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. 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." The young man let himself in. In the corner of the dim room sat the cornerstone of the corruption. Surrounded in a haze of smoke "Is everything in order?" he asked him as he snubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the beautiful little table next to his opulent armchair. "Yes sir," the man, more boy than adult, stammered out. "Bring it to me." The recruit carried the cedar box to him, expecting him to take it from his hands. Instead, the Cigarette Smoking Man reached inside of his breast pocket to pull out another pack of cigarette. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and said as he took his butane lighter off of the table, "Open it for me, please." The recruit complied. After lighting his cigarette, he peered into the box. "Very good," he grunted, satisfied. He took a long drag from his smoke and then instructed his errand-boy. "Close it and put it on my desk. Then leave me." The recruit complied quickly and scurried out of his office. 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. "Caesar, lay off," he ordered him sternly. Caesar, naturally, ignored him and continued his caterwauling. <> Doggett thought. Doggett, Reyes and Scully have been playing "Pass the Cat" ever since Caesar's mistress disappeared. **"Doc, your cat hates me."** **"He hates everybody, don't take it personally."** <> **"I thought you hated cats."** **"I don't HATE cats. Just YOUR cat."** **"Caesar is very loyal… well, he's loyal to ME… "** <> he told himself sternly, but he couldn't help it. He held himself responsible. <> 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.** <> 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." "What do you want from me?" he demanded. "I'm lookin' for her, alright? I'm doin' my best to find her… Jesus Christ, I'm justifyin' myself to a damn cat." 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. <> he put the gun down and threw open the door. "Oh my God…" She stood there, barefoot, in what looked like hospital scrubs. Her hair, disheveled, rose and flew in the bitter breeze. She was shivering. She was sobbing. She looked up at him, fear and relief intertwined in her hazel eyes. "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." He carried her inside. 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." "Huh?" Sleeplessness made her slow. "Doc… *Jerilyn*, she's back!" "What!?!?" Scully exclaimed, wide-awake now. "Are you… oh my God… is she okay?" "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…" "Looks like we finally got a happy ending for once." "Yes… yes," Scully wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I have to call Mulder… and Monica… and…. everybody…. Can I talk to her?" Doggett held the phone out to Starkweather. "Scully wants to say hi." Starkweather smiled, pushed her heavy hair out of her face and took the phone from Doggett. "Hey Scully," she also tried to sound casual, but just like her partner, her voice cracked. 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." "Wow… didn't realize I was so popular," she sniffled. "Is Mulder there?" "No, but I'm going to call him as soon as I get off the phone here." "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." William just sobbed even harder. 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 continued to stroke her cheek. "They found me the same day you disappeared," he whispered. "And we've been lookin' for you ever since." "Doggett?" "Yeah Doc?" Her eyes opened wide, wild with fright. "What **day** IS it?????" ** 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 ignored her last comment as he burst through the Assistant Director's door without even knocking. A big goofy smile crossed his face when the petite blond woman got out of her seat and said "Hey Spooky," while stretching out her arms. 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." Mulder held her hands and looked her over. "Are you alright? What happened? Where did you go? What did they-" "Mulder, can the third degree wait until after I say hello?" Scully asked. Mulder, subdued, backed off while Scully came up and embraced her friend tightly. "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." "Hey Reyes," Starkweather smiled back at her, breaking away from Scully, crossing over to Reyes. "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?" Reyes blinked and looked at Starkweather again. Hazel eyes. Blond hair. Heart-shaped face. Pouty lips. And a funny little crescent shaped scar on her forehead. 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." Starkweather sat back down, as did Skinner. Reyes sat next to Doggett. Mulder and Scully remained standing. "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." "You don't remember a flash of light?" Mulder questioned her. "No." "Pounding noises?" "No." "Losing time? Nine minutes?" "Mulder, even if I could remember, I have nothing to prove it. They took everything! They took my watch, my jewelry, my necklace, my wedding ring, my cell phone, ID, my gun… Jesus, they stole my memory. You know I have a photographic memory, twenty years from now, you ask me about this day and I'll tell you every minute detail, including the color of socks you have on, which, by the way Mulder, doesn't match your suit." "Told you so," Scully whispered. "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-" "Mulder," Skinner growled authoritatively. "Enough. Agent Starkweather… tell us… how in the hell did you get from being in that plane, to Agent Doggett's doorstep?" She shook her head. "I woke up in an alley. At first, I was disorientated, but… lucid. I mean, I had a sense of self but no concept of time. Plus the fact that I was in like surgical scrubs freaked me out. Last thing I remember was being in one of my dress suits," she touched her long free- flowing hair. "With my hair pulled back. So I got up and just started walking, trying to figure out where I was. "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." "Maybe," Mulder started pacing. "What if, we have you undergo hypnosis, I know you said that your memory is **gone** but what if there was a chance that it really is buried or suppress-" "Mul-duh," Doggett spat out, "lay off already. Jesus." "He's right, Mulder," Scully said. "Let's just be grateful she's back." "But-" Mulder started to say. "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." "Oh, Doggett, come on…" "Stawk – weddah, we have no idea what happened to you. YOU have no idea what happened to you. I just wanna make sure everything's okay. Just a general check over." "Making sure there's no implants?" She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "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." "You might as well get it over with," Skinner advised her. "After all, we are going to require an FBI standard physical anyway to make sure you're fit for duty-" "With all due respect," Starkweather interrupted. "And this may be a lousy time to ask, but I was wondering if I could be granted a leave…. Or sabbatical? Like a month, maybe?" "Of course, you've been through a horrible ordeal." "Well, sir… and everyone else… that's just it… I was… thinking, on the drive over here… I may not come back after a leave though." Everyone was up in arms at that. "Jerilyn, you can't quit, not now!" Mulder cried. "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." "Thank you sir," Starkweather said, rising. "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." "Gee… remind me why I missed you?" "My charming personality and witty repartee?" "No…" Mulder smiled. "Anyway, smart-ass, I was trying to tell you, I'm not trying to be overbearing. I just want you to be okay. And I want to nail the bastards who took to you the wall." "I want that too," Starkweather said solemnly. "And a million dollars. And a pony." "One thing at a time, baby sister," Mulder said as they left the office, Doggett following, unable to wipe off the big shit-eating grin off his normally serious face. "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." "I'm fine," Reyes said in that same faint voice. She looked up at him. Thought about voicing her unspoken fear but one look at him, bending over his paperwork killed the idea before it was fully born. 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." But how in the hell was she going to be able to prove it? ** 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." "No," Starkweather shook her head, "don't go to any trouble. Caesar's a pain when he's riled." "Trust me," he grumbled, "it would be NO problem." "Are you implying that you don't like my cat?" "I ain't implyin', I'm flat out SAYIN' it." "Love me, love my cat." "It was nice knowin' ya, Doc, have a good life," he quipped. "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." "Okay," Doggett said, trying to keep the despair of rejection out of his voice. "I understand," he lied. "You gonna be okay in there by yourself?" he asked her. "Are you sure you don't want Dana or Monica or…?" "I'm fine," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I just want to be by myself tonight. To process what the hell happened. " "Call me if you need anything." "I will," Starkweather smiled at her partner and quietly shut the door. She turned to survey the living room, which was still unpacked. The furniture was arranged haphazardly. A few boxes were opened here and there. All the houseplants were dead. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. She leaned against the door, sighing. "What a mess," she groaned. A deep voice from the bedroom called out, "Is he gone?" 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." Bravo rolled her eyes and held out her hand. The Cancer Man handed her a smoke. She bent down a little for him to light it for her. Exhaling she said, "I know, I know, but I'm sorry. I really didn't feel like doing it doggie-style tonight. Besides, one, I knew you'd be waiting here for me. And two, Agent Starkweather doesn't strike me the type just to hop into bed with anyone. Especially since her husband had only just laid down for the dirt nap two months prior to her abduction," Bravo reclined on Starkweather's sofa as the Cancer Man sat in her armchair. "Where is Starkweather anyway?" "Secured," was all the Cancer Man would tell her. "But she's alive?" "For now. At the moment, she's far more valuable alive." "If she's smart, she'll cooperate," Bravo yawned. She was exhausted. "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." "Speaking of advantage, how did it go today?" "I'm going to have a problem with the flaky spick agent," Bravo growled crudely. "But the others? Hook, line and sinker. No problem." "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." "Can we keep her distracted long enough so I can complete my mission?" "I think so." "Can't we just kill her?" "Reyes, like Starkweather, is far more valuable alive." "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." "Have I ever let you down before?" "Never," he smiled fondly at her. "I don't plan on starting now," she folded her arms. "Besides, this is going to be a cakewalk. Just keep Reyes occupied." "Done." 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." "Teresa? She's in DC? Why? For how long?" "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?" "Tonight." "'Le rien, celui suce.'" 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. "How can you tell?" Reyes smiled as if Nathalique could see her. "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-" "Just as long you still like me more than her, I am fine with that." Reyes laughed, "Nat, I'm being serious." "Me too!" "Nat!" "Sorry, sorry. Go on, honey." "Like I said, I feel terrible. I see the faces of her friends, her family and they are just overjoyed. But me… it just doesn't feel right. I just don't believe it's her. It just doesn't **feel** like her. Am I making sense?" 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." "And a certain wonderful man has his sights set on a certain wonderful women?" "Nat…" "Oh come on, Mon! You even said to me that he's hot." "I was drunk," Reyes felt herself turning scarlet. "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." "Just don't mention that to him," Reyes muttered. "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." "That's humanity and you're just as human as the next one. And I have never met a single female human who did not have the green-eyed monster sitting on her shoulder when a man was concerned at least once in her life." "Please…" "Especially a good looking man." "Nat…" "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-" "Oh dear God, don't tell me you went and got a conscience since your romp with Brad 'baise sa mère' Follmer did you?" "Nat, please." "I'm sorry. It gives me great pleasure to insult your ex." "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." "I did, cher, I did. But I also told you not to let your feelings control you. Feelings are subjective. Don't discredit your feelings, but understand that they can be fallible," she reminded her gently. "Nat, in my line of work… anything is possible though." "True… les dossiers de X… right?" "Right." 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." "I know…" "I mean it Mon! And make sure you believe that this woman is not Jerilyn because you really doubt it's her and not because you want to get into John's pants and want her out of the way." "You make this sound like a soap opera." "Let's see… Monica meets John, he's married and loses child. So Monica moves to Brad who treats her like dirt while married John pines for Monica. Monica moves away. Monica meets John years later, who is divorced but is interested in Jerilyn who is married. Jerilyn becomes a widow. John disappears and is recovered just as Jerilyn disappears. John cries on Monica's shoulder. Monica wants John again but Jerilyn returns. You're right, Monique, that sounds NOTHING like a soap." Monica giggled. "Well, when you put it like that…" "Monique, just be careful. If you pursue this, a lot of people are going to get hurt." "I know." "Including you." "I know." Reyes suddenly felt overwhelmed. "Can we change the subject now?" "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." "What are you complaining about? I called YOU." "Oh yeah. Well, I guess I can gab a bit more." "Actually, I better let you go; you probably want to get ready for your company." 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." Reyes laughed out loud. "I am so sorry I had to cut that short when you and Carla and the others came to visit last December." "Well, you got an all expense paid trip to Hawaii because of it, so 'va te faire foutre chéri,'" Nat cursed smoothly. "I think you just need to take some time off and come back down to N'Awlins so I can fatten you up." "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 <> 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." Teresa Pilar Reyes grinned. "Good, I won't hear the crying baby if I'm passed out." She sipped at the excellent vintage that her big sister cracked open in honor of her visit. "You're spoiling me." "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." "Realistically," Teri sighed. "We both should try to go home-home and visit Mom and Dad." "I know," Reyes also sighed, feeling guilty. "It's just that I get so wrapped up with work and all…" "Me too," Teri confessed in a conspirator's voice. "You know, Mom and Dad tell me that they understand that I'm busy… but deep down, I don't think they do." "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?" "A nightmare," Reyes shook her head. "A case where if it could have gone wrong, it did. And I got pneumonia on top of it." "What where you investigating?" Reyes smiled, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me." "The island was populated with dinosaurs created from extraterrestrial DNA." Teri stared at her sister incredulously. "Alllllllllrighty then," she muttered. "Told you so." "Seriously," Teri pressed on. "Let's plan something for this summer. I've got some time off due to me in June. Let's surprise everyone and go there for Abuela and Abuelo Reyes's anniversary." 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. <> she thought. <> "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." "Do you like it?" "Like it? I love it. Ever since I heard of the X-Files, I've wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. I've always had a strong interest in mythology and folklore. The type of crimes the X-Files investigate are right up my alley." "Then why do you look so sad, Moni?" Teri called her by the baby name she unknowingly bequeathed onto her older sister years and years ago when she was just learning how to talk. "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." Excitement began to cut through the weariness and loneliness. "We could call up all the aunts and uncles and cousins… maybe Jaime and Elsa could fly down for a weekend visit." Jaime Reyes was a very successful international businessman who lived in Chicago with his wife, Elsa, who was originally from Peru. He had met her when they both were freshman at DePaul University and had been sweethearts ever since. "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?" "Huh?" "In my division… I'm the only one who doesn't have any major issues with their families." "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?" Reyes rolled her eyes. "In more ways than you could imagine." ****** 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. He was pure California. Born and raised. He even looked the stereotype, streaky blond hair, piercing blue eyes, bright Colgate white smile and golden tan. However, despite a passion for surfing, Liam was anything but a beach bum. He rarely got to go play in the surf and the sand for he was too busy working, even in the summer. He was a college professor at UCLA. A brilliant mathematician, he taught calculus, physics and algebra to all the undergrads. In the summers, he tutored struggling high school students, condemned to summer school. "Thanks," she smiled. "It's nice to be back. The weather was awful in DC." "How did the testimony go?" "Well, I didn't get stage-fright and forget my speech," she quipped as they walked into the short term parking garage. "Beyond that, I have no idea." She laughed, hiding her light under a basket, as usual. 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." "When?" They got out and started walking through the deserted garage. "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?" Liam stared fretfully at the empty parking spot. "My car is gone." "What?" she squawked, "Are you sure?" "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." "Are you sure?" "Teri! I've lived in LA all my life! Yes, I locked my car door!" "You better call the police then." "I can't," he groaned. "I left my phone in the car." "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?" Liam turned around and saw a uniformed man walking towards them. "It's a security guard," he said in relief. "Maybe he can help us." Liam walked towards him. "Hey, can you help us out 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, run," Liam moaned. 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?" "A man…. A man dressed as a security guard shot my boyfriend and he's after me," Teri sobbed as she sprinted down stair after stair. "Where are you ma'am?" "At LAX… we were on the third floor of the short-term parking garage and I'm-" She gasped as the security guard suddenly jumped out in front of her, blocking the exit. She screamed. "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. <> Reyes thought in dread. <> 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. "Your father and I are leaving for the airport as soon as we finish packing." "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…" "Monica…" 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. <> Reyes was startled to feel tears sliding down her cheeks. <> 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." "Doggett, hi. Sorry… was dead asleep. What's going on?" Bravo paused. "What's the matter?" <> "Jerilyn, I'm sorry, I have to go to Los Angeles for a few days." "Los Angeles? Why? For work or???" "Both. There…" he sighed. "There was a kidnapping." "A kidnapping? Who?" "Monica's kid sister." "Monica? As in Reyes? Are you serious?" Bravo kept her voice serious as a delighted smile crossed her face. "What happened?" "We don't know. According to the prelims, her boyfriend… um… " Doggett skimmed through the pages of emails he just printed out. "Dr. Liam Sealy, a professor at UCLA came to the airport to pick her up. At 11:27 PM, 9-11 received a call from who they believe to be Teresa Reyes. The caller said that her boyfriend had been shot by a man dressed as a security guard and he was after her. Then the phone call was suddenly terminated. Police arrived at the scene moments later. They found Sealy, shot three times. Teresa Reyes was nowhere to be found and Sealy's car was missing. They're going through surveillance video right now, but so far they are findin' squat. Which just doesn't sit right with me." "Why?" "Doc, the surveillance shows **nothing.** It doesn't even show Teresa Reyes and Liam Sealy entering the garage." "Which makes you think that it was tampered with?" <> she thought sarcastically. "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." He sounded so pathetically apologetic that Bravo wanted to reach through the phone and choke him. "I understand," she said simply. "How is Reyes' doing?" "Haven't talked to her yet," Doggett said. "She left for LA already. Her parents are flying out there. She's going to meet them out there." "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." "Yeah, I know," Doggett said, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he packed his duffel bag. "We cellar dwellers just can't cut a break, can we," he said bitterly. "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…" "There is something I do need to ask… as a favor…" "What?" "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." Doggett snorted. "Consider it payback for watchin' your damn cat. Which, by the way, you can come by and pick up while I'm in LA. I'll leave a key with Dana." "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." <> Bravo rolled her eyes. "Okay." "Bye Doc," Doggett hung up the phone. 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." "It's Agent Scully, sir," Agent Bonaventure Merchant of the CIA informed him with that obnoxious Marilyn-Monroe-rip-off voice she used when she was acting the role of his idiotic secretary, Bunny O'Dell. On request, Bunny had come to work as well. She wasn't very happy either. "She said it was important. It was about Agent Reyes." Mulder frowned. He wished he could like Reyes, he really did. But she annoyed the hell out of him. She was such a… he grinned in self-deprecation… <> He sighed. Pot, meet kettle. "Okay, put her through," Mulder said with another sigh. 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." "What?" Mulder leaned forward in his chair. "I… Jesus…" "I hope you feel like a horse's ass," Scully told him coldly. Bunny had to stifle a laugh. "I didn't know she had a sister," Mulder whimpered, indeed feeling like a horse's ass. "What happened?" Scully paced back and forth in the X-Files' basement office, with the phone headset on. As she was filling Mulder in on the details, she was scribbling notes as she watched a muted video surveillance tape. "Teresa Reyes, Monica's youngest sister, flew from Washington DC to LA last night. Her boyfriend, a Professor Liam Sealy from UCLA, came to the airport and picked her up. His vehicle, Mulder, is no where to be found. At roughly 11:30, Pacific Standard Time, 9-11 received a phone call that they believe is Teresa Reyes, begging for help because her boyfriend had been shot and the assailant was after her. Her cell phone was recovered in bits and pieces on the stairs of the short-term parking garage. The LAX video surveillance shows nothing…" "But…?" "I went to J. Edgar to see if there was anything I could assist with." "Who's watching Boo?" "He's here with me," Scully had her phone earpiece in and was bouncing William in her arms. "When I got down to the office, I found a VHS tape in my inbox this morning Mulder, before I received the news about the Reyes abduction. It's a security tape of LAX airport itself, Mulder… showing Liam Sealy greeting Teresa Reyes and walking towards baggage claims… and…" Scully paused the videotape and glared in loathing at the image on the screen. "Is definitely being followed by an old friend of ours…" William waved 'bye-bye' to the television screen. "Who? We have lots of old friends." "An old friend by the name of Knowles Rohrer. Our "friend" who tried to take our baby, kidnap Starkweather and kill Doggett." "Does anyone else know about this?" "No," Scully said. "I called you first… no I take that back. I called the Gunmen first to ask about how security your line is. They said unless Bunny is listening on the other end, it's fine. How are you today, Bonaventure?" Bunny flushed beat red. "Fine…" she mumbled. "… then I called you. I haven't told Skinner or John or… anyone." Mulder leaned back in his chair. "What do you think, Scully?" "I… I don't know… I mean… why attack Reyes? It doesn't make sense… Yesterday morning, Starkweather is returned to us and now today, Reyes' sister is kidnapped… why?" "Bunny?" "Mulder, you know how the CIA X-Files feels about Reyes. We see her as a liability. If Starkweather escaped, maybe they figured out where the chink in the X-Files armor is and they're exploiting it." "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." "Can't be," Scully said. "She would have told us." "Maybe she didn't have time," Mulder said ominously. "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. "Alpha?" Scully theorized. "Why?" Mulder snorted. "It's her doing that got Doggett and Starkweather abducted-" "Kidnapped." "To- MAY – to, to – MAH – to," Mulder droned. 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… <> 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." "What about Skinner?" "Leave him out of the loop for a while." "But he's a trusted ally," Scully protested. "Right now, he's up to his ass with Homeland Security shit. Which means he's with the Senior Staff about twenty-four- seven. Which means…" "He's going to be with Kersh…" "And that new guy… Follmer??" "Haven't met him yet," Scully admitted. "Well, he used to be Starkweather's boss in Minneapolis and they didn't exactly get along." "Gee, how come?" Scully rolled her eyes again, thinking of her friend's cutting tongue. "Speaking of Starkweather, think we should tell her?" Mulder paused. "No…" he finally said slowly. "She's been through enough. Let's just wait." "Fair enough." "Deputy Mayor, I'll be taking an EXTREMELY long lunch then," Bunny informed Mulder after Scully hung up. "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." Mulder grinned impishly. "Knew they weren't real," he taunted her as he hung up. "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-" Just then, another person rapped on the door. Another young agent stuck his head in. "Agent Reyes, come quickly." "What is it?" Fear flooded Reyes entire being. She felt nauseous. Doggett looked at his friend and resisted the urge to grab her hand and tell her it was going to be okay. Because it sure as hell was not going to be okay. He had the same strange sense of dread as he did when he first got the news that Luke had been taken away. "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." Both Doggett and Reyes were on their feet. "Got a trace goin'?" Doggett demanded. "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…" "Found her," the young man said as he ushered Reyes and Doggett inside. 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." Reyes gripped the table. Wild-eyed, she stared at Doggett. "Knowles," she said, more for Doggett's sake than anything else. "Knowles???" Doggett's face twisted in hate. "Knowles Rohrer?" "You know this man?" Agent Allende asked Doggett quietly. "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?" "You said that you have my sister," Reyes's knuckles turned white from gripping the phone so tightly. "I want to speak to her." Rohrer chuckled lowly. "When was the last time you had any fun, Agent Reyes? Your sister told me that you used to like to play games as a child. Would you like to play a game with me now?" "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." "She's occupied right now. Perhaps after I speak to John Doggett, she'll be able to come to the phone." Reyes looked at Agent Allende and Doggett. Agent Allende nodded and Doggett took the phone from her. "John Doggett." "Agent Doggett, how have you been?" "Knowles," Doggett summoned up all his patience and professionalism to quell the desire to scream obscenities into the phone. "What do you want?" "I'm bored, Agent Doggett," Rohrer told him. "Ever since you stopped coming to me for information, I haven't had anyone to play with." "Knowles, what do you want?" Doggett repeated himself through gritted teeth. "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?" "It's me. Starkweather." 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?" "Yes," Scully said, turning her back on Bravo, walking to the key hook next to her front door. 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?" "Love some," Bravo said, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. "Sorry I didn't come sooner," she said as she trailed behind Scully to the kitchen, taking careful inventory of her apartment. The pictures on the wall, the knickknacks, the books. Cards, invitations. Bills piling up on her desk. The sleek little notebook computer, courtesy of the FBI. A toy bear left on the floor. All the clutter that made a shelter a home. 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…" "Earl Grey is fine," Bravo said, sitting down at the kitchen table. As Scully filled the kettle on, Bravo assumed a tone of worry and asked, "Has Doggett called you about Reyes' sister yet?" "Not yet," Scully said sadly as she put the filled kettle on the stove. "But he said he would call with any updates." She sat down. "It never ends, does it?" <> Bravo groaned to herself while carefully maintaining the mask of concern she wore. <> she told herself. <> "No shit," Bravo said softly. "I… I don't know… I don't know what to say. I mean…" she shrugged her shoulders. "Do you think it's random or do you think that her disappearance may have to do with…" she waved her hands around a bit, as if she was searching for the right words. Impersonating Starkweather was so easy. She really wasn't a complicated as people perceived her as being. "… what has happened lately? To me or Doggett?" Scully hesitated. "It might be…" she finally said. "Mulder said not to tell you at first because of all what may have happened… but…" Scully opened the file, turned it around and pushed it towards Bravo. She got up again when the kettle shrieked. "Knowles Rohrer," Bravo said tonelessly. "That son-of-a- bitch." That sentiment was sincere. "You think he's behind this?" Scully nodded. "Someone gave me a video surveillance tape, showing Rohrer shooting Teresa Reyes' boyfriend, then chasing after Teresa Reyes." She popped in a tea bag in each cup and filled it with scalding hot water. Bravo covered her mouth. "Why would he be after her?" she asked as she thought <> "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." "But why Reyes? If it's payback for me somehow getting away, wouldn't they have done something to Mulder instead? Or… or Doggett?" Bravo began thumbing through the files. "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." "Yeah… but still… doesn't make sense…" Bravo muttered, still reading. "Why would Rohrer take such a risk to expose himself to Doggett like this?" Scully shrugged. "Doggett and Reyes are close friends. Maybe he thinks if he hurts Reyes, he hurts Doggett." "Yeah… but that's Mafia mentality. Not Syndicate." Scully exhaled, slightly exasperated. "You're the profiler," she said. "What do you think?" Bravo drummed her fingers on her chin as she thought of an elaborate lie. "I think… I think Rohrer is working outside of the Syndicate in this matter. "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." "So to feed his faltering self-esteem, he decides to become a Super Soldier?" 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." <> Bravo fumed. "I know, that's what I don't get," she admitted. "The only thing I can think of off the top of my head is that maybe Rohrer dove in headfirst into the shallow end of the pool." "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." Scully frowned. "Jerilyn, you are supposed to be resting." Bravo widened her eyes innocently. "I am resting. This will be my bedtime reading. Are there more files on Rohrer?" "A few. Not many though. Rohrer is a recent development." Scully frowned severely at Bravo. "Jerilyn, no…" "Aw, Scully, what could reading up on some old X-Files hurt any?" Scully gave up. "Meet me tomorrow at J. Edgar around two o'clock then." She sighed again. "Maybe you'll see something we can't." "I'll try," Bravo said sincerely. Then she thought <> 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." <> Bravo thought. "Let's do it tomorrow. I'm still… I'm still re-adjusting. After all… it's only been one day plus with all this shit going on with Reyes…" Scully reached out and warmly clasped Bravo by the hand. "I'm so glad you're back," she whispered. Tears were threatening again. <> 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." "Do you have any memories? From when…?" Scully shook her head. "Only flashes. In dreams." "What about Mulder?" Scully took a deep breath. "Some. He remembers some." "What…" Bravo had to struggle to sound like she really cared. "What about Doggett? Does he...?" "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. <> 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. <> 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. <> "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. <> 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.** <> **The FBI does not exist here.** <> **Get up.** <> "John, get up…" <> "John," Agent Reyes leaned over and shook him a little. Doggett's eyes flew open. "Are you alright?" The nightmare trickled away from his conscious. "Yeah," Doggett said, wiping the sweat off of his face with his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. What 'bout you? Holdin' up okay, Mon?" He sounded guilty. "Did somethin' happen?" Doggett was in one of the lackluster break rooms in the Los Angeles Field Office. He had sat down on of the uncomfortable arm chairs and nodded off. "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." "And?" She sat down in the other uncomfortable chair across from him. "He suggested that I distance myself from this case." "But he isn't pulling you off?" "Not as of yet." "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." Doggett grunted. "I'm ready to go whenever the strike team is." He walked over to the water cooler and pulled out two little paper cups. Pouring water for both of them, he asked, "How are your parents?" "Scared. Confused why this is happening." She accepted the water from Doggett. "Thank you." "Monica," Doggett said as gently as he could. "I think you should stay in LA with your family when we go to Anaheim." 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." Reyes nodded, gulping down her tears. "I know," her voice trembled. "I know, it's… just… so… hard. When it's happening to you." She dabbed her eyes with the napkin. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "When are we leaving for Anaheim?" "You sure?" Doggett said. "You absolutely sure, Monica?" "Positive. I want to find Teri. I want to bring her home." "Okay," Doggett said, recalling another irony. **You sure Detective Doggett? You sure you want to go to South Carolina?** **Yes'm Agent Reyes, I'm sure. I wanna find Luke. I wanna bring 'im home to his mother.** Would the nightmares ever end? **** 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. Spying a gas station, she made an illegal U-turn to change lanes and swung into the gas station's driveway. 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?" "I want to know what the fuck you are doing," Bravo snapped as she watched the dollar amount climb. "They have you on tape, you idiot." "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!" "They?!?!?! Who are 'They'? The Syndicate?" Rohrer clutched the phone and sneered. "Just do your part of the job and I'll do mine. That smoky old man isn't finished yet. He's just warming up." "What do you mean?" Bravo held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she put the gas nozzle back on the pump and screwed the fuel cap shut on the decrepit Dodge Dynasty. "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?" Justin Leo looked back at him. "All clear." "Alright," he said, slipping on the ski mask. "See you back at the rendezvous." He loaded his gun. 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. But that was Bravo's assignment. Not his. 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." The Senator sighed again and fought tears as she took another drink. It was going to be another night of drinking herself senselessly so she could pass out to get some sleep. The Syndicate watched her. The CIA watched her. The people of the United States would be watching her soon, 2002 was an election year for her. <> 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. <> he thought bitterly. He was really looking forward to a night of what Scully called 'Let's Pretend We're Normal' Night. Mulder called it 'Our Alternate Universe' Night. Whatever it was called, it was when Mulder and Scully got to spend time together with their son. And once dinner was over and William, tuckered out from all the quality time, was safely in bed, they could screw like bunnies on the couch, the bed, the floor… "Mulder," he answered wearily. "It's me," a deep voice said. "Call me back on a secured line." "Shit," Mulder grumbled as the line went dead. Lux Carlos of the CIA. He was never a harbinger of good news. 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." "We've got a big problem." "Job security." "It's the Senator." "Oh, god damn it," Mulder cursed, getting up from behind his desk. Rubbing his neck, he stood in front of the massive windows of his office, staring off at the bright lights of the nation's capitol. "Now what did she do?" "She's gone." "Gone? I thought you guys were watching her!" "We were. Are… listen, some dude broke into her house and took her out by gunpoint to her car. They drove off and we lost visual in traffic. But we've got a tracking devise on the car, so we know where she is. Looks like she's heading upstate. She's still in Maryland." "You sure this is kidnapping?" Mulder asked. "Or was this staged? You know that the Senator had gotten in deep with the Syndicate. And that she's desperate to get Lilly back. And speaking of that traitorous bitch-" "No clue where she is," Carlos sighed. "After that whole thing with Jerilyn…" Carlos found himself at a loss for words. To hide his speechlessness over the recovery of the woman he had given everything, including her, up for, he said to Mulder. "On a side note, I've got some of my guys on the Teresa Reyes case too. I've sent two agents out to Anaheim. They're canvassing Disneyland right now." "Why Disneyland?" "Hasn't Agent Doggett called in yet?" "Haven't heard anything. But maybe he talked to Skinner or Scully." "Rohrer left a not-so-subtle hint for Doggett to meet him in the 'happiest place on earth.'" "Christ. All those people." "Exactly. One great big happy Mickey Mouse-ifed human shield." Mulder groaned. "Maybe we'll get lucky and while Rohrer is on the Small World ride, it will break down and he'll commit suicide to get away from the music." "He can't die, Mulder." "Even better," he droned. "Trapped for eternity listening to ugly little dolls singing the same song. Over and over. A fate worse than fire and brimstone." Carlos wanted to beat his head against his desk. "Can you meet me here at HQ in an hour?" "Can we make it an hour and a half? I want to sneak a quickie in with Scully." "Too much info, brother," Carlos groaned. *** 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. <> "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…" <> Doggett couldn't help think, feeling some irritation. "Monica," he said. "I know it looks bad and feels bad, but you can't think the worst, not yet. Okay, hang in there." <> he sighed as they continued to walk hand in hand. 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. For himself, it had been isolation. However, Reyes nodded, willing away the tears. <> she told herself. <> "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." "S'alright, Mon," he told her but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking a little beyond her. Past the Dumbo the Flying Elephant Ride and the Mad Tea Party spinning tea cups ride. "Oh shit…" "What is it?" Reyes asked, not turning around. "We're a bit early for the party," Doggett growled. "But that's not the only problem." "Why?" "Rohrer's brought a guest," Doggett muttered as he began to maneuver Reyes and himself through the crowds. "A guest?" "A small guest," he grunted. 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. <> she thought. <> she berated herself. <> 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. <> 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. *** Meanwhile 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?" "Oooo," The little girl pushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes. "I dunno…" She looked around. "Oh, can we go on that? Can we? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" Knowle Rohrer laughed at the child's innocence. "Sure sweetheart," he said with a grin. "Then I better get you back." "Oh," her face fell. Her lower lip stuck out a bit. "We can't stay for the fireworks? Or the parade?" "Sorry, honey, maybe next time," Rohrer promised her as she lead him towards the "It's a Small World" ride. The line was short. For Disneyland anyway. 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. She couldn't see Rohrer, but she could see the little girl. An almost piteously thin child, she appeared to be daydreaming, Taking in the sights, a big smile on her little face. Her little face was, to Reyes' untrained eye anyway, extremely pale. The girl was still holding Rohrer's hand. He tugged on her arm gently and she turned to him. 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?" "He knows we're here. He knows we're in line. I'm to put my phone on vibrate and wait for him to call once we're in the ride." Doggett looked up at the sign and groaned. "This must be his idea of torture." 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?" "Sure, honey," Rohrer acted generous today. "After the ride, I'll get you a big Mickey Mouse. How does that sound?" "Really? Can I have the biggest Mickey Mouse?" "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…" Doggett contemplated jumping into the canal and ending it all, making the agony vanish. He looked up and saw the first of the cutesy little animatronic people and decided that using the dancing dolls as target practice would be a whole lot more fun than killing himself. 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…" "Aw, I'm sorry." He loosened his hold, but only slightly. "I was just trying to give you a hug…" Doggett and Reyes sat two boats behind them. "Now what?" Reyes breathed. "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." Reyes forgave him for the vulgarity. 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." "Let me speak to the lovely Agent Reyes, please." Doggett handed the phone over to Reyes. "Agent Reyes." "When you were a little girl, no more than maybe, nine, ten? Your parents took you and your brother and sisters to a trip to Disneyland. Do you remember that? And you got in trouble because instead of staying with your parents, you ran off. Tell me, Agent Reyes, why did you run off?" Her voice was soft, but strong. "I saw Piglet. From Winnie- the-Pooh. He was surrounded by kids. He was giving autographs. I wanted him to sign my book. He was moving away from my family. I followed the Piglet mascot into Frontierland." "And got yourself lost, didn't you?" "Yes. I was separated from my parents for about two hours." Reyes leaned slightly towards Doggett in hopes of being able to see Rohrer and the little girl. However, the love birds became snuggle-bunnies and Reyes couldn't see anything beyond their groping each other. "Were you frightened, Monica Julieta Reyes? Were you afraid of never seeing your parents again? Your brother Jaime? Your sisters… Vanessa…. Teresa?" Anger kindled in the pit of Reyes' stomach. "Why did you take Teri? Why didn't you take me instead?" "Because, you are a very special woman, Monica," Rohrer leaned back in his seat. "We need you…" "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." "Who is that little girl?" Reyes demanded. 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…" "Ask him." Reyes covered the cell phone's mouthpiece. "He said to ask you how you would feel if the child… if the child you thought was dead all this time… really wasn't…" 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." "That's all YOU want. Or to be more accurate, that's all Agent Reyes wants. Could I please finish speaking to her, Agent Doggett?" Jaw set, he handed the phone back to Reyes. "Agent Reyes, you there?" "Yes," she said quietly. "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?" "Because at the time, I couldn't speak English very well." "And once they found someone who was bilingual, they were able to find out who you were and who your parents were, correct?" "Yes but I-" "You realize, you're still lost, don't you?" Rohrer continued to stroke the girl's pretty hair. "And you still don't really know who your parents are, do you?" Reyes fought with herself not to rise to his bait. She summoned her training in hostage situations. The music made it difficult to concentrate. She stuck her finger in her other ear. "What? Rohrer, I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you-" "I was saying Reyes that Teri's disappearance was an object lesson for you. All your life you have been warned about the dangers of wandering off. And you were given very good advice by a mutual friend of ours. To stay in New York and be a good federal agent. Not to be a rebel and go work in the X-Files. Do you remember who gave you that advice?" <> she thought. She stayed silent. "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?" For one wild minute, Reyes thought he was talking about Scully. Then she collected her wits. Sort of. "What? I…" "Red is my favorite color. Say… how about we meet at the Sequoia National Park tomorrow?" he asked casually. As if they were friends planning an outing. "Teresa might be there. We could see the Redwoods." "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. <> he thought wildly as he looked this way and that for any sign of the girl. <> 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. <> 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." Agent Santiago Allende rushed to him. "Give her to me," he ordered. "I know CPR." To one of his subordinates he shouted "Where's the ambulance? Where's a doctor? Get 'im here! Now!" 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." Allende stood up. His black hair was matted to his head. He ran his fingers through it, making it stick up on end. He slung off his soaking wet jacket. "Well," he said in his soft voice as he tugged on his ruined tie. "I'm not ready to give up, are you?" Doggett eyed this slender, unassuming man in a drenched black suit from Brooks Brothers. Allende met his gaze evenly. Doggett decided he liked this guy. "No. I'm not," he said gruffly. "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." The girl had her face pressed against Reyes' shirt. After a little more coaxing, she finally lifted her head. Looking at Doggett first, then Allende, she whispered. "I wanna go home… I want my dad…" "We'll get you home," Doggett promised. "Tell us your dad's phone number and we'll get you home." "I don't know his phone number," she whimpered. Doggett and Allende looked at each other. "Queridita, what are your parents' names?" "My dad's name is Ilar Falsch." "And your mother?" "I don't have a mother." Doggett and Allende exchanged another look. "Where is your dad right now? Do you know?" Doggett asked the girl gently. 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." "Mulder, it's A.D. Skinner. Where are you?" "Tahiti," Mulder droned. "Decided to give up the rat race to live in the tropics and watch girls dance in coconut bras and grass skirts." "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." "Cut the crap, Mulder," Skinner snarled at him just like in the old days when Skinner was the boss and Mulder was the underling. "I got news on the Teresa Reyes case." "And?" "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…" "And what's that?" Mulder heaved a sigh. "Write my letter of resignation." "When did you decide on this?" "Tonight…" After his meeting with Carlos, Mulder realized that he could no long spread himself out so thin anymore. Skinner paused before saying, "I'm sorry Mulder." "Yeah… me too… but… how does that saying go? 'You can't be a servant to two masters.'?" "How does Dana feel about this?" "She… um… isn't going to be happy." "She doesn't know." "Not yet. I meant to talk to her about it tonight but…" "Understandable." "Wanna meet at a coffeeshop or a bar?" "God, please…" Skinner groaned, taking his glasses off and rubbing his forehead. "A bar. I need a drink." After figuring out which bar to meet at, Mulder left Scully another message that he was going to be even later. He got her voice mail. He hoped she wasn't going to be too terribly upset. He thought about calling Starkweather, he hadn't called her once today. Then decided it was too late and he would call her tomorrow and ask her to have lunch with him. 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." "Hi, Walt," Mulder said brightly. "How are you doing?" Skinner scowled at him but whatever he was going to say was lost by the waitress's arrival. "And what would you like, handsome?" she said coyly, observing Mulder's expensive suit, flickering hazel eyes and pouting lips. She put her hand on his damp shoulder in a flirtatious manner. "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?" Skinner filled him in on the chaos in California. Mulder ran his fingers through his rain soaked hair, making it stand up in spikes. He shook his head. "Now what?" "Well, right now, Agent Doggett and the agent of record, Santiago Allende are trying to figure out who this kid belongs too." "What did she say her name is?" "Rowan." "Pretty name," Mulder murmured. "And what was her father's name again?" "Ilar Falsch." 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…" "Do you…" Skinner asked slowly. "Think this is connected with Starkweather in any way?" Mulder pursed his lips together. Knitted his brows together in thought. "It's possible. It's very possible. Although why the attack is on Reyes and not Doggett or myself… doesn't make any sense… but…" Mulder shook his head. "There's more…" "What's that?" "This stays in between you, me and this bowl of peanuts." Skinner nodded his head tersely. "I met with Carlos tonight," Mulder said, noting with mild amusement how Skinner's expression became even surlier than usual. "Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey was kidnapped this evening. So far, Carlos has been monitoring her movements, they're heading north…" "You believe the Senator is connected?" "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?" "Do YOU?" 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." "Thank the City of Washington, D.C. Figured I better enjoy my perks while I can," Mulder tried to grin. "Mulder, back to my question," Skinner took a drink of his beer. "About the girl?" "Yes." "I don't know…" Mulder said. "Maybe he told the girl he was her father to gain her trust but…" A big boom of thunder overpowered even the game blaring on the television and the chatty voices of the bar's patrons. The band stopped playing. The lights and the televisions flickered for a moment. A weather advisory crawl appeared on the various television screens when the power stopped wavering. 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?" Doggett asked as Reyes entered the interrogation room and warmly greeted Rowan, pulling out a chair, sitting next to her. "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." "That'll take time," Doggett turned his attention back to Reyes and the little girl. Reyes appeared to be comforting the child, rubbing her back and asking if she wanted a soda or some juice. The girl shook her head. "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." "Why's that?" Doggett murmured as he filed the file open and started to read. "Because Teresa Reyes has been missing for over forty-eight hours now. Because Rowan is a very sick little girl," Allende now turned to watch Reyes with the child again. The girl was crying again, her face buried in her arms. "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." "I dunno…" she whimpered. "I can't say." "Who said you couldn't say? Your father?" Rowan nodded, hiccoughing now, conflicted. Torn between the desire to protect her father and to go home. 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?" She nodded. "Do you know your doctor's name?" "There's lots of 'em," she mumbled rested her head back on her arms. "I dunno…" "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." "And?" "Kid's definitely anemic but as to what type, the doctor wasn't sure… she said she'd have to run more tests… but it's not good…" Allende sighed. "Types of anemia?" Doggett asked. "Didn't know there were 'types'. Thought you were just 'anemic' if you had it." Allende shook his head. "I didn't know either. But the doctor said that they are several kinds of anemia. She said that she thinks Rowan might have aplastic anemia but it could be toxic hemolytic anemia. As to what the difference is, you've got me. I really didn't have time to discuss the details with her. But she did tell me one thing though, which concerns me." "What's that?" "She said that anemia more often than not, is a symptom, not a disease." "A symptom?" Doggett said, turning to look at Allende. "Of a greater problem?" Allende nodded. "We should probably get this kid taken care of then." Allende nodded again. "We're talking with the administration of the Children's Hospital. They're helping up set up an isolated room in the hospital where we can have twenty-four hour guard for he-" "That's not good enough," Doggett said quietly. Allende seemed a little annoyed. "I don't understand." "You don't…" Doggett paused. <> he wondered. "Knowles Rohrer is an extremely dangerous man. He is…. He seems invincible. I guarantee you… just a regular guard is not gonna be good enough if Rohrer decides he wants her back." "What do you suggest?" Doggett focused on Rowan again. Now she was curled up in Reyes' arms, sobbing still. Reyes looked up helplessly at the mirror. Towards them. "What kinda treatment does Rowan need?" "Don't know." "Call this doctor back. Find out if whatever treatment this little girl needs can be administered in an FBI-secured safe house. And I got some connections to the CIA. I'll see if they can send a guard or two down to protect her." "You can't be serious." Doggett swiveled his head to pin Allende down with a cold stare. "Don't argue with me on this Allende," he said in that deadly quiet voice few quarreled with. 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?" *** Later 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. "Sorry," he whispered sheepishly as he shut the door and relocked it. "S'ok," Scully said with a yawn. "What's going on?" she asked sleepily as Mulder walked over, reaching down for the footstool. Pulling the footstool towards the chair Scully was snuggled in, Mulder sat down in front of her. A little more awake now, Scully asked again. "What's going on, Mulder?" Mulder quietly filled her in on almost everything. "… 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." "Well, thank you for considering me." "God damn it Scully," Mulder stood up now, looking down at her. "What do you expect me to do? Stay at City Hall as powerful as a eunuch. Watching what's going on, knowing the truth and doing nothing?" Trying to keep his voice down, remembering the child sleeping in the next room, he said "I was only supposed to be the Deputy Mayor for a little while, Scully, you knew that. Admiral Bailey-" Jerilyn Starkweather's adoptive father, killed during the Pentagon Attack on September 11. "-was friends with Mayor Swanson who just happened to have that position come open because the original Deputy Mayor went on maternity leave and then decided to become a stay-at-home mother. The Admiral also had some influence over Kersh. I was only supposed to be DM long enough for the Admiral to exert his influence over Kersh to get my termination from the Bureau overturned and have me reinstated to the X-Files. Relieving Doggett to be the Assistant Director when Skinner retires. Well, the Admiral is dead Scully. All bets are off now." "The Admiral had said it might be a year or two before he was able to get you reinstated to the X-Files," Scully stood up as well, kicking off the quilt she was snuggling under. "And what do you mean by 'relieving' Doggett of the X-Files?" "Come on Scully…" Mulder scowled at Scully. "It nothing personal but Doggett just doesn't… fit… with the X-Files." "Agent Doggett has done wonders for the X-Files Division," she defended her friend hotly. "I can't believe how ungrateful you are. If he wasn't keeping the pressure on Kersh with his ongoing investigation into his office, Kersh would have closed the X-Files a long time ago. Or re- assigned to rookies or agents in the glue who just don't give a damn anymore." "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." "There is no justice," Scully said bitterly, wrapping her arms around her. "Not if that means you and I will be separated again." "Scully," Mulder said tenderly. "You don't need me. You've never needed me…" A crooked grin crossed his face. "Okay, so you needed me for ONE thing," he jerked his head in the direction of William's nursery. "And let me tell you, that was a hot date. Me, you and a turkey baster…" "Mulder," Scully snapped again. "I am serious. I can not raise that child on my own." He took a step closer. "You can't think like that, Scully. I could be run over by a bus tomorrow." "Oh, you plan on walking out in front of a bus?" "Not the same thing." "Yes it is." "I don't see you quitting your job as a federal agent." Gulping, she admitted. "No… but I'm being reassigned." "Re-assigned?????" "To Quantico. I get a hefty pay raise… but it wasn't a choice, Mulder. Transfer is effective May 19." "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." "She thinks it's her life. And she thought that before she was abducted. She may have changed her mind. Scully," Mulder said, desperate to make her understand. "Don't you see? Doggett is going to be promoted out of there. He's too valuable and he doesn't make waves. Starkweather… we don't know about… she may not be healthy enough to even come back… did you think about that?" Fear tainted his voice slightly now. "Don't you remember what happened to you after your abduction experience?" Involuntarily, Scully's hand made its way to the soft dimple of skin right under her nose. She jerked her hand away. "She had a thorough medical exam. There was no chip in the back of her neck!" "And there was none in the back of mine," Mulder said soberly. "And look at me, dependant on those damn injections for the rest of my life." Thanks to Scully's brilliant stroke of insight and her cocktail of powerful antibiotics and other forms of chemotherapy, she inadvertently created a vaccine to combat the alien virus that threatened to turn Mulder into a replicant like Billy Miles. However, it was not a complete cure. With his immune system severely depressed, Mulder kept getting ill at every turn. The illnesses only progressed, hinted at a return to the madness that plagued him after his first exposure to the Black Oil. 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." "It's only Reyes, and look what they're doing to her. They stole her sister. It's déjà vu all over again." Now he was the one that was bitter. "Scully. They killed everyone. My father," meaning Bill Mulder, not the Cancer Man, the male who donated the sperm that gave him, Samantha and Starkweather life. "My mother," who ended up also killing herself, but out of guilt in her role of the charade. "Samantha," the ultimate irony. Her disappearance sparked Mulder's mania. And she had died when she was fourteen. He was only eighteen at the time, never realizing that what he was searching for would remain forever lost. 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." "You thought," Scully spat "that the CIA was the enemy. "I thought everyone was the enemy," Mulder countered angelically. "Hell, Scully, I thought YOU were the enemy at first." "Then you learned to trust me." "And how to look down your blouse without you noticing." "Oh, I noticed," she added coldly, tugging her robe over her chest tighter. "Mulder, you'd get on top of the television if you could look down the blouse of Diana Sawyer." "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?" "Because," she finally admitted. "I don't want things to change. I don't want… I… want things back to the way… the used to be… before…" She waved her hands around distractedly. "I don't know. Good night." She turned to leave. "Good night Mulder." Mulder trailed her into her bedroom. He stood in the door frame, not daring to come in. He watched her shrug off her heavy fleece robe. The rain continued to pelt the house. Branches scraped against the window. Scully's silhouette glowed in the lightening flashes. "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." Scully nodded, moving to sit beside him. "When I was little, Bill and Charlie used to try and scare me whenever it stormed. But… I was never afraid…" she reached out to stroke William's face. "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," Mulder did not miss a step. "I need to do this for William. I have to be sure I did everything in my power to keep him safe. I can't do that as the Deputy Mayor of DC. If anything, with me as a political figure, in the public eye, puts William more at risk." "I know." "I made a promise to you Scully," he said to her, his hazel eyes deepening to a rich amber hue as he spoke. "I promised I would not leave unless you told me too. I am not leaving Scully. I am just stepping down as DM. That's all. I'm not…" he didn't finish his sentence. He looked back down at William. "He fell back asleep." 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." Mulder complied silently. Lightening once again lit up the room even though the thunder's power was diminishing. 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. The cat scratches looked to be infected. Red, raw and oozing still. Plus they hurt like hell. She opened the medicine cabinet above the old fashioned sink and found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a few cotton balls. Closing the cabinet again, she set to work on cleaning out the wounds. The peroxide stung as well, but Bravo had suffered worse injuries in the past and so the tinge of antiseptic did not faze her very much. 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. As Bravo pulled out a sleek, silvery valise, she knew she had to find a better hiding place. Eventually Scully and Mulder would want to drop in to see how she was doing. She couldn't keep the apartment in shambles. Starkweather was a notorious neat-freak. 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. But Bravo couldn't voice that sentiment. She could only sense it and brood upon it. *** Meanwhile… Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California "Agent Reyes?" Reyes turned around. "Yes, Agent Allende?" "Agente Reyes, necesita sueño," Allende told her in their native language. "¿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 and raised here in sunny Cali," he told her. "My parents were from Chile. Their families fled the dictatorship there. They were very young when they came to the States. You?" "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?" "Not a whisper." Allende walked closer to her now. "And I was serious a moment ago. I wasn't just trying to show off 'mi español'," he told her quietly. "You are worn out. You need sleep. You aren't going to find Teresa any faster if you collapse from exhaustion," he said sternly. When Reyes didn't answer, he added, "I've also spoken to your parents. They are worried about you as well. They haven't seen you all day. I promise you, Agent Reyes, if we hear anything, we will call." "Okay," Reyes finally relented. "You have my cell?" "We have your cell, your hotel room's number, your parent's room number and your partner's cell phone and hotel room's number," he assured her. "Get some rest. I've already told your partner to take you to the hotel." "Where is he?" Reyes asked wearily. Allende told him which room Doggett was in. "He's speaking to the pediatrician that's caring for Rowan as well as instructing the agents who will be guarding her." Reyes nodded and shuffled off. "Agent Reyes?" She turned around. "You're going the wrong way," he admonished her gently. Her eyes instantly welled up. "Oh…" Allende walked up to her. "I'll take you, it's okay," he said lightly. "I get lost in here too." He escorted her to Interview Room C. "Agent Doggett?" he called out, rapping on the glass. "Yeah?" "It's Allende and Reyes." "Alright." Allende opened the door for Reyes. Reyes walked in and introduced herself to the three strangers in the room with Doggett. Two federal agents studied her gravely and nodded. A pleasingly plump woman in jeans and an orange sweatshirt with shockingly pink flowers screen printed on the front, stood up from her seat. "Dr. Sonia Fix," she said, reaching out for Reyes hand. Reyes nodded she had a firm handshake. "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…" "Dr. Fix," Doggett said patiently, "I already explained why that is not possible." She sighed heavily. "I know… but…" she stopped trying to fight them. "I would like to go to Rowan now. Make her comfortable. We should get the full results of her blood profile tomorrow morning." "Okay," Doggett nodded. "Thank you for comin' on such short notice Doc." He visibly winced after the word 'Doc' slipped out of his mouth. Only Reyes noticed. She suddenly felt very weak- kneed and dizzy. <> "Agent Reyes?" Dr. Fix was on her feet now. Doggett was instantly at her side. "Monica." "I have to talk to you," she muttered. "Alone." 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." "Will do," Allende promised. 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… " "Monica," Doggett looked at her sadly as he paused by the passenger side door. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself." "No, you don't understand…" "Monica," he said lowly. "I know you think it's 'cause of Starkweather." "You do?????" Reyes' jaw dropped. 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." Reyes' heart sank. "No… that's… that's not it at all John. It's…" Her voice faltered. 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. <> she thought dully as she allowed Doggett to open the car door for her and guide her inside. <> As Doggett drove them back to the hotel, Reyes sat in silence, still pondering. <> Maybe she was going off the deep end. <> 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. <> 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 <> 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. <> he told himself, settling back down, trying to get back to sleep. <> He hoped. ** Monday, April 29, 2002 5:55 AM, Eastern Standard Time Scully's apartment Georgetown Scully jerked awaked. She rolled over. "Mulder?" Agent Doggett was not the only one having strange dreams. Mulder's face shone with perspiration. He was muttering something in his sleep. His hands were even moving, as if he was trying to claw his way to something. "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 leaned closer to him. "Yes?" "You've got the worst case of halitosis right now…" She sniffed. "Last time I act concerned about you." He reached up for her face and guided her down towards him. After kissing her tenderly, he whispered, "Now that's love, Scully… tasting your nasty morning breath…" 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?" "World peace," he groaned. "And coffee. Lots of coffee." "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?" Special Agent Robert Comer just glanced at her, then looked back at the road. "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." The Senator complied. "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." She nodded. 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." "Get in the truck, Senator," the man said again, politely, but coldly as he opened his flannel shirt to reveal a shiny black Beretta, 9000 S, Type F. For a weird moment, the Senator flashed back to Christmas last year. When she had invited Starkweather over to open presents and to eat roast turkey, new potatoes and pecan pie. Before dinner, she had invited Starkweather to sit down in the living room and have a drink. As she did so, the leg of her jean rose up slightly and the Senator noticed a glimmer of metal on her ankle. "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. "What's what?" she had asked her stepmother, confused. When the Senator's eye had wandered down to her leg, embarrassed, Jerilyn had muttered. "Oh…" and pulled up her jean leg even more so it would be easier to pull out her gun. She held it flat on her hand, showing the Senator, not pointing it at her at all. "My Beretta," she had explained to her as the Senator felt a thrill of fear. She had never been so close to a gun before. She knew that, as a federal agent, Jerilyn would, of course, have a gun. She just never dreamed that she would be armed at all times. "It's new…I used to have the 950 Jetfire series… but… I like this better." She had smirked at the Senator's nervous expression. "Don't worry, Jenny," she had laughed as she re-holstered it. "It's safetied. And I wouldn't shoot you." 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?" Agent Ambrose Chapel of the CIA shook his head. "None. So far, anyway. I'm going to have to come up with an interesting lie to tell when Agents Carlos and Joshi asked me how I lost the Senator, but…" he shrugged. "I'm not too concerned. Once Rohrer and Bravo really start moving, they aren't going to notice the Senator." "Mulder might," Comer said darkly. Chapel shrugged. "Mulder is going to be neutralized." "How?" *** Meanwhile… 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." Startled, Teresa Reyes looked up at the muscular man with the unkind face. She didn't attempt speech, as her mouth was still sealed with duct tape. Her hands were also bound with duct tape. She had not slept nor drank nor eaten since the beginning of her horrifying ordeal. 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 As she slid into the bright red booth, Bravo saw that Mulder had already ordered himself an appetizer. "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?????" "Cat," she said, feigning a note of sorrow as she swirled the strip around and around in the little cup of honey mustard. "I don't think Caesar recognized me, I've been gone for so long. Animals don't exactly have photographic memories you know. They're loyal to the one that feeds them, I guess," she acted if she was pretending not to be distressed. She knew that Starkweather loved that fucking cat from hell. She would have been extremely upset if that orange puffball didn't recognize her. Mulder studied her cheek intently. "Where is Caesar now?" "Doggett's," she shook her head. "He wouldn't let me get him in his carrier. And I gotta get Caesar out of there before Doggett comes back." She took a bite of the chicken strip. The meat was warm and crispy, the mustard zesty. "Otherwise he's going to kill me. I know he hates my cat." "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…" "Yeah?" "It's not going well." Bravo could have done back flips of joy. "Oh… damn." "Yeah." "Poor Reyes." She fiddled with her watchband. She remembered that Starkweather had an annoying tic, she fidgeted with her jewelry when she was agitated. There was no wedding ring, no necklace. Bravo improvised with the watch. It was a nice watch too, golden and expensive. Bravo wondered if it a gift from the Not-So-Wicked Stepmother, the Honorable Senator Wesley-Bailey. "Jesus." "I know," Mulder ran his fingers through his hair, then adjusted his ugly tie. "I know… this hits a little close to home for me. Which is why I wanted to talk to you today." "Hi!" a squeaky voice interrupted his bland monotone. "My name is Hailey and I will be your waitress today. Are we ready to order or do we need a few more minutes?" 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." Bravo's ears perked up. "Oh really?" she said, arching her eyebrow, Starkweather-style. "Why is that?" 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." "I'm listening." "I'm going CIA fulltime." Bravo raised her eyebrows and silently applauded him. <> "I'm surprised Scully allowed it." Mulder scowled. "I am not Scully's pet." Bravo snorted. "Come on, Mulder," she said patronizingly. "We know how Scully feels about you in the CIA. Especially when William is concerned." "William was a big motivator in my decision." "Really? I know single motherhood is in vogue and all." "Why does everyone think I'm going to get myself killed?" "I'm sorry… was it YOU that was exhumed from his grave only two years ago?" "Thus proving my point," Mulder said airily. Bravo rolled her eyes, a genuine emotional reaction. <> "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." <> Bravo thought. <> "Maybe that's a blessing in disguise." "If it's a blessing, then why did Lux Carlos approach you to recruit me?" Mulder retorted. <> Years ago, before the mysterious informant X was killed in Mulder's apartment, Starkweather, better know as Senior Airman Bailey back then, had been dating Carlos. Captain Lux Rico Carlos had been a very ambitious Air Force officer. Until he learned the truth about the woman he loved. Then he threw everything away, including his relationship with her, to join the CIA to protect her. 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." "Aw Christ…" "Jerilyn, he gave everything up to protect you." "How chivalrous. And look how well I reacted." "Carlos did it wrong," Mulder closed his eyes. "He just left. He did not explain. He just disappeared. If he would have told you what was going on…" "I would have thought he was insane." Bravo shook her head. "It's a Catch-22." "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." "Simply. Huh. Your choice of words astound me." "Listen to me Jerilyn. I lost Samantha," he said vehemently. "I lost my mother. I lost the man I thought was my father…" <> Bravo thought, now shocked. She thought was in the know about everything. 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." "How do you know you're not being manipulated by the CIA?" "Touché." "Well, it's the truth," Bravo said irritably. "Mulder… you just can't trust anyone anymore…" "I trust Carlos," Mulder said. "So did I," Bravo said acidly. "I didn't come here to argue with you." "But we always argue." "Let's make an exception to the rule. I need your help, Jerilyn. We need your help. Before it's too late." "Too late? For Reyes' sister?" "Not just Reyes' sister. Jerilyn… there's more bad news." "Why do I feel like the proverbial jinx?" "It's your stepmother." "Jenny? Now what did she do?" "She was… kidnapped." "Kid… whoa. Wait a minute!" Bravo did an exceptional job of working herself into Starkweatheresque agitation. "When the hell did THAT happen? Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?" "I just told you." "WHEN did this happen?" "I didn't think you cared for the Senator anymore." "Just because she's a treacherous bitch didn't mean I wanted her to get hurt." "Jerilyn, Carlos asked me to wait a little bit before telling you." "CARLOS? Once again, HE'S dictating how my life should go???" Once again, Bravo gloated on how easy it was to play Starkweather. All you had to do was rave like a Femi-Nazi lunatic. "Why the hell-" "Because he thought that he would be able to have your stepmother recovered by this morning. Unfortunately… unfortunately they lost your stepmother's trail. Carlos suspects a mole in the CIA." "The CIA LOST my stepmother. These were the guys that we depended on to win the Cold War against the Commies and they LOST my stepmother!!!!" "Jerilyn, I'm sorr-" "So am I!" Bravo spat at him. "I'm sorry I left Minneapolis. I'm sorry I stepped foot in the X-Files. I'm sorry I ever found out you're my brother." Bravo expected Mulder to rise to her bait. "Going back to your 'Ignorance is bliss' credo?" he asked calmly before taking another bite of a chicken strip. 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." "But the X-Files," he reminded her, still calm. "Didn't get the Admiral killed." When Bravo couldn't think of a proper response, Mulder added, "Plus things with you and Ben weren't exactly rosy anyway." "Because of the X-Files." "Because you were an FBI agent." "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-" "And we're back to the fairy tale of the noble instructor." 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." "Bullshit." "Fuck you!" Bravo longed to reach over the table and snap his neck. "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Fox Mulder! Not everyone feels the same way as you do. Not everyone sees their jobs as a crusade." "You can look me in the eye and tell me, after everything. After all you've seen and experienced, you can honestly turn your back on the X-Files?" Bravo stayed quiet for a moment. <> she thought as the waitress returned with their food. After she left them alone again, Bravo said "I will help you find Reyes' sister. But after that, I am requesting a transfer to Quantico. I'm tired Mulder. I don't know what just happened to me. One minute, I'm on a plane, ready to go and get Doggett out of Russia. The next minute, I'm lying in an alley. Cold, wet, all my personal shit and clothes gone. And I find out that Doggett was never in Russia and I had been missing for almost two fucking months. It is enough. My kidnapping was a wake-up call. I need to get out of this shit. I need… I need a life. I need a normal life," she injected some real desperation into her voice. "I liked being married. I loved Ben… granted, I'm not wild about the kid thing. But that's right now. I deserved a chance to decide whether or not I wanted to have babies with Ben… or with some other man. And I deserved a chance to grow old and fat with Ben." "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." <> Bravo thought triumphantly. <> She closed her eyes. "What do you want from me, Mulder? I don't have very much left in me to give." "Just the truth," he said quietly. "The truth?" "Tell me about your abduction." "Jesus… Mulder…" "Jerilyn. Please." Bravo shredded a napkin as she proceeded to tell Mulder her pretty lies. *** 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?" Reyes snapped out of her reverie. Sitting next to her and driving down the highway, past the ancient redwoods, was Agent Santiago Allende. 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…" Reyes tried to get a feel for her surroundings, tried to sense what kind of energy would be permeating from those august trees. She only felt tired, drained. 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?" "This is a very old story, Monica," her grandmother had said, hugging her tight as Jaime, Vanessa and Teresa gathered at her feet. "This is from the Mayans, a proud people. Part of my heritage… and maybe yours. Once there was a gentleman jaguar and a lady skunk. Señora Skunk had a son, who was baptized by Señor Jaguar. So Señora Senora Skunk became his comadre…" "Monica?" Reyes opened her eyes at the sound of her friend's voice. "Yes?" "We're here," Doggett said gravely as the car rolled to a stop. 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." "Did you receive the fax from our office in DC?" Doggett asked, all business now. "On Rohrer." "Uh… yeah, I did." Malford turned back to his task force. "Alright, you know what to do. Let's do this right. Let's find Miss Reyes and get her home." As the task team trooped out of the tent, Malford leaned against the decrepit card table that was being used to support a sleek notebook computer, a printer and a small fax machine as well as other technical equipment. "Yeah… I got it, and Agent Doggett, may I be frank?" "If you wanna," Doggett said. "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." "We know that from the Disneyland incident," Malford replied. "But a…" now he snickered. "A Super Soldier? Please…" "Agent Malford, with all due respect," Reyes spoke up. "But we have documentation of experimentation with human DNA in hopes of creating a superior being capable of great feats of strength and acts of violence." "I told them that Knowles Rohrer is a former CIA agent wanted on charges of treason. The CIA, along with some other government agencies, is a little pissed at this man. Including Interpol, believe it or not." Doggett nodded while thinking <> CIA agent Lux Carlos must have some serious maneuvering to get Rohrer on every Top Ten list on the globe. "If Rohrer is an international threat," Reyes asked quietly. "Then why do you feel he took my sister?" "Because of your sister's stance with human rights," Malford responded silkily. "She was very vocal about the human rights violations abroad, especially in Afghanistan. She was lobbying for Congress to take action against the Taliban before the September Eleventh tragedy." He bowed his head. "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." "Agent Reyes," Malford tried to reason with her. "I understand that you and Agent Doggett handle the cases that deal with… extreme circumstances. But I assure you, this fairy-tale," he shook the smudged copy of Doggett's report which meticulously detailed Rohrer's betrayal. "Is not the reason why he took your sister." He crumpled the fax and dropped it on the ground. "Our best profiler is studying the case right now and he firmly believes that this a political statement." "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." "He did betray us," Reyes agreed. "But not in the way you think. I don't believe that this has anything to do with Nine-Eleven. To imply that insults the memory of those who died that day." Reyes looked up at Doggett. Doggett had his hands in his pockets and was looking at the ground. Many of his friends from the NYPD, including his best friend, Officer Jason Mick, had been killed that day. 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?" As Reyes opened her mouth to answer, a voice yelled out. "Agent Malford! Agent Malford." A young face, a fresh graduate from Quantico named Patrick Benchly poked his head in. "We found something," he said, out of breath. "You better come with." Malford looked at Allende, Doggett and Reyes. "Vests and headgear are SOP," he said to them crisply as he began to walk out of the tent. "Helmets and vests won't save your ass if Rohrer decides to go after you," Doggett muttered. 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?" "You've heard of 'em?" "I loved the movie." Doggett rolled his eyes. "I hate Gary Shandling," he muttered. "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. <> Doggett thought glumly as he followed Allende and Reyes out the tent <> Despite Skinner's promises, the A.D's seat looked farther and farther away. 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 The elevator doors slid open. Bravo walked out, pushing a stray blond lock out of her face. 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. <> 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?" Scully wearily sat down at her desk. Her eyes strayed to the photograph of William's christening. Mulder was holding the baby up high as Scully looked on; William looking deceptively feminine in his baptismal gown. As she touched the picture frame's glass with her pointer finger, she asked "Mulder told you then." "Yes." "Jerilyn, I'm sorry." Bravo shrugged. "It's just one more thing." "I wasn't sure if you could bear one more thing." "I'm not as wimpy as I look." "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." "There's not?" Bravo said in real surprise. Scully shook her head. "Not here anyway," she murmured. Now Scully held Bravo's full attention. "Where are…?" But Scully shook her head. "That I can not disclose. Not even to you. I'm sorry," Scully said, crouching down to the 'R' section of the filing cabinet and opening the drawer. 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?" "Oh, other than the fact that he waited until NOW to tell me about my stepmother and the fact that he's pushing me to stay in the X-Files… super." Scully frowned. "Don't let him-" "Get to me. I know." "But he already has." "He's gifted in that particular department." Bravo looked up. "Can I take these with me? I can read pretty fast, but there's a lot of information in here and I don't think I'm going to get it all finished this afternoon." Scully turned her lips down. "You know the rule Jerilyn. No original X-File leaves this office." Bravo mustered up all the charm she had to offer. "Aw, Scully… come on… it's me." "I'll make some copies." "Jesus, Scully, you're not a receptionist. Besides it will take forever to make copies. I'll bring them back first thing. Scout's honor." She made the Peace Sign with her left hand. "You were never in Girl Scouts, were you?" "I wasn't in one place long enough to be in Girl Scouts. Besides, I hate their cookies." "Liar, you ate all of my stash I had hidden here." "Why DID you hide Girl Scout cookies here?" "I had to keep them from Mulder." "So that's why he got pudgy." "He's not THAT pudgy," Scully said defensively. "Just a little more of him to love, I suppose," Bravo teased while thinking <> 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." Scully relented. "Don't tell Mulder." "I'm not currently speaking to Mulder at this point." "Jerilyn… don't be like that… you've… you've just gotten back. Mulder means well. You're the only family he has left now." "That's not true and you know it," Bravo said quietly. "He has William. And you. What you're trying to tell me nicely is that he is the only family **I** have right now." When Scully didn't respond, Bravo said. "Look, whatever is with me and Mulder is secondary right now, okay? I just want to get Teresa Reyes back." ** A little later… 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?" "A box, sir," a young National Guardsmen, resplendent in fatigues told him breathlessly. "Sir, it does not seem to contain explosives, but we've alerted a bomb squad as an added precaution, sir." "Good job, thank you," Allende said softly, moving in front of Malford. "Please describe this box. Why is it arousing suspicion?" "It is addressed to an Agent Monica Reyes, sir." "And?" The Guardsman looked over at Doggett and Reyes, standing behind Allende and Malford. "Is that… Agent Reyes, sir?" "It is." The Guardsman took a breath. "Sir, with all due respect, I would prefer to continue describing the box in confidence, sir." "No!" Reyes cried out, shoving Doggett and Malford aside as she ran to the young airman. "No, you will continue to describe the box with me right here!" "Agent Reyes," Allende said, "please." He then turned to the Guardsman. "Sir if you could be so kind…" As Allende and the Guardsman walked away, Reyes tried to follow, but was stopped by Doggett. "Monica, don't," he pleaded with her. "Stay here." Doggett walked to the two men. "Alright," he said, rudely butting in. "If it's something traumatic, at least tell me. She and I go way back. She's a good friend and if it's bad news, I wanna be the one to break it to her." Allende looked at the Guardsman. "Go ahead." "Sir," the Guardsman was very pale. Doggett realized that he was just a kid. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Still, his professionalism was notable and Doggett, a retired military man himself, appreciated that. "The box is also covered with blood. LAPD forensics is taking samples right now. Then they're going to hand it over to FBI. We are still canvassing the forest for the suspect, Knowles Rohrer, but so far, no luck." Doggett closed his eyes. "Shit. How big's the box?" "Sir?" "The size of the box." "It's a shoebox, sir." "From a particular shoestore?" "From Wal-Mart, sir." "Oh, THAT narrows it down!" Doggett grouched. "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." Allende almost smiled. "Almost." Doggett's face became dour again. After thanking and dismissing the young Guardsman, Doggett said pessimistically, "Lot's of different body parts can fit in a shoebox." Allende grimaced. "I had hoped you wouldn't have thought of that. Reminded me of one of my first cases." He looked at the ground, kicking at a tuft of grass. "What's that?" "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." "How'd you catch him?" Allende looked up at him. "We didn't." 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." "And are you Tonto to this Lone Ranger?" she smiled again. "No'm, I'm from DC. I work with Agent Monica Reyes." She became serious instantly. "Sorry for the facetiousness," she said. "Black humor. You have to be a smart ass to survive in this profession. My name is Detective Alice Lyoness. I work forensics for the LAPD. I kind of got drafted into the war. If you gentlemen will follow me, I can tell you what we've scraped together so far." As the men trailed her, she asked them "Is Agent Reyes here?" "Yes," Doggett answered. "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." "Jesus," a short, bald man with ebony skin approached them, bitching in an accent that Doggett instantly recognized as New York. "I just got done talking to the cops." "Well, now you can talk to the feds. Howie, feds. Feds, this is my partner Detective Howard Matthews. He hails from a delightful little province known as The Bronx." "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?" "That's Agent Allende and that's Agent Doggett," Lyoness pointed at each agent. "Doggett talks just as funny as you do, only he's from a more Southern region, I think." "Oh yeah?" Matthews asked "Where dat? Long Island?" "Georgia." Doggett responded, bracing himself for the instant stereotyping that his drawling voice invited. "Well, Southern boy, as long as you left your pointy hat and white robes at home, youse okay." "I only bring those out for special occasions." "Oh yeah? What's that?" "Halloween." 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." "My name is Santiago. You may call me Agent Allende," Allende said politely but coldly. "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." "Sister," Doggett said, feeling impatient. "Teresa Reyes is Monica Reyes' sister. Monica and I work together. In DC." "No kiddin'? Huh. Alice here wants to get to Quantico. Become a fed. Leave all this glamour behind." "What does the letter say?" Allende asked again. "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." "What about the blood?" Doggett asked. "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." Doggett looked over his shoulder. He could see Reyes arguing with Malford. "We ain't got time to wait for the bomb squad." "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 long enough to pull on a pair of latex gloves. Picking up the scalpel again, he took a deep breath before cutting through the duct tape that sealed the lid to the box. 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?" "Dr. Fix," Mathers showed her ID again. "I'm here to check up on the girl." Dr. Fix allowed her inside. "Agent Mathers," she said, putting her hands on her chubby hips. "Again, I feel the need to strenuously protest the treatment of this child. She needs to be in a hospital." "And your concerns will be noted again, Dr. Fix as we will again remind you that this child is being hunted. If she is put into a public hospital setting, she could be abducted again… or worse…" Mathers pulled up a chair so she could sit next to the girl. "Hi Rowan," she said gently. 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." "We put her in a hospital, she'll die there too!" Mathers fired back, but then looked down at her. "Has a diagnosis been made?" "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." "Cancer…" Mathers murmured. 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." "Thank you," Dr. Fix accepted the bag. "But this isn't what Rowan needs." "What DOES Rowan need, exactly?" "Her mother," Dr. Fix said grimly. ** 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…" As Maggie gathered William into her arms, a white car parallel parked behind them. William began to cry. "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!" "That's okay," Bravo lied. "What brings you here?" "Oh," Bravo said. "I was going to drop off some files for Scully." She held up the preliminary report of Teresa Reyes abduction she had borrowed the night before. "I forgot to give them back to her when I saw her today." "Come on up," Maggie smiled at her. "I can make us a cup of tea." "That would be great," Bravo said while thinking <> William continued to scream as the women entered Scully's apartment. "I think somebody needs a nap," Maggie said. "What do you think William?" William just continued to howl as he pointed at Bravo. "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." "Take your time," Bravo said as she sat down on the sofa. She looked around the apartment, musing to herself <> "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." Maggie felt her eyes misting. "My poor dear," she said in the same sympathetic tone she had used with William. "You've been through so much." Bravo shrugged. "I'm okay, Mrs. Scully, really." 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…" As Mrs. Scully went into the kitchen to start a kettle boiling, Bravo made her way down to William's nursery. As she opened the door, William began screaming even louder, his little face turning purple. "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?" "No," Bravo said hoarsely. "Maggie… I'm sorry, I don't feel so good all of a sudden. I think I'm gonna go home. I'm sorry…" Bravo turned to leave. "Should I call Dana?" "NO!" Bravo cried. "No… please… don't worry her anymore than she needs to be… she's got enough going on right now… I… I just feel… very tired. Good-bye." Bravo fairly fled the apartment. Maggie went to the phone and dialed. "Scully." "Dana, it's Mom." "Mom? What's going on?" Scully looked up from her computer. She was getting ready to open an email from an Agent Santiago Allende from the Los Angeles Field Office. "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." "Why, what's wrong?" "Well, she said she was here to drop off something you loaned her… William was fussy so she went to see if she could calm him down and all of a sudden, she said that she felt sick and had to go home." Scully felt her stomach plummet into her feet. "Did she say what was the matter?" "No. She just said she didn't feel well. She said she was very tired and wanted to go home. She was very pale." 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." "Tell them that," Scully muttered. "I gotta go Mom. I need to call Mulder." "And are you ever going to call him by his first name?" Scully smiled. "He hates his first name. He made his parents call him Mulder." "I love you, baby." "I love you too Mom." Scully hung up the phone. Looked at her computer. "Damn," she muttered guiltily as she dialed Mulder's number. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." "Scully." "Mulder, when are you leaving work today?" "I don't know, why? Need me to pick up some Tampons?" "No. I need you to check on Jerilyn." "God, I'd rather pick up some Tampons." "Mulder. I'm serious." "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?" "I dunno… Scully…" "Yeah?" "I'll call you back." Mulder abruptly hung up on her and pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "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. She closed her eyes. **No, please, don't…** ***"Where do I put this fire?"*** **You prefer to be a martyr?** ***"This bright red feeling?*** **"Before all this… I thought it was you."** ***"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?" "We got the findings of the tape." "And?" "This guy," Allende said, "is clever. Very clever. No prints. No saliva. No hair. Nothing." "The blood?" Reyes forced her voice to be calm. Doggett cleared his throat. "He's fucking with us Mon. That wasn't blood. Looked like it, but wasn't it." "What was it?" "Chocolate syrup," Allende said. "What?" Reyes said flatly. "You have got to be kidding me." Allende shook his head. "Old theatrical trick. For the best fake blood, take some chocolate syrup and add red food coloring. Not only does it have the same color as blood, but the same texture. You forget, Agent Reyes. This is Tinsel Town. Nothing is as it seems." "Was there anything on the tape?" Reyes asked. "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." "I'm sorry," Teresa snuffled. Wiping her eyes, she continued. "The first thing is… um… is…" "Hurry up." The voice was cold and menacing. "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." "But his supervisor, Kersh," Reyes sobbed. "He won't go for it. H-h-he's… h-h-he's…" "Skinner said you may express concern about Deputy Director Kersh's reaction and Skinner said he would handle this personally." Reyes took that as a sign of hope. Skinner, going to bat for her. He was either going to try and reason with Kersh and hope to God Kersh didn't turn traitor. Or, Skinner was going to lie his ass off, have Kersh's signature forged and hope to God Kersh didn't find out. Either way, most of this depended on Skinner and God. "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." Reyes nodded. "Just tell me what to do," she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands like a child. "Just tell me what to do." "For today, go back to the hotel and rest. We will call. Agent Doggett? A word?" "In a minute," Doggett mumbled. 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…" "Hang in there Mon," he said, squeezing her hand. "You can't give up." "I just don't know what to tell my parents. Mom and Dad aren't going to buy our happy FBI bullshit." "I can talk to 'em if you want me too," Doggett said gently. "Tell 'em what's going on." "I don't mean to pass the buck." "Mon, you look like you're gonna pass out. Not pass the buck." He squeezed her hand again. "Monica, you and me, we go back a long time now. You've always been there for me when things got rough. It's my turn now, okay?" Reyes nodded. "I'm going to go back to the hotel now." "I'll see you there. I gotta talk to Allende 'bout something. Then I'm headin' that way m'self." "Okay." "Call if you need anything." "I will, thank you," Reyes stood up and tucked the Kleenex into her pocket. 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?" "None. And it's pissing me off. I've got Bunny trying to figure out who the mole in the CIA is but…" "No luck?" "Not yet?" "What about Joshi? You suspected him before." "We're investigating Joshi," Carlos said quietly. "So far he seems to be on the up and up." "He trained you." "He trained me to trust no one." "You trust me." "In some respects." "Not in others?" Carlos eyed Mulder's tie. "Not your fashion sense anyway. Where in the hell did you get that tie?" "We have another to add to our list of suspects." "Who's that?" "Agent Starkweather." Carlos stopped dead in his tracks. "You have got to be shitting me." "She's not acting like herself, Carlos. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she's a different person." "But?" "The scars. Jerilyn was scarred terribly as an infant because of the testing they performed on her. She has a scar down her sternum and on her stomach. Plus one on the back of her neck. Also, she has a scar on her forehead. From the first X-File she worked on. She smashed her head on something during an emergency landing in Rome." "And she has this scarring?" "Yes. Scully confirmed it for me. Jerilyn wouldn't let any other doctor but Scully examine her and Scully documented that she did indeed have all appropriate scarring." "So why?" "Do I suspect her?" Mulder sighed. "I don't think she's acting out of her free will. I think… well… she and I had lunch today and we got into a fight about the X-Files." "Oh?" "She wants to quit." Carlos scratched his goatee. "So she says." "So she says." Mulder pretended to consult his Smithsonian Institute map. "I think she's been re-programmed. I think… I believe the Syndicate did something to her. Altered her mind." "How?" "How? How the hell do I know? We've only scratched the surface of what the Syndicate is capable. Hell… there's still a big chunk of my memory missing from a case Scully worked on back in Ninety-Three… a U.S. Military test pilot disappears. We were contacted by his wife to find him. Well, he miraculously reappears and claims he's fine, but I was still suspicious." "Surprise," Carlos rolled his eyes. "So who did you piss off?" "I don't know." "Come again?" "I don't know, Carlos. I remember sneaking onto the Air Base at night. I remember bright lights. Then I remember being released from the Air Base in the daytime. Scully came to get me. I have no idea what happened to me during that missing span of time." "You think your memory was altered?" "I KNOW my memory was altered, Carlos. I know I saw something very important, something I was not supposed to see. And they took it away from me." "So…" Carlos murmured. "You think someone went in and messed with Jerilyn's mind while she was MIA?" "They had to have. She's just… Carlos, I can't explain it. It's like an actress hired to play the role of Starkweather. And she's doing a phenomenal job." "So what's tipping you 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?" "Her cat." "Her cat??" "He attacked her." "If memory serves, that cat is evil and attacks everyone. Bit Doggett on several occasions," a dreamy expression crossed Carlos' face. "Good kitty." "We perceive the cat as evil," Mulder said, "because we don't like cats." "**I** like cats!" Carlos protested. "Just not THAT cat." "My point is this, despite what people believe, I think animals do possess some sort of memory. Not cognitive like you or me. But I believe they retain the familiarity of scent and action. Jerilyn may smell different to the cat and may be acting different from how he remembers. Because she is unfamiliar, the cat attacks. And you mention that Caesar has attacked Doggett. This is true. And funny as hell. However, Caesar hasn't bitten or scratched Doggett lately because Doggett is now familiar to the cat. Again, since Jerilyn may have different odors due to her experiences that are not detectable to our senses but to the feline and may be acting erratically. Being emotional and such, the animal, confused, may very well be prompted to attack." "'When Good Pets Go Bad' only on FOX," Carlos sighed. Then he said, "Makes sense though. I'll run that past one of our animal specialists. See what they think." "Also, I received a disturbing phone call from Scully." "And?" "Jerilyn was at Scully's apartment, visiting Maggie and William. All of a sudden, she said she felt unwell, very fatigued and wanted to go home. By Scully's edict, I am to go and check on her later today." "Hm…" That perked Carlos' attention. "But the exams and the lab work came back okay?" "So clean that it squeaks." "Hm…" Carlos was lost in thought. "Missing for two months, and she's healthy as a horse." "Not even a scratch." "She was returned to us for a purpose." "What purpose?" "I don't know. Think Jerilyn knows?" 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?" "Worth a shot." "If you can get the girl to consent, more power to you." "I know," Mulder said miserably. "I think I'd rather pole dance on a cactus to try and talk her into a regression session, but… dammit, Carlos, there's something wrong with her. My gut is telling me that this is not Jerilyn." "You think it's an imposter maybe?" Carlos voiced the unimaginable. "She does have those delightful duplicates out there." Mulder shook his head. "Bravo is dead. Charlie is dead. Alpha is in exile. Samita Saint-Claire and her children are in hiding. Plus, not only was the scarring right on, but the blood type, the DNA markers, fingerprints. Everything. It's Starkweather." Carlos nodded again. "Okay. Tell you what. Make sure your will is current, then tell her she's going in for a regression session. No ifs ands or buts. Meanwhile, get your boys to make a few redecorations to Mrs. Starkweather's apartment if you know what I mean. If she's being controlled from an outside source, I want eyes and ears on her." "What about you? What are you going to do?" "Work on that little mole problem. If there's a traitor within the CIA and Starkweather was 'reprogrammed' as you put it and returned to us to complete some sort of 'mission'… I bet you Fort Knox that he will contact her." "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." Caesar crossed his front paws and twitched his tail, purring. "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." "Come in," came the calm reply. 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." Doggett put the CDs down and hit the off button. "My mother would love you," he told Allende as he sat down. "She loves all that old timey music." "So did my grandmother," Allende smiled. "She was a very artistic soul. She did that painting behind you." Doggett turned around, hoping to see something of significance in the painting now that he knew it was by a loved one. It still looked like gobs of paint thrown on a canvass. "It's nice," he lied politely. "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." "Was?" "She passed away about two years ago." "I'm sorry." Allende smiled. "Don't be. She had a good life." He sighed. "But anyway, back to business." "Yeah…" Doggett leaned forward. "What did you need to talk to me 'bout?" "Rowan Falsch." Doggett nodded. "Yeah?" "She is a very sick little girl. That was one of the lab techs at the Children's Hospital. We sent a blind sample to them to analyze. Agent Doggett… I know Rohrer is dangerous. And…" he picked up a crumpled piece of paper up from off his desk and handed it to him. Doggett recognized it as the fax Malford had contemptuously thrown on the ground at the forest. "I sent an email to an Agent Scully asking him-" "Her," Doggett corrected him. "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." "And?" "She sent me a message back stating she could not fax me a copy of that file at this time due to security measures, however, she did write up a synopsis of that case and she did send me an attachment of a two separate personality profiles on Rohrer. One was completed by an Agent Mulder, dated May 22, 2001. And the other completed by an Agent Starkweather, dated January 15, 2002." "Did you read them?" "Yes I did." "So how insane do you think we are?" Allende leaned back in his chair, made a steeple with his fingers. "If we did not have several eyewitness accounts of Rohrer throwing the child into the lagoon at Disneyland, the bodies of the people Rohrer broke their necks with his bare hands laying in an autopsy bay plus his ferocious psychological attack on Agent Reyes through the use of her sister… I would be calling for the guys in the white coats to take you all away." Doggett nodded. "I don't necessarily believe the alien sci- fi bullshit m'self." "Yes, Agent Scully made that quite clear in her email. Also Agent Starkweather made it clear while she didn't discount the existence of extraterrestrials; she does not believe that the UFO phenomenon applied to Rohrer." "But Mulder did?" "Mulder's name has a long reach," Allende grinned. "Remember the movie they made about him. "The Lazarus Cup."? Everyone in our field office went to the premiere." "That movie sucked." "Tea Leoni hugged me and she gave me an autograph too." "Lucky," Doggett grumbled. "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?" "So, thanks to the information provided by Agent Scully, I have a better picture of what we're up against." Allende looked up at the clock. "It's five o'clock somewhere right?" Allende had a half smile on his lips. Doggett almost smiled himself. "Yeah… probably." "Lock my door," Allende said as he bent down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. While Doggett got up to lock the door, Allende had pulled out a bottle of Bacardi rum and two coffee mugs and began pouring. "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 a big gulp out of his mug. "You don't strike me as a rum man." "I'm not normally… I'm more of a beer an' whiskey kinda guy," Doggett took a swig from his mug. 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." "I know," Doggett said. "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." "I don't know," Doggett said. "All I know is we gotta get Teresa Reyes away from 'im." "Agreed," Allende said. "Agreed. The only problem is how. Our forensic team is batting zero and even Lyoness and Matthews are getting zip. Today was the first time I ever met them, but I had heard of them before. They're weird, but they are the best. The dream team of the LAPD. Especially when it comes to sex crimes and the like." "Do you think it's possible to send a copy of that video to my office in DC?" "Sure, but why?" "The X-Files Division has a little "dream team" too. I can get Scully to forward it to them." "You guys know someone better than Lyoness and Matthews?" Allende said doubtfully. A smile tugged at Doggett's lips. "Dollars to doughnuts, their kung-fu can beat Lyoness and Matthews." Allende replenished his mug and Doggett's. "You're a strange man, Agent Doggett." "No. Actually, I'm very normal. I just have a strange job." "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." "Like I said earlier, we sent in blind specimens to the Children's Hospital." "And?" "I understand the importance of keeping her safe from Rohrer. Especially after reading the profiles and the synopsis from Agents Mulder and Starkweather. However, Rowan is a very sick little girl." "The anemia. What is it a symptom of?" "The girl is crawling with cancer." "Oh my God." "She needs to be in a hospital." "We put her in a hospital, she's a sitting duck for Rohrer," Doggett said. Allende countered, "We don't put her in a hospital, and she'll be dead." Doggett rubbed his face. "Jesus." "I know… from the frying pan…" "Into the fire," Doggett finished his drink. "I think it is an act of great stupidity if we put Rowan in a hospital." "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." "Unfortunately yes." "Dammit," Doggett said. "Are ya lookin' for my advice, Allende?" "Yes," Allende said. "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." "Her real parents may be in California." "And when she gets better, we can sure bring her back to her parents in California IF her parents really ARE in California," Doggett set the mug down on Allende's desk. "You asked for my advice. That's how I would handle it if I was agent of record." Allende finished his drink as well. "If Rowan's condition stays stable, that will dictate the course of action I choose. However, if she starts to spiral down the drain…" "You do what you gotta do," Doggett stood up. "I gotta get goin'. I wanna check and see how the Reyes family is doing. And Monica." Allende nodded. "Here," he held out a pack of Juicy Fruit gum. "Instant breath freshener." Doggett shook his head. "Feel like I'm in high school again," he said as he unwrapped the shiny foil wrapper. "I'll call you and Reyes if anything else develops." "Get that tape to Agent Scully as soon as possible." "What should I tell her?" "I'd call her and tell her what that tape contains and tell her to forward it on to the Lone Gunmen. She'll know what you mean." ** 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." "You would hit a guy with glasses," Frohike griped Just then, Langly burst through the door. "Hey guys!" he announced as he took off his coat. "I went to the used CD shop and sold all my CDs. Good thing I burned copies of the ones I REALLY wanted to keep, but anyway, I got over two hundred dollars for everything plus I got another two hundred for the speakers." Langly kept babbling despite Byers' frantic waving and pointing at Mulder and Frohike slashing his finger across his own throat as a signal to Langly. "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." Langly looked at his Converse shoes. Byers became very focused on picking up his dropped equipment and Frohike re- opened his Excel spread sheet. "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." "Gone?" Mulder remembered the pretty girl with the British accent, razor sharp wit and long dark hair who, along with Jimmy Bond, an affable dunderhead, occasionally helped out the Gunmen. "What do you mean gone?" "We think she was abducted." "Aliens?" Mulder instantly burst out. "Worse," Frohike responded, not even turning around. "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." The Gunmen looked at each other. "Mulder… we appreciate it, we really do…" Byers told him. "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. Mulder nodded his head, understanding. "I can still help," he said. "The FBI still owes me a couple of consultation fees. I'll put a bug in Skinner's ear to cut through the red tape and get that money to me." "No," Frohike said forcibly. "You can't say no," Mulder said. "They owe me at least two thousand dollars." "We will not take your money," Byers said. "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." "But you've helped me with mine." "The best way for you to help us," Byers said kindly, "is to stay out of it, Mulder." "We're gonna be pissin' off lots of people," Langly said. "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, no." Frohike was firm. "We will not take your money. You're a friend. We don't take money from friends. And we won't let you jeopardize Scully's position in the FBI or your freedom to get federal funds to us. Remember. We're hackers. What we do is a felony." Mulder opened his mouth, then shut it again. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "Guys… I'm really sorry." "We know," Frohike said. "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." "Okay," Mulder said weakly, feeling like he was bitten to death by a butterfly. These three homely, nerdy crusaders had beaten Fox Mulder into submission. "Okay." "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." "Thank you," Mulder said, turning to leave. He paused at the door. "Good luck," he said softly. "I hope you find her." "So do we," Frohike said, swallowing hard. "So do we." ** 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." Raquel Reyes was a short, round woman with curly hair. By no means was she obese, just round and curvy in all the right places. Plump and cute. She had just begun to put on more weight in the past few years, stating that she was too old to battle a few extra pounds. The weight went straight to her hips, breasts and cheeks. Her raven black curls were now streaked with silver. She also gave up battling her fading hair. 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…" "What?" Raquel entered the room and put the tray down on the little table near the door. "You think that starving yourself is going to bring Teri back faster? Now, sit. Eat. And talk to me," she ordered her daughter in her heavily accented English. 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." "It IS my fault, Mother!" Reyes finally burst out. "It is my fault. They're using Teri to get back at me!" "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." "I can't tell you… I shouldn't have said anything in the first place." "Why? Afraid they're going to take me like they did Teresa?" "Yes," Reyes admitted. 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." "You think he's lying?" "I know he's lying." "And this imposter…" "Mom, I can't explain it. I can just feel it, that's not Jerilyn. This is all happening because They figured out that I know that is not Jerilyn." Raquel was lost in thought. "Have you told your friend? John Doggett?" Reyes shook her head. "He won't believe me." "You mean he won't want to believe you. There's a difference, mi pequeñita." When Reyes did not respond, Raquel sighed and clutched her daughter's hand tighter. "Monica, you must tell him." "What if I'm wrong?" "What if you're right?" ** 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?" "Mulder." "Hold on!" Bravo yelled. "I'm naked." 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. "Now what?" "My God, Jerilyn… what happened?" Mulder reached out to examine her bruised face. Bravo batted his hand away. "It looks worse that what it really is." "What happened?" "Cat Attack Number Two. What did you guys do? Brainwash him while I was gone?" Her words struck a deep chord with Mulder. "Jerilyn, Scully asked me to check on you." "Why?" "She said her mother called. That you weren't feeling well." "GOD! I am not… Look, I feel FINE. I'm just tired. And my face hurts." "I just wanted to be sure," Mulder said, "that you were okay." "I am okay, just… just tired. Very tired." "Can I come in?" Bravo sighed and moved aside so Mulder could enter. "I've told you everything that I can remember," she told him, shutting the door behind him. "Please, Mulder, I just want to rebuild my life… I'm…. I'm so fucked up right now. I just… I… I don't know up from down. I just need some time. Hell, I don't even know if I want to be in the FBI anymore." She leaned against her front door. 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?" "What about it?" Bravo stared at him for a second before catching onto what he was asking about. "NO." "Jerilyn…" "Fuck no. Mulder… don't." "Before you demonstrate your fluency in vulgar obscenities, hear me out little sister." "Half-sister." "Minor detail," Mulder said mildly. 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?" "Starting now," Bravo glanced at the little clock on one of the windowsills. "Four minutes… fifty-seven seconds." Mulder pulled a bag of sunflower seeds out of his coat pocket. He held them up to Bravo. "Want some?" "No. Four minutes, fifty-three seconds. Tick tock. Tick tock, Mulder." "Time," Mulder mused. "I don't understand time. All the times that were so good, so wonderful, the moments that I wanted to last forever, ended in a blink of an eye. The times that were… are bad… seem to drag for eternity. I thought I was cursed, a tragic hero per se… doomed from the moment the bright lights came and bore my sister away, to have my life divided up as such. Seconds of joy, decades of despair." <> Bravo inwardly groaned to herself. <> Out loud, she replied "'Seconds of joy?' Gag. Sell your drivel to Hallmark, buddy boy, 'cause I ain't buying." "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." "I don't have a nice side." "That's not true and you know it and I know it. I've seen 'the softer side' and I'm not talking about Sears. I'm talking about the woman who plays with my son. Who mourned her husband. Who tried to protect Charlie from herself. Who believes in her partner and risked her own life to save him when everyone else gave up hope." <> Bravo said to herself caustically as she pretended to be embarrassed by Mulder's words. <> To Mulder, she said "Well… don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold." "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." "And it's the mother hen that protects the eggs. Until someone steals them away and smashes them." Mulder shook a handful of seeds into his hands. "I don't want you smashed Jerilyn. There's a difference between a broken heart and an obliterated one." "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." "My day job," Mulder snorted. "Chasing monsters is not exactly a dream day job." "Then why do it?" Bravo asked him. "Someone has to." "Why you?" "Why not," Mulder shrugged. "I have no answers. I don't know why I look to the skies for answers. But they are out there… and you brought them here. The answer to everything, everything that Scully and I have fought for and nearly died for… is within you, Jerilyn." <> Bravo thought as she stared at Mulder, pretending to be contemplating his words. <> "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?" "I will be there. The entire time. Scully too, if you want her to be." Bravo mulled that over. "Where though?" she added a tremor to her voice. "I don't want to go to a hospital." "Why?" Instantly Mulder was alert. Why wouldn't a medically trained doctor who specialized in forensics for the FBI be leery of hospitals. 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." The wheels in Bravo's deadly mind were turning. "Or maybe your place?" "If you want to." Mulder nodded. "So do you agree? Will you consent to a hypnotic regression therapy?" 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." Mulder stood up as well. "Alright," he said. "Think about it. And let me know." "I will. I need to kick you out now." "Call if-" "I need anything," Bravo interrupted him. "And I will. Now I need sleep. Please. Mulder. Go home." Mulder nodded, popping a seed into his mouth, then absently putting the bag of sunflowers in one coat pocket and the loose seeds in the other pocket. "Good night," he mumbled. 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." Her inbox was empty. This did not concern her. The Syndicate never sent her emails on this account. She only sent emails with this address. 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. <> "No," she said, clutching her gun. 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 ignored Malford. "Whaddya like?" "Rugby," came Allende's calm answer. Doggett looked up at the monitors again. "Shit…" "What is it?" "Someone's approaching Monica… can't make out the face tho'…" Doggett was wearing a headset-microphone so he could hear Reyes and talk to her as well. He reached up and clicked the microphone on. "Monica, there's someone comin' up from behind you. About ten feet from ya. Looks… looks like… a woman…" Reyes said "Okay," without moving her lips. She was wearing a pair of low-riding denim shorts and red tennis shoes with white socks. She also had on a loose V-necked t-shirt that concealed her wire and a huge long sleeved denim shirt that concealed her weapon. She wore sunglasses. She leaned against the railing, looking out at the tar pits, her hand casually draped just so, inches away from her Sig Sauer. "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?" "Oh my fucking God…" Doggett said, mouth going dry. "What is it?" Allende said, standing up. "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." The Honorable Senator Wesley-Bailey stood before Agent Reyes in a buttoned up mauve suit jacket, matching skirt and an ivory blouse. She had patent leather high heels on her feet and an alligator skinned handbag. Her nylons looked like silk and her makeup was flawless. "She was reported missing…" Allende said slowly. "… the day after Teresa Reyes disappeared." Doggett said grimly. "And the bitch has betrayed us before." "How?" Malford snapped. "She's a US Senator!" Doggett glared at Malford. "Maybe if you woulda read that X-File we had faxed to ya, you would know what I'm talking about. And oh yeah, she's STANDING right there! And she gave the code word Rohrer told Reyes to listen for." "Why, Senator?" Reyes demanded, hand inching towards her gun. "Why are you doing this? Teresa is innocent. How could you be involved." "Agent Reyes," the Senator said lowly. "I know you are wired. I know your partner can hear me. Please listen to me. I am just as much a victim as you are. As your sister. As my daughter, Lilly." "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." Tears stood out in the Senator's eyes. "Don't! Do that and we'll all die." "You're bluffing." The Senator put her hand bag on the ground and unbuttoned her coat. "No," she whispered. "I'm not." "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…" Inside the surveillance van, while a white-faced Malford was instructing the agents to back off, Doggett forced his voice to stay calm and strong as he told Reyes. "Mon, just do as she says. Rohrer's got all the cards in this round. We can't afford to lose you and the Senator. Just do as she says. We'll put a tail on the Senator as she leaves. Hopefully we'll be able to catch the guy who's got 'er." 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…" Reyes looked up and started to smile. Then she screamed "John!!!! Behind you!" as she drew her weapon. 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." "I asked you to be alone, Agent Reyes, oops! I mean Miss Reyes," Rohrer said sweetly. 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." Doggett didn't move. ** 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?" "I just got off the phone with Skinner. He… um… told me that things with the Teresa Reyes case just went from bad to worse. But that's not the reason why I called. Not originally." "Well… start from the beginning." "Originally I called you because Jerilyn was mugged this afternoon." "Jerilyn??? Mugged? Is she alright?" "They beat her up a little, but she's alright… under the circumstances." Mulder put his hand to his chest. "Oh God… but she's alright, that's all that matters. Scully? Right? Isn't that all that matters?" Scully shook her head. "This wasn't a random robbery, Mulder. She was on her way here to J. Edgar…. She… Mulder, I screwed up. I… I let Jerilyn take original files out of here. She wanted to see if she could dig up some information on Rohrer that would help with the Teresa Reyes investigation and… Mulder, she was on her way here to return them and she got jumped. That's all they stole. Then her landlady called. Her apartment had been broken into. Nothing appears to be missing, but her file cabinet had been opened and all of her personal papers had been thrown everywhere and someone had hacked into her computer. Jerilyn thinks they stole the disk she had put all her notes about Rohrer on." "Oh shit," Mulder ran his hand over his face. "Which files did she have?" "The only ones we had in here about Knowles Rohrer," Scully whispered. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I knew better. I told Jerilyn I would make photocopies and she said that she would be careful…" 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?" "No. I did not." Mulder nodded as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of Scully's desk. "Where is Jerilyn now?" "She said she was going to get a hotel. I offered my place, but… she said she didn't want to invite trouble to my place, especially with William there." "I'll call her and find out what hotel she's at," Mulder said. "Then I'm going to bring her to my place. If she wants privacy, then I'll go to Georgetown and stay with you and William. But… God, Scully, I don't like her being alone. This just reaffirms my belief that something's wrong. That Starkweather was not left untainted by this experience. I just… I just feel it," Mulder put his hand on his chest again, where his one remaining scar from his own abduction experience was. "Something's not right." "She may be more willing to go through with the hypnosis." "But you disagree." "Mulder, we've been through this several times. I don't trust hypnotism. I've been hypnotized twice and nothing good came of it. Plus it's too risky. The possibilities of false memories being planted are too strong." "That's why I'll be there. And you. Maybe we'll even call Doggett to see if he can spare a little time away from LA to be there for Starkweather. Surround her with people she trusts while she undergoes the regression." "Um… Mulder… I don't think Doggett will be able to leave LA just quite yet…" "Why?" Mulder asked. "What happened." "Well," Scully took a deep breath. "That's what Skinner called me about while I was waiting for you to come so I could tell you about Jerilyn's mugging." Scully proceeded to tell Mulder about the events at the La Brea Tar Pits. When she was done, he asked "Is he alright?" "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?" "Well… the FBI is still operating under the assumption that she's alive. The vest was found a few miles away. But they lost her trail again. There were no prints or any thing that would contain a DNA marker on the second videotape either. I have been emailing the agent of record for the Teresa Reyes case. An Agent Allende. He said per Agent Doggett's instructions, he would be sending me a copy of the first tape to give to the Gunmen to analyze. To see if they can find something that they had missed. I received that tape earlier this afternoon and had already given it to Byers." "Has the LA Branch Office viewed the second video tape?" "Yes," Scully said tightly. "And?" "It's bad news." "Like any of this has been good news." "No… Mulder. What I mean to say is that it's bad news for us. For all of us. You, me, Jerilyn, John, Monica." "How?" "Mulder, the second demand is to shut down the X-Files." ** Later that night… The Holiday Inn Washington DC Bravo would have loved to stay somewhere really glamorous. However, knowing Starkweather wasn't exactly the type to throw money around, she pick somewhere in the middle. Not a hole in the wall, but not the Hilton either. Bravo was resting quietly when the knock came on the door. "Who is it?" she called out. "It's me." Bravo had been expecting Mulder to make an appearance ever since she handed the files over to Justin Leo to be destroyed ("And don't fuck this up, Leo!!" she had yelled at him) then having him punch her in the face once to give her a shiner. She had a feeling he may have enjoyed that a little too much, but she didn't trust theatrical makeup in this case. She needed the real deal. 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?" "Yes." 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. Mulder nodded. "Before I start… to tell you… I want to give you the good news first." "Okay," Bravo acted like Starkweather steeling herself for the worst possible news ever, her face frozen in an emotionless mask. "Hit me." "The good news is that Doggett is alright." <> "Doggett…" Bravo knew she had to give an Oscar Award caliber performance when it came to Doggett. Her personal distaste for the man must not show at all. It would be the one thing that would give her away. Doggett was the sun, the moon and the stars to Starkweather. 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." "He's in the hospital, but he's alright," Mulder was quick to reassure her. "He's going to a hell of a sore throat and headache for the next couple of days, but he's alright." Bravo let her crocodile tears flow. "Oh my God… when will this stop?" she sobbed. 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." "One person can't stop it by himself," Bravo whispered. "Probably not, but… one person just can't stand by and do nothing either." "No… what I'm saying is…. What I'm saying is I want to do the hypnotism." She pulled away from Mulder and looked him in the eye. "I want to do the regression hypnotism therapy." Mulder cupped her swollen face in his hands. "Jerilyn, are you sure? Are you very sure?" Jerilyn nodded. "I have to know what happened. I… I can't lose another person, Mulder. My mother. The Admiral. Ben… I can't… I'll die if someone else slips away." Mulder hugged her tight. "No one is going anywhere, Jerilyn. Not while I have anything to say about it." A cold cruel smile that Mulder couldn't see crossed Bravo's face. <> she thought, gloating to herself. <> ** Later… 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." "So are you." Doggett looked around himself. "Funny, I'm the one lyin' down." He rubbed his throat. "Is there any water here?" Reyes nodded and got up to pour him a glass. "I didn't mean for you to wait on me, Monica." "It's alright," Reyes lied. "I was thirsty too." To prove her point, she poured herself a glass of water too. "And anyway, I feel better if I personally kept an eye on you. Despite what Rohrer said, I wouldn't put it past him to try to get you again." Doggett sipped the water, wincing as he swallowed. "I'm sorry things got fucked up today." "It's not your fault," Reyes told him quietly as she watched one of the federal agents that Allende had sent over to guard Doggett during his hospital stay. "None of this is your fault John." "It's not yours either, Monica." "I think it is… I know it is." "How?" Doggett tried to sit up a bit but his bruised ribs protested. He lay back down and rolled his head over to look at Reyes. "How can any of this be your fault?" "My phone was tapped." "Your phone was tapped??" Doggett raised his head again. "Where? The hotel?" "No. My house. My apartment. When I got the call from my mother about Teri… I just happened to look down and my phone jack was crooked. I didn't have time to investigate for myself so before I left for LA, I called the Lone Gunmen on my cell. They've been so busy they didn't have a chance until today to check it out, but they confirmed that I have a tap on my line." "And what did you say that makes you think that Teri's disappearance is your fault?" "I…" Reyes looked at her hands. "I called one of my friends from New Orleans. To talk. Because I was upset." "Why were you upset?" 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." "Starkweather." Reyes lifted her head. "Yes. Starkweather. Or… actually… the person pretending to be Starkweather." Doggett rolled his head away and looked up at the ceiling. "You're right Monica. I don't wanna hear this." "That's why I called my friend Nathalique Pontier. She's a DA in New Orleans and we were very close. I needed someone to talk to. I was too afraid to talk to Dana… or you." "Monica, I would listen to you. But I need proof." "I didn't have proof at first. I just felt it. That day in Skinner's office. The minute I touched her, I knew, it wasn't her." "Her fingerprints, her blood work and her DNA came back as positive for Starkweather." "They must have switched them. John, you and I have been with the X-Files long enough, to know that anything is possible. How do we know that not a clone back in DC, posing as Starkweather?" "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." "I wasn't specific enough. There are no cloned humans." "How do you know?" "How do YOU know?" Reyes rubbed her temples. "This is way I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to argue." "Monica, look, I know you're searchin' for a reason why this is happenin'. I know how you feel. And I don't know why Rohrer is doin' this to you. And it might have something to do with Starkweather, I won't discount that, but… you don't have any proof to back up with you are saying. And I can't just believe in nothin' but faith." "You don't want to believe," Reyes said coldly. "There is a big, big difference." "Alright. I don't wanna believe," Doggett snapped. "Monica, I'm sorry, but I can't believe what you're saying." "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." "That statement is not even admissible in court. It's not enough Monica. It's not enough." "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." "I said go home, Monica," Doggett said. "Back to DC." "I'm not leaving here without Teri," Reyes said firmly. "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." "What if I make a Mulder-leap and prove to you that it's not Starkweather. That the reason why they took Teri is in hopes that I keep my suspicions to myself?" "I say, pack a parachute, 'cause you're gonna crash and burn on this one." Doggett's flippancy enraged Reyes. "I hate saying this John," she said coolly, standing up tall. "But you're wrong. You're wrong about Starkweather. And if your bullheadedness costs my sister her life… God help me, I'll take you down too." 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?" Reyes looked up. "Agent Allende. What are you doing here?" "I'm on night patrol." Allende sat down beside her. "What are you doing here?" "Being paranoid." "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." "Thank you," Reyes said. "It's my job, Agent Reyes." "No, I mean, thank you for not giving up. Other agents would have run screaming from this case long ago." Allende shrugged. "Like I said, Agent Reyes, this is my job," he said modestly. "This is what I've always wanted to do. I'm just doing all that I can, and then some." Reyes smiled. "You can call me Monica. If you like." Allende took her hand and squeezed gently once before letting it go again. "And you may call me Santiago." 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?" "To have a cigarette," she said sheepishly. "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??" "He's an assassin. With the same organization that Rohrer is with. He can't be stopped. He's dangerous… like Rohrer." Allende did not ask any questions. "You and you," he pointed at Reyes and at the other federal agent that was patrolling Doggett's door. "Stay here. You," he grabbed a different nurse, an RN with a cooler head who just happened to be passing by. "We need two patients moved out of her immediately." "Two patients??" Reyes cried. "Who else?" "Liam Sealy is here," Allende said grimly. "ICU unit, seventh floor." He pulled out a small walkie talkie as cell phones were not permitted in hospitals. "Mathers it's Allende, do you copy?" Agent Sara Mathers hadn't moved an inch from Liam Sealy's bedside. Liam was in bad shape. The shot to his belly ripped apart his stomach, his liver, and his spleen. He had sustained a massive blood loss from the other bullet wounds plus picked up a nasty infection, making him feverish. It was touch and go for the UCLA professor. Agent Mathers picked up her walkie talkie. "Copy, Allende. What's going on, boss?" "Mathers, we need to move Sealy now." Allende spoke into his walkie talkie as two nurses, Reyes and two security guards rushed into Doggett's room with a wheelchair. "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." "Where are you goin'?" Doggett yelled after her as the nurses began wheeling him away. "Dammit, Monica! Where are you going?" 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." "Mathers, talk to me," Allende said as Reyes walked out of Doggett's room. "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." "Let's go," Allende threw down the useless walkie talkie. He told another nurse. "Call the police. Tell them there is a hostage situation here. Then secure the patients and find cover," he yelled as he and Reyes ran to the stairs. 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." Monica Reyes and Santiago Allende were on their way to the ICU unit when all the lights went out. The auxiliary power came on, but that generator only produced enough electricity to keep the critical care patients alive. Not enough to assist two federal agents in a dark stairwell. 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." "Alright," Reyes clutched her gun. "Is this guy armed?" "Only his hands." "Oh, great." 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. Allende followed her, shining the flashlight over her shoulder. Reyes pushed open the door to 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?" "Other there," a young, petite nurse said, pointing towards the end of the row. "But I think you're too late…" "Why?" Reyes demanded. "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." Allende turned to Reyes. "He did that to Sara with his bare hands?!?!?!?!?!" 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 a note pinned to the front of Sealy's hospital gown: Teri's next if you screw up again. 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." "The doctor told me," Scully blew out her match. "To create a soothing environment." "Where's William?" Bravo asked, moving past Mulder to sit on the sofa. She leaned back and watched the fish swimming lazily in their tank. "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." Mulder and Scully had argued heatedly about the choice of the hypno-therapist for Starkweather. Mulder was opposed to Dr. Vander Wheel because he had absolutely no experience with performing regression hypnotic therapy on an abductee. Scully favored Dr. Vander Wheel for exactly that reason. 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?" Bravo nodded. "Yes," she said. "Yes, that's alright." 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?" "Okay." "So, let's find you and me a chair and let's begin." Mulder produced two folding chairs from his closet. After unfolding them, he sat on the couch. Scully got up from her seat. As Bravo made her way towards the folding chairs, Scully stopped her and whispered, "We're right here, Jerilyn. It'll be okay." Bravo nodded and tried to smile. Meanwhile, her mind was rebelling <> 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?" Bravo complied while thinking <> In a firm, commanding voice, he said "On the count of three, I want you to close your eyes, Jerilyn. Ready?" "Ready." "And… three… two… one." When Jerilyn closed her eyes, Dr. Vander Wheel said "Alright Jerilyn. Block everything else out except the sound of my voice. The sound of my voice is the only sound in this room. This is a safe room, nothing is here that can here you. You feel wonderfully good, very comfortable. You feel relaxed. You feel wonderfully good. Your feet are very relaxed. You feel wonderfully good. You feel relaxed. You feel wonderfully good… your legs are relaxed. You are concentrating on only the sound of my voice. Your feet, legs and torso are relaxed…" The doctor continued in that vein for several minutes. Mulder and Scully felt slightly hypnotized by his routine. Their reverie was broken by the doctor's first question. "Mrs. Starkweather, may I call you Jerilyn?" "Yes," came the sleepy response. "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?" "Alright." "What is your full name?" "Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather." "How old are you?" "Twenty-nine." Her eyes were closed, her head bowed. "What do you do for a living?" "I'm a federal agent." "How long have you been a federal agent?" "Almost two years." "Is being a federal agent dangerous?" "Yes." "Did you know that being a federal agent was dangerous when you applied at Quantico?" "Yes." "Jerilyn, I want to ask some questions that are a little more difficult. Is that alright?" "Yes." "Have you always worked in Washington DC?" "No." "Where was your first office?" "Minneapolis." "Why Minneapolis?" "I was top in my classes," Bravo droned. "I got to select my post. Because my husband was from Minneapolis originally, I picked that field office so he could be close to his family." "Why did you move from Minneapolis to Washington?" "I got in trouble with my superior. It was either accept a transfer or be fired. I chose transfer." "How did your husband feel about that." "He didn't like it." "Were you and your husband having marital problems?" "Yes." "Why?" "He didn't trust me. He thought I put my ambition before our marriage." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Mulder took her hand and leaned against the couch. "And did you put your ambition before your marriage?" "Yes." "Where is your husband now, Jerilyn?" "He's dead." "What happened?" "He died during a drive by shooting at City Hall." The doctor scrawled a note to himself on his little notepad. "How did that make you feel?" "I blamed myself. I hated myself. I wanted to die." "But you didn't die." "No. I became angry instead. I wanted to find the men who killed my husband." "What happened?" "I was sent to investigate an illegal laboratory in South Dakota with my partner." "Why?" "Because the lab was run by the same organization that ordered the drive-by. The hit was not for my husband but for my half-brother. Ben was just at the wrong place at the wrong time." "Ben is your husband?" "Yes." Bravo clenched and unclenched her hands. "Jerilyn, my questions are going to get harder now. Do you want to keep going?" "Yes." "You mentioned a partner. Is this your partner with the FBI?" "Yes." "What's his name?" "John Doggett." "Do you trust him?" "Yes." "Do you often go into dangerous situations with your partner?" "Yes." "You and your partner went to a place called Belle Fleur, Oregon a few months ago?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because one of our colleagues received a video tape in the mail. On that video was a boy named Gibson Praise. He had been missing for years. We went to Oregon to follow the lead." "Was it just you and your partner that went?" "No. We were followed." "By whom?" "My half-brother." "Why?" "Because he's a pain in the ass." The doctor chuckled. "Is that the only reason?" "And he was concerned for our safety." "Did he have reasons to be concerned?" Scully looked away from the doctor and Bravo and up at Mulder. He was leaning forward now, listening intently. They were getting further down the time line now, closer to Starkweather's abduction. "Yes." "Why?" "Because he was afraid that I would be taken away." "Why would someone take you away?" "Because it is believed that I am part of that illegal genetics experience my partner and I investigated." "Do you believe?" "I don't want to believe." "But do you?" A long long silence. Scully held her breath. Mulder stared at Bravo, waiting her answer. "Yes." "And people are after you because of this?" "Yes." "Why?" "To destroy the evidence of their wrongdoings. I wasn't supposed to survive." 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?" Again another long silence. Then a soft "No." "What happened?" "Doggett was attacked, a woman named Lilly Stratford stabbed him." "Who's Lilly Stratford?" "My half-sister. She was part of the genetics experiments that I was when we were babies." "Why did she attack your partner?" "It was a trap. She knew that if she hurt him, we'd follow. We followed her into the woods. My brother was already on her trail, ahead of us." Mulder looked at the floor. He already knew this part of the story. "What happened?" "There was a bright light. A strong gust of wind came out of nowhere. It picked me up and threw me against a tree. I hit my head. I… don't… remember." "Don't or won't?" Bravo appeared to be struggling. "Can't. I was unconscious… I hit my head very very hard." "What happened when you came to?" "I found my brother lying on the ground. I found my necklace lying on the ground." "What is significant about the necklace?" "It was a holy medal of Saint Christopher. I had given it to my partner." "Where was your partner?" "Gone." "Gone where?" "Don't know. He disappeared into the lights." "Disappeared how." "I… I can't remember, I hit my head very hard." She put her hand to her head as if it still hurt. "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." "NO!" she cried out, eyes still closed. "Please… I'm not ready. Don't…" "We'll go back to that night when you're ready," the doctor said accommodatingly. "But I do have something very difficult to ask you. I do want to take you deeper into yourself to the night when you disappeared. Maybe if you face that night, you can face the night your partner disappeared. Do you want to try? You are in complete control. You are in a safe place where no one can hurt you. Do you want to try?" Scully whispered to Mulder, "Maybe we should stop this." "Shh," Mulder shushed her. "It's up to Jerilyn." "I… want to try… I want to try. I have nightmares," Bravo said, head bowed, eyes still closed. "I want to try." "Okay, Jerilyn, I want to concentrate on the sound of my voice. Nothing but my voice. You are extremely comfortable and completely safe. You feel wonderfully good. You are relaxing and remembering. Relaxing and remembering. You are remembering XXXX, XX 2002. You are reliving that day. You are in control. You feel wonderfully good. Jerilyn, can you tell me where you are?" "At Dulles." "What are you doing?" "Running." "Why are you running?" "I'm trying to catch a flight." "Where are you going?" "Russia." "Why Russia?" "Because my brother called me. He located my partner. He's in Russia. He told me to catch the first flight to Moscow. He needs my help." "So you go to Moscow to help your brother find your partner." "Yes… oh get out of my way…" "What is happening?" "People… are in my way…" Bravo lost that sleepy tone in her voice. She was talking the way Starkweather spoke normally. "Fucking people… GET OUT OF MY WAY, I HAVE A FLIGHT TO CATCH, motherfuckers… Jesus fucking Christ, why can't they get out of my way??? I have ten minutes to get on that plane… oh Christ… no I'm not carrying any illegal fire arms and yes I packed my bags myself. I'm a federal agent." She mimed taking out her FBI badge and holding it up. "What is happening, Jerilyn?" "A security guard stopped me. Wants to search my bags. I shove my badge in his face and push him aside. I make the plane. I get on by the skin of my teeth… Bitch, that is MY seat, see, look at the ticket number. MOVE." "What's happening now?" "The plane takes off. I'm sitting by a window. I try to stop the flight attendant. I want a drink. There's a baby a few rows back crying. I have a headache." "How do you feel?" "Scared. I'm scared that I won't get there in time and something goes wrong… that Mulder gets his dumb ass killed. Or something happens to Doggett…" her voice cracked. "You have great affection for your partner, don't you?" "Yes…" "What are you doing now?" "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…" "What is happening now, Jerilyn?" Bravo was sitting straight up, as if she was in an airplane seat. She clutched her seat. "The plane. It's shaking." "Is it turbulence?" "No… no… It's not turbulence. It's… something… oh God, this is how the plane was acting when Scully and Doggett and I went to Scotland." "What happened in Scotland?" Scully meanwhile had turned white. Mulder had only eyes on Bravo, frowning. "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?" "The entire cockpit is full of light. It hurts my eyes. I… I feel funny. I feel light… like I'm floating… oh my God, the seat belt is cutting into my waist… something is pulling me up…. No… no no no no no no, FUCK you I am NOT going…. Oh God… please don't…" Bravo began to struggle in her seat as if she was battling an invisible tractor beam. "Who is pulling you up?" "I… I don't know! I can't see… I'm floating… but Christ, the seatbelt is digging into me… oh God! The buckle just opened up, I'm rising up… I can't see… my skin is burning…. Stop…" Bravo burst out. "Stop this, I want to stop. Please stop, I can't do this… make it stop… Mulder… make him stop," she sobbed. 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?" "Please… I want to stop…" she gasped. "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." "Mulder… bug off." "Jerilyn-" "I'm serious. I wanna be alone for a bit, okay? I need…" she ran her fingers through her long hair. "I need to figure this out." "Mrs. Starkweather," Dr. Vander Wheel said cordially. "I would like to visit with you again. If you would like." "I need to think about it." "Jerilyn," Mulder said again. Bravo wheeled around. "I said I'd think about it! Mulder… please…either leave me alone here, or I'm going back to the hotel. And that means all of you! I'm sorry." Bravo had been staying at Mulder's ever since word about Liam Sealy's death got back to Mulder and Scully. Mulder said he felt better with Jerilyn under his roof. He hadn't even been staying over at Scully's on those nights. 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." "Scully, time is a luxury we don't have right now. I firmly believe that Reyes' sister and the Senator's disappearance are connected to Starkweather. We need to know what happened to her. From the minute Doggett disappeared to when she was abducted and when she was returned. We have to get inside her head, Scully. Her memories could be the only hope for Teresa Reyes and Senator Wesley-Bailey." The elevator doors slid open. "A fat lot of good her memories will do us Mulder if her sanity cracks," Scully spat at him as she got inside. 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." She ripped the CD-R off and went to her little laptop computer. "Come on baby…" she whispered, popping the CD-R into the C drive. "Come on, show Momma what you got." An edit popped up on the screen. "Password… figures… okay," Bravo popped her knuckles. "Here we go…" She typed in "Trust No One." The words "Access Denied" flashed on her screen in big red letters. "Fuck you," Bravo said as she re-typed in "TrustNo1." Again, the "Access Denied" message flashed. 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 looked at row of videos next to the television set. 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…" She grabbed a piece of scrap paper and a pen, jotted down one of the contact numbers for Carlos. Thought a little bit, taping the pen against her chin. "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?" "It's not Mulder." "JERILYN??? How in the hell did you get this number?" "Obviously I can't talk to you on this line. But I need to see you." A startled silence. "Okay…" "Something happened tonight. I need to tell you." "There's a little Internet café not too far away from Mulder's apartment." "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…" She turned and raided the duffel bag she had brought with her. In less than five minutes, she had put on a pair of Calvin Klein jeans Starkweather loved and a hunter green sweater that really brought out the emerald of Bravo's contact lenses. Bravo pulled out a brush and after taking out the pony tail, brushed her hair until it glowed. Zipping up a pair of knee high black boots, Bravo was dressed to kill. Literally. ** Twenty-five minutes later 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." His voice rubbed against her like silk. Bravo appraised his long lean face, thick dreadlocked hair, firm body and casual clothes. "Do I know you?" She asked casually as she put the laundry bag down on the gaudy coffee table and began taking out Mulder's shirts and jeans. "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." "Enough with the James Bond shit," Bravo told him. "This is important. I wouldn't have gone through Mulder's personal shit to find your number to contact you." "Mulder doesn't know?" "And I don't want Mulder to know. Or Scully. Or Doggett… or anyone." Carlos' brow furrowed. "What happened?" Bravo sighed. "I… agreed to a hypnotic session. To see if it could jog my memory as to what happened when… why I didn't make it to Russia. At Mulder' request." Carlos acted like he didn't know about that. "Did it work?" "I don't… I…" Bravo looked at the floor, then up at Carlos, using ever ounce of charm and vulnerability she could conjure up. "I remembered… I don't think what I remembered is true. I think…" she closed her eyes. "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." "A UFO?" "A UFO… but I don't think those memories are real. They don't feel real." "Are you sure you're not just in denial?" Bravo gave him a scornful look. "There is no such thing as a space ship. The virus, I can buy. The genetic alterations on human DNA to make them all but invincible, I can buy. Aliens? No. I'm sorry. But no. It can't be true." "What do you think it is then?" She looked up at Carlos. "Have you ever heard of False Memory Syndrome?" Carlos shook his head. "What is it?" "Exactly as it sounds… 'A psychological condition in which a person believes he or she remembers events that have not actually occurred.' That's a verbatim quote from the Random House Compact Unabridged Dictionary," she said. "Special Edition, 1996." She shook her head. "I knew the hypnosis session was a mistake. I knew it. Most respected professional medical organizations feel that regression therapies… hypnosis… massage therapy… guided imagery are not scientifically valid." "So why go with it?" "To placate Mulder. And… I guess… I was hoping that I was wrong… that maybe I would… that maybe it would work. But… when the doctor placed me under… the imagery… what I was seeing inside my mind while hypnotized was so vivid. Like a flashback… but… it just doesn't feel right. It didn't feel like my other memories. And you know that I have hypermnesia." "Big word," Carlos pretended to be perplexed. "And no dictionary available." Bravo smiled. "Extreme retentiveness of memory. Photographic memory." "Ah." "Carlos, I wish I could give you and Mulder what you need to end this bullshit. I would personally love it, if there was no reason for the X-Files to exist anymore. But I don't remember. I really don't remember. I'm sorry." "So why did you want to meet with me?" Carlos asked. "To tell Mulder to back off?" "That," Bravo said, reaching for the laundry bag, "and this." She reached inside and bag and pulled out a Ziplock Baggie that had a cotton swab inside of it. Carlos frowned at it. "What's this?" "The one thing that those sons-of-bitches didn't get when I was mugged," she muttered. "I had it hidden in my apartment. Who ever ransacked my apartment, didn't check my kitchen very well. They didn't look under the fridge." "That's nice," Carlos said blandly. "But what IS it?" "The day that I came back, Mulder and Doggett strong-armed me to the hospital for a physical. To make sure everything was okay. But I wouldn't let any other doctor except Scully look at me. She did ask for a nurse to help her. But I didn't trust her. The nurse. The nurse helped take scrapings underneath my nails. In case I had fought someone, maybe some of their tissue or blood was still underneath my nails." "I can't picture you scratching somebody," Carlos quipped. "Too girly. Now… punching someone…" he touched his cheek, remembering the day Starkweather had decked him in the little chapel in Sedona, Arizona." She gave him another withering glance. "Anyway. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe I had a Spiderman moment, but she just didn't feel… right…" "So…?" "So while she was busy talking to Scully about something… I switched Q-tips." She handed the Ziploc baggie to him. "I was going to have DNA test run at Quantico… but now, with everything… I don't trust anyone." "So you want me to have the CIA run the DNA test?" She nodded. "Without Mulder's knowledge?" Carlos asked. "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. "Mulder is not trying to hurt you, Jerilyn." "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…" Carlos put the baggie in his pocket. "I can do it. It's the least I can do. Bravo nodded. "Okay." "I am glad to see you," Carlos said. "I'm glad you're okay. In one piece and breathing." "Yeah, sure beats the alternative." "I'm sorry I failed you," he said softly. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop them from getting you." <> Bravo's evil mind started turning. <> 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." "I haven't had much reason too." Carlos reached up and touched her face. Bravo found herself shivering. She surprised herself when she realized the shivers were due to anticipation and attraction. Carlos exuded sex appeal. She knew if she could bottle Carlos' pheromones and sell it, even the ugliest man on earth could get laid at least once before he died. "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 took them from him and looked up at the glowing clock behind him. It was ten to nine. "Close enough," she said, unwrapping the cellophane and pulling a cigarette out of the box. "How much for everything?" "I can get those for ya," a cheerful voice told her. The voice's owner put a companionable hand on her shoulder. 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. <> she mused as she returned to her seat. <> 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. Starkweather wasn't there anymore. <> Langly thought. <> 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." "What are you doing here?" "Keeping you honest." "Get that fucking gun off my head." Shannon McMahon lowered the gun. "We received your correspondence." "And?" "The plan stays the same." "Mulder is a threat as long as he's alive, I have the perfect opportunity to take him out NOW." McMahon got in her face. "Do that and kiss any protection you enjoy goodbye. You've been operating freely for a long time, with the blessings of the Syndicate, yes. But you are still they're property. You are still their merchandise, just as I am. Displease them, and they can reclaim you. Or terminate you." 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." "What's that?" "When hits are officially approved on Fox Mulder and John Doggett, that assignment is mine." 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!" "You too, but what are you doing out in this part of town?" "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?" "Well, I was gonna go see if I could bum a ride home from… hey, can you drive me home?" "Sure, no problem." "**Shit**," Bravo hissed as she heard the car drive away. Suddenly Bravo wheeled around and smashed McMahon in the face with her elbow. She caught the gun McMahon dropped and shot her twice in gut, knowing it would have no effort on the female alien replicant, except that it would hurt her. A lot. Pushing McMahon away from her, she darted out into the street. 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?" Lyle sighed. "Not yet," he said, immersed in a book. 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?" "Take out the trash?" "In a minute." "Oh, for goodness sake," she sighed, exasperated, closing the dishwasher. She turned and left the kitchen in a huff. 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." "Lyle, it's starting to rain. In another minute, it's going to be a downpour. And it's supposed to storm. And the garbage smells really bad." Lyle sighed and put his book on the floor, then got up from his chair with a groan. "Okay, okay," he sighed. "I'll do it now." "Leslie Callanwolde called," Heather said as Lyle shuffled past her. "Who's that?" "The new nurse on my floor." "Oh yeah?" "She said she can trade shifts with me. So I'll be working for her next weekend." "Oh. Good," Lyle said with a yawn. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go to bed after I take out the trash. You work tomorrow?" "Split shift." "Have you heard anything back from the job interview?" "Not yet," Heather said, moving out into the living room and settling into a pink overstuffed chair, picking up the remote. "Hopefully soon." She turned the TV on and changed the channel from TNN to TLC. 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. "He's dead," the woman told her, lifting the gun up, pulling the safety off. "Sit still." Heather began to blubber. "Why?? Oh god, don't hurt me, please don't kill me, I'll give you anything you want, just don't kill me." 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. This time. ** 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?" "Today you mean?" Frohike looked at the clock." "Whatever. Or you got other plans?" "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 got some stuff I need to think 'bout," Langly said. "I'll tell you… but not now. I gotta think." "Well…" Nonplussed, Frohike turned back to the television screen. He was watching for the tenth time the Teresa Reyes video Scully forwarded him from Agent Allende. "You know Byers and I are here… you know… if you… need something," he said gruffly. "'Tween Starkweather and Yves… this is a shitty time for everyone." Just then, there was a giant clap of thunder, a bright flash of lightening and all the power to Tacoma Falls dissipated. "Dammit," Frohike yelled. "I thought I saw something on that tape, but I wasn't sure." "I have a feelin'," Langly said. "That's it's only gonna get darker yet." "Who are you, Edgar Allen Poe?" "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." "I brought'chu a fat-free latte, a sundried tomata' bagel with low-fat veggie cream cheese and you look absolutely fabulous today." "You're forgiven," Lyoness told Matthews. "Hey, Howie, check this out." She moved away from the microscope. "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?" "You got me," Lyoness said with a shrug, playing with a strand of her over processed blond hair. "Where did you get it from?" "I got it from the scrapings underneath Agent Doggett's nails. He was hanging onto Rohrer pretty damn good when he was holding him over the tar pit. Talked to Agent Benchly about it. He said that it was just like being in a movie." "Speaking of movies, is it just me, or does that guy look like the bad guy from T2?" Matthew asked flippantly as he examined the specimen through the microscope with a frown. "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…" "I was hoping you weren't going to say that," Lyoness groaned. "I've been through every damn catalog and medical journal trying to figure out what the hell is going on with that sample. It's almost… not human." Matthews looked up. "Alice," he said seriously. "Be careful what're sayin'. There's freaky shit goin' on now. You heard 'bout how the boyfriend, Sealy died. And Sara." "I know, Howie, I know." Lyoness looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Special Agent Sara Mathers had been a good friend of hers. "Going to the funeral?" "Mathers? Yeah… I gotta send her family flowers or something…" he cleared his throat. "WHY didju get this?" "To run a paternity test. Allende asked me to. That little kid that Rohrer threw into the water at Disney? She told the feds that Rohrer was her father." She turned around and with gloved hands, handed Matthews a different slide. "I haven't run the paternity test yet, but… check it out…" Matthews took out Rohrer's slide and put in Rowan's. "Holy shit… what the fuck is UP with this shit?" "Baby," she said, reaching into the Starbucks sack, taking out her latte. "You and I are gonna be spending a very long day in this damn lab, methinks." ** 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?" "Me." Reyes put the freshly light cigarette in her mouth, ground out the dying cigarette in the hotel's ashtray and went to open the door. "How do you feel?" she asked, letting Doggett inside. "Sore," he said, moving stiffly. "But I'll live. You?" Reyes shrugged, sitting down on her bed. "I'm okay." "Monica, look," he said, slowly sitting down beside her. "I'm sorry I was an asshole at the hospital. But you were sayin' stuff, that I can't accept. Not without proof. You can't just make statements like that without proof." "I know," Reyes said. "Have you talked to her lately?" "Yeah… yeah…" he said, looking pained. "She got mugged the same day we were at the tar pits." "Mugged?" "Well… it was supposed to look like a muggin', but all they stole were X-Files Starkweather was returning to the office." <> Reyes thought desperately. <> "You… believe it?" Reyes asked. 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. <> "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?" "I quit quitting," Reyes said, but she didn't protest when he ground the cigarette out in the ashtray. 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." "The what?" Reyes looked at the floor, wishing that his friendly embrace didn't' feel so right. "My grandmother, Mom's mother, used to tell us stories from the Mayan culture. One of the stories is about a little skunk… it really loses a lot in translation… but… "'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." Then Mr. Jaguar told him: "Don't shout. Just scratch my belly when they come. Scratch my belly, so I won't alarm them. But don't wake me up if just any little old animals without antlers come along, only when the one with big antlers gets here. That's when you'll wake me up." "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."" <> 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." "Mon, don't… don't talk like that," Doggett told her sternly. "You're a good federal agent. You're doing good here. You're handling yourself better'n I did when we lost Luke… just…" he gave her a self-depreciating smile. "Have a little faith." 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." "I know," Dr. Fix crooned, stroking her hair. 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." "What's soon?" Dr. Fix demanded. "I've been hearing about this 'soon' since this child was recovered." "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?" "I can not disclose that information right now, Dr. Fix." "Well, you better disclose that information to me as soon as possible," Dr. Fix frowned, trying to look intimidating. "Because I am going with the child. To at least brief the new attending physician of her condition." "I'll consult with my superiors to see if that is a possibility," Allende said gravely. "It would be wise. It could save valuable time." "And I will let my superiors know that as well," Allende said, his voice never rising. "Keep us updated, doctor." "I will, trust me," she said grimly. 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." Rowan, fatigued by her disorders, had fallen back into a diseased sleep. She put her hand to her neck as if she wore a necklace. Tears ran down her cheeks. ** Later on… 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?" "Bunny!" William squealed, clapping his chubby hands together. 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-" Scully frowned and put William on the phone. "Play with your toys, Boo." "Bunny!" William protested, pointing at the television set. "In a second, sweetie," Scully said, picking up her cell phone. "I have to call your dad." "Bunny!" William wailed, approaching temper tantrum proportions. "Mulder." "BUNNY!!!!" "William, shush, in a minute! Mulder, it's me, where are you?" "At the office. Why?" "Turn your TV to Channel 5 right now. I have to change the set here before William throws a major fit." "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-" Mulder turned off the television. "Carillo is looking chippier as always." "Mulder, the first victim, Heather Callahan." "First victim? I missed part of that." "Heather Callahan was found dead in her home this morning. Gun shot wound to her head. Her husband did not show up for work, which prompted one of his friends to go over to their house during his break. He found Heather and saw that the car was gone." "And?" "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." "Can you call Jerilyn for me?" "Why?" "I want to set up another hypnosis regression session with her." "Mulder! No! Do your own damn dirty work. "Scully. This is NOT a coincidence. Look, a message is being sent to us, but it's encrypted." "I don't think Jerilyn would appreciate being referred to as a human decoder ring." "There is only one person who knows what's going on," Mulder said darkly. "And that's Jerilyn." ** 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…" <> Bravo reasoned as she looked around Doggett's house for the cat. <> She was in Doggett's kitchen. She saw that the giant bag of Cat Chow had been ripped into. Literally. Dry cat food was all over the floor. "Okay, so you're not starving," Bravo said. "Where in the hell ARE you then?" Caesar was actually perched on top of a set of shelves just above the fridge. Like a kamikaze pilot, he dove off the shelves and landed solidly on Bravo's head and shoulders. "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?" "Which is which?" "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?" "I don't get it, Howie. I am simply confounded. This… this is weird. The cells have an abnormal shape to them. They're organic and yet there are inorganic properties to it. And take a peep at this," she said, guiding Matthews to the microscope again. "Watch," she said as she picked up a fine needle. As Matthews looked through the lenses of the microscope, Lyoness slid the needle in and started poking at the tissue sample. "Hey, what are you doin'? You're messing up the sample!" "Just watch," Lyoness withdrew the needle. Matthews snorted, but then suddenly widened his eyes. "Holy balls, the cells are… rebuildin' themselves…" "Spontaneous regeneration." "In a human? At this rapid rate? That can't be right." "See why I called him a genetic freak?" "I wonder if the rest of his body's like this. I mean, if his skin can rebuild itself with this kinda speed…" "What about the rest of him," Lyoness said. "His muscle, his bone… everything…" "Jesus God…" There was a knock on the door. "Can I come in?" Agent Patrick Benchly asked, popping his head in, carrying his briefcase and workout bag in one hand, a backpack in the other. "Sure, c'mon in," Matthews beckoned him. "What'chu doin' here?" "I'm Allende's errand boy today," Benchly said sheepishly. "Checking to see what's going on with the Teresa Reyes case. If there was anything on the video tape." "Nothin' yet," Matthews grumbled. "What's this?" Benchly picked up Rowan's file. "The paternity test? It's already in?" "Yeah," Lyoness said, "Well, it's a prelim, but… yeah, pretty much, what the kid's saying is true. Rohrer's her father." "This complicates everything," Benchly muttered. "Mind if I take this to Allende?" "Knock yourself out," Matthews said. "Great, well… let us know if you find anything else." "Well…" Lyoness said hesitantly. "I think we did, but we got to run some more tests. I don't want to say anything else until we know for sure what we're looking at." Benchly looked confused. "Uh… yeah… okay, well, talk to you later then." "See ya kid," Lyoness called after him. "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." "Sounds good to me," Matthews said, standing up again. Searching in his baggy jean pockets for change, he asked "Wanna soda? I'm buyin'?" "You bought last time." "Yeah, so, don't worry. I gotta tab goin' for ya." "What a guy," Lyoness rolled her eyes, reaching for one of her medical journals again. As Matthews started to walk out the door, he exclaimed, "Hey! Benchly forgot his gym bag." It was the last sentence Matthews ever spoke again. ** 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. "It's alright," Allende looked fatigued. "With rush hour, I wasn't expecting you to be here this early." "How bad is it?" "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." "Not all," Doggett reminded him. "My contacts in DC are still reviewin' a copy of the first tape. We may be able pull a rabbit out a hat yet." Allende said "I hope so. Do you mind sticking around for a while? You're kind of the leading authority on Rohrer." "No. I don't mind." "You up to it?" "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." "Use my phone." "It's long distance." "If you won't tell the taxpayers, I won't," Allende said nonchalantly, putting his jacket back on. When Allende left the tiny office, Doggett scooted around to sit at his desk. He dialed her number from memory. "Hello?" "Doc, it's me." "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." "Oh Christ," Doggett said automatically but he noticed that there was something off in her voice. "Starkweather, am I calling at a bad time?" "Well…" she said, meekly, hesitantly. "Yeah, you are." All Doggett could think to say was "Oh." "I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding so sincere. "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." "Okay," she said meekly. "I'm sorry." "S'alright. Good night, Doc." "Night," she said softly, replacing the receiver. Carlos walked out of the kitchen. "Who was that?" Bravo looked at him, "Doggett." "How's he doing?" She nodded. "Better. He's just…. Fussing over me as usual… as if I was a child," she added bitterly. 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 stirred his coffee absently. Then abruptly stopped stirring as he reached for the sugar shaker. "It makes sense," he said, pouring more sugar into his cup. "After all, he was the one black mailing Reyes when all this happened." "And he's got motivation," Carlos said. "He'd do anything to protect Samita. Which is why he aided in the initial abduction of Starkweather." Mulder nodded. "We just have to find him." "That's easy," Carlos snorted. "We just go the FBI safe house where we're keeping Samita and the kids and we wait for him. Personally, I don't know why we're allowing him to continue with the charade of Connor Saint-Claire, mild mannered business man. I'd love to throw him down." 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." "Stop what?" "Thinking like a G-man. You're one of us now. You're a shadow man. We have certain luxuries the FBI doesn't." "Such as operating outside the law?" "Like you never had before," Carlos reminded him. Mulder glared at him. "I've only bent a few rules." "Bent? Remember, I'm your CIA recruiter. I did my homework. And my friend, 'bent' is an understatement." "But I've never doled out my own justice. I didn't want to give justice. I just wanted the truth to be known. I trusted in others to handle justice based on the truth I brought to them." Carlos smiled sorrowfully at Mulder. "Brother that was your first mistake." ** 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." "I wanna go home," whined Drew. "I want my toys. I want my friends. I wanna pway outside." "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?" Samita's natural mother had been a ravishingly beautiful woman. Out of the five sisters from the Eden Project, only Samita inherited her beauty and grace. Samita, however, had never met her biological mother. She had inherited Lynnette's pearly skin, rose petal lips, heart-shaped face and lithe body. Unlike Lynnette, Samita had soft brown hair and deep blue eyes. The two half-sisters she had never met, Alpha and Bravo, had inherited Lynnette's auburn hair. Somehow, Charlie inherited blond hair and Jerilyn's coloring came almost exclusively from her father's side, mocha brown hair and witchy hazel eyes. 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." "I received another letter from social services," she said in her hushed husky voice. She rarely raised her voice. She was always a perfect lady. She resembled Lynnette Bailey so much that if Jerilyn or her deceased adoptive father, the Admiral, had ever met her, they would have been startled by the resemblances. The facial expressions. The tone of voice. The mannerisms. "They seem to feel that Drew and Kory would be better off if they were placed in foster care and possibly given to another family." "They can't do that, Sami," he told her, sitting down on the prickly couch, a reject from the Seventies. He held out his hands and Samita got up from her chair. She walked over to him, placed her hands into his. "I promise you, we won't lose the kids. I'm working on a deal…" "A deal?" Samita was not only lovely, but brilliant. She could not be fooled or swayed. "No more deals Connor." 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?" "To England," he said. "That's where your father was from, wasn't it?" "That's what Marita and Felitza said, but Connor, remember, I never met the man." "I've been talking to Marita," he finally said. "Marita??" Shocked, Samita pulled her hands out from his. "Connor, she's a wanted felon." "Sami, she's making all the arrangements. In less than two weeks, we'll be on a plane for London. Then we disappear into oblivion." "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." "Okay," Samita whispered trustingly, clinging to him. "I love you, Connor." "I love you too, Samita," he whispered back to her as he kissed her. "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." "Can you stay tonight?" 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?" "No," he said. "Well… good. I'm glad." "Funny how she was found," Carlos said casually. "The hospital took scraping from underneath her fingernails." "Why? Who cares?" "Because if she fought somebody," Mulder said patiently, as if explaining how to play Bingo to a very stupid child, "she may have scratched them. And genetic material, such as skin or hair or blood may have been trapped under her nails. Don't you watch 'CSI'?" "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?" "But don't worry," Carlos reassured him. "We turn it off during your conjugal visits." Connor got into Mulder's face. "You… you and your government are not doing shit to protect my wife." "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." "Maybe that's why you are dealing with the Syndicate," Carlos piped up. "Because the Syndicate's mission statement matches your personality so well." "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?" "Remember how we mentioned the funny way Agent Starkweather was found?" Carlos asked. "We never went into the details." "She showed up on Agent Doggett's doorstep ten days ago, just out of the blue," Mulder took another step towards Connor. Connor held his ground. They were now nose to nose. "But that's not the funny part. The punch line to this joke, is that when we took the fingernail scrapings from her, we analyzed the DNA. And we got a hit from out data base. The DNA matches YOUR DNA. One hundred percent. Ha ha. Ha ha." Mulder said in his characteristic monotone. Connor turned pale. "No…" "So what happened Blade?" Carlos asked. "Were you feeling frisky one night and thought, well what the hell, she looks like Samita so let's have one go around? Trust me," Carlos dropped a wink. "I used to date the girl. She's a great ride." Mulder glared at Carlos. "Shut up. That's my little sister." Blandly, Carlos said "Now you know why Bill Scully Jr. goes ape-shit on you." "How did you know about Bill Scully Jr.?" "I'm CIA. I know everything." Connor stopped their squabbling. "No… I mean… it can't be. It wasn't me." "What?" Carlos said innocently. "Aliens planted your DNA on Agent Starkweather? Bad ET, bad." Mulder suddenly grabbed Connor by the lapels of his suit. "Did you hurt her?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed and burning emerald fire. "You son-of-a-bitch, did you?" "I never touched Agent Starkweather," he pleaded, seeing homicidal tendencies in his eyes. "I don't… it has to be a mistake. I haven't seen Starkweather since… since she… before she was flying out to meet you Mulder. I swear to God," he pleaded. "Who ever took her, it wasn't me." "Why did you lead us?" Mulder demanded. "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." Mulder let Connor go. "I wouldn't be planning any trips overseas yet," he threatened him. 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." "I refuse to cooperate with this nation any longer." "Careful," Carlos said seriously. "With the Homeland Security Act in force, that very unpatriotic remark could very well be interpreted as a threat against this nation. And I can make that stick, Connor." "I just want my family to be safe," Connor said, smoothing his suit jacket. "You're making a mistake. I did not have Agent Starkweather. I was just the messager." When Connor walked away, Mulder started to go after him. But Carlos stopped him. "Let 'im go." "He might flee the country." "Not with the memo I'll be sending to all the airports, police stations and federal law enforcement agencies in the greater DC area," Carlos growled. "The man won't even be able to fart without somebody knowing it. Who knows, maybe we'll be able to catch Covarrubias while we're at it too." "Yeah… that would be nice," Mulder still stared at Connor's retreating form like a rabid dog. "Mulder, what is it?" "I don't know… something's just not sitting right with me." "What do you mean?" "I think Connor was telling the truth." "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?" "One of my friends," Mulder said. "We've been playing phone tag since Saturday." He hit the redial option and put the phone to his ear. "Come on, come on…" As he waited for someone to pick up the phone, he told Carlos. "These are the guys that are wiring Starkweather's apartment." "Ah." Carlos said. "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." *** Much much later… 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." "I can't," Langly said stubbornly. "You would think I'm nuts. I gotta talk to Mulder. I'm not trying to be a butthole and hide stuff from you guys. But it's something that I think it's better I keep to myself until after I talk to Mulder." 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. "Frohike, where have you been?" Byers asked. "I contacted-" He paused, looking at Byers' project. "You're clipping coupons?" "I'm trying to save us money," Byers said piously. "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, finally brightening up since his dismal run in with "Starkweather." "That's a major demotion." "Well, let's just say they didn't impress anyone with their high jinks during the Doggett and Starkweather disappearances," Frohike said blandly. "Anyway, they offered to rent from us for a week. A grand a day," he said modestly. "Wow!" Langly said again. "That money will go a long way in the fund-age to find Yves." "Langly, did you just make up a word?" Byers asked. "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." "No big deal," Byers said. "Drug surveillances drag on for days and days." "Were you able to find something on the digitized version?" Langly asked. "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" With the mouse, Frohike hit "play" 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?" "That's what I thought too," Frohike said. "I couldn't get the film to slow down enough when it was just VHS and plus when last night's storm knocked out our power…" "Morse code," Byers said, reaching for a notebook and pen. "Frohike, rewind. Please." Frohike complied. Byers wrote frantically, watching as Teresa Reyes blinked out the Morse code, closing her eyes longer for the dashes, shorter for the dots. "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." "On what?" "Plane tickets," Frohike said, dialing Doggett's cell phone number. "You're going to Hollywood." ** The next day Monday, May 6, 2002 Los Angeles Field Office Los Angeles, California 6:37 AM Pacific Time "Hey Agent Reyes." Reyes turned around at the familiar nasally voice. Beaming, she turned around. "Langly," she said, throwing her arms gratefully around his gangly frame. "You are my hero, right now," she kissed his cheek. Langly blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair. "Actually Frohike's the one that caught it." "I've got a hug and kiss for him… and Byers when this is done too," she promised, releasing him from her embrace. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "Morse code. After all these years, she remembered." Her eyes shone with tears but for the first time in days, they were happy tears. "When we were kids, my sisters and brother and I would play like secret agents. We learned Morse code so we could send each other top secret messages. I never thought we'd have to use it in our adult life. Have you told Mulder and Scully yet?" "We've been playing phone tag with Mulder. I think he's up to some CIA crap right now. But if you do get a hold of Mulder… can ya give him a message for me?" "Sure what?" Langly looked over her shoulder and saw Doggett and Allende approaching. "Just tell 'im to call me," he muttered. "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?" Doggett shrugged. "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?" Langly shook his head. "Nah, I'm all jet-lagged. I'm gonna try and stay up for a while. Can ya tell me if there's a Coke machine or something near?" "There's one around the corner. Let us know if you need anything else. Agent Doggett," Allende said formally, "Agent Reyes, if you would like to come with me, I'd like to show you how we've gridded off Hollywood and if you have any suggestions to make, to please do so." Reyes was still watching Langly. "I'll be there in a minute," she said. "I need some caffeine too." 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??" Langly blinked at her incredulously. Then slowly shook his head. "She was smoking a cigarette," he whispered back to her. "And she didn't know who I was." 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 <> 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." "Oh my God!" Bravo cried out. "Sit! I'll be right back!" Bravo darted to Starkweather's shoebox sized bathroom and found the first aid kit. She quickly returned to the living room and sat next to Carlos. As she soaked a cotton ball with cleaning alcohol, she said, "You didn't come here just to return my cat." "No," Carlos admitted, flinching a little as Bravo took his hand and dabbed the cuts with the soaked cotton ball. "I have good news for you." "Oh?" "We busted Blade Connor last night." "You did?" "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 <> "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." "Oh my God…" Bravo whispered as she proceeded to bandage the cuts up now. "How could he?" "Easy, he's an anarchist," Carlos said bitterly. "He made some rather unsavory remarks about our country earlier yesterday." He sighed. "Marita gave him sensitive information from the Department of Defense. Connor claims he had no idea what the papers were for. He said that he was told he was just supposed to give the briefcase to the spies and then he would be rewarded with a small fortune." He reached over with his free hand and clasped her small hand in his. "Bailey-girl, we got him. Mulder's been interrogating him all night. He's bound to crack soon. And we have more good news." "What's that?" "About the Teresa Reyes case." When he noticed the blank look on her face, he said, "I'm surprised Scully hasn't called you about it." "Me too," she said faintly. Carlos told her how the Lone Gunmen discovered Teresa Reyes' use of Morse code. Bravo felt her throat constrict in rage. <> she seethed helplessly. <> "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 <> "Of course," he chuckled, "Forgot that you'd be less than thrilled with them." <> Bravo thought while saying "They just annoy me, that's all," she said grudgingly. "They are good at what they do, I guess." "All of them, or just one?" Carlos teased her. "Mulder told me that you made him take all the mistletoe down from Scully's house at Christmas time so the tall blond one wouldn't chase after you." 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." <<"I can get those for ya.">> <<"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." <> 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." "Trite doesn't bother me." "Bothers ME." "Jerilyn… it's me," he said gently. "I've seen you at your worst and your best. And I still like you." "Thanks, that warms my heart," she said dryly. "You know what I mean, Bailey. You're… you mean a lot to me. Always have. Always will." <