. She sat down on her cot. "I can take him now." "Sure, take 'em when he's sleepin'." "Damn right. Do I look stupid?" "You look like hell," Doggett told her. "Aw, I bet you say that to all the ladies." Starkweather flopped to her back, then rolled to her side. "Just the ones with shiners. How's your chin?" Doggett crouched down beside her and carefully placed William next to her. The boy yawned, but stayed asleep. "Hurts, but I'll live. What about you? Your arm, your ribs?" "Not as bad anymore." "Liar." "Good night." "Whatever," she smiled as she draped an arm over William. William snuggled up to her as Starkweather's eyes drooped shut. Doggett collapsing onto his cot, wondered when the other boot was going to drop. <<Drop? Hell, it's gonna come kick us in the ass>> was his last coherent thought before falling into an uneasy sleep. Later on that night, Mulder crept into giant dorm room. He looked around, panicking for a minute when he didn't see William immediately. Then his heartbeat slowed back down to a normal rate when he saw his boy, sleeping spread-eagled, next to his aunt. Mulder hovered over them. Debated about moving William, then decided it would be best not to wake him up. The poor child had been through enough today. Mulder flopped onto the cot next to Starkweather and William and turned to his side so they would be the first thing that he would see when he woke up in the morning. <<If there is a morning>> Mulder thought. He finally learned that nothing should be taken for granted. That life offered no constants.
January 4, 2002 Mulder opened his eyes. His sleep was neither deep nor long plus it had been plagued by nightmares. He had no idea what time it was since the room was just as dark and gloomy as it had been when he entered it last night. In the greenish glow of the safety lights, he saw the outline of his fiery half sister and his placid little son. William was still sound asleep, sprawled out on the cot. Starkweather was still on her side, on the very edge of the cot, one arm draped protectively over the boy's midriff. She yawned, stirred a little, then fell back to sleep. Mulder swung himself out of the cot. He crouched down beside Starkweather's cot. Gingerly, he picked up Starkweather's arm, intending to slide William from out under her. In a flash, Starkweather was fully awake, pulling out from under her pillow her gun with the other hand. Startled, Mulder fell to his ass and put his hands in the air. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's just me." She blinked. "Sorry," she muttered, sitting up and putting the safety back on. "Paranoid." "Runs in the family," Mulder got up, dusted himself off and picked William up. He then sat down beside Starkweather again. William woke up and with an excited squeal, he started bouncing up and down in Mulder's lap, chattering in his infant gibberish, sounding like a little robin. "Hey slugger!" Mulder lifted the boy up and then tossed him into the air a little ways, catching him easily. William squealed with delight. Starkweather smiled. "Careful Mulder, he might toss his cookies." "I'll hold him over you." "Gee, thanks." Mulder put William down on his lap again, only this time on his feet. As William stood, wobbling uncertainly, Mulder kept his big hands firmly yet gently around William's fat little tummy. William began looking around the dark room, face puckering. He began to whine. "He looking for Scully," Mulder said softly. "We are all still looking for Scully," Starkweather replied. "Maybe it's dumb to hope... but... shit, I've got to be able to hold onto something, hope that something goes right. That maybe she's out there and we can bring her home." "What if she's not?" Mulder voiced the extreme possibility. "Reyes is right," Starkweather said begrudgingly, although she felt extremely guilty now for biting off Reyes' head earlier. "We have to try. We have to at least try." The others began to stir. "Mornin'," Skinner said gruffly, reaching for his glasses that he had put on the floor next to his cot. "Good morning, sir," Reyes sat up with a yawn. She scratched her head. "What time is it?" Doggett checked his watch. "I can't see, it's too damn dark in here." Skinner got out of bed. "Anyone mind if I turn the overhead light on?" Before anyone could reply, Carlos burst into the room and flicked on the lights. Everyone winced. "Warn us," Starkweather bitched. "Before doing that." "Good morning ladies and gentlemen," Carlos sounded way too cheerful. "Hope you all got your beauty sleep. I have good news for you all. According to our source within the Syndicate, Agent Scully is still alive and is being kept alive for the time being." "Oh thank God," Skinner lowered his head. "Thank God when we get her and the other hostages out of there. They are making her into "merchandise" which means she's going to be on those semi-trucks when they make their "delivery."" "When?" Mulder demanded. "When are they making the run?" "Don't know. As of right now, the Syndicate is still bickering as to which lab to send them to." "Why," Starkweather snapped impatiently. "Can't we just call a local television station and the Phoenix Field Office, get backup and storm the damn place? If they hate publicity so much, why all this James Bond hoo-rah and just shove them into the limelight they hate so much?" "Doc," Doggett reminded her. "Carlos said that the place was crawlin' with Soldiers like the ones we ran into in South Dakota. Soldiers that can't die. It'd be a death trap if we went in." "Plus," Mulder added. "The Phoenix Field Office wouldn't believe us." "Yeah... but..." Frustrated, she folded her arms. "I hate waiting around like this." "Enjoy the wait, it's the... calm before the Hurricane," Carlos grinned at her. "Fuck you." "There's showers down the hall, around the corner. I'll try and rustle up some clean clothes for you all, although they may be military issue." "Just as long as I have clean underwear again," Mulder said with a straight face. "Have you ever worn military issue underwear?" Starkweather asked him. "There's not much difference." Reyes stood up. "The showers aren't co-ed, are they?" "Wishful thinking Agent Reyes?" Mulder quipped. Skinner groaned and Doggett rolled his eyes. "Somebody got his joie de vive back," Reyes murmured. Mulder grinned at her, got up, balancing William on his hip. "My kid stinks," he announced. "I'm going to get him cleaned up." "You don't smell like a rose garden yourself, Fox," Starkweather called after him. Mulder calmly flipped her the bird as he practically floated out of the room. And who could really blame him? Reyes turned to look at Starkweather. "Go ahead," Starkweather stood up as well, stretching. "Say it." A beautiful smile crossed Reyes' serene face. "Told you so." As the others began to file out, Carlos stopped Starkweather. "I need to talk to you quick." Doggett shot Starkweather a look. She made a motion with her hands as if to say "Go away." He complied, frowning. What in the hell was going on with her? "Alright, what is it?" Carlos looked very sad. "You might want to sit down." "Oh boy," Starkweather sunk back down on her bunk. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" "The genetics test came back." "And?" "The DNA was a match on all three. I'm sorry, Jerilyn," he said helplessly as Starkweather buried her face in her hands. She shook her head. "It's not your fault," she muttered. "There's... something else..." he said hesitantly. "What more could there be?" she moaned. "It's more of a... proposal..." She lifted her head, glaring at him. "It's not like the kind of proposal you gave me last time, is it?" she asked tartly.
August 20, 1996 Carlos had officially given up on tracking down who the intruders were. He could tell his neighbors had been intimidated into saying nothing. The police were starting to treat him like the local lunatic that called in on a weekly basis to say he saw a UFO. And the military police could offer no help because it happened off-base. But it wasn't as if he could just forget about what happened either. He stepped up security at his place. He carried a small Beretta handgun on an ankle holster at all times now. He wished he could get Jerilyn to take extra precautions but she dismissed him, accused him of being overbearing. "I'm a medic, not a soldier," she had told him tartly the first and last time he suggested she get a concealed weapons permit. "Unless I make a sudden career-change, I'm not going to start carrying a gun. I don't think people who aren't in law-enforcement should carry guns and I'm not going to make myself a hypocrite just because you're scared." "Aren't you afraid?" Carlos had asked incredulously. She had glared at him from over one of her huge medical text books. "There's afraid and there's smart-afraid. Just because I'm scared doesn't mean I'm going to start acting stupid. Just because I'm afraid of being hit by a bus doesn't mean I'm going to stop crossing the street. Now, buzz off," she said irritably. "I have a huge test tomorrow and if I don't pass, everything I've worked for all these years goes to shit." And Carlos found he really couldn't argue with that. And he had to admit, it wasn't as if she wasn't being vigilant. Plus, to his relief, she did sign up for a self-defense class at a YWCA near her apartment. And she did ask him to come over to her apartment and install two new locks, a dead bolt and a chain link lock on her door. So she wasn't being COMPLETELY stubborn. Carlos yawned. He loved these lazy days off. No work, no studying, just the two of them, hanging out. He stretched and rolled over, poking at the woman next to him. "Wha'..." she complained, pulling the covers up to her chin. "Morning, sunshine." "I hate morning people," she grumped but she rolled over to face him. He pushed her long hair, shiny and brown, out of her face. "We have to talk." "Those are the four most deadly words in the world." She really did look nervous. "They don't have to be." "What's on your mind?" He picked her hand up and held it, massaging her knuckles with her thumb. "Well... us." "Oh...kay..." she said hesitantly. "See..." he faltered. "Well... Jerilyn, I..." "Lux, is something wrong?" "No! Nothing is wrong? That's the problem..." "Okay, um... I am an above-intelligent female... but I didn't get that." "Jerilyn, your orders are up in October. Have you thought about what you're going to do? Are you going to re-enlist?" "I honestly don't know," she admitted. "There are pros and cons if I do or if I don't." "And that's the problem." "My indecision?" "Yes... look, the last thing I want to do is pressure you, okay? But here's the thing... I am career Air Force. The only way I'm going to get out is in a body bag. My goal is to become a general. But... the more and more time I spend with you... the more and more impossible it is for me to imagine my life without you... and I don't know what to do when your time with the Air Force is up. If you re-enlist, they could re-station you somewhere else. If you don't, well... it's not fair for me to ask you to follow me when you trying to pursue your own dreams. You've worked so hard to get this far. But..." he trailed off, the unspoken hanging in the air like stale cigarette smoke. After an awkward silence, Jerilyn prodded him. "But what?" "But..." he started again and stopped again. "Are you trying to ask me to marry you?" she said bluntly. "No!" he said too quickly. "Oh," Jerilyn now felt stupid. She felt her face re-arrange itself into its doll-like mask of indifference and innocence. To hide her embarrassment and disappointment. "It's not that I don't-" "I know," she cut him off, her voice calm and aloof, almost a monotone. "It's just not the right time to discuss a commitment as large as marriage. I misunderstood, that's all." "You don't have to make it sound so cold," he said petulantly. "So business like." Now Jerilyn saw a little red. "Marriage is a business," she snapped at him. "It isn't all love and romance and picket fences and kids and puppies and roses. My parents had a great marriage, but it was never easy. My mother said to me once 'It's hard work being married' and I never forgot that. If you aren't asking me to get married, that's fine, because in all honesty," she lied a little "I'm not ready to change my last name yet. I'm just confused as to what you are asking me." She threw the covers off, reached down for the lacy negligee that had been slid off of her the night before. Upon finding it, she jerked it over her body. She then turned around, crossed her arms and stared him down. "So, what is it? What are you trying to tell me?" Carlos silently applauded her for managing to be totally serious and completely intimidating standing there in a clingy nightgown. She stood in a pose her future husband would jokingly refer to as her "big bad FBI stance." Absolutely still, arms crossed, mouth turned down in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits. And he realized way she was so irate. This woman may have been with many men in her lifetime, but until him, she had never been in love before. Which made her very dangerous. And extremely vulnerable. And Jerilyn was just one of those people who would rather yell than cry. <<If I hurt her>> he thought. <<She will leave in a blink of an eye.>> "What I'm asking," he said carefully. "Is to bear with me. To let me take baby-steps. To wait for me to be ready. You're right. This isn't some little thing we're talking about. This is our lives. I am just afraid," he finally admitted. "With both of us being in the service, that something is going to happen, like one or both of us being transferred and everything is going to get fucked up." "You mean..." she said slowly. "If the time comes that we may have to contemplate a long-distance kind of thing." "Yes... that's why I wanted to know if you've been thinking about what's going to happen in October when your orders are up. Are you going to stay or are you going to go." "Lux," she said helplessly. "I don't know... I... I have to think about it... about what I want and how it's going to affect us." "I don't want you to hold yourself back because of me." She smiled at him sadly, "Hate to burst your bubble," she said as gently as she could, "but I wasn't planning on it."
The next day... The Admiral Jeremy Bailey, USN, retired, hated coming to this place for meetings. Hated little square governmental buildings in the middle of nowhere. And he hated the play on words the cute little nickname someone dreamed up for the non-descript complex just off of the Arizona highways. Pluto's Playground indeed. <<Sure as hell wasn't named for Mickey damned Mouse's dog>> he thought bitterly as he sat down at the conference table, waiting for the others. <<Or the planet Pluto even.>> <<And speaking of the Lord of the Underworld>> the Admiral thought grimly as the Cancer Man waltzed in, followed by that little bitch, his protégé, Bravo, that soulless bastard, Knowle Rohrer and a tall, handsome black man with salt-and-peppered hair that the Admiral didn't know. "Well?" "We found your daughter's champion, Jeremy, my old friend," the Cancer Man said, sitting down. He glared at the other members of the party before lighting up a cigarette. "Against my better judgment." "Why? Who?" the Admiral was bewildered. "His name is Lux Rico Carlos, date of birth, November 22, 1968," Rohrer pushed a thick manila folder towards the Admiral. "Poor kid from a single-parent-home in Detroit, desperate for a better life so he joins the Air Force. His work in Special Ops and Security Forces speaks for themselves. Plus, his feelings for your daughter would make him more... passionate about his mission." "I think his passion would be his undoing," the Cancer Man frowned. "Can he protect her?" the Admiral demanded. "That's all I care about." "He'll protect her," the Cancer Man finally muttered after quietly smoking. "He's ambitious," Bravo stated flatly. "To be recruited from the Air Force to CIA is no small thing. He couldn't possibly turn it down. He'll do his job and do it well," she stated unhappily. She agreed with the Cancer Man and thought the choice of Carlos was a huge mistake but said nothing. The Syndicate Council had already approved of the choice. At this time, there was no way to overrule them. <<Of course>> Bravo thought nastily. <<Accidents happen.>> The Admiral hated it when Bravo came to these meetings. He hated it because it frightened him. It frightened him because it reminded him of what this organization was fully capable of. God only knew how Jerilyn may have turned out if she remained in their clutches. And he wished he could trust the Cancer Man, who claimed he was working in Jerilyn's best interest, that the protection of daughter was all part of the double-cross against the Visitors... but he didn't fully trust him. But what could he do? He was in too deep now. Too much time and too much money. Still... "What about this... Fox Mulder? At the FBI? I know his partner, her father and I were friends in the Navy. Wouldn't he make a better choice to protect her than this Carlos fellow?" <<Especially since Mulder is her half-brother and all>> he thought sadly. To everyone's shock and surprise, the Cancer Man exploded. "Fox Mulder will have NOTHING to do with this!" "But just imagine what we could gain if we could get Mulder to join us," Bravo suggested calmly. "It would make things go so much easier." The Cancer Man thought for a bit. "You're right, I will approach him later. Not now. But I do not wish for the paths of Fox Mulder or Jerilyn Bailey to cross. Ever. That would be... disastrous." He stubbed out his cigarette. "Whether or not Mulder would come to work for us or not," Rohrer reminded them, "The X-Files Division itself is still a problem." "What do you suggest?" the Cancer Man turned to Rohrer. "Find a way to get Mulder out of there and get another agent assigned to that office. An agent that doesn't give a rat's ass about aliens and ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night." "Who do you suggest?" "His name is John Doggett. We were in the Marines together. He's a stickler, by-the-books kind of guy. He just joined the FBI two years ago. Before that, he was a cop in New York City. He's a real no-bullshit kind of guy. Bitter too, lost his kid. Lost his wife. Really NOT a happy person. His work is his life. And it shows. He's the current Gumshoe Golden Boy at J. Edgar." "So basically, if we detoured his career to the X-Files, he'd take one look at the "I Want to Believe" poster and scream "Fuck this!" and do everything in his power to get out of there?" Bravo asked. "Essentially. And if that involved closing down the office, oh well," Rohrer shrugged. "The only problem is getting him assigned to the X-Files. The Bureau loves him. They aren't going to "waste" him in the basement office." "An opportunity may arise," the Cancer Man said calmly. "We just need to be patient." He reached for his lighter to light another cigarette. He coughed and rubbed his chest. Concern creased Bravo's face. "Are you alright?" "Fine, fine," he dismissed her worry. "Any word on the whereabouts of Jeremiah Smith?" "Nothing yet," the black man with the glasses said. "We'll find him. Speaking of Mulder..." the Cancer Man glared at him, but X continued. "What about his mother? I understand she is recently had a stroke. Is anything going to be... done about that??" "No," the Cancer Man said shortly. "You may," X said evenly "wish to re-think that. After all, the fiercest enemy is the man who has nothing left to lose." "He'll still have his partner... whatsername..." Rohrer struggled to remember. "Scylla... Scilly... Sully... um..." "Scully and she won't be a problem much longer," the Cancer Man said tartly. "She had the chip removed from her neck." "Ahh..." Rohrer said nodding. Most of this conversation went straight over the Admiral's head. They did this often. Speak of conspiracies but not fill him in on details. That way, he didn't have enough to go to the authorities but still if they happened to be caught, he could still be implicated. For just being there. Whether he was involved or not. He just wished they'd return to the topic of Jerilyn. "I'll take your advice under consideration," Cancer Man told X. "Anything else?" "Just need a timeframe as to when install Captain Carlos into the CIA," X said. The Cancer Man thought for a bit. "Give him a start date of October 1." "Done." X nodded. "I'll handle it." "Gentlemen, nothing more is needed. Thank you for your time." The Cancer Man dismissed them. "Bravo, please stay for a moment." The Admiral paused to look at the young woman with his daughter's face but not her heart and soul. He tried not to shudder as he looked away. His heart was heavy as he walked out, concerned now for the daughter of his old friend, Captain William Scully. *What* chip was removed from the base of her neck? Guiltily, he shoved that thought away from his mind as he walked out of the building. It didn't matter what happened to Dana. Jerilyn mattered. Jerilyn was going to be finally safe now and nothing else mattered. When they were alone, the Cancer Man turned to Bravo. "Watch him," he told her darkly, sliding her a surveillance photo of X speaking to Fox Mulder. "He's up to something." "Done," she said, accepting the photograph and her mission.
September 25, 1996 Captain Lux Rico Carlos' superior signed the last page of the order authorizing the Air Force to release Captain Carlos from Active Duty into the service of the Central Intelligence Agency if the Lieutenant so chooses to. "Anything else?" "No sir, thank you," X said, sweeping the paperwork into his briefcase. "And where might I find the Lieutenant?" "It's five o'clock isn't it? Happy hour? He's probably in the Officer's Club." X nodded, checked his watch and got back up. He hoped he could find Carlos quickly. He had to get back to Washington immediately... had to find Mulder... to warn him... He found him easily enough. As his supervisor said, Carlos, surrounded by some of his friends, was enjoying a few beers at the day's end. Carlos had just opened a pack of cigarettes. X frowned. Carlos turned to a buddy to ask for a lighter when his eyes locked on X's. Recognizing him instantly as the man who carried out the female intruder Jerilyn shot, he mumbled something to his friends and bolted out of his chair. "Whoa, dude," one of his friends exclaimed but Carlos didn't pay attention. He stalked right up to X and said "We meet again. What "test" do you have in store for me THIS time?" "A test of a lifetime, if you choose to accept it." "What, do you have a letter that's going to explode?" "Follow me, Captain," X said crisply, turning on his heel and leaving the bar. Carlos had no choice but to follow. They found a quiet conference room on base. X sat down at the table. However, Carlos elected to stand. "Alright," Carlos checked his watch. "You have five minutes to explain to me, what transpired at my house last June before I call Security Forces to haul your ass away for being on this base without proper authorization." "How would you like to work for the CIA?" X said bluntly. "WHAT???????" "I have little time to explain," X told him. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you. This may also be the only way you can save the life of the Admiral Jeremy Bailey's daughter." "Jeri..." Fear possessed him. "Where is she?" "In class, happy as a clam poking and prodding at a cadaver. Listen to me now," X said insistently, putting his briefcase on the table and opening it. Taking out a thick, sealed manila folder he said. "On the surface you are being offered a position in the CIA to protect the Admiral's daughter due to threats on her life by extreme political factions unhappy with the Admiral and his lovely wife, the Senator Wesley-Bailey's political affiliations. In reality, you are being set up as the fall guy, the patsy. She will be killed, the blame falls on you." X shoved the folder towards Carlos. "It is not a coincidence I recommended you. You've worked in Special Ops, you are aware of the presence, or at least the rumor of a shadow government." Carlos nodded. "I was sent to Whitehead to set up satellite surveillance to monitor the movements of a man suspected of working for this shadow government, although I was under the impression that he was selling government secrets to the enemy." "He is, but not the enemy you dream of." "What does Jerilyn have to do with this? Is it because her father-" "The Admiral honestly has nothing to do with this. Jerilyn is just a part of the puzzle, the deception that they are trying to hide." "I don't follow..." "Jerilyn is an exceptional young woman. In more ways than you know. To accept this assignment, you have the opportunity to clean house, so to speak." "How?" "There are two CIA agents, an Agent Knowle Rohrer and an Agent Shannon McMahon that have no business being in CIA. They have one mission, to gather information on Airman Jerilyn Bailey and then once her data has been retrieved, terminate her." "Term... what... WHY?" "Jerilyn is very special." X nodded at the folder. "That folder explains everything. However, you can not have access to this folder until you agree to join us." "What's the catch?" "You disappear. Without a trace." "I can't do that," Carlos spat at him. "I have responsibilities. To my base-" "This document," X took out another paper from his briefcase. "Releases you from that responsibility. All you have to do is sign this." In disbelief, he stared at his supervisor's signature. "My mother lives in Detroit still. She doesn't make enough money to pay rent and still take care of her elderly mother, my grandmother. She depends on me financially." "Your family will be cared for," X said. "And protected." Finally, he whispered. "I can't leave Jerilyn." "You wouldn't be leaving her." "But-" "Captain, I need an answer now. Are you in or are you out?" "This is not a question that I can answer instantly!" "Captain, do you know what that was that broke into your house last June?" When Carlos didn't answer, X went on. "A genetically altered human being to have no physical flaws. She needs no food, no sleep. She can breathe underwater. She is almost immortal." "What kind of bullshit are you trying to sell me?" "Jerilyn, before she even left the womb, was part of a genetics program similar to the one that woman, Shannon McMahon, by the way, volunteered to be a part of. Before she was even born, Jerilyn's DNA structure to make her something... unearthly." "Are you on crack?" "Didn't you think Agent Rohrer's reaction to Jerilyn's motorcycle accident was odd?" <<Agent Rohrer??>> Finally Carlos caught up with the rest of the class. "Rohrer... Knowle Rohrer the Marine?? He's actually..." "And wasn't it amazing that Jerilyn recovered so quickly from an accident that should have killed her? She was able to go dancing a month later. She should have had broken bones at least." Carlos's mouth went dry as he remembered something Rohrer said the night of the accident. <<We need to check her for injuries.>> <<You won't find any.>> "They want her dead, Carlos," X said flatly. "Of course, you can try and protect her on your own. You might get lucky again." Carlos was shaken but still he had the presence of mind to say "I need to think about it..." X sighed. "I need an answer in twenty-four hours." "How will I reach you?" <<How will you indeed while I'm chasing after Mulder's dumb ass?>> X thought. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a card. "The name and company are false but the number is real. Ask for Satish Joshi. He can take your answer. He will instruct what to do if it's a yes," X now stood up. "Use your cell phone. Your home line had been tapped for months." "How do I know you are telling me the truth?" Carlos demanded. "I will tell you this much," X said, putting the sealed file back in his briefcase and shutting it. "I have no reason to lie. But do this... there an online newsletter run by three hackers called the Lone Gunmen. Most of their stories are based on X-Files." "What's an X-File?" "An X-File is a federal criminal case with basis in paranormal, supernatural or extraterrestrial phenomenon that has been deemed unsolvable by the Senior Staff. It is then dumped into the X-File Division run by Special Agent Fox Mulder and Special Agent Dana Scully." "What does this have to do with Jerilyn?" X glared at him. "I have to trust you with this one, Captain. I don't have a choice. My time is almost up and I need to convince you one way or the other. Mulder is Jerilyn's half-brother. They have been separated since her birth and have no knowledge of the other's existence." Or so X thought, he never knew about Mulder's visit to Lynette Bailey as she was dying and Jerilyn overhearing the entire badgering interview. "Why?" "Because of another sister, Mulder's full sister, Samantha. It's in this website. thelonegunmen.com. All lower case. Read this newsletter. It's surprisingly accurate... which is why no one takes it seriously because it's also absolutely ludicrous." "How will this help me understand?" "Fill the blanks in the cases dealing with aliens and shadow government and superior soldiers with Jerilyn. And you'll have your answers... because you see..." X walked to the door. "I want a CIA version of what Fox Mulder is running in the FBI." X opened the door. "Twenty-three hours and fifty-one minutes, Mr. Carlos."
Carlos drove from the base to Jerilyn's apartment in a daze. On automatic pilot, he heaved himself from his car and dragged himself up the stairs to Jerilyn's door. He knocked. After a moment, she opened the door. She was still in her medical scrubs but barefoot. Apparently she had just gotten home. "Hey!" she said brightly, seeing it was him. "Did you forget your key?" "Yeah," he said lifelessly, following her inside. She began to chatter as she picked up her books, folders and papers that were scattered throughout her apartment. "Oh my God, Lux, I had just the most incredible day. Do you know what I did in class? I got to assist in the autopsy on a man who had lung cancer." She rattled on happily, oblivious to Carlos' silence at first. "It was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I mean, I've SEEN pictures of tumors in the text books. It really did look like a big fluffy marshmallow. And the lungs! Totally black. I mean, what a horrible way to die. But, get this, that's NOT how he died. See, the victim asked for his body to be donated to science so students could learn about the effects of cancer, but when we opened him up, I asked if it was normal for the tissue to be such a cherry red color and of course it isn't. I just didn't want to sound cocky. And the examiner said no, and I suggested possible poisoning, so check it out, Lux, this is just mind-blowing... it WAS poisoning, cyanide poisoning. My instructor put the body under a hood and we could SMELL the poison still... like almonds. It was such a rush, Lux. The body is being shipped over to the morgue at the FBI's Phoenix Office and my teacher asked ME to write up the autopsy case file since I noticed the tissue coloring in the first place. Lux, I think I know what branch of medicine I want to study now... I had thought about surgery, but the science behind forensics is SO fascinating. I wish I could have spent more time, to see if it was possible to determine if it had been a murder or suicide but I guess that's for the feds to determi-" Finally she turned around and noticed his face. "Something wrong?" Just listening to her, so excited about a dead man's rotting lungs, made Carlos feel more depressed. She had her entire life ahead of her. What life could he offer her? Being drug around from base to base, denying her the possibility of perfecting her craft? And she was right, forensics would be right up her alley. Plus, always worrying about the one night when someone bursts through their door... "Lux?" Carlos looked up at her, standing there in her scrubs and pony tailed hair. She stared at him questioningly. "Sorry," he finally said. "I'm... not having a good day." "What happened?" He engulfed her suddenly in a hug, which frightened her a little. "Lux?" she stroked the back of his shaved head. "What's wrong?" She stood on her tiptoes so she could rest her head in the crook between his neck and shoulders. "It's just a bad day," he mumbled again, stroking her long pretty hair. "Nothing more... don't get your panties in a twist." But Jerilyn knew he was lying.
Later that night... X was exhausted, but he had to make a pit stop in Detroit before getting back to Washington. Hopefully he'll make it back to DC before Mulder up and does something incredibly stupid. X walked up an unfamiliar staircase. Thanks to her son's generosity, she was able to live in a nicer part of town. Before knocking on the door, he could hear her arguing with her mother. He almost smiled. She was always arguing good-naturedly with her mother. He knocked. "Just a minute!" A handsome woman in her late forties opened the door. Her cinnamon eyes narrowed and her pouty lips, free of lipstick, frowned. "Well..." she proclaimed caustically. "This is a surprise." "Hello, Yvette," X said simply. "It's been a long time." She nodded curtly, like a queen as she crossed her arms. "It has." "I need to speak to you. It will only take a minute," he promised her. Yvette stuck her head back into the apartment. "Ma? I'll be right back." She shut the door behind her. "Make it quick," she snapped at him. "My mother is sick, she'll need her meds soon." Yvette used to be a registered nurse, but had decided to take a leave of absence to care for her mother, ill with cancer. Thanks to Carlos's bi-weekly checks, she was able to afford to have someone come in and care for her for a few hours in the day while she went back to work part-time. More to get out of the stifling apartment than for the money. "I know you're mother is sick, and I'm sorry," X told her. "But I can help ease the burden." "Nice of you to want to ease the burden NOW," Yvette informed him, no putting a hand on a hip, the bracelets on her wrists jingling. Without spite, without malice. That was not her style. She just told the Truth as it is and that was enough to be deadly. X wished there were more honest people like Yvette in this world. Then he would be finally out of a job. "Lux has decided to come work for me," he told her flatly. She looked down. Stared at her bare feet and her brightly colored toenails. "I see," she said softly. "We're going to increase surveillance around the apartment. In a few weeks, we'll relocate you and your mother. Somewhere safe. Somewhere peaceful. You won't have to worry about anything ever again." She looked up, a cold little smile on her lips. "Except whether or not my son is dead or not," she shook her head. "He's doing the right thing," X told her, confident that Lux would take him up on his offer. "He's not joining on an impulsive whim. It's a matter of national security." "If Lux is joining the CIA, I KNOW it's because it's the right thing to do," she said, holding her head up high again. "I RAISED him to do the right thing," and with that, she turned her back on him and went back inside to the left-over remains of her life. X stared at the door blankly for a moment, then turned around and went back down the stairs to his car. He drove himself to the airport to catch the first flight back to Washington DC.
October 1, 1996 Carlos had lain awake all night. As per Satish Joshi's instructions, he had made a valiant attempt to behave normally. When he had called Joshi to let him know of his decision, Joshi had told him that his mother and grandmother would be moved to a secure location within a few weeks, as to not draw undue attention to them. Until then, their apartment was under heavy CIA surveillance. When Carlos hinted that he wanted to tell Jerilyn what was going on, Joshi bit his head off. So Carlos had sleepwalked through his last four days as a normal man, torturing himself by thinking "This will be the last time I have a drink with the guys at the O Club." "This will be the last time I work on Jerilyn's car to see what that knocking noise is." "This is the last time I'll sit in my office as Captain Lux Carlos." Jerilyn, of course, noticed his dolor. She missed nothing. "You know," she had said seriously over dinner the other night. "You can tell me if something's wrong, you know." "I know," he tried to play her off. "It's just a case of the blahs. Work really sucks right now." She had arched an eyebrow but said nothing. And tonight... tonight wasn't anything special which made it worse. Jerilyn came over. They grilled. They talked. They went swimming. They made love. They talked some more. The sweet ordinariness of it all made Carlos want to scream. But he had seen this Lone Gunmen website. He had even taken it a step further. He had called them, asking for information, which, they happily provided, ecstatic that someone else was crossing over to "the other side" to fight the good fight, although Carlos gave very few details as to why he called. "You're not recording this, are you?" Carlos asked suspiciously. "No, of course not," Langly had lied. But Carlos took it yet one more step further. He had a friend deep in Special Ops get a hold of a few phone numbers at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Who he really wanted to talk to was unavailable, but he did get a hold of his partner. "Scully." "Hi, my name is James West," Carlos had lied to her. "With the Washington Post. I'm looking to do a feature article about your work, Agent Scully and if I could have a few minutes of your time-" "The nature of my work is highly confidential and therefore I am unable to disclose any information to you at this time," Scully had informed him before slamming the phone down on him. "Jerk," Scully had muttered before stalking out of the office. "Bitch," Carlos had muttered into the humming phone. Carlos, of course, had no idea that Mulder had gone missing... again. This time to go with Jeremiah Smith to scope out a farm where several mini-Samantha-clones were drudging away for the Syndicate. Meaning that of course, Scully had to go hunt down his dumb ass... again. But then the file that X had promised him arrived in his office. Carlos read it front to back, committing as much as he could to memory before shredding the entire document. Most of it sounded like science fiction, especially the frequent abductions of Jerilyn's adoptive mother. And yet, so much of it made sense. The eerie resemblance between Jerilyn and Lynette, her supposed "adopted" mother. How dirty the Admiral's hands really were. Lynette's cancer. And Jerilyn's own phenomenal intelligence. <<What would she do if she knew all this?>> Carlos wondered, compounding his misery. Plus Carlos could not shake the image of how deftly Jerilyn wielded his gun when Shannon McMahon broke into his house. She had sworn up and down she had never handled a firearm before that time. Carlos rolled over in his bed to look at Jerilyn. She only looked peaceful when she slept. With the back of his hand, he grazed her cheek with his knuckles, careful not to wake her. She was an incredibly light sleeper. He kissed her brow and carefully slipped out of bed. Even that slight movement woke her. "Where're you goin'?" she mumbled, slightly-awake, mostly-asleep. "Just the bathroom," he told her. "Oh..." she rolled back over. Carlos stood stock still until her breathing was long, deep and regular. He dressed quickly. Jeans, white T-shirt, socks and his favorite Nikes. He looked around his bedroom with a sigh. He had worked hard for his possessions, his house, his life. Was this slight woman really worth the sacrifice? He looked down at her again, curled up in his bed and knew that the answer was yes. It was the right thing to do but would she understand? Carlos hoped she would but, knowing her hot-headedness, realized she probably never would. He had been instructed to take no mementos. <<Fuck them>> he thought as he slipped his wallet in his pocket. In his wallet were 2X3 pictures of his mother, grandmother and an out-dated senior portrait of Jerilyn. "It's all I have," she had said with a shrug when he asked if she had any pictures of herself to give. He took one more look at her, the last time he would see her so intimately, the last time he would see her and be able to claim her as his. He forced himself to leave the room. He walked through the darkened house and out the front door where a black governmental car was waiting for him. X was in the back seat. "You're doing the right thing," X told him. "Nothing else matters." "Yeah..." was all Carlos had to say as the car started up and drove him away from his normal life.
Jerilyn's eyes fluttered opened before the alarm went off. Stretching, she rolled over. It didn't distress her unduly to see that Lux's side of the bed was empty. He often got up and left before she woke up. He liked to go to the gym on base and work out before going into work. So Jerilyn went for a quick run and then came back to take a long shower and get dressed into her Air Force dress blues uniform. It was an inspection day. She wound her hair into a perfect military bun at the very nape of her neck. She frowned, smoothing it back. <<I wonder if blonds really do have more fun?>> she mused as she stabbed the bun with hairpins. Whenever she had voiced her desire to color or cut her hair, Lux would instantly throw a fit. <<I wonder what bug crawled up his ass and died anyway?>> she thought as she grabbed her purse and her backpack and left the house to go to work. At the gates of Luke AFB, she flashed her military ID and zoomed into the base. She parked, then applied a little makeup. Far from satisfied with the effects, she shrugged, threw the powder and lip gloss back into the glove box and got out of her car, not bothering to lock it. Who would steal it? The engine was STILL making that knocking noise... As she walked towards the medical clinic, two lieutenants from Security Forces came out. Jerilyn stopped to salute, as protocol dictated. "Good morning," the younger lieutenant said, returning her salute. "Senior Airman Bailey?" "Yes sir?" "Colonel Binchy wants to see you." "Yes sir," Jerilyn said automatically while thinking <<Oh, shit, what in the hell is THIS about?>> Four star colonels did NOT want to see lowly little airmen unless something was grossly wrong. Colonel Marvin Binchy's Office Colonel Binchy looked at his friend, sitting nervously on the uncomfortable military-issued sofa. "Don't worry Jeremy," the Colonel told the Admiral. "Everything will be alright." The Admiral only nodded. There was a sharp knock. All the men snapped to attention, put their game faces on. "Come," the Colonel said sharply. Escorted by the two lieutenants, Jerilyn entered the room. She looked apprehensive, but not unduly nervous. Her eyes did widen in surprise when she saw her father, dressed in his regulation Naval uniform, sitting on the couch, but other than that, her face gave away no other emotion. The Admiral silently applauded her for her poise. "Airman Bailey," the Colonel said gravely after he gave her leave to be at ease. "Yes sir?" she said politely, not looking the least bit intimidated although she was not only the sole female in the room, but also the sole youth. Everyone else in that room was well over fifty. And everyone on in that room outranked her. Except for a creepy looking civilian in a drab gray suit with gray hair just as drab, chain-smoking like there was no tomorrow. His presence irritated her, but she said nothing. Her focus was on the Colonel. "You are not under arrest so I will not have your rights read, however, you will answer my questions truthfully. Understood, Airman?" the Colonel said in a brisk businesslike. Jerilyn's mouth fell open just a little but she snapped it shut quickly. "Yes sir," she said breathlessly while thinking <<What in the fuck is going on?? And WHY is my father here???>> "How long have you been consorting with Captain Lux R. Carlos?" "Sir?" "Answer the question, Airman." "I... I will sir, except... I don't fully understand the question sir." <<Cocksucker>> she thought vehemently. <<Somebody ratted us out and now the brass is involved. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..." The Colonel sighed, a weary sigh. "How long have you been having sexual relations with Captain Carlos?" "Sir, we have been conducting an adult relationship since July, sir." When the Colonel realized she was not going to elucidate, he asked his next question. "Even though fraternization is discouraged between officers and enlisted?" "Sir, while conducting our relationship under the premise of "Don't ask, don't tell", since I planned on retiring from Active Service when my orders were up at the end of this month, the issue of fraternization was eventually going to become a non-issue." "When did you decide to retire from Active Service, Airman?" <<Right now, you heartless fuck>> "Just recently, sir. I wish to pursue a medical career in the private sector." "Did you and Captain Carlos ever discuss work, Airman Bailey?" "Sir? No sir," Jerilyn said honestly. She elaborated. "We never discussed the nature of our duties. The only time we discussed work is when planning the future." "Future, Airman?" "We had discussed marriage." She didn't tell them that the discussion had ended disastrously. "So, if I understand you correctly, Airman, you and the Lieutenant never discussed your respective duties in the military?" "Yes sir." "You only discussed work to determine what appropriate steps to take in your relationship once you left active service?" "Yes sir." "Did the Lieutenant ever appear... disaffected?" "Disaffected sir? No, sir." "Dissatisfied?" "No sir. He loved his work." "You just told me that he never discussed his work with you." "He never discussed details but he did express he loved his work." "What about you, Airman? Do you feel disaffected?" "Sir??? No, sir!" The anger began to wan, the fear began to wax. "Dissatisfied?" "No sir, not at all." "Are you loyal to the United States of America?" "What?? I mean... yes sir..." she was becoming flustered now. "You would defend her against all enemies? Foreign and domestic?" "Yes sir." The anger was coming back. "When was the last time you've seen Captain Carlos?" The fear chased the anger away again. "Last night, sir," she said in a trembling voice. She could see the path they were leading her down now. <<He wasn't in his bed this morning...>> "Where?" "His house," her voice was a whisper. "And you haven't seen him since?" "I have not seen him since then, sir." "Thank you Airman Bailey. My report will document that you were cooperative and helpful. However, if it is discovered that you were dishonest in any way, you will be placed under arrest. Understood?" "Understood, sir," she said bleakly. "You are granted a two-week administrative leave," he said curtly. "However, I recommend that you stay in this area in case we need to contact you again." Jerilyn nodded, extremely pale now. "Dismissed, Airman," the Colonel said after a long pause. "Thank you sir," she whispered and left the office. The Colonel exhaled greatly and reached for his box of cigars. "That was the shittiest thing I've ever had to do as an officer," he admitted, biting off the tip of the cigar. "It was a matter of national security," The Cancer Man said smoothly. "Yeah, but still... nice girl..." the Colonel said. "Jerilyn will suffer no more repercussions from Carlos's "defection" will she?" the Admiral demanded. "There's not even going to be a report filed again Carlos," the Colonel said to the Admiral. "This was all to just blow smoke up her ass... excuse the language." The Cancer Man exhaled, a stream of smoke leaving his nose and mouth. "Go take care of your daughter now," he said to the Admiral gently. "She'll need her father now." The Admiral got up to find Jerilyn. The Admiral didn't have to go very far to find her. She, in fact, was waiting for him right outside of the building. "Dad," she said, walking up to him as he was walking down the stairs. "Dad, what's going on?" "Jerilyn," he sighed, "you know I can't tell you." "Daddy, please..." she begged him. Side by side they walked to the parking lot. "You got yourself mixed up with the wrong man, Jerilyn," he said, hating himself for lying like this. It was imperative she never seek him out. He had to convince her to hate him. As much as she tried to restrain herself around him, he knew how volatile her temper was. He was no fool. He also knew how well she carried grudges. <<It's for your own good>> he thought as he summoned all the love and trust he knew she held for him and used it against her so she would believe him. "There's been an investigation against Carlos for quite sometime, angel," he said softly. "They believe he's been involved in an illegal arms trade. Selling weapons to the highest bidder." "Oh Dad, no," Jerilyn said insistently. "Carlos wouldn't do that." "Angel, this investigation has been going on for over a year. The FBI and CIA are even involved. They don't suspect you in the least, they think... they think that he got involved with you as a ploy. As a smokescreen. To give the appearance of normalcy." "That's not true." "Jerilyn, whether it's true or not," the Admiral stopped. "He ran away. He left in the middle of the night. He is AWOL. He is in trouble. And there's apparently enough evidence out there to make the military WANT to involve the FBI and CIA. My God, Jeri, you KNOW how much the military HATES outside interference." "Yes..." she said slowly. "We like to handle everything internally." "Jerilyn, he ran away." "I just can't believe that... I mean," her mouth was set resolutely. "What if it was something else? What if he's in trouble?" "What if he's a traitor? Jerilyn, you are getting off very easily-" "Getting off!" she cried out, forgetting herself. "Why should I get off? I didn't do anything wrong! WE didn't do anything wrong!" "Lower your voice right now," he ordered her. "When we get home, you can yell all you want to, but right now, you're an airman, and I'm an officer of the United States Navy and I outrank you. Speak to me respectfully when we are on a military base." "I'm sorry," she muttered. "And as for not doing anything wrong..." they started walking again. "Jerilyn... you had an affair with an **officer**. How could you be so foolish?" "I wasn't lying in there, Dad. I am leaving Active Duty. I want to be a doctor. I want to work in forensic medicine." "And be a military wife? You honestly think you could build a career by following this Carlos fellow from base to base?" "Mom did it," Tears pricked her eyes now. "And she was happy." "But Jeri, she wasn't YOU." The Admiral felt a lump in his throat. Lynette had been gone for years now, and still, his throat tightened and his heart ached at the merest mention of her. "She came from a different generation. Where girls were reared to believe that being a dutiful wife and devoted mother was the pinnacle of their career as a human being. That's not YOU. Do you honestly believe that you would have been happy living a life like that." "Does it matter anymore?" she said wearily. "Honey," the Admiral wished he could hug her and let her cry on his shoulder like when she was a little girl, but that would have been most unseemly on a military base. Instead he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are so much more than you realize. You can be so much more..." He dropped his hand from her. "Please come spend your leave with me in Sedona. It'll be quiet there." She nodded. "Okay. I'll come later tonight." "Maybe you should come now." "I have to get something from my apartment," she said dully. "And let base know where I'll be if they need me." "Okay," he relented. They were at the parking lot now. "Jerilyn, I'm sorry..." he said helplessly. "So I am," she said bitterly, taking her leave of him, walking to her car, wrapping her arms around herself. But Jerilyn didn't go back to her apartment. She drove straight to Carlos' house. She expected it to be surrounded by police cruisers, news reporters and military officials. It was rather anti-climatic that it was not. Jerilyn leapt out of her rusted old car and ran to the house. She fiddled with the keys on her key ring until she found the key that would unlock his front door. "Lux!" she cried out. She paused at the front door, unsure what to do. Her eyes darted around as her mind reeled. <<Come on girl, think... what are we looking for? Clues?>> "Great, I'm Sherlock Holmes now," she mumbled to herself as she walked inside, looking at everything, but touching nothing. <<If I have to call the police and file a missing person's report, I don't want to disturb anything. Everything was neat as a pin. Orderly, as Lux kept things. Jerilyn knelt down, examining the carpet now. She saw her footprints, heading out the door when she left this morning. She also saw his footprints, heading out. There were no other impressions into the carpet to indicate he had come back. "Of course, this doesn't mean anything," Jerilyn told herself. She could have easily walked over his return footprints this morning as she was bolting out the door. The kitchen, the bathroom, all untouched. She went into the bedroom. The bed was still rumpled. She ran out of time this morning and so didn't make it. She eyed the closet and all of his clothes were still there. She fished her handkerchief out of her pocket and used it to open the nightstand's little drawer. Carlos' Glock handgun was still there. She looked around the room. No keepsakes had been taken. "You're not going to find him," a familiar voice announced. Jerilyn jumped, grabbed the gun and pointed at the source of the voice. "Who are you?" X stared dispassionately at the gun. "He's gone, Airman Bailey." "Where did he go?" She took the safety off. "Away." "I don't have the patience for games," she said, taking a step closer to him. "They are accusing Lux for treason. That's punishable by death in the military. If you can help me, help him, then HELP me, otherwise, get the fuck out." "I have a message for you, Airman Bailey." "From Lux?" "No. About Lux." "Goody joy," she spat at him. "What is it?" "Don't look for him. If he wants to, he'll find you." "He is AWOL. They are hunting him down as a traitor, don't you get it? If we don't clear this right now, they are going to execute him!" "I knew the smokescreen in Colonel Binchy's office had been a mistake," X sighed. "I knew that would only fuel your fire instead of quenching it." "What?" "Carlos accepted a dangerous undercover assignment. What happened this morning was a ruse, to throw potential threats off the track." "An undercover assignment?" Relief flooded through her. "That's all? I was scared shitless because of an assignment?" She lowered her gun. "Why didn't he tell me? When will he come back?" "He didn't tell you because he couldn't tell you." "Of course," Jerilyn muttered. "That was stupid. Sorry, I'm not thinking clearly. But... when will his assignment end? When will he be coming back?" "He's never coming back, Miss Bailey." Jerilyn suddenly felt shivery and sick. Tears sprang to her eyes. "But... how could they make him take such a mission?" "They didn't make him. He chose this." Jerilyn felt her lower lip trembled so she folded her mouth together tight. <<I will not cry like a loser little girl in front of this guy>> she told herself sternly. She inhaled a few times through her nose but her voice still shook and her eyes still overflowed when she asked. "What is so important that he threw his life away to pursue?" X stood there, silent. "Can... can he not get in touch with me at all?" she asked. "Can't I talk to him? Send him a letter? Something? Can't I even just say goodbye? Or... anything?" her voice cracked. Her legs felt weak. She sat down on the bed. "No." She looked up at the ceiling, taking gasping breaths, trying to pull herself together, to keep her pride intact in front of this stranger. "I see..." She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "You can't really give me any answers, can you?" "No." "How do I even know that this shit you're telling me is the truth?" "You can't." "Great... that's just fucking great..." she sniffled. Then she raised her head and glared at him. "Then why are you even here? If you can't give me answers and can't even verify that you're telling the truth?" "To give you closure," X said. "To tell you to go on with your life. To not wait for Carlos. He's not waiting for you." He turned to leave, but then paused, looking back at her. "You handle that weapon very well. And you are an exceptionally intelligent woman. Have you ever considered a career in law enforcement? The FBI, perhaps? X left the room. Jerilyn put the gun back into the drawer and shut it. Alone, in Lux's bedroom, she put her hand to her face and started to sob. Two days later, the University of Iowa sent Jerilyn a letter of acceptance into the Spring Semester of their medical program. She immediately drove out to base and put in her request to be released from Active Duty to Guard Duty and to be transferred to the 132nd Fighter Wing in Des Moines, Iowa, effective immediately. The request was granted, quickly without the usual military red tape. That same day, October 3, 1996, Bravo reported back to the Cancer Man and an individual only known as "The Elder" that X was indeed a traitor to the Syndicate. That he had been feeding Special Agent Fox Mulder information for years. On October 4, 1996, Lux Carlos, at the end of his third day of intensive CIA training, received a disturbing message. His father had been gunned down in the doorway of Special Agent Fox Mulder's apartment. In his own blood, he had written the letters "SRSG" on Mulder's floor. Mulder was already investigating the cryptic final message. "I'm sorry," his trainer, Agent Satish Joshi, told him. "So I am," Carlos said faintly. "So am I." January 4, 2002 "There is so much unsaid between us," Carlos said slowly. Starkweather snorted. "No shit," she muttered, looking at her hands. She shook herself. "So, what's this proposal?" Carlos smiled. Typical. Hide the pain behind the work. "It is extremely dangerous, Jerilyn." She flashed him a look that clearly said "So?" "The Cancer Man has fled like the chickenshit he is," Carlos said. "We are looking to pinpoint his location right now. Sources say he's heading towards Europe. Whether that means England or France or Spain or Germany..." Carlos trailed off. "And?" Starkweather asked. "We just received an executive order to terminate the Cancer Man once his location has been disclosed." "Is that constitutional?" "It is under an Act of War." "But the United States is at war with Al Quaida and the Taliban. Not the Cancer Man." "The United States is at war with terrorism and that is exactly what the Cancer Man is. That's all he is. A dictionary definition of a terrorist. A person who uses violence and intimidation to gain one's political objectives." "We cannot kill a man without bringing him to trial." "You really think we'd get a conviction for him? On what evidence. Come on Bailey-girl. You work on the X-Files, you know how hard evidence is to come by." "The evidence is out there. It's out in those transports with Agent Scully and as soon as we get them back we'll have the evidence-" Carlos shook his head. "It wouldn't work." "Why not?" "Think about it. The testimony of battered women and little girls? The women abducted all have psych records the size of Texas. It wouldn't fly. And Agent Scully, hate to say this, but her credibility has gone down the crapper ever since she had that baby. Lots of important people think that Scully's mind is not her own now ever since she gave birth to Mulder's love child." "That's so tacky." "That's the truth." "Agent Scully is swayed by nobody. Including by Mulder." "**I** know that. Look, that's not the point. The point is..." he sighed. "The point is the mission the CIA wants you to complete." "Me? I'm a fed." "But you are the mirror image of that bitch Bravo." "What..." Starkweather started to ask, but then she bolted up. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. Forget it." "Jerilyn-" "I'm not an assassin, Lux. I'm a federal agent." "If you are TDY'ed over to the CIA, then you will have free operating license." "And if I get caught, the United States of America will never have heard of me, right?" "Yes..." Carlos said haltingly. "Yeah, that sounds like a brilliant idea. Thanks, but no. I'll pass." "Jerilyn... you're the only one who can take this son-of-bitch out." Starkweather shook her head. "I can't... I won't." "Jerilyn, I hate to point this out. But this guy was responsible for your mother's abductions." "She was NOT an alien abductee. I have yet to see proof of extraterrestrial existence. All I've seen if evidence of a genetics experiment gone bad." "What about Ben?" Carlos asked softly. Her face became hard, mutinous. "What ABOUT Ben?" she snapped back. He took a step closer to her. "I was at your wedding, Jerilyn," he whispered to her. She shook her head. "No you weren't... I... I would have seen you." "You wore a white, off the shoulder, princess style dress and you had a wreath of roses in your hair instead of a veil," Carlos told her. "Ben had a black tux with tails. Your wedding colors were emerald green, pink and cream. Your friends Katie Flyer, Kate Queen and Shannon Arwin were your bridesmaids and Martina Fox was your maid of honor. And the first song you danced with Ben as Mrs. Starkweather was by Metallica called 'Nothing Else Matters.' I watched you dance with him," he took another step closer to her. "And you looked so happy." As Starkweather closed her eyes and tried not to cry, Carlos put his hand on her cheek. "You looked so beautiful." He was whispering now, feeling her tears spilling over onto his hand. "And they took that away from you, Bailey-girl. **He** took that away from you." "Ben and I were getting a divorce," she whispered. "He cheated on me." "With a woman with ties to the Syndicate," he was stroking her face now. "Who went in specifically to break up your marriage so you would be distracted from your work in the X-Files." "I can't..." she backed away from him. "I can't kill somebody in pre-meditated cold blood." Carlos went in for the kill. "They murdered your baby with no problem," he said sadly. "Before it even drew breath. How old would have that child been now? Two?" Starkweather looked up at the ceiling. "It's not that I don't want him to pay for what he did..." She turned his back to him. Carlos walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her. He rested his face against her soft neck. "Bailey-girl, in all honesty, I don't want you to do this," he whispered. "It would be a suicide mission. But I was told by the CIA to try and convince you. To at least offer it to you. We have clearance to take this fucker out. Whether or not you want to be a part of that, is up to you." He hugged her tighter. "But to be perfectly honest, everything depends on you now. Maybe it's time for you to come into your inheritance." He let her go to be alone with her thoughts. Personally, he hoped she would say no. Professionally, he knew she had to say yes. Meanwhile... "It's settled then?" Bravo demanded, arching an eyebrow. Rohrer closed out his email. "It's settled. The location has been determined. Have you heard from the old man yet?" She shook her head. "No, but he'll be in contact," she said crisply. "How long will it take for you to be ready?" "We'll be ready to leave in an hour." Bravo nodded again. "Where's Crane?" "Sleeping. Said he was sick." "Dammit, we can't afford for him to be sick. Wake him," she spat at Rohrer. "I'm going to change." She stalked out of the room. Rohrer glared at her. He would love to snap her neck someday. He shrugged. Bravo was not invincible. Someday, someone was going to have the extreme pleasure of killing her. He hoped it would be him. But he was patient. He could wait. After all, she was not as protected as she thought she was. She was still part of the Eden Project. She was still evidence. Evidence that needed to be destroyed eventually. But right now, she was fairly useful.
Later... "Mulder!" Mulder turned around, saw Starkweather running down the hall after him. He waited patiently, balancing William on his hip. "What is it?" he asked, brow wrinkling in concern. "I need that ballistics report that you had the CIA handle," she demanded brusquely. Mulder's eyebrows rose at her harsh tone. "Sorry," he said tartly. "I've had other things occupying my time, Your Highness." "Mulder, please," she begged him. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Mulder regarded her for a second, thoughtfully as William gurgled and babbled. Starkweather had showered and changed like the others. A kind female CIA agent had loaned both Reyes and Starkweather clothes, but the loaner was beefier and taller than Starkweather so her outfit hung on her slight frame loosely. She looked like a starving waif with her baggy clothes and her pale face. Her hair was pulled back into its usual tight bun, making her face appear even more drawn. "Okay," he finally said. "This way," he made an about face and started to walk down the hallway, until they found a computer lounge. Mulder pulled out a chair, sat down and handed William to Starkweather. William chortled excitedly and started to pull on her pendant of St. Christopher the Traveler. "Arrgghh, Boo, no," Starkweather gagged as she tried to get her little half-nephew to let go of her necklace as Mulder accessed his email account. Mulder ran his fingers through his spiky brown hair. Like Reyes and Starkweather, a CIA agent took pity on them and loaned not only himself, but also Skinner and Doggett fresh clothes. However, since the three of them were so tall, they elected to keep their same pants from yesterday and take the t-shirts, socks and underwear, although Mulder had to quip "I'm going to need a much larger pair." Nobody had appreciated his humor. Doggett succinctly told him to "shut the hell up, nobody gives a shit," while Skinner just rolled his eyes. Mulder was just happy that the borrowed t-shirt he was wearing was gray. "Okay, here we go," he said as the attachment from the CIA finished downloading. When the window popped up asking "Do you wish to find this file now?", Mulder looked up at Starkweather. "Is this confidential?" he asked gently. She half-smiled at him. "Yes, but I trust you. Open it." Mulder clicked on "Yes." Starkweather handed William back to him and stood behind him, arms crossed. Together, they read the report from the CIA. "A positive match," Mulder muttered, feeling a chill seeping into the room. He turned around to speak to Starkweather. She had left the room. Frowning deeply now, Mulder forwarded the report to Starkweather's home email then logged off. "What crawled up Auntie Jeri's butt and died?" he asked his small son. "Butt!" William said proudly. <<Oh great, we're in the mimicking phase now>> Mulder groaned. <<Good thing I didn't say ass.>> "Your mother will so proud of you," he deadpanned to the giggly boy. "Butt!" "Okay, William, that's enough." "Butt!" "So Mulder, how was William while I was away? Oh, just dandy, Scully, he learned a new word," Mulder said to the walls as he walked out of the computer room to look for Starkweather. He poked his head back into the dorm room. Seeing Reyes sitting on her cots, scribbling in what looked like a journal, he asked casually, "Hey, Monica, have you seen Jerilyn?" "No," Reyes shook her head. "I haven't." "Okay, let me know if you see her." "Alright," Reyes smiled at him, nodding. "Sure, no problem." "Thanks," he patted the doorframe idly, like Lundberg in the movie "Office Space" and walked out the door. Two minutes later, Doggett walked in. "Have you seen Starkweather?" "You're the second person to ask me that," Reyes said, closing her notebook. "I'm beginning to worry." "Oh nothing's wrong... well... okay, a shitload of stuff's WRONG, but nothin' new is wrong. I'm just looking for her, is all," Doggett finished lamely, sitting down next to Reyes. She smiled. That was Monica for you. She could always produce a smile, even under the direst of circumstances. "Nothing wrong with that," she said gently. "I know..." "You act like it," she nudged him. Doggett stayed very quiet. "John," Reyes sighed, choosing her words carefully. "I would... hate... to think that..." she licked her upper lip, still searching for a delicate way to broach the subject. "You feel... you can't confide in me anymore." Gruffly, he responded, "I just don't wanna hurt your feelings." Softly she told him. "That was a long time ago, John. I'm not going lie and tell you that I don't wish that it would have worked..." Reyes now stared hard at the notebook she had been so busy writing in. "But the rewards I reap from being your friend are far greater than... what might have been," she was blushing a little. He relaxed, a little. "Still writing?" he nodded towards her journal. She nodded. "I've neglected it for a while. But after reading Lynette Bailey's journal... John, Jerilyn's passion was not borne out of a vacuum. Lynette's writings are publishable material." "Would it be published as autobiographical or sci-fi?" he quipped. She chided him, "Be nice." "So, you still writin' that artsy-fartsy stuff that I couldn't understand even with a secret decoder ring?" It felt good to him, to unwind a little. It was always so easy to talk to Monica. There were no mysteries to this girl. She squirmed, self-conscious now. "Yes..." she admitted. "Still writing bad poetry." "I liked the stuff you used to show me," Doggett told her. "'Course, I didn't understand most of it, but it sounded real pretty," he made the Southern side of his strange hybrid accent overpower the New York side for comic effect. "You're not quite the simple redneck you'd like people to think you are," she arched an eyebrow. "I think you understand a lot more than you let on, John Doggett." He snorted. "I'm really not that complicated, Monica. Christ, I'm a fricken stereotype when you boil down to it. Just a street cop." He laughed hollowly. "And Skinner wants ME to be AD when he steps down." "Isn't that what you wanted?" "Well... Yeah... before... all this. Before the X-Files and Mul-duh and Scully... and..." he trailed off. "Now I don't know. It seems wrong to accept and wrong to decline. No matter which way I go, it's the wrong way. Sorry," he said lightly. "I'm whining." "You're not a whiner," Reyes assured him. "Want my two cents or are you just venting?" "Hell, give me ten cents if you wanna." Again, the calming smile. "I think you like things to be cut-and-dried, which is why the X-Files infuriates you. Why all things unknown to you infuriate you. That's why you work so doggedly, excuse the obviously bad pun-" "I'll let you live this time," he joked. "-to solve all cases thoroughly. Especially X-File cases. To lay all questions to rest. So you can connect things from A to B to C." "So why..." he gave her a self-depreciating grin, "am I falling for the most complicated, infuriating woman in the known universe?" "Because at first she was unattainable," Reyes said firmly, like a stern schoolteacher. "You can't get hurt if you admire from a distance. It was safe. It was cut and dried. A - she's married. B - she's your partner. C - she's much younger than you." "She's not that much younger!" Doggett protested. "And that was the first barrier to be broken down. Suddenly, twelve years doesn't seem that big of a gap anymore, does it? And it was horrible that Ben was killed, nobody wished for that to happen. But even if Ben hadn't died, Jerilyn was not going to be married anymore. She filed for divorce the day before he died. And you two have gotten closer during your partnership in the X-Files... suddenly things aren't so clear cut anymore. Are they?" "No," he said quietly. "It's like... Pandora Boxed Twilight," she said dreamily. "Okay, Mon, you officially lost me." "It's something that's gorgeous, wrapped up in a beautiful package that you really want to discover but at the same time, you're afraid of it, afraid of the darkness inside and know that ultimately the beauty of the internal twilight will fade away to pure black." "Huh?" "Maybe you are the simple redneck people think you are," Reyes teased him.
"Lux!" He turned around. He walked towards her. He felt his heart drop to his knees. He knew what her answer was going to be before she even told her. He hated himself for bringing this upon her. He had dedicated the last five years of his life to protecting her. Now he was leading her to the slaughter. "The answer is yes," she said firmly, with no quiver or quaver to her voice. She folded her arms and stood tall. Gone was the shaking, frightened woman who had demanded Mulder to check his email. She was all business now. The big, bad FBI broad, as her deceased husband liked to call her. "Are you sure," his dark eyes probed hers, looking for any doubt. "Bailey-girl, are you very, very sure? There is no turning back with this." She nodded, "I know." Carlos looked at her suspiciously. Something was cooking in that big brain of hers, but he had no idea what. She had her poker face on and it was IMPOSSIBLE to determine what in the hell was going on behind those catty eyes once the mask was in place. But Carlos knew her well enough to know the woman had something up her sleeve. He had a sinking feeling she would be working on her own agenda instead of the CIA's. "Okay... the minute we complete this mission, you haul ass back to Phoenix and get on the first plane to DC. Go straight to CIA HQ. They'll instruct you further." "Any word from Alpha?" "No not yet," Carlos started to say, then he caught himself. "How did you know?? Did Mulder-" "Mulder didn't tell me anything," she said, turning to walk away. "I just knew," she finished to herself darkly as she began another mission. Fortunately it didn't take her as long to find Mulder as it did Carlos. "Mulder!" she hollered, jogging towards him. He didn't hear her so she called out his hated given name. "Fox, dammit, wait!" "There you are," he paused for her again. "And don't call me that." "Butt!" William chirped. Starkweather stared at William, then closed her eyes. "I don't even want to know." "Watch your mouth around him," Mulder warned her. "He's starting to copycat now." "Groovy," Starkweather muttered, digging into her back pocket. "Listen," she whispered to him. "I need you-" "I already forwarded the ballistics report to your home email, not your AOL address, but the special address the Gunmen set up for all of us that is supposedly 99.5% hack-proof. Or so they say," Mulder reassured her. "Thank you, but I need something else and I need you to trust me absolutely. Trust me as if I was Scully." "It must be serious." He suddenly looked old. "It is," she pulled out her FBI shield and identification. "You need to hold this for me." "Why?" "Everything will be explained in a few days, but Mulder, I NEED you to keep that. Keep it safe. Don't let anyone know you have it. If something happens to me, I need physical evidence that I exist." "What????" Mulder stepped closer to her. "Jerilyn, what in the hell is going on here?" "Hell!" William bubbled out. "Oh dammit," Mulder cussed again. "Dammit." "William, no-no," he futilely admonished his son. Starkweather snickered, "And I'm supposed to watch my mouth?" "I mean it, what is going on? You act like there's a big finger hovering over an Identity Delete Button or something..." "Please, Mulder, please..." she begged him, closing her eyes. "Remember when we first met and you told me that you were trying to help me as per requested by my father? And when I told him that I didn't want your help, you said, quote, 'Not right now, no, but someday, you will ask for my assistance. And despite what you believe, I will be there,' end-quote. Please, Mulder," she was whispering now. "I'm asking you. Please help me. Do this one thing for me. I swear to God, you won't regret it." She held out her FBI identification to him. "Please Fox..." Mulder looked into the eyes that were the mirror image of his own. He remembered Samantha calling out his name... <<FOX!>>... as he was helpless to save her. Silently, he took her proof of existence as a Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and slid it into his back pocket. "Thank you," she said simply. "Where's Doggett?" "I don't kno-" he started to say, but she had already turned around and walked off.
Meanwhile... The lights came on unexpectedly. Bravo, flanked by two replicants marched down the stairs. The Super Soldiers were dressed in full battle regalia. Bravo was in a tight black tank top, baggy olive green cargo pants cinched at her tiny waist and spit-shined combat boots. A holster was slung around her hips which held a chrome plated Sig Sauer, similar to the FBI-issued weapons. Her chestnut hair was plaited neatly into a long braid and her pink lips clenched a fresh cigarette. "UP!" the soldiers, her minions were yelling, "EVERYONE UP!" The little girls began to cry again as the bewildered women got up. Samita, with a small grunt, lifted Felitza up and half-carried her, half-dragged her own of the cell at the Soldiers' request. Scully, mindful of her role of the wounded, pretended to lean on Jeremiah Smith. "It is beginning," he whispered to her, supporting her. "Be strong Agent Scully." She nodded and tried to look pathetically weak as they filed by the glowering Super Soldiers and Bravo. Actually, she didn't have to act very much. The stone Alpha instructed to put in her shoe hurt like hell. She didn't have to work very hard at her limp. She did notice that the Soldiers acted oddly when she passed them by. They both twitched, as if they were having a small seizure. Bravo noticed too, her eyes narrowed. "What's with you two?" she demanded as Scully and Jeremiah went up the stairs. "Dunno," mumbled one of the soldiers. "Felt funny when that fed walked by." Bravo looked up the stairs where all the prisoners were walking up. "Can't be..." she muttered under her breath as she thought <<Rohrer would not have been able to get her if she had magnetite on her>> "Are you alright now?" "Yeah, feel find now." "Find Crane. Tell him we're leaving now." "Yes ma'am." Bravo blew out a puff of smoke. <<Scully, you fucking icy bitch, what do you have up your sleeve>> she frowned as she went upstairs.
Back at the "Bat Cave"... "There you are," Starkweather said, poking her head into the dorm room, seeing Doggett and Reyes sitting next to each other. "Hey," Doggett got up. "I've been looking for you." "Mulder's been looking for you too," Reyes said. "My, aren't I popular," she purred. She seemed to have regained her spirits. And her smart-assed mouth. "Can I borrow him for two minutes?" she asked Reyes, "or are you guys busy?" "No, go ahead," Reyes said with a wave of her hand. Doggett followed her out into the hallway. "Doc, what is it?" Just then Mulder and William approached them. "Jerilyn," he said, annoyed. "What in the hell is going on with you?" "Hell!" William cheerfully announced. Doggett snorted. "Looks like you've got your own mini-recorder there, Mul-duh." "I know, I know," Mulder sighed. Then he turned back to Starkweather. "Doggett, can I talk to Jerilyn for two seco-" Carlos, followed by Skinner and a female CIA agent, interrupted them all. "It's time," he announced. "They're moving the merchandise to Idaho as we speak. This," he introduced the female agent. "Is Agent Cliona Pine. She will be in charge of William." Mulder clutched William for a minute. Then, he kissed the top of his fuzzy head. "See you later slugger," he whispered as he reluctantly handed the child over to Agent Pine's arms. "Oh," she crooned. "Aren't you just a little angel?" "Butt!" William babbled out. "Angel my ass," Starkweather muttered as Pine bore William away. "Kid's part Mulder, is he not?" "Let's go," Carlos said. He ducked his head into the dorm room at yelled at Reyes. "Reyes, come on, it's time," then he stormed down the hall with Skinner and Mulder following. "Doc?" Doggett looked at her questioningly. "Later," she promised him. "I'll tell you later." He nodded and rushed off after the other three. There wasn't time for anything else. Starkweather sighed and poked her head back into the dorm room. "Reyes, come on." "I'm coming," Reyes finished lacing up her boots. "I made the mistake of taking my shoes off." With a swift jerk, she finished tying her hiking boots. "Well," she said as she fell in step with Starkweather, hurrying down the hall after the others. "This is it. The truth we've been waiting for." "Nous savons également cruel la vérité est souvent et nous nous demandons si le delusion est non plus ne consolant pas," Starkweather said with another sigh. Reyes froze. "What was that? What did you say?" Starkweather repeated herself. "But what does it mean?" "'We also know how cruel the truth often is and we wonder whether the delusion is not more comforting.' Henri Poincare." She sighed again. "I did love the delusion," she muttered to herself. Reyes didn't hear her, she was too busy chastising herself. <<Damn you Krycek>> she cursed a ghost. <<Damn you for everything.>>
Fifteen minutes later... The trailer of the massive semi-truck was unbearably hot. The little girls were whining. Scully shuddered, thinking back to her junior high English class, when she first read "The Diary of Anne Frank." The Nazis had transported the Jews like cattle. <<Don't get so pious>> she chastised herself as she took her boot off to take out that damn rock Alpha gave her. <<The Americans carted Japanese-Americans off to camps as if they were cattle too.>> As she shoved the stone into her pants pocket, she asked Jeremiah. "Is it safe? Can we take care of Felitza now?" "Yes," Jeremiah said, trying to stand up. Which was a difficult task in the hurtling semi. Supporting himself against the steel wall of the semi-trailer, he stumbled over to where Samita was holding onto her half-sister. "Don't worry Mrs. Saint-Claire," Jeremiah said tenderly to the terrified woman. "This will all be over soon." He put his hand over Felitza's face. Samita gasped as the cigarette burns and razor cuts disappeared from Felitza's face and arms. Her eyes fluttered open. "Sam..." she said questioningly, sitting up. "What's going on... oh..." she looked into the face of an unhappy Agent Scully. "Miss Covarrubias," Scully said tartly. "We're going to need your help if we are going to get out of this." "Okay," she said softly. "It's the least I can do... what do you want?" "We have to think of a way to stop this truck," Scully said grimly. "It would make Mulder and everyone else's lives a whole hell of a lot easier if we can slow this caravan down." "Caravan?" Samita said. "I don't understand." "There were three semis waiting outside. One they put us in, the other they put a highly toxic substance called Purity in the other," she railed at the CIA's miscalculation. They had been positive that the victims and the Black Oil were going to be in the same transportation vehicle. This complicated matters. "And the other is a decoy. We're padlocked from the outside." Scully looked around in the dimness of the trailer. She thought about the cattle and pigs being hauled to factories in trailers just like this so they can be converted into steaks and bacon. <<I think I'll become a vegetarian after this...>> she thought with a shudder while saying. "I just can't think of a way to slow this thing down so that the others can catch up." <<Dammit, Dana, think!>> "There's got to be a way," she murmured aloud. Samita looked down at Scully's shoes. "How do you walk in those things?" she asked her, admiring the high-heeled black boots that Scully loved to wear. "Practice," Scully grumbled. "Lots of practice." "Do you think," Samita said slowly, "that you could maybe learn to walk without them? For one day?" "I don't follow..." "If you break off the heels, you can use them as torpedoes to throw at the tires. Semi-truck tires are very thick, but I noticed that on this truck that they are balding. We might have a chance." "But how would I throw them?" Scully asked. "Through the air slots?" "No..." Now Samita was staring at Scully's cross necklace. "If you look down at the floor, you'll see that the metal plates can be unscrewed and there'd be nothing but highway below. Your necklace would probably work as a screwdriver." "She's the smart one in the family," Felitza beamed. "No kidding," Scully mumbled, crouching down to unzip her boots again. <<I love these boots>> her fashion sense whined as her FBI-horse sense pounded the boots on the floor until the heels snapped off. "Don't sacrifice your necklace, Agent Scully," Jeremiah told her. "I have," he dug in his pocket. "Ah. Yes. I have a quarter." He held up the shiny coin. "This will work as well." "Okay," Scully said grimly. "Let's get to work." <<I never thought when I became a federal agent that I would have to be MacGyver>> she thought as she watched Jeremiah Smith start to unloosen the screws in the floor.
Meanwhile... Bravo sat in the passenger seat next to Rohrer, chain-smoking like crazy. "Relax," Rohrer grumbled. "I can't," she snapped. "Something doesn't feel right." "Is there "a tremor in the Force"?" he teased her without much mirth. She glared at him, "Something like that," she snapped. "You worried about Starkweather?" he asked her in all seriousness. She laughed in his face. "*Starkweather*?" she said scathingly. "Please. She's a loud-mouth with a hot temper that's going to get herself killed. Quite possibly in the near future. I am HARDLY worried about little Mrs. Agent Starkweather." "Then what the hell is your problem?" "My problem is everyone's problem," she said bitterly. "Mulder." "Mulder is a nothing," Rohrer scoffed. "Mulder is EVERYTHING," she retorted. "It always comes back to Mulder." "You don't believe that damn prophesy do you?" Rohrer asked her in disbelief. "The one Zeke Josepho kept raving about until the Elders kicked him out of the Syndicate?" "About you and the other replicants being "the true sons of God"?" she arched an eyebrow. "Not likely," she said cattily. "Sorry to destroy your illusions of being a demigod." Rohrer kept his eyes on the road. He would have liked to stop the truck and choked her right then and there. Or better yet, not stop the semi at all but grab her by the throat and fling her out the window. He did neither, of course, however he did say. "That's not the prophecy I'm talking about and you know it." "The only think I know," Bravo said darkly as she stared idly into the rear view mirrors, "is that I will feel a hell of a lot better once Mulder is safely dead. And this time, we cremate him..." she squinted at the mirrors again. She sucked in an angry breath and pulled out her handgun. "God dammit all to hell," she swore as she reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a fresh clip. "What?" Rohrer glanced at the mirrors. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the two black Supras gaining speed on them. "We've got company," Bravo loaded her gun, a murderous glint in her cobalt eyes.
There had been a slight change in plans. Starkweather had tossed the keys to Doggett and informed him "You're driving." Skinner was now riding with Mulder in the other Supra and Reyes was on the back of a sleek black Kamikaze Ninja, holding onto Lux Carlos for dear life. Carlos and the FBI X-File agents all had earwigged radio earpieces in place so they could be in constant communication with each other. "I have visual," Mulder said as he stepped on the gas, watching the speedometer climb even higher. He took his hand off the steering wheel for two seconds to place his hand over his heart. He wasn't saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Underneath the heavy bullet-resistance vest that all the agents were wearing, around his neck on a chain, was a vial filled with the Purity antidote. He was trying to feel it for reassurance. "Holy shit, this is really happening, isn't it," Starkweather breathed to Doggett, covering the tiny microphone with her hand. "Hold on to your ass, Doc," Doggett mumbled.
Meanwhile, inside the semi, both Scully and Jeremiah were still trying to unbolt a section of the floor. "This isn't working!" Scully cried out, clenching her cross in her fist. "The bolts are screwed in too tightly." She blew out a breath. Looked up at the faces of the frightened women and terrified children who were depending on her. Samita was very pale. Felitza had scooted up next to her and put her arms around her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sam, that I got you tangled up in this nightmare." "It's not over yet!" Scully cried out. Jeremiah closed his eyes. "You're right..." he said slowly. "It's not over." He sighed. "It will be alright," he told the hostages. "When the truck stops, be prepared to run," he told them authoratively. "Make sure no one is left behind, especially the little ones. Agent Scully," he said urgently to her. "You must be prepared to neutralize the Black Oil." "What is going on???" Scully demanded. Jeremiah's eyes twinkled madly. "Telepathy. We have a friend in the driver's seat who finally communicated back with me," he looked over at Samita. "Not that your idea was a bad one," he assured her. "If we had more time, if the Calvary wasn't here, and were actually going all the way to the lab, we might of gotten the floor up. Although, it is a shame about Agent Scully's boots." Scully's heart lurched. <<Mulder>> she thought, a schoolgirl thrill of nerves and heartache rippled through her stern demeanor. <<He's here.>> Alpha, tuned into Scully's thoughts, rolled her eyes. <<Puke>> she thought, disguised as Agent Crane, driving the semi with the victims. When she saw the two Supras fly past them, she started to pull the semi over to the side of the road. "What in the hell is Crane doing???" Rohrer yelped. Finally Bravo put the pieces of the puzzle together. "That's not Crane. God DAMN it, it’s Alpha!" Carlos and Reyes watched as one of the semi's pulled over on the side of the road. "Mulder, Skinner, that's the semi with the hostages!" he yelled into the tiny microphone as he and Reyes sped towards the truck, with an ominous CIA Humvee following close behind them. "We're on it," Mulder said grimly, letting Doggett and Starkweather pass them and catch up with Bravo and Rohrer. "Be careful," Carlos yelled, seeing the semi following the hostage semi slowing down as the Humvee passed them by. Reyes clung to him, terrified she was going to fall off the bike. She had done her part and relayed the message to the Phoenix Field Office that she and Agent Doggett would need immediate backup. She felt like the unwanted tag along now, but dammit, she was just as capable of an agent as the others. She was not going to let them down and she was not going to betray them, not matter what Carlos believed. Meanwhile Doggett and Starkweather were neck and neck with Rohrer and Bravo. Before either one of them had a chance to take evasive action, Rohrer serves, trying to run them off the road. Doggett almost lost control of the car. "God..." he gasped. "All that time watching NASCAR finally paid off," Starkweather quipped as she reached for the shotgun that Carlos had so thoughtfully put in the backseat for them. "Get closer, I'm going to try and take out the tires." Doggett creeped closer to the semi again. Starkweather leaned out the window and aimed at the big tires. But Bravo had lunged herself across Rohrer's lap and fired at Starkweather. She pulled herself back inside the car just in time, but she dropped the gun doing so. "I hate her," Starkweather bitched, pulling her Beretta out of her ankle holster. Rohrer, after Bravo got off of his lap, tried to run Doggett off the road again. "I hate **him**," Doggett said through gritted teeth. Just then, Rohrer did a one-eighty right in the middle of the highway. One would think it was a miracle the semi didn't roll itself over, at the high speed it was going. But the true miracle was how Doggett kept his head enough to floor the car and drive straight under the semi's trailer when it was right in the middle of it's massive U-turn. "Holy Christ!" Starkweather gasped as Doggett turned the Supra around and chased after the semi again, spraying sand all over the place. Doggett's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. He blew out a breath as he stepped on the gas, speeding up to the semi that was returning to the stopped semis. "Get on the other side of them," Starkweather said suddenly. "What?" "Just do it!" she insisted, trying to pop the hard top of the Supra off. "Trust me..." Doggett helped her punch the top off of the car. "What in the hell are you gonna do?" he demanded. "Get closer," she yelled back at him. "Are you out of your Got-damned mind????" It was not the first time he had asked her that question. "YES. Get closer!" Doggett was driving on the side of the road. The car jostled with every pothole and giant crack it drove off. They were side by side with Rohrer and Bravo again. Rohrer fired at them again. He missed, but barely. Starkweather fired back at him and caught him in the shoulder. Starkweather fired again, catching him in the head again. Bravo grabbed the steering wheel, trying to keep the big rig going in a straight line. Her hands were very full at the moment. Starkweather shoved her Beretta down the back of her pants. She stood up on her car seat. Doggett grabbed her leg. "What in the hell are you doin'?" She kicked him free. "Gonna find out if I'm really like one of those things or not," she nodded at Rohrer, putting both hands on the roof of the car, pushing herself up. "Doc, don't-" She leaped from the car. Starkweather barely caught hold of the door handle of the speeding truck. Doggett watched helplessly as her feet fly back up into the air as she desperately held onto the door handle. One of her small hands let of the handle and caught hold of the bar supporting one of the massive side view mirrors of the semi. She was able to pull herself into some form of stability, her feet solidly on the floor runner of the truck. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh bad idea," everyone heard her bitching over the radio. And everyone heard Doggett's response. "NO SHIT!!!!!" But everyone was too wrapped up in there own little roles in this grotesque drama. When Alpha-disguised-as-Crane finally stopped the semi, Mulder pulled off the road, into the emergency lane, right beside the truck, leaving black skid marks on the interstate behind him. Alpha, abandoning her guise as the deceased agent-turned-Super-Soldier, hurried out of the truck. "There's no time," she informed both Mulder and Skinner. "They're coming." Mulder squinted into the distance and saw the third semi truck gaining on them, slowing down, preparing to stop. Skinner looked the other way and saw the first semi, cruising back towards them, with Doggett driving on the wrong side of the road. "Mulder..." Mulder turned around. "Oh damn," he muttered, grabbing Alpha and pulling her behind the semi as Skinner joined them just in the nick of time. The first semi sped right past them, cruising down the highway. Doggett was able to hop the curb, drive around the stopped semi and the other car, hop over the curb again and continue to pursue Bravo and Rohrer. "I'm too old for this shit," Mulder grumbled, pulling out his gun. "YOU?!?!?!" Skinner spluttered. "I'm the one retiring in a year." "Hurry," Alpha said, looking nervously at the semi that just stopped behind them. Two Super Soldiers got out. Mulder shot off the lock and together he and Skinner threw open the doors. "Run!" Jeremiah told the women, "Run into the desert, towards the red rocks!" He started pushing them out of the trailer. The little girls were carried by frightened women. Felitza grabbed Samita's hand and together they bolted into the desert. Scully and Jeremiah got out together. Scully shoved her cross necklace in her pocket along with the stone Alpha gave her to put in her shoe. One of the Super Soldiers started to go after the women, but the other one said, "Let them go. They won't get far without water. Besides, the ones we REALLY want are right here," he grinned, ignoring Skinner and Alpha, staring at Mulder and Scully. Mulder pointed his gun in his face. "Back down," he told him quietly. Skinner pulled out his FBI issued weapon. Alpha pulled out two Sig Sauers and tossed one to Scully, who cocked it and pointed it the Soldiers very quickly. The second Super Soldier laughed quietly. "Don't you get it? We're faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound." He pulled out a tranquilizer gun as well did his partner. It was a pity the Syndicate wanted them alive. "I've always preferred Batman over Superman," Mulder said dryly. "Take them down," the second one said to the first. But the first was frozen in his tracks. "I can't," he whispered. Then the second one felt it as well. That weird shaky, queasy feeling whenever... <<One of them has magnetite on 'em>> he telepathed to his partner. "Shit," the first said out loud. "Now what?" Scully advanced on them. The quivery intense sensations running through their bodies increased. "Lay on the ground, hands behind your backs, thumbs in the air." "GET AWAY FROM US YOU BITCH!" the first one shrieked, his hands shaking violently. He dropped his guns, backing away. "She has that effect on men, you know," Mulder quipped to Skinner. "So I've noticed," the stern assistant director mumbled. "RELAX! SHE DOESN'T KNOW! SHE DOESN'T HAVE ENOUGH ON HER TO KILL US!" the second shrieked at the first Soldier. Of course, she did have enough to render them powerless, all of their superiority neutralized. All she would have to do was pull the trigger. "Not if I don't first," he grunted and he pointed his Beretta at Scully's head. Before he could even squeeze off a round, Mulder and Skinner shot him dead in his tracks. Alpha fired two slugs into the first one's throat. "They're dead," Scully said wonderingly. "They're really dead..." "How???" Mulder said. Alpha had raced back into the cab of the semi truck. She came back bearing a small gallon of gasoline and a book of matches. "Burn them," she said frantically. "So the Syndicate can't re-use their genetic material and make clones." "We can not destroy eviden-" Scully started. "Oh for Christ's sake!" Alpha snapped, running to the parked Supra. "You really think this is a federal case? Where have you been, Agent Scully? This is a CIA covert ops mission. Things are run THEIR way, not yours. I'm going into the desert to make sure the victims are alright," she yelled, getting into the car. She sped off. "Mulder," Scully looked up at him. "Do as she says Agent Scully," Jeremiah Smith admonished her gently. "And you will be reunited with your child by nightfall." "Actually," Mulder said quietly. "We have to find those barrels of Purity," he looked down at the bodies. Skinner picked up the gasoline. "We'll take care of this," he said, nodding at Jeremiah. Jeremiah nodded in return. "Yes. We'll handle this." Jeremiah grabbed one body and Skinner the other. Together, they dragged them out into the desert, away from the two semi's with their massive diesel fuel tanks. Skinner splashed gasoline over the bodies. As Mulder and Scully hurried away to investigate the third semi, Jeremiah lit up the book of matches and dropped it on the bodies. Jeremiah hurried Skinner away from the corpses. They exploded as if they were made from sulfur... or another type of flammable metal.
Meanwhile, Starkweather was still hanging on for dear life as the semi sped down the highway. Bravo was still steering for Rohrer was still out of commission. "Rohrer, MOVE," Bravo yelled at the motionless soldier. Rohrer grunted, barely moving as his body healed itself. "Shit," Bravo muttered. She managed to stretch out with her leg and stepped on the brakes. Starkweather about lost her grip the semi came to an unexpected screeching halt. She pulled out her gun. Bravo crawled out the other side. Rohrer was invincible, but she wasn't. And she had no intention of dying. Not today anyway. Starkweather peered inside the van. Rohrer's head was lolling around, his eyes rolled back in his head. Starkweather tentatively reached out to take his pulse. His big hand shot out and gripped her wrist, the one she had jokingly referred to as her "bad wrist." It had been broken last spring, when the Bounty Hunter came after her one morning. She had never experienced a fully broken bone before then. He squeezed. The pressure brought tears to her eyes. "Hello Mrs. Starkweather," Rohrer smiled gruesomely at her. "We've been waiting for you." Starkweather pulled out her gun and pressed the muzzle against his head and fired. Startled, he let go. Starkweather fell to the ground, landing solidly on her ass. Doggett had just pulled up behind the parked semi. Pulling out his gun, he ran around the other side. He heard the gunshot and he saw Starkweather fall. Swiftly, he hurried to her side. "Doc!" he cried, kneeling down to help her up. "You okay?" Her face was speckled with Rohrer's blood. "He's not dead," she shook her wrist. He didn't break it again, but it hurt like hell. "He's not dead..." Carlos and Reyes pulled up beside them. "Where's Rohrer?" "In there," Starkweather pointed up at the semi. "But he's not dead." Carlos pulled out his gun and stalked over to the semi. He looked in. "He's not in there." "He was just there!" Starkweather cried out. "I shot him... where did he go???" The Supra pulled out from behind the semi. Everyone dove for cover as it came flying at them. It missed John Doggett and the motorcycle by inches. "Oh my God," Reyes cried out as Carlos helped her stand up again. "Was that Rohrer?" "I think so," Doggett kicked himself for leaving the keys in the ignition. He dusted himself off. "Where's Bravo?" Carlos demanded. The back doors of the semi were thrown open. Bravo shot out of there on a motorcycle like a Hollywood stunt double, landing solidly on the highway and sailing off. Starkweather's face was mutinous. "Oh no you don't," she snarled, getting to her feet for a second time that day. "Starkweather," Doggett reached for her. "That bitch is mine," she shrugged him off, stalking towards the motorcycle. Before anyone could stop her, she took off, in hot pursuit. "Come on," Carlos said to Doggett. "We don't have much time. We have to load the coke onto the semi so that the feds think this is a drug bust. She'll be fine." He said that to reassure himself as well as Doggett. "And we'll be in constant radio contact." Doggett glared at Carlos. He didn't like this and he didn't like Carlos right now. Not one little bit. "I'm her partner," Doggett said in measured tones to Carlos. "It's my job to watch her back." Carlos met Doggett's cold stare back evenly. "Then watch her back by doing your job," he retorted calmly. Reyes listened to the exchange with a sickened heart. "Come on John," she pleaded with him. "Please..." "Doc," Doggett walked away from them both, towards the semi where Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Jeremiah were. "Doc, come in..." his finger pressed against the tiny ear bud speaker. "I have visual," her voice, tinny over the airwaves, announced in his ear. "I'm taking her out." Doggett closed his eyes. Maybe the Eden Project did create another successful assassin after all. He hoped not. He really hoped not. Starkweather felt herself propelled by sheer hatred of the woman on the motorcycle ahead of her. The woman who she shared a mother with. To her immense surprise, Bravo was slowing down, stopping even. Starkweather reported this astonishing fact over the radio. "She's stopped over a bridge." "Be careful, Jerilyn," Carlos admonished her as he waited along with Jeremiah Smith, Skinner, Reyes and Doggett while Mulder and Scully feverishly worked inside the semi bearing the Purity, adding the anti-viral to the each one of the barrels containing the deadly oily virus. The virus they were immune to. Still, their hands trembled. "How many to go?" Mulder asked, pausing to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. "Five more," Scully said. "Five more." "Hurry the hell up, you two, the cavalry is coming," Carlos called out to Mulder and Scully before turning his attention back to Starkweather. "The bitch is ruthless. She might be setting you up for a trap." "No shit," Starkweather snapped, bringing her motorcycle to a halt, just a few feet away from Bravo. "And here I thought she had stopped to repent for her evil ways and allow me to save her from the Dark Side. Thank you for clarifying, Captain Obvious." She drew her gun. Bravo had gotten off her bike and crossed over to the side of the bridge that spanned across the Grand Canyon. She leaned lazily against the railing as Starkweather approached. Thanks to Starkweather's radio, everyone heard every word of their conversation. "How brave, to point a gun at an unarmed woman." "Bitch, I could point the barrel of a tank in your face and I still wouldn't feel safe." "And what, pray tell, little sister, are you going to do with me?" "I'm first going to ask you very nicely not to EVER call me 'sister' again. The fact that we share a parent makes me physically ill." Starkweather advanced on Bravo slowly. She gripped the butt on her gun tightly, finger on the trigger. It would only take a little more pressure to alert the bullet inside the chamber that it needs to come out and imbed itself into something or someone else. Bravo slowly reached into her pants pocket. "Hands where I can see them," Starkweather ordered her. Bravo withdrew, holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Peace, peace," she drawled. "I'm guessing since you're making the supreme mistake of not blowing me away right now, I'm in for a nice long cozy chat," her sapphire eyes danced merrily. She took out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke towards Starkweather. "I want answers," Starkweather snapped. "You have answers," Bravo retorted. "The questions have been answered. Now you're questioning the answers." "Where is Gibson Praise?" "Away. Next question." "Not good enough," Starkweather took another step towards her. "Where is the kid? Did you hurt him?" Her voice trembled with rage now. "The kid is safe as a church on a Sunday. He's far more valuable alive than dead. We only dispose of what is not useful," she purred. "Is that why you called Scully that day?" Starkweather demanded. "Because Mulder is more useful than alive? Is that why you stopped the assassination attempt last December?" "You're boring me, Agent Starkweather," Bravo said languidly. She flicked her cigarette butt over the edge of the bridge, watching it fall into the abyss. "You hate him, yet you saved his ass," Starkweather hissed. "Both of you. You and this Cancer Man. I don't get it. You're afraid of him." "I am afraid of no one!" Bravo retorted. Starkweather smiled nastily. "No. You're not. You're terrified of him," she purred lowly. "Both of you. All of you. You're scared shitless of him. Of a man who believes in UFO and can't find a tie to match his suit to save his life. I just don't understand that. What the big fat fucking deal is about Fox Mulder." In her ear, she heard Mulder mumble, "That did wonders for my self-esteem." She had forgotten that they could hear her. Bravo had enough. "By the time you get over yourself enough to believe in the Truth," she spat at her. "It'll be too late." Starkweather shrugged. "The way mankind is going, there's going to be nothing left of the world for them to take over." Bravo arched her eyebrows. "So you believe then? In the Visitors?" "Obviously, you need to be enrolled in 'Sarcasm 101.'" "You need to be enrolled in 'Reality Check 101.'" Bravo stood up straight now. "Stand down, Bravo." With a wicked little grin on her face, Bravo told her, "You're not a free woman, Agent Starkweather..." "Stand down." "They'll never let you go." Bravo hopped up on the railing, sitting on top of the narrow metal bar. "Goddamn it, get off of there..." "... never let you have a normal life..." "I'm warning you, you fucking bitch, get down..." "There's not a goddamn thing you can do about it either. Not a fucking thing in the world because you AREN'T one of them. You're one of US." "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law..." "Because of THAT you stand in the way of the ultimate goal, their ultimate desire. And they will have it..." "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you..." "You honestly believe that your sad little Constitution can really crucify me?" "You are NOT above the law." "You don't NEED the law when you're God." "You're crazy," Starkweather said softly. "You're crazier than Charlie ever was." "Gonna shoot me?" Bravo taunted her. "I dare you to. I double dog dare you..." "Take the shot," Carlos ordered her. "Doc, don't..." Doggett begged her. Carlos whipped around. "Stay out of this." Doggett covered up the microphone. "Shove it up your ass, Carlos." Starkweather ignored them both. "Where is Gibson Praise?" she demanded. "Tell me where the kid is and you'll walk free." "GOD DAMN IT JERILYN!!" Carlos yelled into her ear. "DON'T BARGAIN! TAKE THE SHOT!!!" Starkweather winced a little. Bravo smiled. "Being wired always sucks. I've never cared for it." "Where is that damn kid?" "Where is William?" When Starkweather refused to answer, Bravo shrugged. "Tit for tat, Agent Starkweather. You want Gibson. I want William. An even exchange." "Not a chance in hell." Bravo shrugged again. "I offered." "Stay away from that baby, you hear me!!!" Starkweather shrilled at her. "I'll kill you, I swear to God you'll die screaming if you even LOOK at that child wrong!" Bravo laughed. "As fascinating as William is... it's the father I'd rather have. Who we ALL would prefer to have." "Wha... wha..." Starkweather was thunderstruck. "WHY??? What the fuck is the deal with Mulder?????" "It always," Bravo pontificated. "Comes back to Mulder." She leaned over. "No!" Starkweather rushed over but it was too late. Bravo had thrown herself off the bridge. "Doc," Doggett yelled into the tiny microphone clipped to the collar of his shirt. "Doc, come in, what'n the hell is goin' on?" "Jerilyn," Carlos thundered. "Talk to us." "She's dead," Starkweather's voice was tinny over the airwaves. "She jumped off the bridge." "Good riddance," Doggett grumbled. "Do you have visual?" Carlos demanded. "Do you see a body?" Starkweather peered over the edge of the bridge, wary. In many a bad movie, the bad guy's hand had reached out and grabbed the hapless hero and pulled him (or her) into the abyss with them. "I don't see her..." she muttered. "I don't see her at all." "How high is that bridge?" Reyes wondered. "Is it possible for her to have survived?" "Anything is possible," Jeremiah Smith nodded like a wise man. "So it's possible she's just a big grease spot at the bottom of the Grand Canyon," Doggett said in a strangely bitter voice. "Doc," he radioed her. "Come on back now. You did what you could." Starkweather just stood stock still on the bridge. She felt the wind blowing her tangled hair. She looked at her hands. First at her left hand that still bore a wedding ring. Then at her right hand which held a gun. "Doc, come back." As Mulder and Scully leapt out of the semi, their task complete, Carlos radioed Starkweather back. "Jerilyn, you've got to go." He then directed Skinner and Reyes. "Hurry, load the semi up with the drugs." "Where's Jerilyn going?" Reyes asked innocently. A nervous tic suddenly materialized on Doggett's craggy face. "Where is she going, Carlos?" he growled at him. "Reyes, please go help the Assistant Director," Carlos said in a low authorative voice, never breaking his gaze with Doggett. Skinner lightly touched Reyes on the shoulder. "Come on Monica, we've got a job to do." "Our job's to perform a felony?" Doggett challenged Carlos as Reyes and Skinner skittered off to finish the last part of the mission. "Plantin' evidence?" "We've gone over this," Carlos said smoothly as Jeremiah listened impassively as Mulder and Scully joined them. "What's going on?" Scully asked. "An ass-kickin' in a minute," Doggett's teeth were clenched tightly together. "For the record," Mulder said dryly, "I just want to say I didn't do it." "We've gone along with your little CIA game," Doggett took a step closer to Carlos. Scully, afraid Doggett was going to lash out at Carlos took a step forward but Mulder grabbed her by the arm, shaking his head. Doggett continued to berate Carlos. "We ran a covert operation that almost got all of us, includin' a little boy not even a year old, killed. We tracked down two killers... one got away. We ALMOST lost all the hostages, includin' Agent Scully. And we almost lost Agent Starkweather. And now we're plantin' borrowed evidence to make it look like a drug bust instead of what it really was as if we all did this as if we were above the law. So, Mr. Carlos, after goin' against my morals and my beliefs and goin' along with all of that bullshit... could you humor me and tell me why'n the hell you are telling MY partner she's got to go?" Skinner and Reyes had finished putting the cocaine on the semi. They ran to rejoin the circle. Everyone could hear the sirens of the state police and Arizona Bureau of Investigation in the distance. Carlos never batted an eye. "She's TDY with us." Mulder put his hand on his back pocket, where he carried Jerilyn's FBI badge and identification. "Care to elaborate?" Mulder dropped the sarcasm and advanced on Carlos. A very black look clouded his handsome features. A black look that clearly said "What the fuck did you do with my sister?" Carlos crossed his arms. "I do not have the authority to disclose anymore information. It is strictly confidential." Mulder, in an unusual display of temper, grabbed Carlos by the shirt and slammed him into the side of the semi. "God damn you and your double talk," Mulder yelled in his face. "Where is she going? What did you con her into?" "It was her choice," Carlos said silkily. "Just as it was your choice to join us." Scully looked stricken. "Please Carlos," she struggled to sound less emotional and more professional. More FBI. "Tell us where she is." Doggett broke away from the crowd and began talking into the radio again. "Doc, can you hear me? Doc... come in... " Starkweather could hear the pissing contest over her tiny ear radio. Abruptly she tore the tiny transmitter out of her ear and dropped it on the bridge. She walked back to the motorcycle and got on. After putting her gun back in her holster, she sped away without looking back. "Jerilyn... come back..." "Doggett," Carlos sounded very tired now. "Don't bother. She's gone." Doggett thought he detected a note of guilt in the man's voice and mercilessly played on it. "If anything happens to her," he promised him, "it's on your head." "I know that," Carlos pushed Mulder off of him and crossed back over to Doggett. "I know that." "And you said you loved her," Mulder sneered at him, mockingly. "Mulder," Scully placed her hand on his arm. "Enough. There's nothing more that can be done **right now**." Noticing the emphasis on the words "right now", Mulder turned to face his diminutive partner. Her aquamarine eyes blazed with some insight that she was unable to share with him at that time. Later, she would tell him. He would just have to trust her judgment until then. The sounds of the sirens came closer. The female hostages and their small charges were also walking back towards them, having been told by Alpha it was safe to return. Doggett and Mulder saw the petite form of Samita Saint-Claire and swiftly turned their heads. In the distance, she looked too much like the sister she never met. Carlos turned to Mulder and Jeremiah. "We can't be here," he told them sternly. "It is important that the FBI take the credit for this. This is the hour that they shine." "What if I don't wanna go along with this crap anymore?" Doggett crossed his arms, frowning. Carlos snorted. "Oh, you will." Carlos shook his head. "It's just one step closer to the AD's chair if you do." He beckoned Mulder and Jeremiah. "This way," and he started to walk with towards the desert, away from the commotion. "Mul-duh-" Doggett started to say. "Mr. Doggett," Jeremiah Smith said placidly. "You don't have to lie. You are in the very enviable position of controlling the truth." He looked up at Mulder. "What the enemy still doesn't realize that the Space Age that was, never happened. Man does not want to control space but the knowledge that he can go into space if he so desires. This is but the dawning of the Information Age. The less details you give out... the less information the Syndicate has to study to figure out how they failed." He looked at Mulder. "Let's go." As a dumbfounded Doggett watched a bewildered Mulder and an irritatingly calm Jeremiah walk off into the desert, Scully turned back to Doggett and said, "Agent Doggett?" "Agent Scully?" He was equally formal. "The less information that we give out, the more we can protect Agent Starkweather." Scully frowned. "She is reckless at times, but not foolishly so. She would not have embarked on a covert mission for the CIA if it was not vitally important. I believe..." her tiny shoulders slumped. She gave up formality. "John, sometimes you just have to pick the lesser of two evils. And if a whitewash will protect Jerilyn and William... so be it." She shuddered, as if she repulsed herself. "I agree," Reyes said. "Please... everyone... don't get offended by me, but... I have a feeling everything is going to work out." Doggett looked down the road where the police cars and television news vans encroached closer to them. He felt railroaded. He looked at Skinner and wondered if this is how "the Skinman's" fall from grace began. The slightest bending of principal.
Later that day... Carlos had instructed Starkweather to fly directly to Washington DC and report immediately to the CIA once she arrived. Carlos should have known better. Starkweather, after pausing to buy a baseball cap and sunglasses, stopped inside a phone booth. While listening to the time, temperature and weather ad nauseum on the toll phone, she slipped in a small earpiece and discreetly dialed her cell phone, back turned to the world. "The Lone Gunmen." "Langly turn off the tape recorder." "It's off." "God dammit, I am serious, turn that fucking thing off." "What crawled up your ass and died?" Langly whined nasally at her. "My life," she said tonelessly. Hearing the despair in her voice, Langly actually leaned over and turned the recorder off. "You okay?" "I need your help," she said. "I need all three of you guys help." "Name it," Langly said instantly. "Have you been watching the news?" Starkweather peered over her shoulder just enough to peep at one of the many televisions suspended from the ceiling. "Yeah... Byers was watching CNN and they had a live-breakin' story about a semi full of drugs and kidnapped women and kids... hey... is that Dogbert???" Doggett was speaking to the reporters as the FBI and local police were taping off the crime scene. "We received a tip of illegal activities," Doggett said gravely, vaguely. "What was believed to be impossible became reality..." He would not lie. He could not tell the entire truth, he would keep the events confidential, but he would not lie. She did not envy his position. Doggett begged off anymore questions to Assistant Director Skinner who curtly told them that no more questions would be answered at this time due to the sensitive nature of crimes and that a press conference would be held later on after the crime scene was secured and the victims were reunited with their families. "What the hell is goin' on out there?" Langly asked her. "Since when are drugs and white slavery an X-File?" "I can't explain it here, but I can when I come to DC." "Whattaya need." "I need to throw somebody off the trail. I'm supposed to go straight from Phoenix to DC. But I don't want to go straight to DC first." "Where do you wanna go?" "Tacoma Falls." The seriousness of the situation was beginning to sink through to Langly. Doggett, Scully, Reyes and Skinner were on TV, in Arizona. No sign of Mulder. And Starkweather calling from a payphone saying she was in trouble, more or less. "Okay, give me five minutes," Langly slide his chair over to the nearest computer and began typing. "What's your credit card number?" "Excuse me?" "I ain't gonna charge nothing on it," Langly groused at her. "But I need it. I'm gonna create a false electronics trail for you." "Okay..." Starkweather leaned against the glass of the phone booth. She felt billions of eyes staring at her. She knew in reality the people bustling in and out of the airport really didn't care who or what she was. They were too wrapped up in their own lives. Busy being anonymous. <<Must be nice>> she thought. She was anonymous once too. Nobody cared she was a doctor marrying a lawyer. Or so it seemed. "Okay," Langly said. "Here's how it works. When you buy your plane ticket, tell the lady that you want a direct flight from Phoenix to Baltimore. When she scans your card, the ticket that she's gonna print out is gonna say Phoenix to Baltimore, but your credit card transaction is gonna say Phoenix to DC with a big fat layover in the mother of all airports..." "Chicago, O'Hare." "Nobody will think you're lying if you say you got held up there." "Thank you." "I'll come get you at BWI." "Have Byers come," Starkweather said swiftly. "He looks the most... normal out of you three." "Okay," there was the barest trace of a pout in his voice. "See you in a while, Ringo," she hung up her cell and pretended to chat more on the pay phone before going to purchase her ticket. "She called me Ringo..." Langly said dreamily as he cued up Kazaa on his trusty computer. Without any sense of pitch or rhythm, he sang along: "I want a girl with a mind like a diamond I want a girl with bright allocations I want a girl with a short skirt I want a girl who gets up early With fingernails that shine like justice I want a girl with a short skirt I want a girl with the smooth liquidations She wants a car with a cup holder armrest I want a girl with a short skirt
Much later than that... As Starkweather was airborne over the Midwest, her partner and his friend were driving towards the airport. Reyes was driving. She was fiddling with the radio station the entire time, trying to find some uplifting music to lighten the mood. Scully had left earlier then all of them, bound and determine to see her son soon as possible. She had been almost physically sick with worry as she was rushed back to the Bat Cave. Her terror did not lessen until Mulder walked out carrying the child. William nearly leapt out of Mulder's arms, babbling "Mama!" over and over again. Because of the still very real threat on William and Mulder, Carlos personally drove Mulder, Scully and William back to Phoenix in a bullet resistant vehicle. The irony was they missed Starkweather boarding her plane by five minutes. Skinner elected to stay behind for a day or two. To help with the follow-up investigation, he said. Doggett was convinced that Skinner had been co-ersed by Carlos and CIA to make sure that the whitewash stayed intact and nobody got overly curious. Which only added to Doggett's negativity. The car ride had been desperately quiet. Too quiet for even Reyes, who was used to Doggett's recalcitrance. "At least," she finally said, "everyone is safe. The captured women and children. And Dana." "Yeah," was all Doggett contributed to the conversation. <Alrighty then> she sighed to herself, still playing with the radio dial. She finally hear the familiar happy beat of a song she liked: "...Here's how it goes If you feel like leaving So if you go If you feel like leaving You can run you can hide but you can't Here's how it goes Doggett abruptly switched off the radio. He leaned back against the car seat and resumed gazing sullenly out the window, watching the rusty desert landscape meld into the urban sprawl that was named for a bird who was re-born through fire. Reyes glared at him. Enrique Iglesias was one of her favorite performers. Partially for his music, mostly for his smoldering good looks. "I liked that song," she informed Doggett in a snippy voice. "Sorry," but he didn't sound sorry at all. Reyes exhaled noisily. "She's fine John," she told him. "She'll be back. Grumbling about this and that." "I wish I had your faith," he said quietly, now looking at his hands. Reyes stared ahead at the road. "I'm scared for her too," she tried to reassure him. He shrugged and looked out the window again. "And she wouldn't have left without a good reason. You know that." "Yeah, well..." He faced Reyes. "It **better** be a damn good reason. 'Cause I'm gonna choke the life out of her when I see her again." Reyes smiled at his bravado and bluster. "John, John, John..." she chided him gently. "What?" he complained. "You're not fooling anybody." She turned the radio on again. "A court is in session, a verdict is in "So I held my head up high "I hear a thunder in the distance "So I held my head up high "I cry out to God "So I held my head up high "Should have been dead
Later still.... "This way, Mrs. Starkweather," Byers escorted her out of the VW Van, across the darkened parking lot towards the warehouse. It was raining. The Eastern Seaboard chill had shocked her system after spending all that time in the desert. Starkweather had no luggage. She didn't even have a coat. Byers, every the gentlemen, threw his long, frumpy trench coat over her shivering shoulders the minute he saw her waiting for him at the Baltimore Washington International Airport. He pounded on the door. After all the locks were open, Byers ushered Starkweather inside. "Coffee," he said softly, urgently to his short, little friend who had unlocked the door. "Now. She's freezing." Frohike hurried over to the dilapidated coffeemaker on the workshop bench where several computers were repaired. Langly disappeared into the back. He returned with a thick, black sweatshirt as Byers invited Starkweather to sit down on a battered couch they had recently acquired. "Here," Langly held it out like a page holding out the royal robes for his queen. "It ain't pretty but it's warm. And I think it's clean... I think..." Starkweather wasn't picky at this point. "Thank you," she murmured as she took off her ball cap to pull the sweatshirt over her head. "Here," Frohike handed her a sloppy cup of coffee. "It's nothing special, but it's hot. And we're out of sugar. Sorry. SOMEBODY," he glared at Langly. "Couldn't eat his Cheerios without it." "It doesn't matter," she sipped at it. It was horribly bitter, but hot. She sipped at it some more. "What's going on, Mrs. Starkweather?" Byers crossed his arms. "Sit down boys and get comfortable," she told them. "I've got a story to tell you..." She told them everything.
Meanwhile... "Here we are," Scully cooed to William. "We're home, Boo." She yawned mightily as she carried him inside. "We're home." Mulder shut the door behind him. "Want any help?" he asked her softly. "No... it'll only take a second..." she smiled at him as Mulder sank down onto the couch. She changed him, tickled his tummy, told him she loved him and put him to bed. "Night-night, sweet William," she smiled at him, her precious child. A piece of eternity. She looked up at the windows above the crib, noticing the ugly bars protecting the glass and sighed. She looked down at William again, who was sound asleep by now. She made sure he was covered with his "blankie" and after taking another resentful look at her windows, turned off the lights. She went to change her clothes and noted more bars on her windows. "Looks like the boys have been here," she announced with another yawn as she padded out of her bedroom in a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a soft blue cotton sleep shirt. Mulder lifted his head up. "The bars?" he asked sleepily, holding his hand out, beckoning her to his side. Scully sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Mm-hmm," she grunted, feeling his long arms wrap around her. Feeling warm. Feeling protected, safe. "They look awful. They make my apartment look like my own prison." "As many times as this place has been broken into," Mulder mumbled, stroking her hair. "You need to start taking more precautions. Or move." Now he yawned. "You're place isn't much better, when it comes to break-ins. Besides, I'm going to have to move in a few years anyway," Scully murmured. "This place is not big enough for all of us." "Maybe..." Mulder ventured tentatively. "Maybe we can assume the guise of normalcy and go house-hunting in Suburbia?" Scully smiled. "We'll put an office in the basement for you." "Oh gee, thanks." Scully looked up at him. Saw that he was a million miles away. "Mulder?" "Sorry, Scully... it's just..." he shook his head. "Before we left to intercept those trucks, Jerilyn was acting very erratically. She... received an email about a ballistics test, then she ran out. She came back later, gave me her FBI badge and ID and told me to hang on to them. Made me swear on everything that was holy to not lose them. Because it was going to be the only proof that she existed." "Mulder," Scully told him. "Yes, she's reckless at times. THAT runs in the family." "Cheap shot. We have no control over our chromosomes." "But she's not stupid Mulder. She is NOT going to leave on a mission without any type of communication. Especially if it's concerning an X-File... or something personal." "Ben? Or William?" "Maybe Ben, maybe William, maybe something completely different, I don't know... but, Jerilyn WILL contact us. She will not leave us in the dark..." she looked off towards the nursery nervously. Then she reached over and turned up the volume on the baby monitor. "She'll contact us. If she wanted to leave without a trace, she would not have given you her badge. That's her signal to you. To us. The FBI is her life now. She will come back to reclaim her badge, her life," Scully said resolutely. "I just wonder where in the hell she is," Mulder fussed.
Meanwhile... Starkweather finished speaking. She leaned back into the couch, waited for their reactions patiently. Langly was the first to speak. "Hokey Pete’s." "That's a lot tamer than I was expecting," she said dryly. "Holy shit," Frohike piped up. "That's better," she sighed. "What do you need us to do, Mrs. Starkweather?" "The main thing was to buy me sometime. The lovely toads at the CIA think I'm still stuck in O'Hare. But, I need to document this information. Everything I told you. And I need one of you to deliver it to Doggett." "Why not Mulder?" Langly frowned. He didn't like Doggett. "Do you realize how many pairs of eyeballs are watching Mulder?" she reminded him. "Doggett's safer. They think they've got him jumping through their hoops." "Is he?" Byers asked her. A wicked little smile appeared on her face. "Oh, he's playing the game," she informed them. "But he's playing by his rules and in the end, it's gonna be him holding the hoops. I can guarantee that." "Use my computer," Byers offered. "I don't have anything up and running right now. Frohike gave her a blank diskette. For a solid thirty minutes, there was nothing but the sound of typing. She saved it to disk. Langly gave her an envelope. At her request, he also got her a sheet of blank paper and a pen. She scrawled a note to Doggett in her execretable handwriting. When she thought the Gunmen weren't looking, she slid her wedding ring off and added it to the envelope. After sealing the envelope, she handed it to Langly. "My life depends on this." "I know," Langly, for once, was completely serious. So was Frohike "You can trust us." "And if you need to contact us," Byers handed her a cell phone. "Consider this a panic button. Hit number 2, and as soon as the conversation is over, throw the phone away." "We also have a fake email set up," Frohike added. "It's easy to remember: bob1@hotmail.com. Use that address to contact us. We've built up massive firewalls around that addy. You need anything and that address is good to go." "Thank you," she smiled at them. Less than a year ago, she had pulled a gun on them because she caught them setting up surveillance videos in her apartment. Now, she was entrusting everything to them. <<God help me>> she thought. "Byers, can you take me to Ronald Reagan International, where everyone THINKS I'm flying in." "Of course, Mrs. Starkweather." "Byers," she said wearily. "We're friends, you don't have to call me Mrs. Starkweather anymore. I don't even qualify for the "Mrs." part anymore anyway," she added bitterly. After an awkward silence, Langly asked, "Is there anything else we can do?" "Just deliver the package. That's the most important thing." "It's done," Langly patted her shoulder clumsily. "Don't worry." "Make sure Mulder doesn't go off and do something stupid?" "We'll get the handcuffs out," Frohike said. "Ew," she wrinkled her nose. "That was over share, Melvin." "Good luck, Jerilyn," the funny little man's impassive face never changed. Langly's however, looked woebegone. "Email us so we know you're okay." "I can't make any promises but I will holler if I'm in trouble." Another awful silence passed. Starkweather looked at Byers. "I have to go." Byers nodded. "I'm ready." She smiled gamely at the two left behind. "See ya later." Frohike shut and locked the door behind her. "Shit..." Langly said sadly, "Man this sucks." "Let's think of a way to get this damn disk over to Doggett's the fastest and safest way. We can't exactly walk it over there... we don't even know if he's back from Arizona yet." "He is gonna be pissed once he reads it." "Doggett? Fuck him, it's Mulder blowing a gasket that I'm worrying about." Frohike rubbed his temples. "I need a drink."
And much later still... Eve Charlie's new doctor, Dr. Amos Kroeger, was sitting patiently in the waiting room, reading the comics from last Sunday's paper. He folded the newspaper up neatly and stood up when Doggett and Reyes came inside. "Dr. Kroeger, I'm Agent Doggett, this Agent Reyes," he introduced them, holding out his hand. "Sorry about makin' this so late, but Reyes and I just got back in town." "Yes, yes," the slender man with the silvery hair and neatly trimmed beard nodded. "I saw the report on television. At your request, we have increased security. I'm also researching the possibility of transferring Charlie over to a different facility. My friend, Doctor Monique Sampson, is over at Chessman. She may have an opening." "Good, good," Doggett said vaguely. "Can we see her? Talk to her?" "If she's awake, which she usually is," Dr. Kroeger nodded. "Follow me." As Kroeger lead the agents down the familiar elevator and the hallways, he began talking. "I've been reading her history files. Fascinating. Fascination. One thing about Dr. Nyman is she always took meticulous notes. Ms. Reyes, I assume you are the same Reyes that attempted the art therapy with Charlie with mixed results?" "I wasn't aware the results were mixed," Reyes said politely. "Well, I would say Charlie biting at her wrists so she could use real blood to paint the image of the bleeding foxes would be a mild setback, wouldn't you?" Reyes wanted to slap him. "How is Charlie now?" Doggett asked. "Quiet. Very quiet. Withdrawn. Lost interest in the things that stimulated her. We have her on twenty-four hour suicide watch. And we increased her Prozac dosage. We may have to up it again." The doctor led them down the hall of the maximum security cells to Charlie's. "Charlie," he said in a patronizing tone. "Charlie, you have visitors." Charlie was sitting on the bed, looking up at a picture she had drawn. "Thank you," she said in a husky voice. "I'll take my leave, but if you need anything, have me paged." "Thanks doctor," Doggett said. "Hello Charlie," Reyes said warmly as soon as Dr. Kroeger departed. "Hi," her eyes never left the drawing she was staring at. "How are you, Charlie?" Doggett asked her formally. "Are they treating you okay here?" "It's fine," she said lifelessly. "They treat me fine. But it's not me you're worried about, although I do appreciate the courtesy you are showing by checking up on me." "Charlie, we want you to be safe," Reyes told her gently. "Nothing can be safer than a cage," Charlie reminded her just as gently. "The lawyer Jerilyn hired for me, Miss Brandybuck-Rogeux? She stopped by today. She said that her motion to delay the hearing was denied. I go to court on Monday, January 7." Doggett and Reyes exchanged nervous looks. "Nobody told us that," Doggett frowned. "You were busy," Charlie said politely. Suddenly her face crumpled in pain and she put her fingertips to her head, massaging her temples. "Charlie, what's wrong?" Reyes asked fearfully, but both she and John knew what was wrong. The serum Starkweather had given her was wearing off. She whispered to Doggett, "John, she can't go to court." "I'll get more of the drug," Doggett whispered back to her. "I'll go to Scully and get more of it and... we'll find a way." "No, please, don't," Charlie interrupted their whisperings. "I won't let you. Dr. Nyman said explicitly that she will not have her patients be treated in an unorthodox manner. No alternative treatments. No unapproved drugs." "But Charlie," Doggett reminded her. "Dr. Nyman isn't your doctor anymore. She's dead. Dr. Kroeger is takin' care of you now." "And you don't think Dr. Kroeger didn't read Dr. Nyman's notes? Listen to her audio tape recordings of our treatments." She shook her head. "I won't let you destroy what you've worked so hard to achieve." "What did we achieve?" Doggett blurted out before he could help himself. "All in due time," Charlie said. "You can't see it now. And it's going to get worse before it gets better but... eventually..." She abruptly stopped talking, squeezing her eyes shut in pain again. She looked up at her picture again. "Eventually you will have what you have always desired plus what you never knew you always longed for." "What's that?" Doggett said warily. Reyes did not feel wary. She felt warm and peaceful. She felt what Charlie saw. "What do you see Charlie?" Reyes asked her quietly. Charlie's eyes were bright with tears. "I see a little girl with blue eyes and blond curly hair," she whispered. "And I see a boy who looks just like his mother." She never stopped staring at the picture she drew with her own hand before the beauty of art seemed futile. Tears of pain and loneliness streamed down her face. Reyes took a step closer to look at the picture Charlie was fixated on. It was a rough sketch of the Eiffel Tower. January 5, 2002 The wig itched but it was either that or cut and dye her hair, which Starkweather obstinately balked at. She didn't want her long, blond locks touched or altered in any way at all. When the CIA agent had handed her the shoulder-length, strawberry blond wig, she couldn't help but giggle. "I'm going to go undercover as Agent Scully?" she snickered as they showed her how to apply the wig and the colored contact lens. But once the wig and contacts were in, she did not look like Agent Scully at all. She looked like Bravo. Starkweather had shuddered at her own reflection and quickly turned away from the mirror. She was then given the information, her objective and her cover story. She was given a little time to practice her cover. Then she was transported to the airport. She missed Doggett and Reyes' plane touching down by five minutes. Since she could not sleep a wink on the flight, she had practiced the cover story. She had also ordered two Jack and Cokes and had to refrain herself from ordering a third. She would reach into her pocket from time to time and touch the cell phone that the Gunmen gave her. She wondered if it could make international calls. She never thought about that. But of course, she couldn't tell them that she was being sent to Paris. One of them would have accidentally blabbed it to Mulder. Or Doggett. Starkweather shuddered as she looked up at the magnificent tower, one of Paris' many claims to fame. She had always wanted to come her, visit the City of Lights. When she and Ben had gotten married, it had been a toss up between Hawaii and France. Hawaii won, just because it was warm. But Ben had said maybe for their fifth or tenth anniversary, they would go to Paris. Ben. She didn't want to think about Ben either. She wrapped the colorful scarf around her neck and shoved her hands in the pockets of the thick woolen coat and continued to walk. She had checked into her hotel but resisted crawling into bed and sleeping for a million years. She had to fight against the jet lag. Her internal clock had been screwed up since her flight to South Dakota. Then to DC. Then to Arizona. Then back to DC. Now here. It was mind-boggling. And her body was boggled as well. In too short of a time, it had to become conditioned to the typical Washington DC cold. Then to the frigid conditions of the Black Hills. Then to the mildness of a desert in the winter. Back to chilly DC. And now, here, where the grass was still green but you could see your breath in the early mornings. Still, it was unbelievable beautiful. Starkweather kept walking. She decided it would be in her best interest to find a coffee shop and get out of the chill before she caught a cold. <<That's the last fucking thing I need>> she groused to herself. She found a charming cafe a few city blocks away from the Eiffel Tower. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten a real meal in over four days. <<Well>> she rationalized to herself. <<If you're coming off of a fast, Paris is the best place to be>> "Bonjour!" the proprietor greeted her efficaciously. "Comment est-ce que je peux vous servir aujourd'hui, Madame?" "Le café et deux pâtisseries satisfont," Starkweather eyed the enormous chocolate eclairs and knew she could eat both two of them in one sitting. She rarely needed comfort food, but after the past few days, she felt she definitely deserved it. "Américain?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He had noticed the accent. She laughed. "Le non, numéro je suis canadien. J'habite au Québec. Mon père a grandi en France. Je suis venu chez sa famille au-dessus de la coupure de Noël de l'université." The proprietor relaxed. A Canadian college student visiting distant relatives over the holidays was better than any type of American any day of the week. Plus, she was very pretty. She had beautiful red hair, like a sunset. And piercing blue eyes. He served the coffee and pastries with a flourish. "Appréciez Madame." "Merci," Somehow Starkweather produced a dazzling smile for him and took her breakfast to a secluded table in the cafe. She sat there for over two hours, drinking several cups of the excellent coffee, indulging in a third éclair, people-watching and daydreaming. Wishing that she could go home.
Later... Doggett struggled to fish his house key out of his coat pocket while juggling his briefcase, his gym bag and a cat carrier. Caesar howled. "Oh shut up," he snapped at the cat. Caesar promptly turned up the volume. "Great, I get to listen to this all night," he groused. After not being able to sleep a wink all night, Doggett rolled out of bed at four in the morning to hit the gym before work. Little did he realize that at that exact moment, his partner was contemplating her place in the universe as she stared up at the Eiffel Tower. Despite the doctor's stern warning to take it easy because of his bruised ribs, Doggett put himself through a grueling workout before showering and descending into "the cellar" as he called the X-Files Office. He spent most of the day making or taking phone calls as while trying to complete his field journal report. He was all alone in the office. Scully had called in, sick. If it had been anyone else, Doggett would have suspected either a sleepless night due to heavy lovin' or the brown bottle flu, but Scully was too responsible to blow off work for such petty reasons. She sounded horrible on the phone. Doggett guessed correctly that worry, stress and lack of sleep and decent food finally caught up with her and with her body's resistance weakened, she picked up a miserable little cold germ. "I'm sorry," Scully had snuffled. "I just feel terrible..." "You sound terrible. Lay down," he had said sternly. "Make Mul-duh cook and buy you flowers. I'll call if anything important happens..." Reyes had been out in the field for most of the day. When she wasn't working on the follow-up investigation, interviewing the kidnapped victims, she was at Carter, Spangle and Adams. Trying desperately to help build a defense for poor Charlie. She came in once, to ask Doggett if he wanted to come with her for a quick lunch but he shook his head. "I'm too swamped," he had told her. Reyes promising to bring him something from the deli, had come through spectacularly by bringing him a fat, greasy Polish sausage on a steamed bun and a small bag of potato chips. That he never got to eat because just as Reyes left again, Doggett's phone rang. It was Kersh, asking him to stop up for a "quick chat." The quick chat soon turned into a three hour long interrogation which Doggett resolutely refused to answer. Finally, Kersh gave it up, realizing that there was no point in pursuing the subject. The Bureau had come out looking extremely good. He had heard rumors of CIA involvement and that Mulder may have been involved, but the FBI was getting full credit for the rescue and Mulder had been in DC the entire time. Or so his ditzy secretary Bunny sweetly told Kersh when he had called her on a fishing for information expedition before calling Doggett. Doggett had stormed back down to his office in a worse mood than before. Three hours of his life had been wasted, his lunch had gotten cold and he had a splitting headache. To top it all of, his cell phone rang and a happy-happy voice informed him that he was an hour late in picking up his kitty-cat from the Happy Happy Pet Hotel. "Kitty-cat?" he had barked into the phone. "I don't own a kitty-cat." "It says so right here in my computer, sir," the happy-happy voice suddenly turned into bitch-bitch voice. "Caesar Dictator, feline, male, orange. Owner, John Jay Doggett. Address, 2962 Grand View Avenue, Falls Church, Virginia. Phone number, 202-555-3776. Work number, 202-555-1013. Cell phone, 202-210-6773." <<I'm gonna kill her>> Doggett had rubbed his temple while thinking blasphemous thoughts about his charming partner. "Fine, okay, it's my cat. But I'm stuck at work, I'll get there as soon as I can." Bitch-bitch voice converted back to happy-happy voice once again. "Okey-dokey, our itty-bitty baby Caesar-kitty-poo-poo will be sure happy to see his daddykins." Doggett had wished there was a way to reach out and throttle someone. "Yeah, great," he had grumbled before slamming the phone down and yelling uselessly "GOT-DAMMIT DOC! I HATE THAT FUCKING CAT!" So, after wrapping up his paperwork, he left the J. Edgar Hoover Building to fetch Starkweather's cat from the Happy Happy Pet Hotel. The first thing her itty-bitty baby Caesar-kitty-poo-poo did when he was placed in his daddykins' arms, was to bite him. Hard. "OW!!!!" Doggett had flung Caesar off of him. Caesar landed on his feet, growled at him and hid under the receptionist's desk. "Can you," Doggett had glared at the receptionist, "find his damn carrier and put him in? I'm gonna go find a Band-Aid." To top it all off, rush hour traffic was more hellish than usual. Which meant he got home an hour later than usual. Which pissed him off even more than before. He finally found his house key and let himself in. He put the cat carrier and his briefcase on his table. He peered into the carrier. Caesar hissed at him. "Yeah, well, you're going set your furry ass in there until you learn some manners," Doggett growled at the cat furiously. "You're lucky you don't live with me, cat. You would've been target practice years ago." He groaned. He very well may be saddled with the Cat from Hell if... "Don't..." he grumbled to himself as he trudged off to his bedroom to get out of his suit. He couldn't afford to think that way. He changed into a white-T-shirt, a beloved pair of faded blue Levi's and a black sweater. He walked back over to the cat carrier. "Alright," he growled at the cat. "I'm goin' out for a bit. If you do anything to piss me off, I'm gonna make you into a new furry shammy for my truck." His cell rang. He frowned. He didn't recognize the number. He hoped it was Starkweather. "John Doggett." "Didja let the Cat from Hell out yet?" "Langly?!" Doggett yelped in surprise. "How'd you know... wait a minute... did you hack into the pet hotel's computer systems and change the owner information from Starkweather's to mine???" "Like taking candy from a baby, Dogbert. Candy from a baby." Langly gloated. "I'm gonna fucking kill you." "Just listen and don't say nothing. We did do a scan of your house and of Mulder and Scully's apartments for bugs while you were gone. Nothin' came up as of yesterday. But who knows 'bout today." "Langly, I've had the day from hell and I'm not in the mood for any of your paranoid bullsh-" "There's a computer disk inside the cat carrier from Starkweather." "Excuse me?" "She said it was important that you get that disk and that nobody gets that information. We couldn't just pop in on ya at the Bureau or your house and hand it over to you. Who knows how many eyeballs are on you guys now, especially with the shit that went down in Arizona. The disk it in an envelope which is inside the little cushion on the floor of the carrier. Good luck Dogbreath." Langly hung up "Langly wait!" Doggett cried out but it was too late. He hit redial on his cell, but he got a voice mail saying "This number is no longer in service..." "Great," Doggett muttered. He reached over and carefully opened the cat carrier. Caesar flew out like a shot and jumped up on Doggett's sofa. He promptly hacked up a hairball, then jumped down and ran into the kitchen where he climbed up on top of the refrigerator so he could take a nap. His puffy orange tail curled up around his body. Doggett, miraculously, didn't notice. He disappeared into his office to grab his computer notebook and he snatched up the cat cushion inside the carrier. The carrier had been clawed to death by the cat, stuffing was peeking up through the rents. He grabbed his leather jacket and stormed outside, locking the door behind him. Doggett carried the cushion outside where the trash cans were. He ripped it completely open and found a creamy white envelope. Throwing the remains of the cushion in the trash, he stuffed the envelope in his back pocket and hurried to his truck. Once in the truck, he dialed his phone. "Mulder." "Mul-duh, it's John Doggett, look you gotta meet me at the Coffee is My Friend Coffee Shop. Tonight." "What's the matter?" "The Gunmen sent me something they say is from Jerilyn." "What is it? Are you positive it's from her?" Doggett pulled the envelope out of his pocket and opened it. Examined the contents. "Yeah," he said pulling out her wedding ring, watching the brilliance of the diamond Ben picked out just for her twinkle and shine. "It's from her..." "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Should Scully...?" "Have Scully stay put with the baby. She's not feeling well anyway. But do me a favor?" "Sure." "Call Reyes." "No problem, see you in a few." "Thanks." When Mulder hung up, Doggett leaned back in his seat and stared at the ring for a little bit longer. He put it on his pinkie finger. He couldn't get it on beyond his second knuckle. <<God, she's got tiny hands>> he thought as he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the driveway.
Later... Mulder made it to the coffee shop first. "House blend, black," Mulder said absently to the girl at the cash register, putting a five on the counter. He shrugged off his heavy winter coat as the waitress poured him a cup. As he walked over to the coat rack, Reyes and Doggett walked in together. "Together again," Mulder droned. "How I missed these special moments." "So what's going on? Reyes unbuttoned her green felt jacket and hung it up next to Mulder's. "What do we got?" "That's what we're gonna find out," Doggett muttered grimly. He handed the computer to Reyes as he took off his coat. "Is Scully joining us?" Reyes asked as they sat at a table together. "She's not feeling well. I told her I would fill her in," Mulder informed everyone. He felt guilty for leaving her behind even though he shouldn't. Scully all but chased him out. "I just want to sleep Mulder," she had whined. "That's only thing that's going to help me shake this. William's asleep for the night so I don't need you here to keep an eye on him. I'll be fine. If it's an emergency, call." And she had rolled over and fallen back asleep. "So," Mulder said after Doggett booted up his computer notebook. "What do we got?" "We'll find out in a minute," Doggett muttered, waiting for his computer to initialize. "Accordin' to Langly, Starkweather said there's something on this disk that **had** to get to me." He slipped the disk into the C drive. "Was there anything else included with the disk?" Mulder asked. "A note to me..." he took it out of his pocket and gave it Mulder. "God, her handwriting's awful," Mulder flipped the note upside to see if he could read it that way. "A doctor with bad handwriting? No way," Reyes deadpanned as she took the note from Mulder. "Geez..." "I think it says 'Truth is often eclipsed but never extinguished.'" Doggett tried to translate the messy cursive writing. "Livy, from "The History of Rome"" Mulder nodded, familiar with the quote. "I thought about getting that tattooed on my ass but they charge per letter." "Anything else? Anything that would have alerted you to call us?" Reyes was just afraid that whatever was on the disk could be intensely personal, although she didn't sense that it was. She just wanted to be sure to spare her friend any potential embarrassment. "And this," Doggett held up his hand. At first neither Reyes nor Mulder understood what Doggett meant. Then the diamond ring on his pinkie sparkled when the light hit it. "Is that...?" Reyes slid the ring off of his finger. "But why?" She passed the ring to Mulder. "It's a sign," Mulder began to profile. "Of what?" Reyes asked. "Of letting go. Cutting ties to the past. Saying goodbye." Since they were the only ones in the coffee shop, other than the girl reading a book of Sylvia Plath poetry at the register, it was deathly quiet when they stopped talking. "You better open that file up, Doggett," Mulder finally said. As Doggett opened the Word Document, Mulder got up and walked around the table to stand behind Doggett and Reyes. Together, the three of them began to silently read. "January 4, 2002 Doggett: What I have discovered is this. In 1973, in the name of saving humanity when in reality they just wanted to cover their own asses, a group of men from all lifestyles and backgrounds, decided to embark on a daring genetics experiment to increase the superiority of the human species. This was going on behind the scenes of the Cold War, "Roe versus Wade" and Watergate. The time was ripe for disillusionment and paranoia. Whether or not it was prompted by a threat of invasion be it the so-called aliens or the so-called Russian threat, is still debatable. The true motivations might never be truly known. Whatever the cause may be, the effects, to say the least are still felt today. In 1966, a woman named Lynette Malone was given the devastating news that she would never bear children. She had no ova. The doctors are mystified; they cannot understand how a healthy, menstruating woman can be without ova. For the rest of the medical community, the phenomenon of ovum-harvesting is decades away. As so the miracle of surrogate motherhood. However, in 1973, with the ova harvested from Lynette Malone, now known as Mrs. Jeremy Bailey, they successfully completed not only in-vitro fertilization but surrogate pregnancies in a time where such things were still tales of science fiction. There was a man put in charge. A man with several names but with the same insidious goals. His ruthlessness was as legendary as the amount of cigarettes he could smoke in a day. What cruelty prompted him to put a young Jeremy Bailey in charge of securing the viability of his wife's children. Children she would never know or hold. That is still yet a mystery. What is not a mystery is Jeremy Bailey's role in the Eden Project. Yes, in the video he left behind stated that he was in charge of security and his concern for the maltreated infants and the love of his wife to assist a man known only as "Deep Throat" in shutting down the project. But Jeremy left one detail out from the video. He was instrumental in keeping the Eden Project quiet. Hiding evidence. Destroying evidence. When we were in South Dakota, when we found those skeletons in the cave, I took one of the bullets from the victims back to Washington with me. I asked Mulder to run a secret ballistics test. On a gun that the Admiral owned. It matched the bullet I found in South Dakota. Perfectly. One of his duties to the Syndicate was to kill the surrogate mothers after the babies had been born. To make sure the truth never got out. In return, the Cancer Man would secure the title of Admiral for the young man and pay him handsomely. All the while spinning him tighter into his spider's web.
There are four men documented as being donors to the Eden Project. They have no names, except for one, Bill Mulder. Because he was sacrificing his daughter Samantha, to the Cause, the head of the project promised him that they would spare the child with his genes from the experiments and tests and give that child to him. Essentially to take Samantha's place. However, this did not happen. Yes, one child was isolated from the other test subjects, as requested, but it was not Bill Mulder's child that was kept apart from the rest. The motivations are unclear for the switch. Love? Spite? Compassion? Revenge? Maybe all in one? No one knows. However, the Cancer Man pulled a switch-around. The child called Bravo, believed to be the progeny of the Cancer Man, actually belongs to Bill Mulder." "Wait a minute..." Mulder re-read that sentence. "What?" "And the child called Echo was the Cancer Man's daughter." "What the hell??" Doggett burst out. "This information was found in a file at the lab in the Black Hills. A file labeled "Mulder, William Christopher, S DOB 3-7-2001. In this file, along with extensive genetic research, was a detailed family tree, complete with medical histories for each family member. Documented on this tree, was the parentage of Fox William Mulder. According to the information in William's file, Fox is also the Cancer Man's son. I had heard the rumors of Fox Mulder not truly being Bill Mulder's son. That his mother Teena had been seduced by the Cancer Man. I asked for a genetics test to be run. On myself. On Mulder. On William. And on a DNA sample from the Cancer Man. When he was shot, he bled copiously over a rug and a broken photograph of Fox and Samantha Mulder when they were children. The photograph became property of a crime scene and had not seen the light of day until Agent Bonaventure Merchant discovered it in a storage room in the Pentagon. There was enough blood on the photo still to conduct the test. And the tests came back positive. For Mulder and myself. And William. There is no more need for concern about paternity. He is Fox Mulder's son. And the Cancer Man's grandson. Unfortunately so much is still unexplained. How did they get Lynette's ova? What exactly happened to Scully after Duane Barry abducted her from her home? What happened to Mulder when he disappeared from the forest in Bellefleur and how was he able to survive being buried alive for three months? Why does the Syndicate want their hands on William? And then there's me. I still don't understand the purpose of the Eden Project and my role in it. But I am determined to find out. For purely selfish reasons, I'm afraid. Partially to avenge Ben's murder. But mostly to discover my inheritance. Lux Carlos told me of a mission which I have accepted. The CIA has been granted authorization to terminate the Cancer Man. Because of my uncanny likeness to Bravo, they have sent me to find him. Wish me luck. Jerilyn." PS: Could you take care of my cat while I'm gone? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks. "They've sent her to kill him," Reyes whispered hoarsely. Mulder bolted up. "Doggett, go over to my apartment and tell Scully what's going on." He tossed his keys to him. "What are you going?" Reyes demanded. "To find my stupid little sister," Mulder growled. "Where are you even going to look?" Reyes said. "There's no address, no telephone number." "The Gunmen," Doggett said suddenly. Mulder nodded. "Bingo. They're a helluva lot sneakier than they look. I'm sure they slipped something on her that's a tracking device." "I'm comin' with you," Doggett stood up as well. So did Reyes. "No. You're not," Mulder stood nose to nose with Doggett. "You are going to stay behind and explain to what's going on with Scully. Reyes is going to stay behind and continue to help Margot Brandybuck-Rogeux build a case for Charlie. While I'm gone, the three of you will have the pleasure of kicking Carlos' ass for letting Jerilyn go. That is something I am sorry I will be missing." Mulder stalked out of the coffee shop. "Somebody needs to tell him she's not Samantha," Reyes finally said. "I don't think that matters anymore," Doggett picked up the wedding ring. Reyes clasped his hand. "Hang in there, John." "Hang on to **what??**"
A little later... Frohike unlocked the door. "What took you so long?" he demanded as Mulder stomped in. "We were about ready to call you." "Did Jerilyn-" "Last night. She wrote some love letter to Dogbert and left again," Langly interrupted. "Did you-" "We gave her a secured cell phone and told her to use it for an emergency," Byers interrupted. "There is a transmitter inside. We've been tracking her since she left." "Where is sh-" "The signal is sketchy because she went overseas," Frohike butted into the conversation. "We had to contact one of our buddies across the big pond to pick up the signal. He's tracking her now. She's in Paris, France." "Okay, I need-" "Here's your plane ticket," Langly said, handing him a long envelope. "Here's your passport," Byers handed him the passport he lifted from Mulder's apartment after bringing Starkweather to the airport. "And I took the liberty of packing a few things." He handed Mulder a small black duffel bag. "And can you-" "We'll make sure Agent Doggett doesn't follow you," Byers reassured him. "And we'll feed your fish while you're gone," Langly added. "And we'll make sure the luscious Agent Scully will allow you back in her bed when you and the Hurricane get home," Frohike finished. "Oh... um... okay," Flustered, Mulder turned to go. "Thanks.... I think..." He left as quickly as he came. "He's so predictable," Frohike snorted.
Meanwhile... "HE DID WHAT???????" Doggett winced at Scully's shriek. "Dana," Reyes tried to reason with her. "And you just let him go? Agent Doggett? You let him go after her?" "Now, just wait a damn minute," Doggett began to see red. "Mulder is a grown man, Agent Scully. Not a child. It ain't my responsibility that he check in with you before he goes off and does something stupid." "Oh, how dare you paint me as the controlling housewife, keeping tabs on him! If you were my friend-" "I AM your friend, God help me-" "Then WHY didn't you stop him?" "Tell me how in the hell I'm s'pposed to stop him once he's dead set with doing a Mulder-stunt?" "Dana, John, please don't fight!" Reyes pleaded. "Shut up," both Scully and Doggett snapped at her. And both instantly felt remorse. "Sorry, Mon," Doggett muttered, looking at the floor, his ears pink. "I'm sorry too Monica," Scully apologized, trudging over to the couch. She slumped down and reached for a tissue. "There was no excuse for that." She tightened her bathroom around her. She had been woken from a Robitussion-induced sleep when Doggett and Reyes knocked on her door to tell her that once again, Mulder had taken off. She blew her nose like a child and pitched the dirty Kleenex into the trash can. "Oh dammit... I could just choke him... and her..." she added darkly. "Why did she go?" Doggett looked up at Reyes. Reyes looked over at Scully. "Starkweather came into some disturbing information." "About?" Reyes told her about the letter she left for Doggett. Scully folded her hands together. "I don't care," she said slowly, resolutely. "I, too, heard the rumors, the insinuations, the lies. Mulder confronted his mother once about it. All it earned him was a slap in the face. Literally." Scully shook her head, banishing the thoughts of Teena Mulder from her mind. "I don't care who his... **their** father is..." She put her hand to her mouth, thinking. "Dana?" Reyes asked. "What are you thinking?" She smiled, a funny little half smile. "That I'm going to kick his ass when he gets home," she whispered, tears brimming. "Dana, we CAN go after him," Doggett told her. "All we gotta do is go to the Gunmen and shake 'em up a bit and they'll tell us where-" "No," Scully shook her head, looking very tired now. "No. I can't... make him into something he's not. He has to do this." Both Doggett and Reyes were shocked at this turnabout. For the short time they have known her, they have never known her to roll over and be walked on like this. After shooting Reyes a "What the hell?" look, Doggett reminded Scully. "He can't keep doing this to you, Dana. He can't keep running off, chasing ghosts. He's got responsibilities now. To you. To William. To his family." "He is maintaining his responsibilities to his family. He is going to protect his sister. In doing that, he protects his son." "You underestimate Starkweather, Dana," Doggett grumbled. "You underestimate Mulder, Agent Doggett," Scully replied.
January 6, 2002 It had been easy to find him. He looked benign, sitting at his little table, sipping coffee after coffee, watching people stroll by in their stylish Parisian fashions. He looked like a widower or a kindly grandfather on vacation. With a jolt, Starkweather realized he was a grandfather. To William. She squeezed her ankles together, feeling her sleek little Beretta press against her flesh. She blended into the crowded cafe easily enough. Her plain face worked for her for once. She had purchased a pair of tinted eyeglasses, put a fashionable scarf over her red wig and applied a shade of lipstick neither she or Bravo would be caught dead wearing. In conjunction with the sleek pants and the trendy sweater, she actually pulled off looking European instead of American. She pretended to be writing in a notebook when reality it was full of doodles as she monitored the Cancer Man's movements. Finally, the old despicable man paid his bill and strolled off. Starkweather waited. She knew where he was staying so there was no rush. She finished her coffee leisurely and then left after paying her bill. She shivered once she stepped outside in the misty rain. As she walked, she paused to admire the infamous l'Opera, another tribute to Napoleon’s opulence. Stricken, a memory leapt out of hiding to plague her. When Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera" came to Des Moines, Ben, as a surprise, purchased tickets for the both of them to "experience some culture." Jerilyn would have been happier going to an Aerosmith concert but she went along and discovered it wasn't as horrible as she that it was going to be. Just a lot of singing... A LOT of singing. But after that night, the newly engaged Ben and Jerilyn began talking about honeymoon possibilities. France had been mentioned. "And we can see the REAL l'Opera," Jerilyn had slipped her hand into his, still not used to the weight of the diamond ring on her left finger. "And if we want the sun, go to the South of France afterwards for a few days." "Can we go to Euro Disney too?" "You're such a kid." "Nobody is too old for Disney. Or if we really just want the sun, we could just go to Vegas and elope." "Your mother would kill us." "And your dad probably wouldn't like me very much either." "But I would and that's all that matters." Elated, still on her high that she was actually getting **married**, she started to sing the great love duet from the show they had just seen, "Say you love me, every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime..." Tears pricked her eyes. Thinking about going to see "The Phantom of the Opera" with her late husband and staring at the great theater which inspired the book and the musical only served to remind her that she was not only a widow, but practically an orphan. Sometimes she hated having a photographic memory, for one of the lesser known songs from the show came to mind... "You were once Wishing you were Wishing I could Passing bells Too many years Wishing you were Try to forgive No more memories ... and she felt that even if she would die right now on the spot, the hurt still wouldn't go away. She forced herself to walk away. An hour later...
1013 J'Ai fait Cette Rue He shut the door behind him with a heavy sigh. The apartment was not very nice, quite shabby actually, but it served its purpose. It had been used as his personal hiding place for years and years and years. Sometimes he came here just to get away. To forget about the madness across the sea and up in the stars. It was a small suite of rooms above a shop that has changed owners and products throughout the years. Right now, it was a trendy wine bar, but the apartments above were never changed, never rented out. The owners always had an understanding with "Le Syndicat" that the upstairs would not be touched. In return, their little shop would be rewarded with protection from thievery and violence. The Cancer Man shrugged off his coat, shivering. He was cold. A cold that soaked all the way through his flesh to his bones. "I'm too old for this," he sighed. But he couldn't stop. He tried to stop and everything went to hell. The Syndicate almost collapsed, Mulder was abducted, Scully was impregnated and Starkweather was discovered. Wrong, wrong, wrong. All of those things wrong. It was going to take a lot of work to undo what has been done. But first, because he was an old man now, with beginning pangs of arthritis and an intolerance for chills, he would have a hot bath. And a glass of wine. And a cigarette. He shuffled off to the bathroom. Unnoticed, Starkweather slipped through the backdoor of the building. She quietly tiptoed up the stairs. She could hear a television blaring out a French sitcom. She took out a small toolkit from her coat pocket and selected the smallest slim jim. She picked the lock easily enough. <<For a man everyone wants dead>> she thought. <<He sure isn't worried about security.>> Of course, nobody knew he was here. Starkweather pulled out her Beretta, took the safety off and cautiously nudged the door open. Peering inside, she saw nothing but a drab sofa, a matching drab chair with footstool and an ancient TV, turned on at top volume. She also heard the splashing of water. She shut the door and turned the volume down. "Who's there?" a voice cried out. "Relax," Starkweather yelled back. "It's just me." "Ah," the Cancer Man sank back into his bath. The water was cloudy with Epson salts. "You should have let me know you were coming." "I didn't have a choice," Starkweather said grimly, walking closer to the bathroom door. "What happened?" Starkweather paused right outside the door. He asked the question again. "What happened?" Slowly, she pushed open the door. Saw an old, decrepit man sitting in an almost overflowing bathtub. "Ew," she couldn't help herself. "What in the hell has gotten into you?" demanded the Cancer Man. Then he looked down at the hand that held the gun. "Bravo?" Starkweather reached up and pulled the wig off. Her long blond hair tumbled down around her face and shoulders. The Cancer Man leered at her. "Agent Starkweather..." "Hi Dad," she sneered as she raised her gun to his head. "This isn't the first time a gun's been pointed at me, Agent Starkweather." He exuded an aura of being in complete control, despite being as naked as the day he was born. "Yeah, well, this is the first time you've had a gun pointed at you held by me." She took a step closer to him. "You have your mother's face," the Cancer Man observed. "Not her coloring. Not her eyes. But definitely her face. Like a heart." "Oh no," Starkweather said icily. "No. You shut up. You shut the fuck up about her." "She had the most beautiful eyes. Gray, like a stormy day. And red hair. Auburn, actually. You and Fox, inherited MY coloring, I'm afraid..." he rambled, his eyes coldly appraising her appearance. "The blond suits you. Blue eyes though..." he shook his head, his own hazel eyes twinkling madly. Like a fox. "What do you care of beauty? You pervert beauty, you cut it down before it even has a chance to reach it's potential." "Samantha?" he smirked cruelly. "Or William, perhaps? How touching. Are you fighting Fox Mulder's battles now, Agent Starkweather?" "No. I wasn't talking about Samantha or William." "Ah. Of course, I forgot who I was dealing with. For you see, Agent Starkweather, you inherited more than my coloring. You inherited my cunning. And my selfishness." "I inherited nothing from you." "But you are here because of YOUR suffering. You're looking to make the pain go away. It's simple pop psychology, Agent Starkweather... Jerilyn, dear. Kill me and you kill the aching void where your husband and your mother used to fill." He was baiting her now. "Go ahead, Agent Starkweather. Pull the trigger. I am an old man. I have lost everything. My health. Both of my sons. Both of my daughters. And I will never know what kind of a man my grandson will grow up to be. Do it, Agent Starkweather," he was yelling at her now. "Do what Fox Mulder could never do! Pull the trigger!" "Jerilyn don't!" Both the Cancer Man and Starkweather jumped. Mulder stood behind her, dressed in the same jeans, boots, navy sweater and leather jacket that he had been wearing when he met Doggett and Reyes at the "Coffee is My Friend" 25 Hour Coffee Shop. "Mulder?!?!?! What the hell???" she snapped at him. "Jerilyn, if you kill him, you'll never be able to live with yourself," he told her sternly. "Let him live," Mulder glared at the decrepit old man, his sagging flesh wrinkling even more in the bathwater. "Let him a long unhappy life. Let him die with the knowledge that he failed to achieve what he wanted." "And what would that be, Mr. Mulder?" "**Agent** Mulder to you, you yellowing nicotine-addicted piece of shit." "That's a new one **Agent** Mulder. You must have a lot of time on your hands, in your fancy Deputy Mayor's office, to be able to think up of such creative insults such as that." "Jerilyn, please," Mulder begged her. "Let's go. Everyone at home is waiting for you." "And," the Cancer Man leaned back in his tub, still confident. "We'll be waiting for you. Agent Mulder," he reached over for the little towel on top of the small table next to the tub. After drying his hands, he reached for his precious pack of cigarettes and lit up. "Agent Mulder, I once made an offer to you. To come work for me. And you turned me down. How you've paid for that. And how your beloved Agent Scully suffered. And the love child she bore for you." He made a tsk-tsk sound. "Obviously, Bill Mulder never had the father-son chat about the importance of not being caught with your pants down." He shrugged. "And of course, pity the poor child that suffers." Starkweather looked up at Mulder. Saw his eyes narrow. Saw his hand reaching inside his jacket pocket. "I used to love movies," the Cancer Man said dreamily. "I remember seeing 'Return of the Jedi' when it was first in the theater. There's a marvelous line at the near end. "If you will not turn to the Dark Side," the Cancer Man shifted his gaze from son to daughter. ""Perhaps SHE will."" Cajoling now, he asked her, "What do you say, Agent Starkweather? What does the FBI hold for you now?" "Speaking of movies," Starkweather said lightly. "Ever see the movie 'Sleepers'?" Confused at the strange turnabout in the conversation, the Cancer Man frowned. "No... I can't say I have..." "Mulder?" she said brightly. "Have you seen it?" Mulder looked at her like she was nuts. "Yeah... a while ago..." "It's a great movie. Stars Brad Pitt and what's-his-name who threw his career away to make 'Speed 2: Cruise Control' with Sandra Bullock," Starkweather said cheerfully. "But the book that it was based off of, by Lorenzo Carcaterra, was far better. Much more powerful. And it's a true story." "See, there's a part in the novel and the movie where the author's father, the neighborhood butcher is telling the author and his young friends about the power of revenge. How a local crime boss named "King Benny" rose to power because he avenged himself on a man who broke all of his teeth. He tracked the man to a public bathhouse and says to him "When I look in the mirror, I see your face..." " She lifted her gun up again. So did Mulder. The Cancer Man waited patiently, smoking. Both Starkweather and Mulder squeezed off two rounds each. The Cancer Man screamed as both kneecaps and both lower legs were shot. Blood turned the tepid water a vile rusty color. ""Now,"" Starkweather finished the quote. ""When you take a bath, you see mine." I'm patient," Starkweather told him fiercely as he writhed in agony. "I can wait until we're face to face in hell to finish you." "Always a joy and a pleasure seeing you," Mulder said tightlipped as he followed Starkweather out the door. Brother and sister walked in silence for several miles. Neither one of them were exactly paying attention to where they were going. Finally Starkweather spoke up. "Well, that was therapeutic." "And much cheaper than anger-management classes," Mulder chimed in. Starkweather looked up and realized where they were. "Look," she pointed up. Mulder was humbled into silence as they stood in the shadow of the awesome Notre Dame. A slight breeze ruffled his hair but he did not feel the winter's chill as he stared solemnly up at the statues of God's Anointed Kings looking down. The mighty testament to the product of a virgin girl's prodigy was lit up from the inside. The massive multi-colored stained glass window glowed. Mulder could even detect the sound of a choir singing. "Lacrimosa... " "It's beautiful," Mulder finally said, lamely, inadequately. "Yeah..." came the equally lame, inadequate response. "You look funny with blue eyes," Mulder said gruffly. She turned her back and removed the contacts. Dropping them on the cobbled ground, she turned back to Mulder. "How's that?" she batted her hazel eyes at him. "Better." "Think he's dead?" "Him? Are you kidding?" Mulder scoffed. "We couldn't be that lucky." "Why didn't you-" "Why didn't YOU," Mulder countered. "After all, you agreed to go on this asinine mission." "How did you find me?" "The Gunmen. That phone they gave you was a tracking device." "Two-faced little bastards," she said but with affection. "Why, Jerilyn?" Mulder asked softly. She shrugged. "At the time, when Lux told me, it made sense. Matter of national security. Blah blah blah. Plus once I found out what the Admiral did..." she tore her eyes away from the gargoyles and spiral towers of the cathedral and looked at the ground. "What he was co-ersed into doing... I just wanted some justice. I just... didn't want all those people to have died for nothing. I thought I could really do it," she admitted in a small voice. "I thought I could walk in, see him and just pull the trigger and be done with it." "Maybe you weren't thinking very clearly?" Mulder prodded her. She glared at him, but muttered grudgingly. "Maybe..." Mulder looked up at the magnificent church again. "Maybe because you were trying to take on the entire world by yourself because you feel guilty for what has happened to you recently?" "Go away, Mr. Psychologist," she grumbled. "I get it, I get it. I fucked up. Royally." "No," Mulder sighed. "Carlos did." "Why? By asking me to assassinate the Cancer Man?" "That. And by leaving you all those years ago. He should have never made a decision about your life without even asking you. That," he said darkly. "Is what pisses me off about what they did to you. To Scully. They just took over without any concern of what you wanted." "They did that to you too," Starkweather reminded him. "When they took Samantha. And when they took you." Mulder snorted. "Maybe we should find that chain-smoking son-of-a-bitch and put a few more therapeutic rounds into him." She shook her head. "Let's just go home." After one more look up at Notre Dame, they started to walk away. Mulder placed his arm affectionately, brotherly over her tiny shoulders. "We better not try to fly out of Paris," Mulder said. "As your partner would say "Dollars to doughnuts", the Syndicate's got eyes all over the airport looking for us. Our best bet is to see if we can get onto the Chunnel and head to London. Fly out of Gatwick tomorrow." "'Dollars to doughnuts'," she snorted to herself. "That is such a stupid phrase." "Do me a favor." "What?" "Don't be stupid like me and wait nine years to tell someone you love them." "I'm supposed to take romance lessons from YOU?!?!?!?" Starkweather guffawed. "Besides, isn't Scully going to kick your ass when you get home? I'm guessing that you didn't necessarily ask for permission to leave the country." "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission." "Oh, I get it, you're just trying to get some make-up sex." He poked her. "Remind me WHY I flew half-way around the world to come get your sorry ass?" "Why DID you come after me?" she couldn't help asking. "Novel concept, I give a damn about you," Mulder droned. "And whether you like it or not, wherever you go, I will go after you. No matter what." "Great, my own personal stalker," she groaned. "As if Leo wasn't enough." "Jerilyn, I'm trying very hard to have a sentimental family moment with you and the fact that your mouth is making me want to pitch you into the Seine isn't helping me achieve the warm-fuzziness that I want to feel." "Thank you for coming for me," she said softly. He tightened his arm around her. "You're my sister," he said simply. "Nothing else matters."
Mulder woke up before Starkweather. He got up and looked over at her tiny frame, curled up in the other bed. He pulled the comforter that she had kicked off in her sleep back over her. Sitting back down on his bed, he reached for the phone while pulling a credit card out of his wallet. "Operator?" he said lowly so he wouldn't wake her up. She had looked exhausted by the time they reached London, but even after they checked into the hotel, she had tossed and turned most of the night. It seemed that she was finally getting some decent sleep. "I need to make an international call..."
********** Scully was unwrapping her tuna fish salad on rye when her cell phone rang. With a slight sigh, she put the sandwich down. "Scully." "Scully, it's me." "Mulder!" Both Doggett and Reyes looked up from their work. Or rather, Doggett looked up from his computer and Reyes looked down. She was on top of Mulder's old desk, trying to grab a pencil. "It's okay, Scully. I found her. She's fine. We're catching the first flight out this morning." "What happened?" "I can't tell you, this isn't a secure line. How are you?" "HOW AM I!?!?!?" Both Doggett and Reyes winced. Reyes mumbled some excuse, hopped down from the desk, picked up her shoes and scurried off. Doggett wished he had an excuse, but he was boxed in by files and incomplete case reports. Plus he was dying to know what happened to Starkweather. "HOW AM I?!?!? Well, Mulder, let me tell you. I have a cold. I have a headache. I have piles and piles of X-Files that need field reports written. I have a little boy who's been asking me "Where's Daddy" for nearly three days now. PLUS, when he's not asking where Daddy is, he's saying the words "butt" and "dammit." Care to tell me where he picked those up?" Mulder was holding the phone far away from his ear. Starkweather, still laying in bed with her eyes closed, started to croon softly "Love... exciting and new..." "That's enough from the peanut gallery," Mulder hissed at her. Starkweather sat up. "Whilst you and Scully exchange sweet nothings," she smirked. "I'm going to take a shower." After Starkweather shut the door to the bathroom. Mulder put the phone back to his ear. "AND ANOTHER THING-" Mulder pulled it away again with a sigh. "I feel the love," he grumbled. As Scully continued to berate Mulder for his thoughtlessness, Doggett's phone rang. He signaled Scully to quiet down. She ignored him. With a sigh, he put the phone to his ear while covering the other ear with his hand. "John Doggett... Dr. Kroeger... yeah... oh no..." Something Doggett's voice made Scully stop carrying on like a neglected housewife. "Scully?" Mulder dared to venture. He didn't get much further. "Shut up Mulder," she snapped at him, listening to Doggett's conversation. "How?" He pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened. "Uh-huh... uh-huh... when did this happened??? You've got to be kidding me. I thought you guys-" He sighed. "Okay... No... She's out of the country right now. I'll tell her tonight, though.... what? Oh... yeah, I, I guess I can come... uh-huh... sure... Thanks for calling. Uh-huh. G'bye," he hung up the phone with a slam. "Got-dammit." "Agent Doggett?" Scully tried to get his attention. "John?" Doggett stood up suddenly. Grabbed his cell phone and keys. "Listen, I have to go, I'll explain later. Before you light into Mul-duh again, find out what time they're gonna be flying in. I'll pick 'em up. Leave me a message on my cell. I'm gonna be out most of the day," he told her as he put on his coat. "John, what happened?" But he had already left the office.
TWA Flight 29 Mulder had claimed the window seat. He had entertained himself by watching the clouds zipping by. But eventually, he rested his head against the glass and dozed off. Starkweather waved for the attention for the flight attendant. She had a big toothy grin, reminding Starkweather of the horse she and Doggett stole to escape Bravo's advances. <<Only the horse was prettier>> Starkweather hid a grimace. "Could we get him a pillow, please?" Starkweather asked. "Aw, sure." She had a strong, nasally New Jersey accent. "Too bad. He's gonna miss the movie." "What movie are you showing?" "'Jerry McGuire'," she cooed. "Yeah, I'm sure he's going to cry about that," Starkweather mumbled as she took the tiny pillow from the horsy-faced attendant. "Can I get you anything else?" "Can I get a drink?" "Absolutely! We have Coke, Diet Coke, 7Up, Mellow Yellow, coffee, iced tea and orange juice." Starkweather's face fell. Not the kind of drinks she had in mind so she meekly settled for a coffee, lots of cream, and lots of sugar. As the lights dimmed, Starkweather tucked the pillow behind Mulder's head and settled back in her chair. Tried to relax. But was unable to because of a very persistent foot kicking the back of her seat. She stood up and glared at the child sitting behind her. "Wanna swim home?" she snapped at the little girl in the pink dress behind her. The child's eyes widened in terror. "Nooo..." "Then. Stop. Kicking. My. Chair." The child's face puckered up. "Mommy..." The mother was unsympathetic. "Well, I told you to behave and not kick the nice lady's chair. And when I looked out my window, I saw several naughty little girls being thrown into the ocean because they were kicking chairs," she gave Starkweather a conspirator's wink. Starkweather thumped back down in her seat, wearing a little grin even while thinking <<I am so NEVER having children. Ever.>> She tried to lose herself into the movie. Halfway through, she hoped that Mulder would wake up so they could heckle it together. But the man didn't budge. "I wonder..." she murmured. With a pickpocket’s ease, she slid her small hand into his coat pocket. Slipped out his cell phone. Scrolled through his phone number listings, squinting in the poor light. Took a wild guess and hit "Send." "Lux Carlos." "It's me." "Jerilyn? Why did are you calling on Mulder's phone? And how did you get this number? Don't tell me he was stupid enough to put my name in there." "Actually, he put "Carla Light" in. I guessed that it was yours." "But why are you calling Mulder's phone?" "Because," she said simply. "He came to take me home. He's not real happy at you right now, Lux." He swore. "Damn Mulder. Always complicating things." "I didn't complete my mission, Lux. And I won't. I completely re-neg on the entire deal. And there's nothing you can do about it. One of the conditions I made with Satish Joshi was that nothing was in writing and that I could back out anytime." "I didn't know this." "That was another one of my conditions." "Jerilyn, do you realize what you have done? What you've cost us?" "He's a weak old man, Lux. He's hardly a threat anymore. I would say he's almost senile. Losing his marbles. When I saw him, he was rambling about the movie 'Return of the Jedi.' He has delusions of grandeur. It's not a surprise he was displaced. I say forget the Cancer Man and concentrate your efforts on finding out who's really running the show." "Jerilyn, it's not your call on how to run the CIA's X-Files." "But dollars to doughnuts, it's going to be Mulder's call. I mean, come on, Lux. You really didn't think Mulder was going to agree to join the CIA's X-Files and not run the show, did you?" A silence. "Did you?" "I... I hoped he would be more of an advisor." "Think of him as a hands-on advisor. Face it Lux," she glanced over at her sleeping brother. "You just hired your new boss." Carlos exhaled a noisy sigh. "Okay. Fine. You win. As usual." "Lux, it's not about winning. It just makes sense. Mulder has more experience. He's been dealing with this kind of shit for most of his adult life. You've only been doing this for four, barely five years. What he knows can keep you alive." Carlos looked out his office window. He had a spectacular view of the towering Washington Memorial and the desecrated Pentagon. "Jerilyn... you know I didn't want you to go," he said softly. "I know. But you see, it was my choice," Starkweather said, just as gently. "I finally got to decide what to do with my life. As opposed to men in the shadows trying to maneuver me. I decided to accept your offer. Then I decided to back out. It was all my prerogative." "I never maneuvered you." "When you left, you made a decision about my life without consulting me." "I couldn't." "Yes. You could have. You chose not to." Carlos now looked at the carpet. "I left because I loved you," he said gruffly. Like a mother gently chastising an erring child, she said "If you loved me, you would have told me. You would have talked to me instead of allowing me to live a lie and think everything was alright. You left because you love the idea of me." When Carlos did not respond, in an even softer voice, she said, "You knew. The entire time. That that smoking son-of-a-bitch was Mulder and my natural father. I think we deserved to know that. You were just humoring me." "We suspected. But we didn't have any hard proof until you found that file in South Dakota and then demanded those tests to be run." When she was the one that fell silent, he burst out. "What do you want me to do, Jerilyn? Say I'm sorry? Kiss your ass? Do back flips? What??" "I know you're sorry. I don't want my ass kissed. And speaking off asses, you couldn't get your fat ass over your head, so back flips are out. All I want is just some closure. I just want something to finally end and be over. Have the past be in the past and stay there." Carlos sat down at his desk. "Okay, fine. Do what you need to do to get your closure." He braced himself for a barrage of torment. To be called every foul name under the sun. To have everyone of his sins dragged out and displayed. "Goodbye Lux." The phone line went dead. Lux Carlos smiled regretfully as he hung up the phone. "Goodbye Bailey-girl," he said softly, sadly.
Later... "Agent Doggett," Scully asked nicely. "Please stop pacing. It's making me nervous." She bounced William gently in her arms. "Isn't it Boo? Isn't it?" "Sorry," Doggett walked over to Scully. "Just antsy." He held his hands out for William and Scully gratefully relinquished her son over to his adopted "Uncle John." As Doggett let William play and drool over his watch, he looked up at Scully and asked her. "How am I gonna tell her about Charlie?" "You'll find a way," Scully started to say but had to suddenly dig into her pocket for a Kleenex. "Ah-choo!" "Agent Scully," Doggett said sternly. "I toldya I would pick up Mul-duh and Starkweather. You should be resting." "I am fine." "Bullshit." "There they are!" Scully pointed, relieved to have an excuse to make Doggett stop nagging her. Side by side, in wrinkled, travel-stained clothes, Mulder and Starkweather walked towards their partners. "Hey Slugger," Mulder said, taking William from Doggett before approaching Scully. "Still mad at me?" Mulder asked with a pout. Scully embraced him tightly and kissed the side of his neck, threatening to squish William. "Yes," she growled in his ear. Starkweather rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and shook her head. "So much for 'You had me at hello', huh Mulder?" Mulder slung his arm over Scully's tiny shoulders and balanced William on his hip. "Starkweather, as much as it is a joy to have watched 'Jerry McGuire, not once, but twice-" "They showed it three times," Starkweather informed Doggett. "But Spooky slept through the first showing." "- with you, now, your ass is officially back in the United States," he removed his arm long enough to reach into his back pocket to get Starkweather's FBI badge and ID out. As he handed it back to her, "- my work it finished here. I'm tired, I'm dirty, I'm smelly, I'm going home. G'night." Putting his arm over Scully again, he guided his little family towards the exit. Leaving Doggett and Starkweather to stand awkwardly alone in the middle of the busy airport. "Where's your luggage," Doggett finally murmured. "I don't have any." "Damn, you're not kidding when you say you travel light." His blue eyes crinkled up with amusement, the slight crow's feet becoming just a little more pronounced. "So..." Starkweather twirled a strand of her honey blond hair like a ditzy Valley girl. "Are you going to offer me a ride home or do I have to walk?" "Should make you walk after scarin' me shitless like that." "Can you be bribed with alcohol?" "Very VERY expensive alcohol." "Fortunately," Starkweather, with a wicked glint in her witchy eyes, held up a man's black billfold. "Big Brother is a VERY heavy sleeper." She opened it up, pulled out a Gold MasterCard. "I could pass as a Fox Mulder, couldn't I? His signature is just a scribble anyway, easy enough to forge." "He's gonna kill you," Doggett chuckled as they started to walk out of the airport. *********** Meanwhile, "Scully, have you seen my wallet?"
Later that night... Almost three hours and a bottle of Jack Daniels later, Doggett and Starkweather were still belly-up to the bar. The jukebox played softly in the background. Having lost track of time, they had nearly talked themselves hoarse. Doggett told her about the aftermath of the Arizona Slave Raid, as the press had labeled it and the media blitz following it. He told her about his sudden catapult into the public spotlight and his intense dislike for it. "God, I hope it's true about fame bein' only for fifteen minutes." "Well, at least that part of the objective was achieved. Making you into the Golden Boy so that when Skinner retires, the Senior Staff will do cartwheels to get you out of the basement and into the AD seat." Starkweather signaled to the bartender to refill her glass. "That reporter that interviewed us 'bout September 11? Alanda Klein? She keeps callin'. Wants an exclusive. A scoop. Or some damn thing." He frowned, then smiled at Starkweather when she burst out in laughter at the face he made. She told him everything she had been unable to. About finding out what the Admiral's true role was in the Eden Project and that it was his guilt about the murders he committed that drove him to assist Deep Throat in saving the infant test subjects. How the Cancer Man and not Bill Mulder was her and Mulder's father. About what happened when she and Mulder finally confronted him. She cringed, waiting for his judgment. When he said nothing, she said hesitantly, "Well?" "Well? Well what?" he shrugged. "I ain't God. I ain't gonna judge you. Besides, to be completely honest, I'm surprised you didn't blow him away. After all he did. Claimin' to love your mother but lettin' all this shit happen to her. Havin' this so-called cure that saved Scully from the same damn cancer that killed your mom, but not using it to save her." He then admitted softly. "I'm surprised 'cause if I ever met up with the bastard that killed Luke..." he trailed off. "You don't know until you are in that situation," Starkweather told him. "I didn't know until I saw him there. I wanted him dead. And now... I want him to rot. In prison, be it a federal pen or by one of his own design. It doesn't matter." She looked up at Doggett. "What aren't you telling me?" Doggett looked into his glass. Watched the ice melt in the liquor. "Oh Doc," he finally said. "It's bad news honey." "What is it?" He looked up at her. He saw a calm, placid, heart-shaped face. Her poker face. But he was learning her giveaways. He saw how her eyebrows crinkled just slightly. How she was nervously toying with her necklace. How her eyes flickered just slightly as she must have thought <<No! No more! No more bad news, please God!>> before firmly putting her game face on. "It's Charlie." "What happened?" "She... committed suicide this mornin'." Starkweather inhaled sharply. Put her hands to her face. Put them down again and reached for her drink. "How?" she said, sharper than she meant to. She took a swallow of Coca-Cola and Jack Daniels. "About a week ago... she was havin' trouble sleepin'. So the late Dr. Nyman prescribed ten milligrams of Ambien per night. After takin' Dr. Nyman's place, Dr. Kroeger continued with the same treatment... but instead of takin' them, she had been hoarding them." "Where? She was on suicide watch." "In a jar of paint. Nobody thought to look there." "No..." she said faintly. "Nobody would." "This morning... she woke up complaining of a sore throat. So they gave her a dose of over-the-counter cough syrup. About a tablespoon. In a small plastic cup. She used the cough syrup as a chaser to bolt about 10 little pills." Starkweather put her glass back down on the bar to cover her face again. Behind her hands, she groaned. "One hundred milligrams of a sleeping aid combined with codeine and ethyl alcohol will cause asphyxiation. Oh my God..." "Since you were out on the country, I went down to the hospital to take care of things. There's still funeral arrangements and stuff... but I got all of her personal effects. Her drawings and stuff..." She dropped her hands. "It was all for nothing." The despair in her voice was almost tangible. "Everything we did, everything we've done was for nothing." Doggett struggled for the right words. "We saved those women and kids. We burned down that lab. We saved Agent Scully." "They're still after William! They're still after Mulder! My mother and father are still dead... and Ben..." "But," Doggett argued. "You're still here. And Mulder and Scully and William. And..." He noticed that she wasn't listening to him. "Doc?" Her eyes were closed. "Sorry," she said weakly. "I'm listening to the music." Doggett gave her a puzzled look, then cocked his head to listen. "So close no matter how far "Never opened myself this way "Trust I seek and I find in you "Never cared for what they do
Scully's apartment The lights in the living room were off as Mulder sat in the armchair, holding Scully's hands. But he could still see the tears streaming down her face. Pale wet streaks down a pale creamy face, illuminated by the moon shining through the barred windows. "... and then... they put me into this chair thing... they put bars... through my wrists and ankles... kind of like the nails in the Crucifixion. And they had... pinchers... these small metal things that attached to my face, and stretched it out... that's why I had those scars on my face when... you found me." Mulder gripped her hands tighter, involuntarily. He didn't know what hurt worse. Reliving the experience or watching Scully weep because of it. But if it would help them figure out why so many people where after his spirited half-sister and his precious little son, he would relive it again and again and again. "... and the last thing I remember, after they... cut... my chest..." he lowered his head, staring at the carpet, his big socked feet and her small bare toes. "Was calling out your name. And then passing out. And then, waking up in a hospital bed." He looked up at her again. Reached out with his hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb. "See why I didn't want to tell you Scully?" he whispered. "It's true what I said to you that day. When you asked me if I had any idea what had happened to me. I saw it in your eyes. And it killed me. To see you... like this." "But you should have told me," she sobbed. "You should have told me because now I understand. I understand why you are so desperate to find out the truth about William and why you ran off to find Starkweather. Mulder," she slid off the footstool she was sitting on and knelt in front of him, putting her arms around his neck. "Nothing has changed. You still have to trust me." "I do trust you Scully. You're the only one," Mulder said seriously, resting his face against her soft neck, smelling her jasmine perfume. "My one in five-billion. Well... I guess you and William would be my two in five-billion." Despite herself, despite everything, she laughed. Mulder smiled at the sweet unexpected sound and held her tighter. "So, do I still have to sleep on the couch?" "Yes," she snuffled. "Damn."
"So close no matter how far "Never cared for what they do "Never opened myself this way
Saint Vincent's Memorial Hospital Tonight was her final display of her powers before going undercover. Or so Lily Stratford decided. She slipped past the federal marshals into Room 308, dressed in green hospital scrubs, with the body of a five-foot-nine, darkly tanned, green-eyed brunette. Nervously, she glanced over at the woman, sleeping in a chair in the corner. Samita Saint-Claire, presiding over her husband's damaged body. Cradling the toddler Kora-Lee in her arms while her adopted son Alexandru slept in a sleeping bag at her feet. Lily stared at the scene. The broken man in the bed. The faithful woman standing beside him, surrounded by products of their love. The fact that these products were adopted was irreverent. Lily felt a surge of envy. Wishing for the taste of normalcy she once had before a flash of bright light ruined her prom night and destroyed her life. <<We owe her this much>> Lily thought. Bravo was hopefully dead and Charlie definitely was. Echo was the fighter, she would carry on. But only Alpha could give what Delta deserved. Lily morphed back into herself. She placed her pale hand on Connor Saint-Claire's head. It took two minutes for her to heal his broken vertebrae and severed spinal cord. She morphed back into her disguise of a doctor. She walked past the guards again, smiling and telling them good night. She went into the locker room, changed from the scrubs into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Then she assumed the guise of Alex Krycek and left the hospital, with an airplane ticket to Oregon in her pocket. She hoped devoutly she would never see any of her sisters ever again.
"Trust I seek and I find in you "Never cared for what they say "So close no matter how far
Moe's Dive "That," Starkweather said as the song winded down. "Was our wedding song. Our first dance." "Oh..." Doggett wasn't sure what to say at first. Then he grinned a little. "Trust you to pick a heavy metal number for a wedding song." She laughed a little, shaking her head. "We got into a fight about it, shock surprise," she said, rolling her eyes as she nursed her drink. "I just love this song. It’s so powerful and… at the risk of sounding "cheesy" but I… I thought that song symbolized everything love was supposed to be… Ben wanted something a little less metal… I whined and got my way," she took a long draw from her drink. "We had a beautiful wedding though." Doggett hurt for her. He didn't know how in the hell she was holding up. She was so still. Just like that horrible day when Ben had been killed and he found her sitting alone in the chapel, still covered with her husband's blood. He wished she would cry, yell, scream. Something. Anything to show her humanity. "Doc," he asked her tentatively. "How can you handle all of this? All of this shit that's happenin' to you?" She smiled, like a trusting child, almost innocently. "As long as I can have the good memories, I can handle the bad." "You don't have to handle the bad by yourself you know." Starkweather felt tears threatening to overtake her. It took her a long time before she trusted herself to even speak and even then, her voice broke. "I know, Papa John..." she reached out and touched the top of his hand. "That's why you're part of the good." She stood up abruptly. "I'll be right back, she said huskily as she turned to run somewhere to hide. But Doggett placed his other hand on top the small hand she had placed over his. Starkweather froze. Doggett shook his head once, telling her not to go. She looked at his hand, and saw her wedding ring, still on his pinkie. She finally opened herself up in a way she never thought she would in front of anyone. Her shoulders bunched together and she covered her face with her other hand as she started to sob, finally experiencing the overwhelming sorrow she had kept putting off and putting off. Doggett pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. "Shh... shh..." he whispered. "It's okay, I'm here... I'm here..." From the corner of the bar, undetected by anyone, Lux Carlos stood up, left a twenty for the waitress and walked out. She was in good hands. He could take a night off. He got into his car and as he drove away, he began to surf through the radio stations. Lyrics from a popular rock song caught he ear that made him smile even though it wasn't his kind of music. "Hello my friend, we meet again When you are with me
Thirty miles outside of McLean, Virginia "We've seen our share of ups and downs "When you are with me "I just want to say hello again..." Her fiancé turned the radio in the car down. "That's one of Mama's favorite songs," he said, a slight Southern drawl still noticeable despite his constant attempts to eradicate it. "She's really into all those old rock bands. Creed. Aerosmith. Kid Rock. Or 'loud and angry music' as Dad puts it." Denise Adams smiled albeit a little nervously. "I have to admit," she said in her plain-Jane Midwestern cadence. "I can hardly picture the Assistant Director of the FBI head banging," she quipped. In fact, this particular Assistant Director was just downright scary. A bitch from the bowels from hell that you do NOT cross, was how one of her fellow cadets told describe her in between their classes at Quantico. Denise had only seen her in personal twice during her time at the FBI Academy and both times had been totally intimidated. Denise prided herself on her toughness, but this woman made a bed of nails look soft and fluffy. <<And she's going to be my mother-in-law. God help me.>> John Benjamin Starkweather glanced over at her. "You're not still nervous about meeting my parents, are you?" "Well, come on JB, let's be realistic. Your mom could very well be my boss in a few months..." "Denise, I don't think they're gonna stick you in the X-Files." He grinned. "Mom's saving that as an extra special punishment for Bailey if she REALLY pisses her off." When he saw the stricken look on her face, JB sighed. "I'm kidding, Denise. Mom doesn't mix family with work. What happens at work stays there, just like what happens at home stays at home. You don't have anything to worry about." Denise recalled the first time she had seen Assistant Director Starkweather. She was walking down the commons with Deputy Director Doggett, shortly before he retired. Both looked livid. The Deputy Director's jaw was set and his fists were clenched. The Assistant Director's was cursing a blue streak. "... when I find that sonofabitch, I am going to shove his testicles...." they had walked past Denise before she had a chance to hear where those particular testicles were going to be shoved. She didn't remember what the issue was that had both of them at Quantico and both of them pissed off as hell. All Denise remembered was how **tall** the Deputy Director was and how piercing his blue eyes still were for an old man. And how tiny the Assistant Director was, her brown hair streaked with gray pulled back in a tight bun. And how they both looked like a pair of ravens, he in a suit of jet black and her in a coal-colored dress. And how years and years ago, there had been a big controversy about the two of them, back when they used to make mountains out of molehills. Denise pitied the losers of anyone who fought against the two of them. She REALLY hoped that the retired Deputy Director and the Assistant Director liked her. Or else her marriage might be doomed from the start. Before she was even ready, she discovered that JB had pulled into the driveway of a small farmhouse. "Here we are," he said as he turned off the engine. He leaned over, "Relax," he said. "They smell fear." "You're not funny," Denise tried to suppress a smile. He kissed her cheek. "Come on." His twin sister and her roommate, Bailey came out of the house just as they were walking up towards the house. "Hey Bail," JB embraced his sister unselfconsciously. "I didn't know you were going to be home." It amazed Denise how a pair of twins could look so different. JB was tall, with dark brown hair and twinkly hazel eyes that Denise swore changed colors with his mood. Bailey was tiny, with piercing blue eyes and masses of curly soft blond hair. And her Southern accent was more pronounced than her brother's. "But," as she explained cheerfully to Denise once. "JB's a music major. So it makes sense for 'im to worry about enunciation. Me? I have a drawl because it pisses off my mother." And Bailey took full credit for introducing Denise to JB. She had dragged her to one of JB's concert rituals. Denise knew very little about Bailey's brother except for the numerous disparaging remarks made at his expense. But that didn't mean anything. Bailey ridiculed everyone. Still, Denise was not expecting a tall, soft-spoken and incredibly good-looking man to take the stage and perform several Italian arias with such passion and precision. She fell in love on the spot. With his voice, anyway. She learned to love the rest of him as time went on. That concert where she first saw him had also been the second time she saw the Assistant Director. She was sitting next to a petite woman with blue eyes and fading red hair. "What is the Assistant Director doing here?" Denise had whispered. Bailey sighed and confessed her secret. "'Cause she's our mother." Bailey dropped her last name and went as "Cadet Fox" at the Academy so no one could accuse her of trying to gain favors. Only Denise knew her 'shameful secret'. "Trust me," Bailey had said to Denise after she told her as Denise scoffed that her family couldn't be **that** weird, "if you only KNEW half of the shit my family's been involved. Hell, three-fourths of it's documented in the X-Files." Still, she encouraged the romance between Denise and her brother and positively gloated when the engagement was announced. "Love.... exciting and new," she crooned in JB's ear. "You need to stop stealing from Mama and get your own material." "She's old and senile, she forgets that she came up with it first," Bailey said cheerfully. "Welcome to "the Amityville Horror" by the way," and with a flourish, she presented the house behind her. "It doesn't look as bad as you made it out to be," JB frowned. "I think it's cute," Denise approved the cozy little farmhouse. "Yeah, but Mama's already bitching about the commute to DC, shock, surprise." JB groaned. "I told her so." "Why did she move out here if she doesn't like the drive?" "To entertain our father," Bailey drawled. "Every since he retired, he has been drivin' her up the wall. Oh, hey JB, guess what else they got." "Oh no..." JB cringed. "They didn't. Tell me they didn't." "'Green Acres is the place for me...'" she sang. "Bail, you need to lay off the 'Nick at Nite'," he grumbled. "Crabass," she told him. "Come on, they're down at the barn. And hey, Denise, look at the bright side... maybe the battle ax will fall off and therefore solving your mother-in-law problems." "BAILEY!!!" JB snapped at her. "What?" she batted her crystallic blue eyes angelically. He knew where to hit her. "You are just like Mama." "That was LOW, John Benjamin. Really really low." The twins and Denise could hear the bickering before they even reached the barn. "Are you out of your mind???" "Come on, Doc, it's easy, just put your foot in the stir-up and grab the horn and pull yourself up." "I am NOT getting on that damn thing. This is your baby. Not mine." "Aw c'mon. I said I would teach you how to ride someday when we had time." "I was humoring you." "Humor me some more. Get on the damn horse." "I hate you." Like the naughty children they once were, JB and Bailey peered around the barn. Denise followed them as they crept along the fence line so they could continue to spy on their parents. "Good to know that our FBI training hasn't been wasted," Bailey quipped in a whisper. In between the slots of the fence, Denise gained a completely different view of her future-in-laws. Starkweather had climbed uncertainly into the horse's saddle. Instead of her sleek black suits, she was in a pair of well-loved jeans and a cotton t-shirt. She was holding the reins in one hand nervously and pushing her glasses up with her other hand. Freed from its infamous bun, Starkweather's shoulder-length hair blew gently in the breeze. Despite the crow's feet and the silver streaks in her sable hair, she looked far younger than fifty-five. "Dad said when he met her, she was a blond," Bailey snorted. "I can't picture Mama with blond hair. It just seems wrong." As for Doggett, he still stood tall, but he looked much more relaxed, also in jeans and a simple t-shirt, holding the palomino's bridle. Over the years, his hair color had faded slowly away, although, much to JB's relief, the hair itself stayed firmly intact on his head. Doggett was also saddled with glasses, having resisted laser-corrective surgery. "I'm too old," he had grumbled when it was brought up. "I'm not into innovative technology anymore. Just as long as my TV works." Starkweather held a different opinion of her glasses. "I look intelligent and distinguished with them on," she had said tartly. "So fuck off." But they both looked incredibly happy, despite the arguing. "I don't know how to run this thing," she said fretfully. "You sound like an old woman, Doc." "I AM an old woman, you asshole. Get up here." Doggett swung himself into the saddle and took the reins from her. Starkweather leaned against his chest and closed her eyes as she felt his arm wrap around her waist as he guided the horse around the yard. Denise felt JB's arms wrap around her. "Think we'll have that when we're old?" she asked him, not nearly afraid of her prospective in-laws as she had been. "They went through hell to get to where they are now," JB said quietly. For once Bailey was serious. "But they still love each other," she said firmly. "And nothing else matters." --- THE END ---
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