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Title: Starkweather: Inheritance Rating: R (language, content) Spoilers: Seasons 1-8 is fair game Categories: M, XHAC Subject: New Character, MSR, pre-s9 mytharc, Scully/Mulder/Doggett/Reyes/Other friendship, Doggett/Other Archived: www.geocities.com/phantmoftheopera/index.html, www.fanfiction.net, www.gossamer.org, 2002 Spooky Awards, Ephemeral, and Stranger Than Fiction, The Official X-files Forum, XFMU, EXMC, and XFC. Any other archives, please ask.
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Email: Suicidal_mickey_mouse@hotmail.com for Spookykat, or Scully3776@aol.com for Scully3776. Good, bad, or indifferent, we live for it!
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Alpha, Bravo and Echo, AKA Dr. Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, CIA Special Agent Boneventure Merchant, Detective Edward Carrillo, Mayor Charlie Swanson and CIA Agent Lux Carlos are the creation of Scully3776.
Sharon Kuhn, Blade Connor, Davis Justin Leo, Phineas Adler, Judeth Fische, Bunny O’Dell, Lily Stratford, Joe Shepherd, Isobel Ibarra, Bellamy Wade, Manuel Ibarra, Rho, Melanie Doggett Davis, Eleanor Demere Doggett, Steven Lee Doggett, Laura Anne Strand, and Christina Renee Doggett Strand are all creations of Spookykat
Everything else should belong to us if Chris Carter and his 1013 production team want to do their characters justice and get their heads outta their ass. Since his team and he came up with the idea in the first place then I guess they belong to him <heavy, regretful sigh> and the ever-tasteful FOX network.
Authors’ note: We took creative liberty and opted to squeeze an extra year in between season 8 and 9, but beyond that, all attempts are made to remain consistent with the continuity of the show. Scully3776 had a huge part in the plot-construction and basic outline, but Spookykat has written most of the story.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE… Prologue:
Where do we come from?
That question is one every very young child asks. One day, not long from now, William Christopher S. Mulder will ask that question. Probably before he can pronounce his full name.
What will his parents tell him?
His mother would probably give the biological run-down of what happens when a child is conceived. His father would probably say something his mother would completely disagree with.
I watched him come into this world.
I watched as things—human, and yet very much unearthly—came in droves as if this cabin had something beaconing them to his birth place.
As if a Star of David was lit over it.
I heard his mother beg me to protect him from them.
She doesn’t know…his father doesn’t know…his aunt doesn’t know…
Nobody can know…
That I think I am that which she begged me to protect him from.
Where do we come from is the first question we ask before we are taught that questions are not polite.
Where are we going is the last question we ask when it is too late to care what is polite.
It is our inheritance.
*** Badlands National Park, Nevada 1:03am, [insert day/time] *** Sharon Kuhn seemed to be created for her job. She loved the outdoors, and after getting a Masters in Forestry, she found work in the Nevada Badlands. This being her first year as an intern, she was stuck on the graveyard shift.
After quieting down a few campers who had drunk too much beer, her gray eyes panned as far as she could see of her territory. She drove her 4runner past some campsites, wondering if any one of these strangers could be siblings, cousins, grandparents, or even parents. Being adopted, that thought was always in the back of her mind when she met someone new, or when she passed strangers on the street.
And wouldn’t it be cool if her dad was David Duchovny. No—no it wouldn’t. That would be just plain gross! David Duchovny was hot!
She never found out who her real parents were. When she was 17, searching for her vaccination papers for a trip she was planning to France, she found her birth certificate hidden in her Grandparents’ secretary.
Since that day, she had made efforts to find them only to come up empty. She hired private detectives, searched the Internet, coming up fruitless. And it would be no surprise to her if the sunrise didn’t bring new information.
Just to make one more round, she went off to the area of the park where folk-singers held concerts, protestors held rallies, and scientists dug up evidence, and there were cars upon cars.
This was the dead of winter. Cars upon cars aren’t here in this cold voluntarily.
But for some reason, Sharon felt the urge to flow with the stream of traffic. The same impulse that drives you and me to sleep and eat compelled her to continue down to the valley with the traffic.
She was puzzled but she wasn’t nervous. Soon, she found out that she didn’t have to press the gas pedal. She was sure that minutes—hours—must be passing, but if they were, her wristwatch and the clock on her dash weren’t showing any sort of indication that any kind of time had passed.
She untwisted her braid and let a cascade of chestnut brown hair fall down, and shrugged into her patrol jacket. It was getting pretty cold. Suddenly, not quite sure of how she got there, she climbed out of her car, and saw that she was in a valley full of people.
Full of people with whom she somehow felt a strong, inexplicable bond. Not all had her chestnut brown hair. Not all had gray eyes. But there was something else that was out of place—there was none of the usual raccoons, deer, other nocturnal animals around that should be there. Maybe it was the crowd. She felt a sense of belonging that had never been hers before.
Then a man about her age, wearing a small silver Pentagram caught her eyes with a completely awed expression on his face. He wouldn’t have been attractive except that the awed expression made his face absolutely glow.
The wind picked up to hurricane force. The ground quaked, and a bright light passed over the valley.
The crowd was gone. The valley was gone.
Sharon Kuhn and the wearer of the Pentagram were no longer on this Earth. *** Meanwhile… Church Falls Reyes’ Residence ***
Monica Reyes was grateful to be climbing the stairs to her loft. As much as she loved her work, it hadn’t afforded her much time, especially since her partners, Special Agents John Doggett and Dr. Jerilyn Starkweather had taken some time off after their previous case. She was glad John and Jerilyn got a break, as long as they didn’t spend too much of the break together, of course.
Not that she was jealous, and she knew neither of them would ever hurt her purposefully, but still, her coffee-brown eyes were seeing green.
Just a little.
She pushed those thoughts out of her head as she fished out her keys and unlocked the door. As she tried to open it she noticed something sliding across.
With it being cold out, she still hadn’t taken off her leather gloves, so with caution, she picked up the envelope. This was an unmarked vanilla envelope containing a map…a slip of paper with a number, a VHS tape, and another plain off-white business envelope inside with her name printed on it. The envelope was too heavy to contain just a piece of paper.
Cautiously, she looked at the map. It was a map of the North American continent, and had a huge blue circle around New Mexico and Nevada. Along with that, it had a red dot in Arizona, and another red dot marked in Oregon, and green dots marking about a half a dozen sites—none of them near big cities.
She opened the business envelope and in the same font the envelope was in, single spaced without paragraph breaks was a single page, and a .Zip file.
“Agent Reyes
There are those of us with extreme interest in keeping your division in the FBI open. However, there are others of us who are firmly opposed to it. Your partners are very close to too much truth. Many are willing to go to any extremes necessary to destroy the dynasty.
And then there is me.
I have no particular interest in whether or not the x-files division remains open. My only interest lies in the usefulness of the founder of your division.
If you value your job, if you value your partnerships, if you value your life, please proceed on this investigation with extreme caution. For further information, I will contact you at a later time.
Blade”
She tried to push it out of her mind and keep the package on the back burner.
She booted up her computer and waited for the .Zip to upload. It was a list of adoption agencies, a list of family lawyers, a list of recent abductees, and abductees who had been returned twenty years ago.
Reyes discovered after a quick database research that a large percentage of the family lawyers had been associated with bribery and extortion, and charged with aiding black market adoptions. An alarming percentage of the agencies all had histories with these firms, and all of the recent abductees had been adopted from the black market with the help of these law firms.
“Oh God…if one of these abductees from the 70s are my parents…” Reyes mumbled, “I’m next.”
Then, trying to make as much since out of the situation as she could before she called the cavalry, she cooked stir-fry from her freezer, heated water for a mug of warm tea, and popped the tape into her VCR. On her television was a disturbing scene, of parking lots filled with charred cars still containing drivers.
And the next scene wasn’t any less disturbing. It was in a desert area…someplace definitely in the Southwest from the landscape. The camera had zoomed in on a tent, and a blue dodge pick-up had pulled up to the tent. Reyes didn’t pick up her fork as she saw a woman, pale and covered and blood, was brought to a common area. There, she saw a familiar face. A boy wearing glasses who looked about ten years old.
This boy not even old enough to shave was being held by two men of great size and strength. They shouted in a language that Reyes couldn’t decipher, which was apparently a command, for the boy held his hand over the woman’s head and abdomen.
It was as if he had erased the cause of all her symptoms. The blood, everything was gone, as if it had never existed.
The same two men who had brought her in then had taken her back to the truck and stopped the truck at another large tent nearby.
The tape ended.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, Monica took a couple of quick bites of stir-fry and a long gulp of tea, and dialed the numbers of her partners.
Starkweather came first. Doggett lived the closest, but he was still at the office when she called. The old apartment she shared with her late husband just held prisoner too many painful memories. She saw the TV all cued up for the VCR.
“What? A movie with no popcorn?” Starkweather smirked. Reyes was in no mood to start a pissing contest, so she chose to ignore the comment.
“Thanks for coming over at such a short notice. This is the stuff on the .zip file…” she said, plunking down a thick file of loose-leaf paper, “this is the note I got…” she was careful to pick it up with the tip of her pen so no prints would show.
“What the hell is this? Some Tolkien wannabe? And who the hell signed it? I don’t remember that name ever coming up in the x-files before.”
“That’s what I can’t figure out either.” Reyes said shaking her head, “I guess I’ll find out when they contact me again.”
“See what working with FBI broads do to ya, Papa John?” Starkweather teased as FBI Special Agent John Doggett graced the doorway. “Fashionably late is only for girls.”
“You better get away from us, John.” Reyes picked up, “you’ll be PMS’ing before you know it.”
“In New York…it was the other way around,” Doggett grumbled. “Just don’t make me watch any soap operas or talk about hormones, and this will be a walk in the park.”
“Somebody dropped something off inside my door today, John.” Reyes said, biting her lip. “I called my landlord, looked at the security surveillance camera and there’s nobody coming here at all today. Jeri, show him the .zip stuff.”
“Hot off the presses.” Starkweather said, gesturing to the pile of papers.
“Then I got this video-tape.” Reyes said as she turned it on.
Starkweather and Doggett just stood at the static, unable to say anything for a while after it was over.
Starkweather just kept looking down at the printed loose-leaves, up at the screen, down at the map, and back at Reyes.
“I’d like to know how Gibson Praise got the magic touch.” Starkweather finally managed to croak out.
“Look, I know you guys have been through a lot lately,” Reyes began, “and I really hate to put you under more stress, but I honestly have no idea what to make of this map. I have no clue what the letter means, either. The only thing I can figure so far is that the tape is connected with the map, and Gibson Praise is somehow connected to the abductions.
Starkweather began slowly. “The map’s got something to do with abductees, and since two of these are known UFO hotbeds, it’s a safe bet…I wonder if there’s any way to find out if these abductees are taken at random or if there’s a connection.”
“I can see what I can do about getting somebody to analyze the map.” Reyes offered.
“All we gotta do is connect the dots and figure a pattern.” Doggett graveled.
“…and what it all has to do with Gibson Praise.” Reyes frowned.
“Then if we’re going to stop the next abduction, first thing to do is to find the common thread of the recent abductees.” Starkweather offered.
“Mon,” Doggett started cautiously. “I know Mul-duh and Dana said that they couldn’t come on cases anymore…but on this one, I think they need to know. They are both former abductees…”
“Regardless,” Reyes said, “we’ll show this to Skinner first thing in the morning.”
“In our office.” Doggett said bitterly. “We can’t get him to be straight with us in his.”
“Then once we let Skinner in on this,” Starkweather added, “Somebody will get the requisitions, somebody else follow up any leads we’ve got. I don’t think we need to let Dana and Mulder know about this till we find any evidence that Will’s in any danger.” Doggett shook his head in protest.
“I really don’t wanna upset them needlessly. Besides, if Mulder finds out where we’re going, he’s gonna come along one way or another.”
“Jerilyn,” Reyes began, “what do you remember about Gibson Praise?”
“If the files are accurate, then he’s a little boy who received his intelligence from…um…” then it hit her. Mulder had said the same thing to her when they first met. She barely whispered, “aliens.” She paused thoughtfully, and then cleared her throat. “He was last seen in the investigation into Mulder’s death in what appeared to be Mulder’s company.”
“That’s one thing that bothered me about that investigation. Why wasn’t he booked with kidnapping?” Reyes asked, taking another sip of her tea.
“If I pressed charges against Mulder,” Doggett said, rubbing his hands across his forehead, “then I’d have to drop my investigation into Kersh. I think a lot of people didn’t want anyone looking into that little boy’s disappearance. Too much would be at stake if he was found. I had to pick my own battles…and I just couldn’t do that to Dana…” his voice trailed off.
“John, Jeri…I need to let them know what’s going on. If it was your kid in danger, wouldn’t you wanna do anything in your power to protect them? Besides, they might give us leads on this case.”
“Low blow, Monica.” Starkweather and Doggett echoed.
“I’ll call Dana first thing in the morning.” Reyes offered.
“And if I’m leaving for Oregon first thing,” Doggett said as he stood up, “I better get goin’.”
“Yep…busy day for me too.” Starkweather sighed. “I gotta come up with some way to keep my dumb-ass brother here. Skinner or the Gungeeks are gonna slip up and tell him for sure.” She followed him out.
“Stawk-weddah…I don’t want you goin’.” Doggett said in the elevator.
“Doggett,” Starkweather wouldn’t even look at him. “You might as well stop plate tech tonics.”
“You’re at RISK, Doc.” He placed a hand protectively on her shoulder. “If you get on that plane with me tomorrow, you’re putting yourself in danger, you’re putting ME in danger. I’m sorry, but that’s just plain dumb.”
“Jesus, Papa John,” she whined, turning around to face him. “You’re starting to sound like Ben…my dad…Mulder…everyone else who has made my life a living hell. Mulder’s the only one of those living, what does THAT tell you” she added bitterly. Doggett took his hands in hers reassuringly, but said nothing, so she continued. “When you, me, everybody joined the FBI, we were damn well aware of the possibility of getting killed in the line of duty. This is not a fucking suicide mission, Doggett. It’s an investigation into missing people with links into the paranormal. Besides…” she added, pulling her hand away to fish her keys out of her purse, and then looked up at him with a sardonic grin, “I still owe Mulder hell for something, don’t I?”
“You know I trust you as an investigator.” He nervously dug his hands into his pockets, as if to keep them under control.
“Then prove it and let me come.”
“I don’t know ‘bout you, Doc, but after today, I could sure use a drink tonight. And no, Lucy, you can’t be in the show.”
“You have a bad Spanish accent,”
“Still…we gotta figure out somethin’”
“Yeah, maybe we can put our heads together and figure out a way to keep my big dumb brother from crashing the party.”
“Or figure out a way for him to help us out.”
“Who are you and what did you do with John Doggett?”
“Come on,” he said, putting a companionable arm around her shoulder, “I know this little pub around the corner.”
Blade Connor sat silently in his car. His brown eyes surveyed the entire scene unfolding from his rear view mirror on the other side of the street with his camera ready.
He knew that the pretty brunette FBI agent had gotten his package. He knew also that it had piqued her interest enough for her colleagues to be called to her apartment after hours. He hoped that she was smart enough to know how to handle the information, and quick enough not to get caught with it.
The light almost undetectable click of the flash-less camera made the only sound in the car. He turned on his auditory equipment, crouched out of view, put on the headset, and waited for clues.
10:13pm The Handlebar Downtown Church Falls, VA “Gimme another round, Mike.” Doggett said to the bartender.
“So what do we do about Mulder?”
“Too bad Scully would never speak to either of us again if we killed him,” she said grinning wickedly.
She swallowed a third of her Jack Daniel’s and coke in one gulp.
“You said it, I didn’t.” Doggett answered.
“I shouldn’t say this…I feel like a lightening bolt’s gonna strike me, and Ben’s spirit is going to haunt me for the rest of my life…but God…sometimes…I’m glad he’s gone. I think Ben would’ve made a divorce a living hell.”
“Yeah…” Doggett said, taking a gulp of his Coors. “If what Filitza said was true…he would have. Think you would have gone through with the divorce if it hadn’t happened like that?”
“Honestly, I know I had the divorce papers drawn up and everything…but I don’t think I would be able to seal the deal…least this way, St. Peter sealed it for me.” She got uncomfortably quiet and suddenly her J.D. and coke was fascinating.
“I don’t wanna badmouth the dead…and I know you loved him… but Ben was a prick. From what Monica told me, she said he always thought me and Mul-dah both were getting in his way of keeping you bound to ‘im.”
Her gaze still never left her glass. “So what about you and Reyes…you asked her to join you on the x-files for a reason. Did you guys have something going?”
“Yeah…” he admitted. “For a while…it was nice. I think it was fucked up as hell…but nice.”
“Who’s healthy?” Starkweather said as she shrugged, finally not afraid to look at him.
Doggett nodded and took another gulp of his beer, “She was clingy, and I was usin’ her as a crutch. And I did—do love her. I think it mightta lasted for a while…” he took another nervous gulp of his beer. “Then Brad Follmer came back into the picture, and we just…stopped…”
“Reyes and Follmer?!” Starkweather guffawed.
“That’s news to you?” He said looking at her in surprise.
“You, Reyes and Scully are the only ones at the FBI who play with me, and we’re not exactly gossipers.”
“Well…yeah…true…”
“Do you think you made a mistake when you asked Reyes to come?”
“No. She was good then. And she’s been good for the x-files. Besides. Weirdness is our business. And who else is better at the weird stuff than Reyes? Do you think you made a mistake when you married Ben?”
“No…he was my soul mate. He just didn’t have enough common sense to trust me. Barbara—is she your soul mate?”
“What the hell good does a soul mate do if you’re not on friendly terms with ‘em?”
“Good point.”
“Think you’ll ever be happy with anyone again?”
The Dave Matthews Band whined over the jukebox, and in the dim light of the bar, they held their gaze.
“I think…I’m already happy with someone again.” Doggett blurted out, and then immediately admonished himself. “I’m sorry…that was outta bounds,” he mumbled, ducking his head.
you come out
at night
“Doggett…” she
said carefully, voice trembling, lifting his face so her eyes could meet hers
again, “You didn’t say anything wrong…and…I think you know the rumors as well
as I do. But I need to watch my step if the x-files division is staying put.”
“And you just
buried your husband two months ago…”
“I know…” she
whispered, inching closer to him now, bending underneath the booth to get her
purse, unaware at first that his forehead was touching hers. When she realized
this, she didn’t back away.
“Then why the hell aren’t I driving you home right now?”
“You tell me…”
Then finally their lips touched. Apparently of its own volition, Doggett let his tongue explore her mouth, and she gasped in surprise, but welcoming the entrance. They wrapped their arms around each other, not breaking the contact or loosing the intensity of the kiss. Her hands were racing up and down his back, raking through his hair, his caressing her face.
“What the hell did we just do?” Doggett panted, and they recoiled away from each other. Starkweather couldn’t even look at him.
“I think I better call a cab.” She muttered as she bolted off the stool she was sitting on and pushed through the crowds to get out of the bar.
The freezing rain had evolved into light flakes and flurries began to scatter on the sidewalks and pavement. She dug her cell phone out of her purse and hit the instant-dial for a cab and gave them the address. She wrapped her arms around her and stood like that, rocking back and forth, but it wasn’t to keep warm.
Inside the bar, Doggett’s shoulder’s slumped for a second in defeat as she practically flew outside and he paled. “My God what the fuck did I just do?” he muttered.
“Doc!” Doggett yelled, scootching out of the booth and leaving a twenty, “Hey, Doc!” He shouted, running out into the street.
“Doc…look, I’m sorry about back there…I went over the line…” he started.
Silence.
“Honey, you gotta talk to me,” he pleaded, “We’ve gotta work tomorrow. We’re going to Oregon. I wish I could take that back, but there’s nothin’ to do in Oregon but talk.”
“It’s not like we aren’t involved because of some damn hang-ups like Moose and Squirrel,” she said sucking in a deep breath, and turned to look up at him. “No matter how much I may have…liked that…I just buried my husband two months ago…and even if I hadn’t, we can’t do a goddamn thing. They’d use it against us…too much is at risk here.”
“There’s always risks. And for what it’s worth…I’m ready for ‘em,” he said softly forcing her gaze to meet his.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a widow.”
“Your marriage was dead long before he was, and you know that. Luke locked everyone away from me. Seems to me we’ve got two choices here. We can let the ghosts beat us down…or let them rest in peace. That’s all we want for our dead isn’t it?”
“What the hell are we going to do?” She took his hand in hers for strength.
“We’re adults, we can handle this.” Doggett reminded her, putting his arms around her.
“Handle what?” she said, leaning into him, “sneaking around or trying not to be too obvious at work?”
Then he engulfed her in a more-than-companionable embrace and tenderly kissed her again, soft as velvet this time that left no promises for anything more than an affirmation.
“This is ok, isn’t it?” He asked, breaking away, running her fingers through her hair, she caressed his face, and wiped her lipstick smudge from his lips.
“I’m just going to need time to get used to it.”
“Ben’s not going to come out and jump at us from the shadows.”
“In our line of work…don’t be so sure.”
He chuckled and put an arm around her, “You can be so God damn stubborn.”
“Pot meet kettle…” she purred. “Can you drive me home?”
*Later that night Scully Residence*
The call that Deputy Mayor Mulder got from John Doggett today stirred mixed emotions. He had spent his entire career at the FBI chasing after his sister. Over the past year, he traded in his dingy office with one desk for a plush office down at city hall, with a 10-foot ceiling that was IMPOSSIBLE to keep pencils up in.
He would trade his plush office for the dingy basement in the J. Edgar Hoover building in a heartbeat. He hated not being in hot pursuit of the Truth after which he spent his entire adult life chasing. Conspiracies, abduction cover-ups, and other things that go bump in the night never held a candle to a regular nine-to-five paper-pushing job.
“Who’s turn was it to bring home dinner?” Scully asked, coming out of the room she temporarily set up as a nursery.
“Got an interesting call from John Doggett today.” Mulder didn’t see any reason to put this matter off. “Sounds like they’re starting an investigation in Bellefleur. Scully, I need to look into this.”
“Mulder,” Scully was adamant. “Who knows what kind of bloodbath will come to our doorstep with this investigation? I will not let you put me or my family in danger, and you know that.” She hissed. Then she softened. “As long as William is here, that means you too.”
“Scully,” He insisted softly, not unmoved by her last words, “I think looking into this is the only way I’m gonna be able to protect you, William, Starkweather, AND myself.”
“I thought we talked about this.” Scully said, lips curled in an argumentative frown. “I thought you were ready to settle down and stop chasing after the Truth when William came. If you’re planning on turning him into a paranormal investigation, please drop me a note on your way outta town.” She seethed.
“Dearest Dana” he scoffed, “I’d love to stay and play Rob and Laura Petrie, but you, William, Starkweather, and everyone in our path is at risk because of what we know.” He fumed. He circled around her, trying to make her see his side of reason. “All it takes is following a few leads, and in a week, I think I can come back.”
“Mulder, don’t you DARE do this!” She was near screaming now, “I don’t think I could take it if William was in one of those folders. I can’t let him share—” she stopped herself short.
“Samantha’s gone!” He barked, “Gone because my father chose his quest over his family, and I will be DAMNED if I let our son go through any kinda hell like that. I don’t think I could live with myself if I let something happen to him because I stood by and let them take him and turn him into a lab rat. I won’t give him that kind of life.” He fumed, and took his leave before Scully could say anything in response.
Two hours later…
In an angry huff of thunder, Mulder had driven to his apartment. Almost from the moment William was born, the best way to handle his origins was a tender subject that was rarely breached. But when it was approached, it always ended in a heated argument.
He ordered pizza, and spent about a half an hour brooding in front of the Television, working out possible points he missed. Chastising himself for not coming up with them in the heat of an argument.
Deep down though, he knew they were fighting about how to handle the possibilities because he needed to make it easier on both of them for him to leave when the time came. They were still terrified of the truth. Not that he’d ever leave unless she gave the word or unless it was for their protection.
Mostly, they fought because they were both right. William was a Catch-twenty-two. Either live with their heads in the sand trying to give William a normal life, or risk everything trying to find the key to his protection.
If he went for a walk, maybe he’d clear his head.
He left his apartment and just began to walk. There was an old pawnshop a few blocks away with a piece in the window that caught his eye—a white-gold charm in the form of an anchor.
He bought it, stuffed it into his pocket, and hailed a taxi, ordering him to stop at Scully’s apartment. It wasn’t where he intended to stop the taxi, but driving past her neighborhood on the way to the gunmen’s he couldn’t leave this unsettled.
She was in her bathrobe, but hadn’t fallen asleep yet when she answered the door. The puffy redness and stuffed up nose told him she had been crying.
“Scully, just came by to get a few things…sorry if I woke you or Will…”
Scully only nodded. Her lips were pursed in stubborn defiance.
He approached her cautiously.
“I can’t promise I’m not gonna go with them.” He could see her resolve melting in her face. “There are too many questions.”
“And you’re ready to risk everything for the answers, aren’t you?” Scully hissed.
“Not everything.” He said, and went into the bathroom to get his shaving kit and in the bedroom to get his briefcase.
God, he carried a briefcase now.
He put the small bag from the pawnshop on her bed.
He scrambled through a drawer in her nightstand for a pad and tore a piece of paper off, got a pen from his pocket and scribbled a note:
Dearest Dana,
Hope you like it, ‘cause I can’t return it. If I’m Ahab, then you’re the anchor keeping me from being swallowed. I wanna be able to play Rob and Laura Petrie as long as I can. To guarantee that, I think I need to look for these answers.
He placed the note on the bed next the paper bag. Without a word, he left.
Mulder took his wallet out and traced his fingers along the one picture he had of Scully and William taken right after he was born. Like any parent, he knew he had to protect them. His little boy was not going to spend his life as a valuable piece of the puzzle, nor as a child with unusual qualities. He was going to do everything he could to make sure his little boy spent his life growing up as a normal kid.
Even if it cost him the trust of the one person he ever dreamed of sharing any kind of life with.
Mulder’s train of thought flooded back to the day Agent Doggett had attacked him in the hospital before Will was born. He had resented the man that day for not even giving the truth a chance. Now Mulder was beginning to understand. John Doggett wanted his little boy to be safe from being chased down again.
He was chased out of his reverie by the phone ringing.
“Mulder, do us all a favor, and don’t make any plans to go to Bellefluer till this investigation is finished.”
“Starkweather,” He snorted, “What ever makes you think I’ll tag along?”
“Because you live for making my life more difficult. If you come with, Scully’s gonna spend all day in the office sulking, and that means double work for me. Look, I’m serious this time. A civilian can’t just join in on interrogations and investigations and fieldwork. You have absolutely no kind of protection if things get outta hand.”
“So what else is new? Look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can’t just twiddle my thumbs…I gotta…”
“Fuck you, Mulder.” She interrupted. “Who says I’m looking out for you?! I’m worried about ME here. If Kersh is gonna see that office as more than just a vehicle for your personal crusade, then you can’t be a part of it anymore. I need this job, Mulder—now more than ever. I gotta have something to put my back up against. Samantha was my sister as much as she was yours. I’m prepared to die before I let anything happen to Boo. Doggett and Reyes have proven already that they’re willing to make that sacrifice for Will with me, so please…” she released a ragged frustrated sigh, “just let this one go.”
“Jerilyn,” Mulder insisted quietly, “this isn’t about the x-files, or any damn personal crusade. It’s about protecting my family.”
Starkweather could tell she was fighting a loosing battle, but she had to make one last ditch effort. "If a restraining order is what it takes to keep you away from that town, then I’ll get one. I’m not above shooting you to stop you from doing something this astronomically stupid,” she seethed. “I don’t give a rat’s flying ass about what happens to you out there, but I’ll be damned if I let you put Scully through hell again or leave that little boy. Believe me, Mulder, the best way you can protect your family is by staying with them in D.C.”
“What about you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“Neither do you. Please…just don’t tag along, ok?”
“I’ll think about it.” Mulder finally said. For the first time since Starkweather had known the man, he sounded defeated. Somehow, though, Starkweather wouldn’t have been surprised to see him in Bellefluer.
*The next morning…
9:30 am J Edgar Hoover Building
Deputy Director Kersh’s Office
“Agent Doggett, I understand that these adoptive children are missing and that this black market adoption ring must be brought to justice here, but you must understand that the FBI simply doesn’t have the resources right now. The September 11th disaster has stretched our personnel and company time and budget to the envelope. The X-Files office is a luxury this bureau just can’t afford right now.”
“Deputy Director,” Doggett persisted, “there is good reason to believe that this investigation is crucial. Two of our own agents were both adopted within the timeframe of our investigation. I’m willing to bet that any agent in the bureau in his or her thirties who was also adopted is at risk. Because of this, the bureau is directly effected; therefore the manpower, technology, and funds will be effectively spent in the investigation into this matter.”
“Which two agents?”
“Agents Reyes and Starkweather.” Kersh answered him by busying himself with the paper on his desk. “Give me forty-eight hours.” Doggett finally pleaded. I think you can spare 3 agents, 3 plane tickets, and 3 hotel rooms for 2 nights.”
“Agent Doggett, you’re walking the line here. If this investigation proves nothing, I will not waste anymore bureau resources on the x-files division. Understood?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Meanwhile, in AD Skinner’s Office…
“So if Gibson Praise is healing these people, then where do you think they’re being taken?” Skinner queried.
“With all due respect, sir,” Starkweather answered, “I think the real question is why these people are being healed.”
“Any theories?”
“It’s possible that they’re being healed as test subjects for experiments.” Then misquoting the line from the Princess Bride, “He likes everybody healthy before he hurts them.”
“And Mulder and Scully? What do they have to say about this?”
“Scully and Reyes are discussing the situation right now, but last I heard Scully was reluctant to do anything. I think Mulder’s going to use his own resources to investigate.”
“God I hope so.” Skinner growled, and then, pinching his nose, “I’m working on Kersh trying to keep the x-files open. I think we can keep that room from being used as a copy-center if we show him that it’s good for the Bureau to keep it open. So bring someone’s head on a platter from Bellefluer. And please…I don’t think I need to remind you that the last thing that office needs is any more incidents occurring between you and Doggett like what happened in Iowa. Especially if he is gunning for this office.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“Be careful out there.”
Basement Office. “Dana,” Reyes hesitated, eyes dropping, not wanting to tell her what she had to say, “I got an unmarked package the other night, containing some disturbing information that John and I think you and Mulder need to be aware of for your son’s sake.”
“Monica,” Scully answered cautiously, “I appreciate your concern. But I can’t afford to believe that my son is anything but an ordinary, healthy, human baby boy.”
“With a tendency toward uncontrollable mental telepathy?” Reyes countered with a questioned eyebrow as if Scully could see it. “We don’t know yet what makes William that way or what other qualities he’s going to develop as he gets older. What we do know right now is that his IQ for an infant is through the roof. If the wrong people find out why before we do, I don’t have to remind you of the consequences. John and Jeri are out right now preparing for another investigation to Bellefluer.”
“My kinda town.” Scully mumbled with a sigh, “Monica, you know me of all people can appreciate your situation, but I can’t follow this time. I chased after Mulder’s phantoms long enough. I have different priorities now. I can’t put myself at risk anymore.”
“Dana,” Reyes insisted, “the information in that package contained a VHS tape documenting evidence of a pattern in the latest alleged alien abductions all over the country. A significant percentage of these abductees are showing a disturbing common profile.”
“What’s that profile?” Scully didn’t think she really wanted to know.
“Dana, I don’t know anything about my biological parents. I have two fears with this piece of evidence. The first one is that I am going to be next in line.” She closed her eyes to get her next sentence out.
“You said you have two fears…” Scully hesitated.
“The children abducted in these profiles all share both parents who are abducted. I’m telling you this for you and your family’s safety, Dana. I’m not just scared for Starkweather’s safety and mine; I’m scared for Will. I’m scared of the motives behind taking Will, especially with what I’ve witnessed him capable of.” She really wanted a smoke. Damn the J. Edgar Hoover building for being a tobacco-free environment.
“Monica,” Scully insisted, “I understand your fears, and I’d like to help you out, but if we pursue this line of questioning, then my little boy will loose his childhood in this. I already lost one child to this who wasn’t meant to be. I REFUSE to loose another.” She immediately admonished herself for her outburst.
“This obviously involves him as much as you. The package contained something else, but that will wait until later. Dana, I can’t ignore this.”
“Then you, John, and Jeri go chase after the ghosts this time, and leave my family out of this.” She fumed as politely as she could.
Scully hung up the phone, and bit her bottom lip. She buried her hands in her face and stole a few minutes to try and ignore her surmounting fear. She took a modestly framed picture that sat poised on her mantle of her with Will, and Mulder that the late Ben Starkweather had taken that previous Labor Day. “My God…Mulder, Will…I’m so sorry…I just can’t live with my head in the sand anymore. I have to know.” She whispered, and scooped Will up to get him dressed for his doctor’s appointment.
The phone was not off of Reyes’ ear for two seconds before it rang again.
“The X-Files office,” she greeted in a secretarialistic cheerfully annoyed tone, “Agent Monica Reyes speaking.” It was the first time she’d had to answer the phones down there.
“Agent Reyes,” the male voice on the other end was barely above a whisper, “It would be in the best interest of everyone concerned to meet me at the Smithsonian in fifteen minutes.”
“Who is this? How will I know you?” Trust no one was Fox Mulder’s credo. Not hers.
“I’ll be the one shrouded in mystery.”
“This phone is tapped.” Reyes stated matter-of-factly.
“Agent Reyes, neither of us have time for games. I’ll be waiting by the President. You’ll be very interested in what I have to show you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I know who you are. I know who you were.”
“WHO IS THIS?!” Reyes shouted into the phone. But it was too late. He had already hung up.
Doggett breezed through the door as she was getting her coat.
“We’re all set for Oregon in the morning.” He grumbled, and threw his jacket behind his desk. “I’m gettin’ on the horn in a sec to do a background check on some of the managers of the adoption agencies mentioned in that file. You talk to Dana yet?” He didn’t notice that she was on her way out the door.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, John.” She said briskly
“Where you headed?”
“Just going for a walk.” She said a little too fast to suit him. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Is there somethin’ I missed?”
“Just fresh air. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And flew out the door before he could say anything.
“Worst damn liar I’ve ever met.” He grumbled, and picked up the phone.
Reyes could have easily walked to the Smithsonian from J. Edgar Hoover, but she thought it was better to have the fastest way possible to get away if she needed to.
Whoever wanted to meet her remained hidden, because she could see no one. A sudden necessity to calm her nerves overwhelmed her. She took out her Morley Lights in her pocket and lit up, and inhaled greedily. She could always quit tomorrow.
“Look,” she called out to the air as if to a spirit, “cut the enigmatic crap. I don’t have time for this right now, so if you have something to say to me, say it.”
“She’s direct. She comes after what she wants. It is clear that I chose the perfect one to call.” A voice said behind a pillar.
“What do you want?” She seethed.
Blade stepped out from behind the pillar. The charisma that oozed just from the way he carried himself disarmed Reyes immediately. He carried only a small binder. He could have easily passed for a graduate student in his maroon and gold Redskins sweatshirt he was wearing with a hood that covered his face.
“There are certain parties extremely interested in closing your division at the FBI,” he quoted.
“You left me all that information.” She remarked in a tone that didn’t indicate that she was affected by the revelation.
He nodded and extended a hand in greeting. “Blade Connor at your service.”
She took it tentatively, eyeing him quizzically, “The burning bush was never this cryptic.” She said with a doleful smile. “In exchange for what?”
“In exchange for your help.”
“And if I refuse your request?”
“I can’t guarantee that your past will remain buried.”
“It is not in your best interest to blackmail a fed.”
“It is not in your best interest to refuse my request.”
“You can’t expect me to abandon my partners. I’m the one that got them on this case after all.” She protested half-heartedly.
“They will look into this matter and do what is needed, Agent Reyes. Right now, as soon as you possibly can, I need you to come with me.”
“Where?” She married it with a reluctant sigh.
“Nevada.”
“We’re going to play the casinos? Catch a show maybe? Oooh…we can count the Elvis-impersonators.”
“There was a testing ground in Nevada where they detonated the first atomic bomb to evaluate its effects.”
“But that place was deserted,” Reyes protested.
Blade shook his head.
“So that explains Vegas,” she snorted.
“They built a compound there. It’s disguised as an AFB to the public, and has been used in recent years to observe test subjects.”
“For what?”
In response, he held up photos in response, taken from several years back, of Reyes meeting with Follmer, then meeting with Alex Krycek, then meeting with Jeffrey Spender, Cancer Man, Diana Fowley, and at last, Doggett. “I think you know.”
She nodded consentingly.
“I’ll need you to come alone.”
“I can’t just come by myself, Mr. Connor.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of strangers.”
Reyes whipped out her FBI-issued firearm, but kept it hidden in her coat and aimed at his side so that the by-standers wouldn’t be alarmed.
“Games get you nowhere, Mr. Connor.” Reyes hissed. “For my own insurance, I need to bring someone I can trust. Besides, if I bring someone influential then maybe something can be done to help these people.”
“Fair enough.” Blade curled his lips into a snarl. “But I’m not footing the bill for their ticket. And for your sake, it better be someone you’d trust your ass with, Agent. In D.C. for a year, and already you’ve got friends who won’t turn their back when they find the truth about you? Which A.D. did you fuck this time?”
“What do you expect me to do? I can’t HELP those people.”
“No, but at least you’ll be able to help Agent Scully, the Deputy Mayor, Agent Starkweather, and William.”
Reyes didn’t even qualify that with an answer, for he was gone.
She thanked every deity that existed that she still had an old pack of Morley Lights in her Expedition. Before plugging in her cell-phone, she lit one up and smoked it greedily.
“Assistant Director Skinner’s office please.” She told the FBI operators.
She waited for Kimberly’s greeting.
“Kim, this is Agent Reyes, I don’t care what I’m interrupting I need to get a hold of Skinner right away.”
“You’re in luck, Agent Reyes. You’ve rescued him from end-of-year reviews. I’ll let him know you’re on the line.”
“Thanks Kim.”
“Skinner.”
“Sir, this is Agent Reyes. I have official business to discuss with you as soon as possible.”
“Monica, as much as I’d love to be rescued from these reviews, they have to be done. Are Doggett, Scully and Starkweather going to be involved in this discussion?”
“No sir. This is a private matter. But it directly effects the investigation we’re handling right now.”
“Agent Reyes, if there’s something you’re trying to hide from them, I think they’d be the better people to have this discussion with.”
“Sir…they can’t do anything about this situation in an official capacity.”
“How about a business lunch? I know this great little Mexican place,” he said with a rare smirk.
“Between that drug cartel and the genetic engineering company, I think I’ve had enough of the Mexican culture, thankyouverymuch. What about that Deli down the street from the Bureau—about one?”
“Fine. Meet you there.”
One Clock that after noon Jamie’s Deli ***
Skinner ordered Salami with provolone on Rye. Reyes ordered the veggie delight on wheat and cool ranch Doritos and a coke to go with it.
“Mind if I have a smoke?” Reyes asked, trying not to make the urgency too apparent.
Skinner shook his head. “Why order the health food and smoke, and get regular soda with junk food?”
“Just making sure my kids don’t have to put me in a nursing home.”
“What was so urgent and delicate that we couldn’t discuss in my office?” Skinner never was one to beat around the bush.
Reyes shakily lit up, and exhaled nervously. “After what I tell you, you can transfer me, penalize me however you want, but I’m trusting you not, under any circumstances to tell John.” Skinner opened his mouth and started to say something, but thinking better of it, just ate his sandwich. Reyes couldn’t even make eye contact with her superior.
“We’re off the record now,” Skinner reminded her gently. “At Jamie’s, I’m just a guy you’re eating lunch with.”
“I wasn’t told I was adopted.” She began cautiously, “I knew I was different from the rest of my siblings, but the people who took me in raised me as their own. I was eight when I found out.” She nervously sucked in her nicotine again.
“That you were adopted?”
“No…that I had…” how could she say it, “strange abilities.”
“How did you find out?” Skinner was trying to figure out how this lead up to their meeting, but he let her talk.
“One summer night I was trying to get to sleep, and I saw a woman with light brown hair and blue eyes at the foot of my bed. I wasn’t afraid, but I knew that she wasn’t—“ she fought for the right words, “of this world, because my sister Vanessa was awake and asked me what I was staring at, told me to wake up, thought I was dreaming. I knew the woman was trying to say something to me. Vanessa called for my mom, thinking I’d finally lost it.
After that, I’d know when people were about to die or when someone wasn’t trustworthy. Later on, I learned how to trust my instincts about places and things. After I saw the woman at the foot of my bed, I knew almost intuitively I was adopted.”
“Did your parents tell you the truth?”
“I confronted them about it when I was fifteen. My father hasn’t really spoken to me since, but my mother showed me my adoption papers. According to her, I was found on the doorstep of the orphanage connected with the church I grew up in. I went to the head of the orphanage, and that was the first of many dead ends.” She took the first bite of her sandwich.
“Did you ever find out who your birth parents were?”
“That’s kind of what this meeting is about. I went off to Brown, and decided Quantico might be a good option after my senior year. The day I handed in my application, a man approached me. Said his name was Spender. Said he would help me find my real parents. I was afraid of him, and how he even found out I was adopted was a complete mystery to me. But I took his offer. He told me that I would be guaranteed acceptance into the FBI and given the truth about my parents. It was little things at first. Delivering unmarked packages, and forging signatures and then one of my first cases fresh out of Quantico was to help a New York cop find his son.”
“Luke…”
Reyes nodded, embarrassed to be near tears now. “I was to cover up leads. It wasn’t that the boy was terribly important, but the Syndicate needed the man who did that free. He was a valuable asset to them, having ties to both government lobbies and to the mob. So I did as I was asked…” she squirmed, “and I couldn’t handle becoming close to John and betraying him like that, so I requested a transfer to New Orleans.”
“If this information puts any of your partners in danger, I am going to have to use my discretion about keeping this between us.”
“I can appreciate that,” she said, managing to take another bite of her sandwich. “I asked you here today because I need your help on an investigation.”
“The one you, Doggett, and Starkweather are on?”
“No…today, I was contacted by an informant by the name of Blade Connor. He threatened to expose my past if I didn’t come on the Red-eye to Nevada with him for an investigation into some information he gave me last night. Doggett and Starkweather are needed in Oregon. I need you to come with me to Nevada.”
“What’s in Nevada?”
“I think it has to do with William and Starkweather, sir.”
“What time does the flight leave?”
“2am from Dulles.”
“For your sake, Agent Reyes, this better not be a waste of my time.”
With that, he got up from the table. He called Kim from his car and told him to cancel all his appointments and then went to his apartment to pack a suitcase and get some sleep.
Later that afternoon:
The whole day had been off for Mulder.
He didn’t sleep at all the night before. Bunny, his bubble-headed secretary, was annoying him to no end. Mostly, he just wanted to make things right with Scully.
“Fo—Deputy Mayor…Ms. Scully’s” Bunny said her name with a particularly venomous tone, “on line one for you,” she announced popping her head in briefly.
“Mulder,” Scully began nervously, ”Reyes and I had a talk. I know we’ve been going around in circles about this thing, and I, uh, think we need to stop.”
“Scully,” Mulder hesitated, “I was wondering if there’s room at your place for a prodigal father.”
“Whose turn is it to get dinner?” She said with a small smile escaping her lips.
“Look, I think I can knock off early today. I wanna figure this out as soon as possible.”
“And Mulder…thanks…for the present…I’m not—as strong—an anchor—as you think I am…unless I’ve got someone I need to hold down.”
“I didn’t know you were a dominatrix, Scully,” he smirked.
“Mulder, you want to wait another ten years before you get laid?”
“I’m not into abstinence.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Is that a proposition?”
“Grow up and let me finish!”
“Alright…finish.”
“If I don’t have anything to hold down, I sink…just like every other anchor.”
“Scully, we’ll talk this over when I get to your place, alright?”
“It’s your turn to get dinner.”
“I’ll be over at your place in about an hour and a half, see ya when I get home.” He said and hung up.
Ever since the disaster hit, Mulder found it much easier to call Scully’s small one-bedroom apartment home. Everything between them seemed to come easier. So what if it wasn’t an official, conventional home?
Scully’s Residence Georgetown An hour and a half later
“I’m sorry.” She said frankly, tearlessly, sincerely as soon as he let himself in. She had William balanced on her hip. “I had no right to make this sort of decision for you.”
“I meant what I said when I came back from Jersey. I’m not leaving till your say-so. I was too busy chasing the shadows. You try and save me and excuse me from my own demons, and that’s a lost cause.”
“Mulder, you’re my favorite lost cause.” She said, nestling William in between them.
“So…what do you want for dinner?”
“Go Mulder.”
“You sure this is what you want?” He asked slowly, “For him…for…sometimes the truth isn’t something we can afford to know, Scully.”
“Mulder,” Scully berated, “stop being so damn trite for once in your life and just accept whatever lies ahead. Whatever’s in Bellefleur, we’ll handle it. As long as we’re all healthy happy and safe, it doesn’t matter, right?”
“What if the truth isn’t what we wanna hear?”
“If I make you stay, you’ll always be wondering…always be doubting. You’ll always be blaming me for the fact that you don’t know. And I can’t hide anymore.”
“Whatever happens, as far as I’m concerned, I’m still his Dad.” Scully shook her head, “Didn’t buy that for two seconds, huh?” He grinned sheepishly.
“You wouldn’t be…you… if you didn’t go after the answers. I have never lived my life with blinkers over my eyes, and I’m not about to start.” 1:38am Dulles Airport Terminal C Reyes hadn’t even attempted to sleep. She stayed at the bureau late finishing up some case reports. Then she went to her apartment to pack a suitcase and a travel-on.
She was waiting at the airport for twenty minutes before Skinner came up, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.
“Thank you for coming, sir. I know you didn’t have to.
“Agent Reyes,” he said, messaging the bridge of his nose in attempt to wake himself up, “I didn’t see it as a choice. I was their patsy once, too.”
“Skinner, not to suck up or anything…but you strike me as the last person who’d be anybody’s patsy.”
“The only person I think The Syndicate never got hold of was Mulder…and I think the only people he’d ever get into their clutches for is Scully or William. Now maybe Starkweather. I always admired him for that.”
Blade rounded the corner just then.
“Flight 387 D.C. to Las Vegas now boarding,” a tired voice squawked over the lonely airport. Reyes gathered her bags to get on the plane.
“Sir, this is my informant, Blade Connor.”
“Blade this is…”
“I know. I’ve got shit on him too.”
They both paled.
“Don’t look so surprised. We’ve got shit on everybody.”
“What do you expect to find in Nevada Mr. Connor?” Skinner asked.
“I know all the intimate details of the affair you had with your secretary, A.D. Skinner…I think we can be on a first name basis, eh, Walt?”
Skinner just stood nose-to-nose with the man and stared him down, and then low so that nobody else in the airport could overhear except for Reyes, he said, “Look, you little piss-ant. Let’s get one thing straight. I’m gone in a year. So whatever the hell dirt you pulled outta your ass can stay there to rot. Mr. Connor, if you even THINK of using any of it against me, then you’re facing the mother-f*cking liable suit of all time. You may be able to blackmail a lot of very powerful people but you sure as hell aren’t going to get to me, punk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Skinhead.”
Skinner just shook his head as he left to board the plane.
Reyes now stared him down.
“Am I gonna hafta sit in the corner now and miss recess?” Blade sneered.
“Any more stunts like that and my boss and I will be on the next plane back.”
Then Reyes took her seat on the plane closely followed by Blade.
Blade kept humming “Leaving On A Jet Plane.” Reyes and Skinner both shot him glares that promised bloodshed.
“What? You don’t like John Denver?”
Skinner glowered at him, and got as much in his face as he contorted to face Blade, who was behind him.
“If you value your balls, sir, I suggest you cut the crap.” “Kiss my bloody, British ass, assistant director. I suggest you get some sleep, because tomorrow is going to be a very long day.”
The next morning:
Doggett and Starkweather got the first flight out to Portland, and then rented a sedan and headed towards Bellefleur.
“I’m surprised I didn’t see Mulder on that plane.” She yawned. “I was sure he was gonna tag along.” He pulled her in closer, and she put her head down on his lap.
“I think if Mulder had followed and wanted us to know he was there, he would have let us see ‘im.”
“Your talent of making two words that end in vowel sounds comprehensible amazes me.”
“Please, Starkweather.” Doggett pleaded. “Don’t do anything stupid here.”
“What chromosome do you think getting killed in Bellefluer falls under, Papa John?” She snapped. Then looked behind her.
“I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout aliens ‘n’ flyin’ saucers, Doc.” He said, grinning wickedly.
“Damn…that chopper’s been following us since the airport…”
“I’ll give you three guesses as to who’s in that chopper, and you won’t need two.”
“PLEASE let me shoot him,” She begged, bolting up, “Doggett…pretty please with Cherry Garcia on top?”
Her hands unconsciously moved to his lap.
“Doc…” Doggett hesitated.
“Alright…no Cherry Garcia…just the maraschino kind…or would you prefer the wild cherries?”
“I hate to sound like one of those guys offa one of those Indiana Jones movies…but I got a bad feelin’ about this.”
“Now that’s something you don’t hear coming from your lips every day.” Starkweather replied. “That’s it! Reyes is contagious. I, being the medical doctor…prescribe more time with your Marine buddies being macho manly men doing macho manly things.”
“You’re just jealous.” He teased.
“Aw, shit!” She cursed, slamming her hand on the dashboard in front of her. Neither one of them were aware that a pair of headlights had wound the road behind them. “We’re on the road, Doggett…no bugs here…nobody for miles…and what have I got to be jealous of? Exactly what does Moronica have that I don’t?”
“An even temper…unselfish motives…social skills…” He teased, grinning wickedly, cautiously taking her hand in his. She easily leaned into him again, and flicked him off.
“Besides…if I was jealous that would imply that I am no longer a mourning, grieving widow. And what would the neighbors think?” She nestled in closer, and she couldn’t resist raking her hands through his hair, running her hands up and down her partner’s chest. Doggett’s hand was inching casually from the seat next to him and to her thigh now.
“Well, considering the crap your sisters gave your last neighbors, I think they’d shut the hell up and mind their own damn business. Seriously…I dunno if it’s just all the shit getting’ to me or somethin’…but this just don’t feel right…” he let a nervous sigh escape with a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. His hand messaged her upper thigh in small circles. Starkweather sucked in a breath.
“We better stop.” Starkweather answered.
“Yeah…we’re low on gas.” He said, knowing damn well what she meant. He finally passed a gas station, turned around and pulled into it.
Doggett pumped the gas, and then Starkweather took the wheel for the last leg of the trip.
8:18am Nevada “We’re posing as pharmacists.” He said, handing them both light blue lab coats, turning to Skinner, “Blue is a great color on you. You should wear it more often.”
“Where are we going?” Skinner asked.
“Think of it as camp.” Blade said, for once, in all seriousness. “And light blue’s definitely not your color, baldy.” He added glibly.
Skinner just clinched his jaw.
“How’s this for a headline?” Reyes said finally, “British tourist found dead in Nevada.”
“Temper, Temper.” Blade chided.
“Just show us what we came to see, Mr. Connor.” Reyes said.
“When the car-rental company opens, I gladly will. Meanwhile,” he said, taking two booklets out of his backpack. “I suggest you two study up.”
Reyes and Skinner both skimmed the pages silently. Skinner wordlessly closed his booklet. It was produced by a home for children by a company who called themselves “Never Never Land for Exceptional Children.”
The booklet was a brochure for a facility for, as the company put it, “Special kids.” They showed children who were obviously disproportioned. Some children had extremely long legs and small trunks and arms to match. Some of them had heads bigger than the rest of their bodies.
The pictures of in the pamphlet looked like they were happy children. Despite their malformed figures, they were playing like children do. Most of them looked like they were about sixteen seventeen or so.
“They’re eight and nine.” Blade told Skinner when he saw that the man was finished reading.
“What the hell?”
“They were given drugs. Steroids. Hormone Enhancements that sped up their growths. But they gave them too much at once and so their growing was abnormal. All these kids came from one orphanage in New Mexico.”
“Are they still dealing with the orphanage?”
“Yeah, there’s a list of where the kids all come from on that page there,” he said, flipping half-way through the booklet.
“My brother’s one of ‘em…” Blade said quietly.
“So that’s why you brought us here…” Reyes said softly.
“You’re a bloody smart one, eh?” Blade snapped back at her.
“There’s more to it than that…nobody can find any work records on any of the employees there. No birth records no medical files no credit history no nothin’.”
“So they’re illegal immigrants?” Skinner asked naively.
“Think I’d be dragging you all this way out here if they were just illegal immigrants? I want you to get the mother-fuckers.”
“Sorry about your brother…” Reyes offered quietly.
“Yeah…well…sorry isn’t gonna help Mark. Found out they killed him two weeks ago.”
Just then, a very tired woman with wet hair wearily opened the little gate behind the booth, turned on the lights and wondered why the hell three people were sitting around waiting for a car at 7am.
And the three were off to Never Never Land. With Starkweather driving, Doggett got out his duffle bag and pushed the only tape he could find in it. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to stop the awkwardness and his nerves wouldn’t allow him to go to sleep.
I heard you sing a rebel song Sung it loud and all alone We can’t afford the things you save We cant’ afford the warranty I see you walking in the glare Down the county road we share Our southern blood, my heresy, Damn that old confederacy
It took a long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won’t tear it apart Without a fight Without a heart.
I’m sorry for what you have learned, When you feel the table turn To run so hard in your race, Now you find who set the pace. The landed aristocracy Exploiting all your enmity All your daddies fought in vain, Leave you with the mark of Cain.
It took a long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won’t tear it apart Without a fight Without a heart.
The center holds, so they say, It never held too well for me I won’t stop short for common ground That vilifies the trodden down The center held the bonded slave For the sake of industry The center held the bloody hand of the executioner man
It took a long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won’t tear it apart Without a fight, without a heart. It took a long time to Become you, become you.
(**Become You, words and Music By Amy Ray, from Indigo Girls’ Become You)
“I never pictured you into lesbian folk music.” Starkweather said as the next song waited to be played. “When I was in college, I played them all the time. Tori Amos and The Indigo Girls got me through a lot.”
“That’s my sister’s tape. When I went to visit ‘em Christmas ‘afore last, she hadda borrow my car. All I had was books-on-tape, so I figured if we needed something to keep us awake and the radio’s got nothin’, we’d need somethin’…so I brought that. Didn’t know what it was. I grew up in the town they’re from. My sister went to college with ‘em.”
“Remind me to come home with you sometime.”
He didn’t answer.
“Papa John?”
“Sorry Doc…still can’t get rid of this uneasy feelin’.”
“Here’s what I’ll do.” When they reached a fork in the road, she reached behind her neck and lifted off the Holy Medal of St. Christopher Cross that she wore ever since she got it from a friend in Iowa. “Since I’m probably going to be coming home in cuffs after I get arrested for killing my big dumb brother…” she put the cross around Doggett’s neck, who protested futilely. “You’ll need the patron saint of travel with you more than I will.”
“Starkweather? How much did you have to drink on the plane while I was catchin’ a few winks?”
“Doggett,” she said, sobering up completely, “we’ll be alright. We’re just here to follow up a few leads and we’ll be home way before the Super Bowl starts.”
“Come on,” he said, pulling up to the hotel, “we’ve got shit to go over before the interviews tomorrow morning.”
“And here I was thinking I could do a little sight seeing before we got down to the nitty-gritty.” Meanwhile… En Route to Langston, NV US Highway 71
The car-ride was a very long and tense hour and a half.
Skinner drove, Reyes took the front seat next to him, and Blade stretched out for a nap in the back seat.
“Do you have any idea why you were delegated for this, out of everyone the syndicate is connected with?”
Reyes shook her head. “You don’t care if I smoke do you?”
Skinner shook his this time, and when he did, she got out her Morley Lights and lit up using the car lighter, rolling down the window.
“Any ideas from him as to what we’ll find there?”
“If the brochures and the video are any indication, I’m guessing it’ll be something in between Carrie and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
“You read those books?”
Reyes just feigned a coughing fit.
“Look, if we find anything back there, I’m sending an FBI team to search the place and press charges…but if we don’t find anything…I don’t want any lawsuits, and I’m not taking another sick day to come back here.”
“I think we’ll find something. I feel it.”
They pulled into the home. On outward appearances it was a lovely old farmhouse-type structure. Freshly painted, lawn painstakingly cared for. There was a huge gate with a ten-foot-tall chain length fence surrounding the property. Reyes automatically felt physically ill.
“We’re picking up orders for the pharmacy.” Blade reminded them sleepily.
They walked in, and the front room was kept as meticulously as the yard. Everything appeared to be in order. The nurse smiled at them as they walked past to the back.
“Let me show you people to the labs.” She said congenially, and they followed.
Reyes tried to peer in every doorway possible in attempt to see if she could find anything. She spotted a glimpse of a woman in nursing scrubs in her mid-thirties, but couldn’t see her face.
Then Reyes caught a glimpse of the woman in full view. Reyes blanched and stammered.
“Sir?” She croaked out. “I know that woman…”
Then Skinner turned white. “So do I. When…how did you?”
“She was the woman who I saw that night in my room…” Reyes whispered finally.
“How much did you look at the casefiles from the old cases?”
“I browsed through them, sir…”
“Don’t ask me to explain it…but uh…that’s Samantha Mulder.” Skinner stammered.
“It’s a clone,” Blade said. “All the workers here are human replicates.
“So why are clones taking care of children?”
“I think it has to do with why the children are the way they are.” Blade said.
Meanwhile, Back in OR Two hours later…
The fuzzy music coming from the clock-radio that the hotel provided was the only sound in the room for quite some time.
“What’s DHT?” Doggett said as he got the last slice of luke-warm pizza.
“Vitamin D and thanks a LOT for eating the last slice.”
“I’m a growing boy. What’s it for?” He said, scarfing it down in two bites.
“Pig.” She said, taking a six-pack of coke they had split and pouring a half a glass full of JD’s and the other half of coke. “Growth hormones.” She answered, swirling the glass around and taking a sip.
“Cortisone…ain’t that used for asthma? And what’s prednisone?”
“Those are all forms of steroids. Jiminy Christmas! Is that what those kids are getting?”
“According to this, a pharmaceutical company sent out those drugs out to Nevada and out by the old complex not far from here where Absalom and his gang hung out. Any idea what they’re tryin’ to do to these kids?”
“Spur their growth? Why would they need Gibson Praise to reach adulthood early? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe so he can be responsible for his own actions so they don’t hafta take any of the flack for it.”
She finished half of her JD and coke in a gulp. “And if we don’t find someway to keep Boo away from them, that’s what they’ll do to him, too.”
“Doc…” he said, putting a firm reassuring hand on her shoulder, we won’t let that happen, ok. That’s all we’re ever here for.”
“Are you sorry you stayed with the x-files?”
“No!” He answered immediately; insulted she even thought he was. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“I mean, there just seems to be a lot of shit that gets dumped on you because of this job, ya know?”
“You’re the one who lost your family in this business.”
“Yeah well…” she sighed, “hang on, Slob,” she said, eyeing his face. She got a Kleenex from the nightstand and wiped sauce from his chin.
“Thanks mom.” Doggett grumbled. “I’m not in this job to be some godd*mn hero. If I wanted that, I wouldda stayed in the NYPD. I’m in this job ‘cause I wanna do right. Every now and then I get to. I just wanna stop the bAstards who do things like this...” he held up the folders.
“I’ve got nowhere to go if they take this office from me Papa John,” she said in a thin, little-girl voice.
“Me neither.” He answered gruffly, fighting off eye contact now, but their hands kept finding their way to each other’s for assurance.
Then all resistance went to hell.
“Doggett…people…could be watching…” She reminded him futilely.
“And for what?” He demanded softly, “I’ll be in the A.D. chair completely alone. I’m sick of being alone.”
“Doggett…you can’t just fall for me as a last resort.”
“You’re right, but I was alone with Monica, I was alone with Barbara, even. With you…I’m with you…if that makes sense. I dunno…but for the first time in my life, I’m not too chicken-shit to do something about it,” he said, then to her surprise and his, he kissed her. It was soft, slow, deliberate, tender and wet. She wasn’t pulling away, and he was promising more the further his tongue drove into her mouth.
Starkweather broke the contact, “Doggett…you should know…the last guy who did that ended up dead.”
“I know…” he kissed her again, this time covering every inch of her mouth possible with his tongue.
He caressed her face now, still not breaking the kiss, one hand rushing from face to neck, down her back to her ass.
He left her lips to tickle a line of butterfly kisses from her mouth to her ear, nibbling gently, and lead her close to him on the bed. She smoothed her hands under his jacket running her hands down his arms, letting the jacket float to the floor. She removed his tie while he apprehensively worked the buttons of her blouse.
“God, I want you.” he huffed in her ear.
She pulled away from him now, never breaking his gaze while she freed her hair from its restrictive bun.
“Am I the kind of woman who needs to hear that?” She asked him breathlessly, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling him into a hungry, fevered kiss.
He let his hands roam all over her. She pulled away to lift his undershirt over his head.
Then the whir of her cell phone repelled them to opposite sides of the room.
“Hiya Hurricane,” came a familiar sardonic greeting.
“Mulder!” She said a little too cheerfully to stop her half-brother from raising a suspicious eyebrow. Deciding to keep his mouth shut, he just continued with the original reason why he called. Doggett took that as his cue to grab his shirt, jacket, and undershirt and go to his room, completely red-faced.
“I found Lily Stratford.”
“Psychoboy’s Lily? Shit!” She spat, frantically waving Doggett to stay, shoving the phone between her chin and shoulder blade, unbuttoning her rumpled blouse, pinning her hair back up one-handed.
“Well…psychoboy’s going to be thrilled.”
“Mulder…” she got her form back, livid now. “If you’re in town, I want you to leave…NOW. If I see your ass at the adoption agency tomorrow, I’m buying my nephew a Furbie. Scully’s gonna kill me if I let anything happen.”
“I got her ok on this Starkweather. I’m gonna follow-up some leads. I’ll get back to you later.”
“Arrogant shit,” she mumbled.
Then her eyes floated to the bed in her hotel room, and she just stood there, almost sick with the realization of what they would have done if Mulder hadn’t called.
“Thank God he’s such a prick…” she murmured, <No telling how far we would’ve gone>, she thought, leaning her head against Doggett’s wall.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Phil’s Bar and Grill Bellefluer
The waitress’s hazel eyes circulated the room. She wound her unkempt chestnut hair nervously around one finger. She was thin. Not just physically thin, but the way she couldn’t make eye contact with anybody made it seem as though if a draft came through, she’d be knocked down.
“H-h-hey, boys.” She said nervously to the new customers.
“You the waitress ‘round here?”
“What makes you think I’m not?” She hissed, finally looking up at them.
“N-nothin’, ma’am.” The stockier one immediately spat out, shooting out of his seat. “You’re the waitress around here. Couplla Heinekens for mah buddies ‘n me.”
“Hey listen,” the waitress rasped out, leaning in closer to him, but still trembling, “My shift ends in a few minutes, and I was wonderin’ if a-any o’ you flyboys know how to get to the motel around these parts.”
They weren’t aware of the dark-haired man in the back observing the entire display. His own hazel eyes now turning gray in alarm as he watched the interaction.
“Larr, I think that’s the first time I heard a lady say that to you in a loooooooooong time, buddy,” the taller one whistled.
“Andy, I don’t see no pretty ladies askin’ YOU the whereabouts of the local motel.”
“Ma’am, just follow this highway out here, and you’ll find it.”
She nodded a thanks, and stormed out with her new boss shouting after her. The man bolted out of his booth in the back.
“Where’d she ask to go?” He demanded. The man’s own over-sized crooked nose with nostrils flaring was lined up with Larry’s, and his hazel eyes glistened with specks of amber.
“Take it easy, man…” Andy stammered cautiously.
“Dammit!” He barked, “Just tell me where the hell she went, and I won’t charge you with obstructing justice.” He threatened.
“You a fed or somethin’?” Larry wanted to know.
“Even if I wasn’t, if you don’t tell me where she went, you’re still obstructing justice.”
“To the motel down the highway.”
“Arrogant shit. Who the hell did that ass think he was, anyway?” Larry mumbled as the man sped off in his tan Taurus.
Alpha tore off into the darkness.
They were calling her. It was time someone else took the ride.
She was going to be their slave again, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Someone else was going to be Their slave this time.
She saw Echo in town today, with that man she worked with— He was the one who took her to visit Charlie. If Echo had stayed with them, remained as part of the project, she would have known they were coming.
“Maybe she does,” Echo had thought as she watched them, “but she shuts them out because she’s afraid. Afraid of what they’ll do to her if they know who she is. I know I’m terrified.”
She had been in town for two weeks, and found a room with an old lady named Mrs. Olsen, who said it was ok to pay her after she got her first paycheck in two weeks. Then she found work as a waitress in a smoky bar two days later. It was loud and dirty and crowded, but a great hiding place. She wanted some degree of normalcy, and she found it in the small Oregon town.
Then she heard them. They were coming for her. She wanted to run, but she knew that they would just call her again until they finally chased her down.
Mrs. Olsen came knocking on her door one night about a week ago. Not in a kindly, motherly way, but threatening knocks, trying to get her nightmare-cries to quiet.
“I’M NOT COMING! NOT THIS TIME! THEY’RE NOT TAKING ME!” She had screamed in her sleep. At least that’s what Mrs. Olson told her.
“Look, Ms. Stafford, if you wanna keep this room, you’re gonna hafta stop having these nightmares. I gotta get my sleep, understand?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. That bump at the base of her spine was their collar on her. The only way she was going to stop the nightmares, the only way she was going to keep the room, the only way she was going to stay normal was if that came off.
She found a knife Mrs. Olson had used for scaling fish that Mr. Olson caught while he was still alive, and managed to sneak it under her pants and get it out of the house.
She had found out from those two men at the bar where she worked where Echo was probably staying. She hot-wired one of the cars in the parking lot, and drove in the direction of the highway.
“NOT THIS TIME! I’M NOT COMING ANYMORE YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!” She screamed as she flew down the highway. The Foo Fighters were blasting on the radio as she drove:
Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me Get things right
Hook me up a new revolution Cos this one is a lie We sat around laughing And watch the last one die
I'm looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something help me burn out bright
I'm looking for complications Looking cos I'm tired of lying Make my way back home When I learn to fly high
Think I'm done nursing the patience I can wait one night I'd give it all away If you give me one last try
I’m looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something to help me burn out bright
I’m looking for a complication Looking cos I’m tired of trying Make my way back home When I learn to fly
We live happily ever trapped If you’ll just save my life Run and tell the angels That everything is all right
I’m looking to the sky to save me Looking for a sign of life Looking for something to help me burn out bright
I’m looking for a complication Looking cos I’m tired fo trying Make my way back home When I learn to fly
Fly along with me I can't quite make it alone Try to make this life my own
It wasn’t long before she found the hotel.
Considering the only other hotel in the town was a $50.00 per night room, she was sure they were staying here. She abandoned her car on the opposite side of the room, and hid in the bushes. She tore her shirt just below the place her bra showed, and then took the knife. She felt the line of the scar, and then cut the chip out from the back of her neck.
She took the part of the shirt she ripped off, compressed it to stop the blood, and the wound began to repair itself within seconds. She had found some duct tape in the glove compartment of the car, and embedded the piece of metal in a section of tape. Then put the tape around her knife.
She knew Echo couldn’t go in her place, though. If Echo went in her place, they’d know what she tried to do and come back for her.
The man she came with. He was her key.
She waited, and sure enough, Echo and her partner came back. Somebody else pulled in, and Alpha took no notice until she saw that he stayed in his car too. And it was someone Alpha recognized. Her party had called him Spooky.
Spooky was watching them, hiding from them by the looks of things. That meant that he wouldn’t be a problem.
She waited till it looked like he was asleep at the wheel. Then knocked on the door Echo’s partner went into. He predictably grumbled, and then opened the door.
“Can I help you?”
Without a word, she took the knife out with the chip taped onto it and stabbed it into his forearm.
“DOC!” Doggett shouted. Alpha fled.
Mulder, who had been watching the whole scene, ripped out his cell phone. “Jerilyn, I just saw some chick run out of Doggett’s hotel room. I don’t think he paid. I’m going after her.”
“Mulder!” She said, rushing into Doggett’s room. “Don’t you FUCKING go after her. Just let her run.”
Starkweather had taken the tape off the knife and found a crisply folded undershirt, which she ripped apart with the knife to use as a bandage.
“Papa John, you ok?”
“I’ll live. Look, we gotta stop Mul-dah. Scully’s gonna have my ass on a platter if we don’t bring him back with us.”
“Screw Mulder. You gotta get to an ER.”
“Jerilyn, it’s not that bad. Look, the bleeding’s even stopped now.” He was throwing on a shirt and already shoveling his feet into shoes. He grabbed his keys and wallet.
“C’mon Starkweather. If we’re gonna catch up to ‘im, we’ve gotta hurry.” Reluctantly, she followed.
“What did she look like? The girl who stabbed you.” Starkweather asked when they got into the car.
“Gray eyes. Bottle-red hair. She looked a little like you, come to think of it.”
“Doggett, turn around.”
“I’m NOT leavin’ Mulder out there.”
“It’s a trap, Doggett. She wants me to follow her out there.”
“What if she just wanted to get away from being stabbed by an FBI agent?”
“She was trained to kill, Doggett. She wouldn’t have missed any fatal parts if she intended to kill you.”
“But I don’t get it, Doc.” He shook his head, “Where do you think she’s leadin’ us to?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Starkweather’s cell phone chirped. “Jerilyn, “I’m following her into the woods on foot.”
“No you’re not, Mulder! Mulder don’t chase her, all right? Stay put till Doggett and I get there do you hear me? We’ll be there in ten minutes tops. Just don’t—”
“I’m getting outta my car, Jerilyn. Odds are, you’ll catch up with us in the woods.”
“Shit!” She said, slamming her phone down on the section of the seat behind her and pressing her head up against the window in frustration. “Doggett, Dammit! Drive faster!”
“I can’t unless this rental car was equipped with warp speed.”
It seemed like an eternity before they made it to the place where a parked car still had its lights on. A single gunshot fired, and Doggett and Starkweather flew in that direction.
“THEY’RE NOT TAKING ME! I’M NOT GOING! NOT AGAIN!” A shrill voice cried in desperation.
“NOT GOING WHERE? WITH WHO?” Mulder barked into the darkness.
“I’M NOT GOING BACK!” She took a branch and with one swift blow to the gut, sent Mulder to the forest floor, knocking his gun out of his hand. Before Mulder knew what was happening, she grabbed it.
“You don’t wanna do this.” He pleaded softly. Both Starkweather and Doggett crouched down in the shadows. Two clicks were heard as their guns were both cocked.
“I’m not letting them take me back.” She seethed, and fired three swift, futile shots, and ran. Mulder followed in hot pursuit, but tripped over some ivy.
She tore off into the darkness in the direction of the highway.
Starkweather ran after her but lost her in the darkness.
“Mul-dah? Can you hear me?”
“Doggett, she was setting us up. Get the hell outta here.” He panted, “She was slinging us in a trap.”
“I’ll get ‘em to put an APB on our rentals, Mulder. You take…” he stopped in aggravation, shaking the phone, “Damn. Connection must be lost out here.”
“Doggett get Jerilyn the hell outta here.” Mulder growled.
“Doggett!” Starkweather called out, trying to find her way back to the clearing.
But then the wind picked up, knocking Starkweather against a tall, ancient oak.
She thought she heard Mulder say something to her, but she couldn’t understand him. The wind was violent now. And a light, too intense and concentrated to be lightening was accompanied by a pulsating rhythm. The sound reminded her of the sonic booms she used to hear at the base during her days at Lackland.
“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” She tried to call out. But didn’t get an answer, the
Then as quickly as the wind and lights and booms came, they were gone.
“MULDER!” She called out. The only noise was the chirping of crickets and then a soft whimpering.
“MULDER WHERE ARE YOU? DOGGETT?”
She whipped her flashlight out of her back pants’ pocket and followed her instincts to the clearing.
Mulder was curled up, catatonically locked in a fetal position, but that wasn’t what worried her the most.
“DOGGETT!” She panned the flashlight around, looking for any sign of her partner. Hoping that he had gone for help, she crouched down by Mulder.
Then she saw something in Mulder’s grip that terrified her.
The Medal of St. Christopher.
“Mulder, what happened?” She choked, and tried the cell phone in Mulder’s pocket when she left hers in the car.
Something worked that night.
“There’s an agent down.” She recited into the phone. “We need an EMT out here STAT. We’re out in a clearing in some woods by highway 19. You’ll find a car parked near our location on the highway. He’s in a catatonic state most likely due to PTSS” Hanging up the phone, she knelt by him, checking for vitals. Then whispered, “Damn you, Mulder. This would be so much easier if I still hated you.” She rocked back and forth then, buried her head in her hands, and sobbed quietly.
Several hours passed before Mulder regained awareness. He opened his eyes with a start, and frantically tried to look for some way out, but Starkweather laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Mulder, you need to lay back down. You’ve been given some heavy sedatives to relax your nervous system, and you shouldn’t go anywhere by yourself for a few hours.”
“What happened? Is Doggett talking to the sheriff?”
Starkweather’s eyes brightened at the threat of tears. “Scully and Reyes would be on their first flight up here in the morning, but the lovely cold front’s making leaving D.C. a bit difficult.”
“Damn…now she’s gonna keep me bound in chains till the investigation’s over.”
“Mulder…DIDN’T need that image floating around in my head.”
“What happened?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“I remember going into the woods…then I remember some flashing lights…and then…” He didn’t want to remember the rest.
“We were in the woods.” She finished for him. Her voice trembled and sounded transparent as glass. “You were chasing after some psychochick who stabbed Doggett. Then the next thing I know, you were lying in a stress-induced catatonic coma, and Doggett was gone.” Her voice cracked and wavered. “I lost my dad and my husband for this fucking job. So now, for all that, I have to bury him too?”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“Bull shit, Mulder!” She hissed. “I read those files. My adoptive mother died of cancer after she came back. Scully almost died of the same cancer. Who knows what happened to Cassandra Spender. Theresa Hoese died. Gibson Praise had his childhood stolen from him. Billy Miles had his humanity stolen from him. You died. You DIED, Mulder. Scully, Skinner, Kersh, Doggett, Reyes, The Gunmen, all of them, went to your funeral. You looked so bad when you were returned that it was closed-casket. You expect me to believe that Doggett’s coming back in one piece?”
“Less than ten people came to my funeral? I’ve gotta get more friends.”
“That hadda be some kind of hypnosis…I dunno, maybe we were given some kind of hallucinogen,” Starkweather frantically rationalized.
“You know more about this case than I do,” Mulder answered, “Get back to the hotel. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go back to D.C. and get Skinner to open an investigation.”
“I’m not going back to the hotel. You’re still on doctor’s supervision, so I’ve got to supervise. Plus, there’s no NEED to open an investigation, Mulder.” She insisted. “He’ll be waiting for us at the motel. That…that was just a party trick.”
“Jerilyn…sooner you face this, the sooner we’ll get him back.”
“Arrogant shit.” She mumbled, and stormed out of the room.
On the way back from the rental car, Starkweather got out her cell phone. Then put it back. There was no need to alarm anyone unnecessarily, she had justified. No sense in waking Boo.
3:44am
They took the redeye flight back as soon as the storm cleared. After spending an hour trying to figure out what to tell Scully and Reyes what happened, Mulder decided to hell with it and go back to his apartment. He plunked his luggage unceremoniously by the door and flipped the channels aimlessly, but soon the investigation began to take its toll. Like a video playing through his mind, his own ascension and torture kept playing in his head.
The videotape was paused momentarily by a small rap on his door.
“Sorry I if I interrupted your porn-fest.” She said softly.
He ushered her in.
“What’s happening to him, Mulder?”
“I dunno…” he mumbled.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” she spat, then to her surprise as much as his own, knocked the wind out of him with one swift blow to the gut. “You’re the only one I know who’s got no fucking tact. What the hell is happening to him?”
“I don’t know, Jerilyn…” he rasped as soon as he got the breath back to stand up and speak.
Then like a little girl, she weakly beat his chest again and again. “WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO HIM?!” She spied the tip of the scar from one Their incisions. “He’s going to have one of those when he comes back too, isn’t he? Scully said those autopsy reports showed their fa—Mulder?” Mulder didn’t say anything. His face was expressionless, his eyes unseeing. It was as if he was loosing himself in a trance, trying to escape from a horrible memory. Outwardly, he shivered, oblivious to another presence in the room. Not quite sure what to do or say, she awkwardly put her arms around his waist. The human touch evidently brought him thankfully back from Dreamworld. Mulder finally dissolved into his own sobs, the only rage he let escape against the monsters who tortured him. That was all it took for Starkweather to break down. Brother and sister stood there like that for who knows how long.
“Jerilyn,” I promise.” Mulder spoke at last, “Scully, Reyes, Skinner, the boys and me are going to do everything we can to get him back.”
“Even own up to Scully and Skinner that you were here on an unauthorized investigation instead of at some conference? Skinner would slap a big fat fine on your ass for obstructing justice, and you’d probably loose your cushy job in politics.”
“Scully knew about it. As for the job, it was boring as hell anyway. Bunny was annoying. I won’t be missing much.”
“Bunny?”
“My secretary.”
“Her name was Bunny?”
“You haven’t slept in 72 hours, Jerilyn.” Mulder began cautiously, “There’s gonna be a lot to do tomorrow.”
“No there isn’t.” Starkweather said slowly, staring at the fishtank. “He’s gonna be in that office when we get back.”
“Jerilyn,” Mulder coaxed, “You’re the only one of us with the authority to open up an x-file right now.”
“There’s no NEED to open an x-file.” Starkweather fired back.
“Jerilyn, you and I both saw those things out in Oregon, if you want to get him back, you’re gonna have to face the truth.”
“What about you, Mulder.” She spat. “What about Will? Are you gonna face the truth about him too? Even if it costs you your life? Scully’s life? My life?”
“There’s way too much to loose if you don’t open an x-file.” Mulder countered. “Look…I’m just looking for answers here. We both want to find out what happened, don’t we?”
“The fact is Mulder,” she hissed, “if Doggett never comes back, it’s no fucking skin off your ass.”
“Doggett and I may not be the best of friends,” Mulder glowered, “but I wouldn’t want any human being I tolerated be tortured the way Scully described I was found, and I sure as hell am not going to let that division be shut down now. If he’s gone, then that basement office is as good as closed. That’s ten years of my life down the drain. That’s you, Will, and Scully, everyone associated with that office unprotected from anyone afraid of the truth.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jeri finally turned to face him, fighting back tears forcing their way out. “I’m not f*cking letting that happen as long as I have something to do with it. It’s the only family I’ve got left.”
“No, it’s not.” Mulder said flatly. “Starkweather, we’ll get the boys to dig up what they can for us, and we’ll see if we can get a copy of that VHS tape. I’ll meet you there in an hour and a half. I’ve gotta run by City Hall first and then I’ve gotta politics meeting for drinks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I’ll find him…” Starkweather said, sighing resignedly, “people just don’t disappear without a trace except for in movies.”
“Just make sure you look the right way…the way he was taken.”
And for Mulder, watching his half-sister work herself into an emotional stalemate, seeing the agent now in charge of the x-files abducted like he must have been, and unable to stop it all was as though time had been reversed. The events in this last case turned the clock back for him…two years ago when he was abducted, and seven years ago when his own partner was abducted.
“My God has it been that long?” he murmured as he turned off his lights and found a blanket for Jerilyn, who had fallen asleep on his couch long ago.
The Next Day Clooney’s Pub 4:21
Leaving the airport, Mulder was confident that Starkweather would at least listen to Scully if she wasn’t listening to reason. He pulled up to Clooney’s pub in the business district of D.C., and there were no cars parked along the street. This wasn’t much of a surprise considering most city employees either had liquor in their own offices or weren’t off this early. What did catch him off guard a little and make him thankful that he still had Starkweather’s beretta strapped to his ankle was the fact that there was almost no one in the bar. There wasn’t even someone pouring the drinks. The only person in the bar was a blonde woman in a trench coat who was not exactly welcome company, but Mulder couldn’t see her face to recognize her yet. The bar was too dark.
With gloved hands, she pulled out a clipper from within her trench coat, ready for fire. She would wait until he was caught off guard for their hellos.
“HELLO?” Mulder shouted. “Damn…this is like something outta some really bad Western…” he mumbled, and wondered briefly if he had gotten the address right.
“Excuse me?” He started to say to the woman at the bar. “I was just wondering if this…” Then she turned her head, and Mulder’s mouth went dry. “How the hell did you get the pub empty?”
“The business section in a pub with no happy hour and before rush hour is not exactly populated. If people want to drink and meet people, they’ll hook up with their secretaries and mix drinks in their own office. Should I get a mop to wipe your jaw off the floor?” she purred.
“What the hell is this?” He shouted, eyes changing to a furious green. He stepped slightly behind the bar and pulled the gun from his ankle-holster.
“What the hell is this?” Mulder growled again. “What the hell did you do with the City Commissioner and the building inspector?”
“Is your new political position dulling your intelligence, Deputy Mayor?” Marita purred. “Or is it just because you’re out of practice with these matters? They aren’t dead, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I haven’t been on the x-files for a year. My consultant level is only limited. I have no information that would be useful to you. Please, just put the gun down.”
“You were there when Alex was killed. Your life is very valuable for my purposes for that reason alone. You were also there when Special Agent Doggett was abducted. And there are even bigger, more powerful factions willing to kill for THAT information, too. I think you are mistaken about your usefulness to me, Deputy Mayor. It is not your information I want. I am here for your protection.”
“Pointing a gun to my head isn’t the best way to ensure that I stay alive.” Mulder countered. “I have no real information that would be useful to them about either of those incidents.”
“I think in the coming weeks, you’re going to realize that you and your family are a lot safer if you are a dead man. If you are dead, then the information is buried with you. You must realize that.” With that, turned to leave out the back entrance of the bar.
Mulder charged her in a rage. As he approached from across the bar, she fired a bullet into his left thigh, and he subsequently fell. She ran out the back to make sure no unfortunate soul happened by, and Mulder managed to roll over and retrieve his gun from where it lay underneath a nearby barstool, making it look like natural gravity.
She felt his wrist for a pulse and he was surprised to hear a sigh of relief leak out of her. But before she could walk away, he managed to bolt up and c*ck a gun under her throat.
“Do anything you f*cking want to me,” he hissed fiercely, “but leave my family alone. They have nothing to do with this.”
If she thought he was going to kill him, she didn’t show it.
“I told you…I’m here for their protection.” Then, before Mulder could react, in one fell swoop, she took a barstool and connected it with his forehead, sending Mulder into blackness.
She hit the second memory dial on her cell phone. “Don’t do anything stupid if you value your lives boys. Everything is in place. You know what to do.”
“Consider it done.” A shaky voice answered, and barked orders to be carried out for the plan. “The Fire Chief has been taken care of as well.”
“Haven’t you sucked up enough today?” She sighed. “Just get it done.”
With that, she made her way out the back door, and cleared away from the bar, leaving Mulder unconscious on the floor.
The block quaked as the building crumbled with the explosion. Through the billows of smoke, Justin Leo managed to find his way from where he was hiding in the storage room in the back.
He found the man lying unconscious towards the back, and lifted him up over his shoulder like a potato, and banged Mulder’s head on the edge of the bar.
“Sorry man…” he apologized. “What are you doing, Jus,” the man reprimanded himself, “he’s already conked out.” He didn’t’ give a second thought to the notion that kidnapping was the worst offense. Struggling under his captor’s weight, he carried the man over his shoulder and out the same door Marita exited and shielded himself with Mulder’s limp form as the explosion hit just before he made his way into his car.
“Did you get him?” Marita demanded her employees.
“I don’t know what the hell happened, Ma’am.” One had shrugged, “we went in there before the explosion and couldn’t find him.”
“That is not what I wanted to hear, gentlemen.” She seethed. Then folded her head into her hands and fought down a sob. Everything was going to hell now. Hell in a spaceship.
A Half an hour Later…
Police Seargent Alex James cruised in his patrol car along the business district and wished that there was something more exciting going on than office affairs in the business section of our Nation’s Capital.
But with everyone getting off work, he was beginning to feel the monotony of writing parking ticket after parking ticket grinding down on him.
Then a nearby explosion almost shook the patrol car to the sidewalk. Tires could be heard screeching to haults for blocks. He scrambled to unfasten his safety belt as he strove to find out what was happening.
“Oh God, not another terrorist attack.” He mumbled, as he got his gun ready for firing.
But he quickly realized that it couldn’t have been a terrorist attack. The building ablaze was a run-down old bar that was getting repossessed tomorrow.
15 Minutes later…
Scully, still having an end-of-year report to finish, decided it best if Starkweather would baby sit William to distract her until Mulder could get there. Starkweather recounted the events in Oregon as detached as a history book.
“On Monday,” Starkweather finished softly, “I know Kersh is going to want us to shut this whole thing up. And I know for a fact that rat-bastard will dance on Doggett’s coffin and will not be in an exact hurry to do anything about Mulder’s disappearance either.”
“Turn on the news, see if the FBI is saying anything yet. When did Mulder say he was going to be here?”
“Half an hour ago…” she answered, kissing Boo’s head. “I should have done something, Scully…I should have shot Mulder in the arm or drugged him to stop that idiot from chasing after that bitch into the woods.” She looked down at Boo sheepishly. “Sorry buddy.”
Scully walked over to her on the couch and turned on the TV to the local news network. “Starkweather, don’t think like that. That’s not helping any situation at all…believe me…Mulder and I have been on both ends of this. You are not responsible for what may or may not have happened in Oregon. Wait here for a sec while I go check on dinner. When Mulder finally gets here, we’ll figure out a way to get him back.”
A pale and stunned sergeant was stammering to an all-too-perky reporter babbling about the breaking news that had just taken place on a routine patrol during his watch.
“And the Deputy Mayor’s car was parked outside the bar?”
“Yes ma’am.” Starkweather turned white as she saw the bar, the front of which had been entirely blasted out.
“According to authorities only one body has been found and it has yet to be identified. An anonymous tip confirmed that a car belonging to the Deputy Mayor pulled up in front of the bar that exploded later today, and the Deputy Mayor has yet to be found. It is unclear who will be filling the position. Stay tuned to WTXF news at 6 for more information, sports and weather are up next.”
“Holy Mother of God…” Jerilyn whispered, staring wide-eyed in disbelief at the television screen, and pulled Will into her chest.
The infant began wailing in response to a loud crash coming from the kitchen.
The phone rang, and Scully answered it in a voice that barely sounded like her own. Then she went over to Jerilyn, sitting jaw-slacked on the couch, who was forcing herself to make quieting her nephew the priority.
Scully’s voice was forced, weak, and dry. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this, Jerilyn…but uh, I’ve gotta go down to the police department. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m coming with you, Scully.” She answered simply.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Starkweather. He’s not dead, Jerilyn. Until there’s a positive ID on that body, I refuse to believe that.”
In a flash, she had whipped out her cell phone, and dialed Skinner’s number.
“Come on, Skin-man. Pick uppickuppickuppickup!”
58th precinct Downtown Washington DC
“I told those damn reporters to lay off till the eleven o’clock news! We haven’t even had a chance to inform his family yet! Well, Tom, how would you like it if you found out your wife was dead on the TV?” Detective Ed Carillo was barking into the phone. He paused for an aggravated beat. “Look, I don’t care what you hafta do, just do it!” he bellowed. He happened to look up at the moment Scully and Starkweather arrived at the station, and waved them into his office. “Yes, I’ll hold…I didn’t want any press to leak anything till we finished the investigation.” He waved Scully in.
“Agent Scully, I’m terribly sorry for your loss, ma’am. I’m even sorrier about how you had to hear about it. Someone in the press is going to pay for that, I guarantee it.” He nodded a hello at Starkweather, who was carrying Will. “I trust the Feds are going to take over the murder investigation.”
“Until the crime lab can positively identify Mulder’s DNA at the crime scene and confirm a body with matching dental records, I think the FBI has a <missing persons> case to pursue, and not a murder case to solve.” Scully answered evenly.
Scully glanced over at Starkweather, who handed William over to her, because he had begun making his presence known with an upsetting wail. It was not a cry that sounded like the ones he made when he was cranky or hurt, but he sounded scared. <It’s like he knows what’s going on> Scully thought to herself. “To be honest,” Starkweather began slowly, speaking as much to Carrillo as to Scully, “the FBI has its hands full right now, and the Deputy Mayor is” she closed her eyes “was expendable even when he worked on the Bureau. Detective, he’s a private citizen. The FBI is currently in the middle of another investigation.”
Scully flashed dagger-filled glare in Starkweather’s direction, but said nothing.
“So the FBI isn’t taking matters from here then?” Carrillo asked, reaching his arms out for Will, who was howling miserably. Starkweather was going to open her mouth to say something, but shut it when Scully eyed the detective warily, he smiled warmly replying, “I’ve got two girls at home. This,” he made a sweeping gesture, “just puts a roof over their heads.”
Scully relented, passing Will over to Carrillo, who immediately began speaking—actual words, not baby-talk—in a soft, soothing voice, bouncing and swaying the boy gently around the office. Then looked up briefly at Starkweather. Starkweather opened her mouth to speak again, but didn’t say anything when she saw Skinner breeze through the door.
“I saw the news, and took a chance you two would be here.” Skinner said gruffly, steeling worried glances over at Scully.
“I thought you were supposed to be in Nevada with Reyes.” Starkweather said, obviously relieved that he was there.
“Just got back a couple of hours ago. Monica is following up on some evidence right now, or she’d be here with me. Are you two ok?” Starkweather nodded absentmindedly, intent on what Scully was telling Carrillo.
“So this IS one for the feds?” Carrillo wondered helplessly.
“We’ve got a missing persons case, and not a murder.” Scully insisted. She couldn’t afford to believe any other possibility.
“Agent Scully,” Carrillo had stopped playing uncle long enough to respond professionally. “I wish we had more answers for you now, but at this time, the only guarantee I can give you is that we’ll do our best to find out who did this. And until we find confirmation otherwise, we’re conducting this case as a murder investigation.”
Scully’s only response was a silent nod that dissolved into silent, steady tears she didn’t even realize she didn’t have under control.
Starkweather laid a firm, sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she choked, mortified at her lack of composure. “Excuse me for a minute,” she managed to get out as she ran to the lady’s restroom to regain control of herself.
“Starkweather,” Skinner said, “I came down to see if you and Scully were alright, but also because I found something in Nevada that may lead us to Doggett.” Starkweather eyed him warily.
“Nevada?” Carrillo questioned.
“Agent Monica Reyes, a partner with Scully, Doggett and Starkweather down at the X-Files just brought to my attention some evidence of modern slavery, sanctioned by the government.”
“I thought you WERE the government.” Carrillo countered.
“This is a shadow government…one separate from the established beaurocracy that was formed during World War II when Roosevelt was left incapacitated.”
“I thought that dissipated after the Cold War ended?” Carrillo sputtered.
Skinner shook his head. “To be honest, I’m finding this pill a little hard to swallow myself.”
“And here I thought that was only in those James Bond movies…” Carrillo said, clicking his tongue.
Starkweather was anxious to get back to the matter at hand. “As interesting as all this is,” she interrupted, “do you think Doggett was kidnapped to be enslaved?”
“As ridiculous as it sounds…” Skinner admitted, “yes.”
“No!” Starkweather spat back. “No…he wasn’t—I SAW it. We were out in these woods—Skinner, you saw Mulder being beamed up, you know what it’s like. I think that it’s safe to bet that Mulder and Doggett were both taken to the same place by the same people…or whatever species ET happens to belong to.”
“You’re right about one thing,” Skinner replied carefully, “I think it’s a pretty safe bet that what happened to both Doggett and Mulder are related.” Scully entered Carrilo’s tiny office again. He clinched his jaw, as if it set the gears in motion for his decision. “Starkweather, Scully,” he announced, “I’m opening a full Bureau investigation on both of them.”
“Sir, Scully,” Starkweather eyed them furiously, “can I talk to you both in private for a second?” Starkweather croaked, voice trembling with emotion. Carrillo was none too relieved to get out of the way, and the precinct all crowded around William, who loved the attention.
“Exactly WHAT the hell were you trying to do back there Starkweather?” Scully hissed, eyeing the window every few seconds, “We can’t just let this go…”
“Because” she quavered, close to tears, “the only way we’re going to find them is if Kersh is out of the investigation. Snake-boy’s not going to be able to bury either Doggett or Mulder fast enough, that’s for damn sure.” She eyed Skinner viciously, “with all due respect, sir,” she spat cruelly, “the last time a search was conducted because somebody was abducted under your supervision, he came back in a hearse.”
“Agent Starkweather” Skinner growled, “next time you make a decision on the Bureau’s behalf, I advise you to concur with me first. And off the record, that was completely outta line.”
Fifteen Minutes Later Back at Scully’s *** Maggie Scully was waiting for them when they got back to Scully’s apartment, red-eyed from her own grief for her grandson’s father and tense with worry for her daughter.
“Dana…I saw the news honey…” she choked. Margaret Scully may be a force to reckon with, but in times like this, she always seemed to need the support instead of having the strength to be the shoulder to cry on. It had been like that when her own mother died, and when Melissa was killed. Her little girl Dana was the one she leaned on for support with Ahab out to sea. Starkweather, feeling like an outsider, grabbed her coat and laptop notebook. Scully waved her back in.
“It’s gonna be ok, Mom. If he were dead, they would’ve found his remains by now. By morning, if we haven’t heard anything, we’re sending out the best agents to look for him…” Starkweather wished she could believe that.
“Scully…” Starkweather headed towards the door, “I think I should…”
“No, Jerilyn, please…you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Maggie Scully eyed her daughter quizzically. “Mom…this is one of my partners at the FBI, and Mulder’s sister.”
“Samantha?” She starred slack-jawed at her daughter in bewilderment. She had heard the stories…but Dana had explained she was killed.
“No, Ms. Scully,” she wished she could sound more like herself at their first meeting. “Not Samantha. Jerilyn. We discovered we were related six months ago.”
“Jerilyn,” without hesitation she pulled her into a sympathetic embrace, “if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
“Mom…” Now Scully’s voice quavered again. “Mulder joined Starkweather and John <<joined my ass,>> Starkweather added silently, <<He fucking crashed the party>> on an investigation in Oregon.” She sucked in a breath. “Something happened…John was taken the same way Mulder was taken.”
“What in the <world> was Fox doing in Oregon again? I thought he left the FBI…I…” she eyed Starkweather and stopped herself in mid-sentence, “Agent Starkweather…I <wish> there was something I could do for you,” she added sympathetically.
“He lets you call him Fox?” Starkweather guffawed.
“And <where> are Monica and Mr. Skinner and those three strange friends of his?” Maggie Scully ignored the woman’s question.
“I haven’t been able to get a hold of Monica,” Starkweather answered. “She was out on a separate investigation when we left. The Lone Gunmen are at a computer convention this weekend in Detroit. Skinner is opening an investigation with the bureau to begin an investigation into Do—John’s disappearance.”
“Fox made it back, Agent Starkweather,” Maggie said, and glanced cautiously over at her daughter, “Dana made it back.” she said firmly, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Your partner will, too.” Starkweather smiled weakly, feeling her eyes sting with tears. “He needs for you to believe that right now.” She addressed both women now. “Both of you. Both of them do.”
“Look, Scully, I know you don’t want me to be alone right now…” she gathered her night bag and laptop notebook, “but I need to go. I only brought enough clothes for the trip. And if there’s a search team in the morning, I’ve got an early start, right?”
Scully raised a futile questioning eyebrow. “Look, I know you’re an adult and you don’t need a babysitter, but…”
“Then let me go home.” Starkweather interrupted tersely.
“Alright, Starkweather.” Scully said, shaking her head in defeat and not wanting a fight. “You know how to reach me if you need anything.”
“Mrs. Scully, it was nice meeting you.”
“Jerilyn, dear, call me Maggie.” She was one of the few people Starkweather had ever met who didn’t use the word ‘dear’ patronizingly. She got the back of a receipt she didn’t need, and scribbled a phone number. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you Maggie.” She said, quietly, “Scully, I’ll keep you posted,” she added and then turned to leave.
Starkweather took out her Day Planner and cell phone to call a cab, and then she saw the pictures Ben took the Labor Day before he was killed. She quickly folded it shut and dialed the number for the cab company.
The only way she could keep from finally breaking down in the cab was to close her eyes on the way home.
“HEY SLEEPING BEAUTY!” The cabby yelled. Her eyes flew open. “Dreamin’ about me?”
“Yeah, it was a nightmare, Froggy.” She mumbled, not opening her eyes. She hadn’t slept in 80 hours.
“Unless you want me to charge you for extra time just sittin’ on the curb, you should wake up.”
“Thanks for the advice.” She yawned, got her belongings and handed the driver the fare.
The loft wasn’t even unpacked yet. She couldn’t handle unpacking things her and Ben had shared yet.
Caesar the Cat greeted her, meowing angrily in reproach.
“Baby, give mamma a minute, will ya kitty-pie?” She swiftly headed for her bedroom, which lead to the bathroom.
<<That has got to be an all-time low,>>she thought miserably, <<I just excused myself from the presence of a cat.>>
She stepped in the shower with all her clothes on…something she hadn’t felt compelled to do sense Ben was killed. As if it was painful, she closed her eyes and released a quavering sigh, trying valiantly not to succumb to the overwhelming guilt, fear, and grief.
She had made it through the shower. That was better than she thought she could do. Now all she had to do was feed the cat and get a game plan for tomorrow. Maybe she could start unpacking. There was work to be done. She had to make it through that. Doggett needed her to make it through that so they could find him.
She glanced at her smeared reflection disapprovingly in the fogged mirror after she put on her favorite ugly green terry-cloth bathrobe. <<How the hell did Ben catch the resemblance last summer?>>She wondered. Then mused aloud. “God…was that only last summer?” She went into the kitchen. She needed to feed Caesar. “They can’t take you away, can they, you fur-ball. You’re too damn mean to let that happen.” She plunked down his food bowl from the top of the refrigerator on the counter and sat the can of cat food next to it, then eyeing the cabinet above the microwave, she hesitated for a second, and reached the top cabinet for the half a bottle of Jack Daniels and got a bottle of coke out, put some ice in a glace and mixed the drink.
<<I wonder if we really look all that much a like.>>
She scrambled around the front hall, ignoring Caesar’s demands to be petted and fed, furiously intent on finding the picture of them Ben had taken that Labor Day picnic. She quickly glazed over her and Ben’s wedding picture and the picture of her with her adoptive parents. All those people were gone, too.
She caught a glimpse of her own blurred reflection in the toaster oven as she mixed the drink.
“Scully’s anti-virals probably weren’t the reason he came back last time.” She said to Caesar, who was yeowling impatiently to be fed. “Yeah, I know…I know…you’re pissed at me for not paying any attention to you lately, but I’ve got some serious shit going on right now.” Caesar glared at her as if to say <Yeah, like having to hock off stuff to buy new furniture, because I’m gonna scratch everything up if you don’t pay me due homage>. Rudely, he leapt on the counter and started daintily nibbling away at the contents of the can. “I bet my big dumb brother came back last year just because he pissed St. Peter off so much he got kicked out and Satan figured Kersh and me combined were enough Hell for anybody…” She inhaled a sob.
She sunk to the floor of her kitchen and for the first time since her world fell apart, she allowed herself to break down, finally surrendering to the quaking sobs until her sinuses swelled to the point where she couldn’t cry anymore.
It was long enough to get her through three quarters of a bottle of the Jack Daniels.
Meanwhile… *** As soon as Justin Leo knew of Marita Covarrubias’ plans, he knew what he had to do.
He needed to get leverage—bargaining power—so he could find Lily Stratford, the girl who vanished before his eyes all those years ago.
The police had just laughed at him when he tried to go to them for help. Then he found his way to The Syndicate, and yes, they had helped him find Lily, even helped him get rid of that man she was married to. But they had told her that her name was Jerilyn Starkweather and that she was from Arizona, and that her half-brother was the Deputy Mayor of Washington, D.C.
He managed to hide in an alley by the pub and watch as Marita entered. Then he watched the Deputy Mayor get out of his car and enter. He watched as two men tossed the explosives from an unmarked van like the ones you see in bad movies and watched the van tear down the street.
He knew he had to act fast, or his last chance of finding Lily would be gone. So before the explosives had a chance to react, he made his way into the building, found the man lying on the floor and noticed for the first time how much he looked like Lily. They had found the perfect man to play the part of her brother.
Leo dumped Mulder’s limp form unceremoniously in the seat beside him. He fished Mulder’s keys out of his pocket, found the one for the car with little trouble and drove away unnoticed.
There was an abandoned parking garage not far from the pub. It was going to be torn down next week, and nobody would bother going there until it was time to demolish the structure, and it wouldn’t be that long before he’d have Lily back in his arms.
He stopped off at a hardware store along the way and bought some sturdy rope. With shaky hands, he bound Mulder’s wrists with it. Then his feet.
But Mulder had been able to escape worse situations than being tied up in a parking garage. Last year, he managed to escape a minimum-security prison. He was a goddamn Houdini.
Then he spotted the perfect thing to keep Mulder there. A long, thick, sterling chain used for lifting heavy things. He took the extra rope and tied one another end around his feet.
Then he tied the other end to the chain. It was tough lifting a 180-pound man and a 100-pound chain, but Mulder wasn’t going anywhere. Hitting Mulder’s head on the chain was an added bonus, which meant he was out longer. With effort, Mulder was strung up about fifteen feet from the ground, head down.
Now all there was left to do for Leo was to find Lily. He was watching her carefully without her knowing, and knew that she had moved to an apartment close to the man she knew to be her brother.
He was just as bad as They were. Mulder was participating in the Brain Wash.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“I’m coming, Lily.” He whispered as he drove Mulder’s car to her apartment.
Meanwhile… ***
Reyes made her way through the rainy streets to Starkweather’s loft. Skinner had just told her what had happened to Mulder. Then her superior told her what had happened to Doggett.
“She witnessed it all?” Reyes had barely whispered.
Skinner merely nodded. “You need to tell her what we saw in Nevada, Agent Reyes…I don’t think she needs to be alone right now, but don’t tell her that. Go there with official business about what we found. Maybe if you two put your heads together, you’ll come up with something. Tomorrow, I’m starting a taskforce, and you’re heading it.” With Maggie Scully tending to her daughter, Reyes didn’t think that Dana needed her help.
Her own fear for her partner was overwhelming, but Starkweather was alone. Jerilyn wasn’t fragile and helpless, but she was alone. Utterly alone. She went to her apartment and packed an over-night bag. If she had to stay outside in the hallway, she’d do it. Doggett was going to need Jerilyn when he came back.
Starkweather’s eyes shot open at the jingle of her lock.
“Doggett?” She faintly hoped.
No answer.
She slovenly stumbled to her front hall for her weapon, still drunk, and fumbled to take the safety off. If someone she knew was on the other side of the door, they would have answered.
She pointed her gun straight ahead “WHO THE FUCK IS OUT THERE?!” She sluringly shouted, not caring about the hour of the night and the neighbors she might disturb.
The lock only jiggled again in response.
She unlocked the deadbolt and the door flew open.
Justin Leo was standing there, drunk, pale, and unshaven. “Lily?” He slurred.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?!?” She screamed, cocking her weapon and shoving the end of the barrel at his temple.
“Please, Lily…I had to…”
“Look, you mother-fucking psycho,” she seethed murderously, “call me Lily again and you’ll wish those dinosaurs ate you alive while they had the chance. I’m going to ask you again. What the fuck did you do with my brother?”
Starkweather lowered the gun at his genitals. Leo whimpered.
“Lily…no…don’t…please…”
“Not like you’ll be missing them.”
She stepped back twenty feet and fired a shot at his kneecap, hitting it splattering blood all over her favorite green robe.
Meanwhile Reyes approached Starkweather’s building wishing that the past few days had been a blur. She heard the gunshot, and reflexively pulled out her gun.
“JERILYN!”
She heard strained whimpering towards her partner’s apartment and flew up the stairs, not waiting for an answer.
Her eyes grew wide at the scene in the apartment. “Jerilyn…” she whispered pleadingly.
“Agent Reyes…meet the bastard who tried to kill my husband and succeeded in killing my brother.” Starkweather said when she was finally aware of Reyes’ presence.
“Jerilyn, don’t.” she pleaded quietly as the man lay unconscious on the floor.
Starkweather aimed at the mass on the floor.
“Jerilyn, I’m really sorry, but you’re leaving me with no other choice,” she mumbled and hit her in the nape of her neck with the back of her gun.
She carried Starkweather back into the bedroom and called for the paramedics.
“I was feeding the cat for the woman who lives here. She’s an FBI agent out on investigation.” Reyes covered for her once the paramedics came to bear Leo away on a gurney. She had a spare weapon issued by the FBI she left me.”
She left out the detail that she was an FBI agent as well. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d covered up tracks.
Finally everything was quiet. Jerilyn still hadn’t regained consciousness, and with the paramedics finally gone and the police through with the investigation, she wanted to talk to Jerilyn. She wanted to tell her what they had found in Nevada, so she plopped down in front of the couch. She tried to flip channels for a little while, but soon the welcomed oblivion of sleep took over.
But not for long.
She stood in a black, flowing dress on a playground that had swing-sets, monkey-bars, a slide, and a sandbox where a pretty red-headed woman and two small children—a boy and a girl who looked to be about the same age—were playing.
Not knowing quite what to do, Reyes just sat on one of the swings and watched them play. The redheaded woman waved her over.
As she approached the sandbox, she realized that it had a perfectly sculpted space ship inside. Both children were adding sand to it, making it more complete.
“They’re always building.” The redheaded woman said quietly, with a sad smile on her face. “They have to for them.”
The little tow-headed boy in the sandbox Reyes finally recognized as Luke Doggett. Her eyes stung with tears. Luke saw her and tugged on her sleeve. “Daddy’s not here yet,” he chirped. “Got some things to finish up. A lady Missy knows needs him back.”
The little girl piped up. “Fox isn’t here yet either. Missy says the lady needs him back too.”
Reyes bolted up, and quietly broke down in sobs. “I just don’t get it!” Marita fumed to the two thugs she had hired to help get Mulder safely out of D.C. “How do you loose someone who can’t move?”
“Tell Dr. Zhivalgo we tried.” One of the thugs smirked.
“I should have known better than to employ complete idiots for a job so important! EVERYTHING depended on this success. If the world ends, it’s on your heads!” She ranted, very tempted to kill them both with two pulls of the trigger.
She decided it would be more productive to try and find Mulder. She needed him alive and well for her plan to be executed. With CSM back, if she was ever to take charge of The Syndicate, she needed to do it now.
She decided the fastest way she was going to find him alive was to drive to Mulder’s apartment to try and find any leads.
She did a double take when she drove past an apartment complex with a black 4-Runner she knew to be Agent Reyes’ car, a white Pinto she knew to be Starkweather’s car, and a light blue Ford Taurus with City Hall stickers and his FBI parking sticker still on the car placed oddly next to an “I Believe” bumper sticker.
“Dead men don’t drive,” she murmured to herself, “or maybe they do…would explain a lot of the drivers around here.”
She got out, made sure she wasn’t being watched and touched the hood. Then she looked through the windows of the car.
It was still warm. Carelessly, the keys were left in the ignition and the lights were left on. She saw about 5 feet of rope in the front passenger seat and the backseat blotched with someone’s blood. It was fresh. He was alive an hour ago.
She got out a pocket-knife and cut some of the bloodied upholstery. She would need it for DNA testing. Suddenly, blue lights flashed from down the streets and obnoxious sirens drew closer.
Marita got in her car and fled as fast as she could without being noticed. Hopefully Mulder’s apartment would lend more clues than his car did.
But the chances were good that he was alive. There was still hope.
Scully knew better than to believe Mulder was dead.
There wasn’t a body. He would be back soon enough. It was only a matter of time. He always made his way back. “Mulder is like Rubbermaid,” Skinner observed once before he was found in Montana.
She was more worried about Doggett. She had never meant for him to be so personally connected to the basement office as she was. He had enough crosses to bear without personal loss or the trauma of having to deal emotionally with being abducted by something you so adamantly disbelieved.
She hoped she could find him. That he would be returned. That she could save him. She couldn’t afford to fail another partner.
She decided the best place to start looking for a clue leading to his disappearance was Mulder’s apartment. Maybe there she’d find the key to getting them both back.
Marita picked the lock with relative ease. Breaking into the man’s apartment was the easy part. The hard part was trying to find whoever did this. Scully arrived at apartment 42, and saw the collection of newspapers from the last two days, and grew uneasy when she saw that they were kicked aside.
When she drew closer, she saw the crooked lock, and heard the distinctive sound of someone rifling through drawers. She crept closer, trying desperately not to let the brunt of her pumps click to the wooden floors so she could catch the intruder off-guard.
With her gun drawn, she flung open his door. “WHO’S IN HERE?!” She shouted. Behind her, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blond out on the window of the fire escape.
In hot pursuit, Scully raced to the fire escape, firing a few shots at a woman flying down the stairs, her loafers clanging on each rung.
The woman tried to loose her in the narrow streets of Mulder’s neighborhood. For several miles, she chased her in and out of narrow streets.
Finally, the woman caught herself at a dead-end.
“Hands up!” Scully shouted, rushing the woman, still training her weapon with one hand and getting her cuffs out of her pocket with the other. Scully wrestled the woman down to the pavement, who incredibly had managed to keep her face hidden. Scully slapped one end of the cuffs to her, and continued her protocol. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Who the hell are you and what were you doing in that ap…”
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Marita’s face as she reached to cuff one hand to the other.
“I was trying to find the same thing you were, Agent Scully.” She spat.
Just then, Scully’s cell phone whirred. “Goddammit, not now,” she yelled at her phone.
She kept her gun pointed at Marita as she answered it.
“Scully.”
“It’s Monica. We’ve got Leo.”
“What?”
“He broke into Jerilyn’s apartment tonight and tried to kill her.”
“Where is he? How’s Jerilyn? Did she kill him?”
“Jerilyn’s fine. Got a helluva headache, though. Leo’s in St. Vincent’s.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Jerilyn blew his kneecap off.”
“Good for her. What’s Leo’s condition?”
“Coming out of surgery to repair the knee. Jerilyn’s talking to Skinner now about putting him away for good.”
“Thank god. Is Skinner there with you?”
“Yeah. He’s heading up the investigation. Why?”
“I’ve got Marita Covarrubias in custody.”
“What?!” Now it was Reyes’ turn to gawk.
“I was at Mulder’s apartment…she was there. I’ve got a gun pointed at her now and she’s in cuffs.”
It was odd how Marita wasn’t even struggling.
“Tell Skinner to send back up please.”
“Sure thing, Scully. See you down at the hospital then?”
“Yeah…St. Vincent’s you said? And you can fill me in on what you found in Nevada.”
Then she put her phone away, and turned to Marita. “Now you tell me what you were looking for in that apartment and I might let you die without that much pain.”
“Agent Scully…from your phone conversation, I think I have some information that would be very valuable to you.”
“Is this some pathetic attempt to try and break free?” She seethed, getting nose to nose with the woman. “We’re going to the car, and I’m driving you downtown. Any information you have you can give them for your arrest report. Now out of the alley!”
“I think I know who kidnapped Mulder,” she said as they walked.
“Sell it to someone who’s buying.” She said, not slowing their pace.
“Justin Leo is at St. Vincent’s, if I heard the phone conversation correctly, right?” Marita said desperately. She didn’t care that she was arrested, she would be free one way or another. She just wanted to be heard at this point. She had to find Mulder. He was the key to gaining control of The Syndicate, of fighting colonization, of everything. “Jerilyn Starkweather’s the one who shot him, correct?”
Scully said nothing still. “I saw Deputy Mayor Mulder’s car at her apartment. It had half-dried blood on the front passenger seat. The engine was still warm while I was there a half an hour ago.”
“You think for one minute I’m believing this, Ms. Covarrubias, you have grossly underestimated me.”
Marita continued her spiel as they walked the half-mile to Scully’s car. “I set it up to look like the Deputy Mayor had been killed, yes, but I needed it to look that way. I needed for that Smoking Idiot and Leo and all the UFO nuts to think he was dead. I had my connections set up a meeting in that bar and called my men to blow it up. Under my orders, they were going to bring him to safety.”
“What did you need him for?”
“To bring certain parties to justice, Agent Scully. That’s what we both want, isn’t it? I’m trying to tell you…I’m on your side this time.”
“Just like you were on my side when you nicked me with my gun and then put it to a friend’s head?” Scully countered. She let her prisoner into the driver’s side back seat, and while she was strapping her in, Marita stretched her cuffs around Scully’s throat and butted her head against the car door. With the brunt end of her pumps, gave Scully a swift kick in the ribs, causing her to double over in pain.
Scully lay unmoving on the sidewalk.
Marita took her chance and ran while she could. Her purse was on the car seat in the backseat, and she fumbled frantically for the keys. She found the ones that started the car relatively easily, and she tore off in Scully’s car with the left back door still open, making her way to Justin Leo’s last known address. She managed to break her cuffs lifting a heavy table with her back and landing it on the chain.
“Flimsy piece of shit,” she muttered when she got them off in one blow.
She logged on, guessing correctly that his password was “Lily.”
“Let’s see what you’ve found out recently, Mr. Leo…” she murmured as she waited for the computer to boot up.
She found a site for demolishers and their upcoming projects. A parking garage was being torn down the upcoming week and it was close to the pub.
She didn’t even bother to log off. She bolted up and ran out to the car, and sped off towards the warehouse.
When she got there, there was nothing until she got to the top floor. There was Mulder, hanging upside down from his feet, left for dead.
She got out her cell-phone.
“I need some help…” --- Scully’s throat was raw, her stomach was cramping and her head throbbed when she came to. She went to message a knot in her neck and it was then she realized it was cut. Then she realized that her car was supposed to be in the empty space in front of her.
Just then, back up arrived.
“Where were you guys when the suspect got away?” She demanded to poor rookie Officer Helm. “Look…I’m sorry…just having a really bad day.”
“Just tell us what happened, Agent Scully,” Officer Helm asked.
Detective Carrillo pushed his way through the team of cops. He nodded to Officer Helm, saying that he’d take over from here.
“Agent Scully…what the hell happened?”
“I was in pursuit of a suspect when I investigated the Deputy Mayor’s apartment. I apprehended her and she attacked me enroute.”
“They found the car.” A sergeant said.
“Where??” Scully asked, grateful she wouldn’t have to call a rental car company.
“In front of an abandoned garage that was scheduled to be torn down tomorrow. You want us to take you there?”
She nodded. “You need us to call anybody?”
“I just need to get in touch with my supervisor and get a forensics team out there.”
“They didn’t find any evidence there, ma’am.”
“I wanna look.”
“Suit yourself,” the officer said, shrugging, and started the car. Mulder found himself alone on a beach.
The water was the blue of Scully’s eyes. The tide was low. The sand smushed velvetly between his toes, and the waves hypnotically crushed and folded and pulsed against the shore. The rhythm was calming and seductive.
Struggles were not present here. There were no more demons in this place. There were no more ghosts. The dead weren’t buried alive here. No one needed to be saved here. Redemption and regret did not breed here.
Time and distance were irrelevant in this place, so it was difficult for Mulder to say how long he walked along the shoreline.
He stopped when he almost tripped over a rise in the sand.
At first he thought it was a sand dune. Then he looked down and realized that it had sharp angles and intricate engravings with ancient alphabets.
He hated the sight of it.
He kicked it as hard as he could, so hard that he fell down. But it wouldn’t break.
Then he heard a sound almost drowned out by the gentle roar of the waves. He couldn’t tell what it was at first. He was too busy destroying the thing in the sand. It was a small, terrified cry. The sky turned furiously dark. The wind blew angrily, but the cries persisted. He thought he could make out the word that the child was saying.
He panicked when he was sure what the child was saying.
“DADDY! DAAAAAAAAAAAADDY!”
He gasped for air.
“William?” He croaked out, and tried to bolt up. Realizing it was a dream and nothing more, he collapsed in a mixture of defeat and relief, and tried to figure out where he was. His arms were both in slings and they hurt like hell.
Mulder found himself in a dark, sparsely furnished room with a cross on the wall he was looking at. There were no windows. Every bone in his body ached.
The door opened, and a familiar woman entered carrying a pitcher of water and a Styrofoam cup.
“Marita,” he rasped. He was painfully aware that several ribs were broken. “you win. Just tell me what I need to do to protect my family, and you’ve got it.”
“Relax, Mr. Mulder.” She said, pouring him a cup of water. “I’m sorry I had to be so dramatic, but I really needed to get your attention.”
“Helluva way to do that. Couldn’t you have just gotten on your broomstick and wrote something fancy in the sky?”
“Good to see you’ve got your sense of humor.” She said tersely. “You’ll need it. I’m sorry I had to do it this way, but I needed to bring you here. I needed to make it appear that you are dead and no longer a force to contend with.”
“Why?” he demanded as loudly as possible.
“To guarantee yours, Agent’s Scully’s, and Starkweather’s protection and the protection of William, Mr. Mulder. It’s no news that several different parties are interested in being presented both of your heads on a platter.”
“And your not?”
“My interest here is to protect you from them.”
“What for?”
“I have been informed by an associate of mine that the CIA wishes to recruit you to investigate paranormal in avenues that the FBI cannot pursue.” She answered flatly.
“That’s no secret,” he spat back, “Why take me away from everyone I’ve ever cared about? And from my avenues to protect them? I’ve got responsibilities now that I can’t just drop at you, or Smoking Man’s, or anyone else’s whim,” he said carefully. “In the circumstances right now, my sister is going to need family more than ever. There’s an FBI Agent missing. I feel as though it’s my responsibility to search for him, because if it weren’t for me, he never would’ve disappeared in the first place. I can’t just abandon Scully to take care of William by herself. Please…” he begged softly, “I need to get back to them.”
“You will, Mr. Mulder.” She answered with a faint smile, “I can’t guarantee when, but you will return to them.” She promised. For some reason—maybe out of desperation—Mulder believed her. “For now, though,” she continued, “you need to stay here
“So where is ‘here’ exactly?”
“St. Jude’s Cathedral of the Divine Spirit just south of the Montana/Canadian boarder. I thought the Patron Saint of Lost Causes was an appropriate safe house. You are to live here in the protection—and anonymity—of the brotherhood of St. Jude until further notice. I have informed the Abbot that you are Brother Christopher.”
“Oh brother…no…pun intended. So how long am I supposed to stay here?”
“Until the threat is under control. I won’t lie to you, Mr. Mulder. This could be any amount of time from a few days to a few weeks to a few years. There is a good chance that once this threat is under control, we will be able to uncover the whereabouts of the FBI agent you spoke about.”
“So,” he closed his eyes in disbelief, “what am I supposed to do in the meantime? You honestly just expect me to lie here and wait?”
“No. An associate of mine, a man by the name of Blade Connor, will bring you information pertaining to your next task at hand. He should be here in the next few hours and tell you what to do.” She rose to leave.
“Scully needs to know that I’m safe,” he said quietly as she was leaving.
“Mulder,” she answered frankly, “until the threat no longer exists, if anyone other than me knows you are alive it jeopardizes her life, your life, Jerilyn’s life and the life of your son. It is too risky for them to hope. And besides, its not like you’ve made them top-priority in the past. Why should now be any different?” With that, she left.
For the second time since he joined the x-files, John Doggett woke up without knowing where he was.
“Stawk-weddah?” He croaked out weakly, still not fully aware of his surroundings.
The woods.
That was his last memory. Mulder was trying to keeping him from being caught up in that…he chuckled inwardly at the word, but there was no other way he could define it…tractor beam. “Mul-dah?”
Then he tried to stand up, and that’s when he became shamefully aware that his clothes had been stripped from him. He tried to get up, but found that barbed wires just off the skin kept him prostrate.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw nothing but tables lined up like gravestones at Arlington.
One man—if you can call him that—approached Doggett at the sound of his cry. Doggett could find no trace of humanity in the face of the one in uniform who approached him.
But the one in uniform was recognizable.
“Billy Miles…” Doggett rasped disbelievingly. Humanless Billy Miles stepped up to him and held up a needle, made sure that the substance inside would flow. Then injected in his left forearm.
Then another Uniformed One approached him. Doggett couldn’t see his face because the man was pouring black oil down his own, covering his eyes. Doggett would have screamed in reflex if his throat hadn’t been constricted for the whole process.
Then the oil seeped through every pore that it hit directly and was absorbed through his skin like lotion. It immediately made him want to vomit. Whether it was a reaction to the oil or the situation, he didn’t know which.
Then another Uniformed One approached him. Doggett didn’t want to open his eyes when he heard his footsteps fall for fear it was another does of what he recognized from the X-Files he read a year ago as Purity.
God was it only a year ago?
But after a few minutes of not being pricked in the arm or doused with the oil, he was surprised to find that there were no barbed wires encaging his face. “Get up.” The voice emotionlessly ordered. Although it sounded automated like a pre-recorded telemarketing call, was strangely familiar.
The Uniformed One had his back to Doggett, putting on surgical gloves, and his face was hidden. “GET UP!” The thing shouted again.
“Are you through wi’ me?” Doggett barked, “I’m a Fed and you’re in serious shit if you don’t tell me where I am right now and show me the way out.”
“The FBI does not exist in This Place. We are the law.”
The Uniformed One turned around, and Doggett’s jaw gaped when he recognized who his guard was. <What the hell??>Doggett reeled.
“Mul-dah…you gotta get me outta here…” he said helplessly. But this man didn’t even hold himself with the arrogance and charisma the Mulder Doggett left behind had exuded.
This Mulder moved like Billy Miles had. <Oh Jesus…no…Scully…William…Jerilyn…> Doggett breathed.
Then the Uniformed Mulder turned around, not even exerting any energy, contacted his fist with Doggett’s gutt several times. Then Doggett’s jaw and nose. Then his spine.
Oblivion thankfully took over his senses again, and he sank like a rag doll onto the floor.
The lack of windows made it impossible to tell what time of day it was or how long he had been out. He was sore. His ribs ached, his back ached.
He knew he was on a bed of straw. He didn’t want to be aware of anything. He opened his eyes at last when he was suddenly aware of water splashing on him
“NO!!” He shouted, thrashing around. Reflex made him think it was the Purity again, and tried to knock the cloth that was being used out of his head.
“Hey, take it easy, man.” A soft male voice said, “This ain’t that oil shit. Just water.”
“Who the hell are you?” Doggett was embarrassed to be completely nude in front of a total stranger at first, even after he realized that his cellmate didn’t have any clothing either.
Maybe that made him even more embarrassed. But what could he do? He was a prisoner.
“Joe. Joe Shepherd. I look out for everybody around here. Who are you?”
“Doggett…I’m with the FBI. God…if I ever get outta this place, it, and everyone involved is gonna fry.”
“The FBI…that could make it harder on you. Any kinda badge holds about as much water as a driver’s license from Wal-mart. I don’t think you oughtta advertise that fact. It might be a death sentence here.”
“Where’s here?”
“Does it matter?”
Doggett hung his head. “Guess not…”
“Get up!” The uniformed soldiers barked, banging harshly on the cells. Their skin clanked against the metal bars.
For the first time since his little boy died he prayed.
He prayed that William was at home where he should be. He prayed that Monica was ok. He prayed that Scully wasn’t going to have to bury Mulder again. He prayed desperately that Starkweather was safe.
Reyes drove home from Starkweather’s apartment after clearing things with Skinner and Starkweather and the police. Tomorrow the task force would begin to find them.
Because of the nature of the situation and the partiality of all involved, Kersh had ordered another agent assigned to head the task force.
Tonight had been a long night, but tomorrow was going to be an even longer day.
Her mind kept wandering back to the woman—or something that looked like one—and her first vision. She knew there had to be a connection between her and the woman, but what it was she couldn’t tell.
Or was afraid to ask.
She was brought out of her reverie by a familiar diminutive five-foot-tall figure on the side of the road with a flash of red hair.
“Oh my God!” Reyes gasped, and scrambled out of her car.
“Scully? What the hell happened?” Reyes said, looking her over to make sure there were no serious injuries.
“My cell phone was stolen. I went to Mulder’s apartment for leads and walked in on Marita. She stole my car. My purse was in it.”
“Any idea what she wanted?”
“She said she wanted to save him.” Scully said, wringing her hands. “She told me she was trying to fake his death so that he wouldn’t be a threat anymore.”
“Is there any truth about what she says?” Reyes asked, putting her suede coat over Scully’s shoulders. “Because if she’s telling the truth, that has to mean that Mulder’s still alive.”
“God I hope so.” Scully said as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“How’s Starkweather holding up through all this?” Scully said as they wove through the minimal late-night traffic on the belt-loop.
“How are <you> holding up through all this?” Reyes demanded.
“I’m fine. I’m always fine.” Scully mumbled. “Is Jerilyn ok?”
“She will be, I think. She won’t do anything stupid. I’ve told her that there’s no way in hell I’m Caesar-sitting.” Reyes said with a smirk.
“God, did you see Byer’s ankle after that cat attacked him last summer?” Scully giggled.
“I think for that damn cat’s sake,” Reyes said, sobering up, “she’ll pull herself together.”
“Did you and Skinner find anything in Nevada?” Scully asked, changing gears completely. She was grasping at straws now…anything to give her a lead to break this case wide open.
“I think it’d be best left to the first task force meeting tomorrow morning.” Reyes said slowly. In all honesty, she had no idea what she found.
“Secrets aren’t going to help find them any easier, Monica.” Scully said.
“I’m not trying to keep things from you, Dana.” Reyes reassured her, “I am just…what I saw…not sure of what to make of it.”
“Welcome to the x-files.” Scully mumbled.
“So have you talked to Skinner yet about joining the task force officially?”
“I’m going to try the unofficial channels first.” Scully said, and they were in front of her apartment. “Thanks for the lift.”
St. Christopher’s Cathedral, MO Mulder didn’t know how long he drifted in and out of consciousness.
After Marita left, he had tried to get up, but after having tried five times, he finally resigned himself to the only thing he could do in his position—worry. The arms were healing from being hung upside down for so long, but they were still sore.
The first thing he needed to know was if William, Scully, and Starkweather were all safe and the second was if Marita was telling the truth. The third thing he had to find out was if he was captive, and if so, by whom.
After a day and a half of bed-rest, Mulder was bored to tears. Bored to tears and scared. Scared for Scully. Scared for William. Scared for Doggett. Terrified for Starkweather.
By sheer determination, he managed to stand up, and he found that—even though each step sent a stab of pain, he was at least mobile. He was not in the three-piece suit he had left his apartment in, but a charitable party had dressed him in no-name jeans and a blue cotton label-less t-shirt.
He found that the more he walked the less it hurt, so he just kept walking down the halls. Eventually, he found his way to the abbot’s office. He rapped on the door.
“Come in,” said an oddly familiar voice.
“Mulder?”
“Carlos?!”
“Damn…they said you were dead,” he said, grinning broadly, extending a hand, “I was hoping it was true. Helluva lot less work for me.”
“They say that a lot about me.” Mulder answered with a wry grin of his own.
“God damn, man…what the hell did he do to you? Look…I’m sorry about the whole detour you took courtesy of Justin Leo. We never meant for that to happen.”
“So Marita Covarrubias was telling the truth then?” Mulder said, taking a seat in front of Carlos’ desk.
“Covarrubias?” Carlos’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The CIA’s familiar with her, but we haven’t cooperated with her since she betrayed our confidence two years ago. She got abducted for that.”
“She wasn’t part of this?”
“Hell no. The CIA doesn’t make the same mistake twice. What the hell…are you trying to say she orchestrated all this?”
“She told me as much.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. She’s gotta be long gone now.”
“Sh*t!” Carlos cursed, throwing a large hardback against the wall, knocking the crucifix off of it.
“Such language for an officer of the cloth,” Mulder smirked.
“Lifestyles of the poor and dangerous. Uncovering espionage, protecting our nation from terrorist attacks, taking the confession, and babysitting.”
“Felix Leiter made it look so easy,” Mulder snorted.
“Felix Leiter my *ss. Piers Brosnan”
“Come on, that chicken-sh*t pansy’s got nothin’ on Sean Connery.”
“Right…Money-penny…” Carlos retorted. “That’s gonna send the bad boys packin’.”
“What the f*ck ever…so how’d you get this set up?”
“The CIA has an established relationship with the National Cardinal. He lets us camp out in churches whenever we need to.”
“What exactly did Natasha say to you?”
Mulder sucked in a shakey breath, half from feeling weak from so much strain and half from all the stress of the past two days. “She said that she arranged it for me to stay here and that I was to wait for orders from her informant to follow up leads.”
“And you trusted the b*tch why?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? Look…I think if I can play along with this, then I can at least get tabs on her and at the most get enough to slam the book at her.”
“And what if she finds out you’re a double agent?”
“Then I’ll just have to take that risk.”
“I can’t let you do that, man.”
“Look…if you can come up with a better way to get me home then I’m all ears.”
“Alright, man, but you’re planning your own suicide.”
“The information could possibly break this whole thing wide open, right?”
“And she could just be using you as an errand boy. Look…I know you wanna get back to playing house with that red-head of yours in those come-fuck-me heels, but I can’t let you…”
“Look,” Mulder protested, “when I agreed to join, unless I’m mistaken, you personally guaranteed me and my family’s protection.”
Carlos nodded.
“If I’m going to risk being a double agent, I’m going to need to make sure my family is being safely guarded. I want you to send surveillance teams out there and report back to me if any of them so much as have paper-cut.”
“Alright, man…but you are playin’ your own death card. Anything happens to <you> and I am not responsible. Got it?”
“Make sure you let my baby sister know that if I turn up as a John Doe in a morgue somewhere.”
“You are one fuckin’ piece of work.” Carlos mumbled.
“I get that a lot.” He answered. And then left.
Carlos immediately picked up the phone. One of the perks of working in the church was that it is probably the most secure line he could hope for.
“Bunny, I’m gonna need the surveillance teams out round the clock on the Scully residence and the Starkweather residence. And tell them round the clock MEANS round the clock and not round the clock with an hour or so coffee break.
Boneventure Martin hung up and sighed.
“Like I’ve got nothing better to do than file documents and make sure the x-files gals aren’t boinking anybody.”
Then flipped her rolodex for the CIA’s communications techs.
“Elvis…we need you guys again. And this time, try not to get caught.” 6:54AM Starkweather Residence Arlington, VA Between the pounding of the water and the blaring morning radio show, she wasn’t sure that she heard a whirring sound.
Then she heard it again.
It was unmistakably the phone.
Still haven’t rinsed her shampoo out and sopping wet, she grabbed her bathrobe and made a mad dash for it.
“Agent Starkweather,” Skinner said, not waiting for a hello, “I need to speak with you about something that really cannot wait till regular business hours.”
“You have a lead?” Starkweather said hopefully. She knew Kersh’s policy against leads that involved anything supernatural.
She also knew what she saw.
“Possibly. Did Reyes discuss with you what we found in Nevada?”
“Yeah…freaky,” she said dryly.
“I got a tip from an anonymous source about a pharmaceutical company based in Montana connected with Never Never Land and several other homes for special need’s children.”
“So you think if we follow this trail, we’ll at least find out where they’re hiding Gibson Praise?”
“Exactly. Starkweather, I don’t want you to make this public. I will explain to the Deputy Director that you’ve taken a sympathy leave for a couple of weeks, and I want you to follow this tip. I’ve emailed the info to the gunmen, who should have already sent it to you. Catch the first flight out to Montana.”
“And what about Scully and Reyes? I can’t just leave them in the lurch.”
“I’ve cleared it with them.” Skinner answered calmly, “You want to find them, right?”
“Of course…but sir, exactly what do you think I’ll find out there? And I need to take care of Mulder’s state of affairs since I’m his closest living relative…well…the closest living relative that is of voting age, anyway.”
“Take care of all of that when you get back. You are going through unofficial channels here, and if you get caught, it’s your ass on the wire, not mine. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Starkweather said, taking in a shaky breath.
“Good luck, Agent Starkweather.”
FBI Headquarters J. Edgar Hoover Building The next morning
Kim Manners ruefully eyed the man approaching her desk. He strode through the halls as though the FBI were a school, everyone in it were students and he was the principal. She wondered what would happen if she started shouting.
When she saw the evening news last night after she got home from work and heard about the Deputy Mayor. Having worked as long as she did for Assistant Director Skinner, she knew today was going to be hectic. They’d probably started a task force already, but she didn’t know they’d be bringing someone else in.
“Adler,” he announced, as if she should make it her duty to recall the name, “he’s expecting me,” his gaze never rose above her chest as he jerked his head towards Skinner’s door.
She eyed him suspiciously, <Eeeeeeew…perv alert. This guy is just plain gross. A man hasn’t leered at me like that since Mulder. At least Mulder was a hottie…oh damn…was. Poor Agent Scully!>
“Agent Adler here to see you, sir. Says you have an appointment.” She said then she mouthed, <Kersh?>
Skinner nodded to answer both questions. “Send a memo to all available agents that there’s a task force meeting in half an hour. Send him in.”
“Assistant Director,” Adler said, smiling broadly. “Agent Phineas Adler. It is a pleasure sir,” I just want you to know that I’m hear to make this ordeal go as smoothly as possible, if you know what I mean.”
Skinner instantly disliked the man shaking his hand.
“No…” Skinner said, “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I’ve been assigned to find Agent Doggett, sir.”
“I wasn’t aware that an agent was in charge.”
“You can check it with the Section Chief. I got the green-lights from him.”
“Well, in that case, I guess…welcome aboard. I trust they briefed you on the situation.”
“I got the picture good enough, Assistant Director.”
“What’s that?”
“You already know the story.”
“Yeah, but I wanna hear your version of it.”
“By all accounts from the last people to see Agent Doggett alive—one of our own Agent Jerilyn Starkweather and the late Deputy Mayor—
Skinner cut him off.
“They have no I.D. a body on the Deputy Mayor,” Skinner reminded him sternly, “in this business you learn one thing fast. Until there’s a body, the missing aren’t dead,” <and even if they were dead, some of them make it back from the grave> Skinner added silently, but was he going to tell this ass-kisser that?
No way in hell.
“Missing…dead…same difference.” Adler said flippantly.
<God, how did this guy make agent?>
“It’s a big difference, Agent Adler. If the Deputy Mayor is the last person alive to see Agent Doggett, then that makes him a reasonable suspect, wouldn’t you agree?” <Not that Skinner thought that for one minute…but he wasn’t going to divulge THAT conclusion either>.
“Well…yes…of course…” Adler stammered.
“I sent a memo to all the agents involved on the task force to be in the Wilson room at 9. Till then, I suggest you settle in, and rest up. It’s going to be a long day.”
“But sir, I think you misunderstand, I…”
“You are an agent just like the rest of my subordinates, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then that will be all.”
“Thank you sir.”
<I give this guy about twenty minutes before Scully, Reyes, and Starkweather all throw him out on his ass. Hell…I’ll give ME about ten> He typed in Instant Message to Kim.
<Can we take an office pool?> Kim typed back. <I’ve got dibs on five>
Kim gave Agent Adler a dirty look when he left his card on her desk. “In case you need anything,” he leered, winking.
Kim didn’t trust him. Not one bit.
Neither did Skinner. St. Christopher’s Cathedral 4:27AM A sharp knife landing just by his ear, abruptly jerking Mulder awake.
“That,” a man said, hiding in the shadows, “is why they call me Blade. And why it is a good idea for you to behave.”
“Nice wake-up call, Dr. Seuss” Mulder grumbled.
“This ain’t the bloody Days Inn, and I sure as hell ain’t wearin’ a funny lookin’ hat.”
“Do what you came to do and get this over with.”
“You goin’ somewhere?”
“Look. Cut the crap and just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“You are supposed to look into something for us.”
“Us?”
“Who we are is not your concern. Your concern is doing what you’re told. Pay attention, follow my instructions, and you won’t have a scratch on you. Fuck up, and they won’t be able to recognize your body.”
“What’s your angle? Why are you here antagonizing me?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“Oh, come on…with a name like that you’ve gotta have more to do than bug the shit outta me. Why are you out here?”
“I’m the most mentally stable of her allies at this point in time.”
“Marita doesn’t trust Leo?”
“Would you?”
“And she trusts you?”
“Helluva lot more than anyone else.”
“Why?” “I want them to pay.”
“For what? Some John didn’t give ya your dues for one of your girls?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re pretty much kidnapping me, I think it damn well is my business.”
“Look, Connor…you need me. I sure as hell don’t need you. I can just walk straight outta here and get on the next plane home.”
“And then what? Back to the CIA with nothing to go on? Back to your son who is probably going to be on someone’s platter sooner or later—
“You so much as lay a finger on him, and I will make sure that you will wish those people killed you when they had the chance.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Mr. Mulder. I already wish that every damn day. The way I see it, I’ve got nothing to loose. And you’ve got everything riding on this one.” He flung a crumpled map at Mulder. As Blade turned on his way out, Mulder realized that there was a route high-lighted.
“Don’t get lost.” Blade chided.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
“You’re the Oxford Boy…you’ll figure it out.”
“Late for tea?”
“Beg pardon?”
“What part of England were you from again?”
“I didn’t say.”
“Funny…because your accent seems muddled…like you’re doing a bad impression of Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire. And he really wasn’t from England, either.”
“Bollocks!”
“You can drop the bad accent Connor. My advice, if you’re gonna try and pull off as a Brit, don’t wear damn Nikes. And stop watching Austin Powers and bad Robin Williams movies so much.”
“I need those! I have weak arches!”
“The least you could do was watch Monty Python and get it right.”
“Go to hell.” Blade hissed, but didn’t make a move.
“The one thing I can’t determine is motivation,” Mulder persisted, “because I know for a fact that the spy business is lousy. So if you’ve got a tan-line where a wedding band should be…were you ever married, Mr. Connor? Do you have a family? Is this personal for you?”
“What the bloody hell are you getting at?” Connor hissed.
“You can drop the Brit act.”
“Sorry…habit.”
“That still doesn’t answer why…of course, I’m in the CIA, you know,” Mulder continued, “Former FBI Agent, still with connections high up in the Bureau. I could probably track down your wife with a few phone calls. Tell me, did you ever have any kids?”
“Leave Sami the hell out of this!”
“Sami…Samita?! Saint-Claire?! Delta?! Of the Eden Project?! Then…you’re Connor?!”
“You’re still lucky you’re alive. I didn’t want to help you. I’m only following her orders. You didn’t do a bloody thing for my family when we needed help. We’re still being terrorized.”
“Don’t tell me you actually CHOSE the name Blade?!”
“Oh, like you had an easy time on the playground, Fox.”
“Still doesn’t explain what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“It’s information, Spooky. Use it. Wisely.” With that, Connor stormed out.
The map had highways highlighted, and a little town in New Mexico. Starkweather walked down to her mailbox, and found an unmarked package with a disk inside. She went to a cyber café next door, booted up the computer.
On the disk was a bunch of sales receipts and invoice notices from UPS.
She whipped out her cellphone, and dialed the courthouse.
“Judge Lackey’s office…hey Wolf…Jerilyn Starkweather here. Sir, I really hate to impose on you again, but I need a favor.”
“Name it, you got it, Jerilyn.”
“A search warrant.”
“That is something I can’t do…”
“Some information that may give us a huge break on a case is on a P.O. Box., and I need a warrant to get information of shipments. Where it was shipped, what time, and to whom.”
“I’m sorry, Jerilyn. I’d love to accommodate you. But it’s election time, and all eyes are on me. I can’t just hand out warrants like free coupons. I tell you what. Get me proof, I’ll get the warrant.”
“I can’t GET proof without those invoices.”
“Look, any other time, and I’d do it for you. Your dad is the reason I’m running for re-election in the first place. But this time, honey, I’m sorry…I can’t. Anita and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime.”
“Thanks for your help,” she mumbled and hung up. <<Great, another dead end.>>
She dialed the number for the Lone Gunmen.
Byers’ voice greeted her on the answering machine, “You have reached the offices of the Lone Gunmen. If you wish to report a conspiracy, press one. If you are requesting our investigation services, press two. All other persons, please wait on the line for further assistance. Your call may be screened for training purposes.
“May! Langly shouted over the recorded, “how bout WILL!”
“Shut up, Goldilocks,” Frohike was clearly grumbling over the message, “can’t you put a cap on it for two seconds!”
“Guys, please! If the Lone Gunmen is going to be taken seriously at all, we have to maintain a decorum professionalism!
“Shove it up your ass, Mr. Manners.” Frohike snapped at him.
“This has to be serious we can’t ju—“ Byers was protesting when the answering machine cut them off.
“Guys, it’s me. If you’re there…pickuppickuppickuppickup…”
“Hey Hurricane,” Frohike rasped.
“Don’t tell me you actually had to get off your ass.”
“Just blew in the door.”
“You’re back already? I thought the convention was for ten days?”
“Yeah…but Kimmy wired us about Mulder…A.D. Skinner filled us in…that sucks.” Langly interjected.
“Thank you for the assessment of the situation, Dr. Phil.” Starkweather deadpanned.
“If there’s anything we can do for you, just name it, Agent Starkweather,” Byers said.
“Look, I need you to do me a favor…and tell Langly to turn off the damn recorder.”
“I need you guys to hack into the UPS records site.”
“Is that all? Kiddie sh*t. What kinda shipment?”
“Dunno. That’s what I need you for.”
“What shipment?”
“FJE1213776. Shipped two days ago, 10:13 Pacific Time. I need whatever you guys can get me on that.”
Starkweather heard a computer booting up and keyboards clicking away.
“Got it. Zeroed in on a P.O. Box in New Mexico.”
“Can you find out who owns the P.O. Box?”
“Just give the magic fingers a sec to work their spell,” Langly said.
“Magic Fingers?” Starkweather snorted.
“The P.O. Box belongs to one Stanley Morrell. SSN 104-22-9020. Paid his fees with his Visa credit card. 3011800024795000.”
“Can the <magic fingers> dig anything up on this Morrell guy?”
“Um…no criminal records…uh oh…”
“Uh oh’s not good…” Starkweather said.
“He’s dead.”
“Ok…get back onto the UPS mainframe…I need you to check some more out for me. I can dig up what I can in the FBI database.
“CSM082320. Shipped a week ago today, 4:13PM CST.”
“Hold your horses…the net is slow today…ok…Mr. Jacob Jowers. SSN 424-09-3556. Paid Master Card. 3115003078314222”
“TXF122419. Shipped three days ago, 3:35PM CST”
“Ms. Linda Rappaport. SSN 191-46-2252. Paid Visa. 225111042928.”
“Thanks guys, that should get me somewhere.”
“Let us know what you find. We’re following up any leads we can on Doggett. We’ll keep you in the loop.”
“But if it were up to me, Puppy Man would stay put.” Langly grumbled. Starkweather finds out where the PO Box originated, and goes to New Mexico. Mulder goes to Nevada, and then finds out that the research labs that the pharmeseutical company is located in New Mexico. She packs one of those instant cameras. The LGM get a little visit from the CIA. Introducing Bellamy Wade. Bellamy meets Sharon Kuhn and the LGM, and gets to Lily. Doggett figures the ends and outs of his prison, and starts to plot an escape. LGM get paid a visit from Izzy, Adler’s old girlfriend. They figure out what Adler’s up to— Starkweather tracks down the pharmeseutical company in Nevada She stopped in the Grocery store she saw on her way into town to get her film developed.
She stopped in her tracks at the sight of one of the customers. The color drained from her face.
There, at the hour photo-developing center a familiar six- foot tall dark-haired man waited in line.
“Mulder?!” She sputtered.
He turned, and then immediately bolted.
She raced after him, and caught up with him in the Employees Only area, looking for a place to hide.
“Hey! You can’t come in here! Can you fucking read?! It’s employees only!” Said a man wearing a dirty apron with a box in his hand. Starkweather just aimed her pistol and shot the box he was carrying.
“You gonna pay for that?” The man demanded. Starkweather aimed her pistol at him.
“On the house,” the man said ten octaves hire.
“Hey, Spooky,” she whispered. And then punched him with all the force she could muster in his gut.
“Hiya Hurricane,” Mulder rasped.
“Do you know what I was going to do when I got back home?” She said, kicking him in the shins like a little kid.
“Have no idea,” he mumbled.
“I was going to make YOUR final arrangements. Damn you Mulder! We need you back home!” She raised her knee to kick him in the balls now. Mulder doubled over again. “Scully and Skinner bug the gunmen every damn night about any John Does fitting your description. They’ve got a task force right now to look for Doggett. The twirp they put in charge thinks YOU killed him and fled the scene to resist arrest. So forgive me if I haven’t told you I missed you yet, because that was a REALLY shitty thing to do.”
“It wasn’t as if I had a choice to leave.”
“Are you saying Lux put you up to this?”
“No…look…Starkweather…if they see you here, you’re life is threatened because you know I’m alive. No one can know.”
“And your life is threatened because you’re careless, stupid and have a knack for pissing me off when I have a loaded weapon.”
“Ten miles from this place, and you could be run off the road if anyone saw you here.”
“So what do I tell everybody when I go back home?”
“Are you deaf or just plain suicidal? You have to leave. Now. Or they’ll be looking for another missing x-files agent.
“What do I say?”
“I want you to tell them WHAT you found here. Not WHO you found here.” He closed his eyes and swallowed, the next words thick with emotion, “I can’t be found.”
“So you want me to look my best friends in the eye and send them on wild goose chases looking for you and LIE straight to their faces?”
“I want you to keep them safe. If the evidence is stacked against the idea that I’m alive, they’re safe. Please…just do this one thing for me…”
“If I do, I better not see you again because if you show up in D.C., Big Brother, I’ll blow your brains out. Not like you’d miss them anyway.”
“Save your bullets for blowing your psycho boyfriend away. You won’t be using them on me.”
She stared at him in angry confusion and he just avoided eye contact, stuffing his hands in his pockets, not quite knowing how to explain himself.
“I’m looking for Doggett,” he said finally.
“I was kidding about the twirp thinking you killed him…ok…I wasn’t…but…dammit Mulder…at the risk of sounding like someone out of a cheesy movie…hiding isn’t the answer…”
“I’m working on getting him back. I owe him at least that much.”
“I know…” she said quietly, “why else would you be in the middle of nowhere? You were probably following the same tip Lux got.”
“Lux gave you the tip from an informant?”
“Yeah…first thing this morning…”
“If you can find out who it was, we may be on to something. Just please…God…Starkweather…be careful.”
“Oh, you can count on it. I don’t wanna miss the chance of killing you.”
“Let me rush home right now,” he said dryly.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Things to do, places to be, friends to lie to, excuses to make.”
“Scully and Boo?”
“You sure as hell didn’t worry about them when you left.”
“How are you doing?”
“Don’t abandon me when I need you most and then pretend to care about how I’m feeling,” she hissed coldly.
“Look…Doggett started this looking for my sorry ass two years ago. Returning favor is the least I can do. I’ll get him back. Besides…who else is gonna play ref between you and me?”
“Aren’t you at all interested in what I’m doing here?”
“Find anything good?”
She handed him a disk. “These are shipment invoices from one bogus P.O. Box here in town. I’ve traced it to a corporation that goes files for Nasdaq as Morningstar Medical Groups, Inc. All leading to one bogus P.O. Box.”
“And that’s what lead you here? Who gave you the shipment invoices?”
“Lux. Who gave you the invoices?”
“I didn’t get invoices. I got a map, followed it, and found out what I could about Redcrest Pharmaceuticals…are they affiliated with Morningstar?”
“Yes…and according to what information I’ve been able to gather, they’re affiliated with several other companies. Infinia Mortorchem and the Omega Group. Who gave you the map?”
“Blade Connor. If he finds out that Lux knows I’m still alive, I’m dead. You’re dead. And so are Scully, William, and everyone else. That’s why you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“So if Redcrest, Morningstar, and Infinia Mortorchem are all affiliated…”
“…all we’ve gotta do is figure out which one set up the bogus P.O. Box, and where all the shipments are going.”
“And part the sea and change water into wine,” Starkweather grumbled.
“So if this is a bogus P.O. Box, then you think this is all a front for something?”
“Is Skinner bald? Look, we’ve seen this before. Drug trafficking outfits operated by convicted felons from the inside, operate and distribute illegal drugs and to fund places like those concentration camps that Scully was almost taken to last year. Don’t you ever pay attention to cheesy action flicks?”
“What the hell are you getting at?”
“All we gotta do is find out what operations the profits from these drug-sales are supporting.”
“And that has WHAT to do with this case?”
“Maybe Doggett is there. Maybe all these profits are used to support facilities to keep captives…”
“Mulder, what if Doggett is no longer on this earth?”
“Then…I guess I’ll hafta update him on the super bowl when he gets back.” We catch up on what Bravo’s been up to lately "Did you get lost?" Carlos said when Mulder came in, tossing a map on the desk. "You're just cranky because you still can't figure out how to beat the computer at free cell." "Yeah...well...you don't hafta listen to a bunch of old ladies confessing about lusting after their favorite soap opera actors." "Gimme your best shot," Mulder said, for once in his life remaining serious. "That's what the informant...informed you with?" "Yeah...not a big talker. And get this...remember Samita Saint-Claire?" "Rebecca of Syndicate Farm?" "That's the one..." "What about her?" "The informant's her husband. Apparently, his reasons for both helping me and hating my guts are personal." "Do you think it's a wild goose chase to keep you busy?" "I don't think they'd go to this kinda trouble to keep me occupied." "Well, according to our sources, Marita was at your place last night. She was either trying to cover her tracks or..." "Or she was telling the truth...at least the part about not having control over Leo." "And word on the street is Leo somehow got past hospital security." "And I'm not surprised because..." "And the FBI is commencing a task force as we speak to search for Doggett. They're raiding a home for children in Nevada." "So Vegas is out. Gotchya." "Find out what Leo's up to, get to him, and you've got leverege to use against the syndicate." Mulder shook his head. "Leo's a loose cannon. To them, he's a liability because he's not dependable. Doggett was after this place in Oregon, right? A company gets pharmeseutical supplies from the same place as this home in Nevada. And if I find the source, I find Doggett." "Then you're golden." "Too bad I missed boyscouts the week they all got their Find A Needle In A Haystack badge" "You were in boyscouts?" "My dad made me." "What's in Payton, New Mexico?" Carlos said, keying in the coordinates into his computer. "A stoplight if we're lucky." "And according to this," Lux turned around his computer screen for Mulder to see, "the home basis of a dotcom company, and from what I can gather, the dotcom company stock was one of only ten dotcom companies whose stock went up...the same amount of shares that day." "So find out what all those dotcom companies have in common and if the had something to do with what Doggett and Starkweather were looking for..." "Then Doggett's crabby ass might be homefree. And remind me again why you wanna find that redneck?" "Because Starkweather would kick my ass if I didn't. And besides, he found me. It's the least I can do to return the favor." It was amazing what a person could get used to. To Doggett, time no longer existed within the walls of this place. It wasn't 7:00 or 12:00 here anymore. It was time to get up. Time to dig in the fields. Time to go to the labs. Time to eat. Time to sleep. He was a fortunate member of Control Group B, who dug in the fields in the early part of the morning with Joe Shepherd and the rest of the male prisoners. "What are we diggin' for?" "Artifacts." "What kinda artifacts?" "Hell if I know. We're just supposed to be diggin' 'em up. Some kinda granite, with markings on 'em in different languages." "Do they make any of the goons 'round here antsy?" "Come to think of it...yeah...they do. Only a certain zombies can handle it if we find anything." "How much have you found? Any idea?" "This one digger found a big chunk." "How big, d'you know?" "Hadda be about half the size of a football field." "No fish story?" "No fish story." "Do you believe in the Bible, John?" "I dunno what to believe anymore." "The thing is...and this is weird...the chunk the guy found had markings...looked like mebbe Greek to me, and I ain't talkin' 'bout the expression. I MEAN Greek...know what I'm sayin'? And then somethin' that looked like what them towel-heads used...and then somethin' that looked like Egyptian...whadyacallit..." "Sanskrit?" "Yeah...that's it...couldn't think of it...spent more time in the frats than I did in the library...and the soldiers were afraid of it. Wouldn't go near it. Only a few of the zombies would even go near it." "Any other chunks like that found?" "Nothin' that big." "Any idea what the--" "YOU WANNA GO TO A TODAY, FIBBIE!? WANNA SEE WHAT REAL SWEAT'S LIKE?" "At least I've got real sweat." "Real sweat is shit, Fibbie. Means your mortal." The Super Soldier snarled, and then wrenched the shovel Doggett was holding with his hands, and belted him with the flat blade." The last thing Doggett heard was the soldier saying "All yours sweetheart," and then blackness. And the next thing Doggett remembered, he was back in his dingy, cluttered office...back home ***"Sounds like she's here," Doggett commented. "About time too," Scully smiled and settled into her desk, still secretly thrilled that she had her own desk. "I would like to get back to maternity leave, or what's left of it." "Hello?" Doggett and Scully looked up, looked at each other and looked again at the young girl. "Can we help you?" Doggett asked politely. "Are you Agents Doggett and Scully?" the young girl asked them. "Yes," Scully said hesitantly. "My name is Jerilyn Starkweather, I've been transferred here to you from Minneapolis." She made no move to enter the room, just stood there patiently, still clutching her briefcase. "Oh!" Feeling like a horse's ass, Doggett got up to go shake Starkweather's hand. "Come in, come in, sorry, we just didn't expect you-" "To be so young?" She commented dryly, but a ghost of a smile haunted her lips. "To be so early," Doggett amended, flustered. "Well, here's headquarters for us. It's not great, but it's not so bad once you get used to it. We got a desk for you, it's not really that impressive but we're not in the office very much." Scully hid a smile as she sipped her herbal tea. Doggett looked like he had caught a very bad case of a schoolboy crush. And well, why wouldn't he? Scully reasoned as Doggett lead Starkweather to her desk. She was pretty, not a heartbreaker but fresh-faced and sweet looking. <Too bad for Agent Doggett she's married> Scully sighed to herself, noticing the flash of diamond on her left third finger. *** And then he was back in the prison. But something was very out of place... "Doc?" He croaked out, a blurry vision of the form of a petite blonde ten feet away from him. "Bottle his product up and take the sample to the lab. Group A is done in the lab for now." It sounded like Starkweather...but...the something was... off...wrong somehow. Hard, maybe? "You've been very helpful Agent Doggett," Bravo sneered, holding up the sample. "File the semen with the others, and follow the rest of the orders," she barked at the Soldier. And the prisoners were herded out to the cells. And Doggett wondered if he would ever be human again.
Meanwhile... FBI Headquarters
On the whiteboard in the back of the room was "Phineas Adler" written in big bold letters. "Good Morning, Agents." Addler chirpped like a grade-school tacher, "My name is Phineas Adler, and I'll be the agent in charge of this operation. My job is to find these men. Your job is to follow my lead. Now, you should know that I've been briefed on the situation at hand, and before we start this investigation, are there any questions?" Immediately, Reyes raised her hand. Kim, who was there getting coffee and taking meeting notes, held five fingers up for Skinner to see. "With all due respect sir, we've all been out of highschool for at least ten years. I was under the impression that this mission was supposed to be a co-operative effort. Not a field trip." "So if I'm the dull teacher, is Agent Starkweather Ferris Beuller?" Scully and Reyes just fumed. "I understand that there was a good deal of animocity between The Deputy Director and Agent Doggett. I was brought on by the Section Chief for good faith. Follow orders, and Agent Doggett will have a fighting chance. Fight me, and Agent Doggett will be nothing more than a memory around this place." "Is that a threat?" Scully demanded. "Consider it a fair warning." Addler answered coolly. "Agent Adler," Scully seethed, "I've seen your credentials. You've got quite an impressive resume. But nothing in your records indicates any experience in dealing with...what we're dealing with here." "And what ARE we dealing with here?" "History speaks for itself, sir." "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your casework *history* consists of wild stories about Martians." "Not specifically Martians, sir. Mars as no indication of any kind of complex specie that I have witnessed first hand." "Regardless, the records belong on some science fiction B-Movie. The FBI deals with terrorists and hostage situations. Last I checked, Marvin the Martian was not on our list of threats to national security." "If you had done your homework, Agent Adler, my casework...the lives that are saved because of it, the justice that comes to light through it is its validation." "Another outburst, Agent Scully and you will be dismissed from this team. I suggest you keep your temper in check from now on." "And I suggest you bring an extra pair of pants when we leave for the field, because if what the reports and the evidence suggest is true, then your Armanis will be soaked on the way home." "AGENT SCULLY! OUTSIDE!" Skinner barked. "Am I being sent to the principal's office sir?" Scully chided. "I know this is a bad time for you. It’s a bad time for all of us. But getting yourself in a pissing contest with the new guy isn't going to help either Doggett or Mulder." "Not you too, Sir...not you. Don't you see? It's a whitewash. They're bringing in an under-qualified, inexperienced agent to head this so the FBI can look good. So that Kersh can pretend to be looking for its lost member of the flock. You and I both know Doggett's not going to be found like this. And last I checked, the FBI washed their hands clean of Mulder when Kersh fired him." "We may know better, but the best thing you can do for Doggett right now is play along." "I played along once, sir. It cost me everything." "Just watch what you say. I dont' want you kicked off this search party. We need you on the field too much." "I'll keep that in mind." Meanwhile…
Starkweather Residence Arlington, VA 9:33am
"Solid?" "It's a long-shot..." "Chasing a carrot at the end of a stick won't help you find either of them any faster." "I found out that somebody's been using the deceased card holder's numbers." "Who?" "They're tied to different companies. Most of which are bogus, and don't even exist. "Why? What's the point in going to all that trouble when it'd be just as easy for them to commit online credit card theft?" "To launder money for funding something big that they don't want us to get at." "Find out how the bogus companies are linked, and find out where the money's going, then you got the green light." "And if I can't?" "Then it's back to square one. And from the looks of things, Agent Adler, the new head of the Special Search team, is a reeeeal party animal." "Did you have anything to do with that?" "I didn't find out about that till last night just before Agent Adler found out himself, Bailey-girl. You think my only job is keeping the x-files agents in one piece?!" "If it is, then lately, you've been sleeping on the job," she said coldly, and hung up. Then she hit *5 for the Lone Gunmen. "Boys?" "Comin' back for more, Hurricane?" Frohike snickered. "Tell me, Ape-man...are you suicidal, or just plain stupid?" "Remind me never to be around on the days you've gotten up on the wrong side of bed again," Frohike grumbled, and then threw the phone down on the floor in reflex. "TELL LANGLY TO TURN OFF THAT GOD DAMN RECORDER!!" She was squealing as loud as she could "Nice to hear from you again, Agent Starkweather," Byers said, picking up the phone, "is there something else you need?" "Yeah...I need you to pull up anything similar purchases in those credit card receipts. There may be something there." Then she heard shuffling in the background, and the beep and whir of computers being booted up. A few minutes of silence. And then, Frohike could be heard in the background. "Damn, I wanted some of that." Then Langly. "You wish you could USE some of that!" "And they wonder why women resort to vibrators..." Starkweather mumbled. In unison, Langly and Frohike retorted, "Not after me!" "'Course, not like Monkey-boy would know..." Langly gloated. "Being a virgin and all." Frohike finished "And straight," Byers added. Then, into the phone, Byers said, "Agent Starkweather, on all four of those credit card numbers you gave me, there seems to be a purchase from PleasuresUnlimited.com, and it appears to be legit, but when you try to pull up purchasing orders, it gives only an 1-800 number, and that is busy." "So it's a ghost ship." "That seems to be the case." Back in Conference Room C "I don't like the way that prick was talking about them," Scully whispered back, "I really wished I had a glass of water handy to splash in his face." "A.D. Skinner," Addler said, "I believe Agent Reyes mentioned that you had found something in Nevada yesterday. Would you mind enlightening the rest of us?" "We found an adoption home in Nevada that is registered under the name Never Never Land. An anonymous informant tipped Agent Reyes off to rampant abductions that targeted several states, and clearly searched out children of adoptive parents. 80% of these children have defects that were, as Agents Scully and Starkweather can verify, not present at birth, but anomolies that developed later on in their lives." "And do Agents Scully or Starkweather have a theory as to why these anomolies developed?" "They are believed to be the result of testing done to them over the years at the hands of those in charge of Never Never Land. The children from Never Never Land were believed to be products of the abductees from previous years." "And who do you believe is responsible for their abduction?" "That, Agent Adler, is why we are here this morning." "And how exactly is this connected with Agent Doggett's disappearance?" "We think that Agent Doggett was on the verge of solving a case involving the people responsible for these actions. We believe he was taken so that the truth would never come to light." "So, all we have to do then is a crack-down on Never Never Land. A home for children. And where exactly are these children going to go when we bring this place down?" "They will be wards of the state, Agent." Skinner answered coolly. "With all due respect, Agent Addler, that's only the first step." Reyes spoke up. "And what makes you say that?" "Because if Never Never Land had the resources to conduct the tests, then hey had to be funded. It's a private home. I think all evidence shows that Never Never Land is just the tip of the iceberg." "Then by all means, Agent Reyes, where's my icepick?" Later that
afternoon So she started a load in the basement of her apartment building. Caesar spent the afternoon sulking because his highness had been neglected in Starkweather's efforts to find her missing partner. So, he spied a plant, one that he hadn't noticed before, and commensed to rip it to shreds to teach his mistress a lesson. "What the hell do you mean I can't get a fucking flight out to Denver till tonight?" She shrieked. "Lux...hang on a minute..." she said, putting the phone down, "DAMMIT! YOU FUCKING FURBALL!! Quit ruining the plant!!" "Well, you could drive there, but it would take about fourteen hours," he reminded her. "Doggett might not be able to wait till tonight. Wait a sec...I dont' have a plant." "I'm sorry, Jerilyn. It's the best I can get." "Not good enough!" she snapped, "you're CIA. You're supposed to be able to cut through the red tape. And I killed Doggett's plants...so it's not Doggett's...so why can't you get through red tape?" "Unfortunately, airports have so much red-tape to get through, you'd need a machete to get through all of it." "You guys have guns that aren't even on the market yet, and you can't get to a machete? And this fucking plant has a bug!!" "Some insecticide should clear that right up." "No, Lux. A BUG bug...have you guys been tracking me?" "Why would we be tracking you? Besides...I just called our tech guys. They haven't had a chance to bug your place yet..." "So you were going to bug my place?" She demanded, looking under everything for more bugs and mini-cams. "I can't fucking believe this!" she seethed, "You were going to bug my place. God dammit I know you guys are supposed to be protecting me and all, but playing peak-a-boo with a mini-cam in my fucking bathroom is NOT cool." "It wasn't us..." Carlos said meekly. "Yeah. Right. And reality TV isn't scripted." "Look, if you want us to look into who might be interested in peeping in on what you've been doing lately..." "Look, Lux...don't even try to deny it. I dont' care HOW you do it, if you have to ship me in a crate to get me to Denver, DO IT. I refuse to sit on my ass if there's a lead I can follow. And tell the ferrets to stay the HELL outta my bathroom!" "Maybe I can pull a few strings...look...I'll call you back if anything changes. In the meantime, just sit tight." Then in the street below, tires screeched, and Starkweather got to her
window just in time to see the tail-lights of a black SUV heading for the
expressway.
The Lonegunmenmobile "I TOLD you we shouldn't have put the minicam in the plant!" Byers said. "Yeah well, where do you recommend hiding it, Monkeyboy? Up Caesar's ass? And she didn't have anything unpacked yet...not like you had any better ideas. Come on! Langly, you drive like a grandma." "If we goes any faster, the engine is going to fall out, and no way in hell are we gonna catch up to that SUV!" Byers shouted back from the passenger's side front seat. "That's the last time we let Christy Brinkley over there do the driving." Frohike grumbled. "Be quiet or I'm stopping the van and turning it around, and we'll just let the SUV get away." Langly scolded. "Just drive!" Frohike and Byers shouted in unison. And a beat-up old van and an SUV squealed around the corner. "Next ticket for you after we get outta this van, Martin, is the cluebus," said a a wirey man in the driver's seat. "F*ck! We shouldna parked so close to her sidewalk!" Their companion cursed from the behind them. He was tall and wirey, and looked as though you could crush him if you nudged him a little too hard. "What would you suggest, Barn" Elvis retorted, "telepathic messages?" "Just drive! That beat-up old van is getting closer!" "Geez! Who do those guys think they are?!" Elvis blurted out "The A-Team?" "I don't care if they're the friggin' prize patrol, if they catch us, we're dead." Eugene Maleski grumbled. "Turn left," Martin commanded. "No, you idiot! Turn the other left!" Eugene yelled. "F*CK!!" Frohike cursed "And I'd turn around but this is a one-way street..." Langly said "Look at all the millions of people around, Barbiebrain...cops are all out eatin' their donuts about now and aren't going to give a flying rat's ass if we pull a u-ey." "Ok...Hold on tight everybody," Langly said, and sparks flew as metal met brick. "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" Byers and Frohike both said. "I'm going to be sick." Byers whined. "Hooooooooooly...." Langly muttered, as he saw the SUV careening towards him. The brakes screetched as he slammed on them. The van shook with a very loud crash as metal-met-metal. "Well...I'd say that was an improvement to the van." Byers said. "Thank you Merry Sunshine." Frohike grumbled, "Now I suggest we try and find out who these narcs are trying to get a looksee into the Starkweather's apartment." "Guys..." Byers said, "I don't think we have to." And then Langly heard the click of the gun, and looked to see a tall, dignified black man dressing in a very nice, expensive suit holding a gun to Byers' head. And Frohike saw two figures approaching them. One had stringy dirt-colored hair that hadn't been washed, brushed or cut in a while sporting an Elvis t-shirt and Sally-Jessy-Raphael-red glasses and the other was tall and wirey and...almost shrivled. They both approached the car, and were sporting M32 rifles. "They've got guns," Langly said. "I've noticed that," Frohike whispered. "How come we don't have guns?" Langly asked "You'd shoot your eye out," Frohike replied. "Who are you?" The black man asked. "I'm Ringo Langly," Langly chirpped, "the short, dumpy one over here's Melvin Frohicke, and my associate you've got a gun pointed at over there is John Byers. And we," Langly beamed proudly, "are the Lonegunmen. Defender of all...that...need defending." "It's the A-Team." The one in the red-glasses grumbled. "Who are you?" Frohike demanded. Meanwhile "Well..." Scully sighed, "I should call mom and let her know what's going on. Maybe check on Starweather before we head out of town." "I'm really surprised Jerilyn's bowing out...she's not the type to just sit on the sidelines when it's two on and two out in the bottom of the ninth." "I didn't know you liked baseball." "I don't. Just the metaphors." Scully fished her cellphone out of her blazer pocket and hit Starkweather's autodial. "Weird...she's out of service. I'd expect that from Mulder. Not her. She's not absent-minded like that." "Well, you've been known to loose your head when things get crazy...we all have. Think we better go check on her?" Reyes offered while Scully hit the autodial for her mother. "Mom? Hi, it's me. Listen...I hate to dump on you like this, but they're sending us out to Nevada...no, nothing yet. Yeah Mom, everything's fine. I just need you to take William for a couple of days while we're on FBI business...great. I'll be over in about an hour with him. See ya soon. Bye." They were going to lock the office for the day when they saw a small dark-haired figure waiting for them. "Isobel?!" They both gawked. "Hola!" She chirpped. "Tu les Agentis Federales. Soy mucho lo siento." "Gracias," Scully said one of the two only Spanish words she knew. "¿Cómo?" Reyes asked. "The gunmen." Reyes translated loosely for Scully's benefit. "Isobel," Scully said as gently as she could, "it's not that we're not thrilled to see you...but..." "Busy, I know...but mia Phineas est Agente Federalis also. That's why I came. He was just appointed here." "¿Qué es Phineas' el apellido?" Reyes asked on a hunch. "What's his last name?" She said for Scully's benefit. "I want all the world to know that little sh*t's last name so he can go back to Hell where he belogs. Adler." "¿Cómo obtendría usted mezcló con él?" And then to Scully, "I asked her how she got mixed up with him." "The internet," she answered bitterly, "Came to this country for Manny and him, and he treats me like garbage. El mierda debe quemar," she snapped viciously. "Scully...why don't you go pack," Reyes said. "I'll meet you at the airport." "Isobel...I hate to cut this short, but we're leaving in less than an hour..." "With a drug dealer leading your team." "What?!" Scully and Reyes both gawked. "See...I got to know the slime on the internet, but I met him when he came to Santa Lucia. He was working for cartel." "What was he doing for the cartel? Did you know?" "From what he told me, he was arranging to take the drugs over the boder." "He told you all this?" "He was bragging, thinking it was going to impress me or something. Didn't know I had Agentes federales for friends," she grinned. Back in the basement office "I printed out all the emails he sent me where he bragged about all the drug deals like a sick love puppy." "Great! You remember Mr. Skinner from La Luna Blanca?" "The bald grumpy one? Ayeyaiyai!" "Tienes prueba que Adler sea traficante de drogas?" Then she turned to Scully, "I asked her if she had proof." "In my car, with all that I have." "Excellente! Can you bring the emails with you to Mr. Skinner's office with me, por favor?" "Si. To get the...what do you say...bad man?" "Depends on who you're talking to." "I wont offend if I swear?" "Son of a b*tch...*sshole...mother-f*cker..." Reyes rattled off. "She kisses her mama with that mouth, Agent Scully?" "It's ok to swear when you stub your toe, or boyfriends ruin your life," then she swore under her breath, "Mulder, you fucking sonovabitch! Before I sat foot in that office, I never cussed." "Tu besas tu mama con esa boca, Agent Reyes?" "Mi Mama este en Texas. No puede oir mi jurars en D.C." "What did you two say to each other?" "She wanted to know if I kissed my mother with this mouth." "What did you say?" "That mama was in Texas, and couldn't hear my swears in D.C." "Makes sense. Too bad my mother doesn't live across the country," Scully mumbled, "speaking of which, I need to take William over to her place. So you won't mind if you talk to Skinner about what Isobel said? If you need me to varify it later, I'll be happy to. But I really need to get going." "Sir I--?" "Kimberly, I need all appointments cleared today, and I need you to find nine flights to Nevada." "Should I spin gold from my hair too while I'm at it sir?" "Just do the best you can." "Sir? Agent Reyes, and a Miss Ibarra here to see you. She says it's urgent. Concerning Adler." "Send them in." "Reyes, Miss Ibarra. Quite a surprise to see you here. Agent Reyes, this better make headlines, because time isn't something we've got a surplus on." "Sir...I have proof that Agent Adler might not be what he appears to be." "Agent Reyes, I know Adler is a d*ck, but Kersh appointed him, so you'll just have to deal with him the best you can. Dealing with coworkers we don't like, unfortunately, are a part of the job. What's she doing here?" "If you give me a minute, Assistant Director," Isobel said venomously, "I will ejaculate," as soon as she said it, Reyes' doe-eyes widened in embarrassment, and Skinner's head turned pink. Reyes shook her head vehelmently. "Masturbate?" Isobel puzzled. Skinner coughed nervously. "Elaborate!" Reyes hissed. "Eeeee-laaaa-borr-aaate." Isobel said. "Lo siento, Agent Skinner. I'm still learning." "Couldn't tell," Skinner grumbled. "Sir, Miss Ibarra has some information on Agent Adler that I don't think will make headlines, but if this man stays on this mission, it might make heads roll." "Can you elaborate?" Skinner had difficulty saying this with a straight face, and Reyes had to pretend she was coughing to keep from bursting out into gales of laughter. "I met Agent Adler a few years ago when he came to my town. There's this local cartel. Our farm never did...but others...my neighbors and family...grew marijuana and cocaine plants to be harvested for the cartel. Adler was with the local cartel when he came. He was taking it over the border with him. Over the last years, we write eachother. E-mails. See, in this one," she said, producing a crumpled piece of computer paper, "he brags about taking all those drugs over the boarder. I didn't know he was an agent until my brother Manual told me." "Are you willing to say all this again in a courtroom?" "You bet your tamales I am." "Thank you, Ms. Ibarra. We'll be in touch." "Agent Skinner?" Isobel said as she rose to leave. "Yes...si?" "I hope you find El Zorro and El Perro soon." <El Perro?> Skinner mouthed to Reyes Isobel left with a tentative nod. "The dog," Reyes said when she left, "that's Manny's nickname for Doggett." "Kimberly?" Skinner said into the reciever, "pencil in
'killing the Lone Gunmen' on my schedule before Friday, please." 9:47 AM "The Mulder problem is taken care of, I believe. None of them are a threat to us with Mulder out of the game. I believe Agent Starkweather is preoccupied, and is not a problem at all. My grandson no longer remains a threat without his father. Not what I had planned at all. We don't want a high profile, and the way that Mulder died, I'm afraid, is the stuff of very bad movies with over-paid actors. But I want my grandson protected." he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. "But if he's not a threat without Mulder...?" "Information is a funny thing. It can either save you or kill you. Some people have been misinformed that my grandson is a threat to them, and demand his head on a platter." "Agent Scully and the CIA can help..." "They don't know how. And therein lies the beauty of it. I am the only one who knows exactly how that child can stay alive. If we have the savior and the sword in our corner, then we have the upperhand. That child is both. Even though he is an infant, he may still proove to be very useful. When he grows up, learns bitterly to hate his parents as every child does eventually, he may be useful still." "How does Bravo fit the equation, sir?" "She will be his mother." "Do you know where she is?" "She is at these coordinations," she said, handing her a peice of paper, "I want you to find her. Give her these instructions." "Consider it done." "God...what the hell am I doing?" Connor mumbled, and sped off towards the airport. He had a plane to catch. Payton, New Mexico had exactly two convenience stores, a motel, a diner, and a stop-light. And six baptist churches. All the size of a block. And a warehouse. The warehouse all had shipments out to the same PO Box, with a zip code that seemed to be...in another place out in the middle of nowhere. Only this middle of nowhere was in Nevada. And he'd happily relay this information to Carlos if he hadn't gotten lost. Apparently the airport wasn't where the signs said it was. He missed Scully's navigating. He was looking for some place to stop for directions when he came across a
cave with six SUV's unloading... A crib...that looked like the one William had. A playpen that looked like William's... <Oh God.> Mulder swallowed down the panic, <He's going to kidnap him...> "Not a good school-zone around here," Mulder shouted, and cocked his weapon. "What are you going to do, Mulder?" The old man sneered, "shoot me?" "Leave them alone!" "You don't get it, do you, Son?" "LEAVE THEM ALONE!" He shouted again. "They're not worth it. This is between you and me." "What are they worth to you, Fox? Are they worth your freedom? Are they worth the life you've striven for? Are you worth their freedom? Everything they've striven for? Because that's what you'll be asking of them." "You mean that's what you'll be taking from them." "It doesn't have to be that way, son." The old man coaxed, "it could be so very much easier on them. And on you." "It's me you want." "You underestimate the value of my grandson. My grandson was born to do great things. He is of the same roots as you. And me. And Bravo. With his inheritence, he can save us all. Your little family seems to be quite an assett to my aspirations. You could make it so very easy on them." "I'm not letting you take them away from me." "If you leave, I wouldn't have to take them away." "NO!" "The choice is quite simple. With your recent end, you could stay away. Let your little family go on without you." "Careful old man. As last living relative, I get to pick your nursing home. Actually," Mulder said thoughtfully, "some indeginous tribes just leave their elderly on a cliff...to die. Should have thought about that while you still had control over HMO's." "The offer still stands." "I believe I just rammed a wrecking-ball through it, *Dad*," he sneered. "Tell me where Bravo is," he growled, shoving the barrel of his gun into the old man's temple. "TELL ME!" "She will kill you when she finds you, Mulder." "I'm a dead man anyway, right?" He said as he left. Then hoped to God he could find his way back to the airport. He had to find Bravo before she found William. Mulder didn't even wait to get booked onto a plane. He just drove for twenty-eight hours straight until he got to the church in Montana. "Mulder, this is good stuff, but without proof to nail him, it still doesn't give me a smoking gun." Lux Carlos said. "I saw it all Carlos. The FBI needs red tape to find their offices. I thought the CIA didn't need it at all. I joined you to protect my son. If you can't help me do that, then I won't let you play in my tree-fort." "You want to protect your son?" Mulder nodded. "This is a CIA credit card. It has no spending limits, and can get you any plane ticket, car rental, laptops, cell phones, weapons, anything you need to complete the job. Although personally, I wouldn' use B.O. as Bravo's offense." "So I can go after her?" "You know I want that b*tch taken down because she's a threat to Starkweather, and she's bad for our business. If you don't get Bravo, you have to pay all your expenditures back." Equipped with a CIA credit card with unlimited spending, if he was going to go one-way without raising suspicions, he was going to have to get luggage. And the clothes he was wearing were starting to ripen, so he found a tax-exempt shop in the airport, and the airport surprisingly had a brook's brother's store. He found a couple of suits that Doggett or Skinner would approve of. He wanted to find some polo shirts, but they didn't have any in his size. So he went to t-shirt shop next door. All they had was a bunch of tacky t-shirts with the word 'Wyoming' printed on them, a shirt that said "My Karma Ran Over Your Dogma" another one that read "I'm With Stupid," with an arrow beneathe it, and another that had a picture of the gifted student pushing the door you were supposed to pull. He grabbed the one that read, "I'm With Stupid," and he decided he'd be better dressed when he had more time to shop. "Last call from Wyoming to Denver, now boarding," the loud-speaker squawked, and he got his bags and bolted for the terminal, not caring who he bumped into. The flight was four hours long, and he slept the whole way. He went to get his luggage, and it never appeared through the conveyor belt. He found the service desk. "Sir," the lady droned and looked over her bigger-than-life glasses to glare at him. "Skinner, you said?" "Yeah...AD Walter S. Skinner." "Luggage of that name is being flown out of Dulles International. We can have it forwarded to you in a week...or... "I don't have a week." "You can purchase a ticket to Dulles and get your luggage. "I'll buy the ticket." "That'll be $300. Sorry for the inconvenience," She said automatically. He presented his CIA credit card. "Flight leaves in thirty minutes from terminal B."
Meanwhile "Pointing guns at friend's heads makes me real chatty, Frohicke. ‘Cept probably right now if Mr. T over there wants to put a cap in your ass, I'll be quiet as a mime." "What's your business here?" King asked Byers, ramming the barrell of his gun harder against his temple. "We're not at liberty to say." "That's our line," Frohicke said. "Look, gentlemen," Byers said, as calm and collected and as reasonable as he could be with a bullet a trigger-pull away from exploding into his brain, "you don't know our business. We don't know yours. For all we know, we may both very well be after the same thing. We could help each other out." "HELP! Captain Alzheimers, would brains smattering all over the pavement today be an improvement on your mental capabilities? They could be anybody!" Frohike exploded. "Yeah...like government spies anybodies," Langly offered, at which point, the three all averted their gazes to anywhere else except on the three men that had crashed into their SUV. "It's MY brains that are going to be on the pavement, Frohicke," he argued. "They ARE Government spies!" Langly crowed. "Yes...we work for the government. But we're not spies. We're T.I.T.'s" "Boobs, maybe." Frohike jeered. "Thank you for feeding into his delusion." Byers grumbled. "No problem," the thin, lanky one chirped. "We're T-I-T's. Technical Interloper Technicians." "How come we couldn't have a name like the Lone Gunmen. TITs are just plain stupid," the lanky one complained. "It doesn't matter what we're called," Mr. King said, "what matters is that this meeting never happened. You don't know us, we don't know you. Tell anyone, we can make you not exist anymore." "Oh yeah!" Langly retorted, "Well...wanna challenge me to dungeons and dragons? You're picking on the wrong guy." "D&D Manno 'ey Manno?! You're on!" The lanky one squeaked. "So...that cooperation thing is out, then?" Byers said. "NEVER happened." King said again, and they all walked off and walked away. "Aw, man!" The Lanky One protested, "I wanted to play!" "TITS?!?" Langly Byers and Frohike all blurted out.
"Bwahahahahahahahahahahaahhahaahhahaaha!" Doggett may have been in a prison, but he was no prisoner. Prisoners had nothing to hope for. Nothing to live for. No reason to want anything more than the current miserable state of affairs. It makes them desperate. It makes them something less than human. If his abduction had happened earlier, Special Agent John Doggett would have crawled into the solid barricades. Days melting into each other like some surreal painting here as they did every damn day before he was Somebody. Before he was a father. After he wasn't a father anymore. After he wasn't a husband anymore. Before the X-Files found him. Before Doc... He couldn't think like that. He wouldn't want to get out if he kept thinking like that. "So...I was figurin'..." Doggett said to Joe as the two men dug, "on a way to get us out." "Fibbie, you've gottta be crazy." "I heard that's what prison does to some people. We are in prison, right?" "What you so desperate to go back to? Some hot chick who's bawlin' her eyes out for ya back home?" "Not 'xactly. She's prob'ly runnin' 'round tryin' to find my sorry *ss and get me outta here." "Lemme guess...she's one of those feminist uberbitch liberated types. She trained ya, didn't she?" "She's watchin' my back is all. We're...oh hell...we were partners," Doggett shook his head, "I dunno what we were." "Yup. She trained ya. See...I was a drone of my own free will back home. Worked at this plant. I got nobody to go back to. Here...I got somethin'. I'm Joe Shepherd. The guy who knows his way around this place. Who gives the new abductees the advice to keep them alive. I was a peon back home. Here, I'm a goddamn hero. A guy can get off on that, you know?" "I ain't a friggin' hero." "You're a fed." "Maybe, but I ain't a hero. Just doin' my job. And if I wanna keep doin' my job, I can't stay here. I'm deadweight here. And if you don't do anything to help, then you're just as muchova deadweight as I am. More of a peon than you were when you were free." "Where am I gonna go? My job's been given to another peon by now. My apartment's been rented out to somebody else. When some big bad boss asks 'Why haven't you been employed in the last year, Mr. Shepherd?' and I say, 'Oh, I've been abducted by men bent on world domination,' it ain't exactly a green light for hiring. Tell me, big shot? Where the hell am I gonna go?" "Look me up. I've got some friends out there who can hook ya up. If you wanna stay here and rot, that's fine by me. But I can't stay. I've got work to do." Joe sighed. "Find what we're diggin' for. It seems to stop the gaurds in their tracks. That's our way out."
It didnt make Sharon Kuhn mad that she was dying. It wasn't that she hated her life, but working as a forest ranger in Arizona she understood that death was a part of life. What killed her was that people kept treating her like a ghost...as though she might break any minute--or worse...as though she really needed that fifteenth chicken-broccolli-noodle casserole. Bellefleure was a small town, so everyone knew. Medical confidenciality was nonexistant in a doctor's office where the girl who sat behind you all through high school filed your insurance. They were all well-meaning. They all tried to act as though she were perfectly healthy, but it was always the same. Everyone gave her these barely polite, pitying smiles, and either avoided her, or gushed over her as if making her feel better was doing them a favor. What made her furious was that she was dying of something beyond this world. She was already feeling tired from just getting up in the morning. The last couple of weeks, she had been tired from trying to go to sleep. She was already making an effort to breathe. She was going to loose her hair. And she couldn't shake the feeling that the night in the woods had something to do with her present...condition? No...that was a word for people giving birth. Life-station? God no...that sounded like something form those over-paid seminars. No matter how poetically detached you put it, she was dying. One night, she awoke to her father shouting into the telephone. "Look, Charlie, my little girl doesn't want the doctors making her want to die to get better. What the hell do you think They'll do to her? Yes, I know what they did...yeah...well...uh-huh. Look. Do I hafta spell it out for you? I KNOW those people can help, but it's not the kind of help I want. Their kind of help is suicide. They may be the root of the cancer, but I'll be damned if I let them finish her off. Thanks for the heads-up. Hey! Why don't you bring the family to come see us this summer? Yeah, I got your Christmas card. They grow like weeds, don't they? Sharon? She's...fine...I guess..." Harry Kuhn's chatter trailed off as his daughter's form looked almost skeletal to him as she appeared in the hallway. It terrified him. "They...caused...they *made* me...who's the root of my cancer, Daddy?" She quavered. -- Reyes was always a minimalist packer. She never brought more than she needed, and it always took about ten minutes to throw some things in a bag, so while she had a few minutes to kill anyway, she made up excuses for reasons to go to Doggett's apartment. He was going to need someone to bring in the mail, get his messages, after all, wasn't he? Maybe he would need a plant. Which would need watering. And papers were going to build up if she didnt do something about that... no telling how long it would be before he got back. Maybe...he wouldn't... "Can't think like that, now...doesn't make things better. We'll find him. Maybe not today...but he's not..." Pullyourselftogetherpullyourselftogether Feeling like a trespasser, as though he was somehow disturbing sacred ground she let herself in. She was a trespasser with a key, but nonetheless, a trespasser. "Anybody home?" She called out on an impulse, "What the hell am I saying..." she muttered bitterly, "nobody's home." The phone rang, and she let the answering machine pick it up. "You know the drill. I'll get back to you when I can," his voice drawled. A woman with a pronounced southern drawl answered after the beep. "Hey Johnny," she said, sounding anxious, "It's Mel. Tried your cell and it was out of service, called down at the office, didn't get an answer, so I tried here. Just wanted to let you know how the proceedings went, and...oh hell, I was always lousy with excuses. Just worried about you. Give me a call when you get this...or...whenever. Try me at home first." Reyes rushed to pick up the phone, and then stopped herself short. She knew John had two sisters and a brother, but hadn't met his family before. She had seen them only once in her life at Luke's funeral, but they never really talked. Telling her about how they were looking for her brother who had disappeared didn't seem to be the best icebreaker. And she sure as hell wasn't going to do it over the phone. <But who knows?> she thought, <We could find him tomorrow. They may never have to know.> God, she hoped so. In the taxi, Starkweather nervously fiddled with the ring. "Isn't there a shortcut or a back road or...or...something?!" She shrieked. "Look, it ain't like a life is on the line if you miss that plane. Just hold your horses. We'll get there." "Oh, Doc, one more thing," he said, and tossed her a small solitaire engagement ring. "Some proposal," she deadpanned, "I thought Mulder had lost it in Arizona. Thank you...for keeping it for me." The fact that she didn't put it on again immediately did not escape him. "Shoulda given it back to you sooner. Just...I dunno...never seemed to be a right time." "To be honest," she admitted, "I don't know if I wanted it back." "I know loosing your husband like the way you did don't exactly stock up to what happened with Luke... "No..." she interrupted bitterly, "you were still speaking to Luke when...sorry...just me being a bitter old widow." "They found his body a few days before they found his bike. Mickey found it, and he was the one who had helped me put that friggin' contraption together for Luke's last Christmas. He brought it over to Barb and me...and...I went ballistic. It was connected to Luke. I was so mad at him for leavin’, I didn't want anything 'round that reminded me of 'im. You've gotta 'nough reasons to be mad at Ben. But if you're gonna hate somebody, then you may as well hate me, ‘cause hating someone who can't hate you back wears the life outta you like runnin' ragged on a hamster wheel." "Papa John, you could charm the pants off of a rattlesnake." He took her tiny hands in his big ones, opened her left hand which was still clutching the ring, and took it in his hand. "Forgiving 'im might be harder 'n' hell right now, and it won't happen today...next week...or even next month...but I can't just let the hate drain the life outta you. Seein' you bitter and withdrawn the way you've been lately...frankly...scares the shit outta me." "I've always been bitchy." "Bitchy yeah...but lately...you've been just plain spiteful and ornery. The way an old lady acts when she's given up on life. The thought of you just...giving up...terrifies me." "Me too..." she confessed, "but I can't..." "Yes..." he said, slipping the ring on her finger, "you can." Doggett woke up with a start. He went back to sleep. He wanted to dream again of moments like that...when he watched her back, when she watched his. It was the only thing of freedom he knew. Dulles International Airport -- If the suitcase hadn't had the map and the disk containing the dotcom company portfolios and crime database searches hidden in the lining, Mulder never would've even bothered following it into such risky territory. He could be seen. And they would be dead. And nothing else would matter anymore. So he had to have that map. He had to have that disk. Even though the lead wasn't solid, he had to follow it up. It was a lead. There was a chance. It was a start. If the syndicate had a place like that to their disposal, he would dig through the walls they constructed with a toothpick if he had to. No way in hell was he going to let William grow up in a place like that. No way in hell was he going to let Scully, Starkweather, or anyone be taken there. No one deserved that hell. No one except for the men who built it. He was waiting at the service desk when he heard a huge crowd of about 35 people ramble through. "Listen up, everyone!" Someone bellowed, "Rules are: Don't do anything stupid. That includes things we can get big lawsuits for. Make sure you bag and tag this one. I don't want anyone to go scot-free on red tape. Don't waste resources. I don't want anyone hurt unless necessary. The tag word here is caution agents," they were all herding towards a terminal. "Sir..." a familiar voice interrupted, "are you sure you should be leading in light of the recent charges brought on you?" <<Skinner????>> "No, I won't be in charge. Agents, in light of recent...evidence...Agent Judeth Fishy--" "That's Ficshe," a whiney male voice squeaked, "you know...like Go Fish." The 'e' is silent." "...will be taking over this investigation. SheeeeHe will be working in close conjunction with Agents Scully and Reyes." <<Scully!?!?!? Reyes!?!?!?! Here!?!??!?! Oh God...Where to hide? Where to hide?> He found an empty desk with a phone that accessed the PA system, and checked the flight schedule for the call numbers for the flight to Nevada. He was right in front of terminal 33. He tried to sound as perky as possible. "Southwestern Airlines flight 433 from Washington to Nevada now boarding in terminal 3." "Monica..." Scully thought aloud, "Does that sound like...Mul..." "Flight 433 from Washington to Nevada now boarding." "MULDER?!??!" "Passengers," came a crisp voice, "ignore the last call. Southwestern Airlines flight 433 from Washington to Nevada should report to terminal 31. Last call for Delta Airlines flight 529 from Washington to Denver. Security, we have a situation at terminal 10,11, 12, and 13." Mulder used the confusion to make his escape, and managed to get in the passenger line for that flight. "Ticket, sir" the fat stewardess said. Then someone behind him started ranting about how she couldn't bring her four cats on the plane with her. He wormed his way on board. "Scully? Are you ok?" "I could have sworn..." she whispered. "Here." a greasy, short, bald man in a clip-on bowtie said, handing her a card. Scully and Reyes both glared at him. "I'm Judeth Fische. That," he said, pointing to the card, "is a very good psychiatrist."
The company the gunmen had traced for her was called Valdemort Elsinore Inventory, Incorporated. She set up a bogus account and emailed them on her laptop, courtesy of the FBI. <<Now how do I sound like I've got a LOT of money?>> To: Prospective Business Partners <inquiries@MalivortElsinoreInventoriesInc.net>
Dear Prospective Business Partners My client, Milton Stratford of the Virginian Stratfords, is highly interested in investing into your company. As per my advise, he does not make sizable investments blindly and wishes that I observe how your operations are handled. Contact me at this e-mail address to set-up an appointment. Sincerely, Monica Doggett Scully <<I knew all that time spent at those god-awful parties with my stepmother's snotty friends wasn't for nothing>> Then she emailed the Lone Gunmen To: The Lone Gunmen <oswaldwasframed@thelonegunmen.com>
To: Jerilyn Starkweather <DocHurricane@aol.com>
New address? And what do you think we are? Miracle workers? To: The Lone Gunmen <Oswaldwasframed@thelonegunmen.com
When I moved I changed accounts to get free internet. I don't want something pretty. I need proof to give them if they ask. This could be a huuuuge breakthrough. I'll owe you guys one big time. To: The Lone Gunmen <oswaldwasframed@thelonegunmen.com>
Here ya go. Yes, you owe us one big time. www.scullytrades.net. It's a bogus link. Tell them you've got tech guys working on it. But they can look it up in the index and see the site. Sending you certs and license you can print from an outside port. To: Scully, Monica Doggett. <MonicaDoggettScully@hotmail.com>
We are very intrigued by your inquiry and would be interested in meeting with you to discuss current and future investment opportunities for your client. To: Carr, Hilda. <Carr.Hilda@MalivortElisnore.net
I am on my way to Denver currently, and can meet with you today if possible. I have enclosed a .Zip file of my portfolio, and included a website for my clients. www.scullytrades.net.
How does 3:30 sound? And the website isn't working. To: oswaldwasframed@thelonegunmen.net,
Skin_man54@hotmail.com, LightCharlie@hotmail.com Showtime's at 3:30. She bought it hook line and sinker. I'll keep you guys posted.
En Route to Oregon Scully was knocked out. As per Reyes' request, the flight attendant had given her some benedryl to make her drowsy. Reyes had doubted she slept much since the investigation exploded. Fortunately, since everyone was afraid of flying and this wasn't tourist season, the seat next to Reyes was empty, and Skinner took it. "If this doesn't work," Reyes whispered, "we need to tell Doggett's family in Savannah. They should know what's happened." "Jesus Christ. He's got a family? I thought there was just his estranged ex-wife." "Two sisters and a brother and a mother still alive and well in Savannah." "I guess we should call them when we get back to DC." "Sir, this isn't a late payment or a party invitation. We're telling them their flesh-and- blood is MIA. And in layman's terms, that's as good as dead. You owe Doggett that much. So do I." "Then if this search turns up nothing, we'll take the first flight out to Savannah. I'll e-mail Kim to get plane tickets booked." "Don't count on going to Savannah." Reyes answered. Starkweather had gone undercover before. If she had to live as a college student again, she could pretend to be interested in a company that sold...sex toys. At one of the tax-exempt shops, she got a compact advantix camera. She needed something that didn't need advancing. "Sex toys," she had rehearsed in the mirror in the Denver Airport
Bathroom. She had to get used to saying it with a straight face. She rented a car, found the Denver Library so she could print out directions courtesy of Mapquest, and followed the directions. "Funny. Looks more like a library than a warehouse," she muttered, looking up at the huge structure in front of her. A perky blonde receptionist greeted her at a desk in the front office. Eileen Bishop was clearly embossed on her brass-plated nametag. "Could you tell your boss that Monica D. Scully is here?" She said. Pleaseletmefindsomethingpleaseletmefindsomething she prayed silently. "'K," she answered MUCH too happily, "Show me some I.D., and then take a seat. Management will be with you in just a minute," she took a sip of her caffeine. "I don't think uppers are the best idea for you." Starkweather mumbled. Eileen just glared at her. Starkweather thought it was too bad there were laws against shooting people like her. The elevator door opened to reveal a tall, tanned-all-over, well-dressed man who looked more like a male model than a CEO. Eileen Bishop rushed up to him. "You're after lunch appointment is here Mr. Vaughn." "They told me she was brilliant..." he said, grinning lasciviously, "some things were kept secret." "You have no idea..." Starkweather mumbled. Eileen glared at her again. "Hold my appointments, Ms. Bishop, and cancel my calls," he boomed. He acted more like a male model than a CEO too. "Shall we start with the offices?" Starkweather said. She had to start somewhere. "Offices it is then." "B*tch!" Eileen hissed as the elevator door closed. Starkweather suppressed a groan and crossed her fingers. Bellefleure, Oregon They had gotten toughed-out grad school at UCLA. Bellamy with a masters in journalistic reporting, and Sharon with a masters in forestry. Bellamy had been less than thrilled when she had been assigned her internship with a renegade reporter in Mexico City with a reporter renowned for UFO's. Sharon was envious. "Sharon!" Bellamy protested, "Ibarra's a hack! I wanted to get the scoop on the oil spills. Now, with Senor Manual Ibarra and the people who have all seen Close Encounters one too many times...looks like the biggest interview I'm gonna be getting is some loony who saw bright lights while having one too many. I started out in this, hoping to get printed into the New York Times...now looks like I'll be lucky to get an article into the National Enquirer." "More people read the Enquirer than the Times," Sharon helped, "besides, Bell...Mexico! I've always wanted to got here!" "Too bad I don't like Mexican food," Bellamy grumbled. Sharon was the first person she called when she got her biggest headline: US Organization Related to Mexican Abductions Bellamy was the first person Sharon called when she got her job at her first state park. Bellamy lead the search with the Kuhns when Sharon disappeared. The possibility that the people she exposed in Mexico City might have kidnapped her best friend to keep the truth hidden didn't escape her. Bellamy was the first person Sharon called when she heard her diagnosis. Maybe that's why things had been icy between them. It was easy to say goodbye to someone you're angry with. It was the wee hours of the morning, but Bellamy was awake. She was a natural insomniac. Sharon wasn't. Which was why it surprised to see her number on the caller ID. "Bell...do you still have the number of that reporter in Mexico City? I think..." she took in a reedy breath, "I think he can help." "Is that a Miss or Misses Scully?" Mr. Vaughn leered. "It's Doctor, Mr. Vaughn. And is this a business or a singles bar?" Starkweather spat. "Oh." he fumbled. "You can call me Henry. He slipped her his neatly-printed expensive-looking card. You can call me anytime." "No...I can't, actually. I'm part of a worldwide conspiracy. My phones are tapped, and calling me would put you on their hit list. Can you show me the restroom? It's been a long flight and I really need to freshen up a bit." Sad part of that is, it was the truth. "Down the hall on your left," he answered weakly. She spied the computer terminals, and since it was so late in the afternoon, most of them were empty. She retrieved a disk she brought from her laptop, and put it in the A drive. PASSWORD Blinked in front of her. The Lone Gunmen would have probably been good friends with the kid sitting at the terminal in front of her. "Hey...listen, sorry...I'm new here...just started today." He didn't look up from his work. "I was wondering if you could help me?" The kid was still ignoring her. "Um...sure..." the kid mumbled on auto-pilot. "What kinda stuff do we sell here?" "They never told you?" He said, still not looking up from the work. "Um...I never...asked?" Starkweather said. "They told me we sold sex toys and all that crazy shit. And I take tons of orders for that...but the weird thing is...this guy Pete's a friend of mine in shipping said they were hauling a crapload of supplies and shit like you send to soldiers. And something else fucked up...they had the same snail-mail for a buddy of mine's uncle who passed away, lived alone. Same name and everything. And I plugged in his credit card number. I just punch the numbers, don't ask questions." "Think you can tell that to a judge and jury?" "Will it get me on Law and Order?" "You wanna be on THAT dreck?" "Last time I'm ever a fountain of info.” She had spent enough time with the Lone Gunmen. Anything they did, her photographic memory recalled. It was a snap getting into the mainframe. Ok...Shipments made... FHCP94001 Now lets see what you delivered. Shipments received... M1694001 <<Why do they match? It's gotta be a code. But damn...I left my Little Orphan Annie Decoder ring at home.>> She got her cell phone out and relayed the numbers she found to Carlos. She got a reply back... "M-16 Mach. Guns? Ck fed data for serial nos." She couldn't risk getting caught with that sort of info on this intranet. If they were possibly tied to the syndicate, they'd be on her like flies on sh*t. She'd have to wait till she could get to the laptop. And Bachelor number three was probably getting antsy by now. She couldn’t afford anyone getting suspicious. Then Doggett would never get home. "YOU WHAT?!?!" Father Carlos exploded. "You're a priest. You have to forgive me." "The f--" then Mulder heard Carlos mumbling something like 'Sorry'. "Jesus CHRIST I really really REALLY hate being a priest." "No sex?" "No...no cussing." "They use the word ass in the Bible. And the word orgy." "Thank you, Billy Graham." "What happened?" "I came to DC, because the damn Stewardess told me my luggage was there." "You WHAT?!?" "I think it was the real Skinner's luggage, though..." "What...oh...God..." then mumbling, "Sorry." "They were headed in my direction, and so I kinda sorta got detoured over to Denver." "Oh. God." "No apologies to deities?" "No...that was a prayer." "Didn't know you were a religious man." "Only since working with you." "Starkweather found something you may wanna whiff of. Bunch of shipments were made. She's checking the serial numbers sometime later today. I'll email you the shipping codes. I'll run it by FedEx to see if they can make anything of it. Then Cryptology if that doesn't come through. Did they see you?" "I don't think so..." "Good, because if they find out you're alive right now, all bets are off." "I get that a lot."
There were some days when Doggett had to remind himself how to breathe. That he'd have freedom someday. That there was a reason to go back. He didn't understand why Joe Shepherd liked the prison so much at first, and now he was beginning to call the place home. A kid with his head shaved bald and deep gray eyes started working the fields with Joe and the rest of Group B one day. Doggett hated to see kids being taken here. Men his age were walking corpses for the majority anyway, but kids...promises were still real...still attainable. This place took away promise. At least promises of becoming anything worth while. "Ever think about going back? About breaking free?" The kid asked them. "Joe here's gonna help me out when we get back," Doggett said. "The hell I--" Joe interrupted. "I'm a fed back home. He's gonna help me on some cases when I need it. If he wants. Ever think about startin' up a PI office, Joe?" "I think the prison's finally getting to your head, John. Get it through your thick skull, Fed, I like it here." "No...I'm serious...we could use a guy on the side...who can go through places feds can't get at. You wouldn't hafta worry about any of the damn red tape we gotta cut through. So...how 'bout it? Unless of course you've got other prospects..." "And what makes you so sure your fed position's secured when you get back? They've prob'ly replaced you by now." "Nice thing about looking for something nobody wants to find is that the job ain't gonna be likely taken when you get back." "What is it you look for?" "He looks for the truth," the boy answered for Doggett. "What the hell did you say??" Doggett glowered. "You...you look for the truth...don't you?" "Helluva lucky guess..." Doggett grumbled.
2:31 PM "Agents Fische, Reyes, and Scully," Adler was commanding, "I want all children found in this home escorted to the Portland Child Authority Facility immediately after the raid." "Sir, if I may say something, even if it's less than 500 children, for 3 people to take those children to the state capital, it's going to be extremely time-consuming." "Miss Scully, although it will be time-consuming, it is quite a necessity, and all other resources will be utilized." "So we're basically just going to be bus drivers?? Greeeeeeeat." Reyes groaned. "I'm well aware that you and Agent Scully have a personal interest invested into this matter, and your judgment is undoubtedly impaired." "And the ax to grind against us for turning you in is a biased decision?" Reyes fired back at him. "There are other alternatives where, Agent Reyes?" Adler sneered. "I believe the State FBI in Portland has vans we can utilize. I've already arranged it with them. And quite frankly, Agent Reyes, you and Agent Scully have proven yourselves liabilities to this effort. Agent Scully, your outburst in the airport alone is grounds enough to send you packing, and I don't believe I need to reiterate Agent Reyes' apparent disregard for...everything." "Agent Adler! That is ALL! I don't care who the f*ck is listening, or who's watching. I will NOT allow you to talk to my agents in such a manner. Pull shit like that again, and your ass is mine." "I assure you, Assistant Director, Kersh will know about this. I believe threatening a federal agent is a felony." Fische piped up. "You got beat up a lot in school, didn't you, kid?" Skinner said. Valdemort Elsinore, Inc. "There has to be more than this to the company," Starkweather prodded. "Where's the warehouse? I think if my client wants to make a wise investment, he'll want to see how the merchandise is handled." "Oh...you can't..." he hemmed and hawed, "I mean...uh...the key...I don't have it." "A gun will easily open a lock, don't you think?" Starkweather sneered, brandishing her berretta. "SEC---" he started to yell, but didn't, because she cocked her gun. He gulped. "You...know...how to use that thing...don't you?" "And I don't think we'll have to worry about security for a while. It pays to have computer geeks for friends." "What the hell?" "Some associates of mine have mangled reception in your security cameras. You can scream all you want. They won't hear you. And I don't think that guy who was eating a box of donuts and watching hockey is gonna come running around the corner very soon." "Oh. Hell." "I wasn't lying when I said I was part of a global conspiracy. They have their spies EVERYWHERE. Do you HEAR ME? EVERY. WHERE. I swear to GOD, tell anyone about what happened here, and they will hunt you down like a DOG. Understood?" "I think somebody watches Alias just a leeeeeeeeetle too much." "Oh puhleeeze...you WATCH that crap? What the hell is WRONG with you people! Is bad must-see-tv a company policy?" "WHAT'S WRONG WITH ALIAS?" With one swift roundhouse kick, she managed to take him by surprise into a stranglehold. "Jennifer Garner just makes it look too darn easy," she sneered, then yanked her hold tighter around his neck. "Now, get some taste in television, tell me where the storage facilities are, and you MAY have your kneecaps left after I leave. Tell me what you know, and you may even have your freedom when this investigation is over." "The offi--" he started to squeak, and then cleared his throat, "offices...are th-th-th-this way. Is the stranglehold absolutely necessary?" She let go. "I've still got a loaded weapon." "Lady...you don't NEED a loaded weapon." "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, aiming at his right kneecap. "So...what's your business here?" "Wouldn't wantchya to pee all over those expensive Armani pants now. The warehouse please?" "Right this way." Then under his breath, he dared to mutter,
"Bitch." Denver, Colorado "Yessss," Mr. Vaughn said, eyeing her warily. "Quite an impressive portfolio you've got here. Seems V.E.I.'s taken out quite a few small companies." He was practically bursting at the seems. "Yeah, well," Mr. Vaughn gloated, "we target small locally-owned companies, sail in, and blow'em right outta the water. They never knew what was coming." "So you thought that your latest merger was a small business?" "Yes. The online company was a ma-and-pop store. Our people reviewed their portfolio, decided they were a prime company for our ventures and made a bid." "Did you actually investigate the company yourself?" "I knew what they sold. I knew their assetts. I knew their liabilities. That's all we need to know." "So you had no idea which organizations this company was affiliated with?" "Like I said, lady. Not relevant to make a deal. I don't care if that online company had the grand dragon from the KKK as head of company." "What if they were terrorists?" "No way. John Michelle doesn't sound like a towel-head to me." She slammed her foot on the gas pedal. "WHAT THE F*CK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING B*TCH?!?! IT'S A GOD-DAMNE'D BROKEN DRAWBRIDGE!!!" She rammed straight through the WORKZONE blockade. "SAY THAT IN COURT!!!" She screamed They were headed past the second stoplight, and Starkweather wasn't slowing down. "I've got a terrible driving record." "SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!!!!!!" They were five feet from the tollbooth. "ARE YOU POSTAL!?!? STOP!!! GODDAMMIT STOP!!!!!" "Yes. I'm Postal. Just in the mood for a little game of chicken." Two feet from the edge. "Gonna testify?" Half a foot from the edge. Ashen-faced, he nodded. The breaks screeched. She put the car in reverse, and headed back toward the
main road. "Turn down this road," Vaughn said. "Now turn down that one." "There's no road." "Yes there is. It's just not paved." "And that seems...honest...to you?" "I just figured they didn't want any competitors snooping around." They had driven into what appeared to be a heavily wooded area with a path just big enough for a sizable truck to make its way through. It was a good fifteen minutes before she saw smokestacks looming over the trees. She dug into her pocket, drove along slowly, got out her camera and started snapping pictures. She wanted to make sure they knew the SWAT team would know exactly where to go. She FINALLY arrived at the warehouse. She aimed her berretta at Mr. Vaughn, then slammed his head into the passenger side window, unbelted him, and put him in the driver's seat. "You've been a lot of help. I am not jealous of your headache when you wake up." The tricky part was that there were no obvious entrances. <<Shit. The doors have to be hermetically sealed.>> She got out her cell phone, and tried Byers' number. No signal. "Shit. And me without my duct tape," Starkweather muttered. She walked around the building, which was at least a half-a-mile distance. "There's got to be a way around here SOMEPLACE." She saw a sign above the back door with Greek lettering. Entrare il ye tutta il che cerca la conoscenza "Those aren't Greek words. It's Italian....conoscenza...knowledge" She walked the perimeter of the building again. "Goddammit!!” She muttered, “Fucking piece of cock-sucking shit from hell!!" She shrieked, disregarding anyone that may be within hearing distance, "Buildings HAVE to have doors. I KNOW there's got to be a way in here." And there was the cranking of metal, and a door--almost like the one on a garage--rolled open. "Halle-fucking-lujah!" She cried, and ran in, camera ready. En Route to Oregon State Child Authority in Salem, OR The day had been absolutely crazy. A two-hour drive to Salem, Oregon seemed like an eternity. Thankfully, a couple of the employees of the home agreed to escort them for extra help. "No. That is NOT a neutron-transmitter!" Scully cried as she snatched her cell phone from a dirty dark-haired little girl. "I like Miss Monica better'n you," the little girl pouted. "So what's goin' on with Ron and Hermione?" the little girl asked Monica as soon as she appeared. "You'll find out when you're older," Monica sighed. "My brovver Jermy is older'n he don't know." "Well...that's because he's a muggle." "Will there be clowns at the new place?" another little boy asked. "I don't know, sweetie." Scully answered her. "I hope not. I'm 'fraid of clowns." "So am I." "I didn't know grown-ups were 'fraid of clowns." the little boy whispered in awe. "Grown-ups are afraid of a lot of things." Scully answered him. Reyes gave her a reprimanding glare. "Come on, Miss Dana, let's go and ask Mr. Fische how much longer the ride's gonna be," she tore a little five year-old away from her hip and put her on the seat where she was sitting. "Yeah! Ask Mr. Fishy if we're they're yet!" One of the tykes crowed. "You don't know, but Mulder was great with kids," Scully said sadly. "I know...I saw him with William. But Dana, he wouldn't have been here with you anyway since he's out of the FBI." "True. At the risk of making anyone within earshot gag, I just miss him." "Come on, Dana," she said with a small smile, "I know it's hard, but we gotta get through today. Tomorrow will come easier." Her cell phone lit-up and beeped at her for attention. "Scully," she answered automatically. Then the color suddenly drained from her skin. "I see sir. When? Does Agent Starkweather know? Yes, she’s right here. Do you want…ok. I'll tell her. Any casualties? I'll be there to do the autopsies as soon as we're finished here." Reyes nodded proddingly at her "The...um...home was destroyed. Explosives were apparently set off. Skinner's conducting the investigation as we speak." "They had to know that the home would be cleared," Reyes said. "That's what Skinner thought, too." "Somebody had to tell whoever did that we'd be clearing the place out." "Somebody was protecting information," Reyes said quietly, <or trying to shut me up> she added silently. "But who?" Scully wondered allowed. "We'll find out," Reyes declared. <Even if it costs me
everything>
She went to the Grocery store she saw on her way into town to get her film developed.
She stopped in her tracks at the sight of one of the customers. The color drained from her face.
There, at the express check-out, a familiar six-foot-tall dark-haired figure was waiting in line.
<<That’s fucking impossible.>> She thought, filled with an odd, uncomfortable mixture of relief, resentment, hope and anger.
“Mulder?!” She sputtered.
He turned, and then immediately bolted.
She raced after him, and caught up with him in the Employees Only area, looking for a place to hide.
“Hey! You can’t come in here! Can you fucking read?! It’s employees only!” Said a man wearing a dirty apron with a box in his hand.
“We’re illiterate,” Mulder mumbled. Starkweather just aimed her pistol and shot the box he was carrying.
“You gonna pay for that?” The man demanded. Starkweather aimed her pistol at him.
“On the house,” the man said ten octaves higher.
“Hey, Spooky,” she whispered. And then punched him with all the force she could muster in his gut.
“Hiya Hurricane,” Mulder rasped.
“Do you know what I was going to do when I got back home?” She said, kicking him in the shins like a little kid.
“Have no idea,” he mumbled.
“I was going to make YOUR final arrangements. Damn you Mulder! We need you back home!” She raised her knee to kick him in the balls now. Mulder doubled over again. “Scully and Skinner bug the Gunmen every damn night about any John Does fitting your description. They’ve got a task force right now to look for Doggett. The twerp they put in charge thinks YOU killed him and fled the scene to resist arrest. So forgive me if I haven’t told you I missed you yet, because that was a REALLY fucking shitty thing to do.”
“It wasn’t as if I had a choice to leave.”
“Are you saying Lux put you up to this?”
“No…look…Starkweather…if they see you here, you’re life is threatened because you know I’m alive. No one can know.”
“So what do I tell everybody when I go back home?”
“Tell them nothing. What are you doing here?”
“Skinner sent me out here to sniff around. I think Carlos had a lead he needed following up.”
“Find anything?”
“Oh, nothing, just a big hornet’s nest. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Red-herring fishing. I took a little detour.”
“How long is this going to take you?
He closed his eyes and swallowed the next words thick with emotion, “I can’t be found.”
“So you want me to look my best friends in the eye and send them on wild goose chases looking for you and LIE straight to their faces?”
“I want you to keep them safe. If the evidence is stacked against the idea that I’m alive, they’re safe. Please…just do this one thing for me…”
“If I do, St. Fox, I better not see you again because if you show up in D.C., Big Brother, I’ll blow your brains out. Not like you’d miss them anyway.”
“Save your bullets for blowing your psycho boyfriend away. You won’t be using them on me.”
She stared at him in angry confusion and he just avoided eye contact, stuffing his hands in his pockets, not quite knowing how to explain himself.
“I’m looking for Doggett,” he said finally.
“I was kidding about the twerp thinking you killed him…ok…I wasn’t…but…dammit Mulder…at the risk of sounding like something out of a cheesy movie…hiding isn’t the answer…”
“I’m working on getting him back. I owe him at least that much.”
“I know…” she said quietly, “why else would you be in the middle of nowhere? You were probably following the same tip Lux got.”
“Lux gave you the tip from an informant?”
“Yeah…first thing this morning…”
“If you can find out who it was, we may be on to something. Just please…God…Starkweather…be careful.”
“Oh, you can count on it. I don’t wanna miss the chance of killing you.”
“Let me rush home right now,” he said dryly.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Things to do, places to be, friends to lie to, excuses to make.”
“Scully and Boo?”
“You sure as hell didn’t worry about them when you left.”
“How are you doing?”
“Don’t abandon me when I need you most and then pretend to care about how I’m feeling,” she hissed coldly.
“Look…this is the best way I can help you right now.”
“Aren’t you at all interested in what I’m doing here?”
“Find anything good?”
She handed him a disk. “These are shipment invoices from one bogus P.O. Box here in town. I’ve traced it to a corporation that goes files for NASDAQ as Morningstar Medical Groups, Inc. All leading to one bogus P.O. Box.”
“And that’s what lead you here? Who gave you the shipment invoices?”
“The gunmen. Who gave you the invoices?”
“I didn’t get invoices. I got a map, followed it, and found out what I could about Redcrest Pharmaceuticals…are they affiliated with Morningstar?”
“Yes…and according to what information I’ve been able to gather, they’re affiliated with several other companies. Infinia Mortorchem and the Omega Group. Who gave you the map?”
“Blade Connor. If he finds out that Lux knows I’m still alive, I’m dead. You’re dead. And so are Scully, William, and everyone else. That’s why you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“So if Redcrest, Morningstar, and Infinia Mortorchem are all affiliated…”
“…all we’ve gotta do is figure out which one set up the bogus P.O. Box, and where all the shipments are going.”
“And part the sea and change water into wine,” Starkweather grumbled.
“So if this is a bogus P.O. Box, then you think this is all a front for something?”
“Is Skinner bald? Look, we’ve seen this before. Drug trafficking outfits operated by convicted felons from the inside, operate and distribute illegal drugs to fund places like those concentration camps that Scully was almost taken to last year. Don’t you ever pay attention to cheesy action flicks?”
“What the hell are you getting at?”
“All we gotta do is find out what operations the profits from these drug-sales are supporting.”
“And that has WHAT to do with this case?”
“Maybe Doggett is there. Maybe all these profits are used to support facilities to keep captives…”
“Mulder, what if Doggett is no longer on this earth?”
“Then…I guess I’ll hafta update him on the super bowl when he gets back.”
Meanwhile: Sharon Kuhn found Bell's old supervisor an odd mix of irritating and likable. "So. Let me take this straight," he was saying, "you got beamed up?" "Well...that's one way to put it." "And now you're sick." "Not...anymore." "Que?" "A woman accosted me...she touched me...ever since then...I haven't been sick anymore." "Sharon?!?" Bellamy gawked, beaming ear-to-ear. Sharon just nodded. "Wait while I get my violin." Manny groused. "Sorry..." Sharon half-apologized, "anything else?" "Ever think flying the unfriendly skies might have...connection to your ills?" "I've considered it. Why are you asking me these questions?" "To do what everyone does in this job. Get to the truth." "And what do you plan on doing with this info? Shoving E.T. up against the wall and getting some cops to slam the book at him...her...it...?" Manny shook his head and continued. "The truth ain't out there, Senora Kuhn, the truth just is. It's not a way for justice or for being smart. That's what we make it into. If we find the answers, then we have the answers and nothing more than that. I dun' know about you, Senora, but having the answers...just knowing...is all I need." "You must have had the culture shock of your life coming here." "What do you want me to do with the info I find?" "I want you to help." "Last time I helped, my friends got trapped on a deserted island in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico." "Sounds better than here," Sharon mused. "I'll see what I can do. The ones I trapped on a deserted island are Agentes Federales." Bellamy shifted in her seat, hoping she could find an excuse to leave before the Agentes Federales arrived. "You know I look for the truth," Doggett was saying--almost shouting now, "what the hell else do you know about me? And what the hell makes me so Goddamn interestin'?" "You better believe you won't be seeing tomorrow if you come a STEP closer, buddy," Joe Shepherd threatened. "I don't think you wanna threaten me, sir," the boy answered coolly, "I have been born to fight." "Fight who?" The boy stretched out his arms, "The people who built this. The people who took you, and countless others. The people who made me. The people who put you in that division at th FBI. The people who's entire mission in life at this moment is to take your partner." "Is that a threat?" "Why would I threaten you?" "You seem to know a lot about me. Why's that?" "Just call me your guardian angel." "Can you offer proof that they're after my partner?" "Can you offer me proof of anything? Look...I'm not hear trying to go around in philosophical circles with you. I'm here to help." "Yeah, well, you're just gonna hafta wait for your wings, kid, because I tend to get a bit wary when somethin's too good to be true." "I can get you out of here. I want to help your partner." "Why?" "Can't a person just be altruistic?" "No. And you're stalling." The boy sighed relentingly and closed his eyes, not wanting to admit what he had to say, "because you and your partner can be of most use." "So this whole rescue mission is quid pro quo then? Is that it?" "No..." the boy answered with wry grin, "just think of it as a mandatory favor." "Can I back out if the price is to high?" "It's your prison, Agent Doggett." "What's the deal?" "I want Alex Krycek's head on a platter." "You're too late, kid, Krycek is dead." "And you're mistaken. He's very much alive. With both arms. Courtesy of one of the Eden Sisters. I believe you know her as Alpha or maybe as Lily Stratford. At any rate, he is my father, and he cannot be alive.” Starkweather, precariously perched on a 4-by-4 crossbeam prayed that the two workmen weren't going to investigate into the fallen piece of fiberglass. Pleasedontlookuppleasedontlookuppleasedontlookup she muttered She shimmied herself across the beam until she could land easily on something that broke her fall. In this case, crates that were behind some filing cabinets. The workmen whipped in the direction of the loud thud. "Somebody there?" Starkweather waited face down on the crate. "How do you get behind these cabinets?" One of the men asked "Are you a cat, 'cause I sure as f*ck ain't." "We could just shove those crates away. No way in hell anyone can get through 'em without us kickin' their asses." As noiselessly as she could, Starkweather managed to get off the crate and crouched behind the filing cabinets. They were loud and stupid, so it wasn't hard to tell where they were. She rose to her feet and with a giant shove, pushed the filing cabinets down. It knocked one of them out. "Security, we got a situation on our hands." With one swift kick to the nuts and a swing at the back of his neck, the other workman was out cold. "Shit! The fucking cavalry's coming. Bachelor number three BETTER have not woken up, because I left the car running," she mumbled, thoughts whirling with possibilities of escape --- "Oh, crap," she said when she made it to the clearing where she left her car. He HAD driven off in the rental car. "Son of a bitch.”
She bolted for the woods, hoping that would provide cover. At a running pace, she was stooped over at an attempt to avoid being seen. She heard a buzzing over-head with USAF printed on its side in white letters. Then she heard someone whistling. And then saw a white flag come out of one of the trees. And then another white flag. And another. <<Did I land on the wicked witch of the east?>> When the helicopter seemed to disappear, from where the three white flags had appeared, three men came out from hiding. One tall black man, another one who looked even lankier and more sickly than Langly, and another who looked like Danny DiVito's stunt double. "What is this?!?!?!" Starkweather shrieked, "Fucking hide and seek." "Tag," the lanky one said emotionlessly, "you're it." "We were sent to protect you." The short, fat one said. "Who are you?" "Technological Interloping Team. A-K-A TITS." "You've GOT to be kidding." "Lady, why would we kid about having a dumb-ass name like that?" The short-and-fat one said. "Let me introduce myself," the black man said, offering his hand. "I am C-I-A Agent Martin King, and these are my associates, Eugene Lapinski and Elvis Presley." "We were sent by our outfit to protect you." "Not that you're a damsel in distress of course..." the black man said meekly. "Don't fucking piss her off, Euge, Carlos says she's volatile." the lanky one droned. "Oooooo...feisty. I like that," he might as well have been licking his lips. "CARLOS!?!?" "Yup. Deeeeeeeefinately feisty." "You're not armed, right?" The lanky one asked. A tank behind a platoon of soldiers was headed straight for them. "The cavalry," all four of them said in unison. "So you're here to rescue me?" Starkweather asked. The three men's Adam's apples were bobbing up and down, all standing stock-still. "Good job," she groaned. The soldiers were marching orderly, like robots. "Have you seen the new Star Wars yet? This reminds me of that battle scene..." Eugene began. "Unless you've got protective shields, buck-o, I don't wanna hear it," Starkweather muttered. They were less than a mile away now. The ground was quaking with their force. "Aaaaaaaaaw, c'mon, it was a good movie!" "Thank you, Roger Ebert." Starkweather groaned. "Anyone got any plans? Agent King asked, all three of them retreating back to the warehouse. "No." Elvis and Eugene chorused. "Are you guys armed?" "YES!" All three said. "Here's plan A. Point, shoot, then run like hell." Starkweather answered. "Plan B?" Eugene asked. "Run like hell, then point and shoot." She said. The workmen were still loading up the truck when they made it back to the warehouse. "Transportation is promising," Elvis said. Eugene and Elvis both got out their weapons, and shot the two men square in the chest as they were coming out. "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!!!!!" Starkweather shrieked. "Good one, lady. Tip them off to our location," Eugene grumbled. "And," King added as he was fishing around in the corpses pockets for the keys, "yes, we can. The CIA grants us the fifth freedom," he handed Eugene the keys. "You're drivin'." Eugene tossed the keys over to Starkweather, who caught them in mid-air. "Like hell." "Oh, crap." Starkweather groaned. Effortlessly, the truck started up. "Question," Agent King said, "there's only one road outta here." "Didn't even think about that!" Elvis said. "Elvis? You think?" Eugene chided, "That's a shocker." "Shut up!" "Do!" "Not!" "Do!" "Not!" "BOYS!" Starkwaether bellowed, "I swear to God, I'll turn this fucking thing around if you don't shut the hell up!" "I think what King was trying to say," Eugene piped up, "is if there's only one road and they're using it...how the hell are we supposed to pass?" "Roads? Where we're going we don’t NEED roads." "Back to the Future sucked," Eugene grumbled. "Not!" "Does!" "You're suicidal, aren't you?" Starkweather grumbled, and plowed through the clearest spots she could find.
Starkweather drew her gun.
"Got your weapons ready, boys?" "Does Elvis have blue suede shoes?" Elvis said as all three cocked
their guns. Bullets were raining on the windshield. "We're supposed to be going away from them, Agent Starkweather," Agent King said. Starkweather barreled toward the platoon. "Just a suggestion," King said. "There's too many," Starkweather said as the tires screeched when she swerved to miss a tree, "no way will we be able to get around them. We'll just have to go through them." "Carlos said he was crazy. He forgot to mention you were psycho." Eugene said. The woodsy area was on a small peninsula. The kind of blue water you only see on post-cards were surrounding all sides. "They aren't taking any verbal orders. They seem to be almost...programmed..." Starkweather said, "I may be able just to...mow them down...and they're not being effected by bullets. These have gotta be those god-damn supah soldiahs." "Hey!" Elvis protested, "I came up with that name!" "Well, it sucks." Starkweather said, and then ducked as she pressed the gas petal. The sprays of bullets had spider-webbed the glass and swiss-cheezed the sides of the truck, missing every head but exposing the cargo the truck was carrying.. "God almighty..." Elvis whispered, "you gotta see what's in the back of this truck," "Finders keepers, kids," Starkweather said, "I don't have time to ooo and aaaah right now," she almost tipped the van over trying to miss gunfire. Some soldiers had run into the waters below. "This almost looks like..." King mumbled. Eugene picked one up, and aimed for a soldier. The soldier exploded as soon as the rock hit him. "Magnetite," they all said in unison. "What the hell is magnetite doing in this truck if it was making a delivery for the syndicate!?!" Starkweather asked. The agents had all taken as many rocks they could hold in both hands and frantically started throwing them, hitting as many soldiers as they missed. "Eugene, you take the back," Agent King was shouting. "Ready to take over?" Starkweather asked. "What?" King blurted out. "Can you drive?" "Can I what!?!?!" "The right one's the gas petal, the left one's the breaks. Just point the wheel where you want the van to go," Starkweather said as she opened the door." "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!" "Can I get some of those rocks, boys?" She was driving with her knees now, reaching behind her for some rocks. "I'm gonna need more than that." They loaded her up with an armload. She unlatched the door, and barreled out of the car, managing to keep most of the magnetite pieces. "PLAYING CHICKEN!" Starkweather said. "Crazy bitch." The three mumbled as they watch her sprint towards
the platoon. "So lemme get this straight," Doggett was saying incredulously, "you're Alex Krycek's son, and you want me to kill him? The idea that that rat-bastard can reproduce is a damn scary thought." "No, he's not my father," the boy answered coolly. "But you just sa--" "He led us to believe he was my father." "Who's us?" "My brothers. In the Eden Project, there were five girls, one didn't make it. The other four did, only one being left with the ability to reproduce. There were four boys..." "The fourth girl DID make it." "WHAT!?!" "At the moment, Delta is alive and kickin'." "How?" "Her father faked her death." "Son of a bitch," the boy swore, "so there are nine of us?"
Doggett nodded his head, "So you're..." Doggett was putting the pieces together, "but how?" "I'm lost," Joe Shepherd said. "Most of the time, Joe, so'm I," Doggett answered. "And you've lived this long? I'm impressed." "So'm I." "If you want to be found, you might let me finish," the boy glowered. "Sorry," Both Doggett and Joe grumbled. "I am piecing the puzzle of the how part of the story. Alex Krycek led us to believe he was our father. The four boys, Xi, Omicron, Phi, and Rho lived in isolation for seventeen years training in the classics, gun-slinging, archery, fencing, and all forms in hand-to-hand combat. We were made as fighting machines. All of us were genetically enhanced soldiers, but the project had some...side effects." "Side effects?" "I'm the only one not shooting blanks and have exhibited aggression and clairvoyant abilities." "So that's how you knew." "No. I knew who you were because of my family's interest in the FBI. Xi is criminally insane. Omicron has shape shifting capabilities. Phi has telekinetic abilities." "And you're Rho?" Doggett asked. Rho nodded. "I'm the black sheep of the family." "So why are you here?" "Krycek had been watching you and your division with some interest." "I don't get it though? Why me? I'm boring." "Because of your romantic interest and subsequent involvement with Echo." "How did you...oh shi---What's that got to do with anything?" Doggett glowered. "Everything." CIA Agents Lipinski and Presley were throwing magnetite as hard and as fast as they could. Meanwhile, Starkweather was bolting for the edge of the water. She knew that was the only way she'd get the tank to stop. "AREN'T WE GOING TO FALL IN!?!?" King blurted out when he saw the cliff looming ahead. "THAT'S NOT PART OF THE PLAN!" Starkweather shouted back. Then she was waving her arms, shouting, "HEY!! Star Trek Rejects!! OVER HERE!!!" Predictably, they all advanced over to the ledge Unpredictably, they didn't stop when she was dangerously close. Inches away now, she ran along the edge of the peninsula. The CIA Agents were hitting the soldiers. Making them explode left and right, but still they were advancing, and Starkweather was retreating. Closer and closer to the cliffs. "Oh, crap," she said, eyes widening as she evaluated how far the fall would be. The CIA Agents' jaws dropped as they watched her make a swan-dive down to the wild river below. "Carlos is gonna kill us," Agent King said. "Fuck Carlos. MULDER is gonna kill us," said Agent Lipinski. "Oooooooooh shit," was all Agent Presley had to say. Meanwhile, from the branch she had managed to clasp onto on her way down, she watched as the army crashed into the water below. She would have been a lot happier about the outcome if the branch she was clinging to wasn't giving way.
"GET ME UP!" She shouted from the cliff. "YOU'RE OK?" "NOT FOR LONG IF YOU DON'T GET ME OUT OF--" then she heard the snapping of wood, "HEEEEEEE-IIIIEEEEE!" Then they heard a loud splash as she hit the icy water. "Presley, get that branch over there," King ordered as he glared at Lipinski. "STARKWEATHER?!" Presley shouted. "Oh God, I don't see her. KING I DON'T F*CKING SEE HER!" "Look, there. There's a bit of a slope." "I hate slides," Elvis whined. "It'll be like in Indiana Jones," King said. "Indiana Jones never had to go down slides," Elvis protested "It'll be like Romancing the Stone!" King shouted. "Only if I can be Michael Douglass," Elvis relented. "Whatever works," King shrugged. "OVER HERE!" Lipinksi shouted breathlessly about twenty feet downstream, she pointed to a flash of cranberry red swiftly floating further and further away. "Go go gadget lifejacket," Elvis mumbled as he slid down the mud, and then screamed, "IT'S COOOOLD! Itscolditscolditscolditscolditscold." He inched along the rocky, almost non-existent banks for what seemed like miles, going as fast as he could without slipping. First his right foot. Then his right arm. Then the rest followed as soon as he was sure he wasn't going to trip and fall. Then he heard splashing not far from him downstream. "STARKWEATHER!?" He called out, "Are you OK?" He was answered by coughing. "Let's evaluate the situation here...*cough* No." He inched as fast as he could to where he heard her voice. He reached out his hand, "and they say the gentleman is a dying breed," Starkweather smirked. "Promise not to choke me if you grab hold of my neck?" "No." "Crap," then he shouted up, "GUUUUYS!!! HELP!!!" "PRESLEY!?" "I GOT HER!!" "GOT ANYTHING TO USE FOR A ROPE!?" "DUCT TAPE." "DUCT TAPE?!" Starkweather guffawed. "Gotta MacGyver us outta this situation somehow, right?" "I'm gonna die," Starkweather predicted. "USE YOUR SHIRTS AND MAKE THEM INTO ROPES!" Starkweather shouted. "She just wants to see us nekkid," Eugene smirked. "No. Wait, let me rephrase that. HELL no. I just want to see tomorrow," Starkweather answered viciously. They took off their shirts and undershirts, using navy knots to make them strong enough to hold two people. Starkweather was strangle-holding Presley. "I...can't...breathe." Presley rasped. "Any proposals as to how we're going to get back to civilization?" Starkweather asked allowed. "We've got the SUV," King said. "You've got an SUV?" "Parked just outside the woods," Presley informed her. "How the hell do you think we got here?" Eugene said. "Can you take me to my hotel?" asked Starkwaether. "I knew it! She wants to see us nekkid!" Eugene crowed. "Eat shit and die," Starkweather grumbled. "We can definitely take you there, Agent," King said. "Just one question..." Starkweather began. They all nodded. "How did you know I was here?" "We're not at liberty to say." "Bull. Shit." "We have this weird habit we picked up called living. It's a hard one to break," Presley said. "You'll go cold turkey of that habit if you don't tell me in two seconds," Starkweather threatened. "We've been following you." "Following me?!? Since when!?!" "We were assigned to watch you when you joined the FBI. We've been following your actions since." "Who the fuck else knows I'm here?" Starkweather demanded. "There are many eyes on the Hurricane," King said. "Some are
enemies, some are protectors. All are watching what you do. All of them are
tracing your every step. You are never alone, Echo. Because of who you are and
what you are made to be and what you will come to be, you will never be
alone." Meanwhile... He could not let that happen. "Excuse me," he said to the perky blond receptionist, turning on the charm full blast, "Do you think you can help me?" He flashed what he thought was his most disarming smile. "Do you need to rent a car?" She said, her giggling ceasing only long enough to get out the sentence. "No, my dear. I just need information." "Are you a detective or something like that?" "Something like that." "What do you want to know." "Two things. If you are free later on tonight and if you can help me find my late wife's sister. She left something to my sister-in-law, and I'm trying to find her to deliver the package." "Late? Oh...I'm sorry." "I'm quite sure that she rented a car with your company after arriving from Dulles, and I was wondering if you could just tell me what kind of car she rented so I can call the hotels in the area and find her," he coaxed. "There's quite a few hotels in the area. It's going to take a while to call them all." "I'm a patient man. Her name is Jerilyn Starkweather. She's an FBI agent." "She rented a green 4-door 98 Saturn from us." "Thank you, my dear. That wasn't so hard for you, was it? Now. Are you
free tonight?"
He couldn't use the hotels, they'd ask for ID, and then someone would track him. He saw a grocery store not too far from the airport. He decided to go there for a microwavable dinner, an A.T.M. machine, and a copy machine. Meanwhile Mile High Hotel All she wanted was to get a shower, get into some clean clothes (she was still wearing the same suit she had on when she took her unexpected swim), and get a pizza and go to sleep. Well, maybe not all she wanted. But until Mulder had come through on his promise. That was the best she could do tonight. Her cell phone chirped, and she saw Scully's cell number flashing on it. <<Shit.>> "Scully, how was Oregon?" "You aren't going to believe what we've been through up here." <<Double shit.>> Not that she was up for a lengthy conversation tonight, but she owed her partners at least a few minutes, "Try me." "The home was burned to the ground." "Some kid finally acted out one of their fantasies?" "We have reason to believe it was Leo." "Based on what evidence?" "Testimony, actually," Scully answered coolly. Starkweather closed her eyes. "From who?" "Alpha." "WHAT?!?" Meanwhile, while Starkweather took an unexpected swim... "You people caused enough trouble when you were here last time. Don't think this town forgets what happened to Big Billy Miles" Sheriff Larry Kuhn warned, "with a bartender dead, hell if I don't have enough to deal with." "Bartender?" Reyes asked. They had FINALLY made their way back to Bellefleure. She was fighting the urge to close her eyes. He glared at Scully, Reyes and then Skinner, "He wasn't abducted by little green men, if that's what you're askin'" "They're gray," they chorused. "You're here to investigate the orphan home, and that's it. If you don't have any evidence, I want your paddywaggon outta my town!" "Sheriff Kuhn," Skinner began, "I respect your authority and your position, but we have a federal investigation to conduct here, and I will not allow you to get in the way." "Has the bartender been buried yet?" Scully asked "With the permafrost, we can't dig into the ground to bury the body till spring, so he's resting in the morgue." "Any way I can see the body?" "Wouldn't want to interfere with anything now." Kuhn sneered. 4:04pm "Right this way, Agent Scully," the Deputy Stan Falton said. "Forgive Sheriff Kuhn. He's had big shoes to fill ever since Sheriff Miles died. Thinks he's got somethin' to prove. He runs a tight ship, but he's cleaned up this town. And he's got a lot on his shoulders right now with his daughter's illness." "We're used to that," Scully replied. "You mean that wasn't no wives' tale?!" The deputy gawked, "I didn't think all that crazy sh*t was TRUE. I just thought it was some damn bedtime story." "As the gospel, Deputy," Scully answered. The deputy just stared in awe. She arched an eyebrow impatiently. "Oh...the body..." The Deputy said, ashen-faced. "Fair warning, Deputy, if you're squeamish, I’d leave pretty soon. I'm going to have to make an incision." "Nope. Not squeamish." "It is 4:15 PM in Bellefleure Hospital Morgue, examination room B. I am examining Mr. Philip Levits. Levits was pronounced DOA by the coroner, and estimated time of death is approximately between 3:30 and 4am. According to the identification found on the body, he was 49, and was shot in his own bar, having been wounded fatally in the head." "That's gonna leave a mark." "He's dead as a hammer. It doesn't matter,” Scully answered flatly. "There's not gonna be blood, is there?" "I thought you weren't squeamish." "I think I'll...go...see...if anything else needs to be done...anywhere..." the deputy said, and skirted nervously out the door. "Bullet has been extracted. It appears to be shot from a 45 -caliber handgun. There seems to be fingernail marks around the shoulders but no DNA testing has been done. The reason for this remains unclear. I am scraping off skin for a culture sample." "Dana," Reyes said, bursting through the doors, not batting an eye at the body half-open in front of her. "Just a sec, Mon. I'm kinda busy right now." "I don't think Mr. Adler is going anywhere, and you need to come with me to the interrogation room." "Why?" "Alpha's there. Dana..." Reyes was near tears now, "she knows who killed Levits," "She's desp--" Scully closed her eyes, "what makes you believe her." "She knows where John is," Reyes answered. Scully tossed off her surgical mask and scrubs and threw them in the closet, not even bothering to lock up on her way out. Interrogation Room 1 "Lily Stratford." "I SAID state your name, please," he repeated. "Lily. Stratford." She reiterated coldly. The sheriff loomed over her, holding his police rod like a bat at her head. "One more time. State. Your. Name." Scully saw a brunette who looked like she hadn't gotten that much sleep the night before followed closely by a young professional who looked forcibly put-together, and... "MANNY!?!!" Reyes gawked on the other side of the two-way mirror. "Senora Zorro!" Manny boomed, grinning from ear-to-ear, "Agent Reyes!" "What are you doing here?" "He's my colleague," the professional young woman answered, "I did my internship with him in Mexico during my senior year in college. He was the only person I knew who would know what to do with this kind of case." "And you are..." Reyes began, extending a hand in greeting. "Bellamy Wade. Journalist. I've been following this case since my roommate in college..." "That would be me," the tired brunette answered, "Sharon Kuhn." "Any relation to the Sheriff?" Scully asked. "Adoptive father," she answered with a weary sigh. "Ms. Wade has been following the case ever since they came for her," Manny offered, "In my country, I was a...how is it? Newsman. I told everybody about things that happened in my country. Things about UFO's. Things about abductions. I was in this country following up a story when they caught me on some bogus immigration charges, and that was when El Zorro came." Sharon bolted, wide-eyed and ashen-faced towards the window. "That's her." "Who, Sharon," Bellamy asked. "The one who saved me." "Sharon, what the hell are you doing down here!?" Sherif Kuhn boomed when he saw the three, and then to Manny, "Who the hell are you? "Manuel Jose Antonio Frederico Andrea Llamas Ibarra," Manny answered immediately, "I am a reporter." Scully and Reyes just shook their heads. "You know this hack?" Sheriff Kuhn asked when he saw their reaction. "Yes," Scully, Reyes, and Skinner who had just joined them all chorused. "Senor Aguila! Hola!" Manny said, as if he saw the man every day. Skinner narrowed his eyes questioningly in Reyes' direction. <Eagle> Reyes mouthed back with a broad grin threatening to erupt into giggles. "Sheriff," Skinner began, "I have agreed to interfere with this investigation as little as possible, but I think that it may be in the best interest of everyone involved if I let my agents handle the interrogation. We have had a great deal of experience with this woman. We know exactly what we're dealing with." "Daddy, listen to them!" Sharon pleaded. "Sharon, go home!" Sheriff Kuhn answered. "Daddy, Senor Ibarra worked with Bell. They've...he's seen this lady before." "If that's so, then he knows what a threat she is, and all the more reason for you to head straight home." "Uncle Larry," Bellamy butted in, "her name is Lily Stratford. She's a former alien abductee, taken in front of her boyfriend at the age of 18. As far as we can tell, she's been on the run since last year when something known as the Eden Project was coming to a head involving five girls. She was the first, and most alien of the human hybrids..." "What the hell is all this? Bellamy, that's a wild imagination you've got there..." "It's not a fabrication." Reyes spoke up. "You're tryin' to pass off tabloid crap on CNN headlines...Senor Ibarra...take your science fiction to Steven Spielberg, I'm sure he'd love to hear your story. Right now, I've got an investigation on my hands." "No!" Sharon hissed, "I'm not going anywhere. She's the one
who saved my life. I want to know why. I have to know why I lived." "State your name, please," Skinner began.
"Lily Stratford. You may know me better as Alpha." "What are you doing here Ms. Stratford?" Scully asked. "Hiding," she looked up at them like a kid who had just been caught stealing a candy bar from the shelf. "From who?" Scully asked. "The people who want to take me," she answered "Who are they? The ones who want to take you?" Skinner asked. "Men," she said, making an intense study of her hands. "Lots of men. A woman. The rebels. Justin Leo. I'm the Five Million dollar prize." "Why do you think they want to take you?" Scully asked, nervously rubbing the nape of her neck. "They have their own motives." "What does the name Sharon Kuhn mean to you?" Skinner demanded. "Who?" "Sharon Kuhn," they both repeated, and showed her a snapshot of the girl. "She had cancer." Lily answered simply. "I cured it." "How?" "THAT'S WHY THEY WANT TO TAKE ME! TO FIND OUT!" Lily cried, and then mumbled, "I don't know how I do it either. All I know is that I do." "Why did you want to heal her?" Skinner demanded. "Because I wanted to make it right." "Make what right?" Scully asked. "Letting someone else go in my place." "What do you know about Agent John Doggett's disappearance?" Skinner said, showing her another 5 by 7 photograph. "I made them take him in my place," she whispered, sobbing. "How?" Scully scowled, trying hard not to slam the woman up against the wall. "I c...oh God..." she was quaking with sobs now, but neither Skinner or Scully felt any sympathy for the woman, "forgive...I cut the chip out of my neck. I found some duct tape, stuck it on the knife, knocked on Agent Doggett's hotel room door, and stabbed him with the knife. I chased the agents to the spot where they were calling me. I ran before their ship came." "Lily Stratford," Skinner stood, "you are under arrest for assaulting a federal agent," Alpha did nothing to protest. She put her arms out to be cuffed, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law," they led her out of the room, "you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand?" Alpha nodded, but she was starring straight at Bellamy, who had turned dangerously pale. "Felitza?" Alpha whispered.
El Dorado Motel 11:21pm It was nippy outside, but Reyes didn’t care. She would wrap up in her leather coat and stand out in the cold.
She needed a smoke…a craving that had arisen more than ever lately.
She wasn’t aware that the door was so heavy, and flinched when it slammed shut, hoping that it didn’t wake anyone.
A light came on in the room next to hers.
Fuck.
Skinner emerged from his room in a pullover sweater, holding a bottle of Whiskey in one hand and two plastic cups in the other.
“Sorry I woke you, sir,” she said, lighting up, “didn’t realize that door was so heavy.”
“I was awake,” he grumbled, “thought you could use a stiff drink,” he said, holding out the cup.
“Do you think we’ll find them?” She asked, guilt lining her question.
“I’m not the best at heart-to-hearts. I told Scully not to prepare herself for the worst once. I think maybe because I was telling myself as much as I was telling her. The next night, the worst was exactly what happened. And I think telling her that it was alright to hope might have been the wrong thing to do in the long run. Giving up is not an option…but neither is optimism.”
“There’s a difference between being pessimistic and realistic.” Reyes said, “so…realistically speaking…do you think we’ll find them?”
“There’s no such thing as realistically speaking on the x-files, Monica…and, given the track record…quite honestly, I think their chances are pretty shitty. But until we find evidence otherwise…I think the only thing we can do is hold out and investigate this as a kidnapping.”
“I don’t think Dana will have the strength to…oh God…what if…I did this…” she whispered, swallowing the contents of the cup in one gulp, “what if They did this to get through me?”
“And what if They did this to get through me? Or through Scully? Part of being the good guys is ticking off the bad guys. Our job isn’t to expose them…our job is to protect the innocent from them.”
"So..." Starkweather logged onto her laptop to order pizza, and closed her eyes in a semi prayer, "could you figure out where Doggett is from that interrogation? And who's Bellamy Wade?"
"Believe it or not, she's Manny's colleague from Mexico. Apparently Isobel told him about what was going on here, and...you know the rest...as for where Doggett is...according to Alpha, Doggett is being held in the Siberian desert in Russia in an old Communist concentration camp." "Oh my God...what gave her that idea?" "Not a what. A who, apparently. Blade Connor." "Shit." Scully...I'm online right now...I'm gonna buy the airline ticket." "Starkweather...please...wait till we check this out. It may be completely bogus." "Doggett may not have anymore TIME to wait, Scully...I can't just sit by and twiddle my thumbs while I can feasibly DO something..." "SOMETHING that could be incredibly stupid." "Being stupid is part of my charm." "I just...look...I just lost one member of my family this week. I don't wanna loose another." "Scully, this may be our one chance to get him back...I've got...I'll call you back...pizza’s here," she said, at the knock on her door. <That was fast,> Starkweather thought, and got a $10.00 note out of her purse. "Knock knock, in-law..." Blade said when she opened the door. "A little bird told me that you know where Agent Doggett is," she said. "Yes...I'm quite aware of Loverboy's whereabouts." "Then I should put you under arrest for kidnapping a federal agent," she glowered. "If I tell you, can you cut me a deal?" he said. "Only if it's a deal worth making." "It means Loverboy gets to live." "What's the deal?" "Leave the FBI." "No dice. You have the right to remain silent..." she fished around for her handcuffs. "Anything you say can and will...where the hell are those damn things!?" "Look at where the FBI has gotten you. One of your sisters is after your head on a platter. They’ve taken your boyfriend. Another is dead. Your father is dead. Your husband is dead. Your brother is dead. All because you carry that badge. And for what!? So you can be the laughing stock of your colleagues? So you can watch your nephew be eaten alive?! So you can chase freaks of nature? So that you can’t do anything?" "You've been watching me." she accused. Blade nodded. “For a long time now.” “Why?” “Orders.” "Is he alive?" Blade nodded, "It is in their best interests if he remains alive. It is in your best interest if you take an early retirement." “This badge is the only thing they’re afraid of…it’s my only chance to fight back. You’re telling me to get rid of it because your boss is afraid of my damage.” “So much like your brother,” Blade observed, clicking his tongue. “There are other options.” “NO!” Starkweather said, “No way in hell am I joining the other team. Not now.” “Who said anything about joining the other team?” “You have the right to remain silent,” Starkweather glowered, slapping the cuffs on his wrist. “Please use it. You’re under arrest for aiding and abetting a kidnapping. You have the right to an attorney. You better get a good one. “You won’t be the first of your colleagues to change sides.” “Shut up!” she commanded. “Go on, ask Agent Reyes. She’ll tell you.” “Reyes doesn’t even steal the towels from hotel rooms!” “We didn’t think she had it in her, either…but she proved herself quite useful. Now you and her are the only ones left in the x-files office. Do you really think you can fight it by yourself?” “You know, you’re really annoying. Too bad that isn’t a crime.” “I think it’s time I finally started telling the truth. It might be refreshing. And it might be enough…” “It will NEVER be enough!” “Get off your god-damn high horse, Agent Starkweather. We’re a lot a like, you and I. Like you, I once had quite the normal little life. I was a husband. I was a father. I was a salesman. I had the little house in suburban paradise with the white picket fence. I was regular Ward fucking Cleaver, courtesy of your half-sister. Then one night, we were terrorized. I had been rendered paralyzed from the waist down. Miraculously, I recovered, but I was not going to go quietly into the night. I was not going to slink away and let them threaten my family’s safety. I tried going to the law. But the legal system wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to punish the bastards for what they did. You know what those fuckers got for what they did to me? To us? PROBATION ON GOOD BEHAVIOR! I’m not the bad guy, here. I’m just someone fighting back.”
“I AM fighting back…Connor, what the hell do you think I’m doing here? Being a fucking tourist? If you let us, you can help us protect Samita…”
“You don’t know what it TAKES to protect them… Samita…Doggett…William…all of them! Not even the fucking CIA knows what it takes to protect them. I joined them so I’d know what it TAKES.”
“That was a nice speech. You should get an academy award. Want to know why I can so easily turn you down, Connor? You’re someone who does their DIRTY work. You are the people who terrorized your family. You are the people who terrorize MY family. You are the ones who killed my husband. You are the ones who took my partner. Don’t you get it, Connor? You’re just a pawn. Just a pawn to get what they want. To fight their fight. You’re not making it better, not getting justice. Just adding salt to the wound.”
“This won’t be the last time someone will want you to switch sides, Starkweather. You’d be very surprised what the last thing you’d ever do is.”
Blade Connor whipped around and put the handcuffs around his wrists to her throat.
“Unlock them.” He yanked on her throat, “Unlock them and let me go.”
And she did. The Next Day Back in DC Starkweather was ready to buy a plane ticket to Russia before Blade Connor paid her a visit, but she decided against it.
Blade Connor was a manipulative liar, and nothing he said was the truth.
No way was Reyes in the same organization that her adoptive father and biological father were involved in.
No frickin’ way.
But Connor did convince Starkweather of one thing.
That she couldn’t fight it anymore.
When Starkweather started in the x-files division a little over a year ago, it never was an option that she’d still be working down in the basement. A year ago, she was still married. A year ago, she was going to be at Quantico.
Damn…was it only a year ago?
A year ago, she never knew monsters existed outside of B-movies and nightmares.
A year ago, she barely knew the people she would count as family.
A year ago, she didn’t have a half-brother.
A year ago, Ben Starkweather was still alive.
A year ago, Jeremy Bailey was still alive.
“I’m going home,” Reyes said, as she rose to leave.
“See you tomorrow,” Starkweather grumbled, not even looking up from her computer.
“Jerilyn,” Reyes said, big raccooned circles under her own eyes from lack of sleep, “you are not helping Doggett or Mulder by sitting up in this office all night,” she shut off the surge protector.
“I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to.” Starkweather answered, rebooting her computer.
“That slime ball Fische is in charge of the task force. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“A lot is hard to believe,” she answered, sadly glancing at Doggett’s file. A year ago, he wasn’t in the filing cabinets, either.
“The only way we’re going to get through this whole ordeal is to keep the lines of communication open.”
“Here,” Starkweather said, handing her an envelope with her name printed on it. She had two more laid to the side with Skinner’s and Scully’s, “a line of communication.”
“You’re quitting?” Reyes sputtered, “Jerilyn…you can’t…not now…I know this is rough…but…”
“Watch me. Look Agent Monica Sunshine, I know this is a lousy thing to do, but I just can’t stay here. Not any more. I can’t sit by and watch everyone I’ve ever cared about be killed off just because I’m me. Because of who my father was. Because of who my brother is…because of where I come from. Because of what I’m made of.”
“Is? Jerilyn…maybe if you got some counseling…”
“Counseling?! Oh, I can see it all now. Oh yes, Doctor. I’m depressed as hell because my best friend was abducted in a tractor beam right in front of me, and my half-brother was killed by a bunch of people hell-bent on taking over the planet. I promise I’m sane.” Starkweather said, shot her the bird, and stormed out.
Starkweather didn’t even watch where she was walking. She just walked. She wanted to get away from the FBI building. Away from D.C.
Finally, she stopped on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
And just sat there, as stone-faced as Abraham Lincoln above her, watching the pigeons.
That’s where Scully found her, a half an hour later.
“Mulder used to come here,” she said sadly.
“I was only his sibling for six months, and already I’m under his shadow. I liked being an only child better.”
“He liked to come here,” Scully continued, ignoring her, “because there was proof. That at least freedom existed. That at least some causes were worth fighting for. That at least somebody won the Good Fight. He liked it here because he was reminded of why he fought so hard…why he couldn’t give up his quest…because if he did, then all of the people who fought so hard for what this country stands for wouldn’t have fought in vain,” and then she added with a rueful smile, “That, and it had the most seats, the best shade, least amount of tourists, and the pigeons were always entertaining.”
“You sound like you think he’s dead…”
“I can’t afford to believe he’s not dead,” she whimpered, “It hurts too much to believe he’s alive.”
“What would you say to him if he walked up to you right now?”
“What would you say to Doggett?”
“Not fair!” Starkweather protested like a little kid, “I asked first.”
Scully sighed consentingly. “I’d like to think that I’d say the things that mattered. But honestly, I’d probably kick his ass for ditching me again like that.”
“Then I did the right thing. Good.”
“Turning in your resignation letter?
“Um….yeah…”
“Jerilyn, what aren’t you telling me?” Scully demanded.
She just bit her lower lip, hung her head, rose from her stoop and started to walk away, never making eye contact with Scully.
“This is the resignation letter you handed in,” Scully said. And then ripped it up and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Skinner’s done the same thing. So has Reyes. He went to tell you, and when he couldn’t’ find you, he had a meeting to go to, and sent me out to find you. As senior agent of this division, I find that completely unacceptable. I’m not letting you out of here that easily. I’m not letting you give up.”
“I can’t, Scully. I can’t do this anymore,” she said pathetically. “A lot of things would have been better if I never set foot in that basement office. I don’t think I hafta bring out the grocery list of things that wouldn’t have happened if I never came to D.C.”
“Yeah…” Scully admitted, “but a lot of things would have been worse. And now that Mulder’s gone, you and William are all I have left of him.”
“I miss them,” she said, voice quavering.
“Me too, Jerilyn.” Scully said softly. “Me too.”
“What is your theory about what happened to Doggett?”
“That another species took him.”
“So do you think he’ll be a believer now?”
“Do you believe yet?”
“I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Some things never change, Jerilyn. Some things never should. Go to the firing range, shoot a few rounds off. It’ll make you feel better.” At the firing range… “JERILYN!” Reyes had to shout over the sprays of bullets being fired off. She got out her .35 auto and shot the targets.
“YOU DON’T HAVE THE MEN IN WHITE COATS WAITING IN THE HALLS, DO YOU?”
“JERILYN, I’M NOT GOING TO HAVE YOU PUT AWAY…I JUST THINK YOU’RE A LITTLE OFF LATELY.”
Starkweather shot a spray of bullets at the target, hit several in the target’s head. “OFF?!” And then once the sprays had come to a temporary stop, she presented the target with ten bullets aimed at the head. “I was picturing you,” she snapped.
“I can understand being depressed right now. These are difficult times for everyone.
She brought back another target. This one with the human-shape full of bullet holes shaped like a smiley-face, crumpled it up, threw it at her like a bully throwing the ball hard at the school nerd, and stormed out.
“So much for being chummy,” Reyes mumbled.
“I still don’t get it…” Doggett muttered, struggling just to keep digging. Today made a week without food or water. “How the hell are we…”
“Just keep digging…” Rho said.
And then Doggett hit it.
It was almost as though it was…
“Regenerating…” Doggett muttered.
“DUCK!” Joe yelled, because just then, the spaceship had grown to its full size, had knicked him in the back, and was headed for the walls around the perimeter of the camp.
The soldiers fired their weapons in sprays of bullets.
Joe fell to the ground instantly when one struck him in the back.
The walls were fifty feet away now.
Doggett glanced back, but Rho called him out of his reverie.
“Doggett!” Rho yelled, “RUN!!”
Thirty feet.
“Was this the plan?!” Doggett yelled back.
“Not really!” Rho answered.
“Good, coz I think we need another plan!”
Ten feet.
Then he knew nothing more. 10:13AM Savannah, GA “You didn’t have to come,” Reyes said to Skinner as they stepped off the plane at Savannah International Airport.
“I am responsible for what happens to my agents. This is part of the job,” Skinner answered curtly.
“I hope they’re not home,” Reyes said as they got their luggage.
They rented a modest Honda Civic and found the Doggett residence through directions Reyes printed out beforehand on Map quest.
The Doggetts lived in a beautiful antebellum home like the ones you see in the old civil war movies. Reyes’ doe-eyes grew wide as the car approached the mansion.
They rang the bell. Reyes half-expected one of the characters from Gone with the Wind to answer the door.
Instead a wire-thin matron with their partner’s steel-blue eyes greeted them.
“I don’t want any today, thank you.”
“We’re with the FBI,” Skinner said immediately, “Is Mrs. Eleanor Doggett at home?”
“I’m she,” she said, face suddenly turning red, “I SWEAR if you’re here for Stevie there’s gonna be HELL to pa..”
“No,” Reyes said, gulping down tears, “We’re not here about that.”
“Mama, what is it?” Said a woman coming down the stairs.
“Agent Reyes?” Melanie gawked when she saw who was standing at the door, “Mama, this is that FBI agent from New York who was helping John with Luke…”
“Agent Reyes, nice to see ya again,” she said, “and your friend is…”
“Assistant Director Skinner, Mrs. Davis,” Reyes answered. “Skinner, this is Melanie Doggett Davis, John’s older sister.”
Just then, a tall man in his fifties with Doggett’s chiseled features came striding up the driveway.
“What the hell…” he began.
“Steven,” Mrs. Doggett barked, “You’re gonna have gnats for supper if you don’t shut your mouth. Now git in here and let these people in.”
The man consented and pushed his way past the two visitors.
“Mrs. Doggett, Melanie” Reyes began, voice quavering, “Um…your son was investigating an adoption agency we suspected of criminal activity, and…uh…”
“Oh God…” Mrs. Doggett said, eyes misting.
“We’re doing everything we can…” Reyes managed to finish.
“He hasn’t returned from that investigation yet, Ma’am.” Skinner finished. “We’re using every resource to find him.”
“You’re here, aint’chya?” Steve snarled.
Skinner only glared in response.
“If y’all are here,” Steve continued, “then y’all cain’t be outchyere. Y’all are just sittin’ all purty and comfy in yer plush office doin’ yer secretaries on the copiers while my little brother is God knows where…and you Yankees expected me to believe yer doing all ya can!?” He pointed at Skinner. “You’re his superior, raht?”
“Steve?” Melanie began to plead, and then exploded, “SHUT UP!”
“There aren’t any leads to follow.” Reyes said calmly, “We came here because we felt this isn’t something to say over the telephone or in a letter.”
“I ain’t gonna shut up, Mel! I wanna know why my tax money’s payin’ for their Savannah vacation. Don’t miss River Street while you’re here,” he added caustically.
“Mr. Doggett…” Reyes threatened, “We could always arrest you for harassment. Then you’d find out exactly how your tax dollars work.”
“Temme’is, assistant die-WRECK-tore,” he said, ignoring Reyes, “if yer doin’ yer job, what inaheyell are ya here for?”
“STEVE!” Melanie and Mrs. Doggett both chorused.
“And if his only shot is the two o’ y’all…a hooker who don’t know when to shut up an’ a middle-aged has-been... well…then…I should be plannin’ his fun’ral, shouldn’t I?”
“Mr. Doggett!” Skinner barked, “Either go, or leave in handcuffs.”
“If my brother winds up dead, I’m suin’,” he threatened.
With that, Steve stormed out.
“I apologize for my son,” Mrs. Doggett said, “He’s an idiot. Gets it from his daddy’s side of the family.”
“So he’s close to his brother?” Skinner said.
“Oh, hell no,” Melanie said, “Steve hates John’s guts. He just likes pickin’ fights. Specially if he thinks he can get somethin’ out of it.”
“Most southerners know better.” Mrs. Doggett said. “To make amends for my son, and to save the reputation of Southern hospitality, I have lunch all ready, and it just so happens we’ve got too much for just my daughter and me. Would you two like to join us?”
“So, Agent Reyes,” Mrs. Doggett began innocently, as she began to place massive serving trays of coldcuts on the table with a salad bowl full of chips and poured tea from a pitcher marked SWEET into two glasses filled with ice, “you’re John’s partner at the FBI now? But I thought that blond thing was…what was her name?”
“Yes, Starkweather is still his partner.” Skinner offered as he helped himself to some ham.
“Isn’t that the name of a serial killer?” Mrs. Doggett asked without batting an eye.
“Moth-er!” Melanie guffawed as she got out three kinds of bread.
“With these gray hairs, you get a senior citizen’s discount and the right to forfeit manners,” she said primly. “I daresay it doesn’t compensate for arthritis, but I guess it helps the young’uns feel not-so-guilty for puttin’ their grannies away in nursin’ homes. Listen to me ramblin’ on! Anyway…as you were saying, Agent Reyes…”
“John asked me to join him in the FBI after I helped him with the disappearance of the founder of the division two years ago now.”
“And Mr. Skinner, you are…”
“Their supervisor.” Skinner answered.
“And y’all came all this way to bring us bad news?” Melanie said.
“Quite a policy,” Mrs. Doggett agreed.
They ate lunch and bid their goodbyes. Skinner had to fly back to Washington for a meeting, but Reyes lingered behind.
“I heard about your husband’s case,” Reyes began awkwardly, “the reason I came down here was to let you know we’re not going to let you lose a brother in the same year.”
Melanie’s eyes glistened. “I know,” she said. “There’s something more to it, isn’t there?”
“A colleague of mine…Agent Starkweather…is struggling with this. To the point where she turned in her resignation letter, but A.D. Skinner tore it up.”
“Finally!” Melanie crowed, “Someone in the government who knows what they’re doing! No offense, of course…”
“She’s officially still in the X-Files office, and still working on the case, but I don’t think her heart’s in it.”
“You can’t long-arm someone into not givin’ up. That’s a decision they have to make on their own. What makes you think her heart’s not in it?”
“We can all tell she hasn’t been sleeping. She talks in this voice that doesn’t even sound like hers…almost like she’s an eggshell of her former self. Besides…wouldn’t you be looking for a new job if your partner, half-brother, husband, and father were all killed because of it?”
“Do you think it has anything to do with what might happen if she found my brother?”
“What do you mean?”
“John always said he never tried to be more’n friends with her ‘cause her career meant more to her than anything else. John told me once that ambition may have destroyed her marriage. Leopards don’t change their spots overnight, Agent Reyes. I know when Agent Starkweather paid a visit here, I saw a woman who had been through the ringer emotionally when she came to see me, and I know this must hurt all of you. You’ve just gotta steer her in the right direction.”
“If I do that,” Reyes began, shaking her head, “I’m afraid one of two things will happen. Either she won’t speak to me again, or I’ll be sacrificing her to the wolves.”
Melanie shrugged and put a comforting hand on Reyes’ shoulders. “Southern wisdom only goes so far. I can’t tell you the right decision here. The only person in that basement office I know well enough to have an opinion on is my little brother. He’s stubborn as a damn mule and I know when I wanted to give up on finding my husband’s killer, he was madder’n a hornet during an earthquake. I think he’d have the same reaction if Agent Starkweather gave up. If you’ll excuse me, Agent Reyes, I really hate to kick you out, but I’ve got an appointment. Let me drive you to the rental-car center.”
When they arrived at the car center, and bade their goodbyes, Melanie had one more thing to say, “I wish we could have met under more cheerful circumstances, Monica. Just talk to your partner. She’ll do what she needs to do. Here’s my home and cell number,” she said, writing it down on a post-it note. Melanie Davis was one of those women who was perpetually prepared, “keep me updated.”
“Thank you Ms. Davis,” Reyes said.
“It’s Melanie,” she protested, “and you’re welcome, honey. Just call if you need anything.” With that, Melanie drove off.
Reyes got on the plane, praying she wouldn’t let her down. One thing was certain by the time Reyes landed in Dulles.
As much as she dreaded it, she HAD to talk to Starkweather.
But soon the urgency to get out her cell phone vanished when she ran smack into a familiar face…
Blade Connor.
“Agent Reyes,” he purred, “What a coincidence this is. Nice trip?”
“Stuff it!” Reyes spat, and kept walking.
“I had a nice long talk with your partner just a few days ago. Told her all about our…history…”
“You BASTARD!” She seethed, “That wasn’t the deal!”
But Blade had already disappeared into the crowd.
She got out her cell phone and hit Jerilyn on her speed dial.
“Jerilyn…look, I know it’s late, and I apologize, but I need to get some things off my chest, and not where people can overhear.”
“As you so astutely observed in the office the other day,” Starkweather began nastily, “I haven’t been sleeping lately, and I’ve been off-kilter…so I’m not working right now either. Meet you at Coffee Is My Friend in half an hour?”
Reyes heaved a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’d be great.” Half an hour later Coffee Is My Friend 24-hour-coffee shop Reyes got their first.
That was good, she decided as she sipped on her Chai. It gave her time to plan out what she was going to say.
Starkweather breezed in. She looked so tired. So lost.
“Jerilyn, I’m glad you came. Sorry for the hour…but…this can’t wait.”
“Reyes…look, it was way out of line what I said the other day, and…”
“I know,” she said, her serene doe-eyes meeting Starkweather’s haunted hazel ones. “Get some coffee. It’ll take a while.”
Starkweather ordered coffee, put two creams and a pack of sugar in the cup, and sat across from her.
“Jerilyn, I need to be honest with you. I’m afraid. Afraid for John. But I think…I think something has kept me for looking for him. There’s an old Indian saying I ran across once: If you hunt tigers, make sure you’re prepared to catch one. I think that’s the case…I think I’m as much afraid to loose him as I am afraid to find him.”
“Because of me?” Starkweather asked simply.
“I know that you were something more than friends, yes. And maybe in the beginning, my jealousy made me afraid. But now, now it’s a different reason entirely.”
Starkweather only arched an eyebrow. Reyes took a sip of her Chai and continued.
“Because if I find him…if we find him…” Reyes didn’t even notice the stream of tears falling steadily on her face, “he’ll know. He’ll know who I am. He’ll know what I did.”
“And who are you? What did you do?” Starkweather didn’t accuse. She just handed her the napkin bin on their table.
“I took an offer from Alex Krycek. He said if I did…small favors…for some people he knew, they would help me. He said if I delivered some packages, set up meetings, covered information up, then I could find my parents. When I met John several years ago, I switched up DNA evidence. Pfassle wasn’t important to them, but [Jeb the fired fiery guy] was. I mixed up medical files so that [Jeb] wouldn’t be discovered. I was there to make sure Luke’s killer was never found. If he comes back, he’ll find out…if he comes…”
Reyes was quaking with sobs now. Starkweather glared at her. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to forgive her, but she couldn’t. Not now.
“Why did you bring the file to Mulder?” She seethed.
“Because,” she sniffled, “it was my way of making things right with John. Instead, it was more like salting the wound.”
“So, did you just bring me here tonight for a confession?” Starkweather said, rising to her feet.
“I don’t blame you for being angry.”
“I thought Connor was lying!” She hissed.
“What?”
“Connor Saint-Claire paid me a visit in Denver. He told me you were part of them…I didn’t want to believe. I told him you were too good for that.”
“I wish I had been honest from the beginning. I shouldn’t have kept this from everybody, but I wasn’t sure how to tell everyone…I couldn’t…wait…Connor Saint-Claire?”
“Yes…turns out he was telling the truth,” she seethed.
“Funny…because Blade Connor…my contact…the one who left me that note…the one who sent Skinner and the rest to that orphanage…”
Starkweather caught on, “Blade Connor IS Connor Saint-Claire.” Reyes nodded.
“Oh God…” Starkweather sputtered, “MULDER!”
“What does he have to do with this?”
Starkweather explained everything about their meeting in Colorado.
“So if he was following you…” Reyes got her purse, “he knows Mulder’s alive,” she shot out of her seat.
“Not for long,” Starkweather said hoarsely.
Starkweather got out her cell-phone. “Lux needs to know about Mr. Saint-Claire’s multiple personalities.”
Just then, Blade Connor/Carlos Saint-Claire came breezing through the door.
“Not so fast, ladies,” he said, opening his trench coat and revealing a chest full of dynamite sticks strapped to his body.
Starkweather bent down, reaching for her barretta in her ankle holster.
Connor just tapped his finger on the lever.
“Let’s take a walk.”
Stiff and ashen-faced, they left the coffee shop.
Then they saw Justin Leo approach them.
Reyes eyed her partner warily. Moscow International Airport 5:15AM He wandered the airport for hours after all possible flights she could have gotten on had landed, and for some inexplicable reason, he found himself in the airport chapel.
And that’s where Scully found him.
“Damn you Mulder!” She had rehearsed on the flight to Moscow. She was angry. She had fully intended on marching right up to him and giving him hell until he crawled back with his tail between his legs. “Damn you for making me go through loosing you again! Mulder, you better have THE BEST GOD DAMN REASON OF YOUR LIFE for ditching us this time or don’t even bother coming back.” She was going to say.
But when she saw him alone in the pew, so haggard and worn that he was reduced to someone she could barely recognize, she just stood there for a few minutes, not quite sure of what to do or say next.
“Is this seat taken?” She asked softly and permissively.
“It’s a free country.”
“This is Russia.”
“Russia became a republic in 1991.”
“Thanks for the history lesson.”
“I lost her, Scully…”
“What?”
“Jerilyn…she was coming out on a plane…she didn’t land…”
“Mulder? What are you saying?”
“She’s gone. They took her. Just like Samantha.”
“She’s NOT Samantha.”
“Look…just tell me you came here with good news…” he broke off, just staring straight ahead.
“They found Doggett,” she said, trying to be optimistic. “One of Ben’s old Air Force buddies was on detail in one of the bunkers and found him. He’s at St. Vincent’s right now, and we can’t know for sure until blood work, x-rays, urinalysis and the cat-scan comes back, but so far, aside from malnutrition and second-degree sunburns, everything appears normal.”
“I wasn’t actually expecting the good news…”
“Tell me you’ve got good news, Mulder. Because after my last few weeks of hell, I really need it right now. Tell me you’re coming home.”
“Believe me, Scully,” he said, facing her now, “I’d rather just get my luggage, go home, watch William grow up and take care of you. But do you really expect me to drop this now?”
“I didn’t say you should drop it. I said you should come home. I want justice as much as you do. For everything they’ve done. To me. To Melissa. To you. To the man you called Dad. And William makes her just as much my family as yours. I just think that there’s nothing else you can do tonight.”
“I’ve gotta do what it takes to find her, Scully…I can’t just give up. I already lost one sister to that black-lunged sonuvabitch.”
“I’m not going to let you loose another. And if you get a solid lead, follow it up. But tonight, William misses his dad.”
“Scully…don’t do this…I need to…”
“So do I.” ---- “FUCK!” Carlos swore as he saw Alex Krycek sprint off into the crowd.
Carlos darted after him, firing a few shots in the air for show.
“Show’s over,” Krycek said as he toppled a produce stand as an obstacle.
Carlos lost no time. He found a cab with the keys still in it, and helped himself.
The tires screamed as he slammed the gas pedal.
Thanks to previous assignments in the city, Carlos knew the streets of Moscow as well as he knew the streets of D.C. and Detroit where he grew up.
He was not going to let this one get away.
Krycek sprinted, looking everywhere for a cover, pushing anything he could to slow down the man in pursuit behind him.
Krycek ran into the alleyway and skirted underneath the shelter of the fire escapes and eaves. He knew Carlos wasn’t far behind, and he knew he couldn’t get the car to fit into the narrow alleys of the ancient city.
“STOP!” Carlos yelled futilely. “Fuck, why do I even bother?” He muttered to himself as he opened the cab door and rolled out to follow his target on foot.
Krycek knew the alley was a dead-end. That short of a disappearing trick, there was no way he was going to make his escape.
And then he saw a cover to the Moscow sewer system.
“Home sweet home,” Krycek mumbled as he lifted the cover.
It would take time, but it was the only way out.
“Mulder was right. He is a rat-bastard.” Carlos muttered as he saw the cover removed, and heard the splashing of water.
He aimed his gun, and fired three shots, then descended down the manhole after him.
Rats were scurrying everywhere.
“Missed me.” Krycek taunted.
“Come to Papa,” Carlos crooned as he bent down to pick up the rodents by the handful.
Then he tossed them at Krycek.
Krycek screamed as one bit him in the neck, which sent him into the murky water below.
Carlos jumped in after him, but he didn’t want to rescue the man.
He couldn’t care less about what happened to the man who just fell in the water.
He had to know what he knew.
He had to find Jerilyn, and the man who fell into the sewers was the key.
“Pamela Anderson you ain’t,” he rasped when Carlos brought him to the surface.
“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if you melt in here from the stink!” Carlos said, “The only reason you ain’t fish food right now is because I gotta know where they took her.”
“I don’t know.” Krycek answered with a smirk
“WRONG ANSWER!” Carlos yelled, and held him under the water.
One minute ticked by…then two.
He yanked his submerged captor up again, only instead of the man he was chasing; his captor was now a woman.
A woman who looked like…
“Shit…” Carlos said, “Bravo.”
“Goodnight,” Bravo said, and she threw him against the sewer wall. She wouldn’t kill the man then.
Lux Carlos might still be useful for her next mission.
An hour later, Krycek was waiting for her in the bus station.
“It would have worked,” Krycek said.
“YOU fucked up!” Bravo hissed.
“She’s under their thumb, now, isn’t she? That’s what they wanted.” Krycek answered.
“You STILL fucking owe me,” Bravo seethed.
“I hope I’m there to see you die, bitch.”
“I don’t die till there’s nobody left I want to kill.”
“Nobody’s immortal.”
“Says you, Ratboy. The only reason you cheated death was because your girlfriend forced the Boy Wonder to heal you. And never, EVER forget one thing: I’m not nobody,” she sneered, and got on the bus to take her to the airport. St. Vincent’s Memorial Hospital Georgetown, VA.
The first sensation that hit Doggett was the cold. Then he became aware of air being pushed into his lungs and he remembered the smell of the oxygen tube courtesy of Lebanon.
He didn’t know how he got there.
The last thing he remembered was being out in the woods in Oregon. Jerilyn was…
“Doc?” He croaked out. Then he realized he was alone in the room.
He pressed the call button.
A petite nurse with dyed blond hair came in the room a good fifteen minutes later. “Oh good, you’re awake. She got out her chart.
“Do you know you’re name?”
“Doggett, John” he rasped.
“Do you know how you got here?” He shook his head.
“Well, John, I know there’s a lot of people who will be happy to see you,” she said busily checking his vitals. “A pretty brunette hasn’t left despite orders till today when she had to go on official business, and a pretty red-head and her precious little boy have been here every day,” Doggett’s eyes closed in relief knowing William was safe. “They both said they had some business to attend to but they’ll be back in the morning. What the hell have you got, a harem?”
“No blonde?” He said hopefully.
At first she thought her patient was trying to make a joke. Then when she saw the desperation in his eyes, she answered him shaking her head.
“Damn…you sure get around for someone who’s been missing for the past month,” she said. “I’m sorry, honey, no blonde.”
“MONTH?!” Doggett sputtered.
He knew it would only be a matter of time before they’d ask where he’d been. But he realized right then that he would have no answer. He knew nothing of the last few weeks.
Maybe thankfully.
In the silence of the room, the memories replayed in his mind’s eye over and over.
He didn’t flash on Luke, Barbara, or Reyes. He didn’t recall the fresh horrors of his experience. But the memory of the night he left would not let him be.
He remembered taking his partner in his arms.
He remembered how right she felt there.
His own words echoed in his ear like sharp nails scraping harsh and grating against a chalkboard. <God, I want you.> He remembered that for this split second, he had been happy. He had been free. She had given him the keys to love himself enough to let the ghosts go.
But now…now it was over. That was it. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. She was too much to hope for.
A few hours later, the resident doctors poked and prodded and asked him questions. Then an hour after that Mulder rapped on his door.
He was in perfect health. It was a damn miracle.
A God-damn miracle.
“Hiya Puppy Man,” Mulder said, genuinely glad to see his friend alive and almost well. Still Mulder walked around Doggett as though he were combustible.
“Mul-dah you son-of-a-bitch.” Doggett grumbled, “didn’t know you cared.”
“Look…I didn’t mean for you…” Mulder looked haggard, nervous, worried, like sitting down wasn’t even an option.
“I know…it’s ok.” Doggett said. “This ain’t your fault,” Doggett assured him.
“Scully and Reyes had to finish some questioning, but they’re on their way.” Mulder still couldn’t make eye contact.
“And Starkweather?” Doggett asked hopefully.
“She’s gone.” Mulder whispered, making an intense study of the linoleum on the floor.
He said nothing, so Mulder continued.
“She was on a plane…” his gaze never left the floor, “Doggett…”
“Oh God no!” Doggett breathed, he felt as if he was going to vomit, “Was it another terrorist attack or technical shit or…”
“No…the plane came down and all the other passengers arrived at the destination without incident.”
“How the hell…” Doggett whispered.
“I’ll find out. I don’t know how she got off that plane or what happened. But I’ll find out.”
“Just like that?! They took her just like that?! God…this isn’t happening…maybe she just walked off the plane, or missed her flight.” Doggett sputtered desperately.
"Nobody can just walk off a damn plane except for in Warner Brothers cartoons! And there’s records of her getting ON the plane. On the airport security cameras." Mulder protested. “She was abducted.”
“No…no…not like you mean it. Just because somebody’s missing don’t mean they were abducted by E.T.”
“Shit like this is all over the x-files. How the hell else do you explain it?”
“People just don't DISAPPEAR,” Doggett growled.
“I did. You did.” Mulder reminded him cruelly.
“How do you know? Do you remember what happened? I sure as hell don't”
“How do you know you didn't?”
“Because people don't just vanish, god damn it Mulder, when are you gonna get that through your thick skull, grow up and stop chasin' after these damn phantoms?”
“When I get my sister back!”
“Which one?!”
There was a silence between the two men that fell like a ton of bricks.
“What happens if she doesn't come back?” Doggett asked quietly, helplessly. “There's a shadow government after her. There's a renegade genetics ring after her. There's a loony tune after her…” he rattled off.
“Ha...now who's talking crazy?” Mulder snorted.
“It ain't crazy,” Doggett refuted, “all that shit's been documented in the X-Files. You know it and I know it. Hell, you started it. Aliens haven't been verified. The Eden Project has been.”
“So you'd rather believe that humans took you, Scully, me, now Starkweather, and made Scully conceive again?”
“Mulder, humans are capable of great evil, you said so yourself... evil is a disease and some succumb to it.”
“You think William’s a product of evil?”
“And you forget…” Doggett shouted as much as he could, choosing to ignore that question, “it was a human that murdered my boy. And it was humans that killed all those people... my friends... on September 11. So kiss my ass, Deputy Mayor, if I don't feel like ridin’ the flyin' saucer bandwagon.”
“I'm not saying humans don’t do horrible things...” Mulder insisted, “I'm just saying humans didn't do *this*
“There is no proof!”
Both men were so enrapt in their argument that they didn’t hear a small wrap on Doggett’s hospital door. They didn’t notice she was in the room until she cleared her throat. Both men silently pleaded with her for answers.
She prayed to God she would have them.
“John…good to see you awake…and…fighting with Mulder again…you’ve gotta be feeling better.”
“Did you tell him?” She asked Mulder, who nodded dejectedly.
“Dana…” Doggett said, “can you kindly remind the Deputy Mayor that there is no proof that aliens took our partner?”
“Yes... there is, Agent Doggett. I just got back from interviewing the passengers... several of them stated that their watches stopped...for nine minutes. And it wasn't just the battery. According to the automatic flight log nine minutes were lost mid-flight.”
“Something,” Mulder continued, but was stopped short.
“Someone!” Doggett corrected him.
“Something intercepted that flight,” Mulder ignored him. “We’ve seen it before.”
Reyes just then rapped on the hospital door, she didn’t have to be psychic or listen in to know what the shouting she could hear down the hall was about. She swallowed the tears of relief threatening in her throat. <Thank God. He’s okay.> “You guys,” she said when she opened the door, “we are wasting time arguing. We will know who or what took Jerilyn... once we find her.”
“Wow...mark this day on your calendar...Reyes makes sense.” Mulder quipped.
“Mulder,” Scully scolded him, “yesterday, she got out of her bed at 2:30 am…
“Two…but who’s counting…” Reyes said, yawning.
“To get on a plane to fly halfway across the world at YOUR request…”
“Four layovers…but who’s counting…”
“Don’t take your frustration over this whole ordeal out on people who could be a lot of help.” She finished.
“Sorry, Reyes. I’m used to having Stark…” he stopped himself short and suddenly looked about sixty years older than he actually was.
“There’s just one thing I gotta know. Can any of y’all tell me who won the Super Bowl?” Doggett asked.
Once again, the blinking lights and hordes of reporters were greeting a very tired ashen-faced Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder and Dana Scully—who looked—suddenly--old.
“Do you have any intentions of rejoining the FBI?” someone hollered.
“Do you have any conclusions drawn as to who took your half-sister?”
“Do you have any theories on what happened to her partner?”
“What happened to you when you were reported missing a month ago?”
“Due to increased security threats, I cannot answer your questions,” Mulder said, hands raised almost in surrender.
Reyes shoved Mulder out of the way as the reporters continued to bark their questions.
Finally, the throng turned into a mob and they couldn’t get to the cab waiting for them in the street.
“I can affirm that everything is being done to find my partner.” Reyes bellowed, finding confidence she never knew was there. “The Deputy Mayor has no intentions of rejoining the FBI, and has no conclusions drawn as to the responsible party, nor any theories as to what happened to John Doggett, who, by the way, is in stable condition. Agent Doggett is unable at this time to answer the question pertaining to his whereabouts over the previous month, and an investigation is taking into effect as soon as possible into both abductions. Conclusions have yet to be drawn as to whether or not they were related or isolated incidents.”
“Deputy Mayor Mulder, do you believe Extra-terrestrials had something to do with the recent events?”
Reyes clinched her jaw in irritation. “The Deputy Mayor is wasting precious time. A representative from the FBI will answer the rest of your inquiries.” Reyes answered, and shepherded Scully and Mulder out of the hundreds of angered people. They regarded her as she felt—like Moses parting the sea.
It was well after dark, but A.D. Skinner wouldn’t have known it. Now, only the workaholics remained in their offices finishing paperwork as the night security guards and the janitors started their nightshifts.
Tonight, though, he wasn’t staying late finishing paperwork.
Tonight, he was sifting through the evidence.
Tonight, he was looking for battle-plans.
Tonight, he was wondering how the hell Mulder was going to keep from going off the deep end.
How Doggett was going to keep from going off the deep end.
How they all were going…
He needed a distraction. Something to drown out the defeat. His distraction of choice was a jukebox he kept hidden from the dayshift underneath his desk. So, he got it out and allowed himself the guilty pleasure of jazz.
He took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyelids. He must have dozed off for a bit, because a feminine voice startled him.
Louis Armstrong was in the CD player on continuous play. The first track, “Hello Dolly” had begun.
“Well Hello Dolly, well hello, Dolly it feels so good to see you smilin’ again” rasped The Great Louis Armstrong.
“Mack the Knife” the last track, now resounded through the speakers.
“Put it on the desk,” he mumbled.
“You’re still here,” Reyes said it as a statement.
“Thank you for guaranteeing that fact, Agent Reyes,” then in answer to the confused expression on her face, “I was appointed to be the FBI Spokesperson after your little tirade on the press.”
“Jazz reminds me of New Orleans,” Reyes said, trying to sound apologetic.
“How’s John?” Skinner asked sincerely.
“The doctors released him today. So…physically…he’ll heal soon enough.”
“Everything else?”
“I’m worried.”
“Who knows what kind of ordeal he went through. Shell-shock has different effects on everybody who experiences trauma. But don’t underestimate the human spirit, Agent Reyes. We are not destroyed by our trials, we’re made by them.”
“We aren’t unbreakable, sir,” she released a reedy sigh, “My big fear is that he doesn’t trust himself. If he distrusts himself, he hesitates; in this business, a split second of hesitation is deadly.”
“You don’t trust yourself,” Skinner accused, “And you don’t trust your colleagues enough to tell them about your history with the Syndicate, so how do you expect John to trust himself? Distrust breeds distrust, Agent Reyes. St. Scully put up with Mulder’s crap for the better part of eight years. I think she can handle someone who got in over her head. You can’t go half-way and use that as an excuse.”
“What does Kersh have to say about all this?”
“That he wants to find Starkweather,” Skinner said, shaking his head incredulously.
Reyes audibly snorted, “You think it’s lip-service?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “Not anymore.”
“We’ll find her, sir,” Reyes said, and then stood to leave.
Skinner shot out of his chair and grabbed her forearm. “Tell them. It’s her only shot.” The End
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