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Starkweather: Ne Tempest Crede Category: Mytharc Rating: R Summary: Agent Starkweather just doesn’t seem to be acting like herself… meanwhile, when Agent Reyes’ sister, Teresa is kidnapped by CIA-operative-turned-replicant Knowles Rohrer, Reyes and Doggett race against the clock to bring Teresa safely home. Spoilers: Seasons 1-9 Disclaimer: Please, pretty please don’t sue me. I am just a humble fan in awe of the phenomena of the X-Files and must express my utter devotion and adoration by incorporating the brilliant creative characters produced from Chris Carter into my own sad little stories which I make no money off of whatsoever. Now that the ass-kissing is out of the way… Author’s note: I have inserted an extra year in between s8’s "Existence" and s9’s "Nothing Important Happened Today." This is the final Starkweather pre-s9 story. All future stories will be set after s9’s "The Truth." (series finale) The only thing that is off continuity-wise, is William’s age. In this story, he is a little over one year’s old.
Starkweather: Ne Tempest Crede By Scully3776 The recruit trembled visibly as he approached the office door, looming at the end of the hall. He was afraid and rightly so, if all the stories were to be believed. He clutched the small cedar box, about the size of a shoebox, in his shaking hands and swallowed while he forced himself to keep walking towards the door. He knocked timidly. He jumped when a silky voice ordered him to "Come in." "Yes sir," the man, more boy than adult, stammered out. "Bring it to me." The box would stay on that desk untouched until the Cancer Man needed it.
Friday, April 26, 2002 John Doggett’s Residence Falls Church, VA 4:27 AM Eastern Time Doggett couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning. Guilt kept him rolling over and over, trying to find a comfortable position so he could lie still long enough to sink into oblivion. Of course, it didn’t help that there was a very ornery and very vocally unhappy cat yowling in his bedroom. **"Doc, your cat hates me."** **"He hates everybody, don’t take it personally."** <<Stop it.>> **"I thought you hated cats."** <<Stop it John>> he told himself sternly, but he couldn’t help it. He held himself responsible. <<I should have listened to her>> he berated himself as he thought back to the last time that he saw her, bleeding like a stuck pig in the doorway of the seedy motel room, watching Starkweather’s sister, Alpha aka Lily Stratford flee into the woods after she stabbed him….
February 2, 2002 Belle Fleur, Oregon "Papa John, you ok?" "I’ll live. Look, we gotta stop Mul-dah. Scully’s gonna have my ass in a sling 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. "Come on Starkweather. If we’re gonna catch up to him, 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, alright? 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?" 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, "damn. Connection must be lost out here." "Doggett you and Jerilyn get 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 that 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?"
Back to the present… Her cries was the last memory of her voice that he had before… whatever the hell it was that knocked him out and held him hostage. He knew he should be grateful that the X-Files team came together and saved his sorry ass. But what did they save him for? If saving him meant sacrificing Starkweather… he wished they had left him to rot. **I wish a lot of things.** <<Stop it John>> he ordered himself as he swung himself out of bed, knowing it was going to be another night without sleep. Especially with the damn cat meowing. "I hate you," he growled at the cat. Caesar gave him a look that clearly said "The feeling’s mutual buddy." Caesar responded by sharpening his claws on the suit jacket Doggett had draped over the chair in his bedroom. "Asshole," he muttered at the cat as he swung himself out of bed. Finding a pair of slicky pants, a t-shirt that didn’t smell all that bad and his favorite sweatshirt, he dressed quickly, deciding that if he couldn’t sleep, he could at least go out for a run. As he laced up his tennis shoes, he began to schedule his day. Go for a run, shower, read through the latest information the Lone Gunmen came up for them, eat something and then head to the Bureau… After pulling on a windbreaker, he reached for his keys and wallet. Just as he was putting those items, there was a knock on his door. He reached for his service weapon… nobody just "knocked" on your door at four-thirty-five in the morning. "Doggett??" He froze. <<It can’t be… oh please let it be…>> he put the gun down and threw open the door. "Oh my God…" "Oh my God…" Doggett said, afraid to believe. With one hand, he cupped her cheek and the other he brushed the hair away from her face. And on her forehead, he saw the scar she earned on their first mission together. A small crescent moon forever imprinted into her face. She collapsed into his arms, in tears, shaking. Doggett scooped her up and held her close to him. "It’s okay, Doc," he said, his own voice trembling. "It’s okay, Doc, it’s over now."
April 26, 2002 Scully’s apartment 5:15 AM Eastern Standard Time Awakened by the phone, William began to howl. Scully sat up, hair tousled. She ran her fingers through her hair and reached for the cordless that lay on the coffee table. "This better be important," she muttered, rising from the couch and walking towards William’s room. "Dana, she’s here." "Doc… *Jerilyn*, she’s back!" "Well," Doggett looked down affectionately at his diminutive partner, wrapped up in a heavy quilt sitting on his couch. "She’s fightin’ me tooth and nail ‘bout goin’ to the hospital, tellin’ me there’s no way in hell she’s goin’. Sounds alright to me." He tried to sound light, but his voice cracked. Scully was weeping, leaning against the doorframe of William’s room, for once, not paying attention to her son’s sobs. "Oh God, oh my God," was all she could say. "Oh God… John…" Doggett held the phone out to Starkweather. "Scully wants to say hi." Scully felt her knees buckle at the familiar sound of her husky yet high voice. "Jerilyn, there’s going to be a lot of people who can’t wait to see you." "Okay… okay…" A reedy breath and then another, "okay." To Scully it sounded like Starkweather was about ready to lose it so she just whispered, "I’ll see you soon," and hung up. Scully crossed over to William, who was positively howling now, holding his arms out to her. "William, what’s wrong?" Scully said, picking up her son who clung to her like he did whenever he had a bad dream. "It’s okay, your auntie Jerilyn’s back. Everything’s okay now." While Scully was trying to console her son, Doggett was roaming his house, trying to find Starkweather’s cat. "He must be hidin’," Doggett said apologetically, sitting down on the coffee table in front of Starkweather. "He’s shy," Starkweather said. "Shy my ass," Doggett grumbled. He looked up at her, drinking in her heart-shaped face, her tangled blond hair and her fey hazel eyes. Hesitantly he reached up and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes. Her voice shook. "I thought you wouldn’t be here. I was so afraid you weren’t here. I thought you were still missing." "Doggett?" **
J. Edgar Hoover Building The hallway outside of AD Skinner’s office 8:03 AM Eastern Standard Time The elevator doors swished open and the Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder, with his guest badge clipped to his suit hurried out of the elevator. Agent Dana Scully was waiting for him. "Is it true?" he asked feverishly. Scully held out her hand and squeezed tight when he reached for her. She hadn’t been able to get a hold of him until just fifteen minutes ago. Tears of joy stood out in her already brilliant blue eyes. "It’s true," she whispered as hand in hand they rushed to Skinner’s office. "It’s really true; she just appeared on Doggett’s doorstep…" Just happening to look down, she added. "Mulder, those socks don’t match your suit…" Mulder engulfed her in the world’s biggest hug. "Hiya Hurricane," he said into her ear, his voice cracking. "Oh gawd," she said, rolling her eyes. "That damn nickname." But her pretty hazel eyes were tearing up again. As per her request, Doggett took Starkweather to her apartment so she could change out of the strange hospital garb she had been clad in to change into a pair of jeans and a well loved sweatshirt. At first Doggett had protested, wanting to take her to a hospital but she overruled him. "Please Doggett," she asked. "I’m okay, I just wanna see everybody. Please, just take me home." "Plus," Skinner said gruffly, tickled pink that one of his "lost sheep" had been returned to the FBI fold, but trying hard not to get overly emotional, "I want Agent Reyes to be here before we start the briefing." "I thought we lost you, Jerilyn," Scully blinked back tears. "I’m so happy to see you. In one piece." "And not mostly dead?" Starkweather quipped, hugging her back just as hard. "Yeah, me too. " She looked up at Mulder. "You guys didn’t bring William?" "He’s at daycare, he was asleep, I can go get hi-" Scully started to say. "No, no. That’s okay… there’s…. there’s lots of time to see Boo." Starkweather leaned her head against Scully’s fiery hair, looked at her partner, sitting alone on the couch, just staring at her. As if he was afraid if he took his eyes off of her for just one second, she would vanish again, that quick. Reyes tapped on the door, "Sorry I’m late," she said, her beautiful smile widening when she saw Starkweather. "God, I’m glad to see you Jerilyn." "I knew you were going to be just fine," Reyes said as she opened her arms for a hug. "You’re a Taurus, bold, stubborn, strong-will-" The minute Starkweather touched Reyes, a flash of hot white pain coursed through Reyes’ body. She nearly doubled over as Starkweather embraced her. And while the flames licked her veins, she heard a dark voice whispering inside her ear: **paindeathdestroyburnkillkillkillkill** Unable to take any more contact with Starkweather, she pushed her away, gasping. "Reyes?" Starkweather asked, a note of hurt audible in her musical voice. "What’s wrong? Are you okay?" She smiled gamely. "Hot flashes," she lied pathetically. "I’ve been getting them all morning. I’m must be coming down with something… flu… maybe." "Well," Skinner cleared his throat. "If you don’t mind, Agent Starkweather… I’d like to get a formal statement from you as to what happened to you. We still have an X-File open on you. An X-File that for once, has a happy ending." "Well…" She paused, pursing her lips together. "I wish…" She looked up at Mulder. "I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I wish I could tell you what you need to hear. But," she turned her focus back to the Assistant Director. "The truth of the matter is, sir… I don’t know what happened. The last cognitive memory I have is of me, barely making it onto my plane for Russia by the skin of my teeth. I got settled in my seat. The plane took off… and then… oblivion."
"No." "I’m color-blind," Mulder retorted. "But I can’t tell you what happened on that plane after I stepped on. It’s not buried, it’s not repressed. It’s just gone." "But-" "Eventually, I recognized some of the landmarks of Falls Church. And it clicked that I wasn’t that far away from Agent Doggett’s home, so I just made myself keep going. I had no way to call. My money was gone. My cell phone was gone. I was afraid to stop. To go in anywhere because… well, I didn’t… I didn’t know how time had passed since I had been in the airplane. For all I knew, it could have been years. I just wanted to get to somewhere safe and I knew Doggett’s house was nearby… although I had no idea how I was going to get in. I was still under the impression he was gone as well," she shook her head in self-depreciation. "But… that’s all I know." "Mulder, we’ll find whoever is responsible for Agent Starkweather’s abduction. This X-File is not closed yet," Scully said firmly. "Today… Mulder, let’s just be happy today, okay? Please?" Insistently she whispered. "She’s back, she’s safe." "I agree with Agent Scully, except for one note," Doggett said. "Doc, we gotta get you to a hospital." "Makin’ sure you’re okay." Doggett said firmly. "Look, Doc, I’m not saying you were probed by ET, but… looking at the track record," he chose his words carefully, avoiding Mulder and Scully’s eyes. "Let’s just make sure all your vital functions are workin’ they way they’re s’pposed. Okay? Humor me?" She sighed. "Okay," she relented. "If it will get you off my back." "I’m not saying I’m quitting the FBI. I’m not even saying I’m quitting the X-Files. But… in the last few months. With my father. And my husband. And Charlie and Samita. And now me… a lot of shit has gone down. I just need some time to re-prioritize," she looked up helplessly at Doggett. "To figure out what’s really important. To what I really want," she muttered, looking down at her hands. "I think that’s fair," Skinner said. "Although, Jerilyn, we’d hate to see you leave, I can assure you whatever decision you make will be respected. Until then, consider the next thirty days as medical leave. And rest. You’ve been through a lot, as you said." "C’mon," Doggett said, getting off the couch. "I’ll take you to the hospital. Let’s get that outta the way." "Let me ride with," Mulder said, putting his hand on Starkweather’s shoulder. "I’m not trying to be a horse’s ass-" he started to say. "Oh Mulder," she simpered, "you don’t have to try, it comes naturally." "I want that too," Starkweather said solemnly. "And a million dollars. And a pony." "Agent Reyes, you coming?" Scully asked, pausing when she saw that Reyes hadn’t moved from her seat on the couch. "In a second," Reyes said faintly. Scully nodded and left. "If you’re not feeling well Agent Reyes," Skinner said. "Maybe you should head home." So she excused herself and walked down the hallway, heading towards the basement with iron chains strangling her soul. She felt… no… KNEW something was wrong. Problem was, nobody was going to listen to her. Because they were all too happy. Because their wildest dreams had come true. Starkweather had been recovered. "Problem is," she muttered. "That’s not Agent Starkweather." ** Later… Jerilyn Starkweather’s apartment Arlington, Virginia… Doggett escorted Starkweather to her door. Handing her the keys, he said, "You sure ‘bout the cat? I can easy go home and get him." "So much for loyalty," she sighed, leaning against the door as Doggett leaned into her to kiss her forehead. "You know I’ve got your back," he whispered to her, running his fingers through her hair. "I know, and I count on that," she whispered, opening the door, backing away. Seeing the hurt spring into his eyes, she pleaded with him. "I’m sorry…" "No, I am," he said, backing away, the perfect gentlemen as usual. "It’s just that… I… I just found out I was missing for **weeks**… I… I don’t know where I fit in right now. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I even want to be here in DC anymore… because I… I…" she stammered awkwardly, looking at the floor. "Everything is so precarious right now. I just don’t want to screw anything up or screw anyone over. Especially you. You’re a heartbeat away from the AD’s chair now. I just need some time to get it together."
She leaned against the door, sighing. "What a mess," she groaned.
She crossed over to the window to peer out. Sure enough, John Doggett was getting into his truck and driving away. "He’s gone," she said simply. The Cancer Man walked out of Agent Starkweather’s tiny bedroom. "You may want to consider being kinder to Agent Doggett," he lit a cigarette. "We believe that he and Agent Starkweather may have been partners in every sense of the word." "We’ll see," the Cancer Man inhaled his cigarette greedily. "She is, after all, Mulder’s half-sister. Stubbornness runs in the family." "So does the guilt-complex," Bravo added. "We could use that to our advantage." "Reyes can be easily distracted," The Cancer Man mused. "We’ll throw her a bone to chase so she’ll stay out of the way." "Then can we speed up the timeline of the mission?" she asked. "I’m sorry. I think a month is dragging it out. I’ve got their trust. They look at me and believe I am Starkweather. But I don’t know if I can keep it up forever, especially with Reyes suspicious. I think delaying the inevitable is too risky." "Two weeks," the Cancer Man said. "Have it completed in two weeks from today. I’ll tell the Syndicate. I do not believe they’ll object." "Okay," Bravo said, crossing the small living room to the kitchenette to throw her cigarette butt down the garbage disposal. Crossing back over, she opened a window. The Cancer Man looked at her quizzically. "Starkweather doesn’t smoke," she said with a shrug. "Ah," he said, getting up to extinguish his cigarette. "We’re counting on you, Bravo," he advised her, "Everything hangs on this mission." "I don’t plan on starting now," she folded her arms. "Besides, this is going to be a cakewalk. Just keep Reyes occupied."
The next morning Saturday, April 27, 2002 Monica Reyes’ apartment 8:13 AM Eastern Standard Time One of the many reasons why Assistant District Attorney Nathalique Pontier was one of Reyes’ best friends was that she always had a ready ear to listen, no matter how insane the feelings were. It helped too that Nathalique thought before she spoke and was always honest when she spoke. Plus she had a great zest and curiosity for life, a flare for anything French and/or New Age. She was also one of the sharpest legal minds in all of Louisiana and the finest Cajun and Creole cook Reyes had ever met. Reyes missed her deeply. But thank God for the telephone and Internet. "So what are you cooking?" Reyes asked, phone cradled in between shoulder and ear as she diced oregano, onions and garlic. "Mardi Gras Jambalaya as that hack Emeril calls it," Nathalique said in her thick Louisiana accent. "Duck and andouille. Peppers, celery. Rice and shrimp. It’s to die for, ‘chéri’. What about you?" Reyes smiled. She could see her friend, barefoot, wearing a giant white apron over a simple T-shirt and denim jean skirt. Wrists and neck and ears and fingers dripping with silver and amber jewelry. Raven black hair twisted up in a knot on top of her head. Thick blue-rimmed glasses sliding down her sharp nose. Cooking up a storm in her immaculate French style kitchen. With pots of organically grown herbs and spices everywhere. And black and white photographs of Paris hanging on the walls. "Pork and green chile flautas." Reyes started to lift the heavy shoulder pork roast into the Dutch oven. "I can taste it from here," Nathalique moaned over the phone. When the women became close friends, they had spent marathon days teaching the other their favorite ethnic and regional dishes. Reyes could now make a fair shrimp gumbo and Nathalique was proud of her enchiladas. "Who are the lucky guests?" "Just my sister, Teresa." "Just for a few days. She had a convention she was at," Monica smiled, thinking of her passionate ‘hermanita dulce’. After graduating with honors from UCLA, she went to work for a year with the Peace Corps and became infected with the disease of justice. Upon returning to the States, she was hired at a branch office of Amnesty International in Los Angeles and was fast becoming an accomplished and respected lobbyist for civil rights. She worked tirelessly for international women and children’s rights. She knew about the atrocities the Taliban had inflicted on its feminine citizens long before the first plane ripped through the North Tower. "She spent the week testifying for Congress the conditions of Afghanistan when she worked over there. We haven’t had much time to visit… it’s lucky that she’s able to get away for the day today." "When does she go back home?" Reyes smiled. Only Nathalique, with her silvery French patois, could make the common English phrase "Damn, that sucks" sound elegant. It was one of the very few French phrases Reyes did not need translation, she had heard Nathalique say it if not once, then a thousand times. Although she was in no way fluent in French, thanks to her friendship with the flamboyant lawyer, she was able to pick up a smattering of the language. Mostly the curse words. Privately though, she thought Spanish was far and away easier to speak and more sensual sounding then ‘la langue de l'amour.’ "Oh well, it’s better than nothing. " "Chéri, what’s wrong?" Nathalique said instantly.
"Mon, you don’t call your friend at eight in the morning your time, nine in the morning my time if everything’s alright. Especially when you call the same friend last night to talk about the return of an individual you should be leaping for joy that God saw fit to return." "I know," Reyes admitted. "I know I must sound like a horrible person. Jerilyn is one of my best friends-" Reyes laughed, "Nat, I’m being serious." Nat was silent for a moment. Through the phone, Reyes could hear her chopping something. A tomato maybe. Finally, gently she said "Maybe it doesn’t feel like Jerilyn because deep down, you don’t want it to be Jerilyn?" "Of course I want it to be Jerilyn! She’s a friend. She’s a wonderful woman." "Nat…" "Drunk people only get more honest, ‘cher’." Nat reminded her. "And c’mon, Monique. Let’s get real here, he’s gorgeous. You showed me the pictures. He looks like the guy who played the bad guy from Terminator 2." "Plus, he’s nice, he’s a gentleman, he’s honest, he’s a hard-worker, he’s polite and he’s got a great ass. Je me demande s'il a un grand pénis?" she mused to herself as Reyes felt her blush heating up. She didn’t completely understand the last sentence but she got the general gist. "And you’ve had that sexy beast all to yourself for almost months now. That sexy beast with a strong mind, a strong honor code and a big heart," Nat stopped being crude and became very serious. "But because that ‘morceau de merde’ Brad ‘baise sa mère’ Follmer broke your heart, you’re once bitten, twice shy about getting into a relationship, so you didn’t do anything. And now, his ‘objet d’affection’ or ‘objet de convoitise’ take your pick, is back. And maybe it’s easier to think it’s not her than deal with the reality that you’re crying over spilled milk." "That’s horrible." "Especially a good looking man." "Monique…Quand la dernière fois vous fait était-elle de l'amour, chéri?" "No hablo francés, Nat." "When was the last time you got some, Mon?" "Nat, it’s not about sex and it’s not about jealousy. I promise you. John is very attractive, yes, but he’s my partne-" "Nat, please." "Funny, Brad has that effect on people," Reyes sighed, thinking how in a few short weeks, Follmer would be sitting cozy in an Assistant Director’s chair. Things just kept getting better and better. "Nat, about Jerilyn though… I thought you told me to listen to my feelings." "Nat, in my line of work… anything is possible though." She sighed. "Chéri, if you really believe that this woman is an imposter, then go do what you do best and expose the truth. But you better be prepared for the consequences, whether you be right or wrong." Monica giggled. "Well, when you put it like that…" "I know." "Absolument." "What’s going on today that you’re playing chef?" "Oh, just having a late lunch with some of the ‘avocats’ from the office. Eat like pigs, drink until we stink. Nothing spectacular." "Is a particular ‘abogado’ going to be there?" Reyes teased. ‘Avocat’ was another word Reyes did not need translated. But Nat needed ‘abogado’ converted to English. "Abo – what?" "Lawyer. ‘Avocat’." "Ah… Je ne parle pas l'amoureux espagnol," Nat reminded her. "And YES, you nosy thing, a certain lawyer IS going to be there. ‘Vous gosse’." "Don’t call me names," Reyes laughed. "So how ARE things going with Michael?" She grunted as she slid the giant roaster into her stove. She turned her attention to making guacamole. "Divine, absolutely divine," she moaned. "Monique, I think I’m in love… or least a very deep stage of infatuation and lust. The friends stayed on the phone for another hour, talking about this and that, new clothes, movies they want to see, concerts they wanted to go to, friends and family, little things. Girl talk. Finally, Nat said "Monique, my phone bill is going to kill me this month." A giggle. "I still haven’t worn the red skirt I bought when I came to visit you in DC. I think I’m going to break that out this afternoon and if Michael doesn’t want me after seeing me in that, it’s official. He’s gay."
"Deal," Reyes promised her. "You’re in my thoughts Mon," Nat said to her seriously. "’Vous êtes mon meilleur ami et je t'aime et espère le meilleur pour vous.’" "’Gracias. Y usted es mi mejor amigo y te amo y espero el mejor para usted.’" "It’s fun being bilingual, isn’t it?" Reyes laughed. "Take care." "You too cher." Alone in her kitchen again, Reyes thought <<Bilingual… the real Starkweather can speak several languages… and I think Spanish is one of them…>> Maybe she would have to strike up a conversation with Starkweather later on, after she got back from bring Teresa to the airport. *** A little later that afternoon… "Mon, you trying to get me fat?" Reyes replenished her sister’s wine glass. "Nope, just trying to get you drunk before your flight." "Well, how often to I get to see you Teri?" Reyes asked, sitting back down, pouring herself a glass of wine as well. "Is this where I tempt you with the sandy beaches and cool oceans of California?" Teri teased her. "With this weather," Reyes said with a groan, looking out her window, watching the rain pounding against her windows. "You wouldn’t have to tempt me very hard."
"I just feel bad because they’ve flown to the States to see me so many times, but I haven’t been back down to Mexico in years," Reyes bit her lip. "Well, not including that case that took me to La Isla Luna Blanca…" Teri’s face crinkled in confusion. "I’ve never heard of that place before? What is it?"
"Try me." "Told you so." A vacation. Back with her family. Away from this insanity. Reyes began to nod her head in agreement before she even vocalized it. A vacation. A gift to herself. She loved the X-Files, but she knew she needed to get away from it. <<Maybe that’s why you think it’s not really Jerilyn>> she thought. <<Maybe you’ve spent too much time being suspicious. Maybe it’s time to go home for a little way. Recuperate. Revitalize. Rest.>> "I’ll put in for leave right now," Reyes said. "I’ll be sure to finish up whatever assignments that are outstanding and not accept any new ones, if I can pull that off. I’m going to ask for more than a vacation… I’m going to take a sabbatical." "It’s about time, Mon," Teri said to her, concerned. "You work too hard." "It’s a demanding job." "It’s…. it’s been a hard year, Teri," Reyes confessed. "Although my work is satisfying and interesting… I saw some… terrible things in the past few months. Unbelievable acts of cruelty. I… I can’t explain it to you Teri." "Why not? You just confided to me about rampaging alien dinosaurs." "Not because you wouldn’t believe me," Reyes said, feeling the isolation wrap around her again. "But because I can’t. Because it’s confidential. Because it’s a sealed file." Teri didn’t pry, to Reyes’ relief. "I just hate seeing you this way," Teri said. "You’re normally so obnoxiously happy that I usually want to slap you." Reyes grinned. "Thanks a lot." She closed her eyes. "Things just… turned out differently than I had planned for… or hoped for." She shook herself and forced herself to produce one of her typical serene smiles. "I just need a break. I haven’t taken a vacation in over two years… if you don’t include the leave of absence I had to take last spring when I fell off that ladder and broke my tailbone," she shook her head ruefully. "I swear to God, I will never volunteer to paint another house again." "Okay then," Teri sounded like an excited little girl. "I’ll put in for vacation time the first two weeks of June. And when we get there, let’s plan a great big party for Abuelo and Abuela’s anniversary… ‘ una fiesta grande’, just like they used to when we were all little." "That would be great!" Teri beamed. "This is going to be so much fun. Hopefully Van can get away from work for a while and we can spend a weekend together, staying up late, giggling and talking about boys." Vanessa, the oldest Reyes child was also the only Reyes child to have returned to Mexico after college. She was a pediatrician at one of the major hospitals in Mexico City. The smile on Reyes’ face became genuine. "A big family reunion." She shook her head. "You know what’s funny?" "Wow. Weird." Teri grinned. "You know, I could go onto the Jerry Springer Show and announce to everyone that I am pregnant with an alien love child. Would that help you fit in more with the people you work with?" April 27, 2002 LAX Airport 11:16 PM Pacific Time Teresa strolled down the terminal, towards baggage claims. The flight was uneventful, but long. Her neck hurt. Her entire body was stiff. She was torn between soaking for a long time in a hot bath or just to collapse into bed. Her boyfriend, Liam Sealy was waiting for her just outside of baggage claims. "Welcome home," he grinned at her, reaching out for her suitcase, then kissing her full on the mouth.
"Thanks," she smiled. "It’s nice to be back. The weather was awful in DC." He chuckled as they entered the elevator. "How’s your sister?" Teresa smiled. That was his little ploy to hide the fact that he had forgotten her sister’s name again. He was always mixing up Van and Moni. He knew that one sister was a doctor and the other was a fed, but beyond that, he couldn’t remember. He always felt bad, but he claimed his poor memory was due to the fact that his brain was crammed to the maximum with knowledge already. It wasn’t his fault there was no room for additional information. "Monica’s fine," Teresa glossed over his blunder. "We’re talking about going to Mexico this summer for a surprise party for our grandparents." "Sometime in June probably," Teresa told him. "She’s going to be trying to get a sabbatical from the Bureau. Poor thing. I think she’s had it a lot rougher than she let on to me today over lunch…" her voice trailed off when she realized Liam wasn’t listening to her anymore. "What’s wrong?" "It was right here, Teri." "Are you POSITIVE that you parked it here? I mean maybe it’s on another level?" she asked hopefully. "My memory is not that bad," he said petulantly. "I parked my car RIGHT HERE." "Did you leave it accidentally unlocked?" "No." "Teri! I’ve lived in LA all my life! Yes, I locked my car door!" "You better call the police then." "Here," Teri started to dig in her purse. "Let me get my cell phone and call the police then." She lifted her head when she heard a car door slam. "What was that? Is someone here?" The security guard pulled out a gun, equipped with a silencer and shot him in the knee. Liam collapsed. Teri screamed. "Miss Reyes," the security guard pointed the gun at her head. "Come with me now, please." He then pointed the gun at Liam’s other knee and shot it as well. Liam howled in agony. "He dies if you don’t join me." Teri bolted. She fled towards the stairwell, still digging in her purse for her cell phone. She heard another gun shot. With shaking hands, she found and started dialing. "9-11, what is your emergency?" "Where are you ma’am?" "Ma’am, ma’am, please tell me what’s happening…" Knowle Rohrer, muscles rippling underneath the cheap blue material of the security guard’s uniform, reached and ripped Teresa’s cell phone away. She backed away and started to run up the stairs. "Get away!" she shrieked. "Get away from me!" She started running up the stairs again. After crushing the cell phone to bits, Rohrer ran up the stairs after her. He grabbed her ankle and tripped her easily enough. Teresa tried to fight him but he quickly overpowered her. He grabbed her by throat and smashed her head against the stairs, careful not to kill her. Picking up her limp form, Rohrer carried her to his car. He threw her into trunk then walked back to the front of the car, whistling. He peeled off the security guard’s shirt and threw it on the ground, next to Liam Sealy, who was in the agonizing process of slowly bleeding to death. For kicks and giggles, Rohrer shot Liam in the belly.
Sunday, April 28 2002 Monica Reyes’ apartment Falls Church, VA 5:55 AM Eastern Standard Time Reyes was lacing her shoes for a quick morning run when her phone rang. Her eyes widened in surprise when she noted the area code flashing on her caller ID was the international code for Mexico. Her parents’ phone number. "Bueno?" she answered automatically. "Monica?"" "Mami?" Reyes was startled, as well as she might be. Despite the time difference, it was incredibly early. Something had to be wrong. <<Oh, God>> Reyes thought in dread. <<One of the grandparents died>> She felt slightly disloyal in hoping it wasn’t Abuelita Magda Alma. Although she dutifully loved her father’s parents, Maureo and Vicenta, as a good granddaughter should, she had to admit that Magda was her favorite. She was more in tune to her grandchildren’s feelings. Magda’s husband, Elian had died years ago, before Monica had been adopted into the familia de los Reyes. Then Reyes realized that her mother was taking too long to respond. Then she realized she was crying. "Mami, que pasa?" she asked gently. "Oh, dios, Monica. Se va Teresa. Ella falta. Se ha secuestrado el policía americano la dice. Oh Moni. ¿Por qué alguien haría esto? Porqué cualquier persona tomaría nuestro Teresita. ¿Por qué? Dios Del Oh, Moni...," Senora Reyes blurted out quickly, too fast and garbled for Monica to understand. "Wait, wait," Reyes reverted back to English. "Mom, slow down. What happened?" "The American police called us in the middle of the night. Something has happened to Teresa. The police say she was kidnapped at the airport." Reyes felt herself sinking slowly down. It suddenly became very important that she sit down on the bed. "What?" she said breathlessly. "No… she was just here. In DC, Mami, I SAW her…" "Your father and I are going to LA," her mother said firmly now. "Will you be there?" "Yes," Reyes said like a robot. "Yes I will be there." "Will the American federales be involved? Will your friends help us?" The agony and desperation returned to her voice. Reyes’ voice was still lifeless. "Yes. Kidnapping is a federal offense. The FBI will be involved.
"I’ll catch the first available flight," Reyes continued to speak in a monotone. She gave her mother her cell phone number and the phone number for the Los Angeles Field Office. "I’ll probably go there first." Reyes closed her eyes tightly. "I have to go, Mami…" But Reyes had already placed the phone back on the cradle with shaking hands. She rocked back and forth on her bed just a little bit, her arms wrapped around herself, in complete shock. <<She was just here…>> Reyes was startled to feel tears sliding down her cheeks. <<I just saw her…>> She looked down again. For some reason, the phone jack caught her eye. It was crooked. As if someone took it off, then screwed it back on quickly. Reyes stopped crying but started to shake. *** Later that morning…. Starkweather’s apartment Bravo had fallen asleep on the sofa, covered with an old quilt that Starkweather’s mother, Lynnette Bailey had pieced together. She didn’t wake up right away when the phone rang. "Oh, shit," she muttered when the persistent ringing finally woke her up. She rolled off the couch and ran towards the phone. "Hello?" "Doc, it’s me." "A kidnapping? Who?" "Doc, the surveillance shows **nothing.** It doesn’t even show Teresa Reyes and Liam Sealy entering the garage." "What else could it be? But Skinner said that’s good enough for him to make it an X-File so that’s why I’m bein’ sent out to LA. ‘Course I think I’m bein’ sent out there more as moral support. Monica’s already left for LA to meet her family there. So…I… um… don’t know how long I’m gonna be gone." "Oh," Bravo wracked her brain for the appropriate response. Reyes and Starkweather were friends, but not best friends. Starkweather was closer to Scully than Reyes. It made sense that those two women would gravitate towards each other. Both women were medical doctors-turned-feds. Both women were incredibly unconventional with their lifestyles and yet still maintained a healthy skepticism. In fact, it was Starkweather’s skepticism that drove her to slam Reyes time and time again whenever Reyes would spout off one of her crazy theories. It was almost as if Reyes was really Mulder’s half-sister and not Starkweather. And yet, it was Reyes that helped pull Starkweather through some of the most difficult periods of her life during the past year. Her father’s death in the September 11 Attacks. Her husband’s murder on December 7, 2001, a new Day of Infamy. Her partner’s disappearance on a dark night in a forest outside a small town in Oregon. But her partner was back now. And waiting for an answer. Bravo, based on the personality profile the Syndicate spies provided her, Mrs. Starkweather would be brief. She would express her sorrow for her friend by offering her services. An excuse to bury the pain through work. And she’d probably cuss a little, to vent the frustration. "Well…" Bravo said hesitantly. "Shit." "We’ll find her," Bravo lied through her teeth. "If you need anything, let me know." "Doc, you just got back," he said, zipping up his bag. "You’re on sabbatical."
"Doggett, this is different. This is personal. This is about Reyes." "I won’t call you for something unless I absolutely have to," Doggett compromised. "Will you at least like me know what’s going on with the case? Keep me posted?" Bravo put real anxiety into her voice. She wanted to be damn sure that she knew every detail of the Teresa Reyes kidnapping case. So she could throw them off course if necessary. "Of course I will," Doggett said. Bravo could hear the smile in his voice. She could have vomited. "Thank you…" "Can you water my plants while I’m gone?" There was a trace of teasing in his voice. Bravo deduced that this must be a running joke between the partners. "I don’t know," she said airily. "With my hectic schedule. I have so many things to catch up on. Like my soap operas." "Okay," Bravo agreed while crinkling her face in disgust. She hated cats. "Anyway, I gotta get going." "Tell Reyes… that I’m sorry this is happening…" "I will." "Have a safe trip." "I’ll talk to you soon." He sternly told himself that there will be time to sort things out between himself and Jerilyn later. Monica had to come first right now. Back in Starkweather’s apartment, Bravo stretched out luxuriously. She craved a cigarette, but she would get over that. She could live without smoking for two weeks. No one would notice if she suddenly became irritable. Starkweather was ALWAYS irritable and she didn’t even jones for anything. Thinking of smoking made her smile fondly. Her benefactor had come through as promised. The Cancer Man had always been good about cooking up little diversions. He had sent that arrogant shit Mulder on countless snipe hunts. Now he found a snipe for Reyes to chase. The fact that Doggett was ordered to tag along with Reyes was an unexpected but delightful bonus. Leaving Bravo free to complete her mission in peace. "This is gonna be a cakewalk," she said to the unpacked boxes in Starkweather’s apartment. She curled back up on the couch and fell back asleep again. It was going to be a long time before she would be able to sleep in again. She wanted to treat herself for just a bit before starting out.
A little later that morning… Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder’s Office City Hall Washington DC Mulder glared at his cell phone as it flashed at him. "Not now," he mumbled as he pounded away at his keyboard. He was barely holding on to his "day job" by a thread. The Mayor had been very lenient with him so far, mostly because Mulder’s appearance boosted the Mayor’s own popularity. However… it WAS an election year and the office WAS horribly hectic and understaffed. And some of the personal was grumbling about how the Deputy Mayor really wasn’t pulling his weight. No matter how good Mulder may make the Mayor look, he wasn’t going to put up with his little CIA-imposed disappearing acts for much longer… Which was why he was in the office on a beautiful Sunday morning. Which pissed him off even more. But he had to keep up with his work. The Mayor had dropped a couple of hints that there was talk about getting him ousted out of office by some of the disgruntled City employees. Even though it was the Mayor himself who tipped him off to Sharon Kuhn’s disappearance, which subsequently lead to Doggett’s disappearance. And then Starkweather’s… His landline rang. "Bunny," Mulder pressed down on the intercom button. "I told you to hold my calls." Bunny obeyed, but she also continued to listen in. "So? What’s new Scully? Did Reyes get a funny feeling in her left pinkie toe which is now leading her to the location of Hoffa’s briefcase?" Mulder reached into his bag of sunflower seeds. "Mulder, her sister was kidnapped last night." "I didn’t know she had a sister," Mulder whimpered, indeed feeling like a horse’s ass. "What happened?" "But…?" William waved ‘bye-bye’ to the television screen.
"… then I called you. I haven’t told Skinner or John or… anyone." "Bunny?" "Or," Mulder frowned again, crunching on a seed. "Reyes knows something and the Syndicate is giving her an oh-so-subtle hint to shut-the-hell-up." "Let’s go back to that one later," said Bunny, chewing on her pencil. "Who provided the video? Who’s trying to help us?" "Blade Connor, maybe… but I don’t know how…" Mulder mumbled. "Why?" Mulder snorted. "It’s her doing that got Doggett and Starkweather abducted-" Scully rolled her eyes. "You need to get new material." "But it does make sense," Bunny said. "Lily Stratford has been instrumental at getting information from the Syndicate to us. She was the one that tipped us off about the Eden Project." "To save her own ass," Mulder reminded them. "She’s almost as bad as Alex Krycek, the way she keeps changing sides almost as easily and as quickly as she can change her appearance." Lily Stratford, aka Alpha, was the first child produced from a daring genetics experiment known only to the shadow government and the X-Files Division as "The Eden Project." Five little girls were created from five different fathers and one mother, Lynnette Bailey. Alpha, father unknown, could not only shape shift just like Jeremiah Smith and the notorious Alien Bounty Hunters, but heal all injuries and illness. She was considered very valuable. The imposter, Bravo, was the second and a preternaturally talented assassin. She, believed to be the child of the Cancer Man, was actually Bill Mulder’s prodigy. For whatever chilling reason, the Cancer Man switched the children so that his would be saved and Bill Mulder’s would be sacrificed to the testing. The third child, Deep Throat’s child Charlie, showed aptitude for art and clairvoyance, but was plagued by mental illness for most of her short life. A few months ago, she finally succumbed to the despair of terror and hopelessness and killed herself. The fourth, Delta, belonged to the Well-Manicured Man and out of guilt, staged the child’s death and brought her to his estranged wife and his two little daughters, Marita and Felitza. The child was raised as Samita and was discovered that she was quite brilliant. Brilliant enough to be welcomed into MIT at age 16 with open arms. But the Syndicate ever fearful of discovery drove her out of school when Samita voiced a fascination for genetics and began testing her own blood. Samita, unfazed, studied education instead, got married and adopted two little children. Samita Saint-Claire nee Covarubias lived blissfully unaware of her role in the Syndicate’s game. Until they needed her for merchandise and stole her away. Despite her recovery, thanks to the combined efforts of the FBI and CIA’s X-Files Divisions, her husband Connor Saint-Claire turned into the vigilante, Blade Connor. And then there was Echo. The true daughter of the Cancer Man and Mulder’s half sister. Originally, when Samantha disappeared, another child was to have entered into the Mulder home, essentially replacing Samantha. This child never came. Bill Mulder’s child was raised to be a killer. The Cancer Man’s child, Echo, was delivered to Hawaii to a young naval lieutenant who helped protect the Eden Project’s secrets. And then, like a vengeful St. Michael the Archangel, drove the demons from paradise. He took Echo as his prize, knowing that it was Lynnette, his beloved wife’s blood child. Together, they raised the exceptional little girl together, naming her "Jerilyn", a conglomeration of their names and cementing their family bonds. Lynnette died of the same crippling cancer that Scully miraculously survived when Jerilyn was sixteen years old. She never knew that Jerilyn truly was her own daughter. It was still beyond them what Jerilyn’s importance was in the grand scheme of things. Granted, she was highly intelligent… although Samita had her beat in the IQ department… granted she was exceptionally gifted musically and linguistically… and granted she was the only one out of all five women that could bear children, but Jerilyn didn’t want children… <<Dammit, what did Reyes figure out?>> Mulder pondered. "Bunny, get with Lux, see what he thinks. Scully… call Doggett. He needs to know right away that he’s dealing with Rohrer. Maybe Rohrer’s just slinging him into a trap." "Haven’t met him yet," Scully admitted. "It’s going to take you more than an hour to fill Carlos in?" "That… and there’s a sale at Victoria’s Secrets today." "Horse’s ass," Bunny grumbled, turning back to her computer. ** Later that day Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 4:01 PM Pacific Time "Right this way, Agent Doggett," Special Agent Sara Mathers said as she led Doggett down a dingy hallway. "Thank you," Doggett said quietly. Exhausted emotionally and physically, he trailed after the young agent. "Right here," Agent Mathers rapped on the door. "Who is it?" a familiar voice called out. "It’s me, Mon," Doggett answered. He thanked Mathers and let himself in to the small interview room. Reyes looked up from the case report as Doggett walked in. "Hey John," she said faintly, managing a little smile. "Hey," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across the table from her. "Holdin’ up okay?" Reyes shrugged and looked down at the papers spread out in front of her. "It just doesn’t make sense," she whispered. "Some of the agents here are thinking maybe her abduction has political and international ties because of her outspokenness against the Taliban. Which makes me afraid that this is going to turn into a witch hunt," she shook her head. Doggett frowned. "You don’t think it’s that though." It was a statement, not a question.
"No. I don’t," she was still whispering. "I think it’s something else, I think-"
"We have someone on the phone that has identified himself as your sister’s abductor," the young agent said. "But he refuses to speak to anyone but you, Agent Reyes." "Yeah, but he’s on a cell, so a trace is virtually impossible," the young agent said as he lead them down the hall towards the communications control room. "We can maybe figure out what tower he’s using for his signal but that will only tell us what city’s he’s in, if we’re lucky…" The agent of record for the Teresa Reyes kidnapping case was a handsome Latino man named Santiago Allende. "We’re recording," he informed Reyes as he handed her the phone. "Monica Reyes," Reyes forced herself to sound calm. "Agent Reyes, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of ever speaking to you. I normally deal with your partner." "Knowles???" Doggett’s face twisted in hate. "Knowles Rohrer?" "Used to be friends with the bastard," Doggett muttered as Reyes continued to listen to Rohrer’s chilling voice. "’Til he tried to kill me. I’ll call DC and get the head of our division to fax us everything in this sonuvabitch’s file." "You were warned once about joining the X-Files, were you not?" Rohrer purred into the phone. "How it could have long term repercussions?" "I want to talk to Teresa," Reyes insisted. "I would like to speak to Special Agent John Doggett now," Rohrer said pleasantly. "Put him on. I know he’s there." "Let me speak to Teresa first." Reyes looked at Agent Allende and Doggett. Agent Allende nodded and Doggett took the phone from her. "John Doggett." "Knowles," Doggett summoned up all his patience and professionalism to quell the desire to scream obscenities into the phone. "What do you want?" "Meet me tonight at eight o’clock at the happiest place on earth," Rohrer said. "And I will tell you what I want. Keep your cell phone on." Rohrer hung up abruptly. Doggett cursed and slammed the phone down. "Happiest place on earth my ass… how long does it take to get from here to Anaheim?" *** Meanwhile… Dana Scully’s residence Georgetown "Coming," Scully said, racing to the door, juggling very cranky William in one arm, and a thick file she took home from the X-Files in the other. "Who is it?" Scully unlocked the door. "Come in," she said. "I was expecting you… William! Ow! Stop it," she said sternly to the boy whose crankiness erupted into a full blown temper tantrum. "Excuse me, somebody needs a nap," she glowered at her son who continued to shake his little fists and kick his mother. "Can you take this?" She held out the file. "Sure," Bravo said, as she accepted the file from Scully. But it was doubtful Scully heard her over William’s screams. His little face was purple now from his efforts. "All right, young man," Scully said as she bore William to his room in a motherly rage. "I don’t know what has gotten into today but…" her voice trailed off as she went down the hall. Curious, Bravo flipped open the file. She arched an eyebrow at the photograph of Knowle Rohrer paper-clipped to the first paper. She flipped the file shut again when she heard Scully return. "Sorry," Scully apologized as Bravo handed the file back to her. "He has been such a brat lately." "Don’t worry," Bravo told her. "Makes for cheap birth control for me." She produced a grin and said. "Doggett said he left the keys to his house here?" Bravo reflected how easy it would have been right then and there to throw a ribbon or a wire around Scully’s neck and garrote her. She did have a wire tucked inside her left boot. Along with a pearl-handed switchblade knife. A small Derringer pistol was secured to her right ankle. Plus, she had her own bare hands to utilize in the fine art of assassination. God, it would be so easy… Scully plucked Doggett’s keys from the key holder and turned around again. "Here you go," she said, holding them out to her. "Thanks," Bravo put the keys in the pocket of the jeans she was wearing. Starkweather, Bravo reflected, had terrible taste in clothes. If they weren’t FBI-approved suits and shoes, it was jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts and sneakers. A few khaki slacks and sweaters. And a pair of combat boots left over from her days in the Air Force. Boring. "I’m going to make tea," Scully said. "Do you want some?" Bravo couldn’t comprehend how anyone could stand such chaos. Scully put the file on the kitchen table. "That’s alright," Scully said as she stood on her tiptoes to take down the little decorative tin she used to hold her tea bags. "What kind do you like? I have raspberry, Earl Grey, blackberry…" <<Great, it’s time for the big heart-to-heart, isn’t it?>> Bravo groaned to herself while carefully maintaining the mask of concern she wore. <<Careful, Bravo, careful>> she told herself. <<You’ve GOT to earn her trust. She’s got to trust you as she trusts Starkweather… … or better yet, she’s got to trust you as she trusts Mulder.>>
"… what has happened lately? To me or Doggett?" "Knowles Rohrer," Bravo said tonelessly. "That son-of-a-bitch." That sentiment was sincere. "You think he’s behind this?"
"I don’t know." Scully handed Bravo a Blue’s Clues! mug. Bravo wanted to gag from the cuteness of it all. "We have theories," Scully daintily sipped from a Washington Redskins’ mug as if it was made from bone china. "We think it may be repercussion to us for you being able to escape." "Well, this could be repercussion to Doggett. He and Rohrer used to be friends. Until Doggett turned his back on Rohrer to protect the X-Files." Scully shrugged. "Doggett and Reyes are close friends. Maybe he thinks if he hurts Reyes, he hurts Doggett." "You do??" "Just skimming through this dossier, it appears that Rohrer could be suffering from a huge inferiority complex. His," Bravo fished out a few pages from the file. "Marine records are good, but not bright and shiny, like Doggett’s. And actually, if you read in-between the lines, it was Doggett that carried Rohrer through his military career. Rohrer probably would have gone a long way if Doggett hadn’t gotten hurt in Lebanon and been discharged." Noting the healthy infusion of trademark skepticism in her voice, Bravo shrugged and said. "Like I said, I only skimmed the file. But it makes sense. The ultimate warrior. Better than any one else. And please don’t say Super Soldier." "Sorry," Scully smiled, remembering Starkweather’s hatred for that phrase. "Replicants." Then she frowned. "But I don’t see Rohrer as the type to be playing games." "That is possible," Scully said thoughtfully. "After all, the other Replicants we’ve encountered haven’t exactly been sane." "Like I said, it’s all theory and speculation." Bravo put the loose pages back in the file. "Do you mind if I keep this? I want to read over it." Bravo widened her eyes innocently. "I am resting. This will be my bedtime reading. Are there more files on Rohrer?" "I’ll try," Bravo said sincerely. Then she thought <<Then I’ll bury it so deep you’ll never find it again.>> She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Well… I suppose I should go. I need to pick up my cat." She tried to sound happy. She personally hoped maybe she got lucky and the cat drank some liquid cleaner and died at Doggett’s. "Are you sure? You’ll welcome to stay for dinner. Mulder will be here in just a little bit." Scully reached out and warmly clasped Bravo by the hand. "I’m so glad you’re back," she whispered. Tears were threatening again. <<Jesus Christ, this woman is dumb as shit>> Bravo thought while placing her free hand over Scully’s death grip. "Thanks." "I know," Mercifully, Scully let go. Bravo resisted the urge to rub her wrist. "You told Mulder you have no memories of what happened. Don’t let him push you or rush you. Healing will come in its own time. And maybe the memories will too." "What about Mulder?" "He doesn’t talk about it," Scully said fretfully. "I don’t think he has any recollection. But if he does… he hasn’t said one word of it to us at all." *** Meanwhile… Pain. Everywhere. And fear. Two consistents. One hope. One breath. One straw to cling to. "Stawk-weddah?" The woods. <<No, I’m not in the woods. Where’n the hell am I?>> Lights. Bright lights. And wind. And being pulling… Up? "Mul-duh?" The pain stemmed from the barbed wire, holding his body down on the table. Little metal hooks embedding into his flesh. His clothes were gone. Tables everywhere, lined up like gravestones at Arlington. <<What the fuck…>> A man approaches him. "Billy Miles…" The replicant, once a human who lived seventeen years in a small Oregon town as a carefree boy named Billy Miles stepped up to him and held up a needle. The boy became catatonic after the bright lights came to Belle Fleur. He became human again after Mulder and Scully’s first fateful X-File. His humanity was stripped away from him again after Mulder and Scully’s last official X-File. The slave made sure that the substance inside the syringe would flow. Then plunged the needle into his left forearm. It hurt. Needles never bothered him, but this injection hurt. As if gasoline was being forced into his veins. But nothing was like the Black Oil being poured over him. He longed to scream but his throat had been constricted for the whole process. He wriggled as the oil seeped through every pore that it hit directly and was absorbed through his skin like lotion. He clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling against the nausea and the barbed wire. "Get up." "Are you through wi’ me? I’m an FBI agent and you’re in serious shit if you don’t tell me where I am right now and show me the way out." Even now, those angry words seemed futile. "The FBI does not exist in This Place. We are the law." Mulder’s voice droned.
<<What the hell??>> "Mul-dah…you gotta get me outta here…" He pleaded to this man who only looked like Mulder. This Mulder did not exude the familiar arrogance and charisma. He moved like Billy. His face was a blank, like Billy’s. <<Oh Jesus…no…Scully…William…Jerilyn…>> Hands holding up now. Too tired to struggle against them as fists pounded into his stomach, his face and his backbone. **We are the law.** <<Oh Jesus…no…Scully…William…Jerilyn…>> **The FBI does not exist here.** <<Scully…William…Jerilyn…>> **Get up.** <<William…Jerilyn…>> "John, get up…" "Nothing’s happened yet," Reyes straightened up, crossing her arms tight around her long, lean body. She looked up at the ceiling. "According to the techs, Rohrer’s cell definitely caught a signal from a tower near Anaheim. They’re canvassing the area but so far no luck. I’ve been in contact with Skinner." "What do you think about Rohrer’s barb?" Doggett asked as he got up and straightened his suit and tie. "’Bout meetin’ him in Anaheim?" "He said to proceed with extreme caution." She stared at the tiny cup in her hands. "Funny. I remember telling that to you to stay in New York when we got that lead about Luke being seen in South Carolina." The cup fell to the floor. Water splashed all over Doggett’s shoes and she buried her face in her hands and started to cry. Doggett kicked himself for being so obtuse. "Mon, c’mon," he said, crouching down, taking her hands from her face. Rubbing her upper arms sympathetically, he said "It’s not the same, Mon. It’s not the same thing. C’mon," he whispered, fishing in his pocket for a tissue. The best he could do was a napkin from McDonald’s. "It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. Time is still on our side." "You sure?" Doggett said. "You absolutely sure, Monica?" **You sure Detective Doggett? You sure you want to go to South Carolina?** **** Meanwhile En route to Doggett’s house Falls Church, Virginia Not only did Starkweather have ugly clothes, but she drove a piece of shit car. But Bravo’s vanity had suffered greater outrages in the name of the mission. Under the presence of pumping gas, she pulled out her cell phone, a tiny little Nokia. She hit the number two button. "What do you want?" "You called me about that???" Rohrer fumed, stalking around the tiny studio apartment. "I knew about that! They told me it was going to be planted!" "I mean… I mean just keep your eyes and ears open and your nose clean Bravo," Rohrer said seriously. "You were given your assignment. And I was given mine. And the shit’s gonna go down soon enough. In fact… it could be happening now and we don’t even know it…" *** Meanwhile… The Honorable Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey’s house Georgetown He watched her intently from the cable-repair van as she exited the fancy car all Senators were entitled to while in Washington DC. Watched her bend down and say something to the driver. She smiled at whatever the driver said back to her and turned quickly, walking towards the house. Surveillance was easy. He didn’t like it. No challenge. He waited until the sun was down. He looked at his driver. "All clear?" He slipped out the backdoor of the van. Lights twinkled in the windows of the wealthy. He knew that a few miles away, a not-so-wealthy FBI agent was caring for her freak-of-a-son.
Or so he assumed. Why else would the Syndicate have sent her there? He slipped around the shrubbery, keeping low, just like they taught him at Quantico. He was not concerned about setting off burglary alarms, but to setting off the CIA. He knew they were monitoring her. Monitoring? Hell, they were on her like flies on feces. Inside, unaware of the intruder, the Senator was settling into a nice hot bath. She sighed as she let her head roll to the side. She reached out for the tumbler of Absolut Citroen on the floor. Scented water splashed everywhere, but the Senator didn’t care. Because she was a powerful senator and because no one could possibly believe her, the CIA had to let her go. She shuddered and sank deeper into her warm bath, trying not to think of those nightmarish days after the Deputy Mayor along his bubble-headed bitch secretary, who turned out not to be so bubble-headed after all, burst into her house. Caught her red-handed burning the precious journals belonging to Admiral Bailey’s first and best loved wife, Lynnette. She spent three days incarcerated by her own government until the order was given to let her go. There was no way the CIA could cover up the disappearance of a senator. Especially with people still spooked about terrorism and demanding more security. Hail Big Brother. "But be advised, Senator," CIA Agent Satish Joshi, a slender, elegant man who had come to free her. "You will be carefully watched. We have eyes and ears everywhere. You are free to do what you wish, of course, however…" he trailed off for a moment, as if lost in thought. "It would behoove you to cooperate with us rather with them." <<I hope I’m being entertaining for them, sitting here naked and getting drunk>> she thought as she wallowed in warm water and self-pity.
All the Senator ever wanted was to find her daughter, the elusive Lilly Stratford. Who disappeared on her prom night. Still in the beautiful gown the Senator had gotten her. When she met the Admiral and his adopted daughter, Jerilyn and saw how painfully similar Jerilyn was to Lilly, she felt hope again. She and Admiral formed an alliance through marriage to dupe the Syndicate into revealing Lilly while shielding Jerilyn. And it had all gone to hell. Jeremy was dead. Killed on September 11 while he was visiting a friend at the Pentagon. Lilly was still missing in action. And Jerilyn had been finally taken. But she had been returned. A small flicker of hope warmed her. Not as much as the heated bath and the alcohol, but a little. Just a little. Eventually, she got out of the tub and dried herself off. She slipped on her expensive pajamas along with the matching robe and slippers. Her little dog yipped at her feet. "Oh, you are fine," she crooned. "Enough. I have a headache," she said, rubbing her temples. Another drink would fix that. Silently in the tomb of a house, the Senator made her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. And found a man in a ski mask sitting casually in at her kitchen table. He pointed an FBI issued Colt .45 before the Bureau had switched to Smith and Wesson, Beretta and Sig Sauer. The Senator did not move. Special Agent Robert Comer reached into his coat pocket and held up an index card. The Senator read it silently, her heart pounding hard and fast. **GO TO THE GARAGE** the card read. **AND GET INTO YOUR CAR.** When he was positive the Senator had read the entire message, he shoved the card back into his pocket and then took out her car keys. He held them out to her. With trembling hands, the Senator accepted the keys from his gloved hands. *** Later… Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder’s Office City Hall Washington DC Mulder glared at the phone when it rang again. It had been ringing off the hook all day. And he had promised Scully that he would be at her apartment an hour ago.
"Mulder," he answered wearily. "It’s me," a deep voice said. "Call me back on a secured line." He pulled out his cell phone. Debated about going to his car but decided again it. The Lone Gunmen had come in early this morning and did a sweep of his office and declared it free from any electronic surveillance equipment. He hit one of his speed dial buttons. "Mulder." "It’s the Senator." "Hasn’t Agent Doggett called in yet?" "He can’t die, Mulder." Carlos wanted to beat his head against his desk. "Can you meet me here at HQ in an hour?" *** Meanwhile… Disneyland Anaheim, California Reyes stood by as Doggett paid for their entrance in cash. "Have a magical day!" the girl at the ticket counter chirped as she gave Doggett back his change. "Yeah, whatever," Doggett said, reaching out for Reyes’ hand. To avoid attracting undue attention, the game plan was for Doggett and Reyes to enter the park as a couple. Both were dressed down for their roles. Reyes pulled her long dark hair back in a ponytail. Normally dressed up in the latest, edgiest styles, tonight she wore simple clothes, her long legs endless in blue jeans. But she wore flat heeled sandals in case she had to run. And a pair of sunglasses she bought at a gas station on the way to the amusement park. She wore a purple sleeveless sweater, but one size too big which was untucked to hide the Sig Sauer in the holster attached to the back of her jeans. Her FBI shield was in her back pocket. Doggett’s black shirt was also un-tucked for the same reason. And he had put his FBI shield in the back pocket of his faded jeans as well. He had his cell phone with him. Both of them were wired. Undercover FBI agents lurked here and there. Doggett adjusted his LA Dodgers ball cap and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. He hated wearing glasses of any type. He gave her hand a squeeze as they walked through the gates. "Relax," he said. "All these families around make me nervous," she confessed lowly as they pretended to be a happy couple wandering around an amusement park. "What if Rohrer uses force? Or grabs a child to use as a shield?" "Seein’ that Rohrer can’t be killed, I don’t think he’d try that," Doggett grimly reminded her. "’Sides, I think the kids and families and stuff are meant to keep US honest." "Because he knows we would not start a shoot-out in a crowd like this," Reyes gripped his hand tighter, not stopping even though she knew she should. Starkweather is back, after all. But then, that nagging little doubt crept up on her again. <<What if it’s not her??>> "John," Monica breathed softly. "I think I know why he’s doing this…" Her eyes filled with tears. "But I don’t know how to tell you…" Not that he mistrusted her judgments. He just knew how much situations hurt and how tempting it was to retreat into some form of escape. For Mulder and Reyes it was into fantasies like UFO’s and psychic phenomenon.
However, Reyes nodded, willing away the tears. <<Be strong>> she told herself. <<Be strong for Teri. And when we get her back, we’ll see if Starkweather really is who she says she is.>> "What time is it?" she asked, her voice clear and calm as always. Doggett checked his watch. "Seven-forty-five." Reyes took a deep breath. "Okay." She tightened her grip on his hand. "Ow," Doggett finally said sheepishly. Reyes blushed. "Sorry." "We’re a bit early for the party," Doggett growled. "But that’s not the only problem." "Rohrer’s brought a guest," Doggett muttered as he began to maneuver Reyes and himself through the crowds. "A guest?" Reyes paled. "How small?" *** Meanwhile… Doggett’s house Falls Church, Virginia Bravo let herself in. It was dark. She did not bother to turn on the lights. She did not need to. She gripped the handle of the cat carrier. "Okay, get the cat, then get out of here," she grumbled. Without very much enthusiasm, she called out "Kitty? Kitty, kitty, kitty." When no cat materialized, she yelled out. "Come on, cat. Let’s go. Things to do. People to kill. I’m a busy girl, dammit." Then she clamped her mouth shut. Sucked in a breath. <<Fuck>> she thought. <<Bugs. Damn house could be bugged. Stupid>> she berated herself. <<Stupid stupid stupid.>> This was the house of the future Assistant Director, after all. Of course they watched him. Feigning affection now, she crooned "Kitty… keeeeeeeeeeeeeeteeeeeeeeeeeeeee…… Mama’s here… here kitty…" She walked through the house with a feline’s grace, never stumbling once. Darkness was her ally. She made her way into John Doggett’s bedroom. "There you are," she said in relief to the furry orange monster snoozing on Doggett’s neatly made bed. <<Bet you’re the only pussy to touch this man’s bed for a long while>> she thought with a nasty grin as she reached out to grab the cat. Caesar bolted awake from his nap and recoiled from her touch, hissing and spitting. "What is your problem?" she demanded the cat. "C’mon, let’s go." She reached for Caesar again. Caesar swiped at her, growling and yowling now. "OW!!" Bravo yelped, pressing the top of her hand to her mouth. Tasting blood, she jerked her hand away and glared at the four long wheals on her hand. "Fucking cat," she snarled. "I’ve killed for less," she announced, reaching for the cat again. Caesar shrieked in full feline fury. Bravo squealed like a frightened toddler when Caesar sank his teeth into her wrist. With her free hand, she grabbed Caesar by the throat. This only served to antagonize Caesar more and he dug his front claws into her arm while backpedaling with his hind legs. Bravo struggled to keep the cat in her grip, but once a paw reached up and swiped her face, she shoved the cat away from her. "Jesus!" she squawked, holding her bloody hand to her bloody cheek. "What the hell ARE you????????" Caesar lowered himself on the bed, still hissing, pawing Doggett’s comforter, the claws ripping through the cloth just as easily as it did through Bravo’s flesh. His tail twitched back and forth. He spat at her and growled. "Fuck this," Bravo announced. "I’ll deal with you later, asshole," he told the cat as she stalked out of the room. Caesar’s fur remained bristled until Bravo was out of the house. Then he sat on his haunches, lifted his front paw, licked it off daintily, sniffed the air, yawned and flopped back down on Doggett’s bed, purring. Score: Cat, one. Assassin, zero. *** Fantasyland, Disneyland Anaheim, California "Well, Rowan," Knowle Rohrer looked down at the little girl who held his hand. "Where do you want to go next?" Knowle Rohrer laughed at the child’s innocence. "Sure sweetheart," he said with a grin. "Then I better get you back." Doggett and Reyes followed nonchalantly. Doggett perceived that Reyes’ hand felt clammy. Loosening his grip from Reyes’ hand, he slung his arm around her shoulders and held her tight to him. Pretending to be chatting it up with Reyes, he murmured to the wire Reyes was wearing "Suspect headin’ towards "Small World" ride. Got a kid with ‘em. Seems to be in no distress; however I want all missing kid files checked for a girl, ‘bout seven, eight years old. Red hair. That’s all I can tell from here. Careful now. Nobody does a thing without my say-so." Reyes and Doggett got in line, about ten people behind Rohrer. As they filed through like cattle, Doggett’s phone rang. Reyes peered around the very large woman standing in front of them.
Reyes ducked behind the fat woman again. Doggett was still on the phone. He frowned more severely than usual. "Dammit," he swore, taking the phone away from his ear. "What?" Rohrer and his little friend had disappeared into the building. Descending the stairs with a hop and a skip, the girl, giggling, dashed to the first little boat. "Can we ride in front? Please? Please?" "Yeah, why not?" Rohrer and the girl were in the boat already by the time Doggett and Reyes filed down to the depths of the ride. The music grated on Doggett and Reyes’ taunt nerves. As if the screaming kids and moaning parents weren’t enough to drive the FBI agents stark raving insane. Reyes felt her normal serenity evaporate the minute she heard the nauseating lyrics: "It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world after all…" They past Rohrer and the girl in the first boat. Rohrer spotted them and put his thickly muscled arm around the girl in a not-so-friendly manner. The child, who had been talking a mile a minute, suddenly silenced herself, her eyes widening in confusion and a little fear. "What’s going on?" she asked Rohrer in a quavering voice. Rohrer looked down at the girl and smiled. "Nothing, Rowan. We’re just waiting for the ride to start. So be quiet. Don’t disturb the other passengers." "You’re hurting me…"
"We wait," Doggett growled, clenching and unclenching his fists. "We can’t do a damn thing as long as he has that kid with ‘em. He’s got us by the short and curlies." After the suicidal-looking ride attendant droned the announcement about remaining seated in the boat until the ride came to a complete stop, with a jerk and a lurch, the little boats began the cruise through. The young man and woman sitting right in front of them suddenly sighed in rapture and became twittering little love birds. Doggett’s phone vibrated. "John Doggett." "Agent Reyes." "Were you frightened, Monica Julieta Reyes? Were you afraid of never seeing your parents again? Your brother Jaime? Your sisters… Vanessa…. Teresa?" "Who are you talking to?" the little red haired child asked him loudly. Reyes could hear her without the benefit of the cell phone. As the other passengers shushed her, Rohrer said, "I’m just doin’ some business, sweetie. Watch the dancing dolls, now." Rohrer began to laugh. "Ask your partner how he would feel if the child he thought was dead was actually alive all this long time?" He ruffled the girl’s strawberry blond locks affectionately. "I don’t understand…" Doggett’s lips twisted into a hideous scowl. "Gimme the phone," he snapped. As Reyes handed the cell phone back to Doggett, he snarled "What kinda game you playin’ here Rohrer? All we want is Teresa Reyes returned to us safely." "Agent Reyes, you there?" "Why did it take two hours for them to reunite you with your parents? When you got lost in this very park so many years ago?" "And who else knows about that? Hm? How you used to be our little errand girl? Seeing that the cat suddenly has your tongue, I’m assuming that your partner has no clue and you’d really like it to stay that way." He now held the little girl’s head in his big hand. She tried to turn to look at him, but couldn’t move her head. "She has pretty red hair, doesn’t she?" "What time?" Reyes said tersely. "Noon. And don’t be late. Now, if you’ll excuse me," he suddenly turned around, grabbed the man sitting behind him by his throat and crushed his larynx. The child next to Rohrer began to scream. Rohrer flung the man away as if he was a useless rag. He proceeded to do the same to the dead tourist’s wife. Doggett tried to stand up in the little boat but it shook precariously. Still, he shouted "FBI! Federal agent!" while trying to get his shield and gun out. Rohrer grabbed the sides of the boat and rocked it fiercely. People screamed as their boats dipped and crested unexpectedly. A little boy, no more than two, almost fell out of the boat behind Doggett and Reyes. Fortunately, his mother grabbed him by one of the straps of his Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls and pulled him to her. Both mother and child bawled in terror.
Doggett lost his footing and stumbled back into his seat. His gun flew from his hand and landed into the water. Pandemonium broke out as the ride stopped dead. Rohrer stood up confidently, hands on hips. Doggett and Reyes tried to stand again. Reyes gave Doggett her Sig Sauer and pulled a small Smith and Wesson from the ankle holster Scully loaned her. Doggett pointed the Sig at Rohrer. "Dammit Knowle," he yelled at him. Rohrer calmly reached down and grabbed the little girl by the collar of her shirt. Kicking her legs and squealing, she cried "What are you doing? Stop! Put me down!" "Oh God," Doggett whispered, pointing the gun up at the ceiling instead of Rohrer and the child. Reyes spoke quietly into the tiny microphone attached to her body, "We need back up, now." As if she was a shotput ball, Rohrer hoisted the girl into the air. She screamed as she flew past the singing Eskimo dolls until she hit the water. "Hey John," Rohrer taunted him as he leapt off the boat into the water. The water came up to Rohrer’s sternum. "Kid can’t swim." Quickly he ducked underwater. Doggett handed the Sig back to Reyes and jumped into the water. "Oh Jesus," he groaned at the cold water. He ducked his head underneath the water. Doggett forced himself to open his eyes and with a powerful kick and front-stroke, propelled himself through the water. His heart pounded in fear as his lungs ached for air. <<C’mon, c’mon>> he thought wildly as he looked this way and that for any sign of the girl. <<Where are you?>> Doggett popped his head out of the water just long enough to take a big gulping breath. Lungs refilled, he sank back under. By this time, other federal agents along with some of the park employees had jumped into the canal to search for the child. In the midst of the chaos he created, Rohrer sat quietly in a dark corner of the canal where no one would look for him. He watched Doggett fumble around underwater then stand up to replenish his body with oxygen and dip back down again. Rohrer smiled. Life was so much more convenient when one could breathe through water. Just one of the many perks of being a replicant warrior.
He was sorely tempted to swim out to where Doggett was, grab him and pin him down and watch his face as he drown. However, orders were orders. Doggett was necessary for this mission. He was very useful in leading Reyes astray. Once Bravo completed her mission, Rohrer would be free to do to Doggett whatever he wanted. So for now, he continued to watch Doggett darting through the shallow canal, looking for a red headed child who couldn’t swim. Rohrer kind of hoped he found her. He was slightly attached to little Rowan. But if he didn’t find her, no big loss. Unaware of the marine eyes on him, Doggett continued to grope around on the floor of the canal, only going up for air when he positively couldn’t stand going without breathing. "Any luck?" he yelled to the other agents when he rose from the water a third time. Four minutes and forty-five minutes had passed since the child disappeared under the water. "No…" the other agents called out dismally. Doggett ducked down again. <<Please… please>> he thought desperately. Then he spied a pink tennis shoe with a Powerpuff girl emblem on it. Reyes was just about ready to jump into the canal herself when Doggett burst out of the water, holding the unconscious girl in his arms. Her face was blue, her lips purple. She only had one shoe on. "I need help!" he yelled, wading through the water as fast as he could. "She’s not breathing." Allende and Doggett made their way to one of the behind-the-scenes catwalks the employees used to work on the rides. Allende handed the girl to Reyes who began to help him administer CPR as soon as Allende pulled himself out of the water. All Doggett could do was watch nervously. An hour-long minute later, the child gagged and spit up a great deal of water. Reyes helped her sit up and pat her back gently as the girl continued to vomit water. "It’s okay," Reyes crooned, wrapping her long arms around her when the girl stopped throwing up and began to sob hysterically. "It’s okay, sweetie." As Reyes comforted the traumatized child, Allende looked up at Doggett. "Good job," he commended Doggett quietly. Doggett snorted and mumbled "Yeah, well, Rohrer got away and we still don’t know where Teresa Reyes is." "Well, then," Allende said. "Let’s keep at it." Reyes picked up the girl and walked over to the men. "Agent Doggett, Agent Allende," she said formally. "I think… we may have saved more than just this little girl." She dropped her formality and bent her neck to whisper into the girl’s ear. "They’re federal agents just like me. Tell them what you just told me, sweetie." "I wanna go home… I want my dad…" "I don’t know his phone number," she whimpered. Doggett and Allende looked at each other. "Queridita, what are your parents’ names?" "I don’t have a mother." When she shook her head, Reyes urged her. "It’s okay, Rowan, tell them what you told me." Rowan burst into fresh tears. "He was the guy that was in the boat with me," she sobbed. "WHAT???" Doggett said incredulously. "The man that was with you… the man that threw you in the water is your father?" Allende asked in disbelief. Rowan nodded, clutching Reyes. "Mierda," Allende muttered under his breath as Doggett said the English counterpart. **** Later Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder’s Office City Hall Washington DC Rain spattered against the glass windows. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance. The cell phone on his desk hummed. Mulder looked at it wearily. He had just returned from his meeting with Agent Carlos. He looked out the window at the brewing storm; then at the stack of files in his "In" Box. He groaned as he reached for his cell. "Mulder." "Are you at home in Arlington or are you still in DC?" Skinner asked him grumpily. "I’m in DC. Actually I’m having the Tahitian dancers imported. One of the perks of the job." "How much longer are you going to be at the office?" Mulder looked at the pile of work on his desk. "About twenty minutes… I have one thing left to do…" "When did you decide on this?"
"How does Dana feel about this?" He turned his attention back to his computer and began typing out his two week notice to the Mayor with a heavy heart. Only in the very deep recesses of his heart did he really did enjoy being the Deputy Mayor of the Nation’s Capital. And after years of misery and heartache searching for Samantha and The Truth, his self-inflicted Holy Grails, a quiet life with Scully and William would be a better prize than the one he had previously struggled for. More than just a prize. It would be heaven. But the X-Files beckoned… *** Forty-five minutes later Fado’s Irish Pub 808 7th Street Washington DC A live Celtic folk band was playing when Mulder walked through the doors. To Mulder, they sounded like Enya on crack. As he shrugged off his wet trench coat, he spotted Skinner in a booth, nursing a frosted mug of beer. Mulder worked his way to him. First thing out of Skinner’s mouth as Mulder slid into the seat across from his was "You’re late." "Heinekens," he said bluntly, keeping his eyes on Skinner Mulder, as usual, was oblivious to the girl, as he did in the old days whenever he was on a mission. There were only a few women who had ever been able to sway him from his objective. Phoebe Green. Kristin, the vampire. Dr. Bambi Berenbaum. Diana Fowley. Tea Leoni. Scully, however, was not a distraction. Had never been, as odd as that seemed. "Well?" Mulder asked as the waitress walked off in a huff. "What’s going on with the Teresa Reyes case?" "What did she say her name is?" "Pretty name," Mulder murmured. "And what was her father’s name again?" Mulder snorted. When Skinner asked him what was so funny, he said "’Falsch’ is German for ‘false’." "Anyway," Skinner continued irritably. "We’ve got an APB out for Rohrer and we’re working with Californian authorities going through all the missing children files that fit Rowan’s age and description. So far, they haven’t found squat on this girl. As soon as we exhaust the Californian resources, we’ll broaden the search to a national level." "Why…" Mulder said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against his chin, "would Rohrer be so interested in this child anyway… and why this game with Reyes and her sister… and why now…" Skinner nodded his head tersely. "Makes sense," Mulder nodded, talking to himself more than to Skinner. "Starkweather returns and not even twenty-four hours later, Teresa Reyes and the Senator are abducted. And now, this child that was with Rohrer…" Mulder mused. "I know the three fit together somehow…" But for once, his brain was failing to rise to the occasion and thread the very separate occurrences into one neatly plaited hypothesis. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds. Popping a seed into his mouth, he offered the bag to Skinner. Skinner frowned and shook his head. "Falsch…" Mulder muttered to himself. "Do you believe Rowan’s claim? That Rohrer is her father?"
Mulder opened his mouth to answer, but shut it very quickly when the waitress, disgruntled that he dismissed her advances, returned with his beer. She set the Heinekens bottle and frosted glass in front of him with a thud and asked him if he wanted to pay now or start a tab. Mulder, distracted by Skinner’s question, handed the waitress his credit card and mumbled something about putting Skinner’s beer on his bill as well. As the waitress stormed off, Skinner said "Thank you." "Mulder, back to my question," Skinner took a drink of his beer. "About the girl?" Mulder turned his attention back to Skinner. "If the weather is too bad, I’m sure Scully won’t care if you crash on her couch." Skinner shook his head. "I’ll be fine," he said shortly. "Storms generally don’t faze me." Mulder nodded. "Me neither, but I still don’t trust them." *** Meanwhile Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California Doggett was watching the girl through the two way mirror, arms crossed. He didn’t like keeping her cooped up in the dismal interrogation room as if she was a prisoner but it was better than sending her to a juvenile hall. And he doubted severely that a regular social services facility would offer adequate enough protection for her. Even with a federal agent there. The other agents chipped in to make the room as cheerful as possible. Somehow, they managed to find dry clothes for her as well as a new book of crayons and coloring books. The girl wasn’t coloring though. She was sitting at the table, head cushioned on her arms. Her legs dangled off the chair, her feet not being able to touch the ground. Doggett rubbed his eyes and continued to watch the girl. The lights appeared to blanch whatever color she may have had out of her face. She looked too exhausted to be scared. "Rowan, who are you?" Doggett mumbled under his breath as Agent Allende walked into the room. "That’s what we’re trying to determine," Allende said seriously as Doggett turned around to face him. "Our missing kid data base is coming up with nothing." "Even with the fingerprints," Allende grunted. "It’s as if she doesn’t exist. In the State of California anyway. We’ll have to go national next." "I know," Allende held a file out to Doggett. As Doggett took the file from him, Allende added. "And that’s something we do not have a lot of right now. For Teresa Reyes or this kid." "I wanna go home," she sobbed. "I know, Rowan, I know," Reyes crooned, scooting her chair closer to her so she could put her arms around her. "But we need to know where home is." She lifted her head lethargically. Reyes, startled at the child’s pale face and sluggish movement, turned to look at the mirror briefly, knowing her partner was behind the deceptive glass. Then, swiftly, she turned back to the girl. "Rowan, I know you don’t feel well. Do you have to see a doctor a lot?" "Do you know your doctor’s name?" "We called a doctor up from Children’s Hospital," Allende told Doggett gravely. "Not just to make sure that she was okay after the incident at Disney, but also to check for abuse. The doctor said there are no outward signs of physical abuse. But she was concerned about how white that kid looked and how listless she seemed, so she drew blood and brought it back to the lab. She called back fifteen minutes ago with the prelim results." "Types of anemia?" Doggett asked. "Didn’t know there were ‘types’. Thought you were just ‘anemic’ if you had it." "We should probably get this kid taken care of then." Allende seemed a little annoyed. "I don’t understand." "What do you suggest?" Allende stared back at him, as if he was trying to decide if Doggett was crazy or not. Then he nodded. "Okay. Alright, I’ll call the doctor back. And we’ll see what we can do." He turned and quietly left the room. Again, Doggett peered through the two-way glass. He crossed his arms and watched as Reyes rocked the child back and forth in her arms, stroking her strawberry blond hair. "Rowan," he muttered again. "Who are you?" Dana Scully’s residence Georgetown Mulder tried to be quiet when he let himself into Scully’s apartment. However, Scully had been sleeping in her overstuffed armchair so she jerked awake the minute she heard the key turn in her front door.
"… and I just got off the phone with Carlos before I got here and he said that they’re still tailing the Senator. They aren’t sure if the Senator is being taken against her will or is an active participant in this flight of fancy…" As the rain cascaded against the apartment and thunder rattled the windowpanes, Scully sat up a little more, her skin illuminated by the intermittent bursts of lightening outside. "What aren’t you telling me, Mulder?" Mulder took a ragged breath. "I wrote my two week’s notice to the Mayor’s office," he admitted as if a child attending his first Reconciliation. "I see," she said coolly. "I can’t do this anymore, Scully, I can’t lead a double life anymore… it’s not… right. It’s not honest." "I see," the temperature of her cold voice plummeted a few more degrees. Exasperated, Mulder started to say "Scully-" "Well, how do you want me to re-act, Mulder?" she snapped at him. "Did you turn it in already?" "No," he felt angry now. "I just wrote it. I wanted to tell you first. Before I submitted it." "I didn’t say I wasn’t grateful to Saint John," Mulder said blackly. "I’m saying that he would be a better Assistant Director than a federal agent schlepping away in a cold basement office. Face it Scully, with his military experience and formal education… he’s a better match with the Senior Staff than with the X-Files. Besides… who else is going to be a buffer between Us and Them when Skinner retires? We’re running out of friends, Scully. They’re all either been abducted, in hiding or…" He ran his hand over his face. "I can’t do it anymore Scully. I can not just sit on my ass and do nothing. It’s more… it’s not just Samantha anymore. It’s not just about proving the existence of extraterrestrials. It’s about you. And William. And Jerilyn. It’s about justice." "Oh, you plan on walking out in front of a bus?" "That leaves just Doggett and Reyes in the X-Files…" Mulder mused. "Don’t forget Jerilyn," Scully said. "She makes noises about leaving the Bureau… but you said it yourself. After the death of her father and of Ben… it’s all she thinks she has now. It’s her life." A control against the instability of his physical and mental health was provided by Lux Carlos, a CIA agent and Starkweather’s ex-lover. He approached Starkweather. He gave her a serum which he promised would clear Mulder body and brain. Not only did it temporarily heal Mulder, but also Starkweather’s insane half-sister Charlie. Charlie did not get to reap the full benefits of the serum, as her present physician frowned upon the use of experimental drugs. Charlie committed suicide shortly afterwards. Contemplating this information, Scully lowered her head. "So it’s only Reyes." Scully shuddered. She thought about her own losses. Her own sister. Melissa. Missy, murdered because the assassin saw her red hair and fired, thinking she was Scully. As if he could read her mind, Mulder said slowly. "Who else, Scully? Who else has to die? We almost lost Starkweather. And you can’t tell me that they aren’t still after her. What am I supposed to do? Lose her again? Or you? Or our son? Besides," he quipped, unable to take the heaviness of the atmosphere. "The CIA has a great pension plan."
"Give it a rest, Scully," Mulder said, suddenly tired. "Since Boo came you don’t really need the pushup bras anymore." He looked at her, shoulders slumping. "Why are we doing this? Why are we fighting Scully?" "Scully…" She turned. Saw him standing there in her doorway, in a wet and rumpled suit, looking so forlorn and lost. The hallway light glared brightly above him. Then the bulb flickered as the thunder boomed. A piercing cry slit through the darkness and loudness as Georgetown lost power. "I’ll go," Scully heard him say. Heard his footsteps going into William’s room. Heard him coaxing him. "Hey Slugger… what’s this? None of that now… it’s just thunder. Come here, come here…" Scully fumbled through her pitch black bedroom, hands out in front of her. Occasionally being able to see whenever the lightening struck. She groped her way to her dresser and by touch, searched for the big decorative candle that sat on the corner of her dresser. Her hand grazed upon the smooth pillar of scented candle wax. Groping around a little more, she found a book of matches. She tried three times to get a match to cooperate. Finally a flash of orange light erupted from the match and Scully touched the flame to the candle wick. The room was filled with the soft glow of candlelight just as Mulder, carrying a snuffling William, re-entered. He looked at Scully sheepishly, cuddling William to him. "Hi." Mulder smoothed down William’s hair. Scully stood very still and stared. And wished with all her might that for just once, her memory was as powerful as Mulder and Starkweather’s. That it would capture for all time, this image of Fox Mulder, in soggy trousers and wet socks, shirt sleeves of his good dress shirt rolled up as he held William in his arms. William in his favorite blue-and-white striped footie pajamas with the picture of Blue from Blue’s Clues! embroidered on front. Then she closed her eyes and looked down. "Um… do we have a visitor tonight?" "For a little while," Mulder sat sitting down on Scully’s bed. "Until the storm dies down. I think that’s what woke him. The thunder." "Why?" Mulder asked, moving his body just enough so he could be watching her face while he listened to her. She took a deep breath. "My father. He was always there. He used… oh, it would make Mom so mad, but he would let me and Missy watch thunderstorms from the window. ‘Get those kids away from there!’ she would yell. In the end, she would have her way, but until then… Dad, Missy and I would watch the lightening and listen for the thunder… Missy always thought storms were spiritual… even when she was a child, she just didn’t have the vocabulary to express herself… myself… I was just awed by the power of nature. Yes… I understood the dangers but… with my father there… I felt safe. And… as I grew older… the more I learned… the safer I felt… about storms… anyway." Scully sat there, again, forcing herself to focus and capture the moment. Father and son bathed in candlelight. She knew she had a perfectly good memory, as a doctor, she had to. But she wanted a crystal clear photographic image of this moment to keep forever. Everyone said William looked like her. Only Scully could spot the Mulder in the boy. The pouty lips. The brow line. The shape of his hands. The shape of the eyes even though the color was blue. And how they would crinkle up puppy-dog-style when he smiled. As William grew, Scully knew peace because she knew, watching him, it was undeniable who the boy’s father was even though everyone else saw the cerulean eyes and fair skin and pronounced him a Scully. "I’ll be right back," Mulder whispered as he rose to put the boy back to bed. Scully nodded as Mulder rose and carried William back to his room. She stayed very still as Mulder came back. "Can you blow out the candle, Mulder?" she asked. "I’m going to bed." Scully hadn’t moved. He made his way to him. "Nothing is going to change," he promised as he knelt in front of her, reaching to caress her face. They both knew he was lying. *** Later Jerilyn Starkweather’s apartment Arlington, Virginia Bravo switched the light on the abysmally small bathroom and frowned at her reflection in the mirror.
After that nasty little chore, she turned her face to better examine the scratches. "Fucking cat," she seethed, turning off the lights and storming out of the bathroom. She was going to have to think of a good reason why Starkweather’s beloved monster feline attacked her. There was no way to hide the wheals on her face. She stalked through the living room as if it was a bright and sunny day as opposed to a stormy night. Her eyes used moonlight and lightening the same as sunlight. Although Bravo had been test subject for the alien-human hybrid experiments; once against her will from in-utero to the age of six, then by her request when she was a teenager, Bravo was not one of the ‘Super Soldiers.’ She had no desire to be. She was lethal enough. She found the cardboard box she was searching for and dragged it over to the sagging sofa. It had been smuggled into the apartment shortly before "Starkweather’s return." Flipping open the lid, Bravo tossed out the clothes, books and other sundries camouflaging its true contents.
Placing the valise on the coffee table, Bravo punched in the secret code and the lid unlocked. Bravo knew how to handle a gun but she preferred more elegant ways of killing when circumstances allowed. Guns annoyed her. They were loud. They were clumsy. They were traceable. And once the last bullet discharged, unless you had a penchant for pistol-whipping, the gun was useless. Martial arts on the other hand, fascinated her at the age of thirteen. She had whined to her benefactor, the mysterious Smoking Man, to allow her to have karate lessons. Initially he had said no. But something made him change his mind. And now she was a chilling master of mind over matter when it came in turns of using her hand or her foot to terminate the appointed victim. Most martial instructors were impressed by her proficiency but if they knew her true purposes for perfecting a roundhouse kick or sparring, they would be deeply ashamed for contributing to her knowledge. Most martial arts teach that the student should only fight to defend. Bravo was hardly in need of any defense Granted, sometimes she needed a little assistance. Which is where her silver valise fit in. She pulled out what appeared to be a black tube of lipstick. When she took the lid off, in the place of a small pillar of color, there was a two inch stainless steel blade with a serrated edge instead. She examined it for flaws, as the thunder continued to rumble outside. Popping the lid back on, she made a mental note to be sure to have that with her always. Two inches could do a lot of damage. The next item she took out of her valise was enclosed in a velvet pouch. Carefully, she unknotted the slender ribbon holding the pouch shut and pulled out a long, silvery, nasty looking Chinese throwing darts. Bravo looked up and saw a dartboard hanging on the wall. Closing her eyes, she flung the darts towards the bull’s eye. When she opened her eyes again, she grunted in satisfaction. The first dart was square in the middle of the board, the second dart, slightly below. She then checked on her supply of pen-knives, clever little weapons, appearing to be innocent ink pens until the lower casing was removed. She frowned. "I better order more," she muttered, taking two out, one to put in Starkweather’s purse, the other to keep on her person at all times. The dagger she had strapped to her leg was slightly awkward. Bravo grinned when her fingers grazed the next item she wanted out. This was her brand new "toy", a ‘neck knife’ with a seven inch long blade, stainless steel, of course. The blade had a cobra design etched into it and it came with a matching stainless steel sheath. There was no purpose to this knife. She just liked it. It looked mean. As did her collection of ninja throwing stars. She just liked how they looked. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly murderous, she would whip one out and fling it towards a victim. Waiting to hear him grunt in surprise and pain as one of the star’s razor sharp points embedded itself into his shoulder blade or lower back. Then finishing him off. Or her. She frowned after checking out her stars. She reached back into the valise and produced a rag and rigorously polished all forty-five of her ninja stars until they gleamed in the lightening. Now, to practical matters. She pulled out two sets of handcuffs and made sure they were in working order. She reached down, pulled up the cuff of her pants and unlaced her boots. She pulled out the pearl handled switch blade and put it in her valise, taking out instead the three and a half inch boot knife, complete with its own little ankle sheath. The boot knife would be easier to conceal than the switchblade, no matter how much she liked the switchblade. Closing the lid with a sigh, she then reached back into the cardboard moving box and pulled out another case. This case was black instead of silver and a little heavier. This case contained all the guns she disdainfully carried and artfully wielded. She pulled out the Glock 25 that only American law officials were supposed to carry. She frowned when she noticed, even by the dismal light provided by the electrical storm outside, that it was very dirty. She proceeded to clean the weapon meticulously. In the dark. Bravo whistled slightly as she cleaned the gun. She knew she was going to be up all night preparing her weapons and plotting out the next step of her mission. She didn’t mind. She didn’t need sleep; she just enjoyed the sensation of sleep. The feeling of lying in a soft bed and doing nothing. But Bravo could function just fine on zero sleep. Just like she could function without any light.
Bravo smiled a nasty little smile to herself as she worked on the Glock. Alpha had asked her once to join her. Alpha, better known as Lilly Stratford, had one up on her; she was a shapeshifter, like the original Grays. Bravo did not have that ability. Bravo was also aware that if her other sisters knew their true capabilities, Bravo would be in a world of trouble. Fortunately, Alpha was still in hiding as was Samita Saint-Claire along with her adopted children. Charlie was dead. And Echo… Bravo stopped cleaning her gun for a moment and frowned. That was the one mystery she had yet to unravel. From Day One, Starkweather had been considered precious cargo to the Syndicate. Personally, Bravo considered her a pain, a liability. An expendable liability. But the Cancer Man and the others were adamant. Starkweather was to remain alive. But why? They had no idea how dangerous the youngest of the Eden Project’s Eves truly was. *** Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California "Agent Reyes?" Reyes turned around. "Yes, Agent Allende?" "¿Cómo está conociendo habla español, agente Allende?" "The wire you were wearing," Allende reminded her. "I heard you tell this… Rohrer… that the park officials couldn’t find your parents right away because you couldn’t speak English." "Oh," Reyes felt stupid. "That seems like ages ago. Not even the same day." When Allende did not respond, Reyes asked "Where are you from? Originally?" "Born in Texas. Raised in Mexico." She rubbed her eyes. She ached with weariness and worry. "Any word on Rowan? Where she might be from? Or who she belongs too?" "Okay," Reyes finally relented. "You have my cell?" "Agent Reyes?" "You’re going the wrong way," he admonished her gently. Her eyes instantly welled up. "Oh…" He escorted her to Interview Room C. "Agent Doggett?" he called out, rapping on the glass. "Yeah?" "I’ll be staying with Rowan and these… gentlemen…" she looked nervously at the tall, silent federal agents. She cleared her throat nervously. She looked like someone’s nice aunt. "Rowan should really be in a hospital…" "Okay," Doggett nodded. "Thank you for comin’ on such short notice Doc." <<I have to tell him, I have to let him know…>> Doggett was instantly at her side. "Monica." Doggett nodded. "All right. We’ll talk on the ride back to the hotel." He looked over Reyes’ shoulder at Allende. "Call us if you hear anything." Doggett ushered Reyes out the room. Together they started walking down the hall, towards the exit. It wasn’t until they reached the parking garage when Reyes finally was able to speak again. "John, I think I know why they’re doing this… why they took Teri… it’s because of me… and… " "No, you don’t understand…" He nodded. "Makes sense, don’t it? She escapes and not even less than twenty-four hours later, they take your sister? It’s retaliation." She knew him too well. She knew that she would have to be able to provide a foundation for her beliefs to him before he would even contemplate standing with her on her suspicions. <<So..>> she thought dully as she allowed Doggett to open the car door for her and guide her inside. <<Not only do I have to find Teri before something horrible happens to her… I have to prove that that woman back home is not Starkweather… no problem… no problem at all… except that she looks and acts and speaks exactly like her…>> As Doggett drove them back to the hotel, Reyes sat in silence, still pondering. <<But, we now know that Starkweather has sisters… sisters that are almost carbon copies. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. But Charlie and Bravo are dead. Charlie killed herself, she hoarded sleeping pills and overdosed. And Bravo jumped off a bridge when Starkweather confronted her in Arizona. Alpha and Delta are in hiding… plus Lilly and Samita would have no logical reason for impersonating Jerilyn. They have nothing to gain… >> Maybe she was going off the deep end. <<No>> she told herself stubbornly. << The feeling was too strong. That was not Jerilyn in Skinner’s office. I know I’m not wrong… I’m just afraid that it’s going to be too late to prove it…>> She looked at her friend driving. It was dark, so she couldn’t really read his facial expression. Plus, he was busy concentrating on the road since he was completely unfamiliar with Los Angeles. But she didn’t need to see his face, she sense his emotional state. Empathy, naturally. Concern for her. Worry for her sister. Dedication to hunting Rohrer down and retrieving her sister. And a sense of peace she hadn’t felt from him in a long long time. Her heart sank even lower. She felt nauseous as she recalled words said to her long ago, when she was a rookie agent in New York City. And Alex Krycek showed up at her door, after fleeing the authorities after his involvement with Special Agent Dana Scully’s abduction was revealed. "We also know how cruel the truth often is and we wonder whether the delusion is not more consoling." She tasted bile as she closed her eyes, resting her head against the window. He needed the delusion. ** Later… Comfort Inn 1710 West 7th Street Los Angeles, CA 90017 After Doggett relinquished the care of Reyes to her parents, Aureo and Raquel Reyes, he plodded to his own little room. His head pounded as he let himself in. He re-locked the door and trudged over to one of the queen sized beds. Tossed the keys on the little nightstand and sank down onto the bed with a small groan. His head hurt. Kicking off his tennis shoes, he locked at his watch, then at the phone. "Nah… it’s too late," he muttered out loud after figuring out the time difference. "I’ll call ‘er tomorrow," he told himself as he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed. As usual, his mind wouldn’t shut down right away. He was re-playing and re-hashing the day’s events, analyzing every moment, trying to deconstruct the moment so he could discover the plan, the blueprint behind this bewildering crime. A sister. And a child. And Starkweather. These three females were connected, that much he was sure. But he kept hitting brick walls whenever his mind would start to travel down different possibilities. He rolled over in frustration and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. He hated hotel beds. Especially cheap hotel beds. He tried to relax. "John, please... you're hurting me..." He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. No longer in bed, but in an uncomfortable chair, he stared at his partner. She was lying on her back. Her pretty, long blond hair was tangled. Her face was pale, except for her chin which was turning interesting shades of black and blue and green. She obviously was having some sort of nightmare; her face was screwed up as if in pain. She was talking in her sleep, muttering gibberish. "Doc." She shook her head in her sleep, muttered something about someone being "a dead man when I'm through with you." "Doc," he tried again. Her hands flew into the air, as if she was trying to fight someone off of her. Doggett reached for her hands and held them, "Doc, wake up," he said, more forcefully. "Oh God, Doggett," she sobbed in her sleep, "help me..." He didn't want to shake her, but felt he had no choice. He was going to scare the hell out of her, but he wanted to wake her up. "Starkweather, wake up," he grabbed her shoulders and gave her two sharp shakes. Her eyes flew open. Stunned, he watched her sit up and recoiled from him. Lightening-quick, she pushed him away, snatched up his gun from the nightstand and clicked off the safety, pointing it at him.
"Jesus, Doc!" Doggett's hands flew in the air. "It's me... I didn't mean to scare you... you were havin' a nightmare…" Her hands were shaking badly. Doggett felt his heart knocking against his sternum. <<I’m gonna die, she’s gonna lose control and pull the trigger…>> He didn’t take a breath until she looked down at the gun, then aimed it away from him, putting the safety back on. Tossing it on the bed, she crawled backwards away from the gun, from him. She sat on the other side of the bed, folding her legs up into herself, wrapping arms around her legs. She leaned her head again the headboard. She closed her eyes. Doggett reached over and took the gun back off the bed. He leaned back into his chair and just stared at her. Her pretty hair was still damp from the melted snow. She still smelled of the kerosene and sulfur they used to burn down the lab. Her face was badly bruised from a beating she received from Bravo. She looked so young, with her long blond hair and baby face. She was, after all, not even thirty years old yet. "Sorry," she whispered, speaking slowly. Bravo had delivered a kick to her face that should have killed her, or even broken her jaw. "Remember," she muttered, "insanity runs in my family." "You're not insane. It's just been a hell of a day." "That's an understatement." She opened her eyes. "Nice boxers." "Sorry," Doggett felt his cheeks heat up as he pulled at the comforter to cover himself. "Oh I don't care," she responded testily, sounding more like herself. Closing her eyes, she said "Let's get up as soon as possible tomorrow and get the first flight back to DC." "Okay," Doggett settled himself in to his chairs again. Starkweather scowled at him. "Doggett how old are you?" "Forty-one." "And I'm twenty-nine. Last time I checked, that qualified us for adulthood." After that long speech, she clasped her hands to her mouth again. In pain. "Just lie down here, please? You're making me uncomfortable looking at you in those chairs." Tears were coming to her eyes now, not just because of the pain but because of the overwhelming sense of confusion she was in. "I promise there are no firearms near me." He couldn’t stand it. It actually hurt him to see her in pain. He always thought that empathic power was some sort of drivel romance novelists dreamt up to sell books to lonely women. He got up and went to prepare another ice pack. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he got into bed. "C'mere," he said stiffly, reminding himself <<She’s a widow, she’s a widow, she’s a widow, she’s a widow...>> Starkweather scooted closer and settled into the crook of his arm. She felt like she belonged there. He tightened his grip around her as he applied the ice to her poor face. "Hey Doc?" "Huh?" "Happy New Year…" he said flatly, closing his eyes again... … and re-opened them to find himself not on a lumpy hotel bed in South Dakota with his injured partner in his arms, but on a lumpy hotel bed in California, alone. <<But, thank God… she’s back. She’s in DC… she’s not… she’s okay>> he told himself, settling back down, trying to get back to sleep. <<She’s home. She’s safe. Nothing else matters… she’ll be okay, we’ll find Monica’s sister and this little girl’s family… and… and maybe all this bullshit will finally be over…>> ** 5:55 AM, Eastern Standard Time Scully’s apartment Georgetown Scully jerked awaked. She rolled over. "Mulder?" "I know you…" he murmured. "I know you…" Scully shook him a little. "Mulder, wake up." Mulder did finally pull himself out of his nightmare. He stared at Scully with out-of-focus eyes for a minute in dawn’s early light. Then he blinked a few times and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Scully…" She sniffed. "Last time I act concerned about you." Scully reached for a pillow and whacked him over the head with it. "I’m going to make breakfast," she grumbled. "Do you want anything?" "I can take care of the coffee part," Scully slid out of bed. Mulder watched her slender form appreciatively, pouting slightly as she pulled the fleece robe over her lithe body. The robe made her look like she weighed five hundred pounds. Granted, she swam in the enormous silken top and pajamas pants she had gotten for a steal during a huge sale at Victoria’s Secrets. But the pajamas were distinctly feminine. Plus when there was a hint of static cling it clung to all the right parts of her anatomy. The robe, however, did not. But she obstinately refused to part with it. That robe was like her security blanket. Warm and fuzzy. Comforting. As she trundled out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, Mulder leaned back in bed and rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. Trying to analyze the dream he had. "I know you…" he said out loud, wondering. Then he got up and head towards the bathroom so he could shower while Scully brewed coffee and cut slices of homemade bread, made yesterday, courtesy of the bread maker Scully got from Bill and Tara Scully two years ago for Christmas. Mulder grinned as he remembered how the tag on their gift stated boldly: To Dana and William, From Bill and Tara, with love. The grin faded from his face. Family. You can pick your friends, you can pick your lovers, you can pick your nose and your ass, but not your family. *** A little later that morning… Interstate 295 En route to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania They had only stopped once, to refuel and to switch drivers. The Senator looked at her captor nervously. He had not spoken to her at all. Now, as they passed the exit to Gibbstown, she hesitantly asked him, "Who are you?" "What do you want?" the Senator tried to put some authority into her voice, but dammit, she was still in robes and pajamas. It was hard to sound large and in charge when you’re still dressed for bedtime. He, however, had taken off the mask, but was wearing sunglasses. She strongly suspected that his hair color was false as well. She did not like feeling so exposed. The Senator used to be a very powerful woman. Now she was uncomfortably aware that she was a mere pawn in this cosmic chess game. He still did not speak. They drove on for another hour before pulling into a truck stop just outside of Philadelphia. He finally spoke to her for the first time. "There is a long trench coat and shoes in the backseat. Put them on. Quickly." "Now," he said coldly. "Get out of the car and come with me. I promise you Senator," he took off his sunglasses and the Senator trembled at the sight of the piercing blue eyes. "Do as I say and you will make it out of this alive. We have no reasons for killing you at the moment. Do not give us any to." As she got out of the car, he pulled out his cell phone. Hit one of his speed dial numbers. A cold voice answered. "Yes?" "We’re here." He nodded to the Senator. For a wild minute, she considered running. Defeated, she realized, she had no money, no checkbook, no credit cards and no form of identification. In her pink toweling robe and fuchsia silk pajamas coupled with the hideous trench coat he provided, she knew that no one would believe her to be a power Senator for the United States of America. Everyone would think she was some crazy lady running around in expensive jammies. Plus, even if she did run, she was pretty sure a bullet could catch up to her easily enough. So the Senator, head held high, trying to command some composure, left the car. The mysterious man followed her closely, walking nonchalantly to the rows of semi trucks parked near the gas pumps. They wandered to a red semi, supposedly hauling foodstuff to a chain of grocery stores across America. The door swung open. A man in jeans and a flannel T-shirt hopped out. "Get in, Senator," he ordered her. The Senator studied him. "Please tell me the purpose of this," she asked quietly, but with authority. Her hallmark, her success in the Senator was her smooth voice, especially in filibusting aka stalling for time. "I have kept secrets before. I keep secrets still." "And what is that, dear?" she asked her as she brought her a tumbler of Captain Morgan and Coke. She was out of Jack Daniels. The Senator strongly doubted that this man had his Beretta safetied. And that he wouldn’t shoot her. Of course, after betraying her, the Senator doubted that Jerilyn wouldn’t shoot her either. Docile, the Senator boarded the truck. Once the Senator was sitting in the passenger side, the trucker yelled to her, "There’s a pair of handcuffs in the glove box. Put them on." After shouting those instructions to her, he turned to Comer. "Any problems?" "None," Comer said. "How about you?" Chapel shrugged. "Mulder is going to be neutralized." *** Confianza Nadie Apartments 3101 Hollywood Boulevard Hollywood Hills, California Rohrer finished plugging in the videotape recorder. He wished it was digital but the Syndicate had gotten really cheap in these last few years. Have a couple of really important men get burned alive by alien rebels and suddenly the purse strings get pulled shut tight. No matter. It would serve its purpose. Plus, Rohrer wasn’t sure if the FBI was smart enough to figure out how to view a digital recording. He turned the lights on. Made sure the chair was positioned perfectly. He strode over to the closet and unlocked it. "Wake up." Rohrer bent down and ripped the duct tape off her mouth. She squealed in pain, but stopped when Rohrer grabbed her throat. She gagged. "I am going to let you go to the bathroom to get cleaned up," he said coldly, letting go of her neck. "Don’t try anything stupid." He yanked Teresa up by the wrists, jerking her up to a standing position. Her eyes widened in horror when he pulled out a knife. She shook as he cut her wrists free of the duct tape. Legs trembling, Teresa allowed Rohrer to lead her towards the windowless bathroom. "Don’t take too long," he said, opening the door for her. "Show time is in five minutes." He pushed her inside and shut the door. Later… Capitol City Brewing Company 2 Massachusetts Avenue NE Washington DC 11:45 AM Eastern Standard Time
"Couldn’t wait for me, could you?" she said playfully as she seized a fat chicken finger and dunked it into the honey mustard. Mulder’s mouth dropped open when he looked up and saw the angry red scratches down her cheek. "Jerilyn, what the hell happened to your face?????" Mulder studied her cheek intently. "Where is Caesar now?" "It might take some time. For Caesar to recognize you." She then neatly segued "Well, still, I need to get him out of there before he gets back from California. Have you heard anything new? He left me a voice message early this morning but he didn’t answer his cell when I called him back." She nibbled the rest of the chicken strip as if she had lost her appetite. In reality, she was starving. She could have eaten all of Mulder’s chicken strips right then and there and still have room for another basket. "Between you, me and Chicken Little here…" Without consulting the menu, Mulder ordered a cheeseburger and fries. Bravo dithered. "Order whatever you want," Mulder droned as he took a decorous sip of water. "This is the courtesy of City Hall. A perk I will not be enjoying much longer." Mulder’s eyes flicked up to the waitress. Bravo quickly ordered the steak and cheese sub to get rid of her, then she asked him in a whisper "What is going on?" "I want to talk to you Jerilyn. I want to talk to you seriously. Without the bullshit." Bravo raised her eyebrows and silently applauded him. <<Mulder, you are always full of surprises.>> "I’m surprised Scully allowed it." Bravo rolled her eyes, a genuine emotional reaction. <<Christ, he is so fucking arrogant…>> "You’re not immortal, Mulder. You keep dicking around with this shit, you’re gonna get yourself killed and God knows who else." "Jerilyn," Mulder leaned forward. "I can not just sit on my ass any longer and wait for the FBI to take me back. Without your father’s influence, there is no way Kersh is going to reinstate me. You know that." "Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise." <<Ah ha… there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Carlos… Starkweather’s guardian angel…>> The plan was originally to terminate her through a Syndicate sanctioned action and have the blame fall on Carlos. But X had tipped Carlos off. And Carlos took his job seriously. There had been several occasions where he saved her ass and she never realized it. There were only two lapses of Carlos’ scrutiny. One was while she was pregnant. The Syndicate had been poisoning her water supply. Before Carlos and the CIA realized what was happening, it was too late, she had miscarried. Her husband blamed her job. She had been pushed down a flight of stairs during a drug bust gone sour a few days prior to the miscarriage. The other time was when Starkweather boarded that plane to Moscow and never got off. To Bravo and the rest of the Syndicate, Lux Carlos was a force felt, but never seen. They knew his name but not his face. And they hated him. So when Mulder dropped his name, Bravo paid close attention, her cold calculating mind working. "I can’t even begin to explain Carlos’ motivations." "Modesty does not become you, Jerilyn. YOU are his motivation." "And I am not abandoning Scully or the baby. I am simply accepting an offer to be a full time consultant to the CIA X-File Division." She remembered Krycek tormenting her once about a rumor floating around that the Cancer Man being Mulder’s biological father. Since Bravo was under the impression that the Cancer Man was HER biological father, she had not been amused. And just a few months ago, Lilly Stratford, Alpha, flat out said that the Cancer Man was not her father. That he was just using her. That he did not care for her at all. So Mulder’s words unnerved her. Mulder saw her face paling more and more as he spoke. But he was on his soapbox now and could not stop the flow of words out of his mouth anymore than he could dam Niagara Falls. "… I’ve lost friends and loved ones… I almost lost Scully and the baby and I almost lost YOU. That was the last straw, Jerilyn. I can not stay on the sidelines anymore. I can not, with a clear conscience, be the Deputy Mayor of DC anymore. It was dishonest of me to accept that position in the first place. When we first met, you accused me of being a puppet. And you were right. I was allowing myself to be manipulated." "Touché." "Well, it’s the truth," Bravo said irritably. "Mulder… you just can’t trust anyone anymore…" "So did I," Bravo said acidly. "I didn’t come here to argue with you." "Jerilyn, Carlos asked me to wait a little bit before telling you." Bravo dropped her mouth open in genuine shock. Most people would have been up in arms. And that arrogant fuck just sat there, chowing down on chicken strips and staring at her. Dammit, he was tougher than she thought. "The X-Files," she said "got my husband killed." "Because of the X-Files." "I was not supposed to stay in the X-Files as long as I had. I was supposed to do my tour of duty as a grunt in some field office, and then go teach at Quanti-" The calmer Mulder remained, the angrier Bravo got. "I love teaching. I got detoured to the X-Files because I pissed that fucker Follmer off in Minneapolis." "Doggett got detoured when he pissed off Kersh, but he’s not bitching. He even had a chance to transfer out, but he didn’t take it." Bravo felt her eyebrow twitching. She didn’t know Mulder could be such a cool customer. "I have been doing some real hard thinking Mulder," she said, voice shaking with a rage she did not have to fake. "After everything… I don’t want to be in the X-Files anymore." "I’m not saying you don’t deserve a chance to have children. And I didn’t say you didn’t deserve to grow old and fat with Ben," Mulder said, still calm. As if they were having a pleasant conversation. "And I’m not saying I’ll fight you on your decision. What I’m saying is this. Jerilyn, as much as you try and deny what happened to you, you can not. You can not revert back to blindness after what you have just seen. You can not pretend you’re normal. Because you’re not. And, even if you do decide to leave the X-Files, that is not going to guarantee you protection from the Syndicate. They’ll always be watching. Until they are stopped. And that is what I am asking you, Jerilyn… "Help us stop them. Help me protect you. And my son." "The truth?" *** Later… Sequoia National Park 11:25 AM Pacific Standard Time Reyes felt very small. Something she hadn’t felt since she was ten years old. When she was eleven, she hit her first growth spurt and discovered as her body continued to propel her through adolescence and towards adulthood, she would never have the luxury of feeling small again. Her lanky height would forever condemn to most women and some men to always look up to her. And to be barraged with every lame variation of the "How’s the weather up there?" comment ever since she crossed the five-foot-seven barrier when she was fifteen. Her height shamed her until she decided she wouldn’t let it bother her anymore. Her mind grew with her body until she discovered, by pure accident, that there was a tall, beautiful woman staring back at her in the morning when she looked in the mirror to wash her face. Still, this was different; Reyes looked up at the trees that were older than the city that loomed uncomfortably close to this spot of Nature’s generosity. "Agent Reyes?" Agent John Doggett sat in the backseat, behind her. "Yes?" Reyes asked Allende politely. "We’re almost to the rendezvous," he said in his serious, soft voice. Doggett and Reyes both had to lean a little closer towards him to hear him. "We’ve had agents scouting the area in a thirty mile parameter since last night and still, they’ve come up with nothing. We’ve got police barricades set up, we’ve alerted the park rangers… but I don’t think he’s in the park." Reyes closed her eyes again. Let herself drift away… "Mon?" Doggett asked her softly. But Allende admonished him. "Leave her… she’s thinking…" Still she attempted to place herself into a trance state, desperate to capture any sensation of Teresa or her captor. Instead of allowing her a glimpse of the future, her mind gave her a flash from the past. <<¡Abuela, cuentanos una historia!>> Fighting with her brother and sisters for the honor to sit on Grandma Magda Alma’s lap, whining for her to entertain them with gory tales born from the imaginative Mayans and Aztecs, their culture obliterated into dust long before their bones and brains succumbed to the same fate. Reyes remembered the feel of her grandmother’s hands clasping around her puppy fat waist and hoisting her up onto her lap. Reyes could hear her grandmother’s voice, soft and echoing inside her head ""Let me tell you, about The Jaguar and the Little Skunk," she whispered to the children in Spanish. Reyes could hear her own voice, chirping like a sparrow: "¿Está esto a la vieja historia?" "Monica?" The FBI, teamed up with the LAPD, the county sheriff’s department, forest rangers, state troopers and an Air National Guard unit had set up a temporary communications base. Allende ushered Reyes and Doggett to a tent where a stocky man was briefing a small task team, a Kevlar vest over the bland dress shirt of his FBI approved suit. "You Reyes and Doggett?" the man asked. He had a round face and brown hair. When Reyes and Doggett nodded, he said "My name is Special Agent Louis Malford, I’m Allende’s partner. "We’re getting ready to go back out in the field again." "What drugs were you doing when you wrote this report?" "I took two ibuprofen before writin’ that report, then two more afterwards." "I am not being facetious, Agent Doggett." "Neither’m I. I had a hell of a headache that day." "I could not brief my agents on the contents of this file, they would have laughed their asses off." "What didja tell’em?" Doggett demanded. "I hope you sent ‘em out there with SOME sort of precaution. Rohrer is a dangerous man." "If Rohrer is an international threat," Reyes asked quietly. "Then why do you feel he took my sister?" "I still don’t understand what that has to do with Rohrer kidnapping Teri," Reyes snapped. "He didn’t kidnap her because her political views. He kidnapped her because of me. Because of the work that I do. Because of things that I know. He’s trying to scare me into submission…" Reyes broke away from the circle of men, however around the technical equipment. "And it’s working." "Our best profilers are reviewing this case back in DC and they tend to disagree," Doggett disputed him. Malford ignored him. "We have evidence that Rohrer has been friendly with Afghanistan terrorists and has possibly opened communications with Iraq. We are not treating this lightly. This, under the new Homeland Security guidelines, could even be considered an act of terrorism. Agent Reyes, this is nothing personal against you. Do not start thinking that. It is incorrect. It’s personal to you because she is your sister and you love her. But it’s not a personal vendetta against you. It’s a vendetta against our country. He betrayed us all." And Starkweather’s adopted father had died in the blaze at the Pentagon. Reyes had witnessed the plane burying itself into that dignified military fortress. She remembered the smell of jet fuel, the nauseating waves of mass hysteria. And the taste of pure fear. Malford crossed her arms and glared at her as if she was a dangerous creature. "So what do you think it is?" Allende said quietly as he went to suit up. "Agent Doggett, I strongly recommend you quit dicking around about this Rohrer person and tell me what’s going on here. I am still agent-of-record for this case, no matter how Malford acts." Doggett bent down and picked up the crumpled fax. "It’s all right here," Doggett said, smoothing out the papers and handing them to Allende. "Case Number X05202001-8AB21." "An X-File?" "True, but Tea Leoni… damn," Allende said, still in that quiet voice of his. Allende, Doggett could see, was going to be a real mover in the Bureau someday. <<Hell>> Doggett thought glumly as he followed Allende and Reyes out the tent <<I’m probably dealin’ with my next boss.>> Or rather, higher and higher up as Doggett’s career foundered in the basement. With a ruthless mental shove, Doggett rid his mind of the self-pity and forced himself to have tunnel vision. Never mind his sad-assed career. Time to focus on Teresa Reyes. He drew his gun. So did Reyes and Allende. ** A little later… The X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC 1:47 PM Her real hair color was strawberry blond, a few shades lighter than Scully’s hair. Her true eye color, however were very similar to Scully’s, a laser-like blue that seemed to be able to cut diamonds. Normally, Bravo relied on wigs whenever she had to go undercover. However, in this mission, she decided it was not worth the risk. That was the one detail she sweated over, trying to figure out the right dye to color her hair. Starkweather’s hair was not naturally blond; in fact it was no where near blond. One of the reasons why the agents in the X-Files Division did not catch on right away that Starkweather and Mulder were blood-related was because at first Starkweather did not tell anyone her honey-blond locks came from a bottle. Her husband, Ben Starkweather, had caught the similarities between Mulder and Starkweather one night when a newspaper photograph of Mulder and a personal photograph of Jerilyn just happen to be lying side by side on their coffee table. The picture of Jerilyn was taken just before her first big dye job. Ben compared not just their mocha brown hair, but their eye color and shape, eyebrows and pouting lips. Starkweather, fortunate for her, had inherited her natural mother’s nose and fair skin.
So, with only surveillance photographs as her guide, Bravo researched nervously, trying to figure out which hair dye would be the best to get her reddish hair to become the same fake yellow color as Starkweather’s. Finally, a beautician in New York City got it right. Also she gave her a nice deep conditioning plus a neck and head massage. And she dried and styled her hair afterwards for half off the regular price. Too bad Bravo had to kill her, but she stuck by her edict firmly: No witnesses. The eyes however were easy. Contact lenses. The hazel lenses over her chilling blue eyes heightened the illusion of the changing eye color, as per the rumor that Mulder and Starkweather’s eye color shifted to match whatever mood they were in. Bravo thought that rumor was a bunch of bull until she sat across from Mulder today. His eyes had seemed to be brown with a tinge of green laced through it. However, as their argument progressed, the more and more pronounced the green became until his eyes looked to be green ringed with gold. Bravo frowned to herself as she walked down the dingy hallway towards the X-Files Office. Mulder. God, it made her angry that he could get under her skin just like that. It made her even angrier that she allowed him to get under her skin. She didn’t understand why the Syndicate allowed him to live. Lesser men than he had perished before. Men like Bill Mulder for example. Bravo sighed heavily just before she entered the office. She could hear Scully on the phone. This was going to be harder than she thought. She may have to speed up the time frame. Whether the Syndicate liked it or not. As Bravo entered the office, Scully looked up at her and greeted her with a warm smile. Bravo smiled back in return and sat down at Mulder’s old desk. A fine layer of dust coated everything, included a few sunflower seeds. As Scully continued to talk on the telephone, Bravo propped her feet up on Mulder’s desk and surveyed the office. It had been expanded. Agents Scully, Doggett and Starkweather had their own desks, Bravo noted, but Reyes did not. She looked up and saw a few pencils hanging the cheap ceiling tiles. She leaned over and pulled a pencil out of a forgotten penholder on Mulder’s desk. She played with the pencil as she continued to look around. She noted the rows of filing cabinets to the left of Mulder’s desk. <<What dirty little secrets are we hiding here?>> she wondered as Scully curtly said "Goodbye," and hung up the phone. "Sorry, I… oh my God," she said to the woman sitting at her partner’s desk. "What happened to your face?" "My cat hates me," she responded succinctly. "So," Bravo arched an eyebrow. "When were you going to get around telling me about the Senator’s Houdini act?" Bravo shrugged. "It’s just one more thing." "It’s not about strength… it’s about… oh hell," Scully ran her fingers through her fiery hair. She was in the process of growing out her layered bob so her hair stuck out every-which-way when she did that. "I don’t know if I can bear one more thing." She shook herself. "We’ve battled worse odds," she quoted herself as she stood up. "Let me help you find the files on Rohrer. There aren’t that many." Scully shook her head. "Not here anyway," she murmured. Now Scully held Bravo’s full attention. "Where are…?" Bravo knew she could have taken Scully out right then and there with a heavy blow to the back of her head with a blunt object. She examined her nails instead. The kill was thrilling but the pursuit at times was even better. But dammit, she thought Scully was smart. With all the intel she had been given on her, she thought Scully was going to be slippery quarry. All she’s seen Agent Scully being was a wishy-washy mommy. Mulder was going to be a pain in the ass, but Scully was going to be a cakewalk. Scully stood up and smoothed her skirt. She placed three heavy files on Mulder’s desk. A small pouf of dust rose when the manila files hit the desk. Bravo reached over and grabbed the file on top, labeled innocently "X02202001-8AB08." "So," Scully asked, picking the second file. "How did it go? With Mulder?" "But he already has." Bravo mustered up all the charm she had to offer. "Aw, Scully… come on… it’s me." "You were never in Girl Scouts, were you?" "Just a little more of him to love, I suppose," Bravo teased while thinking <<whipped.>> As Scully scowled at her Bravo whined, "Please, Scully, this will make life easier for everyone. And you know, and I know that we’ve ALL broken the "No files out of the office" rule before. Hell, more files have been destroyed within the office than out." Sequoia National Park 11:57 AM Pacific Standard Time "Over here!" Agents Malford, Allende, Doggett and Reyes ran towards the giant Sequoia that was surrounded by law enforcers of all shapes, sizes and jurisdictions. "What is it?" Malford demanded. "What did you find?" The Guardsman looked over at Doggett and Reyes, standing behind Allende and Malford. "Is that… Agent Reyes, sir?" "Monica, don’t," he pleaded with her. "Stay here." "It’s a shoebox, sir." "Yeah, be on the look out for a suspect that wears cheap shoes," Allende grumbled. "Allende," Doggett said in admiration. "That was almost a joke." "Homicidal maniac, going after the working girls of Sunset Boulevard. After he’d do ‘em, he’d slice their ears off and then kill ‘em and dump the bodies in a field. He’d do ‘em in threes. Then we’d find the boxes of ears first, the girls, about three, four days later. The feds got called in after the second set of three." Doggett nodded emphatically. "I’ve got cases like that too. Those are the cases that keep ya up at night." Doggett looked over at Reyes, then back at Allende. "Let’s not let THIS case be like THOSE cases." "Agreed," Allende nodded. "Come on. Let’s take a look." Doggett and Allende flashed their badges to everyone as the approached the box. It looked so harmless in the scheme of things. A small box that once held a harmless pair of women’s shoes now held… God only knew what. A woman, slender with wildly frizzy blonde hair, was busy taking scrapings off the top of the box. She looked up at the two men hovering over her and smiled. "Newbies," she said dryly as she finished her work. Using her upper arm instead of her gloved hand to push up her ugly glasses, she asked "So who are you with? Fed, coppers, G.I. Joe?" "Feds," Doggett flashed his badge again. "My name is Agent John Doggett and this is Agent Santiago Allende. He’s the agent of record for the FBI." "No’m, I’m from DC. I work with Agent Monica Reyes." "She shouldn’t be," Lyoness retorted. "I have a feeling this is gonna get ugly, yo! Howie! Get your beautiful bald head over here, I’ve got feds wanting to talk at you." "Delightful my ass," Matthews grimaced. "That’s why I left screamin’ at age eighteen to join the Army. Delightful my ass, girl how fucked up is you? Sorry, what’chu names?" "Well, Southern boy, as long as you left your pointy hat and white robes at home, youse okay." "Oh yeah? What’s that?" Matthews snorts. "Yeah, youse okay. So anyways, like I was tellin’ the cops, there’s a letter, computer print-out, taped to the box. We’ve takin’ the letter back to the labs right now. We’re hopin’ for something, anything. Fingerprints, hair, residual saliva, anything like that. Something that’s a marker, right?" "What did the letter say?" Allende asked. "Hold your horses, Pedro. I’m gettin’ to that." "Jesus. Touchy. Sorry man. Just playin’. Hell, I called the white boy over there a Klu Klucker and he didn’t piss and moan," Matthews grumbled. "Anyways, the letter is made out to an Agent Monica Reyes… relative I’m thinking, right? I haven’t had much time to go over the case files. Just kinda skimmed on my way here." "All the letter says is "Special Agent Monica Reyes." It’s typed out, computer. We’re gonna see if we can determine where maybe the ink was bought. If it’s a fancy-schmancy ink, that you can get only at certain stores, we may catch a break. But I’m not holding my breath. But they-" he jerked his head towards a circle of police officers who were surrounding the box, "won’t let up open it up until they’re positive it ain’t gonna blow up. So we’s gotta wait for the bomb squad." "Gotta get it to a lab to be analyzed," Lyoness said. "So basically we get to sit on our asses until the bomb squad shows up. I had to do a lot of whinin’ to even get the scrapin’s off the top of the box. I think I even promised a blow job to one of the cops. Hope my husband doesn’t care." "I’m open to suggestions, Agent Doggett," Allende said quietly. "Miss Lyoness, do you have a scalpel on ya, by chance?" "Be prepared," she produced a clean, shiny scalpel for him. "Agent Doggett," Allende called after him as Doggett snatched the scalpel from her hands and started walking towards the shoebox. "What are you going to do?" "I’m gonna go piss some people off." And why the hell not? His career was pretty much in the toilet anyway. "Move," Doggett said brusquely as he pushed through the ring of cops, flashing his FBI badge. "Hey, are you with the bomb squad?" one of them asked. As Doggett crouched down over the box, he said dryly "Lemme put it this way… if you see me runnin’, you best start doin’ the same, okay?" He put the scalpel down and took another deep breath, squeezing his hands into fists, once, twice before grabbing the lid and pulling it off. "Oh shit…" he said to himself. "Hey Allende, ALLENDE! C’MERE!" Allende came running. So did Reyes and Malford. "What is it?" Allende asked. Doggett stuck his hand into the shoebox and pulled out a VHS cassette tape. "Anybody gotta a VCR?" A little later… An undisclosed FBI safehouse Near the Los Angeles Field Office 12:35 PM Pacific Standard Time Agent Sara Mathers showed her ID and handed over her shopping bag to her fellow federal agents to search. "Thanks Sara," one of them said as they handed the bag back to her. Mathers nodded and continued walking until she got to the end of the hall. Then she tapped gently on the door. Dr. Sonia Fix opened the door. "Yes?" Mathers also noted that Dr. Fix was right. Rowan’s condition was worsening. Despite the oxygen tank next to the sofa Dr. Fix had made up as a bed for the girl, she gasped for air. Mathers took her little pale hand. It felt very cold. "I hurt everywhere," Rowan whimpered suddenly. Dr. Fix hovered over her. "There’s only so much I can do here," she snapped. "You keep her here, she will die." "Aplastic anemia," Dr. Fix announced. "The results came in this morning. Her bone marrow has been damaged by an outside source. Most likely chemotherapy or radiation treatment… possibly an infection, but more likely chemo or radiation." Dr. Fix nodded. "If she is a cancer patient or even a patient in remission, she needs hospitalization." Mathers looked down at the sick child on the bed again. "I’ll speak to Agents Allende and Doggett," Mathers finally relented. "I’ll be sure stress the severity of Rowan’s condition." She stood up and held out the shopping bag. "I bought some things for Rowan. Some clothes. Books. A game." ** Later… Outside of Scully’s apartment 3:30 PM Eastern Standard Time "The eensy weensy spider…" Margaret Scully sang to her grandson as she unbuckled him from his car seat. "Went up the water spout… down came the rain and washed the spider out…" "Hi," Bravo said as she got out of the car. William wailed. "Jerilyn!" Maggie beamed, walking towards her, trying to ignore William’s screams. "I am so happy to see you!" The women embraced. William grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. Hard. "OW!" Bravo yelped trying to loosen William’s grip on her hair. She resisted the urge to throw the little boy into on-coming traffic. "WILLIAM CHRISTOPHER, NO!" Maggie ordered William as she too tried to get William to release his death grip on Bravo’s hair. "I’m sorry!" Maggie said. "I don’t know what got into him!" "What brings you here?" William continued to scream as the women entered Scully’s apartment. "I think somebody needs a nap," Maggie said. "What do you think William?" "Yes, honey, that’s your aunt Jeri, now it’s nap time," Maggie crooned as she took off his little coat and shoes. "Sorry about this Jerilyn," Maggie said, carrying William to his bedroom. "I won’t take too long."
"William’s room?" she wondered aloud. Maggie came back out to find Bravo calmly looking through a magazine. William’s cries could still be heard through the closed doors. "He’s overtired," Maggie said apologetically.
"Let me try," Bravo offered, rising off the couch. "I’m not good with kids, but for some weird reason, me and Will connect. Plus… it’s been a while since I’ve seen him… I need some catch up time with my buddy." She shook her head. "You are too much like Fox, you know that? I’ve told both of you to call me Maggie." "Okay, okay… Maggie," Bravo smiled at her. "I’m going to check on William…" "Shut up, God," Bravo hissed at him, closing the door behind her. "I’m not after you. At least not this time." She did a quick look-through of William’s closet, checking for false walls, boxes that could contain files, trap doors. Nothing. She dug through William’s toy box and found nothing but Tonka trucks, teddy bears and Bob The Builder action figures. "Dammit," Bravo hissed as William continued to scream. "Shut up," she snapped at him. She looked at the dresser. The bottom drawer was open and it looked like William had been in it, pulling clothes out and Scully hadn’t had time to put the clothes back in. Then her face fell in disappointment. "Kid, shut the fuck up," she snarled at him, standing straight up. "I’m not here for YOU." William did not stop crying. Bravo stalked over to the boy’s crib. "Listen, if they wanted you dead, they would have gotten you before you were born so just shut the hel-" The mobile started to move. William’s crying dwindled to hiccoughs as he sat up in his bed, clutching his ‘boo bankie" and sucking his thumb. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as the mobile began to spin faster and faster. Bravo, for the first time in her life, felt a thrill of fear as she watched the mobile spin. "Oh my God…" she whispered. "Oh my God… it’s true… it’s true…" She shook head to toe as she backed away from the crib. She sought the door handle and opened it with a jerk. She closed the door softly behind her and wiped the sweat off her face. She took a deep breath and made herself walk to the kitchen. "Jerilyn, you clever girl, you got William to calm down, how did you mana-" Maggie started to say but then she noticed how pale her face was. "Jerilyn, you look like you saw a ghost. Are you alright?" "Should I call Dana?" Maggie went to the phone and dialed. "Scully." "I think… well, I’m probably meddling. But I would go check on Jerilyn before coming home tonight. I don’t mind watching William a bit longer." Scully found herself clutching the phone very tightly. "I’ll call Mulder," she said thickly. "I’ll have him go over to check on her. They had a fight today. This will give them a chance to make up." Maggie tut-tutted into the phone. "They should really stop wasting time with all this fighting." "Mulder." "Mulder, when are you leaving work today?" "So am I." "She stopped by my apartment this afternoon the same time Mom and William were coming home. She said that Jerilyn seemed fine, but then all of a sudden said she didn’t feel well and wanted to go home." When Mulder didn’t respond right away, she asked "Are you still there?" "Yeah…" "Mulder? What is it?" "This better be important." "Nothing important happened today," Mulder replied. In his office at CIA Headquarters, Agent Lux Carlos sat up in his chair. "I’ll be at the "National Air and Space Museum in an hour." He hung up the phone. ** Later… Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 2:15 Pacific Standard Time Agent Monica Reyes closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. As long as she was breathing, as long as she could focus, she could find Teri. Concentrate on the work, not the fear.
**No, please, don’t…** ***"Where do I put this fire?"*** **You prefer to be a martyr?**
***"This tiger lily down my mouth?"*** **"I know you."** "I know you…" Reyes whispered as Doggett and Allende walked into the room. "Monica?" Doggett said softly. She opened her eyes and looked up. "Yes?" Doggett cleared his throat. "He’s fucking with us Mon. That wasn’t blood. Looked like it, but wasn’t it." "What?" Reyes said flatly. "You have got to be kidding me." "Yes there was," Allende said, putting the tape into the VCR. "This is a duplicate. Our lab guys along with those two yahoos, Lyoness and Matthews, are checking the original out frame by frame to see if they can perhaps determine where the footage was shot." He pressed "Play." Monica could not control the tears that began to pour down her face when her little sister’s face appeared on the television screen. She was sitting in front of a heavy brown curtain. She looked a little worse for wear, her hair was messy, her lips and chin was bruised, but she was alive. And terrified. "Moni… the man who has me promises to release me if…" she gulped, blinking rapidly. She was obviously reading from cue cards. "You do exactly what he says… he… he… he said that it was three things. Three very easy things. Once completed… then I can be free…" her voice cracked. A voice coming behind the camera snapped at her, "No crying." "To quit the FBI," Teresa said hoarsely. "Two days from now, you are to go to the La Brea Tar Pits. You are to go alone. Agent Doggett and the rest of the FBI are to remain behind… or else…" she trembled for a minute. "Or… else they’ll kill me that day and… m-m-mail me to you in l-l-little pieces." Teresa dissolved into tears again. "No crying," the voice behind the camera ordered again. Teresa, her lovely face white with fear struggled to compose herself. "Be at the Tar Pits by one o’clock. Someone will approach you and ask if they had met you at the Statue of Liberty. You will give him the certified letter of your resignation, signed by your superior and your superior’s superior. Then your contact will give you the second demand." The tape suddenly cut off. Reyes was weeping. Allende put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We will get your sister back. We are working on fake documents right now. Your supervisor, AD Skinner has agreed to go along with the charade." "We will be tailing you. We will want to wire you. Meanwhile, we’ve been given time to hunt down Teresa Reyes’ location. You must believe we will find Teresa. I promise you that I will do everything I can to find her." Allende nodded. "I’ll be in my office." He left. Doggett dug in his pocket for a Kleenex. "Here," he said, pressing the tissue in her hand. "Thanks," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I’m sorry…" "I can talk to ‘em if you want me too," Doggett said gently. "Tell ‘em what’s going on." Reyes nodded. "I’m going to go back to the hotel now."
"Call if you need anything." Doggett reached out and squeezed her shoulder affectionately and tried to smile for her before leaving to find Allende.
An hour later… National Air and Space Museum, Smithonian Institution 7th And Independence Drive, Washington DC Mulder wandered around, looking at the exhibits glorifying man’s adventures in space. "Sir, are you lost?" "No, I’m-" Mulder started to say as he turned around. "I’m just waiting for someone," he said, grinning at Lux Carlos who was dressed in the grab of a tour guide. "Fortunately sir, you get a private showing," Carlos said as he fell in step with Mulder, pretending to point out exhibits and explaining their historical significance. "Any word on the Senator?" "We have another to add to our list of suspects." "Surprise," Carlos rolled his eyes. "So who did you piss off?" "Well, first of all, the whole quitting the X-Files issue. She made several good points, points I agree with. However, it sounded like a well-rehearsed speech." "Okay, I can go with that." Carlos nodded. "What else?" "Also, I received a disturbing phone call from Scully." Mulder shook his head. "No. I asked her about her experiences today. Very text book. The last thing she remembers is getting onto the plane bound for Russia. She did say she had a nightmare last night. She said she recalled bright lights and pounding noises but couldn’t remember it very well. It had faded from her consciousness when she woke up," Mulder’s voice trailed off. "Are you thinking hypnosis?" "What do we do if her mind’s been altered?" The men looked at each other. Carlos’ eyes were sad. "We’ll deal with that when we get to it, brother." A little later John Doggett’s house Falls Church, Virginia "Round two," Bravo muttered to herself, letting herself into Doggett’s house. This time she was armed with kitty treats. A can of soft Nine Lives cat food, a can of grocery-store-brand tuna and a small bag of Pounce! Kitty treats. "Here kitty kitty kitty…" she sang out. "Come here kitty… meow meow… meow meow… Jesus I feel stupid," she muttered as she walked into the kitchen. First she opened the can of tuna and set it on the floor. "Kitty kitty kitty!! Here kitty kitty…" Bravo leaned against the kitchen sink and waited impatiently. "Dammit," she muttered, stooping down, picking up the tuna can and started to walk through the house. "Kitty… kit-teeeeeeeeeeeee, where are you?" She canvassed the house twice before she finally spotted Caesar sprawled out on top of a very tall bookcase. "How in the hell did you get up there?" Bravo bitched. "Never mind. Come down." "Look, let’s start over," Bravo held up the can of tuna. "See, I’m nice, I brought food for you." Caesar yawned and closed his eyes. "Goddammit cat, get down!" Bravo flung the can down. The tuna fell out of it with a splat onto Doggett’s hardwood floor. "You can NOT be here when he gets back!!!" Bravo stalked over to the bookshelf and started to scale it. The shelf groaned with her weight added to it, but Bravo ignored the sound as she firmly planted her feet on the second shelf and reached up for Caesar with her left hand as her right hand clung to the side. "Come here!!!" Caesar swiped at her already mutilated hand and leapt down from the shelf. Bravo twisted around to try and grab the flying cat but just then, the shelf began to totter. "Oh shit!" Bravo lost her footing and fell on her ass. She curled up in the fetal position and shielded her face as the bookshelf fell on top of her.
"Ow." Somehow, Bravo managed to crawl out from underneath the shelf and books. Her nose and lip were bleeding profusely. "Fucking cat!" she spat as she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Caesar emerged from his hiding place and surveyed the damage. Pleased with himself, he sought out the tuna he had smelled earlier. The pile of tuna had not been crushed by the falling books and shelf and the oil was making a nice stain in the wood floor. Caesar crouched down and began to feast. Score: Cat, two. Assassin, zero. ** A little later… Special Agent Santiago Allende’s office Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California "Smile though your heart is aching… smile even though it’s breaking When they are clouds in the sky…" Doggett thought he was hearing things. It took him a minute to recognize Nat King Cole’s voice. He tapped on the glass window of the door. "It’s me, Allende." Doggett entered a very small yet very neat office. Allende was on the phone, taking notes, but he beckoned Doggett to sit in the very uncomfortable looking chair. Doggett shook his head, shut the door and leaned against it, looking around the tiny room.
No diplomas or commendations hung on the walls. But there was a window, letting in the warm California sun and a framed abstract painting what appeared to be to Doggett nothing but a bunch of paint splatters. But the colors were pretty and did not match the somber gray walls or yellowing linoleum floors. The file cabinets and Allende’s desk took much of the space in the office. But there was a happy little Christmas cactus and an aloe vera plant on top of one of the file cabinets and another one on Allende’s desk. Next to the Christmas cactus on top of the file cabinet were a stack of CDs and a very small CD player. Doggett started nosing around. More Nat King Cole, some Sinatra, one Bing Crosby, a couple Ella Fitzgerald and, in deference to the Twenty-First Century, Harry Connick Junior. "Thank you," Allende said, hanging up the phone. "I’m sorry," he apologized to Doggett. "You can turn the CD player off if you want to." "Much to the mixed dismay and amusement of my grandfather, my grandmother devoured American culture the minute my father’s family moved here from Chile. Especially the music. When I would visit her, she’d have it set to an oldies station when she was cooking and whenever they’d start playing the big band stuff, she’d say "Ah, Santiago, now THIS is America," and she’d try and teach me to swing dance. Then dinner would burn because she forgot about it. She was quite the lady." "Good thing I didn’t use any pronouns in my email," Allende said blandly, although a slight flush crossed his cheeks. "For a copy of this case file." Doggett nodded. "I don’t necessarily believe the alien sci-fi bullshit m’self." "Anyway," Allende went on, "We’ve all heard about Spooky Mulder, including his rise from the dead. However weird we may think he is… and slightly creepy… he is a very intelligent man. Some of his profiles and 302s on cases he worked on when he was still in VICAP were mandatory curriculum for several of my classes at the Academy. He says and thinks up of wild theories but he can almost always back them up. And he’s almost always right." "So?" Doggett almost smiled himself. "Yeah… probably." "Hope you don’t mind it straight and warm," he said. "Hell," Doggett said, accepting a mug from Allende. "I’d drink boiling gasoline right now." Allende took another drink and said to him. "I’m going to lay it on the line, Doggett. What Agent Scully sent me, scares me to death. Because if it’s true, that means we have no weapons to fight this man. And even if we could incapacitate him enough to bring him in, we don’t have a cell strong enough to keep him in." "And if we do manage to hold him until we get him to trial, how in the hell do we get a conviction? We’re giving the DA’s office a fairy tale for evidence." "Do you think it’s possible to send a copy of that video to my office in DC?" "Sure, but why?" A smile tugged at Doggett’s lips. "Dollars to doughnuts, their kung-fu can beat Lyoness and Matthews." "Alright," Allende made a note to himself. "I’ll tell Lyoness to FedEx a copy to your office tonight. Now… we got sidetracked a little." "Rowan." "And?" "We put her in a hospital, she’s a sitting duck for Rohrer," Doggett said. Doggett rubbed his face. "Jesus." "I know… from the frying pan…" "And I believe that it is an act of great cruelty if we deny her treatment." "So basically we’re fucked no matter which way we choose." "Keep her hidden, at least for a few more days. A few days can’t hurt. Then, under a different name and with federal protection, have her airlifted to a hospital far away from here. Maybe the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Or Bethesda in Maryland. Just don’t keep her in California. Not with Rohrer still running loose." "I’ll call you and Reyes if anything else develops." ** Later on… The Lone Gunmen’s Lair Tacoma Falls "What do you MEAN you can’t????" Mulder fumed. Byers sighed, arms laden down with several keyboards, headsets and various coaxial cables. "Mulder, we’d do anything for you, you know that. This… this is just a bad time for us. We’re very busy. Very very busy, now excuse me… please, excuse me, Mulder…" Byers tried to go around Mulder, but Mulder refused to move. "Byers, dammit, this is important." "Frohike," Byers turned his head, looking at the funny little man with big glasses and fingerless gloves. "Help." Frohike didn’t even look up from his computer monitor. He appeared to be working on some sort of Excel spreadsheet. "Mulder, we said no," he said curtly. "This is a standard surveillance," Mulder yelled at him. "Something that Langly would call a cakewalk. I just need a few bugs in Starkweather’s apartment. Scully and I can easily keep Starkweather busy while you’re doing the job." "No," Frohike snapped. "Now go away." "What the hell is so damned important that you can’t help me this one time!" Mulder pushed past Byers, causing Byers to drop all the equipment he was carrying. "Dammit, you made me rip my tie!" Byers wailed. "Answer me," Mulder hovered over Frohike as Frohike double clicked the mouse, bring up his screen saver. "I gave you an answer," Frohike said. "No. Now go home to the tasty little woman and leave us alone." "Marvin, I’m getting ready to hit you." "Plus I sold off my old digital camera and a coupla Disney movies I don’t watch anymore to a pawn shop in Alexandria so that brought in-" Langly finally turned around. "Oh," he gulped, seeing Mulder standing there in a gray three piece suit with a sharply starched lighter gray dress shirt and one of his characterically wild ties. "Hi Mulder. Nice tie." Byers groaned and went to pick up his mess. Frohike slapped his hand to his forehead. "It’s not that you guys don’t want to help me," Mulder droned, mollified. "It’s because you can’t help me." "Guys, we should probably tell ‘em," Langly muttered. "Tell me what?" Mulder asked suspiciously. Frohike turned his back and continued to work on his spread sheet. Byers stood up, put the equipment on a work bench and said in a constricted voice. "Yves is gone." "Our own government," Byers replied. "It’s a long story," Langly muttered. "Jimmy has already gone after her," Byers explained. "And we’re trying to raise as much money as we can to find her." "Why would they take Yves?" Mulder asked. "We don’t know," Byers said. "But we have to find her." "I’ve been trying to figure out," Frohike turned around, gesturing to his Excel spread sheet. "How much money we’ll need. Versus how much we got." "I’ll help," Mulder said. "I can get Scully or Doggett to open an X-File and I’ll talk to my contact at the CIA. We’ll get her back." "But if it is our government that took her, having an X-File opened on her or CIA poking around is like painting a big bull’s eyes on her forehead. It’s safer for her if nobody knows somebody’s looking for her," Frohike said. "You can’t say no," Mulder said. "They owe me at least two thousand dollars." "We ain’t gonna take bread outta William and Scully’s mouths," Langly crossed his arms, glaring at Mulder. "Mulder," Frohike said. "This is our fight. You’ve got yours. We’ve got ours." "Then let me start paying you when you help me out. Or set it up in the FBI that you guys get consultation fees too." Mulder opened his mouth, then shut it again. "I’m sorry," he finally said. "Guys… I’m really sorry." "We know you understand how we feel… with Samantha and Starkweather and all…" Byers said lamely. "Yeah," Langly echoed impotently. "If there’s anything I can do," Mulder started to say. "We’ll call," Frohike assured him. "Until then, Mulder… please, stay out of this." "We’ll try to get to Starkweather’s as soon as we can," Frohike relented. "But it won’t be today or tomorrow. But we will take care of it." ** Later… Comfort Inn 1710 West 7th Street Los Angeles, CA 90017 There was a gentle tapping on her door. Reyes didn’t move from her bed. "Who is it?" "Es su madre," came the soft yet strong voice from the other side of the door. "Viniendo, Mami," Reyes said, rolling off of the bed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, decided she didn’t like what she saw, but was too tired and sad to do anything about it. She opened the door. "Hi Mom." But she never gave up mothering her adult children. "You need to eat something," she scolded Monica, holding up a room service tray." "Oh Mom…" Blinking back tears, Reyes obeyed as her mother took the cover off the tray. Two hamburgers, two sides of salad and two sides of fries greeted them. Raquel took the plates off her tray, setting the food in front of Reyes and then at the place she planned to sit at. "¿Cómo es Papa?" Reyes asked nervously, nibbling at a fry. Raquel, despite her admonishments to her daughter, only played with her salad. "Preocupado. Triste. Asustado." After a beat, Raquel admitted, "Siento esa manera también." "Mami, we’re doing all we can," she said helplessly. "I know, querida, I know," Raquel soothed her. "It’s not your fault." "No entiendo, Monica." "¿Debo hablar en español?" Raquel waved her hand. "I understand the language, Moni. I don’t understand WHAT you are talking about." "Why? Afraid they’re going to take me like they did Teresa?" Raquel reached for her daughter’s hand. "Oh mi pequeñita," she crooned. "I love you and your father loves you," Reyes broke down in tears but Raquel did not stop talking. "I would give the entire world to bring Teri home right now," her eyes misted over. "You and I both know that there are some things about your job you must keep in confidence and I respect that. However if your knowledge endangers those you love, you must share that information or as much information as possible, in order to protect them." Reyes grabbed a napkin and mopped her eyes. "You’ll think I’m crazy." Her mother shrugged. "A little craziness keeps this world interesting. And honest." So, while holding her mother’s hand, Reyes told her as much as she could of the X-Files, the Syndicate and Starkweather. She did not give names or places. Or mention extraterrestrials. She did tell her about Scully’s disappearance and her battle with cancer. She told her about the strange family tree that Mulder, Starkweather and William made up and how William was perceived a threat to a delicate balance between peace and war. She told her about Mulder’s disappearance. She told her about the unusual circumstances the boy was conceived, or as much as she could without mentioning aliens, and of his birth, again not mentioning replicants. She told her about Starkweather’s bizarre childhood. She told her about the Eden Project. She told her about Doggett and Starkweather’s disappearances. And Starkweather’s disappearance. And her strange reappearance. And her suspicions. Raquel stayed quiet while Reyes spoke. When Reyes took a deep breath and said no more, Raquel took this to be her cue that her daughter had finished. "And your friends… do they remember anything?" "Scully said that she has dreams about it, but can’t remember the dreams. Mulder remembers a lot, up until where he passes out from the pain. John… John says he doesn’t remember." "What if I’m wrong?" ** Later… Jerilyn Starkweather’s apartment Arlington, Virginia "Oh Christ," Bravo groaned when she heard a knock on her door. She had been lying peacefully on Starkweather’s couch with an icepack on her face. The bleeding had stopped but her face felt swollen. Taking the icepack off her face, she yelled, "Who is it?" She quickly closed her valise filled with knives and shoved it underneath the couch. The briefcase full of guns was already stowed away in Starkweather’s bedroom. Bravo tousled her hair to make it look like she just pulled a shirt over her head. She got off the couch and went to the front door. Bravo batted his hand away. "It looks worse that what it really is." "She said her mother called. That you weren’t feeling well." "I just wanted to be sure," Mulder said, "that you were okay." "I am okay, just… just tired. Very tired." Mulder sat down on her couch. Leaning forward, hands together, he said quietly, "Would you feel better if you could remember? Would that help you figure out up from down?" She shrugged. "I don’t know." Mulder took a deep breath. "Jerilyn… what about hypnosis?" "Before you demonstrate your fluency in vulgar obscenities, hear me out little sister." Bravo scowled. Why won’t this guy just give it up? "You have five minutes before I throw your ugly ass out. I’m tired and want to go to bed." "Starting when?" "You are trying to create buffers, Jerilyn. Shields. Created with your snide remarks and catty attitude. With your bitchy attitude, you’re trying to protect the nicer side of your nature from the horrors you just recently experiences. Experiences you claim you don’t remember, but they linger. In your sub-conscious, waiting for sleep to rob you of dreams." "Jerilyn, that’s what I’m afraid of the most. That your self-defense mechanisms will overwhelm what is good and decent about you. I don’t give a damn about your reputation; it’s your character I’m concerned about. "You will not be able to repress this forever. In time, the memories will come. And without your heart, you will not be able to fight them. You will not be able to bear them. If you allow yourself to become bitter, you will be as brittle as an eggshell. You’ll crack." "Egg shells are stronger than they appear," Bravo told him. "After all, it’s the shell that protects the chick." "What’s the difference?" "A broken heart can be pieced together again. Obliteration, all you have is dust." "Mulder, if you’re trying to break into the world of poetry, I strongly recommend you keep your day job." "Then why do it?" Bravo asked him. "Someone has to." <<You’re right>> Bravo thought as she stared at Mulder, pretending to be contemplating his words. <<The answers are within Jerilyn Starkweather. Too damn bad you’ll never find her.>> "Mulder…" she said in a fretful voice. "Hypnosis though… it is such an imprecise therapy. It could do more damage than good. How do I know I won’t be lead astray? Have false memories planted inside my head?" Bravo mulled that over. "Where though?" she added a tremor to her voice. "I don’t want to go to a hospital." Bravo shrugged, playing up the act of discomfort. "I don’t know… I just… I’ve just had enough of hospitals. Okay?" "We could pull some strings and have someone make a house call," Mulder said. "They can come here, or maybe Scully’s." Bravo stood up suddenly. "I want to think about it. Okay? Just let me think about it. I don’t want to say yes or no right away, okay? I’m very tired. I want to go to sleep." "Call if-" After Mulder left, Bravo locked the door and rested her forehead against the door. "God…" She turned off the lights and walked into the hideously airless room, which the real Jerilyn Starkweather made into her bedroom. There was no bed, only a futon. When she moved from the large two-bedroom apartment she had shared with her husband in Washington to the converted attic apartment in Arlington, she had sold her bedroom set. It had been a wedding gift from Ben’s parents. It just didn’t feel right to Starkweather to keep it. After all, if Ben hadn’t been killed, they were to be divorced. Underneath the futon, Bravo had not only hidden her slender valise of guns, but a Dell laptop. She pulled it out and connected it to a phone line before booting it up. After typing in the access codes, she clicked on Internet Explorer. "Jesus, hurry up," she bitched at the slow Internet connection. Finally she was online and was able to go into her email. "About time." In the darkness, she began to type. The glow from the computer screen distorted her face, making her appear demonic. Especially when she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on the message she was composing. Appearances aren’t always deceptive. After she completed her email and sent it away, she pulled out one of the secured cell phones from under her bed as well. She hit the number two button and said "I need a mugging and a robbery in forty-eight hours. Instructions have been sent." She then pulled out her Glock and, using the gun’s butt, smashed the cell into bits and pieces. She scooped up the pieces and carried them to the bathroom. She dropped the pieces into the toilet and flushed. Re-entering the bedroom, she picked up the Glock off the floor again. Cradling it, she curled up onto the futon and closed her eyes. Then re-opened them. <<What did Mulder mean today at the brew pub… that the man he thought was his father was killed… I thought Bill Mulder was Mulder and Starkweather’s father…>> That rumor about the Cancer Man being Mulder’s father was not true. It couldn’t be true. It was too ridiculous to be true. Too "Luke I am your father" to be true. "It’s not true," Bravo said aloud, but, thinking about little William and remembering how his mobile spun, made her shiver. Bravo, the assassin without morals or fear, was trembling. "Oh God," she moaned, curling up into the fetal position. "Please let them let me kill that kid." She also devoutly hoped that they would just kill Starkweather as well. And Mulder. And Scully. And Reyes and Doggett and A.D. Skinner. Gibson Praise and Blade Connor. Jeremiah Smith and that bitch Alpha. Krycek. Marita and Felitza Covarubias. Sharon Kuhn and Justin Leo. Lux Carlos and Knowles Rohrer. And Jeffrey Spender. All of them. Just get rid of all of them. Then burn that office to the ground. Bravo lay awake all night, clutching her gun. ** Two days later May 1, 2002 La Brea Tar Pits 12:45 PM Pacific Time Reyes wandered around the park, wired and armed. And scared to death. She didn’t know who she was looking for, or where to even be. All she knew was she had to be at the La Brea Tar Pits by one o’clock. She had been at the park since nine in the morning. Agents, both federal and CIA had been canvassing the park ever since Rohrer left Reyes the cryptic videotape. Reyes wished again she had been able to tell Doggett her suspicions about Starkweather but he had been kept occupied by the Los Angeles Branch Office. Not only was there the situation with Teresa Reyes to handle, but also of little Rowan Falsch. So far, there were no hits on the Missing Children Network for her. And her condition was deteriorating rapidly. She was barely eating now. Dr. Fix was screaming for someone’s head, preferably Doggett, since it was his call that kept Rowan hidden and out of the hospital. Doggett and Allende tried to explain to the doctor the importance of keeping Rowan secured but she didn’t understand. She only saw a sick child being denied treatment. She had started making noises about going to the press about what was happening to the girl. Reyes, meanwhile, when she wasn’t with her parents or fielding phone calls from her brother and other sister, was trying to provide as much information as possible to all the law enforcement agencies that where assisting in the search for Teresa Reyes. Whenever Reyes would start telling them about Knowles Rohrer, most of them looked at her like she was insane. Only the contact person from the CIA, a man Lux Carlos sent, took her seriously. And when she wasn’t talking to everyone, she was preparing for her meeting with the contact who would take her false resignation. Naturally undercover cops and federal agents would be combing the park. Reyes was to be wired and armed. Skinner faxed the false termination papers to the LA Field Office. Reyes did not know if Kersh was aware of this action and did not ask. She just prayed that some clue would be provided where Teri was being held. So far, there was nothing. The searches in Anaheim and all the small communities surrounding the Sequoia National Forest were coming up with nothing. Reyes leaned against a railing and stared at the gooey, burbling pit that had absorbed dinosaurs and mastodons. Allende and Doggett were in a surveillance vehicle, disguised as a park maintenance vehicle. Doggett was Reyes’ eyes and ears as Allende continued to work with the computers while listening to police scanners, hoping to catch a squawk on Rohrer. Allende’s partner, Malford, was also watching the monitors on the van’s walls, but he was dressed as a park maintenance man. He was prepared to go out into the park if necessary. He was also communicating with the other agents, directing him where to go if he detected suspicious activity. "Jesus, it’s hot," Doggett griped, loosening his tie. He had already shed his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves a little while ago. Allende never bothered with a suit jacket but he had undone his tie long ago. Looking at the several television screens in the van, all connected to the park’s security system, watching Reyes mill around the park, he asked Allende "Anything on the radio?" Allende, pushing his ear piece into his ear deeper shook his head. "That better not be a Dodgers game you’re listenin’ to," Doggett joked with him, trying to cover up his nervousness. He didn’t like Reyes out there, on her own. Malford snorted. "He’s not a baseball man," he said disdainfully Doggett looked up at the monitors again. "Shit…" "What is it?"
"She’s comin’ closer," Doggett told her as Agent Malford began instructing the undercover agents to focus on the sector Reyes was in. "Agents Mathers and Benchly got your back. And we’re right here, Monica. Sit tight." "Okay," Reyes said again, reaching into her shirt pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Nervously, she lit up. "Excuse me, miss?" a soft, cultured voice said. "I don’t mean to be presumptuous. But I believe we’ve met before… at the Statue of Liberty?" Reyes swallowed. She recognized the voice. Turning around slowly, she said lowly "What are you doing Senator?" "Did Agent Reyes just call her ‘Senator’? As in US Senator?" Malford demanded. "Not just any US Senator," Doggett said. "Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey for the state of Arizona." "She was reported missing…" Allende said slowly. "… the day after Teresa Reyes disappeared." Doggett said grimly. "And the bitch has betrayed us before." "Liar," Reyes told her in a quiet voice. "You sold out your stepdaughter, Jerilyn. Why should we trust you?" The Senator opened her purse. There was nothing in there except for another VHS tape. "Take the tape, put your letter inside and hurry," she begged her. "All I have to do," Reyes said, "is to give the word and thirty federal agents will be on your ass." "Oh God," Reyes breathed out loud. "She’s wearing a bomb." Underneath her jacket, the Senator was wearing a vest made up almost entirely of C-4 explosives. "The man who has your sister said to tell you that one wrong move and he’ll detonate this thing…" Reyes felt her fingers burning. She realized that she had let her cigarette smolder to the filter. She dropped the cigarette and ground it out. She pulled the false letter out of her pocket and bent down for the handbag. In a single motion, she threw the letter inside and took the video out. Standing up, she held the handbag out. The Senator accepted the bag. "I’m sorry," she said, clutching the bag to her. "I’m sorry… I…" she turned away, buttoning up her coat again and walking away. Casually, Agent Benchly, who had been posing as a janitor, started to follow the Senator. Malford kicked the wall of the van and swore loudly. Allende slumped to his seat, looking defeated. Doggett ripped his headset off of his head and threw it down. "I’m gonna go check on Reyes," he said needlessly and left the van. Reyes was sitting down on the park bench, head buried in her hands, handbag next to her. Doggett jogged up to her. "Monica…" Doggett turned too late to see Knowles Rohrer standing behind him. Tourists started to scream and run as Doggett pulled out his gun but Rohrer knocked it out of his hands and grabbed him by his throat. Lifting him high in the air, Rohrer carried Doggett towards the tar pits. "NO!!!!" Reyes cried out again. "Rohrer, don’t!" Rohrer lifted Doggett over the railing, dangling him over the tar pit. Doggett clung to Rohrer’s wrist with both hands as he held him over the boiling tar. "Got any feathers, Agent Reyes?" Rohrer asked. Fifteen federal agents, including Allende, Mathers and Malford, ten CIA agents and one park security guard suddenly materialized, all pointing their guns at Rohrer. "All of you," Rohrer yelled. "Drop your weapons. Or I drop him." He lowered Doggett slowly until the soles of his shoes were skimming the tar. Doggett, utterly helpless, clutched at Rohrer’s wrist, but felt lightheaded from the lack of air. Rohrer squeezed his throat just a little more and he gagged, instinctively trying to pry Rohrer’s fingers off of his throat so he could breath. Reyes pointed her gun away from Rohrer and safetied it. "Do it!" she yelled. "He’s not bluffing, he’ll drop him!" "Dammit," Allende also safetied his weapon. "Do it!" The rest followed suit and threw their weapons to the ground. "Bring him over the railing and let him go," Reyes said forcefully, walking towards him. "I did what you asked me. I quit the FBI. I surrendered my gun and shield. The gun I had is privately owned. I did what you asked me." Reyes looked at Doggett. His eyes were rolling in the back of his head as his face was starting to change colors due to lack of oxygen. "They wouldn’t let me be alone," she told him. "They didn’t trust me. They have no reason to trust me; you of all people know that. Please don’t hurt my friend… please please don’t hurt my sister," she begged. Rohrer smiled cruelly at her. "I won’t hurt your sister this time," he promised her. "And I won’t hurt your… friend… this time either." He turned slightly and grabbed the back of Doggett’s shirt with his other hand, then turned to face the agents and Reyes again, using Doggett as a human shield. Not that he necessarily needed it. He just didn’t want all his abilities exposed in broad daylight. As he walked through the crowd of agents, he yelled, "But I will be teaching you an object lesson, Agent Reyes. Someone WILL die tonight. And… the next time you don’t follow my instructions to the letter, your sister will die," he laughed at her as he walked away from them backwards. When he felt he was far enough away from them, he lifted Doggett up a little, then hoisted him in the air. As Doggett flew through the air and crashed on a park bench, Rohrer fled the scene. Reyes and Allende ran to Doggett’s aid as the other agents pursued Rohrer. Doggett had landed hard on the seat of the bench, then rolled off onto the grass. He lay very still. A trickle of blood dripped from his mouth. "John!! No, no, no, oh God…" Reyes cried as she knelt beside him. Allende also knelt down by him as he pulled out his cell phone and called 9-11. "We have a federal agent down, repeat, we have a federal agent down, possible head trauma," Allende said as Reyes shook at Doggett, yelling at him to move, do something. Allende repeated the 9-11 dispatch’s instructions to her and Reyes worked fast to stabilize Doggett’s head and neck to the best of her ability. "John, please," Reyes whispered in his ear. "Get up, get up. We have to find Teri." In an even softer voice, she said while grasping his hand tightly, "We have to find Jerilyn."
** Later… The X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC 5:25 PM Eastern Standard Time Mulder tapped on the doorframe. "Scully, it’s me." When Scully looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, Mulder asked softly "What happened?" Scully folded her hands and looked at her desk as Mulder walked into the office, stopping at his desk. "Has Carlos been in contact with you yet?" "No. Why? What is going on?" "Oh shit," Mulder ran his hand over his face. "Which files did she have?" Mulder rested his hand absently on his old desk. Lifted his hand up and rubbed his fingers together, feeling the dust. Slowly he walked towards Scully. "I’m not going to lie Scully. I’m not happy about those files disappearing. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. And the important files we have are well hidden. You didn’t tell Jerilyn where those are, did you?" Mulder nodded as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of Scully’s desk. "Where is Jerilyn now?" "Severe concussion. He re-injured the same ribs he hurt last winter when he and Jerilyn went to South Dakota to investigate the site of the Eden Project. But the doctors are concerned about the bruising around the larynx and trachea. They are keeping him overnight for observation." Mulder closed his eyes. "I’ll have to tell Jerilyn about that as well. Any word on the Senator?" "Has the LA Branch Office viewed the second video tape?" "Yes," Scully said tightly. "And?" ** Later that night… The Holiday Inn Washington DC
Bravo was resting quietly when the knock came on the door. "Who is it?" she called out. "It’s me." She artfully tore her blouse and jacket, made sure her nose was bleeding and then ran crying to the police. While the police was busy taking her statement, Leo had gone to Starkweather’s apartment and trashed it. She strongly suspected the Mini-Rat-Boy stole a momento or two for despite everything that happened last winter, Justin Leo believed strongly that Starkweather was Lilly Stratford, his long lost love. Not that Bravo cared too deeply. "Coming," she called out to Mulder as she slid off the bed and turned off the television set. Grabbing a small Beretta from off the nightstand, she went over to the door. She unlocked the door, but did not undo the chain lock. Peeping through the crack of the door, she saw Mulder standing there. "Are you alone?" Bravo shut the door again, undid the chain lock and then threw the door open. "Oh my God, Jerilyn," Mulder moaned as he shut the door behind him. "It’s not as bad as it looks," Bravo muttered as she sat down on the bed. "Really. My pride is hurt more than anything else." When Mulder opened his mouth, she cut him off. "Mulder, I was being fucking stupid, alright? I knew better than to take those files out of the office. I made Scully give them to me. She wanted to make photocopies but I talked her out of it. Now they’re gone and God only knows what else. Somebody came and tossed my house too." "I know… Scully told me." "There’s something else," Bravo swiveled her head up to look at him. "I can tell. In your voice. Something’s wrong." She got up to put the gun back on the night stand and then sat down again. She gave up her freedom and quite possibly her life for the sun, the moon and the stars. "What happened?" Bravo’s voice quavered realistically. Mulder sat down on the bed and quietly told her what Scully told him about what happened at the La Brea Tar Pits. One of the acting abilities Bravo prided herself on was her talent for crying on command. Blinking her eyes rapidly after Mulder finished his story, she whispered, "But he’s alright, right? You said he was alright." Mulder gathered her into his arms, rocking her back and forth. "I swear Jerilyn, somehow, I will stop this. As long as there’s hope, I’ll do what I can to stop this." "Probably not, but… one person just can’t stand by and do nothing either." ** Cedars-Sinai Hospital Los Angeles, California 8:45 PM Pacific Time Doggett opened his eyes. Saw Reyes sitting in a chair next to his bed. "You shouldn’t be here," he rasped out. Reyes jumped at the sound of his voice. "You’re not supposed to be talking," she admonished him. "You’re supposed to be resting." Doggett looked around himself. "Funny, I’m the one lyin’ down." He rubbed his throat. "Is there any water here?" "I didn’t mean for you to wait on me, Monica." Doggett sipped the water, wincing as he swallowed. "I’m sorry things got fucked up today." "Your phone was tapped??" Doggett raised his head again. "Where? The hotel?" His voice sounded so concerned and slightly hurt that she confided him someone else instead of him almost made Reyes chicken out. To not tell him her suspicions. Almost. "Because… um, John, you’re not going to want to hear this. But, I think if I would have spoken up long before this, none of this would be happening right now." Doggett rolled his head away and looked up at the ceiling. "You’re right Monica. I don’t wanna hear this."
"There’s no such thing as a clone," he said obstinately. "We have cloned sheep and cattle. We saw cloned dinosaurs on La Luna Blanca. How can you say there are no clones." Reyes rubbed her temples. "This is way I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to argue." "You can believe," Reyes countered. "You just don’t want to. You’ve never wanted to. You’ve never wanted to believe that there might be something extraordinary about Starkweather." "’Cause that’s what she wants," Doggett tried to yell but his throat hurt too badly. He cleared it and then spoke in a hoarse whisper. "She doesn’t wanna be extraordinary. She just wants to be ordinary. So I treat her that way. Like she’s nothin’ more than a normal girl. Listen to me, I was there. That god-awful lab in South Dakota. And I didn’t wanna believe what I saw. But I couldn’t deny what I saw. "I know there’s more to Jerilyn than meets the eye. I know those bastards did terrible things to her and her mother. I don’t know what may or may not have been put into her to make her the way she is. "I don’t know what she is. But I know who she is. And I know Monica, that it’s really Starkweather back home." "You haven’t spent any time with her." "And yet, you knew by a touch it wasn’t her." "I felt that it wasn’t her but I wasn’t sure, so I called my friend in New Orleans! I thought I was losing my mind, so we talked about it. On a tapped phone wire. The next day, my sister is kidnapped by Rohrer." "It’s enough for me," Reyes said feverishly. "Monica," Doggett said wearily, sympathetically. "Go home." "No. Not with Rohrer on the prowl. I’m not leaving you." "You’re burnin’ out," Doggett tried to be gentle. "It’s getting to you and you’re leapin’ to conclusions." "What if I make a Mulder-leap," Reyes said. "Oh Christ." "I say, pack a parachute, ‘cause you’re gonna crash and burn on this one." She stalked out of his hospital room. She slumped in one of the chairs outside of Doggett’s room. Even though she was extremely angered by Doggett’s skepticism, she had no intention of leaving him alone in the hospital with a federal agent she didn’t know. Angrily, she crossed her arms as her leg jiggled. She was craving a cigarette but felt she could not leave. "Agent Reyes?" "I’m on night patrol." Allende sat down beside her. "What are you doing here?" "I’ve been in communications with Agent Scully and AD Skinner back in Washington," Allende said, getting up, jingling change in his pocket. He walked over towards a Coke machine. "Want anything?" When Reyes shook her head, he put his coins in the machine and punched the Diet Coke button. "All out. Dammit. Well, guess I’ll have to have unleaded." He hit the Coke button and a shiny red can tumbled out of the machine. He returned to sit besides Reyes. "They have agreed to create the illusion of shutting down the X-Files. Skinner is preparing a false statement to go out to the press. An uninteresting blurb. Probably will get buried in the middle somewhere. Won’t even make the news. Hopefully, that will placate them so we can continue searching for Teresa." "It’s my job, Agent Reyes." Reyes smiled. "You can call me Monica. If you like." Reyes nodded, brushing her dark brown hair out of her face. "Thank you," she whispered again. Awkwardly, she got up. "I… um, need to step out for a minute, but I’ll be back." "Where are you going?" "Those things will kill you," Allende told her. "I’ve been trying to quit," Reyes said apologetically as she backed away. Outside, she leaned against the wall. She pulled out the pack and lighter she still had in her shirt pocket, but she dropped the lighter. "Oh dammit," she muttered as she knelt down to pick it up. A man walked past her just then. Reyes didn’t notice him until she stood up. The glass door shut behind him. Reyes dropped her cigarette and lighter again when she saw a bumpy almost reptilian looking ridge in the back of his neck. "Hey!!" Reyes yelled. "You there! Stop!" She pulled her gun and ran back inside the hospital as the man got into the elevator. The elevator doors were closing as the man turned around. Reyes continued to run towards him. "Stop right there!" He smiled at her. Reyes caught a good look at his face as the doors slammed shut. "Billy," she gasped as she wheeled around, looking for a stairwell. "Oh my God Billy Miles." Reyes bolted up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the floor Doggett was on. Red-faced, gun out, she ran towards Allende. A nurse, seeing her gun screamed then fainted. "Monica, what the hell?" Allende demanded when he noticed the chaos she was causing. "Billy… Miles… here," she panted. "Who??" Agent Mathers picked up her walkie talkie. "Copy, Allende. What’s going on, boss?" "What’n the hell’s goin’ on?" Doggett demanded. "John, Billy Miles is here, I saw him," Reyes said urgently. "We need to get you out of here." Doggett allowed himself to be hoisted out of bed and into the wheelchair. "We’re takin’ you to a different hospital," Reyes told him. "I’ll see you there." Allende sent the other federal agent with the nurses and the security guards to make sure Doggett was put into the ambulance safely. All the while, Doggett was bitching "Somebody better tell me what’s goin’ on, dammit." Meanwhile, Allende’s walkie talkie squawked. "Allende, it’s Mathers, over." "I need help. The nurse will not allow for Sealy to be moved. She’s saying that his injuries are too extensive, that if he’s mo-" there was a crackle of static. "Mathers? Mathers?" Allende yelled, pushing the ‘talk’ button of his walkie talkie. "Sara, answer me." Reyes paled. "Billy." Meanwhile, as he was being loaded onto an ambulance, Doggett looked helplessly up at the hospital. Then all the lights in the hospital went out. "Oh my God," one of the nurses cried out. "Let’s move, let’s move," the federal agent grabbed the nurse by her arm and hauled inside the ambulance. "Come on Monica," Doggett murmured as the ambulance doors slammed shut. "Get out of there." Allende reached into his jacket and pulled out a Mini Maglite flashlight. "Stay by me," he told Reyes, crossing his wrist, one hand holding the flashlight, the other the gun. "Watch for blind spots." "Is this guy armed?" Then there was screaming. Allende and Reyes ran up the stairs as fast as they could. Allende cautiously pushed open the door, gun out first. Reyes was continuously looking over her shoulder to watch their back but could only see the yawning darkness of the stairwell. She could hear her heart pounding. "Come on," Allende said, carefully entering the hallway. Reyes followed. The hallway was deserted. The greenish glow of the emergency lights reminded Reyes of haunted houses with their eerie lights and false appearance. Dead bodies strategically placed and monsters running around. Only at this fun house, there was one body and one monster. Both were real. Allende and Reyes rushed to the corpse lying on the floor. Fresh blood was still draining from the top of the neck where the head used to be. There was a FBI issued Smith and Wesson by her right hand. "Oh my God…" Allende moaned. "It’s Mathers." "Liam," Reyes said, cocking her gun and moving towards ICU. Full power was restored to the hospital. Nurses and doctors, some where hiding, some were shielding their patients, straightened themselves out when they saw the federal agents. Reyes managed to produce her badge. "Where was Dr. Liam Sealy kept?" Allende demanded. "The gunshot victim?" "Because after he killed that FBI agent, he went after him next. He said that if we didn’t interfere… we would be spared." She was crying now. A few of the older seasoned nurses went to her to comfort her while others began checking the vitals of the other patients. "Did anyone interfere?" Allende asked. One of the doctors spoke up. "When he… killed that FBI agent with his bare hands, we were too afraid to." Reyes pushed past him and walked over to where Sealy’s bed was. The curtain was drawn around it. "Monica," Allende tried to stop her but Reyes seized the curtains and pulled the curtains away. One of the nurses fainted at the sight of Sealy’s body. A doctor bolted the room to throw up. Dr. Liam Sealy’s head was neatly turned around backwards. Autopsy would later reveal that the head had been turned not just once. But twice. There was no note. There was no need for one. Reyes felt her knees buckle. Allende ran to support her as she finally collapsed. ** Two nights later Friday, May 3, 2002 Fox Mulder’s apartment Arlington, Virginia 8:35 PM Eastern Time "Scully," Mulder called out as he opened the door. "It’s us. Wow," he said, looking at all the lit candles in his apartment. "My landlord would have a panic attack if he saw the fire hazard you have unwittingly created." "With my mother." Scully said, putting the match inside of a pop can sitting on Mulder’s desk. "Where’s Dr. Vander Wheel?" Mulder asked. "He’s here," Scully told Mulder. "He’s in the bathroom." Scully sat down at Mulder’s desk and looked at Bravo’s bruised and battered face. "How are you feeling, Jerilyn?" "Not bad. Considering," Bravo said faintly. "You?" Before Scully could answer, the doctor entered the living room. He was a big man with a salt and pepper beard and a kind face. "Thank you Agent Scully," he said, nodding approvingly at all the candles. Bravo stood up and extended her hand. The doctor took it and said. "You must be Jerilyn Starkweather. My name is Doctor Michael Vander Wheel. I’ll be working with you tonight, is that alright with you?" The doctor spent a little time explaining hypnotism to Bravo. "Hypnotism is not, ‘mind control’ as some believe. I can not make you do anything that your internal core value system opposes. What hypnotism does is break down barriers that society and maturity and experiences create for your mind. For example, a normally shy man would never sing in front of a crowd. Under hypnotism, he sings Italian arias. Not because the hypnotist forced him to sing, but because the hypnotist helped him get to a relaxed state where the barricade of fear was evaporated. The shy man would not sing because he was afraid. When he doesn’t care about the fear, he can sing like a nightingale. "Do you want me to help you sing, Mrs. Starkweather?" Bravo nodded. "We can stop anytime, Mrs. Starkweather. You are in complete control. Alright?" She sat down in front of the doctor. "Whenever you’re ready." "Alright, Jerilyn. Look up at my face please. Do not break eye contact until I tell you to, alright?" "Ready." "Mrs. Starkweather, may I call you Jerilyn?" "Jerilyn, we are going to start with the easy questions first. Then the questions will start getting harder, but we’ll go at your speed, alright?" "What do you do for a living?" "How long have you been a federal agent?" "Almost two years." "Is being a federal agent dangerous?" "Why did you move from Minneapolis to Washington?" "How did your husband feel about that." "And did you put your ambition before your marriage?" "Where is your husband now, Jerilyn?" The doctor scrawled a note to himself on his little notepad. "How did that make you feel?" "I was sent to investigate an illegal laboratory in South Dakota with my partner." "Jerilyn, my questions are going to get harder now. Do you want to keep going?" "You mentioned a partner. Is this your partner with the FBI?" "My half-brother." The doctor chuckled. "Is that the only reason?" "Yes." "Because he was afraid that I would be taken away." "Yes." "And people are after you because of this?" The doctor stared at her for a moment. Wrote another note to himself. Then continued his line of questioning. "But they didn’t take you away in Oregon, did they?" "What happened?" "What happened?" "What happened when you came to?" "Where was your partner?" "Disappeared how." "Jerilyn, if you like, I can take you deeper into your subconscious so you can relive that night, instead of just answering questions. Would you like to try that instead." "What is happening, Jerilyn?" "How do you feel?" "You have great affection for your partner, don’t you?" "I fall asleep for a while. I’m very tired. I haven’t been sleeping well since Doggett disappeared. But I don’t sleep very well on the plane either. I can still hear the baby crying in the background… people talking. I’m cold. I take my jacket off and try to curl up underneath it… use it as a blanket. I never do get my drink. Stupid stewardess." She suddenly gasped. "Holy shit…" "It was my first case with the X-Files. We went to Scotland to investigate a fighter jet that crashed there. We were supposed to fly to London. Our plane started to shake… violently. I hurt myself on that flight. I cut my head," she touched her forehead, where she had painted on a crescent moon shaped scar. When the plane stopped shaking, we were in Rome, Italy. Oh my God… the same thing is happening now… oh God, oh shit, oh God… I’m trying to get my cell phone… I wanna call Mulder, tell him… oh gawd dammit I dropped my phone. The plane… it’s shaking badly now… I feel sick… oh God, I’m not gonna make it to Moscow…" Suddenly she screamed. "What is happening now?" the doctor’s voice was calm, but there was a fine film of perspiration on his chubby face. "The plane is in a tailspin. We are falling towards the ocean, oh my God… we’re going… we’re falling… oh God… wait… the plane… it stopped falling… we’re not moving… it feels like we’re hovering… but that’s not possible… that can’t happen… what the fuck is going on… this is not happening… oh Jesus… oh my God… there is something out there… no… no… no… oh my God…" "What do you see?" "A ship!!! A fucking spaceship. Just like the movies. Oh my fucking God, Mulder is right, Mulder is right… argghhh!! I can’t see… they’ve turned the lights on… my eyes… they’re burning… I can’t see…" she whimpered. "What is happening now, Jerilyn?" "Who is pulling you up?" The doctor said. "Jerilyn, listen to me, listen to no one but me, I’m going to count backwards from ten. At five you will feel wonderfully good and completely safe. At one you will feel awake. When I clap my hands you will be completely awake and you will remember everything. Alright?" "Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five…" At five, Bravo visibly relaxed. "Four… three… two… one." The doctor clapped his hands and Bravo’s eyes popped open. Then she began to shake. "Oh my God. Oh my God… I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my fucking mind. That did not happen. That DID not happen." She bolted from her seat and went to Mulder’s window, staring past the masking taped X on the pane of glass. "There IS no such thing as a fucking flying saucer… There isn’t." Mulder stood up and walked over to her. He did not touch her, but he said "Jerilyn, you can not deny what you saw."
Which irritated Bravo immensely. "Mulder, come on," Scully was beside Mulder now, tugging on his sleeve. "We have to go pick up William anyway. He hasn’t seen his daddy all day." "Jerilyn, I think you’re making a mistake by not continuing," Mulder said relentlessly. "Mulder…" Scully said impatiently. "Enough. Let’s go." Mulder pursed his lips like an old woman, but turned on his heel and followed Scully out the door. Dr. Vander Wheel closed the door behind him. "Mr. Mulder… I do feel that your sister needs some serious psychological analyzing. I feel that this regression session was more than digging up buried memories. It was a cry for help." "She doesn’t need psychological analysis," Mulder snapped. "She needs the truth." He stormed away. "Mulder…" Scully said helplessly. To the doctor, she said, "I’m sorry." Then she stalked to the elevator where Mulder was angrily pushing the down button over and over. "Mulder, what is right for you isn’t necessarily right for Jerilyn. You need to stop pushing her. She just got back. She is trying to readjust. She had a lot of horrible things happen to her within the past year. Her husband… her father… She needs more time, Mulder." Meanwhile, inside Apartment 42, Bravo had her ear pressed against the front door, listening to the doctor’s prognosis and Mulder and Scully’s argument. When she was confident that everyone had left, Bravo pirouetted around Mulder’s apartment, stopping at the fish tank. She began bowing to the fish. "Thank you. Thank you. I’d like to dedicate this Academy Award to all the little people that made it possible." She blew a kiss to the fish and set to work. Bravo knew she would have most of the night to search. Mulder and Scully would spend a little time with Scully’s mother before going back to Georgetown. Then Mulder would probably dally at Scully’s before returning to this shoebox of an apartment. She didn’t waste any time though. She braved Mulder’s bedroom and rummaged through his sock and underwear drawers, under his bed and through his closet. "Dammit," Bravo said, raiding his bathroom. She lifted the porcelain lid of the decrepit toilet that had seen many fish funerals and Mulder’s hangovers. Nothing. She looked under the sink. Nothing. "Hold on Bravo… wait a minute…" she muttered to herself. "Are the files paper files… or are they electronic files…" She left the bathroom, returning to the living room. Surveyed the messy apartment. Looked at Mulder’s video holder. "Hm…" Bravo knelt in front of it and began pulling out movies. "Dammit, Mulder, ever hear of DVDs?" she griped, examining each on, pulling out each video out of its sleeve, then putting it back in, criticizing each movie. "Red Shoes Diaries… soft porn… Return to Me… crappy movie. Evolution… even crappier movie… Playing God… stupidest movie I’ve ever seen… Caddyshack… kill me now… A Fish Called Wanda…" she paused. "A Fish Called Wanda… a fish… fishtank…" She put the video back on the shelf and stood up quickly. She bolted to the fish tank and lifted the lid. "Bingo," she said. There was a label-less CD-R taped to the underside of the lid. "Mulder, you dumb fuck." "Password… figures… okay," Bravo popped her knuckles. "Here we go…" She typed in "Trust No One." "Fuck you," Bravo said as she re-typed in "TrustNo1." Bravo typed in "Samantha" and received the edit again. She typed in "xfiles" and again, received the edit. Bravo gave the computer screen the bird and typed in "William." Then she tried "DanaKatherineScully." Then she tried "Mailliw" and "Anad." Nothing. "Shit… come on, Bravo, fucking think," she muttered, scratching her nose. "Get inside Mulder’s head." She thought for a minute. Then she typed in "sex." Access Granted. A graphic of the seal for the Central Intelligence Agency popped up. "Holy shit," Bravo whispered as the information scrolled in front of her. "This isn’t what I’m looking for… but it’s better than what I’m looking for…" She moved the cursor to the "Search" button and clicked. When the drop down menu produced a type-able field, she entered two words. One name. Lux Carlos. "Excellent," she whispered when Agent Lux Carlos’ information began downloading into her computer. Quickly she exited from the program and took the CD-R back to the fish tank, taping it back exactly as it was before. "If Mulder can’t help me, maybe you can," she said to the jpeg image of Carlos on her computer. Hm," she peered at the graphic closer. "You’re cute… One thing about you, Starkweather," she said, turning off the computer and getting up. "You’ve got decent taste in men…" "No… it can’t wait," she decided. "I need to take the risk." She went to Mulder’s land line, picked up the phone and dialed, crumpling up the paper and shoving it in her pocket. "Mulder?" a smooth voice answered on the first ring. "What is it?" "Obviously I can’t talk to you on this line. But I need to see you." "NeoX’s?" "Yes. I’ll be there in twenty minutes." The line went dead. Bravo checked her arsenal. She had her lipstick knife in her purse, a Derringer strapped to one ankle, the wicked three inch boot knife strapped to the other. She was wearing a pair of Jerilyn’s baggy old sweatpants that had obviously seen better days and a hooded sweatshirt with the University of Iowa’s team mascot, Herky the Hawkeye, on the front. Her hair was in a messy pony tail. She examined her reflection in the television screen. "Oh this won’t do," she purred, pulling a straggly strand of blond hair out of her eyes. "I can’t go meet the mighty Lux Carlos looking like this…" Zipping up a pair of knee high black boots, Bravo was dressed to kill. Literally. ** NeoX’s Internet Café and Laundromat. Arlington, VA The bells on the door tinkled merrily as Bravo, with a bag of Mulder’s dirty laundry over her shoulder, entered. She stood in the doorway, letting the glass door swing shut behind her, scouring the café-laundromat combo with her eyes, searching for her prey. The washing machines and cappuccino machines whirred. The bored cashier read a copy of the "New York Times" as a couple of college kids congregated around a small table, discussing Nietzsche over caramel lattes and sticky rolls. A skinny man with long blond hair was tapping away at an ancient Gateway2000 Solo laptop sipping at a big mug of hot chocolate. A woman was pulling her clean granny panties and lacy bras out of a dryer that had been painted lavender and splattered with red and black paint. The washing machines were all painted red with white and deep purple splotches. The ceiling was purple, the floor black and white tile, like a checkerboard. The tables were an electric blue. The lighting was dim, intimate. Music from the Squirrel Nut Zippers, a band she hated, was playing through the overhead speakers: [Put a lid on it] What's the you say? [Put a lid on it] Oh man no way! [Put a lid down on it and everything will be all right] Don't hand me that I'm all right Jack [Put a lid on it before somebody starts a fight] Every time I turn it loose You cats come down and cook my goose. [But if you keep this up you're gonna blow yer top] Too late this time I got to get what's mine Well grab your drink and clear a space I think it's time to torch this place Now the girl's in overdrive [But some of your pals want to stay alive] Put a lid on it Save it for another night. In the very far back of the café, sitting on a scuffed white leather couch, a handsome man with obsidian eyes and mahogany skin sat quietly folding his laundry. "Let me guess," Bravo said when she approached him. "You’re the type of person who folds their socks." Lux Carlos looked up; grinning as he finished neatly folded a pair of black socks. "How well you know me, Bailey-girl." "You’re a brave woman," Carlos said casually as Bravo began to separate whites from darks. "Do you have any idea how long Mulder lets his clothes ferment before he actually washes them?" Bravo pulled a sock out of the bag that seemed to be hard as a rock. She tapped it against the table. The table top cracked slightly. "My fingers are tingling," she grimaced, now holding the sock by her fingernails and lowering it on top of a pair of filthy jeans. "So," Carlos asked her as she swept up the small bundle of whites and dropped them into the nearest washer. "What’s going on? Why did you want to meet me?" "Oh you know," Bravo said as she added quarters to the machine. "Same old, same old. Intergalactic conspiracies are putting a crimp on my social life and I want to see if you can do anything to give me the semblance of normalcy." She added a scoop of Tide of the washer and closed the lid. Carlos scooted over to sit beside her. "This is very dangerous," he told her. "Me being out in public with you like this." "Go on," he said simply. "In the session, I said I remembered seeing a…" she laughed once, bitterly, "A space ship, Carlos. A fucking space ship." "What do you think it is then?" Carlos shook his head. "What is it?" Bravo smiled. "Extreme retentiveness of memory. Photographic memory." "Ah." Carlos frowned at it. "What’s this?" "That’s nice," Carlos said blandly. "But what IS it?"
"Yes," she said quietly. "Because the first thing he’s going to jump all over is to find out if it’s extraterrestrial." She snorted in disgust. "I know, I know. But because what happened to him in 2000, coupled with Scully and William, make him unreliable. He’s more… narrow-minded, now that his quest is Scully and William instead of Samantha. Scully’s got her hands full juggling Mulder, Boo and her career. Reyes and Doggett are still looking for Reyes’ sister. I don’t know who else to ask to do this. I know you’re a busy man…" Bravo nodded. "Okay." "I am glad to see you," Carlos said. "I’m glad you’re okay. In one piece and breathing." Laughing like Starkweather, she said, "That’s it. You’re fired." Carlos smiled back at her. "It’s good to hear you laugh, Bailey-girl. You haven’t done that in a while." "Take care of yourself, Bailey," he said, getting up. Bravo felt herself wanting to drool at his feet. He was taller than she expected. "I’ll take care of this for you." He picked up his laundry basket and walked away from her without saying goodbye. Bravo watched him walk away, appreciating the view. "Damn…" she whispered to herself. As she got up to switch Mulder’s laundry to the dryer, she thought about the progress of the case. So far, Reyes had been complying. Granted, her resignation was phony, as would the requested shutdown of the X-Files. That didn’t matter. They really weren’t expecting Reyes to actually quit or the Bureau to actually close the X-Files. Just as long as she kept hopping through the hoops. And as long as she was able to deliver on Rohrer’s final requirement. As Mulder’s boxers and jogging socks tumbled in the dryer, Bravo went up to the counter to order a coffee. "Do you sell smokes here?" she asked the cashier. "Foreign and domestic," the cashier droned. "Morley’s. Red," she said, "And espresso. And do you have lighters?" "We have matches," the cashier said taking her money. "But you can borrow my lighter." He nodded to the blue Bic lighter laying on top of the ‘New York Times.’ "We allow smoking after nine o’clock, except on Sundays and Mondays. Those are our smoke free days." He held out her cigarettes. Bravo jumped and snapped at him, brushing his hand away. "Do I fucking know you?" she snapped at the man who had been working on the Gateway Solo in the corner of the café. Before he could answer, she said. "I didn’t think you. Now, back off. I’m not in the mood. At all," she lit up the cigarette. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You’re still standing here." She exhaled. Langly, with his mouth still hanging open, backed off. "Sorry," he said softly, more than just hurt. She scared him. The gleam in her hazel eyes made her look like evil personified. Bravo, not having any clue what any of the Lone Gunmen looked like, eyed Langly as he retreated to his hot chocolate and computer. <<Wonder if he needs to be eliminated?>> she mused as she returned to her seat. <<Yeah… Dammit, shouldn’t have caused a scene.>> Langly, packed up his computer into his backpack. He left a dollar tip on the table and put his coat on. He looked over his shoulder.
<<Maybe I did make a mistake>> Langly thought. <<Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was Lilly Stratford. <<Wonder who that big black dude she was talking to?>> Langly had no idea what Lux Carlos looked like anymore than Carlos knew what the Gunmen looked like. He slung the backpack over his shoulders and started walking. "Aw, man," he bitched as he heard thunder. "Great. It’s gonna rain," he bitched. He had wanted to take their VW van out but Byers and Frohike strenuously protested, saying that they needed to conserve gas to save money. So Langly stole a dollar from Byers’ piggy bank and took the bus into town. The bus stop was a sad little sign on a telephone pole. Langly looked at the bus stop sign, then he looked down the street in the other direction. Mulder’s apartment building wasn’t that far away from here. Maybe Mulder could give him a lift back to Tacoma Falls. And then maybe he could ask him about how Starkweather was doing. At first he felt slighted that she hadn’t come to visit them yet, but after tonight… now he wasn’t so sure. Rain began to fall as Langly meandered towards Mulder’s. He wrapped his coat around himself tighter and walked faster. The street seemed very dark. Bravo, dressed in a black cat suit, face covered with black grease paint, hair hidden under a black cap, watched Langly from the rooftops. She followed him a bit, running and leaping from roof to roof. Once she figured out that he was going to keep going straight, she moved a head of him a little bit. She shimmied down a fire escape, then skulked along the wall, in the alley. Waiting for her prey to come. She reached down and pulled her boot knife out. And felt the barrel of a gun being pressed against her head. "He’s a little below your league, isn’t he, Bravo?" a husky voice taunted her. Fuming, she snapped "How long have you been here, Xena?" Shannon McMahon replied tartly, "You know I don’t like that name." "Keeping you honest."
Shannon McMahon lowered the gun. "We received your correspondence." "The plan stays the same." Bravo smiled nastily. "They don’t have to worry. I’ll do what they say on this mission. But send a word back to them for me." McMahon nodded curtly. "I’ll tell them." Then there was the sound of a car stopping. "Hey man," Jimmy Bond said affably to Langly. "Good to see you!" "Well, my leads on," He lowered his voice furtively "You-Know-Who," meaning Yves, "kind of dwindled right now, so I came back to DC for a few days. What about you? What are you doing?" Langly was no where to be found. "Dammit," she said, as the rain began to fall. She returned to the alley where already, McMahon was healing. "You cost me a mark," she snapped at her. "Maybe he was beneath me, but he still needed to go." She kicked McMahon vindictively. "And I have no time to go after him. I have to go make a house call." She turned and disappeared down the black alley. McMahon pulled herself back up, clutching her healing stomach. "God damn you Bravo," she seethed. "You’re going to destroy everything." Later that night… Heather and Lyle Callahan’s house Alexandria, VA "Yeah, yeah. Okay. Thank you much. Uh-huh, bye-bye," Heather Callahan chirped into the phone before hanging it up. Putting her hands on her massive hips, she surveyed her kitchen, completely decorated in a too-cute-for-Martha-Stewart theme of an old time kitchen with all the modern appliances. She went back to loaning up the dishwasher. "Hey Lyle?" she called out. "Yeah?" her husband called out from his study, the only room that was permitted to have a remotely masculine decor. "Did you take out the trash?" Heather sighed and straightened up. She hoped that she would be able to get that job at the private clinic she interviewed at last week. The work load at the hospital was just killer her lower vertebra and she also wondered if she was working on a hernia. She didn’t dare complain about it to her personal physician because the first words out of his mouth would be "Lose weight." "Can you please?" "Can I please what?" "In a minute." Bravo peered through the kitchen window, watching her leave. Then ducked her head down again, low-crawling next to the house until she reached the rose trellis. Then scurrying up it like a rat. Meanwhile, Heather was berating her poor husband in the living room. "You said "In a minute" an hour ago." "Yeah well, just a bit more, hon."
"Leslie Callanwolde called," Heather said as Lyle shuffled past her. "Who’s that?" "Oh yeah?" "She said she can trade shifts with me. So I’ll be working for her next weekend." Lyle turned to smile at his plump wife, sitting in front of the tube in their living which she had over killed with lace, chintz and pink roses. "Yeah," he agreed before ducking into the kitchen. Lyle was a boring man who had a boring job and a boring wife. From cradle to school to marriage, he was one of the mediocre that blended in with the rest of America. His death did not match his life. Bravo was waiting for him on the roof, lying flat on her belly. She waited until he had lifted the lid of the garbage can before propelling herself off the roof, flipping herself to the ground, standing behind him. Lyle jumped at the sound of Bravo’s feet hitting the ground. He whirled around and saw a small woman, dressed head to toe in black leather. Her face caked in black greasepaint, but her eyes glittering like emeralds. "Wha-" was all he was able to get out for Bravo assaulted him with a vicious back fist smash and roundhouse kick at the same time. Her fist connected with his cheekbone, her foot with his gut. As he doubled over in pain, Bravo pulled out one of her Chinese throwing darts and pitched one into his throat, another one into his belly. He collapsed onto the ground, groaning in pain and pleading for his life. Meanwhile, his wife was inside, giggling at the antics of the crazy and pompous interior decorators on "Trading Spaces." The volume was turned up loudly. Grunting and groaning, Lyle tried to crawl away from the black wingless angel of death, but she pulled her boot knife out and leapt onto his back, straddling him. Grabbing him by the hair, she yanked his head up, "Don’t be offended," she told him just before she severed his throat. "But this isn’t personal." Sipping at a glass of diet Pepsi, Heather began to wonder what in the world was taking Lyle so long. She turned the television down and was going to check on him when a woman entered her living room. Heather froze. She looked like a creature from those horribly violent video games her nephews adored. Shiny black leather hugged every curve of her lean body. Her face looked to be covered with black makeup and blood. Her hair tumbled down in golden waves around her heart-shaped face. She also wore black leather gloves and knee high black boots. In her hand was a shiny silver gun. "Lyle!" she cried out. Bravo pulled the trigger. Heather stopped her pleading. Bravo put her black stocking cap back on. "Too easy," she muttered, turning the light switch off with her elbow. As she slipped out of the house, she opened the garage and drove Lyle’s 1994 Ford Taurus out, with Lyle in the trunk. ** Much later… Mulder’s apartment Arlington, VA Mulder let himself in. The apartment was very dark, but by the streetlight that was shining through his window, he saw a small figure sleeping on his couch. Dressed in a pair of ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt. Shutting the door behind him, he crept up on her and after removing her tennis shoes and socks, covered her up with a thick blanket. Sighing heavily, he trudged to the bathroom, stripped off his damp jeans and sweater and stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it would go. He had gotten caught out in the rain after he said good night to Scully and William and was going back out to his car. Bravo opened her eyes and glared at the bathroom door. It would be so easy to take Mulder out right now. Naked and defenseless in his shower. Hell, she was feeling artistic right now. She could probably make it look like auto-erotic asphyxiation gone horribly awry. But she had orders. And she was going to follow them.
** Later still… Saturday, May 4, 2002 The Lone Gunmen’s Lair Tacoma Falls 12:17 AM Eastern Standard Time Frohike looked up from the television screen as Langly walked in. "Where’ve you been?" he asked. "Ran into Jimmy Bond," Langly said dully. Frohike frowned. "What crawled up your skinny ass and died? You’re not your usual bubbly self." "Nothin’… I’m gonna go to bed." "Langly?" Now Frohike was serious. "You alright?" "Um… yeah. Hey, Fro?" "Yeah?" "Mind if I go wire Starkweather’s apartment tomorrow?" "Go ahead. Just stay outta her panty drawer." When Langly didn’t even rise to that gibe, he said, "Alright, Langly, what’s going on?" "I have a feelin’," Langly said. "That’s it’s only gonna get darker yet." "I’m gonna go crash. We can’t do nothin’ tonight," Langly felt his way to the back room where his bedroom was. Frohike took off his glasses, rubbed his face, then put his glasses back on. He waited in the dark for about five minutes, hoping the energy company would be able to get the power restored. When it didn’t happen, he gave up and went to bed as well. ** Later… Saturday, May 6, 2002 Los Angeles Crime Lab Los Angeles, California 10:13 AM Pacific Time
Alice Lyoness had her eye pressed to the lens of her microscope when her partner, Howard Matthews breezed in, carrying a large sack from Starbucks. "You’re late." "What’m I lookin’ at?" he complained as he lowered his head down to the microscope. Then he jerked away in surprise. Looked at Lyoness again, then into the microscope again. "Whoa. What AM I lookin’ at?" "Where did you get it from?" "Who? Doggett? Nah… he looks… he looks like this dude that’s been showing up on "The Sopranos" once in a while though…" "I don’t watch that show. It offends my East Coast sensibilities," Matthews grunted. "S’ok, you got this off Southern boy. Skin samples… but skin samples like I’ve never seen before…" with gloved hands, handed Matthews a different slide. "I haven’t run the paternity test yet, but… check it out…" A little later Comfort Inn 1710 West 7th Street Los Angeles, CA 90017 11:22 PM Eastern Standard Time Reyes was lighting a cigarette with a glowing cigarette butt when she heard a gentle tap on her door. "Shit," she said, hoping it wasn’t her mother. "Who is it?" "Sore," he said, moving stiffly. "But I’ll live. You?" Reyes shrugged, sitting down on her bed. "I’m okay." Doggett frowned at her. "And I talked to Mulder. He said she looked pretty bad." Reyes nodded. There had to be a way to proof that she was not Starkweather. <<But if I prove that, will they kill Teri? Oh God, there is no right answer.>> "Have you talked to Allende lately?" she quickly changed the subject. "Yeah, I talked to him before coming here." Doggett said. "He said that he’s makin’ preparations to have Rowan transferred to Bethesda. I’m gonna have Scully go take a look at her once she gets there. As far as your sister… nothing new." "I don’t know how I’m going to tell Teri about Liam," Reyes admitted. Her hand trembled as she brought the cigarette up to her lip. Doggett gently grabbed her wrist and lowered her hand away from her mouth. "Well, smoking like a chimney’s not gonna help," he chided her. She let him take the cigarette away from her. "Thought you were tryin’ to quit anyway?" He put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him. "I’m the last person to come up with the right thing to say. But, you’ll think of somethin’ Monica. You always do." "I don’t know why, but this whole ordeal reminds me of the Jaguar and the Little Skunk." "’Once there was a gentleman jaguar and a lady skunk. Mrs. Skunk had a son, who was baptized by Mr. Jaguar, so Mrs. Skunk became his comadre (godmother). And as Mr. Jaguar had baptized the little skunk, he was Mrs. Skunk's compadre (godfather).
Mr. Jaguar decided to go looking for food and came to Mrs. Skunk's house. "Well, compadre, what are you looking for? What have you come here for?" the skunk asked the jaguar. "Comadre, what I have come to do is to look for some food," said Mr. Jaguar. "Oh," said Mrs. Skunk. "I want my godson to come with me so that he can learn to hunt," said Mr. Jaguar. "I don't think your godson ought to go; he's still very small and something could happen to him. He better not go, compadre," said Mrs. Skunk. But the little skunk protested: "No, mother, I had better go. What my godfather says is true. I need to get some practice, if I'm going to learn to hunt," said the little skunk. "But if you go, you'll be so far away," said Mrs. Skunk. "I'm going, I'm going. Come on, let's go." So they set off on a long walk. "We're going to where there's a river. That's where we're going," Mr. Jaguar explained to the little skunk, his godson. "When are we going to get there?" asked the little skunk. "We're getting close. Follow me so you won't get lost," said Mr. Jaguar. "All right," answered the little skunk. They finally came to the river. "This is where we're going to eat," said Mr. Jaguar to the little skunk. "All right," said the little skunk. "Come on over here. I'm going to sharpen my knife," said Mr. Jaguar. "All right," said the little skunk, looking at his godfather. Mr. Jaguar sharpened his claws, which he called his "knife." "I sharpened my knife. Now you're going to be on guard, because I am going to sleep. When you see them come, wake me up," said Mr. Jaguar. "All right," said the little skunk, "all right, godfather."
"All right," said the little skunk. Then the one with the big antlers came, and the skunk awakened Mr. Jaguar. He scratched his belly, and pointed out the deer to Mr. Jaguar, who attacked the animal with big antlers. He went after him and seized him. "All right, my godson, let's eat. We're going to eat meat," said the jaguar. "All right," said the little skunk. And so they ate and ate. "Now we're going to take whatever leftovers there are to your mother," said the jaguar. "Since we are full, we can take something to your mother. Your mother will have meat to eat, just as we did. We will take some to your mother," said the jaguar. When they came back to the mother's house, he told the lady: "Look at the food here. Look, we've brought you some food, the food that we hunted. Eat your fill of the meat, comadre," the jaguar said to Mrs. Skunk. "All right," said the skunk, and ate the meat. "I'm full," she said. "It's good that you're satisfied. I've seen that you are, so I'll be leaving now," said Mr. Jaguar to Mrs. Skunk. And so he left. After the jaguar left, the little skunk stayed with his mother. When they ran out of meat, Mrs. Skunk said to her son: "Dear, our meat is all gone." "Yes, the meat is all gone. I better go and get us some more food," said the little skunk. "How can you, son? Do you think you're big enough? You're very small. Don't you think you'll be killed?" asked Mrs. Skunk. "No, mother, I already know how to hunt, my godfather taught me how," replied the little skunk. "I'm leaving now." He left, and Mrs. Skunk was very worried. Her son came once more to the river, the place to which he had come with his godfather to get the meat. "This is how my godfather did it. Why shouldn't I be able to do the same thing?" said the little skunk. "This is how you sharpen a knife," said the little skunk. He sharpened his "knife." "This is the way my godfather did it. I'm not going to hunt the little animals, I'm just going to hunt the one with the great big antlers. I'm going to hunt one for myself just like the one I ate with my godfather. I have my knife here and I'm going to sleep for a little while." The little skunk lay down to sleep, but then he awakened. He was waiting for the one with the big antlers, and when he came, he attacked him, thinking he was as strong as his godfather. But he just hung from the neck of the one with big antlers. His claws had dug into his skin. He was hanging from his neck and was carried far away and fell on his back. He was left with his mouth wide open. Since he had not come home to his mother, she wondered: "What could have happened to my son? Why hasn't he come back yet? Something must have happened to him. I better go and look for him." And so Mrs. Skunk went as far as the bank of the river. She was looking everywhere for her son, but couldn't find him. She began to cry when she found the tracks where the one with the big antlers had come by running. "They must have come by here," said Mrs. Skunk, and began to follow the tracks. She came to the place where her son had been left lying on his back. When the mother caught sight of him, she noticed that his teeth were showing and shouted at him: "Son, what are you laughing at? All your teeth are showing," she said to him before she had gotten very close. When she did get close she told him: "Give me your hand. I've come to get you, but you're just laughing in my face." She put her hand on him, thinking that he was still alive, but when she noticed that he was already dead, she began to cry."" <<From Tales and Legends of the Q'anjob'al Maya, published by Yax Te' Press, copyright 1995.>> Doggett looked at her, his arched eyebrows knit in confusion. "I think that story loses a lot in translation Mon," he told her. "I feel like the child skunk. I’ve watched the more experienced hunters capture their prey. And I think that because I’ve watched the experienced hunter, I believe that I know what I’m doing. But I really don’t, and I’m going to destroy myself in the process." She smiled, feeling smaller and smaller. ** Later that day An undisclosed FBI safehouse Near the Los Angeles Field Office 12:15 PM Pacific Time Dr. Sonia Fix had not left the child’s side since the ordeal began. Coated with sweat, Rowan’s pale little face concerned the doctor. As well as the child’s racing pulse and lack of appetite. Maternally, she pulled another blanket over her. Rowan opened her big eyes. "I wanna go home." There was a knock on the door. Dr. Fix got up and walked over to open the door. "Yes?" she said, barely polite. Her almost rudeness did not faze stoical Agent Allende. "I just wanted to let you know," he said calmly. "That we will be transporting Rowan to a secured hospital soon." "No later than the end of this week, that is a promise. Unless her health begins deteriorating at a more rapid rate. Then we’ll try and push for earlier date. But these things must be carefully planned. The child’s welfare and safety is the top priority." "Where is she going?" "It would be wise. It could save valuable time." When Allende left, Dr. Fix took up her place next to Rowan. Taking the girl’s hand, she said. "Soon, this will all be over soon." ** Scully’s apartment Georgetown 5:30 PM Eastern Standard Time "William, no, no," Scully admonished her son as he pulled on the golden crucifix that hung on a delicate chain around her neck. "Don’t play with Mommy’s cross." "Pitty!" William said cheerfully, tugging on the pendant. Scully sighed. She gave up trying to read a story to him and so reached for the remote control. "Yes, Mommy’s necklace is pretty. Shall we find cartoons? Huh, sweetie? Should we see if Bugs Bunny is on?" Scully smiled as she clicked on the television. The news anchor for the local NBC affiliate looked earnestly at the camera that brought his handsome craggy face into all the homes in the DC and surrounding area. "Police are baffled as a strange murder case grows stranger. Heather Callahan, 27, was found this morning with a single gunshot wound to her head-" "In a second, sweetie," Scully said, picking up her cell phone. "I have to call your dad." "Mulder." "BUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." "Too late," Mulder deadpanned as he turned the television on. He grinned when he recognized one of their allies in the police force, Detective Edward Carillo. "… we thought that at first, the victim, Lyle Callahan, had maybe lost control of his car during last night’s storm," Carillo was telling a reporter. Behind him, a muddy and wet Ford Taurus was being loaded onto a flatbed truck. "But then we discovered the victim in the truck with a cut throat. This case will be a challenge, but we’re up to it." The picture cut back to the anchor at the studio. "Police are asking anyone with any information to please-" "Heather Callahan was the nurse that assisted me with Starkweather’s exam when she came back to us." Mulder stayed very quiet for a long time. Scully finally had to say his name again to get his attention. "Are you sure?" he said quietly. "I’m pretty damn sure," Scully said grimly. "I can’t forget her. She annoyed the hell out of me. Starkweather too. She wouldn’t shut up about her damn Beanie Baby collection." Mulder opened his mouth about how civilization may have been aided by her termination, but shut it quickly. "Why Scully? What is going on here? Jerilyn is returned to us, and then, Teresa Reyes disappears, the Senator disappears and now a nurse which an irritating penchant towards overpriced stuffed toys is murdered along with her husband. Why?" "I don’t know Mulder. It doesn’t make sense." "Scully. This is NOT a coincidence. Look, a message is being sent to us, but it’s encrypted." Meanwhile… En route John Doggett’s house Falls Church, VA Bravo was bound and determined to get that damn cat out of Doggett’s house and back to Starkweather’s. She was on a mission, dammit. She was fuming about Callahan fiasco. Everything had gone so cleanly the night before. No one had seen her. The storm aided her greatly. And she was positive no one followed her as she went to deposit the car with Lyle Callahan’s body in the trunk. His death was never meant to be public. She knew disposing of the Callahans was essential. After all, Heather commented how well she looked in her new contact lenses as she examined her eyes. Fortunately, Scully had been out of the room when she made that stupid remark. Bravo just grinned and bore it, memorizing her name, her chipmunk like face and irritating laugh. And stealing the chart while she stepped out in the hall for a minute. "Look at this," she had bitched to Scully when she came back. "She put my wrong eye color down. Do these," she had fluttered her eyelids rapidly. "Look blue to you? Stopping in front of Doggett’s house, she reached into her purse and dug out a bottle of eye re-wetting drops. After putting a drop in each eye, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a minute and then, re-opened her eyes. She hated wearing contacts. "God damn," she said with a sigh. Well, the discovery of Lyle Callahan was unfortunate but she had dealt with more difficult situations. "Alright you god damned cat," she seethed as she got out of her car, stalking towards Doggett’s house. "Round three." She let herself in. The house was still in shambles from the last time she visited. With a groan, she lifted the shelf back to its upright position and put the books back. After completing that task, she picked up the empty can of tuna off the floor and called out softly. "Kitty…" "Okay, so you’re not starving," Bravo said. "Where in the hell ARE you then?" "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!" Bravo screamed as she capered blindly through the kitchen, trying to pull the cat off her head. She slammed into wall, then fell over, onto her back. Caesar leapt off of her before she fall and daintily scampered away. Bravo then experienced a princess moment. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" she yelled, kicking the floor with her heel. "YOU FUCKING CAT I HATE YOU! DIE! FUCKING DIE!" Score: Cat, three. Assassin, zero. ** Later on.. Los Angeles Crime Lab Los Angeles, California 3:30 AM Pacific Time "Results are in," Matthews announced, carrying a folder as he entered the lab. Lyoness was still perplexing over Rohrer’s tissue sample. She was surrounded by huge medical textbooks. "So soon?" "Somebody’s got a burr up his ass to keep this case rolling." Matthews handed the file to Lyoness. "Wonder which ass? The hard ass or the crab ass?" "Agent Doggett’s the crab ass. Agent Allende’s the hard ass… and a nice hard ass he’s got…" Lyoness suddenly got a very dreamy and wistful look in her eyes. "Shame on you," Matthews teased her. "Nice married girl lustin’ for a Mexican." "He’s Chilean-American." "Whateva’." "Anyway, so what’s the scoop?" Lyoness opened the file. "It’s only a prelim, but it confirms what the kid says." "What, that this genetic freak, is her biological father?" When Matthews nodded, Lyoness opened the file "Holy shit." "Whattabout you? How you makin’ out with the skin?" "Hey, what are you doin’? You’re messing up the sample!" Matthews snorted, but then suddenly widened his eyes. "Holy balls, the cells are… rebuildin’ themselves…" "Spontaneous regeneration." "Sure, c’mon in," Matthews beckoned him. "What’chu doin’ here?" "What’s this?" Benchly picked up Rowan’s file. "The paternity test? It’s already in?" "Great, well… let us know if you find anything else." "Maybe we shoulda told him ‘bout the cell sample," Matthews said after he had left. Lyoness shook her head. "Nah. Why shake people up with science fiction? Let’s find out exactly what we’re dealing with before we freak out the general public." As Matthews started to walk out the door, he exclaimed, "Hey! Benchly forgot his gym bag." ** Later on… Special Agent Santiago Allende’s office Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 6:35 PM Pacific Time Doggett knocked on Allende’s office door. He could hear Frank Sinatra’s voice crooning through the door, but didn’t recognize the song. "Come in." Doggett entered. "I came as soon as I could." His voice was still hoarse after Rohrer’s choke hold on him earlier. "Bad." Allende muttered. "The lab is destroyed. The bomb completely leveled it. Lyoness and Matthews are dead. All the evidence we sent in for testing has been destroyed as well." Allende said "I hope so. Do you mind sticking around for a while? You’re kind of the leading authority on Rohrer." "I feel fine. Little sore, but I’m okay." Just then, Agent Malford stuck his head in. "Santiago, we need you for a minute." He did not even acknowledge Doggett’s presence. "Do you mind?" Allende asked Doggett, standing up from behind his desk. "No," Doggett said, sitting down. "I gotta make a call anyway." When Allende left the tiny office, Doggett scooted around to sit at his desk. He dialed her number from memory. "Hello?" "Hey," Bravo forced her voice to be warm and concerned. She was lying on the couch again with another ice-pack but this time on the top of her head. "Mulder just called me a little while ago about the lab. What the hell happened?" Doggett told her what he knew. "This doesn’t make any sense, Doc," he sadly told her. "I wish… yeah… I don’t know either," Bravo sighed. "How are you doin’?" "Oh, Mulder is still shoving that hypnosis bullshit down my throat." All Doggett could think to say was "Oh." "No… no, it’s okay, I forgot about the time difference," he said lamely. "I’ll…" he almost said ‘I’ll call you tomorrow’ but instead said. "I’ll just talk to you later." Carlos walked out of the kitchen. "Who was that?" "How’s he doing?" Carlos fell for her line like a hook and sinker. "You are hardly a child, Jeri." Bravo gave him a sweet smile. "I’m glad you came over to tell me about the DNA testing in person." "Trust me," Carlos said darkly, kneeling beside her as she lay back down on the couch again. "We’re gonna nail Blade Connor’s ass to the wall for this." He took her hand and she squeezed his back in return. Meanwhile, Doggett got out of Allende’s chair, holding his bruised ribs, wincing as he rose. Slowly, feeling old and wasted, he looked out the window, at the sea of busy people going about life outside. Frank Sinatra was still playing on Allende’s stereo: "Each time I see a crowd of people, just like a fool I stop and stare It's really not the proper thing to do, but maybe you'll be there I go out walking after midnight, along the lonely thoroughfare It's not the time or place to look for you, but maybe you'll be there You said your arms would always hold me, you said you lips were mine alone to kiss Now after all those things you told me, how can it end like this Someday if all my prayers are answered, I'll hear a footstep on the stair With anxious heart, I'll hurry to the door, and maybe you'll be there…" He leaned his forehead against the window pane and closed his eyes. *** Sunday, May 5, 2002 The Coffee is My Friend 24 Hour Coffee Shop Washington DC 8:01 AM Eastern Standard Time "Blade Connor?" Mulder said in disbelief. Lux Carlos nodded before taking a swig of his Irish Cream latte. "We’ve checked, re-checked and triple checked. Somehow, Blade Connor’s DNA got underneath the lovely Mrs. Starkweather’s nails." Mulder told him, "Because in the eyes of the law, all the evidence is circumstantial. We could bring him in on charges, sure, but with what information we have so far; either he’d get a joke of a sentence. Probation time served or get off completely. And if he got off completely, we could never go after him again. Double jeopardy. Granted, this is assuming that the judge doesn’t start laughing hysterically at the case file and throw the entire case out of court on the grounds of sheer idiocy." Carlos shook his head. "Mulder. You got to stop." Mulder glared at him. "I’ve only bent a few rules." A little later An undisclosed FBI safehouse Somewhere in the Washington DC area "Connor!" Samita Saint Claire exclaimed in joy as her husband entered the room. Blade Connor crossed to her and embraced her warmly. "Hey baby," he whispered to her, stroking her soft brown hair. Once he had been a simple man named Connor Saint Claire. He never had any delusions of grandeur. His life progressed the way he expected. He left high school, got a college degree, met a pretty girl and married her. The only snag in their life together was her inability to bear children. This did not bother Connor in the least. His masculinity did not be assuaged by reproduction. Connor made a decent living. They weren’t exactly swimming in money, but he and Samita didn’t lack anything. They could afford to pursue adoption. Their first child came to them from Romania. A boy that had lain forgotten in a desolate orphanage until the American couple claimed him as his own. Samita and Connor agreed to not to change the child’s name of Alexandru. But in time, the boy was baptized with the very American nickname of Drew. And Drew was a completely American boy. He ran around in the back yard, he played with Tonka trucks in his sandbox, he watched Saturday morning cartoons. When Connor received a raise, he and Samita began to seriously discuss the possibilities of adopting another child. Eventually, they decided to go for it. And Kora-Lee came to them from Korea. Pretty little girl with silky midnight hair and lotus blossom skin. The minute Samita introduced her to Drew, Kora-Lee became his little pet. He christened her "Kory", so excited to be a big brother. Connor affectionately wondered how long that was going to last, when Drew would become allergic to his little sister’s presence. It wasn’t a perfect life. The children, as all small children do from time to time, frustrated them with their temper tantrums and whining. He and Samita squabbled over finances and the television occasionally. They needed a new car, but with the finalizing of Kory’s adoption, there just wasn’t enough money at the time. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was a good life. Until the men in black came last December. Connor had no idea of Samita’s past. Samita didn’t even realize her past. Her parents were both dead. Her stepmother died of a heart attack two years ago. But she didn’t know how her father died, it was an unsolved mystery. She knew that her oldest sister, Marita Covarrubias, worked for the government, but somehow got mixed up in an underground organization and landed herself on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. The last she had heard from her other sister Felitza was that she had landed a job at the third oldest law firm in Washington DC and was dating a lawyer, a nice man named Ben Starkweather. Ignorance was truly bliss. Connor had tried to fight the men off when they stormed their home. He was a fit and trim man who worked out three times a week religiously, plus was an amateur boxer in college. But these men were invincible. And strong. He woke up in the hospital to discover that the children were safe, but Samita was gone and those men had broken his back. He was never going to walk again. Or so they thought. When Samita was returned to him, something strange happened. He fell asleep, paralyzed from the waist down. The next morning, when he woke up, he had full sensation in his lower extremities. He could walk. The FBI swiftly put Samita and the children into a safe house after that on the orders of Assistant Director Skinner. Connor refused to go. He did not trust his government to keep Samita or his children safe anymore. He refused to stay cooped up like a rat. He was going to do everything within his power to keep Samita safe. Even if that meant becoming a monster. A man he hoped his son wouldn’t grow up to be. "Where are the kids?" he asked. Samita told him, "In the other room. Watching cartoons. I’ll call them." She broke away from his embrace and called, "Drew! Kory!" The kids tore out of their bedroom and wrapped their fat little arms around Connor’s legs. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Drew crowed as Connor swung him up in the air. Connor played and talked with the kids for about an hour. Then, he sent them into their bedroom again. "I have to talk to your mom." "Soon, buddy, soon," Connor promised. "Now, go play with your sister. I bet you have a whole bunch of new toys in your bedroom. As the children scampered back to the small room they shared together, Samita said quietly. "So define ‘soon’ for me, for us, Connor," she sat down with an Audrey Hepburn grace. "Tomorrow? Next week? Another month?" Until the FBI placed her and her children into their protective custody, she had not known that Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Jerilyn existed. Now she knew more than she wanted. And was tired of living in fear. And tired of wondering exactly what her husband was up to. "Sami, I’m working on it," he told her raggedly. "I’m trying to ensure yours and the kids’ safety." She did not realize the role he had played in the Starkweather abduction, but she suspected that Connor was not exactly working within the realms of the law. "It’s not like that," he lied, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. "I’m trying to arrange it so we can get out from under the FBI’s scrutiny so we can move." "Move?" "Marita??" Shocked, Samita pulled her hands out from his. "Connor, she’s a wanted felon." "Under assumed names," she said scornfully. "Like fugitives. What about our home? Our house, our jobs?" "If those people come for you again, Samita," Connor said seriously. "Then none of that means a damn. Come on Sami," he reached for her hands again. "Don’t you want to go somewhere where the kids can play outside again without the benefit of SWAT surveillance?" Samita began to cry softly. Connor stood up and hugged her tight. "Two weeks," he whispered. "Two weeks and then we’re out of here." He cupped her face tenderly, leaning in for a kiss. "I promise, my love. This will all be a bad dream soon." "Can you come back tonight?" she begged him. Her existence had narrowed to this dismal apartment. The kids had the occasional benefit of going outside once in a while, but only when it was cleared by the federal agents and under heavy guard. Samita had to remain indoors. He gave her a naughty smile. "I’ll come back when the kids are in bed." Connor nodded. She asked for so little. Normally she didn’t appeal for him to stay like this. The walls must be beginning to close in on her. "I’ll see what I can about pushing the move date up," he whispered, kissing her a few more times before breaking away. "I’m gonna go say good-bye to the kids," he said with tears in his eyes. Samita nodded, sinking down onto the couch again. Connor hated saying good bye to the kids and Samita. He didn’t trust the FBI or the CIA or god knows whatever government agency was monitoring them. Which was why it was imperative that they leave the country and soon. In Connor’s opinion anyway. Connor allowed himself to be escorted out by nameless federal agents with forgettable faces. The faces waiting for him outside, however, were far from forgettable. "Gentlemen," Connor said, shifting his eyes from Fox Mulder to Lux Carlos. "To what I owe the pleasure?" "How’s Samita doing, Blade?" Mulder asked bluntly. "Going stir-crazy," Connor snapped at him. "Why aren’t you two doing anything about the threat on my wife’s life?" Mulder ignored his sallie. "Blade, did you know that Agent Starkweather was found? Alive?" "Funny how she was found," Carlos said casually. "The hospital took scraping from underneath her fingernails." "Why? Who cares?" "I don’t see where this is going," he said impatiently. "Why? Have a meeting with Marita Covarrubbias?" Mulder asked laconically, privately gloating at the dumbfounded look on Connor’s face. "What? You didn’t’ think we’d have listening devices in Samita’s safehouse?" "And consorting with the Syndicate is much better idea, sure," Mulder said, glaring at him. "Those men are dangerous, Connor. They prevaricate and they deceive. They care for no one but themselves." "The story you fed Agent Reyes last winter. About your brother Mark being a test subject at the Never Never Land Orphanage. Was that true or was that a pile of bullshit to coerce Agent Reyes into assisting you?" "Assist me in what?" Connor turned pale. "No…" Blandly, Carlos said "Now you know why Bill Scully Jr. goes ape-shit on you." "I’m CIA. I know everything." "What?" Carlos said innocently. "Aliens planted your DNA on Agent Starkweather? Bad ET, bad." "I wanted to protect Samita," he said weakly. "That’s all. I was given orders, to give you and Reyes information about Doggett’s whereabouts when he was abducted. They said if I followed to the letter, then they would leave me and Samita and my kids in peace." In a stronger voice, he said "If the roles were reversed. If it was your woman and kid at risk, you would have done the same thing." Carlos said lowly to Connor. "We’re watching you, Mr. Saint-Claire, Blade, whatever damn alias you’re going by this week. And you’re going down. Life could be easier if you cooperate with us." When Connor walked away, Mulder started to go after him. But Carlos stopped him. "Let ‘im go." "Mulder, what is it?" "Your cell phone’s flashing," Carlos pointed out, choosing to ignore Mulder’s remark. "Dammit," Mulder said. "I forgot I put it on ‘silent.’" Mulder checked the caller ID. "Dammit," he said again. "What?" "Damn…" Mulder said when he heard the beginning of the recording. "Langly, it’s me. Phone tag, you’re it." Mulder turned his phone off. "Hope it’s not important." *** The Lone Gunmen Lair Tacoma Falls 4:45 PM Eastern Standard Time "Dammit," Langly bitched as he got Mulder’s voice mail again. "Mulder, it’s me. Look, I gotta talk to you… is it possible that I come see ya tomorrow at City Hall? Or can ya come over here? Lemme know." Langly hung up the phone with a bang. "Langly," Byers said, looking up from the newspaper. "I wish you would tell us what’s going on." Byers opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head and went back to his newspaper. Frohike burst into the lair. "Guys, heads up, I got a lead on the Teresa Reyes case." He made a beeline to his computer, pulling a slender CD jewel case out of his vest pocket. "I contacted-" He paused, looking at Byers’ project. "You’re clipping coupons?" "No wonder you’re still a virgin," Frohike muttered. Before Byers could retort, he went on. "Anyway, I contacted those idiots at T.I.Ts," Frohike grimaced. "To see if they could help with this," he held up the video tape Allende had sent to Scully. "Were they?" "Yeah, in more ways then one," Frohike said. "One, they need a space to rent out for a week. They’ve been floated out from CIA to ATF for routine drug surveillance in Tacoma Falls…" "Wow!" Langly said again. "That money will go a long way in the fund-age to find Yves." "ANYWAY," Frohike fumed as he placed a silvery compact disk into the DVD drive. "They had the equipment to take VHS tape and transfer it to digital, then burning it to a DVD-R. All I had to do to get them to do that for me was promise them that one of the days that they have the space was a freebie-day." "Yes," Frohike said, opening up the DVD program on his computer. Teresa Reyes’ blotched and teary face appeared on the screen. The Lone Gunmen were silenced for a minute. "She’s very pretty," Byers said quietly. "Yeah," Frohike said, muting the volume and making the speed of the DVD move very slowly. "Watch this," he said, moving aside so Byers and Langly could see better. Using a ruler as a pointer, he tapped it against the monitor gently, saying "Watch the eyes closely. Byers, as the former FCC guy aka narc, you may want to get a pad and pen. This is your specialty. Tell me if you get what I got when I watched this at with the T.I.Ts" Teresa Reyes’s image began to move very slowly. "Is that a glitch?" Langly asked, hardly daring to hope. "Or a nervous twitch? Her eyes blinking like that?" "H… E… L… P… M… E… H… O… L… L… Y… W… O… O… D…" Byers read back slowly. "That’s what I got too," Frohike said, springing into action. "I’ve got Dogbreath’s cellphone number somewhere in our database. Byers, I know Langly’s been trying to get a hold of Mulder. You keep calling him. Tell him what’s going on. Langly, get on priceline.com and start bidding." ** The next day Monday, May 6, 2002 Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 6:37 AM Pacific Time "Hey Agent Reyes." Langly blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair. "Actually Frohike’s the one that caught it." "Sure what?" "Hello Langly," Doggett as pleasantly as he could as he could at twenty to seven in the morning. "Good catch. Good job," he said sincerely. "It was Frohike," Langly muttered, looking at the floor. Reyes frowned, feeling the first empathic impulse in days. Langly was trying to close himself off from Doggett. Normally, Langly was scoring verbal points off of Doggett, constantly reminding him that he was not the same man as Fox Mulder. Now, it was as if Langly distinctly felt sorry for Doggett. Meanwhile, Doggett was making the introductions. "Special Agent Santiago Allende, Ringo Langly." "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Langly," Allende said warmly. "Thank you for coming out all this way to help." "Well, when we heard ‘bout your crime lab bein’ bombed, I figured you might need someone with decent kung fu to come help out," Langly said without guile. Allende looked at Doggett out of the corner of his eye. "Kung fu, huh?" "Well, we’ve got agents combing Hollywood inch by inch. Mr. Langly, you look tired, would you like to lie down for a while? We’ve got a couch in one of our break rooms?" Allende nodded and he and Doggett set off. "Langly," Reyes touched his arm. "What you need to tell Fox, does it have anything to do with John?" Langly shrugged. "It’s personal." Suddenly Reyes’ eyes widened as she remembered. **I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooooooonnnnnngggg jacket…** "This is about Starkweather," she whispered urgently. When Langly’s jaw dropped open, she said "You don’t believe it’s really Jerilyn back at home either, do you? DO you??" Reyes squeezed his arm affectionately. "We’ll talk later," she promised. "And we’ll talk to Fox as soon as we can." ** Later that morning Jerilyn Starkweather’s apartment 10:01 PM Eastern Standard Time Bravo peeped through the spy hole of her apartment door. Then undid the locks and let Carlos inside. "I brought you a gift," he said, holding up the cat carrier. "Oh, you shouldn’t have!" she exclaimed in an excited voice while thinking <<You really shouldn’t have.>> Caesar instantly began to yowl demonically. Carlos set the carrier down and opened the pet door. Caesar shot out of the carrier and instantly darted into the bedroom to hide in the closet. "He’s shy," she said flippantly. "Yeah," Carlos said, holding up his other hand. Blood trickled from the cat bites and scratches. "VERY shy." "He’s in quite a bit of trouble. He was trying to raise money so he can skip town with Samita Saint Claire and the kids." "Are you serious?" she said while thinking <<Good. Treacherous rat.>> "Yeah. He had a meeting with the lovely Marita Covarrubias. We missed Miss Covarrubias. However, after a duty marital visit to Samita, he slipped out after she fell asleep. And we caught him exchanging sensitive materials to a few spies from a radical Muslim extremist terrorist group that we’ve been trying to get our hands on for a little while now." Carlos told her how the Lone Gunmen discovered Teresa Reyes’ use of Morse code. Bravo felt her throat constrict in rage. <<Damn you, Rohrer, damn you!!!>> she seethed helplessly. <<I’m going to shove magnetite up your ass for this, I swear to God.>> "That was smart thinking on Teresa’s part," Bravo finally managed to croak out. "And smart of the Gunmen to catch it," Carlos said. "I would have never thought of it." "Mulder’s always said they were good. I haven’t met them myself yet, so I have to take his word for it." "Yeah," Bravo said while thinking <<Gunmen? Gunmen? Who the hell are these Lone Gunmen??? I’m going to kill my intel contact after I kill Rohrer.>> "Of course," he chuckled, "Forgot that you’d be less than thrilled with them." Bravo’s mouth fell open, then she recovered quickly. "Busted," she said sheepishly, then laughed in joking sort of a way. "I should have killed him when I had the chance." <<"Do I fucking know you?>> Carlos shook his head. "You know you can’t kill someone in cold blood. It’s not in your nature." He began tracing a design on top of her hand. Bravo’s toes curled. "I should have never sent you after the Cancer Man. I should have never sent you after Bravo." <<Ah ha, so it was you that sicked that bitch on me in Arizona>> Bravo thought. "I… um… don’t want to talk about that anymore," she said, changing the subject. "It’s in the past, it can’t be changed. Nothing can. We just… sorry, I’m getting trite." "You know what I mean, Bailey. You’re… you mean a lot to me. Always have. Always will." <<Time to tease>> Bravo thought with malevolent glee. "I wish things could have been different," she said slowly. "I wish things were different." "How so?" "I don’t know. I mean, to wish that things were different, means a lot of things that were good would have to be undone…" "Like Ben?" She nodded. "Yeah…" "You did look really happy… when you got married." "VERY little things." After a moment, Carlos said, "It’s your decision, but… Bailey-girl, leaving the X-Files won’t guarantee your safety." "I know," she said. "But it would diminish some of the threat, don’t you agree? Besides, if they wanted me dead…" she let her voice trail off. "What about the others?" he asked gently. "Mulder, Scully…. Doggett?" "How… are things with you and Doggett?" Carlos asked. She gave him a teary smile. "He cares about me. A lot. Maybe too much. And I… he means a lot to me too… but… he’s SO much older than me. Plus, he’s career-driven. He’s in line for Skinner’s seat when Skinner retires. And he’s got SO much baggage. He’s got issues with his family back in Georgia… and his ex-wife. And he’s still not over the death of his son. And… oh… It’s a mess," she said simply. "Of course it’s a mess. I’m involved." "No," she said looking at his hands again. "You just left." Bravo felt like she was Cupid, armed with poisoned arrows. "I’m still here," she told him. "So you must have done something right." "Yeah," Carlos said, reaching up to touch her face. "I must have…" He leaned into her and just as their lips touched, his cell phone rang. "Damn," he sighed, answering. "Carlos… yeah… yeah? Okay… be there in ten minutes." He looked at Bravo, pushing her long, loose hair away from her face. "I have to go." "Okay." "I’ll be back," he promised her. She nodded. "I count on that." She had no idea that was a catchphrase Starkweather always used with Doggett. Carlos grinned at her, then left. Bravo’s face fell. <<I wonder where to find these Lone Gunmen>> she wondered.
She went into the bedroom and grabbed the second to the last ‘emergency’ cell phones, a phone she could make a call to, then destroy the phone. Exiting the apartment, she locked the door behind her, oblivious to Caesar’s sudden yowling. There was not a drop of water or crumb of cat food from him. Score: Cat, three. Assassin, one. Bravo actually was not thinking about torturing Starkweather’s cat. She was thinking about the oblivious link to hooking her up with the Lone Gunmen. Scully. As she left her apartment, she dialed Rohrer’s message. "Head’s up," she said when he answered. "They know your location." "Your idiocy. The girl signaled to them by blinking out Morse code in the video tape. If you’re still in Hollywood, you better either beat feet or lay low." She didn’t wait for Rohrer’s response. Starkweather’s piece of shit car was parked along the curb. "Damn, no one stole it," she muttered as she cracked the phone in half and dropped it down a drain grate before getting into her car and driving to J. Edgar Hoover. ** A little later The X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC 11:26 AM Eastern Standard Time "Jerilyn," Scully put her cell phone down as Bravo walked into the office. "I was just about to call you." "True. Rather have a tall skinny nerd chase after me than a toad of a man. I’m going to give them a call. Did you need to talk to them?" Bravo pretended to dig in her jacket pocket. "What… the… oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I can’t find my phone. And I just got a new one too, figures." "Maybe you left it at home?" Scully asked helpfully. "Hope so… hey, can I use your phone?" "Thanks," Bravo said, scrolling through the numbers. Once she reached ‘LGM’, she quickly glanced at the number, memorizing it rapidly and then hit ‘call.’ "The Lone Gunmen," Byers answered politely. "Is Langly there?" "Quit being so formal, it’s Starkweather." Bravo had to make a judgment call and fast. She had no idea where the Lone Gunmen were based. However, if Starkweather had been there before, she would remember how to get there. Obviously Byers either didn’t know or didn’t remember Starkweather’s powerful intellect. She had to choose, and choose well. "Actually no," she said. Byers gave her simple directors from FBI Headquarters to their lair in Tacoma Falls. "And just ring the main bell." Besides, the only one who knew of her discrepancy would be dead by sundown anyway. "Have time for lunch, Scully?" Bravo asked, handing the cell phone back to her. "I could kill for a pizza." Meanwhile… Confianza Nadie Apartments 3101 Hollywood Boulevard Hollywood Hills, California 8:35 AM Eastern Standard Time Teresa Reyes lifted her hands up to protect her eyes from the blinding light as Rohrer opened the closet door. After making the video tapes, Rohrer had thrown her back inside the closet. Rohrer grabbed her by her shirt collar and yanked her up, dragging her out. "Stupid bitch," he sneered at her. "Morse code, huh? Cute. Very cute. I should blow your cute brains out but I still need for the moment."
Inside the van, wearing Kevlar vests and armed with FBI approved shotguns along with their service weapons, Doggett and Reyes sat with Allende, Malford and Benchly. Allende was running communications. Reyes clasped her hands tightly together and prayed that today would be the end, that they would be able to recover Teri. <<Please, God, please, just don’t let her be hurt, let her be okay, let me be able to take her home. Please, please, please God, let me get my baby sister out of this, mios Dios por favor…>> "Someone’s coming out of the apartment," Allende said lowly into his microphone speaker as Malford leaned closer to the surveillance monitors. "It’s our perp," he announced. "And… shit, he’s got the girl with." Rohrer had Teresa Reyes in front of him, as a shield. As he walked down the stairs, Allende asked the sharpshooter, "Do you have a clear shot?" "Shit," Malford said. "Now what?" Doggett and Reyes looked up at the monitors. Rohrer was walking right in the middle of the street. Civilians and undercover agents alike stopped to stare at the strange actions of a man who was holding a handcuffed girl to him tightly. "Oh, fuckin’ A, what the hell’s that crazy SOB doing?" Malford breathed. Allende said in an even quieter voice, "Louis, please. Quiet. Quiet now. All agents, make no move unless directed by me." "MONICA REYES!" Rohrer suddenly bawled out. "MONICA REYES, SHOW YOURSELF! I KNOW YOU’RE HERE!" "No, Mon," he said. "You’re not s’pposed to be here. ‘Member? You quit the FBI. Sit tight." "What are you going to do?" Reyes asked desperately. "I’m gonna try to buffalo ‘im ‘til the sharpshooter can get a clear shot." "Shit," Doggett said just before he left the van. "Allende, see what you can do to get those people outta there." Rohrer smiled nastily at Doggett. "Oh John. You were the only one in our corps who swallowed the credo "Semper Fi" whole. You were always a terrible liar. I know Reyes didn’t quit. Just as I know the X-Files are still alive and kicking." "To stoop to your vernacular, good agent Doggett, bullshit," Rohrer’s nasty smile got nastier. "And I can prove it." He pointed his gun in the air and fired once, then pointed it back at Teresa Reyes. Inside the van, upon hearing the gun shot, Benchly pulled out his Sig Sauer and shot Malford in head, then aimed at Allende. Before Allende had time to draw his weapon, Benchly fired, clipping him in the shoulder . As Allende fell off his seat, Reyes pulled her own gun out, but Benchly batted it out of her hands, and then grabbed her by her hair, shoving his gun into her cheek. "Let’s go," he told her roughly, pulling her out of the van. At the sight of her sister, Teresa began screaming hysterically. "Moni! Moni! Oh God, no, please, don’t hurt her!" Meanwhile undercover agents broke character and either began herding pedestrians away from the line of fire or surrounding Rohrer, guns out. Doggett looked over his shoulder. Saw Benchly pulling Reyes along by her shoulder-length tresses, keeping his gun pointed at her at all times. "Oh no," he said hopelessly. "See, truth is, John, you and the Federal Bureau of Investigation haven’t cooperated with my demands at all. You have one last chance to redeem yourself."
<<"Are you through wi’ me? I’m an FBI agent 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.">> "You have a choice to make, Agent Doggett. You let me and Benchly leave here with Teresa Reyes and both Teresa and Monica get to die another day. Try and stop, and they die now. While you watch." The other agents dropped their guns and made room for Rohrer to leave. Rohrer walked slowly, purposefully towards Benchly and Reyes. As soon as Rohrer reached Benchly, Benchly threw Reyes to the ground, wrenched Teresa from Rohrer and tossed her into the backseat of the Geo Storm that had been parked in a fire lane. Rohrer and Benchly got into the car and drove away quickly. Doggett rushed over to Reyes as she sat up. She was weeping. Kneeling beside her, he wrapped his long arms around her lanky frame and started rocking her back and forth, ignoring the other agents milling around, confused at what just transpired. "Shh, shh," he consoled her. "It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay…" A little later… The X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC 1:01 PM Eastern Standard Time The phone rang. "Scully." "Skinner already told you?" "I don’t like it Mulder!" Scully burst out. "It doesn’t make any sense!" "Then I’m coming with you." The Lone Gunmen’s Lair 1:40 PM Eastern Standard Time "Welcome, gentlemen," Byers said cordially as he allowed in T.I.Ts team from the CIA. "It’s good to see you again," he lied politely. He was flanked by three other men. Byers recognized Martin King and Eugene Lipinsky. He didn’t recognize the tall thin man behind Lipinsky. "I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?" "We’ve heard about you too, Mr. Byers," Golden told him as he ran his fingers through his long blond hair. "Modeski’s mentioned you to me a few times." Golden shook his head. "Not recently. She dropped off the face of the earth in 1999." Byers could hear the roar of traffic in the background. "Where are you?" Byers covered mouthpiece of the phone. "Gentlemen, something’s come up. My friend’s van broke down. I have to go get him." "Wanna borrow our car?" Presley offered graciously. Relieved, Byers said "That would be great! Thank you!" He uncovered the mouthpiece. "Frohike, I’ll be there in just a little bit… I’ll be in a… um, Mr. Presley, what do you drive?" "What color is it?" Frohike yelled at him as cars, trucks and semis roared past him. "What color is it?" Byers asked. "Pink." "Trust me," Byers said. "You’ll see me. I’ll be there as soon as possible." He hung up the phone. "Make yourselves at home. Oh! And if you could do me a favor?" "Agent Starkweather is on her way here, I believe you remember her?" "Scary bitch," Presley added. "ANYWAY, could you let her in, explain what happened and tell her Frohike and I will be back soon as possible?" Licking his lips, Golden asked, "Ah… who’s Starkweather?" Byers shook his head. "Her bark is worse than her bite… although, her bite’s pretty bad." he added, cringing as he remembered their first meeting. As requested by Mulder, he was in the process of bugging the apartment she shared with her then husband. Starkweather had discovered him lurking on her balcony. She reacted with her usual style and grace. She had pointed a gun to his head and told him to get his ass inside her apartment and tell her who made him wire her apartment. She also bequeathed him with the nickname "Monkey Boy" for some odd reason. Frohike and Langly had tacked on "Virgin" in front of it. Byers sighed as he walked out the door and to the behemoth pink car waiting for him outside. <<With friends like these, I sure don’t need enemies>> he though dismally as he got into the car. Five minutes after Byers pulled away, a white Dodge Dynasty pulled in front of the building. Bravo stepped out of the car. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. A giant black leather trench coat enveloped her. Shiny black boots peeped from underneath the coat. She had a pair of black wrap around sunglasses on. She looked like an extra from "The Matrix." Only she knew more than kung-fu. Entering the warehouse, she wandered around a little bit before she figured out where the entrance door was. She knocked, and then stepped away from the door, reaching into her pockets and pulling out a pair of black leather gloves. She slipped them on and waited. The TITs did not hear her knocking at first. Golden was busy getting on line, putting on a pair of trendy black framed glasses while King and Presley were fighting over the correct way of setting up the surveillance equipment. Lipinsky came out of the small room that the Lone Gunmen used as a kitchenette. He was carrying a big bag of Doritos and a can of Sprite. "Is somebody gonna get the door?" "Scary bitch alert, scary bitch alert," King joked, unlocking the multitude of locks on the door.
"Agent Starkweather," he said. "Great to see you agai-" Bravo reached inside her leather jacket and pulled out a Glock 30, shoved it into King’s face and fired. Flesh and bone and blood splattered on to her face, but that did not deter her in the least. She pushed King’s body out of her way and opened fire on everyone else in the Lone Gunmen’s lair. Presley picked up a computer monitor and threw it at her as Golden and Lipinsky made a run for the door. Bravo ducked the flying computer screen easily enough, then reached into her pocket and chucked one of her silver ninja stars, one of her nasty four point stars in his direction. She did not look behind her as she followed Golden and Lipinsky. The gurgling noises that Presley made just before he collapsed let her know that the star was imbedded in his throat. Golden and Lipinsky sprinted down the stairs. "Do you have a cell phone?" Lipinsky gasped as they ran. Golden reached into his pocket but his fear caused him to drop the phone. It bounced down the stairs, breaking apart at the bottom of the stairs. From the top flight of stairs, Bravo peered over the railing and watched the two men flee down the stairs. She shoved the Glock back into her holster. With a weird leapfrog move, she pulled herself up on to the railing. She stood on the railing as if it was a balance beam, slowly walking, inching towards where the railing started to decline. She reached into her coat again but this time pulled out a wicked twelve inch combat knife, a Commando styled fighting knife, the blade black as coal. Then, as if she was on a skateboard instead of just her own two feet, she made a small leap and started to slide down the banister in a crouch. "What is that noise?" Golden asked when he heard the bizarre sound of boot soles scraping down an old metal railing. Her coat fanned out behind her like a demon’s cloak. Her blond hair looked white in this strange lighting. Her face was streaked with blood and pulpy tissue. She slid down the railing easily. As if she was not human but rather a comic book villainess or a video game rogue. She then propelled herself off the banister and lunged for them. Golden turned to run again but Lipinsky was still frozen in fear. He jerked his arms up to protect his face but that did not matter to Bravo. She slashed through the meat of his arms and then buried the knife in his belly, leaving him to die slowly as she got up to search for Golden. Golden made it outside. Unreasonably, he felt safer standing the broad daylight. <<Bad guys aren’t allowed to hunt in the daylight. Evil can not survive in the light, right?>> he thought desperately as he ran towards Starkweather’s car. Bravo stood in the door way. "Hey, lover boy." That hesitation cost him his life. The bullet met his head when he was less than a foot away from Starkweather’s car. Bravo lowered her gun, feeling satisfied but not completed. There was still work to do. Bodies to hide. Evidence to destroy. The tedious burdens of being an assassin. It wasn’t always fun and games. <<But at least>> she thought in relief as she walked over to Golden’s body and grabbed his ankles. <<Blondie here’s dead. And the others. Have no idea who these Lone Gunmen were, but at least they’ve been wiped out before becoming a problem.>> CIA Headquarters Washington DC 3:15 PM Eastern Standard Time A solemn Marine let Carlos into the cell where they held Blade Connor. Connor looked the worse for wear. Dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, he fidgeted with the shackle chains that linked the handcuffs to the padlocked chain belt around his waist. He was barefoot, ankles also shackled. His one leg jittered as he continued to twist his chains. He looked totally and utterly pathetic. "Connor," Carlos said, "you’re starting to piss me off." Carlos snorted. "Boy, you sure don’t follow up on your spy movies, do you? This is CIA. We make things disappear. Go bye-bye. And I’m tempted to bye-bye your ass if you don’t start telling us just what the fuck is going on." "Yeah, and you were ONLY selling security secrets to a terrorist group." "You don’t understand," Connor cried out futilely as Carlos turned his back on him and signaled to the Marine to let him out of the cell. "You’re making a mistake!! More people are going to die if you don’t let me go!" As Carlos started to leave, Connor cried out "This is a set up for Mulder!" Carlos paused. "Now you said something that interests me." He told the Marine to wait a moment. "Keep talkin’, Blade." Connor said "Mulder was never meant to come back from his abduction. The rebels freed him and left him for Jeremiah Smith and Absalom the Prophet to take care of. Only the Visitors discovered the treachery and took Jeremiah Smith instead. Forced him to heal the Cancer Man of his emphysema so he could take an active part of what was left of the Syndicate. It was very very smart of the Admiral Bailey to get Mulder that job as Deputy Mayor. No one would notice the disappearance of an unpopular FBI agent, but the disappearance of the Deputy Mayor for the National’s capital would be VERY big news." Connor took a deep breath. "His high profile job protected not only himself, but his also his family."
Connor looked up at Carlos. "They see Agent Starkweather as a mistake. And they want to take that mistake back. Just like all the children generated from the Eden Project were considered mistakes… except for one." "Starkweather." *** Later 7:01 PM Eastern Standard Time Hunting always made Bravo ravenously hungry at the end of the day. She had stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and ordered a bucket of chicken, Original Reason, a side of mashed potatoes with gravy, a side of corn, a side of cole slaw, two biscuits and a Pepsi. She did not choose KFC because she particularly cared for it. She did not eat for pleasure but for fuel. She could eat crêpes dusted with honey and powdered sugar one day, leaves and grass the next and not be fazed by the taste of either one. There was one time during an assignment where she lived off dog food for four days. Her body burned an unbelievable amount of calories. She needed carbohydrates and sugar for energy. It was just the way she was built. And the popular fast food restaurant was close by Starkweather’s apartment so Bravo just pulled in and ordered her evening meal.
Bravo let herself into the apartment, pleased with herself. There was no visible trace of the murdered at the Lone Gunmen Lair. She found the surveillance cameras and stole the video. The bodies had been neatly discarded of. How convenient for the Gunmen to have their lair near a salvage yard. Bodies put into a trunk of a car being ready to be compressed, problem solved. She had debated on whether or not burning the warehouse down but decided against it. Didn’t want to draw Mulder’s attention to the disappearance of his friends quite yet. Let him wonder why they haven’t been calling lately first. She was back in the jeans, green sweater and sneakers she put on to visit Scully. Her assassin clothes were safely hidden in the trunk of Starkweather’s car. When she stopped at the seedy truck stop to change her clothes, she also had called one of her uplines to get a status update on the current mission. Rohrer was in trouble with the Syndicate, he had publicly flaunted himself but he was not going to be punished right now. He still had the upper hand. Fox Mulder had fallen for the bait. He was on a plane to Los Angeles. Bravo’s order was to stay put, keep cultivating Scully’s trust and wait until she received the order to strike. A trucker had looked at her funny while she was on the payphone. She had not changed out of her leather coat and cat suit. She had given him a coy smile, crooked her finger and coaxed him into bringing her to his truck. The trucker had thought her picked up a lot lizard. That was his last thought. A small blurb would appear on the news three days later about the abandoned truck. The trucker would never be found. With a sigh of satisfaction, Bravo placed her food on the coffee table and sat down. Something moist and lumpy squelched underneath her. With an uncharacteristic squeal, Bravo leaped up off the couch and tried to look at the seat of her jeans to determine what she sat in. Then she looked at the couch and saw the orange mound of cat vomit she had sat on. "Arggghh…" she groaned in disgust. Just then, Caesar streaked out of nowhere, knocked the food off the table, snagged a chicken leg and darted out of the living room again. Score: Cat, four. Assassin, one. ** Tuesday, May 8, 2002 Special Agent Santiago Allende’s office Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 1:33 AM Pacific Time Paula Cole was playing instead of Nat King Cole. "…Go to hell lions, tigers and bears -- I'm not afraid Mulder rapped on the door before opening it. "They told me you’d be here." He turned the volume of the CD player down. It wasn’t the lack of makeup or the unkempt hair that Mulder noticed but the bags under her hazelnut eyes and the paleness of her face.
"I’m here," Mulder said, walking inside of the small office and sitting down in front of the desk. "Where’s Doggett?" "Shouldn’t you be sleeping?" Reyes nodded. "He’s some where; he said he wanted to talk to you." "I’ll find him in a bit. Reyes, you and I need to talk." "You won’t believe me." "You won’t want to believe me." "And Rowan," Mulder added. "How is she doing?" Mulder nodded. "Give me a copy of the case file. I can fax it to Scully’s. She’s got a program on her home computer that she can receive faxes on that." "Santiago?" "Agent Allende." "Fine. The bullet only nicked the bone. He’s very lucky." Mulder didn’t hear a word of what she said. "Reyes, is this Rowan?" he held up a photograph. "Yes." Reyes heard the urgency in his voice but did not understand why. "She told us seven." Mulder looked at the picture again. "Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God." He stood up quickly. "Reyes, go find Doggett. I’m going to go find Langly and you and Doggett meet us in front of the building. I’m in a Mustang GT. Black." "I’ll explain on the way. But we have to go get Rowan now. She’s not safe there." Mulder said as he backed out of the office, pulling out his cell phone. "Come on, come on," Mulder muttered as he walked down the hall, listening to the phone on the other end ring as he searched for Langly. Finally a drowsy voice answered "Hello?" "Call Scully," came the sleepy response. "I can’t." Mulder replied. "I know who Rowan Falsch is and I need to move her to Washington DC now." All Skinner asked was: "What do you need from me?" "I need you to be able to meet us at the airport when Rowan arrives. I’ll be flying back with Rowan, but then I’ve got to turn around and go back to L.A." "Alright, call me on my cell and let me know when you and the girl will be flying in," Skinner said as he hung up the phone without saying goodbye. ** A little later An undisclosed FBI safehouse Near the Los Angeles Field Office 2:15 AM Pacific Time The foursome looked like a formidable force as they walked down the hall. Reyes and Mulder looked like twins as they both wore faded jeans, white t-shirts and black leather jackets. However, Reyes’ shirt was v-necked and her jeans low-riders. Plus she had pulled her chocolate brown hair back into a severe ponytail. Both she and Mulder had the same look of rage and resolve in their eyes. Doggett meanwhile wore a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. He hadn’t had time to shave and a fine sheen of blond stubble shone on his cheeks and chin. His forehead and eyebrows creased with concern, anger and pain. His re-bruised ribs were bothering him and it hurt a little to take deep breaths but he didn’t make a peep about that. Even Langly, despite his thick black glasses, ratty jeans, worn-out Ramones shirt with an FBI Guest past clipped to it and greasy blond hair pulled back in a pony tail, looked fierce. Normally it was a laughable sight when Langly tried to look mean. But the look of determination on his thin face even made him look menacing. All of them hurried down the hall. After hearing Mulder’s realization about Rowan on the car ride to the safehouse they realized that time was of the essence. Langly and Reyes had been stunned into silence. Doggett seemed to take the news hard. But all he said was, "Mulder, I’m sorry. I shoulda known." Mulder didn’t even knock on Rowan’s door. He just went in, waking Dr. Fix out of a sound sleep. "Can you help me?" he said, pointing at the sleeping girl. "I need all that stuff," he pointed at the IV drip, oxygen mask and heart monitor attached to the girl, "Taken off of her." "I’m the child’s stepfather," Mulder said brusquely, pulling his CIA identification out of his back pocket. "And I’m taking her home." "Now?" Dr. Fix’s plump face puckered up in anxiety. "Now," Mulder said. "Her mother is a doctor. We’ll take care of her." As Dr. Fix proceeded to pull needles out of the child’s body, Mulder knelt beside her, smoothing her strawberry blond hair out of her face. "Hi Emily," he crooned to her. "Do you remember me?" The girl opened her eyes, blue eyes, bright with tears and confusion. "My name’s Rowan," she corrected him. The minute Dr. Fix finished administering to Rowan Mulder wrapped her up in the hospital blanket like a burrito, then picked her up. She was light, too light for a seven year old child. Doggett, Reyes and Langly were waiting for them outside in the hall. Langly was on Doggett’s cell phone. "Thank you," he said hanging up as Mulder came out of the room. "United Airlines Flight 776, direct flight from LAX to Ronald Reagan International. Leavin’ at 3:45 AM Pacific time." As Reyes and Doggett took their guns out of their holsters and un-safetied them, an angry feminine voice yelled out "Wait! Wait!" They turned their heads but did not stop walking even though they saw the portly pediatrician hustling towards them. "Dr. Fix," Mulder called out to her. "We appreciate everything you’ve done, but we have to go now." Mulder shook his head. "I don’t either. Dr. Fix, you stay here." To the others, he said, "Let’s go." Just then, Rowan began to gasp for air. "Oh God," Mulder cried out. "Emily! Emily!" Dr. Fix pushed past Langly and Reyes. "Give her here!" she cried out just as Rowan stopped breathing. She put her on the floor and began administering CPR to the girl. After a few harrowing moments, Rowan started to breath on her own again but her face was a dangerous shade of gray. "You want to travel alone with this girl?" she barked at her. Mulder relented. "Alright, Dr. Fix, you win," he scooped Rowan up again. "Let’s go." They sprinted to the hidden garage underneath the safe house. "My car is right there," she pointed to a Volkswagen Cabrio convertible. She handed the keys to Doggett. "It would be easier to have two cars. I’d like a way to get home after I come back from D.C." she said as Mulder handed her Rowan and walked around to the driver’s side of his rental car. Langly got into to the back seat. Reyes and Doggett, Doggett driving, got into the Cabrio and waited for Mulder’s car to pull out first. "Damn short people," Doggett muttered as he adjusted the seat to his height and then started the Cabrio up, following Mulder’s car very closely. As they drove down the deserted streets towards the airport, Dr. Fix hoisted Rowan over the backseat to Langly. "Let her rest back there," she told him curtly. "And watch her breathing." "Her name," Dr. Fix said curtly. "Is Rowan." "She was never yours in the first place," Dr. Fix said coldly. "And my people named her Rowan long ago. Or at least, in your tongue, that’s what her name is translated to." Dr. Fix lunged for him, grabbing his face and reaching inside his leather jacket for his gun. As Doggett and Reyes stopped behind the Mustang, they noticed strange movement inside the car. "What’n the hell’s goin’ on?" he drawled in confusion as the Mustang convertible top began to fold down. Before the top was completely down, Langly’s body shot out of the car as if he was a football. "Holy shit!" Doggett said as Reyes bolted from the car to run to Langly, who had landed very hard onto the sidewalk. Just as Reyes left the car, the convertible top was completely down. Doggett saw Dr. Fix and Mulder struggling. Mulder looked like he was getting his ass kicked. Doggett drew his gun and was about to get out of the Cabrio when Dr. Fix grabbed Mulder by the throat and slung him out of the car, then sliding back down in the driver’s seat and peeling away from the stop sign. Mulder landed near Langly’s prostrate body. Doggett cursed the fact that the Cabrio was not an automatic as he shifted into gear and pursued the Mustang. "Got-dammit it," he said, following the Mustang through red lights and intersections. Suddenly, the Mustang stopped dead in the middle of the road. Doggett quickly swerved but he had overcompensated. The little Cabrio veered out of the way of the parked Mustang and slammed into a telephone pole. Dr. Fix looked over her shoulder. When she detected no movement from the crumpled car, she lifted her foot off the brake, gave the car a little gas and casually drove away. "Where are we going?" a weak little voice said from the backseat. Dr. Fix looked down at the child in the back. Her face began to change, becoming more masculine. When the Alien Bounty Hunter resumed his normal human identity, he spoke to Rowan without uttering one word. <<You’re safe now, Rowan>> he told her. <<I am bringing you back to your people now. You will not have to exist amongst these inferiors again.>> Rowan believed him. And smiled. ** Later that morning Cedars-Sinai Emergency Room 3:55 AM Pacific Time "Didn’t I just leave this party," Doggett groaned as the ER doctor poked and prodded him around his rib case. He yelped out in pain when the doctor’s fingertips grazed the huge black and blue splotches on his lower left side.
"I want to get a few X-rays down but I would definitely say they’re broken," the doctor said dispassionately. "I’ll get you some Tylenol for the pain. But I want you to keep trying for deep breaths and coughing. We want to make sure you don’t get a collapsed lung on top of it." "I’m going to go get an X-ray room scheduled for you. Sit tight. I’ll be right back," the doctor promised him as he picked up Doggett’s charts and hurried out of Doggett’s examining room. Doggett slid off the examining table slowly, wincing as he got down. Cradling his broken ribs, he crept down the ER hall, peeping into rooms until he saw a familiar face. "Mul-duh." "What’s the word," wearily Doggett asked as he leaned against the doorway. "It’s broken," Mulder groaned, putting the ice pack back on his face. "They’re getting me some drugs to cut the pain. I told them to just get alcohol, it’d be cheaper, but the nurse said booze would increase the swelling. God knows it doesn’t need to get any bigger." "Whattabout Langly?" "What about the little girl?" Doggett asked softly. Mulder shook his head. "They found the car. Dr. Fix and Emily disappeared without a trace." "Like I said, Doggett, how could you have known? The last time either Scully or I saw Emily, she was three years old." "I saw Scully in her eyes," Mulder muttered. Doggett folded his lips together tight. "Have you… told Scully what happened?" Just then, Reyes walked in. "I’m sorry to disturb you," she said quietly. She was trembling head to toe. "But I just got a phone call from Rohrer." "He told me where to… ‘deliver" Mulder… to use his words." "The Hearst Mansion," Reyes said softly. "Noon. Today." ***
Later… Jerilyn Starkweather’s apartment 9:01 PM Eastern Standard Time Bravo had just gotten out of the shower when Starkweather’s land line rang. Wrapping a towel around her body, she sprinted from the bathroom to grab the phone. "Hello?" "What in the hell?" Bravo said out loud as she went back to the bedroom to finish toweling off and to get dressed. Caesar sat on the futon, hissing at her the entire time. "Fuck off, cat from hell," Bravo hissed back at him, pulling a clingy sweater of Starkweather’s over her head. She purposely didn’t put on a bra. She quickly put jeans and socks on, then tied her wet hair up in a heavy bun in the back of her head. Stabbing herself with hair pins, she secured the bun, then slipped on a pair of loafer. "ARGGH!" she yelped, taking her foot out of the shoe again. Her sock was dripping with cat vomit. "Are you bulimic or something?" she asked the cat. The damn cat seemed to smile at her. Score: Cat, five. Assassin, one. Just as Bravo peeled off the disgusting wet sock, there was a knock at her door. "Great," she said, throwing the socks into the hamper, running to let Lux Carlos inside. Carlos had his heavy dreadlocks pulled back in a pony tail. Except for that, he looked to be all business. "Pack a bag for a few days," he told her "and come with me now." "No idea," Carlos said truthfully, "especially since we found the body of the real Dr. Sonia Fix later this morning. Forensics determine she’s been rotting since the twenty-nine." "Tell me what you need?" **
The X-Files Office J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC 10:13 AM Eastern Standard Time Scully looked up from her computer screen, startled at Carlos and Bravo’s appearance. "We need to talk," he said brusquely. Bravo sat down at Starkweather’s old desk. "What is going on?" "I got a call from Mulder this morning, he’s alright," Carlos said, noticing how quickly she paled at the sound of his name. "But he said we needed our help. He needs us to move Samita and her children to a different safehouse as soon as possible." When Scully asked why, Carlos brought her up to speed as to what happened to Rowan Falsch. Gritting her teeth, she said "Why didn’t anyone tell us about this before?" "Scully," Carlos said, interrupting. "Do you have any angels left in the Bureau that can help us, or did Mulder piss everyone off?" "There’s something else that Mulder wanted you to do," Carlos said carefully. Scully’s azure eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, guessing Mulder’s request. "NO." "Like how Samita and her children are only in hiding until the threat was neutralized?" Scully retaliated. "How long has she been staring at those four walls? When was the last time her children got to play outside? No. Forget it." "You can’t protect him," Carlos said. "Let us help you." "And hiding him as if he was a freak is a better option?" Scully yelled back to him. "Carlos, I am not completely helpless either. I AM a federal agent. I protect people everyday. I think I can protect my son." "If it’s a mistake, Agent Carlos," Scully said, pulling her blazer on with a jerk, "then it’s mine to live with. I am that boy’s mother. Don’t you ever, EVER forget that. It is my responsibility to decide what is best for him. And to protect him the best way I deem fit. There are too many spies and traitors, Carlos. I feel better if William stayed in my home. With me." Bravo followed the disagreement like a hawk hovering over rabbits skimming through the fields, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. When Scully made the crude comment about Mulder’s parenting skills, Bravo pounced. "Scully, that’s not fair, you know that Mulder is the only hope we’ve got left for Teresa Reyes," Bravo said. "YOU’RE defending Mulder!?!?!?!" Scully squawked. Carlos mumbled "Wonders never cease." "We’re working on that!" Carlos defended himself. "But Scully, you can’t be stupid about this either. So let’s kill two birds with one stone. Because I know Mulder’s next request would be for me to go into hiding as well. And people will be flying on Air Pig before that happens. So here’s what I suggest. How about I just stay with Scully until the situation in California is resolved and Mulder comes home?" Scully frowned. "I’ll think about it," she said. "Think fast," Bravo said. "Because I think the situation is escalating." "I don’t want your cat around William," Scully admitted. "I’m afraid he’ll bite him." "I’m going to go speak to Skinner now," Scully said. "Jerilyn, can I expect you at the house after work then?" Jesus, this was too easy. Bravo just hoped that Rohrer wouldn’t fuck anything up. *** Later that day Ten miles away from the "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Santa Lucia Mountains, California 10:13 AM Eastern Standard Time
Mulder, along with Reyes, Doggett and the unflappable Agent Allende, were sitting in an FBI surveillance vehicle a few miles away from William Hearst’s pleasure palace. All looked worse for wear. Doggett, due to the un-abating pain in his broken ribs, was very pale. Allende kept rubbing his shoulder where he had been shot. Reyes’ complexion was nearly gray from lack of sleep and overdose of guilt while Mulder’s face was a bright rainbow of colors, mostly blues and purples. He adjusted the headset on his ears better. "Mul-duh, I hope you gotta plan," Doggett growled at him. "One that don’t involve gettin’ the shit beat out of me," he added under his breath as he turned to peer out the windshield of the van. Looked up at the rolling, intimidating emerald hills where publishing mogul William Randolph Hearst chose to display his decadence and muttered "Jesus," as his cold blue eyes assessed the Spanish styled mansion nestled away at the top. Mulder held up his hand, signaling for silence. "Copy," he said into the headset’s skinny boom microphone. "They’ve got a location on Teresa." Reyes asked with a calm that surprised her. "Where?" "Near the Billiard Room," Mulder told her. "In the big house." "Are they able to get her out?" Allende asked, his calm surpassing all. Doggett couldn’t help but admire him. After all, when Doggett had learned about shadow governments and Super Soldiers, he had first laughed out right, then ranted about how he thought they were all insane. Allende had taken the information, digested it and went about his work. "Do you think you can get her out?" Mulder murmured into the microphone. "Negative," the CIA agent whispered into his hidden microphone as he pretended to empty a trash can while Rohrer, the traitorous Agent Benchly and two replicants marched past them. "Too many." "Shit," Mulder said, his foot tapping nervously as he wrenched his brain for a solution. "What is it?" Allende asked. "My contact said there’s too many." Mulder swiveled in his chair, facing him. "But then, with this kind of terrorists, one is enough." "This ain’t political," Doggett argued. "It’s personal. It’s against us." "To some, politics are personal." "I thought you knew me better’n that. I don’t want any flashy heroics. I just wanna get that girl outta there away from that monster. But with all those damn replicants prowlin’ around, I don’t see how we got a chance, even with the SWAT and FBI backin’ us. So whatever you’re thinking Mulder, you better spit it out. And fast." "Mulder, no," Reyes said. "It’ll be alright, Reyes," Mulder mumbled distractedly as he finished strapping the bullet-resistant vest to his body and reached for his sweater. "The hell it’s alright!" Doggett shouted. "Dammit, Mulder, you can’t keep doin’ this. You can’t keep running into the front lines of action without a thought to Scully or William if something would happen to you." "Mul-duh," Doggett said seriously. "When I was a cop, I didn’t run suicide missions. They ain’t just gonna kidnap-" "Mulder," Reyes said quietly, total opposite of Doggett. "I don’t want you dying because of me." Allende said nothing, but just crossed his arms and lowered his head, as if he was standing over a grave site after the funeral services.
Meanwhile Room 345B Cedars-Sinai Hospital 10:29 AM Pacific Time Somebody was tapping him on top of his head. Langly’s eyes fluttered open. Without his thick eyeglasses, he was legally blind. "Fro?" "Try again." "Oh yeah, Frohike said to give these to you. He said they were your spare pair." He handed Langly a pair of eyeglasses. The prescription was a bit outdated, but it was a vast improvement over being blind. "Jimmy?" Langly sat up in bed a little bit. "What are you doin’ here?" "Yeah, Mulder said. Mulder called Frohike and Byers to tell ‘em what happened to you and if you knew what you had to talk to him about. They said no and that they had just found out that those TIT guys were found dead yesterday." "They were getting ready to smash a car at the salvage yard near your guys’ place. Somehow, the trunk popped open and they were inside, all dead. Get this, you know the hacker, GlorInfidel? Jack Golden?" "Did Mulder say anything else?" Langly asked fearfully. "Yeah… that whatever you know… if Mulder don’t come back, tell Scully or Skinner." *** Later… "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Casa del Sol Santa Lucia Mountains, California 11:15 AM Eastern Standard Time The tour guide was all sunshine and smiles. She pointed at the elaborate moldings on the doors before leading them into one of the many ornate guest houses Hearst had built for his personal playground. The tourists oohed and ahhed and snapped pictures. Mulder and Reyes hung back from the group, alert and wary. Mulder’s face ached but he dared not take any medication to dull the pain just in case it also dulled his mind. "Come on guys," the tour guide, a pretty young woman, cajoled them, "Keep up with everyone else!" She led the tour group inside the elaborate guesthouse. Mulder and Reyes followed, still not close enough to the group. "I know her," Mulder murmured to Reyes as the rest of the tourists began to mill around the gorgeous courtyard. "Who is she?" she whispered, pretending to point out an architectural wonder to him. "I’ll introduce you," Mulder said, putting his arm around Reyes and leading her to the tour guide. "This will buy more time for Allende and Doggett." ***** Meanwhile "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Casa Grande Santa Lucia Mountains, California 11:17 AM Eastern Standard Time "Welcome to the Casa Grande!" the tour guide announced to a group consisting of a history professor from Harvard, a pair of newlyweds, a grizzled old couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary, a pair of middle aged parents arguing with their three teenaged children while trying to tend to their late-in-life baby who screamed "Boobie!" the entire time, two older but not elderly ladies, a freelance writer and two federal agents. Of course, no one knew that the federal agents were federal agents. "Showtime," Doggett grunted under his breath. Allende nodded. Doggett again had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on to conceal his features. Allende also had a ball cap on along with a black windbreaker, white t-shirt and loose Levi jeans. And a small yet tasteful diamond stud in his right ear. His hair, normally neatly combed back, hung in his eyes now. Doggett, who was beginning to think Allende lived and breathed in a suit, was surprised how the causal clothes changed his appearance. Allende also hadn’t shaved, which made him look less like a fed. More like a scruffy college kid. "You think this plan is as insane as I think it is?" Doggett muttered, pretending to be interested in the tour guide’s lecture as they started walking through the mansion. "Absolutely," Allende responded with a straight face. Mulder’s brilliant idea had been to use himself as bait, to draw the replicant soldiers away from where Teresa Reyes was imprisoned. Reyes insisted on going with him. After all, they were after her just as much as Mulder. But she didn’t tell them why they pursued her. Doggett had nagged and carped and flat out bitched at them for being "so god-damned suicidally stupid!" But in the end, he had been overruled. It was up to him and Allende to retrieve Teresa and get her the hell out of there while Mulder and Reyes drew the replicants’ attention. Mulder finally appeased him by slapping a syringe and a vial of crystal clear fluid in his hand. "Here. Our own Kryptonite. Sorta." "It’s the serum I take," Mulder had explained. "To control the alien virus that’s still in my system." Allende asked for a re-cap. Mulder, as quickly yet thoroughly as he could, told him how after he had been returned from his own abduction experience, how, even though the doctors proclaimed him miraculously well, became violently ill. The virus he had been exposed to in the late Nineties and again in 2000 when he was abducted; was still in his system, threatening to overpower his body and mind. The serum, created by the CIA, kept him well. "It’s like insulin for extraterrestrial diabetes," Mulder had said with a grin. "That’s no where remotely funny," Doggett had fumed. "Look," Mulder had said. "It’s a theory of mine. What if the virus that I have in my system is the same virus that turns humans into alien hybrids?" Doggett now kept his eyes and ears peeled. He and Allende were wired, as to keep in communication with Mulder, Reyes and the rest of the CIA and FBI skulking around the castle. Doggett devoutly hoped that the other agents did not run into Rohrer or any of his minions. God only knew what that bastard could do to them. Hell, his throat and ribs still fucking hurt after being used like a hacky sack by not just Rohrer but by the thing posing as Dr. Fix. Doggett quickly ducked his head, pretending to consult his map when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rohrer, dressed like a security guard, being trailed by the traitor Benchly walking down the stairs. Doggett moved closer to the tour group and slouched a little so his six-foot-two frame wouldn’t give him away. Rohrer bumped against Allende as he said lowly to Benchly "If Mulder and Agent Reyes are here, so is Agent Doggett. Keep an eye out for him." Doggett didn’t know whether or not to feel relief that Rohrer and Benchly passed him without incident or to feel fear because they were on their way to intercept Mulder and Reyes. *** Later… "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Casa del Sol Santa Lucia Mountains, California 11:15 AM Eastern Standard Time Her name badge read ‘Brianna Swanfield.’ Her back was turned to them as she explained to a pair of tourists from Brazil that Casa del Sol was built into the side of the hillside below the main house so the castle’s view would not be obscured by a guesthouse. Rudely, Mulder tapped Brianna on the shoulder. "Hi there!" he gave her a suddenly disarming smile. "Can we borrow you for a second?" He released his hold on Reyes and put his arm around Brianna, guiding her away from the group. "Sorry!" Reyes said belatedly as she trotted after Mulder. The Brazilian tourists frowned and grumbled "Merda arrogante," as they walked off. "Um… yes," the tour guide was slightly disconcerted. "Can I help you? "How’s your brother Kevin?" "In October of 1993," Mulder said, his eyes never leaving her face, "Scully and I went to Sioux City, Iowa to investigate the disappearance of a young girl named Ruby Morris. She had vanished into thin air when she, her mother Darlene and her brother Kevin were camping at Lake Okoboji. Kevin acted as a conduit. He would make drawings in a series of ones and zeros. When all the drawings were put together, it would form a mosaic, a picture. Of you, Ruby. You returned and your body exhibited symptoms of being weightless for an extended period of time. But your mother, fearful of government retribution, took you, your brother and fled. No one has heard from any of you… until now." Mulder took a step closer to her. "What do you have to do with this? Are you working within the conspiracy to protect your family? Or have you turned your back on your family and humanity itself to save your own ass." In an even lower voice, he said "I tried to help you. I would have tried to protect you and your family, Ruby."
**** Meanwhile "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Casa Grande Santa Lucia Mountains, California 11:27 AM Eastern Standard Time "Are we getting’ any closer to the Billiards Room?" Doggett asked as they milled along with the other tourist group. Allende consulted the map the tour guide so thoughtfully provided for them. "Almost there. We’re going to have to break away from the group. Hopefully, Mulder and Reyes will have created enough of a diversion." "We will now be approaching the Billiards Room," the tour guide said in a high pitched clear voice. "Unfortunately, that room is closed for the time being due to maintenance needs," she added. "Bullshit," Doggett grunted, bending down to pretend to tie his shoes. As the tour group strolled past him, he got up and ducked down a dark corridor. A few minutes later, Allende was at his side. "Ready?" Doggett asked, unzipping his jacket and unsnapping his holster. Allende did the same. "Ready," he said in his quiet voice. Doggett nodded and cautiously they walked down the corridor. Doggett, not liking how still everything was, pulled his gun out. "We’re going in," Allende whispered into the tiny microphone taped onto his chest as he too drew his gun, following Doggett’s lead. "Where’s everybody else?" Doggett asked Allende. "No response?" Allende suddenly flinched, then dug the tiny ear bud transmitter out of his ear. "Dammit, static. Something is interfering with our signal." Doggett peered around the corner, clutching his gun. "There’s only one of ‘em there, at the door," Doggett whispered to Allende. He peered around the corner again. "Aw, shit." Doggett dug out the slender little vial out of his jean pocket. "Well… let’s find out if this Kryptonite can cripple Supah-man." Doggett took out the syringe and with his teeth, removed the plastic cap that protected the needle. He jabbed the vial’s rubber topper with the needle and carefully drew the fluid inside the syringe. "Jesus, if this doesn’t work… I hope to God that I get to haunt Mulder for the rest of eternity," he muttered. Allende peered around the corner. "He’s coming this way."
Billy Miles, devoid of all humanity, turned his head. Dark brown eyes narrowing, he marched towards Doggett. "Billy," Doggett said, "Stop right there, you don’t wanna do this…" When Billy kept coming, Doggett said "Billy, what if there’s a chance we can make you normal again?"
"Yeah… normal. ‘Stead of a Supah Soldier… I can’t promise you if it would work… but we could try…" "Oh crap," Doggett gagged. "Not again…" Allende then came out of hiding, holding his gun and syringe. "My God," he said, mouth hanging open as he walked around, arms flopping around crazily. "Allende!" Doggett cried out. "He’s still dangerous!" Allende seemed to be frozen in shock. However, when Billy’s face started to rebuild itself, Allende regained his composure and sent another round into Billy, this time into his chest. Billy flopped to the floor and began to twitch. Allende rushed to stab him with the syringe. "Let’s see if this works," Allende said, pushing down on the plunger, then getting up quickly and backing away. As Doggett stood up, rubbing his throat, he watched in disbelief and horror how Billy suddenly began to convulse, screaming in pain. "Oh Jesus," Allende said, inching away from Billy’s twitch body. "Did we kill him?" During the seizure, Billy’s face had been rebuilt completely. However, a black, oily goo began to seep out of his eyes, nose, mouth, ears and whatever bodily orifice he had left. Still screaming bloody murder, he started to claw at his face. "It burns!" he wailed. "It burns!" Doggett suddenly felt very cold as he watched the oily substance pooling on the fancy carpet.
And a nightmare he thought was buried resurfaced. Barbed wire, holding his body down on an icy metal table. His clothes were gone. Tables everywhere, lined up like gravestones at Arlington. A man… Billy Miles… approaches him. A pinprick. Something being injected into his body. Then… cold, thick oil being poured over him. The oil was everywhere, it seeped into his skin. It oozed into his eyes, his mouth. It was cold but it burned… Doggett felt his body break out into a freezing sweat as he watched the Black Oil gush out of Billy’s body. He took a step away and said "Allende, we gotta move." "That stuff… it’s poison… c’mon," he said as he and Allende took off at a dead run. The Black Oil continued to flow after them but then it abruptly stopped and seeped into the carpet as if it was ordinary motor oil. The virus was dead. And so was Billy Miles. Doggett and Allende didn’t bother to turn around to see that Mulder’s serum in fact saved them. They burst into the Billiards Room and slammed the door shut behind them. "Teresa!" Doggett yelled out. "Teresa Reyes! Where are you?" Doggett frantically looked around the posh room with the two gigantic billiard tables and antique French tapestries. "Teresa, it’s John Doggett; I work with your sister in the FBI." Gibson rose from the chair he had been sitting in. His hands were bound. "The Senator though, she’s in shock. She needs help." "Yes, she’s in that closet," Gibson nodded towards a closet door. "They put her in there when they started interrogating me." Allende unlocked the closet. The Senator, still in the mauve suit she wore that day at the La Brea Tar Pits, tumbled out, unconscious. Allende scooped her up. "She needs medical attention," he said, standing up. "We’ve got to get them out of here." ****** Meanwhile "La Cuesta Encantada" AKA the Hearst Castle Casa del Sol Santa Lucia Mountains, California 11:45 AM Eastern Standard Time "Ruby!" Mulder called out as he and Reyes chased after her through the Casa del Sol. "Ruby, wait!" "Mulder, shh!" Reyes grabbed his shirt sleeve. "Listen…" "Bring Mulder to me alive. Do whatever you want to Reyes." Mulder slipped in after Reyes and shut the door quietly behind him. "Okay, this is what we’ll do… Reyes?" Reyes stood stock still in the room, her eyes were closed. "Teri…" Teresa Reyes lifted her head. Her face was a mask of bruises. She blinked several times to adjust to the sudden infusion of light. She trembled, as if she was afraid it was a dream. "Monica?" she asked hopefully. "Come on," Monica clasped her sister by her handcuffed hands. "We have to go." Uncertain, Teri crawled out of the closet, then stood up. She shrank away from Mulder when she saw him but Reyes was quick to reassure her. "He’s one of us, Teri. I work with him. He started the X-Files." Reyes threw her arms around her. "It’s okay," Reyes stroked her hair. Angry masculine voices filtered through the guest house. "Search every room. Find them. Before they find her." Mulder looked out the window. "We might have a chance if we head towards the swimming pool." He turned to the Reyes sisters. "Teresa, you have to trust me. We’re going to scale down out the window. We aren’t that high up. I want to you loop your arms around my neck." "Yes. There’s not much time. Hurry," Mulder turned around, and crouched down so Teresa could loop her handcuffed wrists over his head. She wrapped her legs around Mulder’s torso. "Reyes," Mulder said, heading towards the window. "Cover us." There was no time to worry about that now though. They had to get out of there. Mulder looped one leg over the edge of the window sill. Teresa whimpered slightly. "It’s okay," Mulder told her, looking down. It wasn’t that big of a drop. Maybe seven, eight, nine feet. Ten maximum. <<Hopefully my ass will break the fall,>> Mulder thought dismally, getting ready to shimmy down. The door flew open. The renegade, Agent Benchly had kicked in the door. "They’re in here!" he bawled out, pointing his gun at Reyes.
As Benchly fell dead to the carpet, Mulder swung his other leg over and said "Hold on," to Teresa before swinging his other leg over. Clasping to the window sill, he lowered his body out the window. Teresa sucked in a terrified breath, but was silent. Mulder hung there for a moment before letting go. He thanked God the ground was soft. He had landed on his feet, then he fell on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked Teresa as he dusted her off. Reyes meanwhile was climbing out the window just as Rohrer entered the room. "You little bitch," he spat at her, drawing his gun.
"Run, go, get out of here!" Mulder yelled, pushing Reyes and Teresa away, towards the swimming pool. As they fled Rohrer’s wrath, Mulder yelled into the microphone the CIA had wired him with "This is Agent Mulder. I need backup, need back up now! Anybody hear me?? Dammit!" he swore when he realized that something was interfering with the radio waves. As the trio ran, Mulder pulled his cell phone out. "Doggett!" "Mul-duh! Gibson Praise and the Senator are here, not Teresa Reyes!" "Gibson?" Reyes panted as she urged Teresa to keep running. "That’s how this whole mess started. When I received that video tape of Gibson healing somebody in the desert!"
"Done," Doggett said, "Where are you?" "Inside the temple by the Neptune swimming pools," Mulder said as they crouched behind a large statue sitting lost and forgotten in the corner of the Roman replica. Reyes protectively put her arms around her sister. Mulder squatted down in front of them. "Mulder?" Doggett said as they maneuvered through the maze like hallways towards an unoccupied side exit. "Mulder?" There was no sound on the other end expect for breathing. "Mulder, I’m gonna hang up and call the cavalry. Sit tight." Doggett hit "end" then he re-dialed. "This is Special Agent John Doggett," he said curtly. "We need backup…" Three men, dressed in military fatigues silently stalked through the pool, communicating through sign language. So far, luck was on Mulder’s side and they did not thoroughly investigate the temple yet. Mulder thanked God that for once, he remembered to put the ringer on silent. If Doggett or anyone else had called back and the phone rang, the aftermath would have not been pretty. The replicants moved closer towards the temple. Teresa was trembling. Reyes’ folded her lips tightly and gripped her gun even tighter after kissing Teri on the cheek silently. "Reyes," he whispered. "You and Teresa… if the replicants get too close, I’m going to divert them. It’s me they want. Try and make it towards the fence. You both can lose them on the way down from the mountain." She knew that somehow, it always lead but to Mulder. There were footsteps in the temple. Mulder poised himself, prepared to run if necessary. A flashlight scoured the temple. "There’s nobody here," a loud voice declared. Mulder suppressed the sigh of relief he so badly wanted to exhale. Then he forgot how to breathe again when he heard Rohrer’s chilling voice. "Secure the parameter. They’re here. Leave them to me." Mulder turned to Reyes. He pulled the 21 Bobcat EL Beretta out of his ankle holster and gave it to Teresa. "Safety is off," he told her as she clasped her handcuffed hands around the small pistol. "First opportunity you get, run," he said, before scuttling away from them, darting behind another statue. "Don’t wait for me." Reyes smoothed Teresa’s hair. "It’ll be okay," she told her as she scooted around so she would be in front of her. Although her voice trembled and her eyes were enormous with fright, Teresa whispered, "That man… he’s going to kill your friend. We can’t just sit here and do nothing." "Teri," Reyes shushed her, but her heart was pounding. She knew Mulder was right, but she couldn’t help but think of Scully raising William all by herself. And then she thought of… "Jerilyn," she breathed. Mulder was Jerilyn’s only chance. "Teri," Reyes whispered frantically to her. "I will stay here and help Mulder. You get out of here."
Viniendo… he is coming. Reyes peeped around the corner of the statue again, saw Rohrer enter the flamboyant swimming pool, modeled after the lavish pools Roman antiquity enjoyed over millenniums ago. "Mulder," Rohrer’s voice boomed out. "I know you’re here." "Alright, I’m here," he said, revealing himself to Rohrer. They faced each other, Rohrer on one side of the pool, Mulder on the other side. Both men appeared to be unarmed. "Where are the other two?" Rohrer demanded. "Reyes and her sister?" "I don’t believe you," Rohrer’s lip curled upwards. Mulder shrugged. "Sure. Fine. Whatever." He put his hands in his pocket, clasping the vial he had kept for himself. "There’s CIA here, you know. And a SWAT team. Your secret army won’t be much of a secret anymore." "The Syndicate has the United States’ military approval," Rohrer said smugly, as he began to walk around the pool, towards Mulder. "Not the CIA’s," Mulder said quietly. "They were on our side once," Rohrer said, getting closer and closer to Mulder. Mulder shrugged again. "Were, being the operative word." Reyes peered around the statue again. She could make out Mulder’s profile perfectly. If he had been the target, Reyes would have had a clear shot. Teresa peeped over Reyes’ shoulder. Upon seeing Rohrer again, she began to tremble. Meanwhile, Mulder’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to make Rohrer get away from the Neptune pool, giving the Reyes sisters a chance to escape. "I’ll do whatever you want me to do," he said suddenly, very humbly and very out of character. "Just promise me that no harm will come to my son." <<Let this work, let this work!>> he hoped. In the distance, he heard shouting. Agents, federal and CIA yelling, "Down, down on the ground NOW!" Gunfire. Mulder’s stomach twisted as he thought of the civilians, the innocent tourists minding their own business. Over the din, he could hear Doggett’s voice. "Mul-duh! Mul-duh, Monica! Where are you?" Rohrer glared at Mulder. "The good agent Doggett to the rescue again, I see." He got into Mulder’s face. "He’s not as good as you think he is. He cares about one thing, and it’s not the X-Files…" in a sotto voice, he added, "and it’s not your sister." He reached out and seized Mulder by the throat. "Go ahead, scream," he told him as he lifted Mulder off the ground. "Make ‘em come to me." Reyes knew this was her only shot. "Teri, go, now, while he’s distracted," she told her before standing up and shouting "Rohrer!!!" The bullet tore through Rohrer’s skull. He lost his grip on Mulder and flung him into the pool. The vial slipped from Mulder’s hand and sank to the bottom of the pool. Kicking his feet, Mulder dove after it. Arms flailing, Rohrer charged after Reyes. Reyes fired again, backing up until she ran out of room to back up. Back slamming hard against the wall, she held the gun up at his bloodied face, staring in horror and revulsion as his face repaired itself. Rohrer grabbed Reyes by the hair and forced her to her knees while snatching her Sig Sauer away from her. "You were warned," he said, pressing the barrel of the gun to the top of her head, "To stay out of the X-Files." Another gunshot rang out followed by a woman’s shrill scream. Rohrer, expecting Doggett turned around lazily. Teresa Reyes stood there, defiantly, pointing Mulder’s Beretta at him. She had screamed in surprise at the loudness of the gun she had just fired but she stood her ground, pointing the gun at Rohrer’s chest.
<<…"This is how my godfather did it. Why shouldn't I be able to do the same thing?" said the little skunk…>> "Teri, no…" Reyes begged her but Rohrer roughly threw her against the wall, piveted and turned Reyes’s gun onto Teresa. Teresa was shaking but she raised her handcuffed hands even higher, aiming for Rohrer’s misshapen head. <<…"This is how you sharpen a knife," said the little skunk. He sharpened his "knife."…>> Doggett and Allende arrived along with a small team of SWAT men just in time to see Teresa Reyes and Rohrer fire at each other. <<… "This is the way my godfather did it. I'm not going to hunt the little animals, I'm just going to hunt the one with the great big antlers…>> "Oh God, no!" Doggett cried out too late. Teresa’s shot was wildly off target. Rohrer’s was right on. Faster than anyone anticipated, Rohrer fired on Doggett and Allende. The agents ducked for cover as Rohrer scaled the temple walls and disappeared. Groggy, Reyes sat up. She blinked her eyes very hard while she watched Doggett crawl over to a pile of ashes. Strange, the ashes were in the shape of a person… this was just like the day when… … when they found Luke Doggett. Doggett had just finished closing Teresa’s eyes when Reyes staggered over to her. "Monica," he said, voice filled with inexpressible anguish. Reyes sank to her knees next to Teresa. Rohrer had blown a perfect starfish in her chest. Her face was unblemished from her death. Reyes reached for her sister’s hands. Allende tried to stop her, "Monica," he said, kneeling down to her level, putting his hands on her shoulders. Reyes fought him off. "Monica, you know you can’t disturb evid-" "It doesn’t matter anymore," Mulder said, bleakly. The water from his soaked clothes made a pattering sound on the tiled floor. "It doesn’t matter anymore… It’s over."
She buried her face in her hands. A low, painful sob escaped from her. Doggett, unable to take it anymore, took her into his arms and stroked her hair, whispering to her over and over again, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" It was never over. *** A few days later Friday, May 10, 2002 LAX Airport 5:45 AM Pacific Time Mulder, carrying only his black duffel bag; saw Doggett sitting in the terminal, sipping hot, black coffee out of a Styrofoam cup as he watched the news on CNN. "Morning sunshine," Mulder said, plopping down in the seat next to Doggett. "How’s the coffee?" "Talked to Allende at all?" Like Doggett, Mulder gained an enormous depth of respect for the quiet, unassuming man. "Last night. We hit the bar at my hotel. Had a few drinks." "And?" "Whaddya hafta to say?" Mulder tried to grin. "Asked him if he’d be interested in transferring to DC to work in the X-Files since we’re going to have an opening. He said no. Imagine that." Now Doggett snorted. "I guess I’m ‘fine’ too." "We’re all just a ‘fine’ group aren’t we?" Mulder closed his eyes, wishing he had an icepack to put on his broken nose. At least the swelling was going down and the bruises were fading. "How’s Reyes?" "How are you doing?" "Kersh will spin it around to put the FBI back in the favorable light. But I’d watch your back, Doggett." Mulder asked "What, they didn’t film your good side?"
"Actually, you sounded pretty good and you put the FBI in a good light," Mulder said blandly. Doggett glared at Mulder. "If you’re implyin’ that I’m just some double-talkin’ politician-" "I was saying that perhaps your career hasn’t been hampered by the X-Files as much as you think." "Yeah, well… you know what?" Doggett grumbled, still watching the television in embarrassed agony. "I don’t know if I still want it or not. I don’t know if becoming A.D. is worth all this horseshit." "It’s your life and your decision. But bear in mind that when Skinner leaves and if it’s not you in the A.D. chair, the X-Files future just became very precarious." "None what so ever." In silence, they waited for their flight to begin boarding. *** Later that day Dana Scully’s apartment Georgetown 11:45 AM Eastern Standard Time Her cell phone rang. Bravo picked it up off the coffee table and said "Hello?" She stuffed a finger in her other ear. William was screaming his head off, had been screaming his head off ever since Bravo decided to stay with Scully. Scully was resorting to bribery now. "Mommy will buy you anything you want, just please, sweetie, hush…" Scully groaned as she tried to put William in his playpen. William refused to let go of her and turned up his screaming another decibel. "WHAT??" Bravo yelled into the phone. Over her shoulder, she said "I’m going outside for a minute." She doubted that Scully even heard her over the squalling. Bravo slid Starkweather’s penny loafers on and stomped out the front door. The minute the door slammed, William stopped bawling, let go of his mother and began to play with his toys happily. Scully’s brow furrowed in thought. Looked at William. Looked at the front door. She shook her head and went into the kitchen to clean up the mess William had made at breakfast. He had flung his bowl of oatmeal at Bravo, splattering it all over her sweater. Bravo was still wearing the stained sweater when she received the call from Carlos. "God, Lux," she moaned. "Tell me I can go home. I can’t handle this anymore. This is just reinforcing the fact that I don’t want babies." "Can you hold out for a few more days?" Carlos pleaded. "Just to be absolutely sure we get an all clear?" "Maybe I can make some arrangements," Carlos was saying to her. "Mulder’s coming home today." "I have no idea, some friends of Mulder’s showed up for him and no one has seen the kid since." Carlos sighed, hinting that he may not approve with Mulder’s tactics, he had no choice but to comply by them. "I do want to talk to you later, when you have a chance."
Bravo pocketed the phone after Carlos hung up. Lost herself in thought for a moment. Then a cruel, calculating smile crossed her lips. "Too easy," she whispered, turning to go back inside the apartment. *** Later that day… Dulles International Airport Baggage Claims 6:37 PM Eastern Time Scully, bouncing an extremely cranky William in her arms, waited impatiently for Mulder and Doggett’s flight to land. "William," she lamented, "why are you being such a brat today?" "Maybe he just misses his daddy," Bravo offered, hands in pocket. "Or maybe his daddy’s genes are just rearing their ugly hea- OWWW!!! Dammit!" she squawked as William reached over and grabbed a fistful of her long blond hair. Thank God she went with her gut instinct and dyed her hair instead of going with a wig. "WILLIAM, NO NO," Scully yelled, forcing William to let go of Bravo’s hair. "Good grief, child… what has gotten into you?" she tried to soothe him as he started to scream again, temper tantrum style. People passing by were starting to stare. "He’s her kid, not mine," Bravo said helpfully to a little old lady who was wrinkling her nose at William’s bratty behavior. The loudspeaker droned "Flight 35A, from Chicago to Washington DC, now landing." "Thank God," Scully said. Glaring at William, who was kicking and pummeling Scully with his little fists, she snapped at him. "Just wait until your father gets home." "Good parenting, Scully," Bravo droned. "I’m sure you’ll win awards." About twenty minutes later, while William cried the entire time, Bravo said "There they are," as she pointed out Mulder and Doggett making their way out the terminal. "Oh my God," Scully whispered, seeing Mulder’s bruised face. Doggett, she noticed, was moving none too fast either. "Come on," she said to Bravo as she started to make her way towards them. Bravo trailed behind them, trying very hard to suppress a mean little smile. She just thought of a way to torture Doggett and the very idea of carrying it out made her want to giggle like a little kid. The minute he saw Mulder, William tried to twist out of Scully’s grip. "Daddddddddddddeeeeeeeeee!" he wailed reaching for him. "Hey slugger- oof!" Mulder said as William attached himself to Mulder’s neck after Scully handed him off to him. "What is this?" he said gently to the boy. Looking up at Scully, he asked her, "What IS this?" "That’s not like him," Mulder worried. "Hey, buddy, what’s going on with you?" William wriggled and pointed at Bravo who was approaching Doggett, her face radiating concern. <<Where’s my Oscar, dammit>> Bravo thought as she smiled tenderly at Doggett. "Hi," she whispered, reaching for him, stroking his arm. "Hey Doc," he smiled at her. Bravo stepped closer to him and encircled her arms around his abdomen, squeezing exactly where she knew his ribs where broken. Doggett gasped in pain and pushed her gently away. "Ow," he said. "Don’t… honey, I’m sorry, but…" his face contorted as the ache in his side re-doubled. "Oh," Bravo put her hand to her mouth. "God, I’m sorry, I forgot," she said, eyebrows arched as though concern while she forgot another urge to laugh. She did so get such a kick from the petty things in life. Mulder watched Doggett and Bravo with narrowed eyes as William continued to sob and point at Bravo. Protectively putting his arm over Scully, he walked over to Doggett and Bravo. "How are you, Jerilyn?" he asked innocently. She shrugged. "Fine." "What time will you be back tonight?" Scully asked. "Um…" Bravo looked at her shoes. "I’m probably not going to come back tonight." Quickly, she added "I want to go home," while thinking <<Suckers.>> Mulder nodded. "My face is killing me," he said. "And this guy needs a nap. We’ll talk to you later," he said casually as he ushered Scully and William away from them. "Scully," he said lowly once he was out of ear shot. "Have you heard from either Reyes or Langly today?" Mulder frowned. "I’m going to have to go talk to Langly tonight." He cuddled William to him. William had stopped his temper tantrum. "I can’t," Mulder said helplessly. "Why the hell not?" Irritated, Bravo thought <<Stop touching me.>> Exhausted, Doggett sank down into the passenger seat as Bravo got into the driver’s seat. He winced as he put his seat belt on. As Bravo started the car, he looked over at her. Bravo was momentarily stunned at the brilliance of his piercing eyes. Almost crystal clear except for a dark blue ring around the translucent iris. He reached over to move her bangs out of her own eyes, blue hidden away by plastic green lenses, mimicking Starkweather’s flashing hazel eyes. His hand slid down her face, barely touching her, skimming her skin. His fingers then grazed her jaw line, his thumb rubbing against her lower lip softly. Bravo resisted the urge to bite his thumb off. She smiled and gave him what he was silently asking for. She leaned in and kissed him in the sweet fashion men mistook for love. To her heartfelt relief, this task was not as revolting as she feared it would, he kissed well. And, as he continued to deliver sweet wet kisses that Bravo hated to admit were definitely beginning to turn her on, she realized why this man attracted Starkweather. He was one of those men that looked better and better the more and more you got to know him. Upon initial meeting, a woman may decide that he was nothing to write home to Mom about. Bravo definitely didn’t see anything likable when she first saw him. But time after time, the desirable traits would manifest. Those striking eyes. Strong jaw line. A nice body… okay, very nice body. His graveled voice would even contain a little sex appeal. And he definitely knew how to use his fingers and lips. Too bad she had to kill him. He leaned in closer to her and then sucked in a breath when he moved wrong and his hurt ribs protested. Slowly reclining back into the passenger seat, he said "I’m sorry. I’m no good to anyone right now." "You sure?" There was a definite note of disappointment in his graveled voice. Bravo turned and gave him a sweet smile. "What’s the point of catching up if all you’re going to do is fall asleep on me?" "Besides," she added flippantly. "I’ve waited almost two months to see you, what’s another night?" Bravo looked out of the corner of her eyes. He had fallen asleep. <<Thank fucking God,>> she thought, blowing out a relieved breath. **** Outside John Doggett’s residence Falls Church, Virginia 7:24 PM Eastern Standard Time Bravo had just closed the front door behind her when her cell phone rang again. "Hello?" "Oh." "When?" If that didn’t make him come running… *** Dana Scully’s apartment Georgetown 8:45 PM Eastern Standard Time Scully put the last of the dishes in the dishwater and closed it with a thump. There weren’t enough dishes for a full load and Scully didn’t feel like wasting all the water for a few plates and glasses. She stood up and put her hands on the small of her back, twisting and bending, trying to work out the kinks and knots. As she plodded across the kitchen to get the milk and leftover remains of the tuna casserole off the table and back into the refrigerator, she could hear water splashing around from the bathroom and William giggling excitedly. At the end of the extremely quiet meal, except for William’s babbling, Mulder offered to give William a bath and put him to bed. Scully had muttered "Sure. Fine. Whatever," as she pushed her salad around on her plate. She had only eaten half of her lettuce, shredded carrots and green peppers smothered in a light vinaigrette dressing and none of the casserole or dessert. Her appetite vanished the minute Mulder told her that he had to go see the Lone Gunmen tonight. Dammit, she was sick of this bullshit. She might as well be a single mother. Mulder certainly acting like an absentee father. Come and spoil the boy for a few hours or days, then take off again. Sighing as she put saran wrap over the brownie pan, she knew she wasn’t being fair. She also realized that she didn’t care that she wasn’t being fair. The last few days have been hard on her too. With William acting up on her while she tried to keep an eye on Jerilyn, making sure she didn’t take off and do something outrageously heroic and stupid, as Jerilyn and Mulder were both prone to do. And she was supposed to work on top of that too. She had three X-Files sitting in her IN box that she hadn’t touched yet and Skinner had left her a not-so-polite reminder that her 302 from the last X-File she worked on hadn’t been turned in yet and he would appreciate that as soon as possible. After putting the brownies in the refrigerator, she filled her tea kettle and put it on the stove to boil. She slumped down at the table, absently playing with her big coffee mug as she waited for the water to get hot. She could hear Mulder talking to William as he took him off the tub and dried him off. "Let’s find your jammies, Boo." "Yeah, buddy, it’s night-night time. It’s late," Mulder told him, sweeping him off the floor, bundled up in a thick taupe colored towel that matched Scully’s bathroom perfectly. "How would you like Daddy to read you a story? Would you like that?" Scully felt tears of exhaustion and jealousy welling in her eyes. She couldn’t’ deny it. William was Daddy’s boy. She was just the creature that provided food, clothing, shelter and protection for him. She wasn’t a hero to him like Daddy was. As the kettle whistled, Scully, continuing to wallow in self-pity, reflected that she would never ever get to just enjoy her son. And she was the one who wanted him the most. Gulping back frustrated tears, she poured the scalding hot water into the cup and dunked the Lipton tea bag into it, watching the water turn brown. She returned to the living room and switched the television on. As Mulder read to William in the nursery, Scully tried to lose herself in the normalcy of the mundane sitcoms. She then remembered she hated sitcoms so she picked up the remote control and channel surfed until she found the nice safe haven of Animal Planet, home of the Crocodile Hunter. Mulder could hear the babble of the television from the living room as he cuddled William and read "Good Night Moon" out loud, fighting down his own jealousy. William was definitely Mama’s boy. She got to see him everyday. She got to play with him and take care of him and watch him grow. All he was getting of William’s childhood was a few stolen moments when time allowed, which he resented. He wanted to be so much more to the boy, more than just the guy that showed up once in a while to play and read books and then disappear for God only knew how long. He was not just the sperm donor, dammit and he was tired of being treated that way. "Night, slugger," he whispered, kissing William as he tucked him in. He turned the nightlight on and the main light off. He stood in the door frame, listened to William settle himself down, then fall asleep. He took a deep breath and realized the inevitable had arrived and there was no sense of procrastinating anymore. He walked into the living room and saw Scully, looking so small and vulnerable, curled up in her big overstuffed chair, staring at a television program she was not watching. Mulder crossed over, switched the television off and then walked over to her, sitting on the footstool in front of her. "We have to talk," he said lowly. Scully put the mug on the in-table next to her chair. "Yes." "Scully… I… don’t know where… I…" "I don’t expect you to be Ward Cleaver, but… Mulder… my God. You haven’t even been in DC for twenty-four hours and already you’re talking about conspiracies and going to see the Lone Gunmen and… Mulder… my eyes have been opened. They would have still been closed if I hadn’t met you, if Section Chief Blevins hadn’t sent me to debunk the X-Files… and now, I understand that there are matters that science will never be able to explain… but Mulder. This has to stop. We have to stop chasing after shadows. Reyes has already lost her sister because of this. I know too well how she feels," Scully swallowed hard, remembering Melissa’s death at Krycek’s hand. After clearing her throat one more time, she continued "Jerilyn has already elected to leave the X-Files behind and start her life again. Which I don’t blame her a bit, her short tenure in the basement cost her the most out of all of us. Reyes and Doggett can carry on without us, Mulder. Let it be. Please. Just let it be," she begged him. "You don’t have to be CIA. There’s still time to retract your resignation to the Deputy Mayor’s office. Or… there’s so much you could do, Mulder. You could be an instructor at Quantico. Or get a job in the private sector. Or write a book. Or SOMETHING. Mulder, the Truth is out there, but William and I are right here. The world doesn’t need you. We do." "I know. You’re right. And yet… I can’t. I’m sorry, Scully. I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be. What you need me to be. I’m sorry I keep leaving you behind. But… we were wrong, Scully. I thought everything would still be the same. I thought … I thought that this… that William wouldn’t come between us. That it wouldn’t affect the X-Files. But I was wrong. Everything has changed. And I can’t just sit and let what I hold closest to me be ripped away or ripped to shreds. If I can do something, if I can find something to finally expose these bastards for what they are, make the truth finally known… then I have to do it." He looked up at her, begging her to understand. "Scully, you don’t have to agree with me," he said. "You and I have not always seen eye to eye, but I need you to stand by me on this. Be angry with me, hate me if you want to even, but please… I don’t have to be reminded that I’m on the losing end of this game. Watching Teresa Reyes die in front of me made me acutely aware of that. I know I’ve failed, that everything I’ve set out to do has blown up in my face, but I have to try. I have to keep trying. While there’s still hope, I have to keep going." Scully took the file from him and opened it. She turned white and put her hand to her mouth. "Scully… listen to me, that’s why I have to see the Gunmen tonight. Langly said he discovered something very important, something pertaining to the case. Something that could jeopardize everyone’s safety but he didn’t get a chance to tell me before Rowan was abducted and before the fiasco at the Hearst Castle. I have to go, Scully." When she didn’t respond, he knelt down in front of her. "Scully?" "Scully," Mulder said again, helplessly. She lifted her eyes to his. "Go, Mulder," she said flatly. "I…" Mulder started to say, but realized that words were worthless now. He nodded, reached up, squeezed her unresponsive shoulders tightly once, leaned over, kissed her forehead, stood up and left. Once she heard the front door shut and lock, Scully then allowed herself the luxury of breaking down. She put the open file on the footstool and with elbows on knees, buried her face in her hands, letting the hot angry tears course down her face. "Emily…" she wept. *** Later… Room 333 The Marriott Hotel Downtown Washington DC 9:21 PM Eastern Standard Time Bravo finished brushing her long blond hair and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair rippled past her shoulders and down her back, almost reaching her rear end. She reached for the eyeliner and traced a thin line below her lower lashing, drawing out the amber hue of her contact lenses. Both she and Starkweather were gifted with thick eyelashes so she didn’t bother with mascara. Knowing that Starkweather favored simple, clean looks and that men responded well to that look, Bravo eschewed all other makeup except for a little lip gloss. Bravo had torn Starkweather’s closet apart, looking for anything a little more risqué, but ended up batting zero. She found a black t-shirt that had shrunk in the wash that Starkweather usually wore underneath clothes and a pair of brand new low-riding jeans that Starkweather had ordered online from the Gap that she never got to wear. There was a thin sliver of flesh exposed, revealing a strong back and a flat belly. Bravo studied the belly hard. She had studied the photographs, knowing that there were thin little scars below Starkweather’s belly button and a thick ugly scar between her breasts as well as a scar in the back of her neck. And a crescent moon shaped one on her forehead. That one had been the hardest to maintain. Fortunately, after receiving that scar, Starkweather had bangs cut into her hair to cover her latest disfigurement. Bravo took a deep breath. This was it. Reyes was out of the way now. Doggett had been placated for the night. Mulder and Scully were experiencing domestic bliss right now. Everyone was busy. The two weeks she asked the Cancer Man for was going to be up tomorrow. She couldn’t have planned it better. Everything would be accomplished by tomorrow night. At the sound of the knock on the door, Bravo turned the light off. "Who is it?" she called out as she walked over towards the hotel door. "It’s me," Carlos’s deep voice rumbled from the other side. Bravo peeped into the spy hole, then, unlocked the chain link lock and deadbolt before letting him in. "Hi," she said as she moved aside. As Carlos took off his leather jacket and placed it on in a chair next to the small table, Bravo relocked the door and said "What did you have to talk to me about?" She leaned against the door, crossing her arms, facing him. "I have good news for one," Carlos said, turning to face her. "News that I hope you can relay to Scully and Mulder." "Where to?" "The place you suggested, by the airport. It made the most sense." "About what?" "That you’re here." "What about him?" Carlos’ onyx eyes twinkled mischievously. "Don’t tell me you’ve gone off on that cracker." Bravo folded her lips, preparing another Oscar-worthy deliverance. She knew the risks involved playing Mulder, Carlos and Doggett against each other. But the payoff was so worth it. And she loved the game. She sat down on the bed and shrugged. "I just… everything is so fucked up right now and… I don’t know how to feel about him anymore. I mean… oh… forget, it’s stupid. I don’t want to talk about it." "I had certainty of self, Lux. That’s what I’m talking about. There was a time where I didn’t doubt myself. Of who I was. I thought I loved Ben. And I do… but at the same time… I questioned myself all the time. Was I doing the right thing being a federal agent when it upset him so much? When it was destroying our marriage? And I doubted my loyalty to Ben every fucking time we’d fight about Doggett. He accused me of dishonoring our marriage vows because of my feelings for Doggett. But he was the one that cheated on me. But not even a month or so after Ben’s been dead, Doggett and I start contemplating… but… Ben shouldn’t have died. He was a good person, he shouldn’t have… and Doggett shouldn’t have been taken away… that… should have never happened either… I know it’s an exercise in futility, Lux. But I can’t help but think if… all those years ago… if I had made a different choice… none of this would have happened… Ben would have met and married someone else and she’d be pushing out all the little kiddies that he wanted that I refused him," she made her voice crack. "And Doggett’s career maybe… he’d have the chance for greatness that will be denied if I stay with him." "What are you saying Bailey?" His voice was so soft she could barely hear him. "I feel like I used him," she whispered. "I knew that it wouldn’t work. That it can’t work. But he was always there when I needed him… and maybe I confused friendship for something else and that now… when he thinks that there’s a chance for more… I can’t give him more." "So basically," Carlos said. "You’re going to break his heart." "I’m sorry," Carlos said. "Not just for that… but for everything… maybe… if I had done my job better, this wouldn’t be happening." "I don’t think," Carlos said after a long painful silence. A silence so long, Bravo wondered if he was going to respond at all. "I don’t think I made a bad choice or a wrong choice… to go into the CIA. But… not a day passes, Bailey-girl… when I don’t wonder what could have happened… if I made a different choice." He reached over, gently cupping her face, looking into her eyes. "I never meant to hurt you, Jerilyn." "I know," she whispered. "That’s what makes it worse." She closed her eyes. "But there is no such thing as time travel. We can’t undo anything. I can’t un-marry Ben and un-join the FBI… and you can’t un-leave me." "Jerilyn," he smoothed her blond hair back. "You know, you’re making me think that all this time that you’ve been pissed at me… you’ve been actually missing me a little," he quipped. "Oh come on, Lux…" Bravo put her hands over his. "You know me better than anyone else… do you really think I forgot about you?... I’m sorry, I’m just wishing out loud now… I wish a lot things." "Like what?" he whispered. "I wish I never met Ben," Bravo snuffled. "I wish I never married him. I wish he would have just found a nice girl who wanted babies and picket fences and puppies instead of me. I was I wasn’t so stubborn. I wish I would have let him go the minute I knew he was unhappy. I think I fought for my marriage so hard because I didn’t want to admit that Ben was just a re-bounder. And I wish I wasn’t making the same mistake again with Doggett. Just using him… to forget…" Bravo expertly swallowed a sob. "I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be laying this on you…" "Jerilyn," he said, still looking at her. "It’s not exactly a deep dark secret I’m still in love with you." Bravo’s eyes flew open as she thought <<Gotcha.>> "But…" "I think," Bravo said, linking her fingers with his, "I think there’s still a chance." "I love you, Jerilyn," he said again, dipping his head down for another kiss. As she began to undo the buttons of his shirt, she thought wickedly <<Now this is going to be fun… >> She thought it before and she’ll think it again. Starkweather definitely had exquisite taste in men. *** Later… Aureo and Raquel’s residence Mexico City, Mexico 9:49 PM Mexican Time Being raised in Mexico gave Reyes a perceptive on death that differed greatly from her American born and raised friends. Death was not the great taboo, not the great evolution of the physical life into spiritual life. Death was incorporated into life. Death was life. After all, she grew up celebrating the "Day of the Dead" with her grandmother taking her and her brother and sisters to the graveyards to spruce up the tombstones with amulets and happy flowers, like marigolds and chrysanthemums. Then enjoying a picnic lunch amongst the headstones with Abuela Magda telling stories of the dearly departing and pleasantly chit-chatting with others who came to celebrate, not mourn the deceased. Reyes remembered vividly munching on sugary, skull shaped cookies as Abuela would start reminiscing about her beloved husband, Elian, a quiet man who quietly built a fortune creating luxurious hotels for the American and European tourists to lounge in when they vacationed in Cancun or Matzalan. Or she’d start talking about Great Great Uncle Mateo who was "un poco loco" and, with how his long suffering wife Henriqua, were one of the first to own an automobile. And the first to die in a fantastically stupid automobile accident when Mateo forgot to put the parking brake on and the car rolled down the street, running both Mateo and Henriqua over. Reyes remembered snuggling closer to either Vanessa or Teresa when Abuela would start talking about her little sister Jovana, a beautiful girl who died of polio years and years ago before the miraculous vaccines could halt the crippling disease before it even began. "How can I miss them?" Abuela had responded. "They’re still with me." Then she had told her grandchildren it was time to go. Time to leave the cheerful provincial revelry and go back home to celebrate more decorously with their parents with a nice family supper. Reyes remembered that year she had gotten into a fight with Teresa over supper because Teresa grabbed the loaf of "pan de muerto" Reyes wanted and it had the lucky plastic toy skeleton baked inside. As Reyes begged excuses to her relatives and left to go upstairs to seek rest in her old childhood bedroom, her upbringing was clashing with her Americanization. Reyes slipped off her shoes and shut the door. Leaning against it, she couldn’t help but smile sadly. All of four of the Reyes children have been out on their own now for years and yet their bedrooms remained the same as they were when they were still teenagers. Although, Reyes hated to admit it, but with all her time in boarding schools and traveling, her bedroom always had always felt more like a guest room than a bedroom. Sinking down onto the bed, she buried her face in her hands. She did not cry again. Her grief was beyond tears now. The sharp pain of her failure had receded. Now there was only a dull ache and an exhaustion that plagued her.
Her parents were also mute with shock as were the rest of the relatives of their normally happy family. The funeral was a quiet affair. Now it was over. Rest in peace, Teresita. After apologizing that he had to fly back tonight, A.D. Skinner told her to take as much time as she needed. She thanked him, saying that she had understood and was startled but not unpleasantly so when he hugged her, gruffly telling her to take care of herself before darting away. She had been surprised that he had come all this way to be at her sister’s funeral. Then she realized that she shouldn’t have been. After all, he had also made the trip to Minnesota to Ben Starkweather’s funeral. Starkweather.
<<What do I do?>> she thought, trying to control the building fury within her. <<What more do I risk losing? Teri is gone. Could they take Vani or Jaime next? Or Elsa? Or my grandparents or Mom and Dad… or… but how can I sit by and do nothing while this imposter wrecks havoc? And who is she? What does she want? And I still have no proof… and how can I explain to my family I have to go back to DC. They would never understand…>> "It’s me," a gentle voice replied in broken English. Then reverting to Spanish "Y su amiga." "Come in," Reyes said with a sigh of relief. Vicenta Reyes was responsible for marshalling the family together and organizing the sad event and Reyes along with the rest of the family was grateful for her practical, yet almost cool way of taking care of everything and everyone. Now though, Reyes was ready to be coddled a little by her favorite grandmother. And her best friend. When Assistant District Attorney Nathalique Pontier heard the stunning news, she flatly told her superior that lions, tigers and bears couldn’t keep her away from her friend in need. Nathalique’s face was the first thing that Reyes saw when she rose from her drug-induced stupor and had been a pinnacle of strength for Reyes to lean on. Reyes knew that this debt of gratitude she owed Nathalique could never be paid back. Now both Nathalique and Magda sat down on the bed next to Reyes. Reyes scooted over to make room for them. Nathalique tried to smile at her. "Oh ‘chéri’," was all she could say, reaching over and squeezing her hand. Her silver bangles jingled softly as she let go. Reyes swallowed hard. She didn’t want to cry any more. "We were going to plan a vacation together," she whispered. "We were going to plan a party for Abuelo and Abuela Reyes. For their anniversary. I was going to take a sabbatical from the FBI because I wanted to have lots of time to see everyone… and her…" Magda stroked her cheek. "Nobody blames you," she reassured her in halting English for Nathalique’s benefit. "I know," Reyes whispered. "Then why are you blaming yourself?" "Oh Abuela… I could have stopped it. I could have stopped this before this even began if… if I would have just kept quiet…" Reyes turned her head away. "Nat, if I hadn’t called you and talked to you…" "Your mother told me what you told in her about that day in the hotel room," Magda said, idly stroking her hair as if Reyes’ head was a cat. "How you think they took Teresita away to… um…" she struggled to find the correct English word. "Blackmail you into doing what they want you to do." Nathalique paled as she muttered something in French that neither Reyes or her grandmother could understand. "They tricked you," Magda said, no longer stroking Reyes’ hair, but holding her hand. "They were afraid of you, so they ma… ma… manipulated you." Magda sighed. Then leaned down and whispered in her ear. "They’re not afraid of you now. They’re underestimating you now. They think that you are afraid. That they could hurt, kill someone else dear to you and therefore you will just stand by and let this imposter do her dirty work and you won’t stop her because you wish to protect us." "I am afraid," Reyes admitted. "Teresa was enough, I don’t think I could bea-" "And you’re not alone," Nathalique said instantly. "They can’t take us all you know. I’m still here, your grandparents, your parents, your brother and sister. And sister-in-law. All your friends. Not just the ones you have in DC but in New York and New Orleans… Yes, you have to bear this terrible cross, but not alone." "I know," Reyes said, feeling some of her resolve and serenity returning to her, feeding into the strength of the two women she loved best in the world. "And I know you," Magda said. "I know you can not just sit by if a child’s life was at risk." That truth slammed home to her. William. "No, I can’t," Reyes said. "Abuela-" Later The Lone Gunmen’s Lair Tacoma Falls 10:30 PM Eastern Standard Time "Open up!" Frohike looked up from his computer monitor. "What the hell…" he muttered as he slid off his stool. After unlocking all the locks on the door and opening it, he demanded, "Mulder, what are you doing here? I thought you and the cupcake would be-" "Asleep." But then, on the other side, he doubted that Starkweather and Doggett’s relationship had progressed that fast. After all, Doggett would probably had been in a much better mood if he was actually getting some loving. Mulder found Doggett fast asleep in his bed, alone. Upon seeing the bottle of prescription drugs and the half-empty glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed, Mulder crept out of the house without trying to wake him. Doggett was so stoned right now, trying would have been pointless. So he got back into his car and drove to Arlington. When she didn’t answer her door, Mulder again broke in. He cased the joint with his eyes, called her name once. Caesar came out of hiding, mewling and humbled. Bravo had left him again with no water or food. For almost four days now. As the hungry cat wound his way around Mulder’s legs, Mulder’s suspicions grew. "Poor kitty," he said, stooping down to pick the cat up. Caesar purred and made no attempt to bite or scratch him. Stroking the cat, Mulder walked across to the tiny kitchenette that was part of Starkweather’s main room, then put him down again. Actually feeling sorry for her hellion cat, Mulder not only filled the cat dishes with fresh water and dry cat food, but also gave him a saucer of milk and bowl of soft cat food which smelled disgusting but Caesar inhaled it. As Caesar slurped milk happily, Mulder muttered "Man, if you could talk, you’d have stories for me, wouldn’t you?" After making sure the cat was okay, Mulder relocked the door and ran down to his car and drove as fast as he could to Tacoma Falls. Frohike grumbled and said "Alright, alright, I’ll get him." Later… May 11, 2002 John Doggett’s Residence Falls Church, Virginia 3:27 AM Eastern Doggett struggled to wake up. He was having the worst nightmare. The dream started out okay. He was dreaming about the quiet moment he and Starkweather had experienced while trying to coax William to sleep when they were sequestered at the CIA Grand Canyon stronghold known as Eagle’s Ridge during the planning stages of the rescue of multiple abductees and their children, which included Samita Saint-Claire. Starkweather was trying to teach him how to play the guitar. Vaguely, even as he dreamed, he remembered her guitar had been lost when Eagle’s Ridge came under attack by the replicants. Wisps of her song floated in air as he remembered how she sat behind him and controlled the chords on the frets while letting him strum her guitar. "Hush my love now don't you cry
"If there's one thing I hope I showed you And in dreams he remembered how those words terrified him and bolstered him at the same time. Ben was right, Ben was right, Ben was right… "Hush my love now don't you cry
His sleeping mind conglomerated the raid on Eagle’s Ridge with the horrors of his own disappearance. As he ran towards the black van with Reyes and Skinner, instead of making it to safety this time, the bright lights came instead. He could hear Jerilyn screaming behind him. "WHAT’S HAPPENING? MULDER! MULDER WHERE ARE YOU? DOGGETT?" Jerilyn… honey, run, get away from here, he tried to say but couldn’t because of the Black Oil running down his throat. He could feel the barbed wire pressing down on his body again. This time, this time he could fight. This time he was able to pull the wires off of him and get off the table and get that black shit off of his body. But he felt weak and sick to his stomach as he stumbled out of the room where men moaned as they were infected and into a hallway lined with doors. He could hear moans of dying men and screams of tortured women. Then, as if someone abruptly switched off a television, all sound ceased. Looking around, he thought it looked like a hallway to a maximum security prison. Heart pounding, he walked down the corridor. A flash of light caught his eye and he looked down at the dead bolt of one of the doors. Doggett’s eyes widened with recognition as he grabbed the medal of Saint Christopher off the handle. Clutching it in his hand, he slid the deadbolt open and threw open the door. "Oh my God!" Quickly, dropping the necklace to the ground, he went to her. Kneeling in front of her, he shook her gently, saying urgently "Starkweather… Starkweather, wake up, it’s me. Everything is going to be alright. I’m here. I’m here."
"But where are you???" He picked her up and hurried to the door. The door on its own volition, slammed shut. An alarm began to sound, loud and shrill. No, that wasn’t an alarm… that was… <<My phone…>> She turned to her grandmother. "Te amo." "Te amo todos," Abuela Magda said, embracing her tightly. In English she said "You are doing the right thing." "Ready," Nathalique picked up her carry-on bag. "Señora Alma, a pleasure meeting you," she leaned over and kissed the old woman’s other cheek. "I am happy Monica has such good friends right now," Magda told her, patting her arm. "Be careful," she admonished both women. Reyes smiled again and waved then turned to get in line to board the plane. Just as she and Nathalique were about to disappear into the corridor leading into the plane, Reyes turned her head one more time. Magda was still there, dressed in a well loved, long denim skirt, sandals and simple white blouse, her gray hair twisted up in a haphazard knot in the back of her head. She smiled at her, pride shining in her big brown eyes. Finally feeling like herself, Reyes ducked a little to avoid the low door frame and got on the plane. Magda stayed until Reyes’ plane was airborne. She watched from the great windows as the plane taxied out onto the runaway, and crossed herself as it sped past her, gaining speed to leave the ground. She folded her hands, watching her favorite grandchild return to the United States. *** Later… Dana Scully’s apartment Georgetown 8:00 AM William was glued to the television, riveted to the adventures of Big Bird and Elmo as Scully finished packing up his diaper bag for the day long excursion. He sucked his thumb as he clung to his teddy bear. It would have been nice for Mulder to come home so he could watch William while she went into the office to catch up on the paperwork she had sadly neglected in the wake of the Teresa Reyes abduction. William looked up when his mommy walked by and waved at her. Abandoning Sesame Street and Teddy, he crawled over to the coffee table and hoisted himself up. His little legs trembled at the effort, walking was something he still was trying to get the hang up. Running, he did just fine. It was the whole pacing and getting up and getting down thing he was still trying to master. William noticed Mommy’s cell phone laying on the table. Cell phones were fun. Cell phones lit up and made noise and sometimes Daddy’s voice came out of the cell phone. William stretched his little body trying to reach the phone. When that didn’t work, he stretched his little mind and the phone zipped into his chubby hands. William fell back onto his butt as he began to play with the phone. Somehow he managed to put it on ‘silent’ but still, the buttons lit up when he pressed down on them hard enough. "Will, baby, come here, Mommy needs to put your coat on," Scully called out. William, after one of two tries, successfully put the cell phone into the front pocket of his bib overalls and then pulled himself up and toddled over to his mother. His mother, so desolate over losing her first child again and so upset over his father’s insensitivity, did not even notice the square shaped lump in front of his overall. She just figured it was some sort of toy he wanted so she pulled his little sweatshirt on, pulled his hood over his head and swept him up in her arms. "Let’s go, sweet William," she said automatically as she grabbed the diaper bag, her purse and briefcase. She thought her cell was in her purse. And she left the television on. *** Later… Room 333 The Marriott Hotel Downtown Washington DC 9:21 AM Eastern Standard Time Bravo woke up before Carlos. She slid out of bed silently and padded over to the pile of clothes on the floor. She didn’t get dressed though. Instead she reached for the black boots she had wore to the hotel and taken off once inside the room while waiting for Carlos to wake up.. Inside the boot was a small flat pouch, similar to what a diabetic may use to carry a syringe and insulin in. Only there was no insulin in this pouch. Bravo quickly and expertly filled up the syringe with just enough diphenhydramine to guarantee a nice long nap for Carlos. Granted, a few more milligrams would make the nap permanent. But Bravo, as much as she hated cats, had the very feline characteristics of playing with her victims before eating them alive. Before they died, she wanted to have Lux Carlos, John Doggett and Fox Mulder see how magnificently she maneuvered them on this chessboard and how spectacularly they lost. She walked back over towards the bed, admiring the hard biceps and chiseled torso. A fiendish smile crossed her lips. It was incredibly tempting to wake him up for one more go-around, completely wearing him out, then leaving. Again, she congratulated Starkweather in her selection in the male category. Last night with Carlos had been extraordinary, beyond what even Bravo, who had used her body as a tool against many other men, expected. <<Yummy>> she couldn’t help thinking as she slipped the needle underneath his flesh, finding a vein right away and not just any vein, the jugular vein. The pin prick in his neck woke him up. Bravo pushed the plunger of the syringe, sending the sleeping drugs through his body. "Go back to sleep, Lux," Bravo purred as she leaned against him, brushing his lips against his. "But…" Carlos tried to say but then an unnatural sleepiness fogged his mind. "Thy drugs are quick," Bravo snorted, capping the syringe then crouching down to put it back in her boot. She dressed quickly. She didn’t bother searching Carlos’ clothes or coat because he had nothing of value to her anymore. He have given her everything she needed. Placing the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside door handle, Bravo shut the door quietly and walked down the quiet hallway towards the elevator. Once in the elevator, she dug into Starkweather’s coat pocket and produced a pair of plain FBI approved sunglasses. Her heart was pounding, the way it did before a big hit was about to go down. As the elevator opened, she smiled at the various people who boarded as she walked off. It was a perfect spring day in the nation’s capitol. The cherry blossoms were starting to bloom. Bravo walked to the parking garage where she had left Starkweather’s car. As she unlocked the driver’s side door, the cell phone hooked to the waistband of her jeans started to ring. "What the hell?" she muttered, then groaned "Oh Jesus," before answering. "Hey Doggett, there’s this concept called sleeping in…" "What?" Bravo about dropped the phone. "Yeah, she’s comin’ back." "Okay. Well… I’ll come pick you up at your apartment, okay? Around three or so." Meanwhile, Doggett stared at the phone, not hearing the obnoxious dial tone. "John…" he said wonderingly. After getting his coffee, he sat back down again. And dialed a different number. "Mulder." "What are you doin’ this afternoon?" "Can you come with me this afternoon?" "How many other Monicas do you know?" "Well, actually-" "Hey Mul-duh?" He spied a note on the kitchen table. "Oh damn," he sighed as he read it: "Went to J. Edgar to work on case files. Took William with. Be back later." "God," he groaned as he pulled his cell phone back out, dialing Carlos’ number. "It’s me, call me when you get in." Mulder paced in the living room for a bit. Langly said Starkweather was acting erratically at NeoX’s, acting like she didn’t recognize him. Langly also said that Reyes didn’t believe that it was Starkweather but she had no proof it was an imposter. Langly had told him that Reyes tried to talk to Doggett about her suspicions, that Teresa’s kidnapping had been orchestrated to silence her. But Doggett essentially turned a deaf ear. <<Something though>> Mulder thought as he collapsed on the couch. <<is making Doggett question that now. Otherwise he would have never asked if I thought she was ‘okay.’" Mulder froze. Who was the last person to see Bravo alive? <<"Stand down, Bravo.">>
<<"You're not a free woman, Agent Starkweather..." >> <<"Stand down.">> <<"They'll never let you go.">> <<"Goddamn it, get off of there...">> <<"... never let you have a normal life...">> <<"I'm warning you, you fucking bitch, get down..." >> <<"There's not a goddamn thing you can do about it either. Not a fucking thing in the world because you AREN'T one of them. You're one of US.">> Was it possible… No… she wasn’t alien… she wasn’t a replicant… "Take the shot…" Mulder whispered aloud, remembering Carlos screaming at her over their headsets to take Bravo out while Doggett was appealing to her humanity, her values, her very self… <<"Doc, don't...">> <<"Stay out of this.">>
<<"Shove it up your ass, Carlos.">> But Starkweather did not take the shot. She tried in vain to learn the whereabouts of Gibson Praise. <<Mulder, help me>> Mulder sat up on the couch, coated in a cold sweat… "Oh God," he said. "The dream…" Only now he knew it was no dream… *** January 3, 2001 Mulder bolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. Scully looked up from her cot, concerning creasing her forehead. She was surrounded by files, she had been reading up on Purity while Mulder slept. She had felt extremely uncomfortable being in the same room with him, but there was no where else to go. Seeing how his face was changing from gray to green, she started to ask him what was the matter, but then he suddenly rolled out of bed, lunged for the garbage can and threw up.
Scully clambered over her papers and got down on the floor beside him. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Mulder didn't answer right away, after being sick, he had to contend with the dry heaves first before he had breath enough to speak. "I had a..." he wiped the sweat off of his face. "It was one of those dreams that was so damn real..." he shook his head. "It's nothing Scully, I'm fine. I think, I'm just stressed." "We're all stressed," Scully said, rubbing his back… The partners sat in silence for a while. Then Mulder reached for her small hand. Scully studied his face. "What did you dream about Mulder?" "I... I dreamt I saw Starkweather, walking, bleeding to death along the side of the road, running after Gibson. She pulled a gun on him and forced him to heal her." "Heal her?" "Yes, just like the Gray Shape shifters can. I heard Gibson calling out to me, saying "Help me, Mulder." I could hear it so clearly, it was as if he was here in the room with us. It was..." he shook his head in self-depreciation. "Spooky," he finished lamely. He reached out and stroked Scully's cheek. "I think you're right, it was just a bad dream caused by extreme stress…" *** "It wasn’t a dream," Mulder said, sitting up again and grabbing his phone. For extra security measures, he ran outside of Scully’s apartment to make the call. He very much doubted that they learned how to make bugs to resemble garden plants and cherry blossoms. "Hola?" "Mulder!" Mulder had to hold the phone away from his ear. He forgot what a big cheerful voice Manny Ibarra had. "Is the boy okay?" It had started as a beautiful spring morning. But Mulder could see menacing gray clouds starting to build in the east. The coolness of morning was dissipating, miserable humidity replacing the spring freshness. He plodded back into Scully’s apartment and locked the door. He tried to call Carlos again, but there was still no answer. Frustrated, he laid back down on the couch. There was not a damned thing he could do until he got word back from Gibson Praise. Because Scully and Doggett wouldn’t believe him otherwise. *** Later… Dulles Airport 3:59 PM Eastern Standard Time. Bravo sat next to Doggett nervously. She had one shot at this, one opportunity. If she did not take care of Reyes right now, everything would be blown. Arsenic was such a lovely little weapon in its powder form. She would make the suggestion to hit a bar or something, get Reyes a drink, dump her little surprise into Reyes’ glass and let nature take its course. This entire clusterfuck would have never happened if the Old Men of the Syndicate would have just listened to her and let her kill her from the get-go. But oh no. We need Reyes alive, they said. <<Bullshit>> Bravo thought. <<Kill them all.>> As she twisted the locket chain around her neck, Doggett looked at her and asked "Somethin’ on your mind?" Starkweather smiled at him and said "Later. After we get Reyes home," she touched his knee. He looked at her, eyebrows knit together. "Okay…" was all he said. Then he looked up. "There she is, c’mon." He held out his hand and Bravo slipped her hand into his, allowing him to help her up. Sleep deprivation, grief and worry already had Reyes on edge. When she saw Doggett and Bravo approach her, she completely lost it. "What is she doing her?" she asked hysterically, sounding like a jilted lover. "I asked to come," Bravo adapted Starkweather’s no-bullshit tone of voice. "I’m worried about you, Reyes." "You bitch!" Reyes screamed. "You bitch, I’ll kill you myself, I swear to God!" As Reyes continued to shake Bravo, she said "God dammit, Reyes, don’t make me hurt you!" A very Starkweatherian thing to saw. She pretended to struggle to get out of Reyes’ grip although it really wouldn’t have taken much to free herself from Reyes. Mulder had just returned from the men’s restroom when he saw the scene commencing. He rushed to them, pushing his way past frightened civilians and showing his CIA ID discreetly to the National Guardsmen and airport security that was approaching the little circle. Mulder helped pry Reyes off of Bravo and Bravo retreated behind Doggett. "Mulder, let me write her a prescription for Valium," Bravo shouted to him as Mulder restrained Reyes. "I’ll get Scully to take care of it, Doggett… um, why don’t you take Jerilyn home? I’ll… take care of things here," Mulder said peacefully as Reyes continued to struggle against him, saying almost hysterically "It’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her, dammit somebody listen to me!" "Come on, Doc," Doggett said, putting his arm over Bravo’s shoulders. "Let’s get outta here." "Listen to me," he said lowly, quietly, "I believe you." "And who she is." Reyes whispered "I think Bravo’s back." Reyes shook his head. "She’s dead." Mulder looked at her, "Look who you’re talking to, Agent Reyes. Death is not always that hard to cheat. I think after Bravo performed her swan dive from the bridge in Arizona, her body was retrieved and there was life left in her to be completely healed. Possibly by Gibson Praise, who was still their prisoner at that time. He’s in hiding, but I’ve sent a message to him and am anticipating on hearing from him hopefully soon." "You, go home. Call the guys and tell them to start monitoring Starkweather’s apartment twenty-four-seven. If anything happens, even if it’s just the cat getting a left-cheek-sneak, I want to know about it. Then get what rest you can. I may need you later. Maybe sooner than later. I’m going to re-visit the Eden Project case files I think." And try to find Lux Carlos. Where the hell has he been??? A little later Outside Starkweather’s apartment 4:15 PM Eastern Standard Time Doggett let Bravo out of his truck and together they walked up the sidewalk towards the old Victorian house that was converted into trendy apartments for yuppies and single FBI agents. Doggett loosened his tie. "Jesus, it’s humid." Doggett slid his tie off but left his jacket on. He had too. Technically, he was still on duty so he had his service weapon on him. The coat concealed his Sig Sauer from civilian eyes. "Maybe the rain would cool things off." "Want me to come take a look at it?" He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his sweat-damped dress shirt. Doggett, as usual, cut to the chase. "What’s going on, Starkweather?" he asked wearily. "Somethin’s on your mind. You’ve been awful quiet." "Sit down," she said quietly. "We need to talk." "Let’s just be friends." Bravo sat down beside him. "I don’t where to start." "How ‘bout the beginning? That’s a good of a place as any." Doggett snorted. "Carlos." She nodded. "When you were in California, with Reyes… I sought him out after I had gotten mugged. To see if he could help me figure out what happened to me. To see if Teresa’s kidnapping was really tied to my reappearance." "And?" <<Dammit, he is not going to make this easy>> Bravo seethed. She wished she could just slit his throat. Be so much easier. "And… he asked me to give him a second chance." She waited for his response. When he didn’t provide one, she said "I should have never married Ben. I loved Ben, but… he was a rebounder. From Lux. So when Lux asked me to give him a second shot…" Bravo discovered that watching him struggle with his suffering was exquisitely entertaining and was then glad she didn’t have to physically kill him. Killing his spirit was oddly more satisfying. "I’m sorry," she said, making her voice sound hoarse. "I know you are," he said. "But that doesn’t make it any better. Or easier. To understand." "Um… well, okay. Who was the love of your life?" she asked him. "I mean, the big one." Doggett studied the pavement for a long time before answering. Bravo could have choked him for being so slow. "Well…" he said quietly. "Before all this… I thought it was you." "I am serious," Doggett said. "I thought… I mean, I know I said take things one day at a time… but… I guess… this means that everything we’ve said and did… means nothing." "That’s not true! It’s not nothing. It’s not! It’s just that… oh God… Doggett… I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. You’re the sun, the moon and the stars to me… but Carlos is the world... I have to try. I’ll hate myself forever if I don’t take this chance." "Am I supposed to wait for you while you take this chance?" he asked her bitterly. "I don’t expect anything out of you," she whispered, managing to produce some tears. "I don’t even expect you to understand, really. I just wish you would." "I wish I could too," he said coldly. "Doggett, that isn’t fair," she told him. "I feel guilty enough as it is… but face it John, you and me… it wouldn’t work. We’d have to sneak around at work… coupled with always watching behind our backs, wondering if They’re ever going to come back for one of us…" "I know," he said miserably. "I just thought… that you and me were worth that chance. I thought you showin’ up on my doorstep was my second chance." "I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I wish there was something more I could say…" "John wait-" "Jerilyn, don’t," he pleaded with her. "Just don’t. Whatever you say is not gonna make it better, okay? You made your choice. And I respect it. But don’t expect me to be happy ‘bout it. Okay?" Bravo rubbed salt into his injured ego and broken heart. "This is why I was afraid to tell you right away." "Well, Jesus… Doc… after everything, how did you expect me to react?" "Not like this. I knew you weren’t going to be happy, but I didn’t expect you to react like this…" "Like how?" Doggett lost his temper. "Ben didn’t trust you. Now I’m beginning to see why." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bravo retorted, injecting a lot of malice into her voice. "And where do you get off acting like a jealous husband? We aren’t married. Hell, we aren’t even dating. Or sleeping together. Or anything. A real relationship between us just isn’t possible and you know that! So back off." Doggett looked like she had slapped him. "Okay…" he said softly. "Fine. If that’s what you want…" "Mulder."
"What’s wrong?" *** Meanwhile… The Lone Gunmen’s Lair Tacoma Falls 4:44 PM Eastern Standard Time "This is stupid," Frohike complained vigorously. "I tend to agree," Byers said, taking off his drab brown suit jacket and hanging it neatly in the closet. "This request of Reyes’ seems to be a waste of time." "Yeah," Frohike grumbled. "We could be looking for Yves."
"Scary?" Byers asked. "Bitchy?" Frohike added.
"Jesus," Frohike groaned. "Blondie, how can you think that? That woman couldn’t find a post-it note even if you stuck it on her ass." Langly ignored Frohike’s remark as a sound caught his ear He sat up and pressed the earphone closer to his ear. "Someone’s comin’ in through her front door." A crackle of static, then an irritable feminine voice. "Move, you fucking cat." "What?" Byers asked. "That’s not something Starkweather would say." "Why not?" Frohike asked. "She cusses like a sailor and that cat is a god-dammed nightmare." "Up the volume, Byers," Frohike muttered. "Reyes made not be moving from the Realm of Reality to the Isle of Insanity quite yet…" "Shh!" Frohike shushed Byers as the feminine voice crackled through the speakers. There was a beeping noise. "Cell phone," Byers muttered. Then, her voice again. And it sounded pissed. "You dumb son-of-a-bitch, why couldn’t you have stalled Reyes in Mexico? Held up her passport, sabotaged her plane, SOMETHING??? ... No, you fuck, the ENTIRE point of kidnapping Teresa Reyes was to distract Reyes, Doggett and Mulder. YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KILL HER. Now Reyes is going to be harder to deal with than before. Which makes my job all that more difficult. She already blabbed to everyone that she doesn’t think I’m Starkweather. Thanks a fucking lot, asshole. It’s not going to take long for them to figure it out that I didn’t die in Arizona that day." Frohike licked his lips. "Call Mulder." "… if this mission goes wrong, it’s on your head. I had to do some fast thinking to shake Doggett off of me and send him back to Reyes... yeah, well, sorry isn’t good enough… you better start sleeping with one eye open, buddy. Because after this mission, my NEXT mission, is you." "What mission?" Frohike wondered. "I can’t get a hold of Mulder," Byers said. "It keeps going to voice mail. "Keep trying!" Frohike said. "Langly, you try and get through to Scully." "Dammit, somebody answer!" Frohike snapped as he got Reyes’ voice mail. "Voice mail!" Langly moaned. "Shh!" Byers said, pointing to the speakers. "… it goes down tonight. It goes down now." Then there was a beep of a cell phone being hung up. "WHAT goes down??" Langly said. "Who the fuck could impersonate Starkweather THAT good?" Frohike said. "Lilly Stratford?"
"Bravo?" Byers asked in a thin voice. "She’s dead," Frohike said. "Did a half-gainer off a bridge in Arizona." "Oh fuck me," Frohike sucked in a deep breath. Langly turned green. "They still got Starkweather!" Byers was already walking back to the closet to get his coat. "Let’s go," he said crisply.
"To Scully’s," Byers said. "Wouldn’t that be Bravo’s most obvious target?" Byers shook his head. "William." *** Meanwhile… Outside of City Hall Washington DC 4:59 PM Eastern Standard Time Mulder stood on the steps impatiently, looking up at the cloudy skies. And felt slightly paranoid. After all, he nearly died a few months ago when the Syndicate’s assassins drove by, shooting anything that moved, but specifically aiming for him. Well, he didn’t die. Mulder jumped when he heard tires squealing. Then relaxed when he saw Doggett’s truck pull up. Mulder walked towards it, hands in his coat pockets. "Doggett," Mulder said as Doggett got out of his truck. "What the hell is going on?" "I told you," Doggett said darkly, his eyes narrowed as he shut the truck door. "On the phone. That ain’t Starkweather. Where’s Scully? Is she home? I was trying to reach her," he said anxiously. "But she’s not answering her home or her cell." <<Arrogant shit>> Doggett thought furiously as he said "I thought Starkweather was being distant as a result of what had happened to her-" Carlos still hadn’t gotten back to Mulder.
"She said that she and Carlos got back together while I was in California helpin’ Reyes find Teresa." Dammit, why couldn’t Gibson or Carlos get back to him? Then he could support Doggett and Reyes and Langly… Scully would not side with him without proof on this one. Not this time. Not after what just happened with Emily. "Mulder, I thought that it was a done deal too, until the last thing she said before I walked away." "I was tryin’ not to be a prick about the whole thing and was tryin’ not to leave on a bad note but I lost my temper an’…" Doggett lost his stride. "She… uh… accused me of bein’ jealous like Ben and… I said somethin’ about now I understand why Ben didn’t trust her and… um…"
"Said what?" Mulder noticed Doggett’s sudden discomfort. "What did she say?"
"Okay… so you’re basing this on the fact she thinks you were acting like an asshole?"
Mulder’s jaw dropped. "You slept with my sister!?!?!?!?!" "Half-sister," Doggett muttered, out of habit. *** "Never cared for what they say "So close no matter how far January 8, 2002 Moe's Dive "That," Starkweather said as the song winded down. "Was our wedding song. Our first dance." "Oh..." Doggett wasn't sure what to say at first. Then he grinned a little. "Trust you to pick a heavy metal number for a wedding song." She laughed a little, shaking her head. "We got into a fight about it, shock surprise," she said, rolling her eyes as she nursed her drink. "I just love this song. It’s so powerful and… at the risk of sounding "cheesy" but I… I thought that song symbolized everything love was supposed to be… Ben wanted something a little less metal… I whined and got my way," she took a long draw from her drink. "We had a beautiful wedding though." Doggett hurt for her. He didn't know how in the hell she was holding up. She was so still. Just like that horrible day when Ben had been killed and he found her sitting alone in the chapel, still covered with her husband's blood. He wished she would cry, yell, scream. Something. Anything to show her humanity. "Doc," he asked her tentatively. "How can you handle all of this? All of this shit that's happenin' to you?" She smiled, like a trusting child, almost innocently. "As long as I can have the good memories, I can handle the bad." "You don't have to handle the bad by yourself you know." Starkweather felt tears threatening to overtake her. It took her a long time before she trusted herself to even speak and even then, her voice broke. "I know, Papa John..." she reached out and touched the top of his hand."That's why you're part of the good." She stood up abruptly. "I'll be right back, she said huskily as she turned to run somewhere to hide. But Doggett placed his other hand on top the small hand she had placed over his. Starkweather froze. Doggett shook his head once, telling her not to go. She looked at his hand, and saw her wedding ring, still on his pinkie. She finally opened herself up in a way she never thought she would in front of anyone. Her shoulders bunched together and she covered her face with her other hand as she started to sob, finally experiencing the overwhelming sorrow she had kept putting off and putting off. Doggett pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. "Shh... shh..." he whispered."It's okay, I'm here... I'm here..." From the corner of the bar, Lux Carlos stood up, left a twenty for the waitress and walked out. Doggett’s back was to the door, so he didn’t notice him walk out. Even if her face hadn’t been buried into Doggett’s coat, she was crying so hard, she could barely see. As he rested his cheek against her hair, he quietly asked the bartender, "Can ya call us a cab? Neither one of us can drive." "Sure, buddy," the bartender said. "No problem. Got the number on speed dial." After he called the Yellow Cab Company for the federal agents, he hollered out. "Alright folks, drink ‘em up! Last call! Last call for alcohol!" In a lower voice, he told Doggett, "Cab’ll be here in about five minutes." "Thanks," Doggett said, struggling for his wallet. Starkweather straightened up and pushed her hair out of her swollen eyes. She had stopped sobbing, but was still sniffling. "I got it," she said, laying a credit card on the bar. Before Doggett could protest, the bartender swiped the card through the credit check machine. He handed Starkweather a receipt. "Sign at the bottom, Miss Mulder." After watching his partner commit fraud, he said, "Let’s go, Doc." Starkweather allowed him to help her with her coat and lead her outside. Normally she enjoyed bickering with him about his old fashioned Southern courtesy. After the past few days, she felt severely drained. Closing her eyes, she leaned into him again, shivering as the winter wind picked up. She felt his arms encircle her again. Just as she was starting for feel warm again, the cab pulled up to the curb. Doggett opened the door for her and she slipped in. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She heard the cabbie ask gruffly, "Where to?" "I don’t live in Falls Church," she mumbled. "Yeah… but you ain’t spending tonight by yourself. Not after… not after all that shit." She sighed. "Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever." "No. Not Sure. Fine. Whatever," Doggett pulled her ring off his finger. He looked over. "You’ve been through a hellish ordeal, you’re tired and you’re drunk." "Oh, Doc, one more thing," he said, and tossed her ring. "Some proposal," she deadpanned, "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 losing 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 leaving me, 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, because 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." She flexed her fingers after he had put the ring on. She never liked the size or cut of the diamond. Too big for her taste and it always snagged her sweaters, but she never complained because she didn’t want to hurt Ben’s feelings. "Well… maybe I can… but… can he forgive me?" She shook her head. "Never mind. That was a stupid-assed question." "Forgive you for what Doc?" Starkweather looked up at him. And repeated what she had said to him in the lounge room right before Eagle’s Ridge had been attacked. "Because Ben was right." Doggett reached out and caressed the side of her face with his fingertips. When she closed her eyes, he traced the outline of her jaw, his thumb grazing her lips. "I never meant… I didn’t…" "You didn’t break up our marriage, Papa John," she said quietly. "Ben and I broke up our marriage." She swallowed, fighting another wave of tears. "Sorry," she said thickly. Doggett slid over closer to her and Starkweather curled up to him, resting her face against the crook of his arm. He didn’t say anything, but he periodically would wipe away her tears during the rest of the cab ride to Falls Church. Snow started to fall by the time the cab pulled up into Doggett’s driveway. "Forty-five dollars," the cab driver announced as the agents got out of the cab. Doggett gave him two twenties and a ten. "Keep it," he told the cabbie. "Have a good night," the cabbie said as Doggett and Starkweather turned and walked towards Doggett’s house. As Doggett opened the door, a cranky yowl greeted them. "Caesar!" she said joyously, kneeling down in the foray as her beloved tabby wound his way around her, meowing complaints incessantly. Doggett glared at Caesar. "Damn cat." "At least I don’t sing to cats." "To save money, I would housesit and pet-sit over the summer. While I was in med school. And I watched the cat of this one professor of mine. She was nuts. She left me a three page typed list of instructions on the care of her cat, Roscoe. And every night, I was supposed to sing Roscoe’s bedtime song. See, this is where is sucks to have a photographic memory because I can still remember that damn song. ‘Roscoe, Roscoe, the Wonder Ca-‘" She yawned. "Oh God, I’m tired…" She scratched Caesar’s ears one more time, then put him on the floor. "Okay, kitten-critter, go away." Caesar continued to wind around her ankles as Starkweather took off her coat. "I mean it Caesar, go away." She held out her jacket and scarf to Doggett. "Where do you want these?"
As he hung her coat up in the hall closet, Starkweather staggered over to his sofa and flopped down. "Kitty, kitty," she beckoned the cat again as she curled up on the couch. Hurt that he had been banished, Caesar leapt up onto the armchair across the room, curled up in a heap and fell asleep. "Damn cat," she muttered, rest her head on a throw pillow. "Aw, no," Doggett said as he walked through the dimly lit living room. "You ain’t sleeping on the couch." "Yeah… well… not tonight." "I’m not moving," she informed him. "Hm… let’s see…" Doggett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Who’s bigger here… oh wait. That would be me." "So what are you gonna do? Sit on me until I agree to take your bed?" she grumbled. He knelt in front of her. "Or I could just wait for you to fall asleep again and move you." "Bullshit." He reached down for her hand and pulled on her. "C’mon," he cajoled her, standing up. "Humor me." "Fine, fine," she said, rising up from off the couch. "If it’ll make you happy." As she trailed him into his bedroom, he said "I’ve got sweats and stuff in here so you don’t have to sleep in your clothes." She paused at the doorway to his room as he walked towards his dressers. As he pulled open a drawer, he asked "Sweatshirt or t-shirt Doc?" He turned to look at her. She wasn’t listening. Her eyes were casing the room. "Doc?" Doggett nodded. "I remember now. We couldn’t wake you up to save our lives. Scully had to get home to the baby, so I took you here. Let you sleep the sleep of drugs while I did laundry." He sat beside her on the bed. A wicked little grin crossed her face. "You took my suit off." "So did you peek when you took off my clothes?" "No," Doggett said, as if he was offended she asked. "Uh-huh." "I really didn’t." "Sure." "I," Doggett proclaimed in a throaty whisper, "was a perfect gentlemen." Doggett took her face in his hands as they continued to kiss, finally opening their lips to taste each other. Cognitive thought tossed out the window, he succumbed to tactile pleasure. The softness of her pouting lips. The wetness of her little tongue. The smooth skin of her cheeks. And her long, silky hair. He reached around the back of her head and fumbled with the ponytail tie that bound her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. He felt her fingers rubbing the back of his head and neck, running through his own hair. He began to feel extremely uncomfortable in his jeans as she abandoned his mouth to lick and nibble at his ear and throat. A small voice of reason asked him if this was really such a good idea. However that voice shut up when she crawled up to him and straddled his lap while tugging at his sweater and t-shirt. Doggett more than happily shed those garments for her and as her hands slid up and down his bare chest, he leaned into her again. Kissing her throat, dallying a little longer at the spots that made her exclaim "Oh my God…" in a breathless whisper, he began to work on the buttons of her dirty blouse. Once the last button had been undone, he pushed her shirt off her shoulders just a bit. He touched the holy medal she wore on a silver chain around her neck. Saint Christopher, Patron Saint of Travel. A gift from a grateful boy they had tried to help. That case was the first time she had kissed him. As her hands now began to wander, knead and massage his back, her head completely tilted back, he dipped his own head down and began to kiss the exposed flesh as he slid his hands up her flat abdomen, grazing her breasts and sliding around to her back, finding the clasp to her bra. That was the easy part. Starkweather had been oblivious to everything except for what his wandering lips and hands and sitting on his ever-hardening crotch was doing for her. It took her a little bit to realize that what he was whispering were not sweet nothings. "Oh Got-dammit." "What the hell," he finally burst out, completely and utterly frustrated "is WRONG with this?" He tugged on the back of her bra, accidentally letting it go and snapping it. "OW!!!!" "Sorry!" Doggett huffed "It ain’t been so long that I can’t remember how to undo a girl’s bra." However, Starkweather was having just as much problems he was. "Oh my God… oh my fucking God… it’s **stuck**!!!" "For a bra?" "This isn’t funny!" she tried to keep a straight face but a giggle escaped. "Yeah it is…" Doggett wrapped his arms around her waist. "It’s funny as hell." "So, would this be filed as an X-File?" she asked him, undulating her pelvis against his. Bras can be worked around. She leaned into him, pushing him gently down. "You know…" she whispered before she kissed him again. "If I can’t get your jeans undone, then we’ll know we’re cursed." Starkweather lowered herself down on him, kissing his forehead, his temples, his nose and his cheeks before touching his lips. She lay on top of him, one hand stroking his face and hair, the other, his thigh. He groaned and shifted his weight until her body pressed down on him at all the right pressure points. His hands skated up and down her back, her behind and the sides of her legs. He shouldn’t have been, but he was surprised how muscular she was. Touching her was little like touching marble, hard and smooth. Carefully, he rolled her over to her back. She arched her back as he dragged his mouth down her throat to her chest. Doggett dealt with the issue of the Mighty Stay Put bra by just pulling down one of the cups. He felt her shiver as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. She arched her back again and started to run her fingers through his hair again as he began suck and kiss one breast while sliding a hand into the cup of the other and massage it. Meanwhile, ever vigilant, Caesar’s head perked up when he heard strange grunting and moaning noises coming from the end of the house. Curious, he leapt off the chair with a grace only a feline would know and stealthily made his way down the darkened hallway. With a single bound, he leaped onto the bed. His tail puffed up two sizes as he witnessed the Human Who Talks Funny laying on top of his mistress, wiggling around. It looked like he was biting her. His mistress was complaining. "Oh God… please…" By this point, Doggett had slid his hand into her slacks. All he did was un-do the zipper and slide his hand inside. His fingers had wormed its way underneath her cotton panties and slowly, sensually sought out the places that would make her toes curl and then some. "Oh my God," she moaned as she writhed against him, his mouth still on her breast. Caesar did what any good cat would have done. "ARRGGHHH!!" Doggett yelped in shock and pain as Caesar jumped on him and started kneading his back with his claws. As Doggett jerked his arms back to get the cat off, he came down with his full weight onto Starkweather. "GET OFF ME GET OFF ME!!!" she shrieked; arms and legs flailing. Doggett rolled off of her, trying to squish Caesar. With one last parting swipe, Caesar scurried away. "FUCKING CAT!!!" Doggett hollered after him. "**Jesus.**" "Maybe I should think about getting Caesar declawed…" "We can do it right now," Doggett growled. "I got a pair of rusty pliers in my garage." She made a tsking sound. "Come on," she said, sliding off the bed. "Dr. Starkweather’s here." She reached for his hand. "Got a first aid kit somewhere?" "I’ll meet you there," she told him as she left the bedroom.
"Here." Doggett turned around at the sound of her voice. She held a tumbler in each hand. One glass contained Jack Daniels neat. The other glass held a liquid that was roughly the same color as urine. "What the hell is that?" Doggett asked, taking the glass of straight Jack from her. "Lynchberg Lemonade," she told him, taking a sip. "You were out of Coke but you had lemonade. I can’t drink Jack straight." Doggett took a drink, then set the glass on the counter and then leaned over the sink as Starkweather attended to his wounds. He tried not to flinch when the cotton pads soaked in cold cleaning alcohol touched his skin but he couldn’t help it. "God that stings." "A little," he said as he reached for his glass again. He felt her fingers soothingly applying the salve to the cleaned scratches. The salve was cool, her fingers warm. "Are we done?" He turned his head. She didn’t answer right away because she was finishing her drink. "No, I’ve got one more thing to do, so stay put." He heard the clink of the glass being set down on the linoleum. He heard her muttering something, then the sound of plastic being torn open and surgical scissors cutting through tape. He then felt her hands nimbly applying sterile gauze and taping it firmly to his back. "Some of the scratches," she said when she was completed, "were pretty deep. You might have some scars now. But you should be okay. I don’t know what got into him." She double checked the bandages one more time to make sure they were firmly attached. She then encircled her arms around his waist and kissed the middle of his back. "The prognosis is you’ll live." Doggett placed his hands over hers. "I’d feel better if I could strangle your cat." <<Maybe this ain’t such a hot idea, it’s too soon, her husband’s barely cold, she’s upset, she’s looking for comfo->> <<… and… she’s scared and she’s lonely and… oh God… >> Her hands now started to explore the fly of his jeans. <<… and… oh Jesus that feels good… no… I can’t…>> Her fingers were undoing each snap of his button fly jeans. <<… and this could cost us our jobs… and…> She now spread his jeans open and slipped her hands inside. <<… Mulder would kill me if he knew I fucked his sister…>> He felt her face and her breasts pressing against his body. She was kissing his back as her hands teased him. He was gripping the edge of the sink. The little voice of reason dissipated again. When she slid her hands out of his jeans, he turned around. Starkweather, being so short, stood up on her toes and kissed him hungrily on the mouth as he generously reciprocated. He leaned against the sink as she licked and bit and kissed her way back down to his open jeans. She ran her tongue against the strained bulge in his boxers, tasting cotton. "Oh Jesus…" Doggett groaned gripping the edge of the sink again as he felt her tugging his jeans and boxers away from him. Her fingers ran up and down his thighs as her tongue continued to tease his erection. When she actually took him into her mouth, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, it was all he could do to remind standing. His legs felt like they wouldn’t have worked anymore anyway. Starkweather was not naïve in the matters in between the sheets so she didn’t stay down there for too long. For her, that act was more of a preview of coming attractions rather than the grand finale. Besides, she tried to avoid the whole issue of "spit or swallow" anyway. As she rose back up to her feet, she drew her tongue up from his crotch, up his belly, up his throat and lightly licked his lips, again on tiptoe at this point. One of her hands remained on his erection, still petting and teasing it. She strained on her toes to be able to reach his face with her mouth. Doggett helped her by cupping her ass and lifting her up, pressing himself closer to her. She hooked her leg around him and clung to his shoulders, devouring his kisses voraciously as she also pressed closer to him, wishing like hell that her slacks would spontaneously evaporate. Still, aroused to the point where even her fingernails seemed to be tingling, Starkweather still had a little ability to reason left. "Hey…" "Wha…" "Really don’t wanna do this in a bathroom." "Kay…" he huffed, letting her slide down his body. He guided her out the bathroom and kept backing her up while kissing her until she gently bumped up against a wall. "How ‘bout the hallway?" he asked as he lowered her bra straps. She pulled her arms out of them quickly. "Sure," she said as she lifted her arms up while Doggett pulled the stubborn bra off over her head as if it was a t-shirt. Throwing it to the floor, he then pressed up against her, kissing her hard and deep now. Starkweather leaned her head against the wall and spread her arms out as Doggett undid the button of her slacks and pulled them down as he proceeded to kneel in front of her. Her underwear came off with her pants and she stepped out of them quickly. Feeling Doggett’s insistent fingers, she spread her legs a little more and soon felt his mouth and tongue on her as his hands slid up and down on her body, lingering on her breasts for a moment, then sliding back down. His tongue made love to her in agonizingly leisurely rotations. She gasped "Oh God, please," again. He pulled away long enough for her to drop to her knees as well. As he helped her lay down on the floor, he surprised himself by having sense enough to ask her about birth control. Well, it wasn’t a fully formed sentence, but she managed to get the gist of it. "It’s okay," she told him in deep shuddery breaths as she felt him hovering over her. She reached up for his face again as she spread her legs. "It’s okay…" she reassured him again, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her. She raised her hips to better accommodate him, felt his fingers slipping inside of her again. "I’m still on the Pill." She slipped her hand back into his jeans to start guiding him where she wanted him to go. "Trust me," she groaned as she stroked him again. "I wouldn’t be going here if I wasn’t on anything…" After that affirmation, he kissed her greedily as he began to enter her. Starkweather, forgetting about the cat scratches, clung to his back as they slowly began to move together. Starkweather registered dimly that her back was getting carpet-burned but that was a minor sensation compared to the feeling of the man on top of her. The combined feeling of denim, cotton and hard wet flesh moving in between her thighs eroticized her immensely. She slid her hands down his muscular back, resenting the bandages that covered the skin she wanted to touch. She continued to move her hands down, to his lower back and into his jeans. Moving her hands into his boxers, she massaged his ass, encouraging him to go faster, harder, deeper. Her back arched off the floor again as her hips ground against his. If Caesar would have attacked his back now, Doggett probably wouldn’t have noticed. He was close to climaxing but he was trying like hell to hold off until he got some sort of a sign from Starkweather that she was close too. He shifted his body a little and he must have hit something right inside of her because she made a high-pitched exclamation of ecstasy and squeezed her vaginal muscles tighter around him. Doggett lost control at that point and pushed in and out of her faster, pressure and desire snowballing now. He kissed her just as she came and her body quivered all over, her hands sliding out of his jeans so she could wrap her arms around his neck while she was still shaking from orgasm. His came shortly after that and he felt a warm, wet, welcomed relief. Feeling better, he gasped for air from his climax. He pulled out of her, feeling sweaty and sticky and shaky. Finally, he shucked off his moist jeans and boxers, damp from their sweat and his semen and threw them aside.
He wasn’t the only one short of breath. Starkweather’s eyes fluttered open when she felt him get off of her and gently grab her arms to help her sit up. "Wow…" she croaked out, pushing her tangled hair out of her sweaty face. "I can’t feel my feet." Doggett gathered her close, too tired to feel lust again but never too tired to appreciate the feel of a young, naked woman pressing against his bare chest. "Is that a good thing?" "You’re right, you’re only twelve years older than me… which means when you were seventeen, I was five." A flash of light caught his eye and he looked down. The diamond of her wedding ring glinted mockingly at him. Suddenly, he did feel like a dirty old man. A very tired and very old dirty man. Starkweather sensed his mood changing, but she didn’t know why. "Hey," she said, sitting up, looking at his face. "You planning on sleeping on the hallway floor?" He leaned in and kissed her a few times before replying "No… wasn’t plannin’ on it." He took her hands and together they stood up. "Go ‘head and use the bathroom first," he told her. "There’s a robe in there if you’re cold." Starkweather, after watching appreciatively Doggett’s bare backside as he walked away, went into the bathroom. She took an extremely quick shower, scrubbing down with a bar of Dial soap, a fragrance she always associated with him. Dial soap and Obsession cologne. He didn’t wear cologne or aftershave very often, but once in a while, she would catch of a whiff of it. "Oh crap," she muttered when she noticed he only had Pert Plus 2-in-1 shampoo and no conditioner. "My hair is going to be a rat’s nest," she bitched as she quickly soaped up her hair and rinsed, trying to get the snarls out of her hair with her fingers. She realized she would have to re-wash her hair when she got home. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a big towel around her body and stepped up to the sink to wash her face and hands. As she dried her hands, the towel got hooked on her wedding ring. "Shit," she muttered as she pulled the towel off. She looked at the ring. It felt very heavy on her hand. Feeling shaky again, she slowly sat down on the toilet, putting her right hand to her mouth. Tears began to slide down her face. "Oh God," she snuffled, reaching for a scrap of toilet paper and dabbing her face with it. Composing herself, she reached for a robe that had seen better days and threw it over her self. Thankful the house was dark; she shut the lights off in the bathroom and made her way back to the bedroom. She found the sweatshirt Doggett was going to give her to sleep in laying on the floor. She put it on and hung the robe and towel neatly on a hook on the back of Doggett’s bedroom door. After turning off the bedroom lights, she threw the comforter back and curled up in the bed. She closed her eyes listened to him walking through his house. She smiled despite herself. She knew that Doggett was picking up their remains of their passion, the clothes they had scattered here and there. Only he could be so anal-retentive. She heard a light switch being turned on. She heard the shower turn on again and run for a little while. Then when it was switched off, she heard water dripping from the faucet. The toilet flushing. The light being turned off. As she heard him coming, she closed her eyes and started breathing through her mouth, pretending to be asleep. "Doc?" he said softly. "Jerilyn?" She didn’t respond. She felt the blankets move as he slipped into bed. She felt his lips on her temple and his body spooning around hers, a well-defined arm draping over her. Grateful for his presence, Starkweather tried to relax and void the guilt out of her system long enough to get some rest. She didn’t have to try to relax very hard, sleep found her for once instead of the other way around. But the guilt remained. *** The next morning… January 8, 2002 Doggett’s house 5:45 AM Eastern Standard Time The alarm clock buzzed obnoxiously. Doggett groaned, reached over and gave it a good thump. His head reminded him of how late he stayed up last night and how much he had to drink. He rubbed his forehead with a groan. "Rough night?" Doggett sat up. Starkweather was sitting Indian style at the foot of his bed, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her. Caesar was purring in her lap. "What’re you doin’ up?" he grumbled, now rubbing his face. "You should be sleeping." Doggett sat up a little more and perceived that she was dressed, more or less. Same slacks as last night, same dirty socks, but she had his sweatshirt on. It reached to her knees and she had rolled the sleeves back several times. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Awkwardness began to congeal in the room as Doggett, wearing only a frown, completely sat up now, his back leaning against the headboard as he rested his arms on his crooked knees. The covers decorously covered everything below the waist. He rubbed his face again and said "So…" "Now what?" she finished his question. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I dunno…" "Was it a mistake?" Her voice came out the way she wanted it to. Calm. Quiet. No sign of weakness. "Last night?" He looked at her affectionately. "Doc…" Self-conscious, he stopped, then started again. "Doc…it hasn’t been a real big secret that… umm… that I… have had less than professional feelin’s ‘bout you." "Aw, hell, Doc, I’ve liked ya since the first day you walked into the X-Files." "Pain in the ass," he grumbled. "Sorry, go on. I love hearing about how I’m adored." She grinned. "Continue with the compliments." "Kiss my ass." "Anyway…" she muttered. "Anyway…" Awkwardness stilled his tongue again. "Anyway… um… oh hell, I’m not good at this," he said helplessly. "You said yes and no… I think I figured out the yes part," she grinned wickedly for a minute. But the grin faded when she said "But the no part…" "I don’t know what to make of last night except for what you said. It was too soon." She looked down at down at the cat in her lap. Caesar was squirming, protesting her embrace. "And… that I’m going to feel like hell if this fucks up us. I mean…" she let the cat go. Caesar leapt off the bed and darted towards the door. "You’re one of the good things I’ve got going for me right now… so…I’d hate having that ruined." "Doc, look at me." "I’m forty-one years old, Jerilyn. And I’ve been married once. I’m too old for those bullshit dating games. I’m not gonna pull one of those ‘Let’s be friends’ statements outta my ass and then blow you off. Last night was… well, last night. Okay, it happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t... we just gotta figure out where to go from here." "Well, where do you want it to go?" Starkweather asked. "Because I sure as hell don’t know. All I know is what I don’t want." "I missed that."
"Well…" Doggett said slowly. "That’s fair ‘nough." Silence descended the room again. "Well…" Starkweather said. "So… back to square one… now what?" Doggett decided to stop being such a wimp. "I think… that… um… I think that you and I have had a lot of shit happen to each other. And we need to figure out how to deal with it all." Starkweather nodded in agreement. Doggett took a breath and forced himself to continue. "But I think we can deal with our shit if we lean on each other to get through it. And just take it one day at a time. And whatever happens… whether or not we just stay really good friends or we decide we wanna try and become more… we go from there. But I wanna to be there for you Doc. Unless you do something God awful like sell national secrets to Bin Laden or decide to join the Syndicate because Bravo’s job’s open… I’m gonna be there for you. I promised you that I’ll always have your back. I’m not going back on my word just because you and I slept together and it’s weird as hell right now." In a small voice, she said, "I think you’re right." "Excuse me all the way to hell," Doggett said lightly, starting to smile. "Woman. You’re a pretty woman, Doc. Better?" "And last night was a good thing Doc. But it was too soon. You’re not over Ben and I’ve got my own shit I need to work through. Sex could royally fuck everything up if we’re not smart about it." His face fell as he said the last sentence. "I still can’t believe I said that…" he grumbled. "Get laid for the first time in years and I’m telling you we should hold off. Got-dammit, I hate bein’ responsible." "What about me?" she joked. "After last night… I’m going to be looking at washing machines in a whole different light." "Nope, Scully made him get rid of them." "Oh shut up," he grumbled, ears turning pink. She took his hand and interlocked her fingers with his. "Relax, Papa John… after all you said we should just be smart about the mattress mambo. We didn’t completely rule it out. We’ll just have to see what happens." She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. "And I’m not in any hurry. I’m not going anywhere." "Well, I am," Doggett said. "To work anyway." He looked at the clock. "I better get moving, Doc." "Call me if you need anything." "No," Doggett corrected her. "If you don’t get outta here and call a cab to take you home while I get dressed, I’m gonna call in sick, then throw you down on the bed and screw you silly." "Details," she said airily. "Although, this will probably pump up your sad little ego." "Dammit, I think I pumped up the ego too much." Starkweather kissed him on the mouth, slow and tempting. "You’re welcome," she purred against his mouth. He groaned, "Doc… go… call cab…" Starkweather slid off the bed. "You are truly something else, John Doggett," she said as she walked out of his bedroom. She paused at his doorframe. "And my life’s better because of you. You know that, right?" She left before Doggett could reply. But he could hear her singing: *** Back to the present 5:03 PM Eastern Time "You slept with my sister?!?!?!" Mulder said again. "Mul-duh…" "Mulder, let it go," Doggett said. "The point is that Starkweather would have known that and BEFORE you make the obvious smart assed comment about it not bein’ that memorable… Starkweather is more like YOU than she cares to admit. You both got photographic memories. She woulda remembered that. And there’s something else…" Just then, Mulder’s cell rang.
"Where’s the baby? With you?" "No, with Scully. Frohike, I’ve got Doggett standing here telling me that he doesn’t think that Starkweather is Starkweather. Can you back that up?" Back at City Hall, Mulder hung up the phone. "That was Frohike. He’s got proof that we’ve been had. Reyes was right from the beginning. You were right. It’s not Jerilyn. It’s Bravo." "OW! Got-damned it Mul-duh, what the fuck was THAT for??" Rubbing his jaw, Doggett yelled back at him "Would it help if I toldja I’m in love with ‘er?"
Meanwhile… A little later An undisclosed FBI safehouse Somewhere in the Washington DC area Near Ronald Reagan International Airport 5:10 PM Eastern Standard Time Bravo flashed the temporary FBI ID that Skinner gave her when she announced she was going on sabbatical. Skinner still wanted her to have access to the X-Files. She was so happy that the Federal Witness Relocation People took her suggestion that Samita and her kids be moved near the airport as it would be more convenient to able to ship them to the airport and throw them on the nearest plane out of the country if necessary. The convenience actually was more for Bravo’s sake than the Saint-Claire family. Bravo had a small cache of weapons stored in a little locker at the airport. She was pleasantly surprised that the new security measures didn’t affect her little hoard of guns and knives. All she needed was the gun Starkweather had lost last December, in the caves below the Eden Project. After Alpha had finished beating the snot out of her while Doggett and Starkweather made their getaway, Bravo had crawled over to it and pocketed it. Then hid it away for future use. You never know when you need a federally issued weapon. The FBI agents waved her inside. Bravo walked down the hall casually, wearing the long black leather trench coat again with a pair of clingy khakis colored slacks that Starkweather would never wear and a tight black tank top. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She kept her sunglasses on. She wore blood red lipstick. Her high heeled, knee high black vinyl boots clicked loudly on the dingy linoleum floor. She really didn’t look much like Jerilyn Starkweather anymore, but that wasn’t going to matter much in a few minutes. She paused at the door at the end of the hall. Balling her fist up, she pounded on it. From the other side of the door, fearful voice asked "Who’s there?" The door cracked open. Samita Saint-Claire poked her head out. Then opened the door completely and stood before Bravo, wearing a long denim skirt and a sleeveless white blouse. Her long soft brown hair was loose and hung below her waist. She was barefoot, her toenails painted pink. She clasped her left hand over her right hand demurely. Her diamond wedding ring sparkled in the feeble light. Bravo pulled Starkweather’s gun out of her holster and pressed it against Samita’s head. "Good bye Delta," was all she said as she pulled the trigger. As Samita’s body collapsed on the threshold, a thin, childish voice screamed out "Mommy!" A baby started to cry. Bravo stepped over Samita’s body and left bloody footprints as she walked towards the little boy cowering in the corner, trying to shield his sister with his tiny body. She pointed her gun at them. **** Meanwhile Special Agent Monica Reyes’ apartment 5:15 PM Eastern Time After Mulder had taken her home from the airport, Reyes did as she was told and called the Lone Gunmen telling them to monitor Starkweather’s apartment. Then she set her cell phone’s ringing tones as loud as it could go. Then she collapsed on her sofa, her Sig Sauer on the coffee table right in front of her.
And still managed to sleep through her ringing phone. It was a cool hand touching her cheek that woke her up. "Monica," a lilting voice cajoled her. "’Despierte’, Monica." She did not look ghostly at all. Teresa Reyes looked exactly how she did when she was having dinner at Monica’s apartment, alive and safe. "It wasn’t your fault, Moni," Teresa said. "I don’t blame you." And just as Reyes opened her mouth, Teresa added "And if you continue to blame yourself, I’m going to haunt you." "She won’t believe me," Reyes said desperately. "Dana needs proof that it’s not really Jerilyn." Reyes’ eyes widened. "Take me to Dana," she said, standing up, putting her gun into her holster. **** Meanwhile En route to J. Edgar Hoover 5:25PM Eastern Time "Dammit Scully!" Mulder yelled impotently as his call went into voice mail again. "Answer! Pick up the god damn phone." He hit "End" then dialed her office number again. Doggett kept his eyes on the road as he turned off the interstate and merged with downtown traffic, making his way towards FBI Headquarters. "Didja try her mom’s house?" Doggett asked when Mulder began swearing again as Scully’s business voice mail intercepted the call. "No, not yet," Mulder said. "God, I hope she’s still at J. Edgar though." Mulder hit "Answer." "Mulder." "I know, I know," Skinner said. "I just received a phone call from Gibson Praise, telling me that Bravo was alive." "Do NOT go after her yourself then, Mulder. She killed everyone in that safe house, Samita, the agents guarding her…" he cleared his throat. "And the children." "Samita Saint-Claire’s kids," Mulder said to Doggett. "They’re dead. So is Samita." "Tell me you’re kiddin’," Doggett moaned as he turned his head back towards the road. "Tell me that’s a bad joke, Mul-duh." He started dialing his phone again. "Come on, Monica…" he said, "Answer…" he said as he annoyed several other passing motorists as he drove and talked on the phone at the same time. Meanwhile, Mulder kept talking to Skinner, "Skinner, find Carlos. I want to nail this bitch’s ass to the wall. There’s no time for petty jurisdiction rivalries now. This is personal. She’s after my son, sir," Mulder pleaded. "They’re after my son." He turned to the small but tough task force he had assembled once he received word that Samita Saint-Claire had been murdered. Behind them, in military fatigues and a black beret, CIA Agent Lux Carlos said loudly. "You know your mission, agents. Exercise extreme caution. She is armed and dangerous. Let’s go." After he had woken up from his ‘nap’, Carlos was good and pissed off. After contemplating castrating himself, he quickly got dressed and sped to FBI Headquarters just as Gibson Praise was calling Skinner.
Skinner called over his shoulder "Kimberly, keep calling that list of numbers that I left you. If you should reach Agent Scully, apprise her of the situation and tell her to evacuate whatever premise she may be on and get somewhere safe. I can not stress how dangerous it would be for her to come here. The imposter still has access here, although we are working on denying clearance. Problem is, the real Starkweather is still a federal agent." "Yes sir," Kimberly said nervously as she sat down at her boss’ desk while Skinner shut the door behind him. "Problem is," Carlos said darkly as they hurried down the hall. "Not only do we have no idea where in the hell Scully and the boy ARE, but we don’t know where SAFE is either." *** A little later Fox Mulder’s apartment Arlington, Virginia 5:37 PM Eastern Time "Jeremiah was a bullfrog," Scully sang to William as she fumbled in her gigantic and ugly purse for the keys to Mulder’s apartment, "was a good friend of mine…" "Are you singing with Mommy?" Scully asked she found the right key and unlocked the door. "You have such a good singing voice, sweet William. So much better than Mommy’s. A LOT better than Mommy’s," she grumbled under her breath as she let William down and watched him run into the apartment. "DAD – DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" he crowed, running with that strange gait only babies have as they try to master walking. As Scully turned the lights on, William looked around the empty, dirty apartment. "Daddy?" With a pout, he looked up at his mother. "No Daddy?" "Daddy’s working, sweetie," Scully said. "We’re just here to get something for Daddy. It won’t take long." She shut the door behind her, taking her coat off. William promptly sat down on the floor and pulled something small and square out of the front pocket of his bib overalls and began playing with it, pushing buttons, giggling as it lit up. Scully looked down at William just as she was going into Mulder’s bedroom. "Sweetie, what do you have? Is that Mommy’s cell phone?????" Just then, there was a firm knock on the door. After putting the phone in her blazer pocket, Scully reached inside her blazer and unsnapped the holster of her Smith and Wesson. As the knocking persisted, she quickly, she scooped up William and brought him into Mulder’s room, plopping him on the floor of Mulder’s closet. "Stay here, baby," she told him; spying a Bob the Builder Doll that Mulder had given him for his birthday. Will had left it here during his last visit to Daddy’s apartment. "Shh…" she told him as she wrapped him up in the comforter from Mulder’s bed, then shutting the closet door. Pulling the gun out of the holster, she shut the bedroom door and un-safetied her gun. William’s lip quivered but he wrapped his fat arms around the toy and snuggled into the blanket, smelling his father’s aftershave and soap. The knocking continued, this time accompanied by a voice, "Dana!! Dana, it’s me, Monica!" "Monica?" Scully said as she opened the door. "Jesus, you scared the hell out of me." Reyes quickly went inside the apartment and shut the door, locking it behind her. "Where’s William?" As precious time was wasted with the third degree, the elevator doors slid open. Bravo, stepped out into the hallway. Silently, she moved down the hallway until she reached Apartment 42. She crouched down and pressed her ear against the door.
"Monica, please," Scully groaned. "There’s no proof to back up those claims." Just then, the door burst open. Reyes and Scully whipped around, pointing their guns at Bravo who stood serenely in the doorframe. "On the floor, NOW!" Scully cried out. "Hands on head." As they cautiously inched towards her, Bravo arched an eyebrow and held her arms out wide open. "You’re pointing guns at an unarmed woman?" she asked before swinging her leg in the air to knock the gun out of Reyes’ hand. Reyes threw a punch at Bravo, but Bravo caught her fist with her hand and started to squeeze. Reyes cried out in anguish as her own fingernails cut into the tender flesh of her palm but she managed to yell out, "Dana! Run!" as she sank to her knees. Calmly, she said, "Run, shoot, scream, do anything stupid, Scully," Bravo pulled a jagged edged knife from out her coat pocket, "and I will slit her throat right here."
Kicking the door shut behind her, Bravo flung Reyes away from her. Reyes slid across the wood floor, into Mulder’s desk. Bravo, like a cat, leapt over the coffee table and caught up to Scully. Grabbing a handful of her red tresses, Bravo slammed Scully’s head into the wall, then let go. Scully slumped to the floor. Bravo sheathed her knife. From the bedroom, William began to wail. Reyes was hurt but not out for the count. Her gun was not that far from her. As she tried to nonchalantly reach for it, Bravo, unruffled, said as she knelt down while pulling out a set of handcuffs from her pocket, "Don’t do anything else stupid, Reyes. I wasn’t sent here for the boy. But I can sure take care of the boy if you don’t do exactly what I tell you." After making sure Scully’s hands were firmly handcuffed behind her back, Bravo hoisted Scully’s limp form up. "For her," she sneered. "I can break her neck with my bare hands, you know that right?" she wrapped a small hand around Scully’s throat. Scully’s head lolled around. "You saw what I did to your precious John Doggett and Jerilyn Starkweather last December didn’t you? Doggett is a good foot taller than I and twice my weight. And Starkweather," she grinned demonically, "Is just as inhuman as I am. I have no problems killing her right now," she looked down at Scully for a minute, then back at Reyes, "Or her son. So be a good little girl, Monica and do exactly as I say. If you weren’t so deceitful when Rohrer took Teresa, she might still be alive. Play by our rules, Reyes, and Scully and William might live."
"What do you want?" Reyes asked slowly while her mind raced, struggling for a solution. "Get up and help me get her to the car." Bravo reached into her pockets and dug out the keys to Starkweather’s vehicle. Tossing them to Reyes, she said. "Get your ass in gear, I don’t have all day." Unwillingly, Reyes helped Bravo lug Scully’s prostrate form all the way down the hall to the elevator and then to the car. Upon seeing her pained expression as she shut the front door on William’s cries, Bravo hissed at her. "I told you, we aren’t interested in the baby this go-around. Otherwise I would have killed him a long time ago. Fuck with me, though, and he’ll be dead before you can say ‘adios’." Outside Mulder’s apartment, Bravo forced Reyes to open the trunk of Starkweather’s car. Un-ceremonially, Bravo dumped Scully inside, pulled a Glock out of her leather jacket and pointed it at Reyes as she slammed the trunk down. "You’re driving," Bravo informed her. Meanwhile, in the gloom of the trunk, Scully opened her eyes. Her heart pounded as she thought of her little boy, left alone in Mulder’s apartment. But thank God, her ruse worked. But oh God, her head was throbbing. "Where are we going?" Reyes demanded as she slowly walked around the car as Bravo walked to the other side, pointing her gun at Reyes’ head at all times. "Your place," she snapped at her. "And drive cautiously. I don’t want to waste anytime getting pulled over and having to kill a cop." Under the cover of engine noise, Scully struggled with the handcuffs, performing the neat little legs-through-arms trick that had saved her life from Donnie Pfaster. She fumbled in the darkness until her bound hands brushed against a square little lump in her blazer pocket. *** Meanwhile En route to Arlington, Virginia 5:41 PM Eastern Standard Time "I don’t know… it may be a needle in a haystack," Mulder mused, "but we may find a clue or something at Starkweather’s apartment." A black, almost homicidal look crossed Mulder’s face. "Good." His phone rang. Upon seeing the caller ID name, Mulder answered and barked into the phone, "Scully, where the hell are you?" Doggett began to speed even more. "How romantic," Mulder droned then turning his attention back to Scully. "Keep talking to Scully. Pay attention to every little sound you hear. Doggett is on the phone with Skinner right now." Skinner was talking to Doggett and Carlos at the same time. Carlos was repeating the car’s description to his right hand, Agent Bonaventure Merchant. "And there’s a bumper sticker that says ‘My other car is a broom’. I want every squad car, county sheriff state trooper and fed to have that description. Start closing roads. I want a five mile perimeter put around the Greater DC area. Nothing goes out without a search."
"Done," she said as she hurried to put the APB out. "Tell that damn fool to sit tight," Carlos said, "and we’re on our way to him until further notice. Tell him I’ll kill his ugly cracker ass if he tries to hunt Bravo by himself." "Tell that damn fool to sit tight," Skinner repeated to Doggett as he and Carlos ran to their car. "We’re on our way. Tell him I’ll kill his overbearing pompous ass if he tries to hunt Bravo by himself." As he ran up the stairs, Mulder said, "Did Starkweather mention any car problems?" The door to Mulder’s apartment was unlocked. Mulder burst through the door, handing the cell phone to Doggett, yelling "William?? Will?" A piercing cry ripped through the apartment. Mulder sprinted through the apartment to the bedroom while Doggett reassured Scully, "William’s okay, Dana, we’ve got ‘im, now we just gotta get YOU. Tell me ‘bout the car, Dana. Is the engine makin’ a high squealin’ noise?" Meanwhile En route to Falls Church 6:01 PM Eastern Standard Time "See," Reyes said as the car continued to lurch and sputter. "I wasn’t trying to trick you, it’s really out of gas." Reyes nodded, heart pounding all the while thinking <<If I can just get her to the apartment, if I can get her to my place, maybe I can outfight her enough to escape. She’s not a Super Soldier, she does have vulnerabilities. I just can’t do anything here. Not with Scully trapped. I’ll pretend to lock the door and then when I get away from her, I can run back, get back in, hot wire the car and get the hell away from her. If I can just get to my apartment…>> "Remember," Bravo said icily. "Nothing cute." Scully, meanwhile, wished there was a way to communicate to Reyes. She had no choice but to lay quietly. In a whisper, she told Doggett, "We’ve stopped. We’re at a gas station." By this time, Skinner and Carlos had arrived at Mulder’s apartment. "They’re at a gas station," Doggett announced to them. Skinner and Carlos simultaneously pulled out their cell phones and barked at their people to start canvassing gas stations for white Dodge Dynasties. "Hang on Dana," Doggett said. Scully whispered, "Okay," as she listened to Reyes pump gas. "William?" she asked as softly as possible. "He’s fine Scully, he’s safe," Doggett promised her, watching Mulder hand William off to Skinner. "If anything happens to him on your watch," Mulder threatened him. Skinner scowled, "You forget who you’re talking to." A black van pulled up in front of Mulder’s apartment. Mulder watched through his windows as the doors slide open. Inside the van, Agent Merchant and the Lone Gunmen were waiting. Frohike took William and the van door slid quickly shut and the van drove off like a bat out of hell. Mulder took the phone from Doggett again. "Scully, don’t worry about the William. He’s with the Gunmen." "CIA and FBI are on their way. They’re in Falls Church." "Falls Church?" Mulder creased his brow. "What the hell’s in Falls Church?" The cop was good looking and young, maybe twenty five years old. He was leaning on the trunk and flirting with Reyes as she finished pumping her gas. He had gorgeous green eyes and a strong jaw line. Under normal circumstances, Reyes would have been flattered. As his partner, Officer Jennifer Ithenstein watched them from inside their police cruiser; Officer Kirk James said to Reyes, "So, anyway, I’m off duty in five minutes. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" "Um… I hate to be rude, but my friend… she’s impatient," Reyes nodded her head towards Bravo. Bravo was watching the scene through the rear view mirror, frowning severely. Scully resisted the urge to start banging around. The last time she did that, a cop got killed. "Well, here," James said, handing her a business card. "Call me when you have more time to talk." He flashed her a brilliant smile. Reyes tried to smile back as she looked at the card. At the bottom of the card, it was written, ‘Cavalry’s here Agent Reyes.’ She looked up at the cop again, pretending to put the card in her pocket when she really dropped it to the ground so if Bravo demanded to see it, she couldn’t produce it. "Okay," she demurred. "I really have to go. My friend…" He tapped on the glass. Bravo rolled the window down and glared at him. "Evening ma’am," he said, doffing his hat, "Heard you’re impatient." Inside the trunk, Scully reported what she could hear. "Mulder, she just ordered Monica back inside the car. And now we’r- ooff!" she cried out as Reyes hit the gas and car lunged forward. Scully slammed against the side of the trunk, the phone slipping from her hand. Ithenstein struggled to get up and chased after the car, shooting at the tires, but missing. "Dammit," she said, holstering her guard as other police cars and FBI vehicles pulled up. "They went that way!" she yelled, pointed down the road, blood oozing out of her shoulder. "James is gone," she said bitterly as ironically her boss Edward Carillo and her former partner, Howard Lisbon, nearly created Detective, approached her and escorted her towards the sound of ambulances. "Somebody’s gonna have to call KayAnne." KayAnne was James’ wife. They had been married for the same amount of time Ben and Jerilyn Starkweather had been, two years, give or take. "I’ll call her, Jenny," Lisbon told her as the ambulances pulled up. *** 6:10 PM Eastern Standard Time Meanwhile, Doggett, Mulder, Skinner and Carlos were running from out Mulder’s apartment and towards the vehicle’s. "Scully? SCUL-LAY!" "I’m here, Mulder," she said breathlessly. "I’m here, I dropped the phone. We’re going again. Very very fast." "Why the hell would you know a short cut from Falls Church to here?" Mulder demanded. Doggett gave him a dirty look. "Oh," Mulder muttered. Then he asked "How long does it take for you to get from there to here?" "Better make it ten," Mulder advised him. As Doggett sped through Suburbia, Reyes pulled up in front of her own apartment complex in Falls Church. She put the car in park, but left the engine running. "Now what?" Bravo flipped her gun around so she was holding it by the barrel. "You should have stayed in New York," she told her before clocking her in the back of the head with the butt of her gun. As Reyes slumped over the steering wheel, Bravo sighed. One more heavy body to drag. Sometimes being an assassin was just no fun. *** Meanwhile Fado’s Irish Pub 808 7th Street Washington DC 6:13 PM Eastern Standard Time Her cell phone beeped. The assistant manager, a fairly easy going guy, shook his head at her. "Jessica, you know you aren’t supposed to have a cell on you," he rebuked his newest waitress kindly. "Sorry Bill," she told him with a smile. "But I’ve been expecting this call. It’s important." He would have been the one to freak out if he had followed Jessica into the bathroom. But Jessica had locked the main bathroom door. She answered the phone as she looked at her wholesome reflection in the mirror. "What is it?" "Damn," she said, pulling off her waitress apron and name tag. Dropping them in the garbage can next to the sink, she stared at the reflection again. Watched as the curly hair straightened out and grew until it hung well below her waist. Watched the color fade from the dark brown to a strawberry blond. Watched as her height diminished from five-seven to five-three. Watched as her face widened, becoming heart-shaped. Watched the freckles erased from her face. Watched her blue eyes change to an alien silvery-grey color. "I’m on my way." Lilly Stratford said as she hung up the phone. It had been ridiculously easy to break out of federal custody after AD Skinner arrested her in Oregon. She knelt down to cuff up the now too long pants. She stood up again, then walked towards the toilet in the corner. Lift the porcelain tank lid and reached inside, pulling out a sealed black bag. Unzipping the bag she pulled out the Glock she bought on the black market. "I’m on my way." Monica Reyes’ apartment Falls Church Virginia 6:27 PM Eastern Standard Time
Reyes’s head was pounding. Her throat and nostrils burned. The inside of her mouth tasted funny. Her stomach jumped up and down. Her eyes were stinging. She heard singing. She heard Starkweather singing. Where do I put this fire?
No more sex-starved teachers trying to touch my ass Reyes opened her eyes wide. Then snapped them quickly shut again. <<Lie still>> she ordered herself. <<She thinks you’re unconscious.>> Bravo came out of Reyes bedroom. The fire was kindling nicely in there. She used the last of the kerosene that was in Reyes’ antique lamp on some of the carpet and on an armchair. Popping a cigarette in her mouth, she stood there for a minute, shaking her head. "You should have stayed out this Reyes. You should have stayed in New York." She lit the match on the back of the matchbook she got from the hotel she stayed at with Lux Carlos. After lighting her cigarette, she tossed the match over her shoulder. It landed on a kerosene soaked armchair and the chair burst into the flames. As the fire consumed the chair and slowly made its way to the carpet, Bravo walked over to the couch where Reyes lay. Moving an in-table closer to Reyes, Bravo took a drag and laid the smoldering cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. "Thank God you’re a chain smoker," Bravo gloated as she pulled the handcuff key out of her pocket and bent over Reyes’ limp form to unlock the handcuffs. Reyes didn’t wait for her to unlock both hands, as soon as one circlet sprang open, Reyes smacked Bravo across the face, then pushed her away from her. Bravo fell on her ass, knocking the in-table over in the process. The lit cigarette flew across the room along with the ash and the butts and landed in a puddle of kerosene. The carpet burst into flames and began to spread. Bravo got up but Reyes swung her leg around and kicked Bravo solidly in the chest. Bravo fell on her ass again, and Reyes sprang from the couch to run to the door, but Bravo grabbed her ankle, tripping her. Reyes kicked her in the face and crawled away, but Bravo recovered and like a cat, leapt on top of Reyes, grabbing her throat and squeezing tightly. Reyes fought back with everything she had, biting and kicking as with one hand she raked her nails down Bravo’s face while with the other, tried to pry one of Bravo’s hands loose from her neck. Reyes began to gag on the smoke. "That’s right, bitch, suck it in, maybe the smoke will get you instead." "Reyes, Reyes," Bravo chanted. "That didn’t sound very nice. Oh well, Hora de morir, concha estúpida." Blood oozed out of the scratches Reyes inflicted upon her. Reyes started to gag. She felt herself fading out again. Meanwhile, Doggett and Mulder had pulled up outside of the apartment. "Oh God," Mulder felt his mouth go dry at the sight of the flames consuming the curtains. "Scully…" he said into the phone. "Reyes’ apartment… it’s on fire." Doggett, remembering Mulder’s pyrophobia, yelled at him, "You go find Scully, I’m goin’ up for Monica." Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to find the battered Dodge Dynasty. He could hear Scully’s yells. "Get me out!" "Scully! Scully I’m here!" Mulder yelled at her. "GET ME OUT!" "Mulder, hurry…" Scully moaned. "Bravo is up there too…" Putting his tie to his mouth, he entered the blazing apartment and braved the flames as he ran to Monica’s limp form. Coughing, he bent down, scooped her up and ran from the apartment. Just as Doggett left, the ceiling in her bedroom collapsed. Doggett, carrying Reyes, escaped the apartment just as the fire trucks and ambulances arrived. Mulder and Scully were jogging towards them. Scully’s wrists were bound by police issued handcuffs. "Where is she hurt?" Scully yelled. "And I need a hacksaw." "Don’t know. Think it’s the smoke," Doggett said. Scully noted that Doggett’s ears, eyebrows and the back of his hands were singed but said nothing. He was so hyped up on adrenaline; he probably wasn’t even feeling it. "Ambulance is over there," Scully said as they ran towards it. "She needs oxygen, her breathing is shallow." "I don’t know!" Doggett said. "I didn’t see ‘er." Doggett stopped and handed Reyes over to Mulder. "Stay wi’ ‘em," Doggett ordered him, pulling out his gun. "You are NOT going after her alone!" Mulder yelled at him. "Get me out of these damn cuffs," Scully said, twisting her wrists in vain. "I’ll go with him." "The hell you will!" Mulder yelled at her. "Mulder, I gotta go after her NOW, if I wait, it’ll be too late." With that, Doggett turned his back on them and walked away. "Dammit," Mulder griped as they ran towards the ambulances. "He’s worse than us." But his words were lost in a clap of thunder. The humidity had broken. The storm would soon be unleashed. As Mulder and Scully ran to get help for Reyes, Doggett ran back to Reyes’ burning apartment building. Firefighters rushed towards the collapsing building as its residents fled out. Doggett pushed his way through the crowd, towards where Starkweather’s car had been left. It was still there. The trunk was wide open, signaling to Bravo that Scully had escaped. Doggett inconspicuously drew his gun, walking towards the car. Once he had satisfied himself that Bravo was not hiding in or near the vehicle, he quickly switched his mindset. He stopped thinking like a cop or a federal agent. But as a soldier because that’s how Bravo obviously viewed herself. So as Doggett canvassed the scene with his eyes, he summoned all of his Marine training to take charge of the situation and to get inside the enemy’s mind. <<The place is crawlin’ with cops and feds. She’s good, but she’s not good ‘nough to fight off an entire police squad or a SWAT team. She ain’t a Supah Soldier, thank God, but she’s something else. But she ain’t immortal. So where would she go? Residential? Possibly. But where?>> He looked down at the car again. Noticed with satisfaction blood spattered on the pavement by the car. Scully hadn’t been bleeding when he saw her. Neither had Reyes. Which means… <<She’s hurt. She’s in a hostile environment and she’s hurt. Mon, I hope to God it was you that beat the shit outta her.>> Doggett thought smugly as he knelt down to examine the blood spots on the street closer. A cold wind ruffled his hair. Lightening snaked through the sky. Thunder rumbled threateningly again. "I know where you went," Doggett whispered suddenly. "Dumb bitch, don’t you know I’ve got home court advantage?" He shrugged off his coat and pulled off his tie, leaving them by Starkweather’s car as he pulled his FBI badge out, quickly attached it to a chain and looped it around his neck so that his identification would be plain to the "good guys," letting the police, SWAT team and other feds that he was one of them so it was okay for him to have a gun. Doggett started to walk down the street a little way before crouching down by a hedge surrounding a little lonely gray brick house. The lights were out so Doggett skulked around the hedges until he made it to the next house. He cut through the backyard and under the cover of stormy darkness, noiselessly moved strangers’ yards towards the one place the enemy thought no one would find her. After all, he hadn’t become a sergeant in the Marine Corps on a fluke. Closer and closer to his destination he got, the lower and lower to the ground he got. Until when he was only a few feet away from the humble little brick church, he doing what the military called a "low crawl," basically wriggling across the ground like a snake. Doggett paused by a big shady oak tree and peered around it cautiously, gun and guard up. As his Arctic blue eyes squinted through the gloom of East Coast rainstorm, in his heart he knew tonight he was going to break every FBI regulation, meaning he could probably kiss his job and maybe his freedom goodbye. At that critical moment, he didn’t care. He was not going to bring Bravo in. He crawled towards the church, and then stood up, pressing his back tight against the brick wall. Slowly, gun out, he inched his way to the back door. He perceived that the lock had been jimmied open so with the toe of his good black dress shoe, pushed the door open, gun out first. Like a good FBI agent, he checked all blind spots before entering the dark sanctuary of the church. <<Come out, come out wherever you are>> he mentally taunted her as he moved through the church. Meanwhile, his quarry was sitting inside a confessional booth, pulling Kleenex after Kleenex out of the box the priest kept not just being able to offer them to his sometimes tearful sinners but to combat his own allergies. Bravo used the tissues to press against her cheek in hopes that it would stop bleeding soon. Reyes had been fighting for her life, these were no girly catfight scratches. If Bravo had jerked her face away a second later, she’d be missing an eyeball. <<Fucking bitch, that fucking bitch>> Bravo fumed. <<She ruined everything. Next time, fuck the Syndicate. I do things MY way. No stupid games. Just blow her god damned brains ou… wait>> Bravo pressed her ear against the door of the confessional booth. <<Someone’s out there…>> His cold eyes rested on the confessional booth. An evil idea crossed his mind. "Jerilyn?" he called out, moving towards the confessional. "Doc? Where are you? Jeri? It’s me, John Doggett." Bravo slid the door open and slipped out "John… what the hell is going on?" she said in a shaking voice, making herself sound piteous. "I was jumped by Bravo… but… she’s dead… she jumped off the bridge in Arizona, I SAW her, I was right there." When Doggett reached her and was only inches away, she managed to produce tears and stammer out "She stole my car and my ID… I… woke up here, but when I heard the sirens, I… was afraid they’d mistake me for her, so I stayed here. Jesus, I was glad to hear your voice, John." Bravo did not look frightened at all. In fact, she seemed rather bored. "So," she said with a sigh and an eye roll. "Where did I fuck up?" "The second?" Doggett got into her face. "She NEVER called me by my first name. Now, you Got-damned bitch, start talkin’." "Don’t quite possess a bureaucratic attitude anymore, do you Agent Doggett?" "Lots of people would miss Starkweather though, wouldn’t’ they?" she taunted him. "I can help you. I can tell you where she is and how to get her back. I can help you be the hero, Agent Doggett. Pave the way to the A.D. seat." "Where," Doggett squeezed her throat tighter "is she?" Suddenly, Bravo’s arms whipped up and her hands seized the gun, pulling it up and away from her head. Doggett had to let go of her throat to fight her for the gun. She kicked him hard in the shin, then ground the heel of her boot into the top plate of Doggett’s foot. He yelped in pain, but did not let go of the gun. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed, bending it back into a painful position until she squealed. She smashed her forehead into his solar plexus and as he reeled backwards from the blow, they both dropped the gun, which went sliding across the hard wood floors and under the pews. Doggett shoved her away from him and balled his fists. "C’mere," he threatened her. Bravo laughed, the chilling sound reverberating throughout the church. "I don’t need a gun to take care of you," she said, shedding the long black leather coat. "You truly are a Son of the Confederacy, aren’t you," she purred, balling her fists and assuming a front fighting stance popular in the art of Tae Kwon Do, her favorite form of martial arts. "A duel. In fact, if we could have it your way, you’d probably prefer to get pistols so we can shoot it out like true Southern aristocracy. Except that it’s not in you to hit a lady." Reeling back from the last kick, gasping for air, Doggett winced as he pressed his hand against his breast bone. Bravo continued to advance on him. "That was just the warm up, Mr. Doggett." He saw a shadow moving from behind Bravo as she continued to pitch hymn books at him tirelessly. He hoped it was Mulder. His ribs were killing him, along with his sternum. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Seeing the shadow creeping up on Bravo, Doggett made a last ditch attempt to subjugate the monster. With a primal cry, he charged Bravo with the candelabra, pinning her to the table. She struggled, pinioned by his weight and the heavy metal rod against her chest. She snaked a hand free and grabbed his hair, pulling his head towards her, fast and hard. Doggett saw stars and felt her tiny hands push hard against him. He was acutely aware of falling down and sliding across the wooden floor, his body not stopping until it slammed against the wall. He heard the candelabra clattering away from him. His eyes were out of focus when he first re-opened them. As they cleared, he saw Bravo, her dyed blond hair disheveled, her pretty Jerilyn-like face coated with blood, approaching him. In a fluid movement, she reached inside her boot and produced a knife with a wicked jagged edge. As she got closer, she sneered "I should have killed you when I had the chance. You’re a pain in the ass." "You aren’t gonna get away with this," he muttered. "Those are your final words?" Bravo shook her head. "Not very memorable. Or creative." Carlos now straddled Bravo as if he was going to rape her. He punched her solidly in the face, once, twice. Doggett heard something breaking and then Bravo squealing in pain. Carlos grabbed the front of her shirt and as he stood up, forced her to stand up as well. "Where is she?" he yelled at her. "Where is Agent Starkweather?" "Bullshit," Carlos bellowed at her. "Where is she?" Carlos lunged for her, a second Dan black belt himself. His powerful legs swung out at her in a perfect outside in crescent kick. Bravo ducked the kick, dropped to the ground and swung her own legs around in a leg sweep that knocked Carlos to the ground. She pounced on him like a rabid rat. Doggett came up from behind and grabbed her around the waist. Bravo reached back, grabbed onto Doggett’s shirt and flipped him over her. As Doggett landed hard on his back, he muttered, "I’m gettin’ tired of gettin’ my ass kicked by a girl." Carlos meanwhile had managed to wrest Bravo off of him. When he stood up, he discovered that he quickly had to dive for cover in the pews for Bravo had pulled out some of her wicked Chinese throwing darts and began tossing them at Carlos and Doggett. One dart landed right next to Doggett’s head. That was motivation enough for him to get off his ass and seek shelter in the pews. Doggett heard Carlos nearby muttering "I’m gonna kill her." Doggett popped up from the pews, gun out. "Dammit!" he snapped. "She’s gone," he told Carlos as lightening flashed and thunder pounded. Bravo had climbed up the statue of the Virgin Mary, then leapt to the choir loft. Peering through the beams of the balcony, she watched the two men cautiously maneuvering through the church. "Which way could she have gone?" Doggett asked. "I didn’t hear the door opening." <<Dammit>> Bravo thought, pulling another knife, her last weapon available to her. <<I’m fucked unless I take both of them now.>> Quick at the lightening in the sky, she leapt up and straddled the balcony for just a moment before swinging over and plummeting to the ground, landing in a heap on the men below. Once again, the gun went flying from Doggett’s hand. After she punched Doggett in the face, she turned to deal with Carlos. But she had failed to knock Doggett out and he teamed up with Carlos to pin her down. Carlos smashed her wrist against the floor over and over until she dropped the knife. Using his knee to hold her upper arm down, Doggett rose up just enough to start undoing his belt. "I don’t have handcuffs," he said as he un-looped the belt from his slacks. "And I want to get her restrained." Bravo had leaned over and started to gnaw on Carlos’ wrist. She refused to release her bite on him even when Carlos let go of her. Doggett tried to pull her off of Carlos but the minute he moved, she was able to free her arm. She grabbed one of Doggett’s ears, twisting it mercilessly, digging her long nails into the tender flesh. Doggett tried to pry her fingers off but her hand was like a steel vise. He could feel blood tricking from his ear down the side of his neck. Meanwhile Carlos was cursing a blue streak as Bravo continued to keep her teeth deeply imbedded into his wrist. Her free hand stretched out, seeking what she had dropped. When her hand wrapped around the knife handle, she wasted no time. She pushed Doggett away from her, took her mouth off of Carlos, grabbed his wrist with her free hand and while holding it down, drove the knife through his lower arm, as if she was crucifying him. Carlos screamed in agony, pinned like a bug on a card. "You don’t know what pain is yet, Carlos," Bravo said, getting up. Doggett tried to get up, but his breath was coming out in short sharp bursts now, every breath was hell. Plus the damage to his ear affected his balance. The world was swimming. Still he crawled over to Carlos and tried to pull the knife out. It was as if a jackhammer had pounded it in place. Bravo swooped down, picked up John Doggett’s gun and pointed it at them. "No!" Doggett cried out but she had already squeezed off a round. Carlos grunted and passed out when the bullet embedded itself into his lower back. Bravo pointed the gun at Doggett’s head. "It’s over," she told him quietly. Doggett shook his head and quoted Reyes. "It’s never over." Bravo stared at him dispassionately. Took a step closer to him. A shot rang throughout the church. Doggett watched in open mouthed horror as a bullet split through Bravo’s skull. She stood for a moment, dazed, as if to say "This is not happening." Then she collapsed into a heap, next to Carlos. A small figure stood in the shadows. A feminine figure. "Scully?" Doggett cried out hoarsely. The figure came closer. She was tiny, with a heart shaped face. Long flowing hair. Doggett felt hope flutter in his chest. "Doc?" Standing over her half-sister’s body, she said calmly, "I never liked her anyway," as she nudged the corpse with her toe. "Alpha," he said, feeling hope fly away again. Lilly Stratford knelt down and checked Bravo’s pulse. "Don’t worry, Agent Doggett," she said. "She’s really dead this time." "Tests," Lilly told him. "Experiments. Essentially, cut her open and try and figure out how she conceived." "But… what ‘bout Starkweather?" Familiar voices rang through the church. "Doggett!" "Mul-duh! Skinner! Over here!" Doggett yelled. "We need help." He turned his head and saw Lilly retreating. "Where’n the hell you think you’re goin’?" "Lilly wait!" Doggett cried out. "There’s no time," she yelled back. "’Vienen’, do you remember, Agent Doggett? ‘Vienen!’" "They’re coming," Doggett mumbled as pain took control and he finally fainted. Meanwhile Somewhere out west… The young lieutenant had a cocky little smile on his face as he strutted down the cell block, swinging the pail of water in his hand like Jack only without Jill. He was a happy little soldier. Today was the day. Finally he was going to be rid of that pain in the ass.
He learned fast that they didn’t call her "The Hurricane" for nothing. When he first threw open the heavy cell door to torture her, she was still in a daze, her last memory was of being in an airplane heading towards Russia. He had mistakenly counted on her disorientation. "On your feet!" he had barked at her, flipping on the light. She had blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden brilliance. She had rubbed her eyes as she pulled herself up. He was surprised how short she was. Still, she seemed taller than him. She frowned, staring at him. He didn’t like how her eyes shifted colors from whiskey-brown to a poisonous greeny-gold as she eyed him. He didn’t like **her** period. "What are you thinking?" he had demanded. Normally prisoners, so traumatized by being left alone in the dark for so long, they were babbling their worse sins. But she had only looked at him coolly and said, "I know you." "Wrong answer."
"I remember you, you were the lieutenant that dragged me out of the bunker when my partner and I were investigating that downed F-16 jet in Scotland." He had instructions not to touch her. He broke that rule the first day when he got into her face and yelled "WRONG ANSWER!" and backhanded her. She had recoiled from the force, holding her face. But her hellcat hazel eyes were flashing bloody murder. "You’re gonna burn for that one, asshole." She had spat on him, a mix of saliva and blood. "I guran-damn-tee that, motherfu-" He had grabbed her by her hair and slammed her head into the wall. Letting go of the long blond tresses, he watched as she slumped down the wall and onto the floor, unconscious. He made it his mission then, to break Agent Jerilyn Starkweather. It soon became more than a mission, it was an obsession. But it seemed to be just as much her obsession to match him in a battle of brains if she could not beat him in a battle of brawn. She could not outfight him, but she was determined to outwit him and escape. On the day that it had been ordered that her clothes be taken from her in an attempt to shame her into submission, he had stormed in and eyed her bare body, once muscular and supple, now starting to become dangerously underweight. She sat in the corner and covered her breasts with her arms when he barged in. However, she still glared at him defiantly. **Try me** she had seemed to be daring him. "What are you thinking?" He thought there had been signs of weakening the last time that he visited her. He had demanded to know what she was thinking and in a deadened monotone, she had droned that she was thinking about her nephew, and his mother and father. He had barked at her that was the wrong answer but secretly he had been pleased. He thought they were finally getting somewhere. He had crouched down by her naked form and started to slide a hand up her thigh and demanded again to know what she was thinking. And ended up screaming in horror for she had gouged her thumbs into his eyes. She had managed to push him away and bolt for the door. But she didn’t make it very far. And now, his eyes still throbbing from the bitch’s last attack, he marched to her cell door. Since psychological warfare was doing nothing to her, he resorted to physical. Deprived her of privacy, sleep, food and water. The mind might survive, but the body certainly wouldn’t. He unlocked the door and threw it open. She was, as usual, huddled up in the corner of the room. He walked in and dumped the icy cold water on top of her head. With a gasp, she jolted awake. Pushing her heavy hair out of her face, she looked up at her tormentor. "Well, hello there sunshine," she rasped, her throat sore from lack of drinking water. "Long time no see." She flipped him the bird but even that gesture was half-hearted. She felt very faint and very very weak. And very very very tired. In his other hand, he was holding her clothes and shoes. "What are you thinking?" he taunted her. She shook her head. "What do you want to hear?" There was a tone of defeat in her voice. "The truth." He smiled a thin, cruel smile. "Right answer," he purred as he threw her clothes at her. "Get dressed," and he stood there to watch the reverse strip tease. After she was more or less correctly dressed, he reached into his pocket. He held out her wedding ring, her watch and her Medal of St. Christopher. "Put these on," he ordered her. Starkweather slipped the jewelry on, feeling some sense of normalcy come over her as she felt the familiar weight of the wedding band on her ring finger and the necklace around her neck. She felt in the pocket of her coat the heavy weight of her FBI badge and ID. She felt a small surge of hope. He grabbed her arm and roughly turned her around. Clumsily he plaited her hair into a thick braid, tying it with a piece of string he found. Next he handcuffed and blindfolded her. He sneered in her ear "Walk forward." She recoiled from his foul breath but did as he said. Her legs were shaking so badly Starkweather was afraid she was going to collapse but the lieutenant kept pushing her right along. She heard a door opening. She felt him push her inside. She felt the handcuffed removed from her slender wrists and the blindfold from her face. She looked around. The room was very dim. "Have fun," the young lieutenant said to someone in the shadows just before he left, slamming the door. "Bring her forward," a voice commanded. Starkweather felt herself being lifted up and thrown into the air. When she landed, she slid across the floor. As she struggled to get back up, she saw that she was in front of a table where several old men sat. As she rose to her feet, she was pushed down again. She cried out involuntarily as her face slammed into the linoleum again. She felt a man’s foot resting on the back of her neck. Suddenly overwhelmed with déjà vu, she remembered that day, almost a year ago, where she was attacked in the park by an Alien Bounty Hunter. Mulder had been there to save her ass. He had killed the Bounty Hunter at risk to his own life when he had no reason to. She had hated him passionately back then. She did not know what she knew now. She wasn’t the only one remembering that day. Knowles Rohrer grinned nastily as he lifted his foot off of her neck and stomped down on her wrist, the wrist that had been broken that day so long ago. He ground down on it with his boot until she was screaming and the bones were snapping. "That’s enough Rohrer," a man chewing on a toothpick said. "Stand her up."
Starkweather gritted her teeth. "Well, gentlemen," she drawled. "You finally got what you wanted. You have me. What do you want with me?" The Toothpick Man opened a folder. He motioned to Rohrer to come get the piece of paper he was holding. "Show that to her," he said. Rohrer shoved the paper in her face. "Ever see that before?" he asked. Starkweather pretended to be studying the paper while desperately thinking. <<Have I seen it? Of course I’ve seen it. It’s the rubbings off of whatever that thing was in Africa. Scully found it. It’s an X-File. But do they know that? How much do I tell them?>> "Agent Starkweather?" "Do you know what it is?" "Agent Starkweather?" the Toothpick Man took the toothpick out of his mouth. "Did you see something interesting in that rubbing?" The Toothpick Man and the Cancer Man looked at each other. "Take out the artifact," the Cancer Man said carelessly. "That will prove everything." Rohrer walked towards the wall and moved a picture. He opened a safe. He grunted as he bore a lovely cedar box, about the size of a jewelry box, over to the Syndicate. The box was shaking. <<What the hell…?>> Starkweather thought, fear freezing her insides. Both the Toothpick Man and the Cancer Man had to hold the lid down. "On three…" panted the Cancer Man. "One… two… three…" They opened the lid. A small, broken piece of metal shot out of the box, straight towards Starkweather. Reflexively, she flinched to get out of its way. But it stopped right in front of her face. It started to rotate slowly. "Oh God!" she cried out. She couldn’t help it. She saw the same markings from the rubbings on the hovering piece of metal. And the markings made sense to her. "Agent Starkweather," the Toothpick Man crooned. "We know you can read those markings." "Think of yourself," he coaxed her. "As a human Rosetta Stone." "I can’t," she whimpered. Then resolutely, she said. "I won’t." The Cancer Man whispered into the Toothpick Man’s ear. "She knows damn well what’s on that thing and in that paper, THAT’S why she isn’t talking." Rohrer took the knife and with a nasty grin, walked back over to Starkweather. "Last chance," he whispered. "You could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just…. No? You prefer to be a martyr?" He reached around and grabbed her braid, pulled hard, forcing her to throw her head back, exposing her neck. *** The next day May 12, 2002 Saint Vincent’s Hospital "Dana?" Doggett sighed in relief. "You’re okay then." "How’m I?" "Lucky," she whispered. "Fractured ribs. Concussion. Lots of bumps and bruises. The prognosis is good." "She has the clothes on her back," Scully said. "And her life. Her family didn’t lose another daughter. And," the slight smile came back to her now. "A hefty renter’s insurance policy. Or so she tells me." Doggett nodded. Then tried to sit up to get a glass of water. "Let me," Scully put the chart down and poured him a glass. Doggett looked around the room. Saw all the flowers and get well cards. "I’m popular," he said dryly. "Yes, you are," she said. "The press is dying to get to you." Doggett closed his eyes. "And…?" "When did you figure it out that…" "Right. She has the same hair color as Mulder. She had been missing for months. But no root growth. What about you? When did you realize?" She nodded and walked out the room. Doggett fingered the package. There was no card. "What’n the hell…" he muttered, apprehensive now. Carefully, he untied the ribbons and slit open the paper. He repeated himself. "What’n the hell is this?" <<Pandora’s Boxed Twilight>> The phrase sprung unbidden from the unconscious to the front of his mind. <<I don’t wanna open this…>> And was so revolted by the contents of the box he threw it across the room. In a panic he hit the call button while screaming at the top of his lungs "AGENT SCULLY!!! AGENT SCULLY!!!" *** Later… AD Skinner’s office. The innocent looking cedar box sat on top of Assistant Director Skinner’s desk. Mulder and Scully sat in the two chairs in front of the AD’s desk like they have so many times in the past. Only now, Mulder was very fidgety, fiddling with his pen and Scully was very pale. "And this has been fingerprinted?" Skinner nodded and opened the box slowly. Closed his eyes briefly. Scully thought he looked like he was praying. He pulled out Agent Starkweather’s blood-spattered FBI badge and ID. He pulled out Agent Starkweather’s house and car keys. He pulled out Agent Starkweather’s small Beretta and ankle holster. And he pulled out a long braid of tawny-blond hair. He sighed heavily and leaned back on the chair. Shaking his head. "Oh my God." "We performed a DNA test on the hair," Scully muttered, looking down at her lap. "It’s hers. There’s no question." "How’s Agent Doggett?" Skinner asked. Scully whispered, "There’s more sir." He peered inside. "There’s a necklace in here," Skinner said. "It’s Jerilyn’s," Mulder said simply. Skinner reached into his desk for a pair of gloves. "You sure?" he asked, slipping on the gloves. "It’s the silver pendant she wore every day," Scully said. "She received it as a gift. From a boy in Iowa. When she and Agent Doggett went to investigate a murder. He gave it to her because he said she was the only one who actually tried to find out who killed his sister." "The Patron Saint of Travel," Scully said bitterly, noting the irony. "My son’s middle name," she added, looking at the floor. Skinner grunted and pulled out the letter. He read silently, guessing that Scully and Mulder had already read it. "She lives as long as you don’t look for her." "That’s it?" Skinner said incredulously. "That’s all you’re going on? That’s what you’re basing your belief that Agent Starkweather is alive?" "I’ve gone on less," Mulder reminded him. The phone rang. "Not now Kimberly," Skinner snapped at her. "I’m in a meeting." Mulder and Scully exchanged surprised, nervous glances. "What the hell does that two-faced bastard want with us now?" Mulder snapped. "I don’t know," Skinner growled. "But we’re gonna find out…" "I want to help," Kersh ignored Mulder’s spite. "I want to retrieve Agent Starkweather. " "Why?" Scully demanded, almost, but not quite, as rude as her partner. She still worked for the man. Kersh stood there, a big tall man in an expensive suit. He took off his glasses and said. "Because the Admiral and I were friends. Because it is what Jeremy would have wanted. All he ever wanted was to protect her." He glanced at Skinner. "I almost denied her transfer from Minneapolis to DC back in April because I was afraid that this sort of thing would happen." "I am not going to dignify that childish tirade with an answer," Kersh sniffed. "But I will tell you this… I don’t like you Mulder. I’ve never liked you. I took GREAT pleasure in firing your ass when you pulled that stunt on the oilrig." He took out his wallet and pulled out an old picture. He handed it to him. Mulder studied it, eyebrows knitted in confusion. It was a school picture of a little girl about ten, eleven years old. She had her midnight black hair plaited into hundreds of little braids decorated with beads that matched her pink and purple shirt. She had a big, gap-toothed smile and twinkling brown eyes. "She’s cute." Mulder said gruffly. "That’s my daughter Jandi," Kersh informed him. "She’s dead." Startled, Mulder, Scully and Skinner stared at him, their jaws hanging open. "Sir?" Scully asked hesitantly. "She had cancer, Agent Scully," Kersh said with no trace of emotion in his voice. "Leukemia. Back before all the treatment advances were made. I was still a field agent. My wife and I didn’t have very much money. We were debt up to our ears with medical bills. Plus I was rarely home. Until she got so sick that I was granted compassionate leave so I could be home to watch her die. "The bills were mounting. My marriage was disintegrating. My little girl was dying. I didn’t know where to turn. So I went to the Admiral. He connected me to the Syndicate. They promised to give me money to pay my debt and to cure my daughter. Well, I got the money but not the cure. Jandi couldn’t wait anymore." He plucked the photograph out of Mulder’s hand and put it back in his wallet. "You all think of Agent Starkweather and you think of her as the woman you saw everyday. With her smart mouth and her catty attitude. I think of Agent Starkweather and I think of the little girl she used to be. She was so sweet. And smart as hell back then too. The Admiral and his wife were so proud of her. In their eyes, she WAS their daughter. "I didn’t know what the Syndicate was. What it was capable of. Until you and Agent Scully were re-assigned to me when the X-Files closed down. "Agent Mulder, they are trying to kill you." Kersh snorted. "I don’t know why I even bothered," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "Arrogant shit." "All of our lives are in danger," Scully reminded Kersh. "As federal agents-" "Mulder, if you stick around, you might as well paint a bull’s eye on the kid’s head. William, they want alive. Starkweather, they want alive. Mulder, they want you dead and if you’re dead, there’s no way you can protect your son and rescue your sister." Mulder lost his flippancy. His face was ashen. "Why do they want William?" "Why do you keep calling me ‘Agent’ Mulder?" Mulder said dully. "You fired me." The three friends sat silently in the Assistant Director’s office for a moment. "If," Mulder finally spoke up. "I do leave… sir, I need you to take over as next-of-kin, power of attorney and executor over Jerilyn’s estate." Mulder looked at Scully. Reached for her hand. Kissed it. Scully was startled by the public display of affection in front of Skinner. "Mulder?" Skinner nodded. "I understand," he said gruffly. "Nothing is decided yet," Mulder told him. "But I think it would be a good idea for you to take over the legalities for Jerilyn’s affairs while she’s MIA. Just in case something does happen…" "I’m not sure," Mulder admitted. "I would assume someone from Carter, Spangle and Adams, the lawfirm Ben worked at… but she went to Sita, Gillian and Hunter Lawfirm to find someone to handle her divorce." "Get me the details," Skinner said gruffly, putting the items back into the cedar box. "We’ll get this taken care of first thing in the morning." He looked at Scully sadly. He picked up the silver necklace and held it out to her. "Go home Dana. You and Mulder have a lot to discuss." *** Later that night… Scully’s apartment After William was sound and safely asleep, they had ordered a pizza. It now sat cold and untouched on the kitchen table. Mulder and Scully sat at the same table, facing each other. Mulder was playing with Jerilyn’s necklace, twisting and untwisting the chain. Scully sat still, looking at her hands in her lap. "You’re not eating," he chided her. "You’re not either," Scully pointed out. "I’m not hungry," he admitted. He then made another admission. "I’m afraid, Scully." "I don’t think Kersh is lying," Scully said. "I don’t know why. I have nothing to base this off of." He nodded. "But he’s wrong Scully. About leaving. Going into hiding like a coward. I’m not going to leave you and William alone." "Scully, I can’t just go…" "Jesus, Scully. Why don’t you just kick me in the balls while you’re at it?" "Mulder! Do you think I want you to go? Do you really think I want to raise William by myself? But I don’t see how we have a choice right now! And I’m NOT alone," she reminded him. "Agents Doggett and Reyes are here. And AD Skinner. And the Gunmen. And my mother’s here. Jerilyn is the one that’s alone Mulder. Not me." Mulder put the necklace on the table. Rubbed his face. "Oh Christ, Scully…" Scully got up and walked over to him. "Mulder," she whispered. "This is what you do. You chase bogeymen and stop the world from ending." Scully closed her eyes. She felt weak, hysterical. She wanted to drop to her knees, wrap her arms around his ankles and scream not to leave. She took several deep breaths and tried to regain some sense of control. "Mulder… I… I’m still here," she finally said. "And it’s not like this is forever. Once you find Jerilyn, you’ll bring her back and… and… you’ll come back. You’ll be back," she whispered. "And how much of William’s life will I have missed out on?" he said bitterly. "How much of William’s life will you miss out on if you wait around to be killed," she finally snapped at him and instantly regretted it. "I’m sorry…" "A day. Two at most. To get my stuff packed up and take care of paperwork and things like that…" He swallowed and said thickly "I don’t think Jerilyn can wait much longer than that." She nodded. Mulder pulled her to him and sat her on his lap. "Oh Scully," he whispered in her ear as she clung to him. "This isn’t the way I imagined my life at all…" He closed his eyes and felt her tears wetting his shirt and his tears dampening her hair. *** Later… Admiral Jeremy Bailey’s old house Sedona, Arizona He stretched out on the deck furniture and reached out for his sweaty glass of iced tea. He had always liked the Admiral’s house. He had snatched it up for mere pennies when the Starkweathers put the house on the market after the Admiral died. They could have gotten so much more out of it, but Jerilyn had wanted to be rid of it as soon as possible. Less memories to deal with. He was more than happy to relieve her of that burden. "Maybe I should retire here," he mused aloud as he put his glass down and reached for his constant pack of cigarettes. "If you live long enough to retire," a husky soprano voice told him. The Cancer Man whirled around in his chair and saw a slight, feminine figure standing in the shadows. "You!" he burst out. "How did you… how?" "You’re right," Lilly said, walking closer to him. "You’re absolutely right. There is no reason for you to tell me where Starkweather is." Hovering over him, she took the cigarette out of his hand and put it in her own mouth. As quickly as it came, the pain was gone.
"You…" he gasped, but found it very difficult to breath. "All you have to do to regain your health is to tell me where Agent Starkweather is. It’s that simple." The Cancer Man, while holding his laboring chest with one hand, defiantly reached over for his Morleys and took one out of the pack. Coughing, he put it in his mouth and lit it up with his butane lighter. Lilly shrugged. "Fine," she said. "Cut another hole in your throat to smoke. Choke on your own bodily fluids. Die a horrible, slow death. It matters not at all to me. But I’ll tell you what…" *** Epilogue Alone in his living room, he slipped a CD into his stereo, by recall, cueing the disk to the song he once ignored now had memorized. Tearless, he sat down in his chair, slowly, his ribs still hurting him. He reached for the bag from Target sitting on his coffee table. Slowly he pulled out two simple gold picture frames, 4X6s. He reached for the envelope sitting next to the shopping bag. A gift, from Monica. Still, despite everything, all the horrors she had experienced these last few days, she was still thinking of him. How did she always know what he needed? Psychic? Or perceptive? Or just perpetually kind. Gently, as if they were made of tissue paper, he pulled out three photographs. The first picture was of them together. Starkweather and Doggett. Jerilyn and John. Jerilyn completely hamming it up for the camera, throwing her arms around him, smiling while he tried to duck from the all seeing eye of the camera lens. Jerilyn with her pouting spoiled brat smile, her flashing hazel eyes, her Rapunzel long golden hair… he made himself stop thinking about her glorious hair. It hurt to think of her lioness mane. The second picture was of her with William. She was lying on the grass, oblivious to the grass stains. She was blowing bubbles for the boy, her beloved nephew. "Prince William" to her. She would die for that child and yet was terrified to become a mother to her own. Maybe she was dying for that child as he looked at the picture. He made himself stop thinking about that as well. He put the first two photographs in the simple frames and painfully, got up and hobbled over to the entertainment center to place the frames next to a little plastic dinosaur toy she gave him when he was in the hospital recovering from the gunshot wound he received during their not-so-delightful stay at La Luna Blanca and a little toy car. A Matchbox version of Dale Earnhart Senior’s race car. She had bought him that car because she knew he loved racing… and that he was royally pissed off at her. He remembered the entire moment verbatim: "You're still mad, aren't you?" she had whimpered, peeping at him from underneath a baseball cap. He had stared out the window, tapping his pen against the files he was trying to read. "You..." he drawled slowly, "spent one thousand, four hundred, eighty-six dollars and twelve cents." She had cringed. "You know... Scully told me not to start worrying about budget until we have to explain airfare to and from Antarctica…I said I was sorry," she had whimpered when he turned to glower at her. Then she had brightened. "Cheer up, Papa John. Just think, while I'll be sweating it out at a radio station and college dormitories, you get to live it up at the Sioux City Hilton… You could order room service on the Bureau's dime," she had said meekly. He remembered hearing her digging in the pocket of her windbreaker, cupping a clumsily wrapped package in her hand, turning back to him and turning on all her charm. "I bought you something. With my own money." He remembered turning to her, growling. "What?" He then remembered her handing him her gift. He remembered unwrapping it, trying to control his excitement, trying to stay mad at her, and failing utterly. "Oh wow," he had said when he saw she had given him a Matchbox car- sized miniature of Dale Earnhart Senior's race car. "Aw, Starkweather, this was nice, you didn't have too." "Still mad at me?" He remembered his anger melting away as fast as a Sno-Cone left in the Sahara. He knew he could call up ten thousand different memories, just as poignant as that one. He knew that the memories are the only way he was going to get through this. <<"As long I can have the good, I can handle the bad.">> <<"You know, you don’t have to handle the bad by yourself.">> <<I know, Papa John. That’s why you’re part of the good.">> He looked at the third photograph. Jerilyn alone, sitting on a rock, overlooking the Grand Canyon, completely unaware, staring off in the distance. Arms wrapped around her legs, chin on knees. Her long hair in a ponytail, blowing in the wind. Her hair… <<dear God, they sent me her hair in a box, her fucking **hair** in a box, are they gonna start sending her back to me in little pieces… stop it John… what was that line Doc always used when she started to freak out...?>> <<"Get it together.">>
All the while, Roy Orbison crooned: "Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand Take me to some twilight land Where all but love is gray Where time just slips away Without her as my guide Night falls, I’m cast beneath her spell Daylight comes, our heaven’s torn to hell Am I left to burn And burn eternally? She’s a mystery to me She’s a Mystery Girl She’s a Mystery Girl In the night of love, words tangled in Her hair Words soon disappear A love so sharp it cuts like a switchblade To my heart She tears again my bleeding heart I want to run, she’s pulling me apart Fallen angel cries Then I just melt away She’s a mystery to me She’s a Mystery Girl She’s a Mystery Girl She’s a Mystery Girl Haunted by her side the darkness in Her eyes But that so enslaves me If my love is blind then I don’t want to see She’s a mystery to me Night falls, I’m cast beneath her spell Daylight comes, our heaven’s torn to hell Am I left to burn And burn eternally? She’s a mystery to me…" <<"Scully said to me once, that nothing good never really dies… Do you believe that??">> <<"Yes>> **To Be Continued…** **Cue to Season Nine**
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