TITLE: Starkweather: Quanta AUTHORS: Scully3776 and Spookykat RATED: R for strong language and explicit content ARCHIVED: Here on Gossamer, www.fanfiction.net, and www.geocities.com/phantmoftheopera/index.html. Any other locations with prior permission. KEYWORDS: Crossover, MSR, New Character, Mulder/Scully/Doggett Friendship, The Lone Gunmen, CSM, Marita Covurabias, Mulder/Scully/Skinner Friendship, Post S8 Spoilers: S8 (Especially Vienen) Sequel to Future Past Perfect and Starkweather: Introitus. But don't worry! You don't have to read either to get the gist of the story. Important things to know: In Future Past Perfect, Al rigged Ziggy so that Mulder could see him. For Al and Sam, this story takes place immediately after Future Past Perfect. For the x-files gang, it takes place immediately after "Starkweather: Introitus." Summary: A male version of Scully invented a time machine that allows him to swap souls with Doggett to change history for the better. The history he needs to change: The murder in the county jail of the new Deputy Mayor of Washington DC at the hands of Billy Miles. How will he do it? With the help of the Gunmen and a guide from the future only he can see and hear. STUFF I MUST MENTION SO WE WON'T GET SUED: Fox, Chris Carter, and 1013 productions, if you wish to see your creations, Agent Dana Scully, Deputy Mayor Fox Mulder, Monica Reyes, and John Doggett, Luke John Doggett, Melvin Frohike, Langly, John Byers, AD Walter Skinner, CBG Spender, Marita Covarubias, Deputy Director Alvin Kersh, Billy Miles and your brainchild "The X-Files" again, I suggest you pay close attention. Scully3776 and her creations Admiral Jeremy Bailey, Mayor Thomas Swanson, Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather and Ben Starkweather, Senator Lynn Bailey, J. Stephen Cello III, and various as sundry minor characters with Spookykat's creations, Davis Justin Leo, Ana Sedai, Peter Sedai, Lilly Stratford, Manuel Ibarra will descend upon 1013 productions in Los Angeles with NBC, Belesarius, and Donald P. Belesarius' characters, Dr. Sam Becket and Al Calivici. A hostile overthrow of sporks and flamethrowers will ensue if incompliant to our demands—don't worry, they are simple and few. 1) Accommodations in Apt. 42 (Lord knows you won't be needing that anymore sniff! We've even worked out sleeping arrangements.) 2) Season-long writing contracts with 1013. 3) A weekly stipend sufficient for groceries, gas, transportation, and long distance service. 4)Both authors supplied with autographed copies of all the DVD's as they become available on the market You have been warned. Prologue: *********** While theorizing that one could time travel in his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Becket stepped into the Quantum Leap accellorator, and vanished. He awoke to find himself leaping from life to life, putting right what once went wrong. His only guide on this journey is Al, a hologram from the future that only Sam can see and hear, and leaps from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong hoping that each time his next leap will be the leap home. ************************************************* June 24, 2011; 7:34 AM Roswell NM, Area51 Project Quantum Leap Headquarters ************************************ John Doggett felt like he had just gotten over a very severe case of vertigo. He leapt up from the glass table that he hadn't realized till now that he was lying on, not even taking notice of the white spandex he was donning from head to toe that was a far cry from his understated jacket-and-tie FBI attire. "Luke!" The little boy he lost, unfortunately was one of the few things his Swiss-Cheezed memory could remember. "Anybody here!" He shouted in the half Brooklyn/half Southern accent that had been perfected over the years with the NYPD. Upon not getting any response he studied his surroundings the way his finely tuned detective's instincts taught him to. Looking around, he saw that he was in a spacious room with undecorated stark walls, furnished with nothing more than a couch, a desk, and an observation table. From the sparce furnishings,Doggett was doubtless that this place was a government-funded facility. Slowly, his memory was returning to him. He was an FBI Agent in the x-files division for a little more than a year now. He raked his hand through his hair, and was alarmed not to find his own thin curls, but straight hair—hair that seemed to be longer than his usual length. "What kinda party trick is this?" He mumbled, then looked to the wall opposite a door, and jumped at the reflection that wasn't his own. "Some kind of hypnotic suggestion could enduce this." He explained. "Some kind of hallucinogenic drug, maybe. Whatever the fuck it is, helluva party trick." The only person he knew who could rig up this sorta set-up... "Muldah! Come on now!" Doggett shouted. "I gotta get back! When she finds out about the case, the shit's gonna hit the fan!" He yelled, and started to head for the only visible door next to the observation window. Just then, a short, dark-eyed man with a slight build, dark, coily hair that was graying at the temples entered the room, and blocked his way. Doggett had no idea who the man was, but from the expression on the man's face, the man obviously knew him. "Who are you? What the hell kinda stunt are you trying to pull? Did Mulder put you up to this?" Doggett demanded as if it was one fell question. "Yes, I know it was Mulder." Doggett answered the man's surprised reaction, "he's the only one who would find out where to get a full-body condom costume." "Take it easy" Under his breath, the man mumbled "I shudda started a project pool on that question." Despite the man's garish ensemble--this one a glittering silver jacket and pants underneath a cranberry red top with a thin black tie and silver matching shoes--the man's demeanor and steady gaze bespoke authority and seriousness. "Sir, if you don't mind sayin'," Doggett was one of those rare people who had a forcefull drawl, "I'd like to know what's going on. Am I a prisoner here?" "No, you're not a prisoner." The man replied frankly. "Then give me my clothes and I'll be on my way. I have business to attend to." Doggett demanded, now visibly agitated. "So do we. Can you tell us your name?" The man persisted. "John Doggett. Can I go now?" Doggett huffed. "I wouldn't leave this room if I were you, Mr. Doggett." "Why the hell not?" "It's not what you think out there." "What's not what I think out there?" Doggett fumed, "Look, could you please get to the point, because I've got things to take care of." "What case were you referring to, Mr. Doggett?" "That information's classified, sir, leaked only on a need- to-know basis." "You are not helping your own situation at all by not trusting me, Mr. Doggett. I think you'll agree with me that we need to know. Now," the man restarted, "what sort of things do you need taken care of?" The man walked over to the desk and authoritatively sat down behind it, casually perusing the manila folder he came in with. He took an obstinate puff of the cigar he was carrying in his other hand and directed Doggett to the chair in front of the desk. "What is my own situation?" Doggett reverberated. "You tell us, Mr. Doggett." May 22, 2001 Newberry, SC; County Morgue ****************************** The Leaper heard shots ring out from his host's gun, and subsequently heard a resounding thud. Then a dazzling blue light surrounded him. Oblivion overtook consciousness for what seemed like a few seconds. Time, to Leaper Dr. Sam Becket lately was quickly becoming a moot point. He didn't know if the duration of the oblivion was really a few seconds or if it was years sped up into a few seconds...or what the case was. However long the unawareness lasted, he next found himself in the form of whomever soul he had changed places with--leapt into--immediately yanked into the life he was supposed to change within the next few days. It was a small relief to him that, while he couldn't remember much of anything before he stepped into an accelerator, he could remember the leaps--the lives he had lived, and changed for the better. He could at least vicariously pretend he had some sort of past. As hard as he tried not to, it always embittered Sam a little that he never got to see his work finished. It made the physicist wish sometimes that he could have a life of his own, just once. But leaps like his most recent, into Special Agent Dana Scully, made all his work and grief worth it. He was part of something greater than himself. He wanted to help her and her partner Fox Mulder with their work, but he knew he had his own job. By Whateveritwas's design, he was pinballed into the next existence, usually never to see the work he had done. After the leap was over, Sam, as usual, was gone without either a momento or a trace of the lives he effected, and only in two cases had he actually seen his work after he leapt, primarily because most people only have one defining moment that effects their lives forever. Fox Mulder, he would be reminding himself later, was not most people. The disorientation and feeling of lostness and ambiguity was something he still hadn't gotten used to...no matter how often he leapt, which was generally in bizarre situations--if they weren't bizarre situations, they usually evolved into bizarre situations. Or at least situations that seemed bizarre to Sam. To the person whose life he had swapped souls with, the situation probably wasn't that bizarre. Sam felt as though he had constant vertigo. It was a small miracle that he hadn't completely destroyed a life from the first moment of the leap yet. This time, after the oblivion faded, and the circle of bright blue light subsided, and he got his bearings, Sam found himself in a strangely familiar hallway. He had been there before, but he couldn't quite place where he was. It was almost a since of dejavu, but not quite. The dimly lit hallway wasn't alien to him. He felt as though he needed no assistance in figuring out which office was his, but he didn't know why. In his confusion, lost in musings, he hadn't noticed a girl limping toward him with a hand bound in a cast. He was fishing out his keys when she stopped at a door, obviously waiting for something. He looked at the paper he was holding, and nearly spilled the coffee he was holding. It was the Washington Post sports section, and the date said June 16, 2001. He knew when he was, and where he was. Well...at least the region. The girl was still waiting at the door. She looked at him, and Sam, in his distraction, hadn't realized that she obviously knew who he was. "Oh! I'm sorry, Miss..." Sam read her nametag. "Starkweather" He said, immediately embarrassed. She wore an FBI tag bearing the name "Jerilyn Starkweather." He couldn't quite place it, but there was something familiar in her hazel eyes. "You ok, Papa? Did you forget your keys this morning?" "Uh...yeah...I...uh...must have." He dug around in his pocket. "Oh, wait, here we go. I feel like an idiot now." Not far from the bottom of the stack of keys was the number that matched the office door. He opened it, and followed the young woman in. He looked around the office he just entered, and followed her unconscious cues that told Sam that he belonged there, too. One look at the office told him immediately where he was. He knew exactly whose desk the one in the back belonged to. Piled high with files and an open packet of sunflower seeds with the "I Want to Believe" poster and about 22 pencils on the ceiling. was Sam's first thought. Part of him was glad to be in familiar territory, the other part wondered what had happened to Mulder to need altering. He walked behind the desk, put the paper down, half-expecting Scully to come through the door at any minute The young woman was eyeing him quizzically, eyes averting from him to the desk next to his. "What on earth are you doing?" "I'm...uh...sitting at my desk. What do you think?" "That's...not your desk." She averted her eyes to the desk next to the one he had put the paper down on. "I--uh--forgot, is all." "Forgot? Are you ok?" "Yeah, I'm--uh...just a bit tired, is all." He glanced at her awkwardly, wondering what was going on, and cautiously moved over to the next desk, which was meticulously neat decorated only with a picture of a little boy with blond hair and striking blue eyes on it. At that moment, he noticed a familiar petite redhead open the door. "The results came back from the lab, definitely from the same species. Same properties, everything." He forgot at that split second that he was supposed to be pretending to be someone else, and rushed up to give her a warm greeting. It was really nice not having to guess at people's identities. Over Doggett's shoulder, Scully exchanged confused glances with Starkweather. Starkweather circled around her ear, and busied herself with work. "What was that for, Agent Doggett?".... "What was that for, Agent Doggett? You ok?" "Yeah, I'm fine." He tried to stifle a chuckle when he remembered how that was Scully's choice phrase in those sort of situations. "Anyway, I just got the lab results back. Looks like it's the same species that was in South Carolina is the same species on the oil rig, and the same species from Scotland. Too bad the evidence is inadmissible." "Evidence?" "...of alien colonization?" Scully answered in question. "You ok Doggett?" Starkweather was saying, looking obviously irritated. "I'd expect this from the Deputy Mayor, but not you." "Alien colonization..." He mumbled, then again under his breath, "Oh boy!" Out loud, Sam said to the young teenaged-looking woman. "The Deputy Mayor???" "That's Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder, the artist formerly known as Agent Fox Mulder," Al, as usual, appeared unannounced, scaring the bejesus out of Sam, as usual. "They've changed things a bit down in the dungeon." Al looked Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather up and down. "Man, what is this, "Bring Your Daughter to Work Day?"" "What?" Sam said aloud. "Jesus, Doggett, what's with you?" Starkweather was openly staring at him, her feline eyes studying him, unnerving Sam greatly. "You'd think YOU were with Ben last night at Hooters drinking, not me." "Ben?" "Benjamin Starkweather, Al whacked his hand-held console. It squealed until it produced the information he needed. "That's her husband." "Husband?" Sam said incredulously. "Ahhh. I see we've graduated to multi-syllables, good job." Starkweather quipped. "I thought you were being the responsible agent, studying case files while doing laundry." "Sa ---am!" Al hissed. "Make an excuse, get to somewhere private so I can brief you before these G-women think you're completely loco." "Um, excuse me," Sam turned to leave. "Where are you going Agent Doggett?" Scully asked. "Um... the bathroom." "That's creative," Al groaned as the glowing door opened up behind him. He stepped inside, "Meet you in the john," he said before he disappeared. Sam smiled wanly at Scully and Starkweather and rushed out the door. Starkweather turned to Scully and said "My first day back after having the snot beat out of me and my partner has a major case of the weirds. Lovely." "Today is June 16, 2002, and you are..." Al whipped out the console, "FBI Special Agent John Doggett" Sam interjected, and looked in the mirror to see a man with copper hair, an honest, stern face with dazzling blue eyes. "I'm supposed to get Mulder back on the X-files." Al shook his head. Most of the time these days, Sam could figure out with relative ease who he was. Al's briefing lately was just one of those protocols. "Not quite." "So what is Do--am I doing back on the X-Files? I thought I changed history earlier. And what happened to Mulder?" "Hell if I know." Al shook his head, "Ziggy's a smart-ass computer, but she ain't no Einstein. As far as our researchers can tell, our project only goes as far as the human race. Mars...or wherever E.T. comes from...is just a little bit out of our district. As to what you're doing back in the X-Files, we dunno. Ziggy says all the cases are under Military lock and key." Al gawked "Military?" Then out in the air. "Goushie, you sure this is right?" "Why would the military have FBI cases?" "Who knows?" Al shrugged. "Apparently a few good men are taking a newfound interest in little green ones. As for Mulder..." Al punched a few buttons into the console, it flashed different colors and whirred, and Al's eyes widened. "They're gray" Sam couldn't help himself. "One leap on the x-files, and suddenly you're quoting Mulderisms. This is weird. Ziggy's got a death date on him about a year ago. Huh...musta been one of those clerical errors, or something. I guess he pissed the wrong people off down at the courthouse. Anyway, according to our FBI files, he bowed outta the FBI after an incident involving alien oil, and fills the Deputy Mayor position down at the courthouse." "Have you been able to get anything from this Doggett guy?" "No. He's more skeptical than Scully ever was when she was there. Remember that agent who paid us a visit your last leap?" Sam nodded. "That was him? Sam nodded toward the reflection. "Then why does he not know what's going on?" "He hasn't been there yet, at least to him. Remember?" "Any idea at all as to what I'm supposed to do here? Maybe the court records have something." "Let's see here..." Al punched a few buttons into the console, which lit up and squealed. "Hey! That's great! Scully's got a kid now! Her and Mulder must have been busy bunnies. I guess doctors can be wrong." "Anything on Starkweather?" "Ziggy says..."...again a punch of a few buttons "Starkweather the daughter of Admiral Bailey--I know that guy Sam. His wife's a Senator. He's a bit of a nutcase, but a nice guy. "She was something of a child prodigy, but she's 28, an ex-Airman, married to Ben Starkweather...works at Carter, Spangle and Adams law firm...and...uh oh! Is found dead in a few days...and *Mulder* is found--guilty-- of his murder. Mulder?" Al sat there looking at the console making sure he hadn't read it wrong. "Mulder!" Sam gawked "That can't be right...he may piss people off, but I just don't see him murdering anyone." "I'm with you. Spooky spends too much energy hunting E.T.'s and being a horses ass to plan a murder." "Go see what you can find out from Doggett. I'll try and find out what I can from his partners." "You do that. Hang in there, Sam. I'll get back to you as soon as I find anything." Before Sam could say anything, Al was gone to see if the subject could offer any information. Assistant Director Skinner's Office June 16, 2001 9:15 AM Starkweather let herself into Skinner's office without knocking. She didn't even acknowledge Skinner, so hot was her wrath. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded her spouse. "Agent Starkweather," Skinner growled. "Jerilyn," Ben spoke calmly. "This is official business. Don't get your pantyhose in a wad." "Well, if this business if official, I strongly recommend you refrain from using inappropriate phrases and to address me with the respect a federal agent deserves, Counselor." Ben scowled. Jerilyn, self-proclaimed queen of nicknaming, ever since their dating days, had called him 'Counselor' as a term of endearment. Now, it sounded obscene. "For Christ's sake, Jerilyn," Ben leapt out of his seat and turned to face his wife, his swarthy, handsome face twisted in anger. "As usual, you're blowing this out of fucking proportion. I need that goddamned file to prove that the oil rig was in gross violation of the Environmental Protection Act. Without it, I'm dead in the water." "Other people are going to be dead if that file become public domain." "Jesus, Jerilyn!" Ben and Jerilyn were nose to nose now. "Will you lay off the "tough bitch FBI" crap! It's just another FBI file!" "The hell it is! It's not just another FBI file. It's an X- File. An extremely sensitive X-File, you dumb, arrogant shit!" Skinner had enough. "STARKWEATHER!" he snapped. Both Ben and Jerilyn faced him. "WHAT?" they snapped in unison. Skinner groaned and tossed his glasses on his desk. He rubbed his temples as he asked as nicely as his temper would allow, "Would you two sit down? I have questions I need answered before I decide if that information can be released or not." Like two bickering children pleading with their father, Starkweather and Starkweather overlapped each other: "Oh come on, Assistant Director! Sir you can not be seriously considering... That information CAN NOT be released!" Jerilyn cried. "Sir, with all due respect, I need those files! Several men were killed on that rig, many more lives are at stake. I need those files to close them down!" "SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!!!!!" Skinner roared. Meekly, husband and wife sat down. "Thank you." Skinner said civilly. Agent Starkweather," Skinner began. "Did you have any foreknowledge of your husband's involvement with this case against the oil company?" "Sir," Jerilyn struggled for control. "As of last night, I knew my husband was prosecuting an oil company for negligance. I had no idea that it was THIS oil company until you called me." "Is that true?" he asked Ben. "Absolutely." Ben agreed. "For the most part," he glowered at Jerilyn. "We keep our work separate from home life, since we both have issues of confidentially with our respected jobs." "Then how did you make the connection?" "Simple detective work, really," Ben said modestly. "Through my research I discovered that the sole survivors of the explosion was the former Agent Mulder and the current Agent John Doggett, who, as it so happens, is my wife's partner. I merely put two and two together." "And how will having this case file assist with your prosecution?" "After I thoroughly investigate the FBI's findings, I plan on subpoenaing Agent Doggett and Deputy Mayor Mulder to testify." "NO!" Jerilyn leapt out of her case. "Ben you can't!" "Agent Starkweather, you're out of line," Skinner growled. But once again, Skinner was ignored as Starkweather versus Starkweather, Round Two, ensued. "Jerilyn, they are the only ones who know what really happened out there!" "They risked their lives out there. Mulder lost his job because he was out there! Putting them on the stand, ordering them to reveal information that almost killed them once already would be potentially life-threatening to them, not mention that their careers would be ruined! Mulder can kiss being Deputy Mayor goodbye and Doggett would lose every chance he has of succeeding Skinner!" "Agent Starkweather, Mr. Starkweather..." Skinner tried futilely to retake the conversation. "But what about the lives lost on that rig! What about the biological hazard that's still floating around the debris out in the Gulf? Over thirty men are dead because of this company's irresponsibility plus all of the sea life that was destroyed? How can we honor their deaths if we can't bring their murderers to justice. Jerilyn, you told me once that it was your job to catch the bad guys and it was my job to put them away. Why are you fighting against me from doing my job? I thought you were after the truth?" "I am after the truth," Jerilyn fumed. "I'm fighting you because you have no fucking clue about the true nature of what happened out there! I read the file! Ben, you'd do more damage dragging Mulder and Doggett into this!" Jerilyn began pacing. "We don't know exactly what happened. But new information has been brought to light that WE need to investigate. This is so much bigger than you realize. "Agent Starkweather, sit down," Skinner stood up. "But the only thing solid we GOT on them is their environmental irresponsibility! It doesn't matter HOW we put them away, just as long as they go! Help me, Jerilyn." "I won't help you by condemning Doggett and Mulder to death." "I thought you hated Mulder." "Just because I don't like him doesn't mean I want him dead! Besides, he saved my sorry ass! Is that how you want to repay the man who rescued your wife? By making him a sitting duck? You make me sick." "Put a sock in it, Agent Starkweather!" Skinner yelled. Jerilyn finally shut up. "That's enough from you. You may return to work, agent." His voice was flint. Jerilyn said curtly. "Yes sir." She hissed at Ben, "This isn't over." "See you at home, pumpkin," Ben responded snidely. "Agent Starkweather, you are dismissed," Skinner barked like a drill sergeant. Jerilyn turned on her heel and left, even more enraged than before. "And you-" Skinner said to Ben as soon as Jerilyn shut the door. "-have no call to be invading my office, giving ME commands. Extradition order or not, I don't have to give you a damn thing if it endangers national security, especially after the way you just spoke to one of my top agents." "She's not just an agent, she's my wife." "All the more reason, you cocky little shit." Skinner said. "I don't give a damn who you work for or who you're married to. Bring all the court orders you want, I'll find a way to block them all, that is a promise." "Sir," Ben said. "If I win this case, Mulder's name is cleared and he can get reinstated, did you even think of that?" "I have no use for dead agents." Besides, after Mulder failing the fitness requirements when his mysterious ailments started up, there was no way Kersh was going to let him back in. But Skinner kept that to himself. Ben stood up. "Thank you for your time sir," he said curtly. "My wife spoke highly of you. She said you were a reasonable, sensible man." "I am a reasonable, sensible man. That's why your attempts to scare me won't work just like your attempts to butter me up with your marriage contacts didn't scare me earlier." "I will get that file." "Not if I have a say about it." "Actually," Ben said pleasantly, checking his watch. "After this interview, you probably don't. I have a ten-thirty appointment with Deputy Director Kersh. Have a good morning." And Ben took his leave. When Ben left, Skinner put his glasses on and dialed his phone. "The Deputy Mayor please." "May I ask who's calling?" A perky voice chirped. "Tell him it's Assistant Director Skinner and it's important." A minute passed before he heard the familiar sardonic greeting. "Hey Skin-man." "Mulder, what's your schedule like? We need to talk, we have a major problem." "Problems? At the FBI. No way." "Mulder, don't push my buttons today. I have legal papers in front of me ordering to release the oil rig X-File into public domain for a legal battle." "I have a City Council meeting at one. Give me a half hour to finish up some paperwork and phone calls and I'll be there." "Good," Skinner grunted, hung up, then picked up the phone and dialed again. "Scully." "Scully, I need to see you and Agent Doggett in my office in thirty minutes. We have a major situation on our hands." "Do we want to include Starkweather?" "No. Don't be late." He hung up on more time, then picked up one last time that morning to tell Kimberly to hold all calls. "Yes sir." Skinner hung up the phone for good now. "Good God..." In Skinner's office, Sam sat next to Scully, completely bewildered. He still didn't know a thing about Doggett's life, except that once he had a little boy, but Sam didn't even know how the boy died. And now he had been rushed up to Skinner's office about a "situation." <> Sam groaned to himself as they waited for Mulder. <> he silently implored his holographic friend. Mulder burst through the door. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized breezily. "Traffic was a bitch." "Have a seat Mulder, I'll bring you all up to speed." Skinner said. Mulder eyed Sam, sitting next to Scully, for a minute before taking a seat. Skinner groaned. After the nice little domestic spat he witnessed between the Starkweathers, he had no desire to be a referee in a pissing contest between Doggett and Mulder. And of course, Sam had no idea why he received such a dirty look from Mulder. <> Sam wondered. "Here's the situation, well, more of a clusterfuck." Skinner lapsed into his Marine-lingo. "Agent Starkweather's husband is prosecuting the oil rig company for environmental violations... <> Sam wondered. <> "... He wants us to release the X-File, he wants to subpoena Mulder and Doggett. He's up in Kirsch's office right now, pleading his case." Scully folded her hands as if in prayer. Sam leaned back into the sofa and tried to piece together the puzzle pieces he just received <> "Should we be concerned for Starkweather's safety?" he asked. "Agent Starkweather was not with the X-Files at that time, I'm more concerned for yours and Mulder's safety," Skinner said curtly. "Not Agent Starkweather, sir. Her husband," Sam stood up. "Look, if I'm right," <> "Ben is brand new to law, he landed a big case that he thinks will make him big, but he's in over his head. If there are people out there who wants to keep this quiet, wouldn't they go after the prosecutor rather than us?" "Sir," Scully spoke up for the first time. "He has a point." "Duly taken," Skinner agreed. Sam had a brainstorm. "Sir, let me run back to the office quick to get the file. I'll bring it up and we can go through it word by word... so, uh, we can create a coherent argument why this can't be used in a public trial... the trial is going to be open to media, I assume?" "A young, cocky lawyer wouldn't have it any other way." Mulder said dryly. Sam excused himself and made his narrow escape. Hopefully, he would have time to at least skim through the file so he could have a minimal clue on what everyone was talking about and maybe figure out why Benjamin Starkweather was going to be murdered and how Mulder was about to be framed and also hopefully find a way to stop it... When Sam left, Mulder turned to Scully and said "Is it just me or is the Puppy-Man successfully shed his charming Southern-New York hybrid accent in favor of the bland Indianan nuances?" Scully sighed. "He's having a rough day, Mulder. Let him be." Sam fairly raced down the hall to the elevator. With a little luck, if he could find a way to stop the x-file from becoming part of the testimony, he could stop the murder from happening, getv the x-files would as back to normal as the x-files got, and get out of there. "Al!" He hissed into the air in the elevator. Thankfully, Al appeared. "Mulder gave me a dirty look earlier. All I did was sit." "Next to Scully?" Sam nodded sheepishly. "That explains it. That, and he sees you as Doggett, remember?" "What's the deal with the oil rig?" "On Mulder and Doggett's official final case together. Apparently, they were the sole survivors on an oil rig that had been tainted with oil that harbored alien DNA. During the invasion of the body snatchers, there was a giant explosion that Mulder was blamed for. The explosion destroyed the oil rig, and he was 86'ed from the FBI as a result." "Doggett got Mulder fired?" "No...no...that's what I thought to, Sam, but as much as Mulder and Doggett piss on each other, Doggett insists that Mulder took the fall for him. "So that explains why Mulder's not on the x-files anymore." Sam was now in the office, Starkweather was busying herself with filing the report on their last case. "Not entirely, but there will be time for the rundown later. Right now, there's more important things to worry about." "And what's that?" "Unless you do something *FAST* the case is going to go to court, and a lot of people are going to be killed, and the idiot Director Kersch will close the door on the x-files for good." "The case report for Scotland--? Doggett, are you ok?" Starkweather answered questioningly. "I'm--uh--fine. Case report--hey, do you think you can get the files for me on the last case Mulder and I worked on, the one with the oil rig? I can't seem to remember where I put it." Sam feigned rummaging through the files. In light of what the day was, Starkweather decided to forego the usual snide remarks. "When Scully came in, you would have thought *she* was the one gone for a month. What was that all about?" Starkweather handed him the file. "She got in a fight with a big bad alien bounty hunter and almost got herself killed. Mulder was in the area and rescued her." Al prompted. "Just--uh--happy to see her, that's all. Sam was growing uneasy with Starkweather's suspicious glances averted in his direction. In a flash, he had for the second time that hour, a brainstorm. "You think you can stop your husband from taking the case?" "Look, I'm watching your back, Doggett. My idiot lawyer husband is not going to run you and Mulder through the mud if I have anything to do with it." "I'm not worried about Dog--me or Mulder. I'm only worried for him. He's a fresh prosecutor, which makes him a prime target for a big oil company like the one we're working with." "Yeah, he'll be fish food." Al butted in. "I think you've been reading too many John Grisham books lately." She snorted and inadvertently went back to her typing. "I wouldn't be too sure about that." Sam said, and with that, was on his way back to Skinner's office. Starkweather looked up from her typing when Sam left, absently nibbling a pen cap. Al hovered about her, lingering for a bit. Despite her massive accolades and credentials, she looked so sweet and young, too young to handle all the insanity that was being thrown at her. "Kid, I know you can't hear me," Al said, "but we're doing everything we can so you and Benny can get old and wrinkly together, okay? You just hang in there." Starkweather turned her head suddenly and stared wide eyed into the void where the hologram only Sam was supposed to see was standing. "Kid?" Al said nervously. "You CAN'T hear me, right?" "Hello?" Starkweather stood up, her voice trembling but a hair. "Is somebody down here?" She walked "through" Al and to the door, looking out. "I CAN hear you..." she turned back around and looked around the apparently empty office. "Where are you?" <> Al thought as he punched the keys on his console that opened the door to leave the hologram room. <> he thought as he disappeared. He decided he better do some more research into the enigmatic creature he was leaving behind. ********************************* Back to the future Al slammed the door of his office, shrugged off his garish coat and tore off his tie. He booted up his computer and connected to Ziggy's mainframe. He punched in a few commands and Ziggy started surfing. "Come on, come on..." he muttered as Ziggy combed through millions and millions of files. "Search completed. Downloading now," Ziggy's snotty voice purred out of Al's computer speakers. "Thank you sweetheart," Al always felt silly flirting with a computer, but Sam, before his maiden leap, had insisted how important it was to maintain Ziggy's ego. "Download complete. Shall I start reading now Admiral?" "Please," Al said, leaning back in his chair. Ziggy began to drone "Admiral, did you forget to unformat your brainwaves from Mulder's?" "Yeah - no, oh geez, we didn't!" Al sat up. "Cripes, it's a good thing Mulder wasn't around when I was, he'd see me and everyone would think he's batty than he already is. But, hey, Ziggy, how does that explain Agent Starkweather hearing me? And why didn't she hear me the first time I dropped in?" "Because there is an 65.5% chance that Fox Mulder and Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather may be blood relatives." "WHAT????" Al spluttered. "How??" "As of right now, there is only one inconclusive DNA test on blood samples taken from the murder scene and from the last person to see Benjamin Starkweather alive. There is no further concrete documented evidence on that unfortunately, since Fox Mulder is still slated to be killed once he's arrested and now Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather will be killed three days afterwards." "WHAT???" Al spluttered again. "When did THAT happen?" "A few moments ago, history was inadventdently changed after Fox Mulder's conversation with Jerilyn a few moments ago." "Aw, great!!! Mulder! You numbskull!!! Whadd'ya say to her!!!!" he shouted vainly. "This is one chick you don't wanna piss off!!!" "Admiral," Ziggy said pleasantly. "I would suggest you return to the aid of Dr. Beckett, he's trying to break up the fight as we speak." Just then Goushie burst through the door, "Al, I'm to bother you, but we need you in the imaging chamber, we're having problems with Mr. Doggett." He scurried out again. Al stood calmly in his office, chewing on his cigar. "This is why I'm losing my hair," he concluded. Doggett would have to simmer for just a bit. Al was all set to go help Sam, but was derailed by Goushie. "No, Al, you gotta go talk to Doggett now!" "B-b-but," Al stammered as Goushie bodily dragged him away going into the hologram room. "No, man, he hurt himself, you gotta go talk to him." "Hurt himself, how?" "He busted through the two-way mirror! Cut up his-um, Sam's head, he's getting stitched up. Man, you gotta deal with him now, before he runs! He's only stayin' put 'cause security's pointing a gun at him while the doc is sewing him up!" "God damn stupid Marines!" Al swore and ran down the hall as fast as his little Italian legs could carry him. Doggett was getting more than a little irritated with the man. He sensed that there were things being kept from him. Doggett kept his tone steadily angry. The agent knew from experience it did no good to allow his anger and confusion to get the better of him. Al was looking down at the folder he came in with. "With all due respect, sir, but where the fuck do you think you get off? You want me to give you information on a classified case, when I have no idea where I am, why you're holding me, or who you are." "I can't tell that. If I told you, the implications of doing so might change everyone in this building, not to mention everyone around you. Believe me Agent Doggett, we are not holding you captive, but it is in your best interest, and in the best interest of everyone else concerned that you stay put." Al's tone was calm and commanding. "Can you at least tell me who you are?" "That, I can do. I am Admiral Calavici." Al extended a hand in greeting. "Aw, Christ! A seaman." Doggett grumbled under his breath and grudgingly accepted the handshake. "What, the Marines have a problem with the Navy?" "No, not at all, we love the Navy," Doggett quipped, "subs make great sandwiches. I caught that movie, too, Admiral." "Are Horses ass lessons involved in FBI training, Doggett?" Doggett came back with something Mulder said to him a few months ago. "Naw," Doggett drawled "just comes with the territory. If that is all, can I please get my clothes and leave? Like I said, I have business to attend to. I wasn't kidding when I said shit was about to hit the fan." "You don't wanna do that, Agent Doggett." "Why the hell not? Would you please stop giving me the runaround and tell me what is going on here?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "In my line of work, believe me...I think I would." Fed up with the man at the desk who was apparently not cooperating, Doggett bolted up from his chair, and for the first time, he noticed a reflection in the mirror that was not his own. In the Plexiglas of the observation mirror staring back at him was a tall young man with broad shoulders, dark hair with a white streak descending from the beginnings of a receding hairline, five o'clock stubble grazing a pronounced chin. He thought for an instant that Mulder was watching the whole thing on the other side of the observation mirror. "That's a neat trick, Mulder, getting an actor to do a mirror routine with me. Or did you get Langley to rig up a computer composite of somebody else's face with motion detectors? I'm impressed." "It's not a trick, Agent Doggett. As much as it looks like it, Mulder didn't do this. It would be a lot easier for all concerned if you would please tell us what that case is all about that you were working on last. You would be helping a lot of people. The sooner you help us, the sooner we will let you get back home. Can you tell me how it is that you were instated into the x-files?" "I was assigned to the x-files in may last year to find the division founder, Fox Mulder. After his death and res-- recovery, my partner, Dana Scully, tried to get him reinstated, but because of his poor health, he failed the physical requirements set by the Bureau, and Assistant Director Walter Skinner recruited the addition of Dr. Jerilyn Starkweather, who was instated after a resurgence of x-file cases. About a month ago, Agent Starkweather was attacked as a direct result of our last case, and by coincidence, Scully's former partner was in the vacinity, and came to her aid. "What do you mean *death*?" Al queried. He thought that was just a clerical error. "I was a pall bearer for his funeral, Admiral. We found 'im dead in the woods of Oregon after an exhaustive six-month search." Doggett found it odd that this man was accepting everything he had just said. Al stormed into the First Aid room. The medic was almost finished up with her work on Doggett-in-Sam's body's injury. "Alright, muy macho man," Al barked. "You and me gotta talk. If you don't cooperate with us right now, both Mulder and Starkweather will be sleeping with the fishes..." "I was just told that I am in the year 2011 in *ROSWELL* NM." Doggett began incredulously. "Within the laws of physics, it is impossible to be transported instantaneously through space in a matter of seconds. Let alone time. For arguments' sake. If I were to say that this were all possible, how is it that my actions effect what hasn't even happened yet. With all due respect and games aside, why the fuck would I wanna believe someone who's holding me hostage, Popeye?" "Because, Sherlock, there's a great big gun still pointed at your head right now, and you just broke our observation mirror, that's why. This was completely unnecessary. We are only holding you hostage for your own protection. Jesus, Doggett! You're more stubborn than Mulder ever was! If you would trust us just a little, none of this would hafta happen." "I can't affoard to trust anyone in my line of work." "Listen, Doggett. As against you as you obviously think I am, I'm on your side. I'm trying to help your future situation here, I'm trying to save your partner's life, and I'm trying to save Mr. TrustNoOne himself. Me, Dr. Becket, and all the other employees involved in this venture are risking our lives --our futures--our entire existances--for you and the rest of the Scooby gang down in that x-file dungeon. If it were up to me, your ass would be grass right now, but it's not up to me." "Tell me, please." Doggett implored. "I'm all ears." "No kiddin'...I wasn't gonna say anything...but...damn... think you can fly with those?" "WHO IS IT UP TO ADMIRAL!?" Doggett demanded. "It's up to Him." Al pointed his cigar emphatically upward. "So, it's up to Him, huh?" Doggett echoed incredulously. "It's up to Him that the x-files office stay open. Tell me this then. Was it up to Him to take Luke? Was it up to Him to take Mulder and leave me with the x-files? Was all that, and every other tragedy you and Dr. Becket couldn't stop up to Him, too?" "Look, life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is either stupid or trying to sell you something. I can't tell you how many times I've laid awake at night asking the same goddamn questions myself, but if you wanna find the Truth that's out there, Doggett, you're going to have to trust me. Any more damage from you, and I swear to God I'll have you sedated." Al said, leaving the room, making his way to the imaging chamber. In the present ************** After the meeting, Mulder offered to take Scully out for a bite to eat. With the swamped cases, she decided it wouldn't be a bad idea--especially since she could use the opportunity to attempt to talk sense into Mulder. Not to mention the fact that she had no intention of facing Starkweather after Mulder's outburst. If they were going to get anywhere on the case, then it would not do to make an enemy of Starkweather. Once at the restaraunt, Mulder acted like the previous meeting with Skinner hadn't happened. He rattled on to Scully about something he saw on T.V. the other night, and the perks about his new office, and asked her about Boo. "Do you think you were a little bit hard on Agent Starkweather back there?" Scully suggested, biting into her Caesar salad. Mulder reflected for a moment, and shook his head as he bit into his cheeseburger. "I don't think she's being up front with either you or Puppy-Man, Scully. I think she *did* know what was going on. *Exactly* and wanted to use that against me because of how I treated her mother." "Mulder," Scully countered, "You don't know that for sure. I'm really surprised at you. Usually you're a good judge of people. I honestly don't think she's got any tricks up her sleeve." "So you're taking her side now?" Mulder demanded childishly. "She's on our team, Mulder. She could help her--us--if you give her a chance and stop being an idiot where she's concerned." "I'm sorry, Scully." He pouted, shoving a handfull of fries drowned in ketchup in his mouth. "Just didn't know who else to blame for all of this. She seemed to be the likely choice." "You of *all* people should know something about things not being what they seem. Maybe you could make peace with her. Please, Mulder," Scully pleaded, "just swallow your pride and let her shed light on this case. She's like you in a lot of ways. In a parallel universe, you two might even be chummy." "In a parallel universe, Elvis would be a politician." Mulder quipped. He then rose from the table, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I gotta get back to work. I'll see you later to night?" He said, leaving money on the table. Scully got up and nodded with a smile, following him out the door. She hoped she had convinced him enough to amend his previous damage. As Skinner waited for Doggett to get back, he decided to take the opportunity to avoid any further squabbles in front of his desk that day. He hated acting like a parent with middle-aged adults, and hated being treated like a parent by his top agents even more. It was a delicate situation though, because Mulder held the power now; and as much as Skinner hated to admit it, Mulder and he were no longer superior/subordinate. It was a delicate situation not because he enjoyed wielding power over his former agent , but because legally, there was nothing more he could do for him and his quest. Skinner prayed silently to the god of authority and command that the man still respected him as a colleague enough to listen. Not that Fox Mulder had actually listened while that working relationship *had* existed, but it helped to at least get his attention. "Mulder, I'm on your side--and as long as I'm in this office, I'll do anything I can to help you out, and anything in my power to keep my promises." Mulder nodded a thanks. "But, you have to do your part too. It's not going to do anybody any good to have an argument loud enough for Kersh to hear between you and Doggett. The D.D. wants my ass in Florida ASAP because of the oil rig clusterfuck. I'm doing everything I can to stay put as long as possible. But, please--" he paused here to avert a glance in Scully's direction "for everyone concerned," he pleaded in all seriousness. "Do us all a favor and grow the hell up before Doggett gets back." "Duly noted, sir." The tone in Mulder's voice was something like an apologetic whimper. He might as well have had a tail between his legs. Not long after, Kimberly announced Doggett, and Mulder took his rightful seat next to Scully, giving Sam a <"Take that!"> look, to which Scully and Skinner both shot warning glances. Mulder had a jab ready for him for being gone so long, but wisely decided against it after considering the wrath of Scully later. "Did you find anything Agent?" Skinner demanded "Sir, do you honestly think that testimony sounding like it came from a b-grade science fiction movie is credible material?" "Credible or not," Mulder challenged, "all this prosecutor needs to convince a jury of our peers is proof beyond a questionable doubt." "I don't see anything in this report that shows that. I don't think this testimony is a valid argument that would hold up in any court. It would only buy Starkweather stage time." "Starkweather?" Mulder puzzled; his brow furrowed in thought trying to connect the name. "Benjamin Starkweather is the prosecutor for this case." Scully prompted. "Any relation to Jerilyn?" "By law." Mulder bolted up from his seat, and at the speed of bullets out of a machine gun told Skinner "I gotta go to the restroom." "Talk about the power of suggestion." Sam said, as he remembered the last time Mulder had feigned a full bladder around him, and decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to follow. "Mulder, hang on a sec!" Sam called after him, but Mulder had already closed the elevator door. Sam futily banged on the door and then immediately got into the next one. He could hear the argument as he approached the office. "Say what you want, Starkweather, but you set me up." Mulder hissed "I had absolutely no idea until last night that my husband took that case. I had no idea until two fucking hours ago that my husband's case involved you." Starkweather's defensive voice remained controlled and furious. "You wanna get me back for what I did to your mother." Mulder persisted. Sam peeked just inside the door now. Mulder and Starkweather were as eye-to-eye as the two got. The only time Sam remembered anger being this palpable when he walked in on his little sister Katie and his older brother Tom having a huge fight. "You set me up because you want to punish me for badgering her about aliens during her last lucid moments, and you're dragging Doggett down with me. Look--this is *OUR* fight. No need to bring Puppy-Man into this." "I am not going to defend myself to you. Deputy Mayor may I remind you that this is no longer your office." Starkweather replied icily. "Mulder, she can help us. It's not a good idea to piss her off." coaxed Sam. "Next time you accuse someone, Mr. Mulder, it might not be a bad idea to make sure your finger isn't barking up the wrong ass." "If you think I'm done here, you've got another thing coming." Mulder growled, and stormed passed Sam in a huff back to Skinner's office to finish the meeting. This argument would not look good in Mulder's defense if he couldn't stop the murder. Later that afternoon... FBI Employee Only Gym and Weight Room At the end of the workday, Sam wandered into the giant gymnasium. Two feds were running laps on the track around the basketball court, discussing a case. A few members of the "good old boys" club were taking a quick break from playing three on three on one half of the court. On the other half of the court, Starkweather was hitting tennis balls against the wall, almost as good as a pro. Sam paused and felt his breath catch in his throat. When he first saw her, she looked like a girl masquerading in one of her mother's business suits, despite her carefully applied make-up and her hair pulled tightly back in an unmerciless bun. Watching her smash the tennis racket, a very nice Winston Titanium racket at that, time and time again, Sam realized it would be a mistake to ever, ever think that she was physically weak. If she looked like a teenager, she then definitely looked like a healthy teenager involved in every competitive sport at her high school. There wasn't an once of fat on her body, she had ripplings of muscle on all the right places without losing any of the supple curves which made her irresistibly feminine. Sam was also surprised by the length of her hair, out of it's rigid military style bun and pulled up into a flowing pony tail. As Sam approached her, he overheard the sniggering comments about her physique from the "old school" male feds. Sam shot them an evil glance, forgetting that he possessed Doggett's serious craggy face, tall, lean, menacing build and piercing glacial blue eyes, which shamed the "boys" into resuming their game. Starkweather, not realizing Sam-in-Doggett's body, was less than five steps away, slam the ball into the wall, but missed it's return. Sam caught the tennis ball easily and strolled up to her. "Looking for this?" He asked as he held the ball up to her. Starkweather accepted it, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. "Hi," she panted, bending over to catch her breath. "I saw you favoring your right foot," Sam, ever the doctor, told her. "You better be careful you don't want to hurt yourself again." "I know, I know," she said straighten up. She flexed the fingers barely poking out of her cast. "I'll be glad to get this damn thing off. Thank God I'm ambidextrous." "Quite a first day back, huh?" Sam said casually. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "Starkweather, we got to talk." "I know, I know," she brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her face. "I screwed up royally today and I don't understand why. I was doing so good watching what I say when I started here, but today, man, I don't know. I got pissed off and basically did what I did that got me in trouble in Minneapolis. I opened my mouth and sewage just spewed out. I'm so damn mad right now, Doggett. I don't know who I want to kill first, Mulder or my husband." "You've got to stay focused, Starkweather," Sam told her. "There's too many lives at stake, you can not let your personal problems interfere, no matter what Mulder or Ben or whoever says or does that sets you off." Starkweather looked at her tennis shoes. "Listen," Sam started. "why don't you go get cleaned up and dressed-" he wasn't really comfortable having a heart to heart with Starkweather wearing only a work-out bra and a pair of Air Force issued sweatpants. "-and we'll go..." he was about to suggest dinner, but then he figured she wasn't exactly a fancy restaurant type of girl "... grab a beer and a burger or something and sit and try to make sense of this, figure out a game plan." <> he mentally added. Starkweather looked up at him with her hazel puppy dog eyes. "Okay, give me about twenty minutes or so. I'll meet you here." She winked. When she walked away, Sam realized why those eyes looked so familiar.... Mulder... "Oh boy..." he said aloud as he sat down on a bench. Starkweather returned to the gym twenty-two minutes later, carrying her briefcase and her gym bag. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. Her hair, finally freed from all restrictions, flowed over her shoulders, almost reaching her posterior. She wore a simple gray T-shirt from the Gap and a pair of well-loved Calvin Klein jeans. She was sans make-up and jewelry, save a simple diamond solitaire with the wedding band sodered on. Sam looked down at his sober black suit and fiddled with his blue, white and slate gray tie. "Looks like I'm over dressed," he joked, reaching to relieve her of the burden of carrying the heavy gym bag. Starkweather gave him an disarming smile. "Let's go," she said. "I'm hungry." She relinquished the bag to him. They wandered downtown DC until they found a pub that seemed somewhat deserted, with the exception of one or two bar flies hovering around the beautiful oak bar. Sam and Starkweather opted for a secluded table in the far back. A cheery server took their drink orders, Starkweather, a Bud Light and Sam, in dire need of a stiff drink, a Jack Daniels on the rocks. "Alright Starkweather," Sam said after the server brought them their adult beverages and promised to be back in a few minutes for their meal orders, "talk to me." "I didn't know that Ben was prosecuting that oil rig case, Doggett. No matter what Mulder thinks, you have to believe me." "I do believe you, that's besides the point," Sam insisted, resisting a weird urge to clasp her small hands in his. "All that matters is keeping your husband safe. We have every reason to believe that the people who want to keep this hushed up are going to try to come after Ben." "And the people who hushed up the Scotland case," Starkweather said quietly. "I didn't get a chance to tell Scully before she left, but as I was finishing up my report on the jet plane crash there, I stumbled across a coincidence that may not be a coincidence." When Sam asked what, she continued, a little reluctantly. "Andrews, the air base where the plane and the deceased captain were originally stationed and flew out has a major fuel contract with that same oil company. So I did a little digging this afternoon after my chat with the fucking Deputy Mayor and guess what? Two other air bases also have contracts with them. Lackland AFB, where I and the majority of new recruits do their Basic and Tech School training, and Luke AFB in Arizona, where I did my last two years as active airman. I bet if we do some more scrounging, we'll find some more mysterious plane wrecks. And when we do, we can probably gather enough evidence to bring them up on federal charges of willful destruction of government property with intent of murdering American service men. A big juicy federal case which would blow Ben's sad little civil suit out of the water. Plus with a federal case involving breach of national security, we can secure a gag order, which means you and Mulder and my idiot husband will be safe as churches on Easter Sunday." "How long would the research take?" Sam asked. "Too long, but I figure, I start now, pull a couple of all- nighters-" "Starkweather, you need to go home tonight." "I have no desire to go home...." "Listen to me, Starkweather," Sam urgently, now taking Starkweather's hands in his. Starkweather looked startled but by all means, not uncomfortable. "You have to go home, talk some sense into Ben. Talk to him as his wife, not as a federal agent. They want to kill Ben. Tell him that. I don't care if it's classified information or not, but tell him the details of the case, make him understand that it's not worth the risk. Tell him you don't want to be a widow. As much as you complain about him, you love him. I see it in your eyes." <> he thought. "If I give him any information to him, he will use it and before we know it, it will be my ass on the stand too, now how will that help anything?" she demanded, withdrawing her hands. Sam put his hands in his lap. She had a point. Before he could say anything, Al appeared behind Starkweather. He gestured with his head for Sam to go to the restroom. Sam looked at Al confusedly. Al groaned and this time with wild and exagerrated movements with his head and arms, pointed at the restroom. "What is it Doggett?" Starkweather turned around to look where Sam was looking. She saw nothing but the news blaring on the TV behind her. "Something interesting on?" "No, no," Sam stood up. "I have to use the bathroom. When the waitress comes back, just order me a burger with everything and an order of fries, please." As Sam walked away, Starkweather shouted behind him. "You have a bladder like a pregnant woman!" Sam was relieved to find the hideously dirty bathroom devoid of people. Al popped in in front of him. "Al, what's going on?" he asked. "Why couldn't you talk to me in front of her?" "Because she can HEAR me, Sam!" "HEAR you? Are you sure? How?" "Yeah, I'm sure," Al chewed on his ever present cigar and thumped his little blinking console a few times. "As for how... you ain't gonna believe this, but when that hellcat out there and Mr. Spooky-pants himself find out, they're either gonna throw up or commit suicide, whichever comes first." "What?" "When you leaped into Agent Scully, we configured Mulder's brainwaves so he could see me, but we forgot to switch it off. Now, there's some bug in Ziggy's system that we can't turn it off. We're working on it, but it's gonna take time. Time we ain't got, buddy." "And Starkweather?" "Ziggy thinks that Starkweather can hear me because there's a 65% chance that... they're blood-relation." "Are you serious? How is that possible? How are they related? Why only a 65% chance?" Al rubbed his eyes. His body was screaming for a strong drink and forty years of sleep. "It's possible because Starkweather was found abandoned in the Admiral's car and they adopted her shortly afterwards. Nobody knows who her real parents are. We don't know HOW they're related because after Mulder gets whacked while he's in custody for Ben's murder, Starkweather gets iced three days later in a convieniece store holdup, according to police reports." "Oh no..." Sam leaned against a stall door. "That's not all, Sam." Al said gravely. "I just found out a few minutes ago that it gets worse. Two months after that, the Assistant Director Skinner gets gunned down in his own home. He holds on for a few days in ICU, but he doesn't make it. Two months after that, these three bozo computer hackers they use as consultants, the Lonely Hearts' Club or whatever... their offices get blown up, kablooey, with 'em all in it." "Jesus, no," Sam's heart thudded as the death count kept adding up. "That's not all, Sam." "There's MORE?" "After THAT, Scully, along with her mom and kid are run off the road and into the Potomac River, in the dead of winter. There are no survivors." "Oh my God, Scully too?" Sam felt sick. "And her kid?" "There's a another one too Sam, we haven't met her yet. One Special Agent Monica Reyes. She joined up on the X-Files shortly after Scully had her kid, but she's MIA right now because she fell off a ladder while helping paint a house. Busted her tailbone along with some minor injuries. Anyway, after the Scully deaths, she's found strangled at a subway station while she was investigating a case in New York." "Oh, God... all those people. And an innocent child... murdered." "There's one more Sam..." "Doggett." "Twenty-four hours after Jerilyn Starkweather meets her maker, Doggett is stabbed to death waiting for a cab... which means YOU could be standing in line at the Pearly Gates if we don't get you out of this." Sam was looking at the bigger picture, not just the threat on his life. "The entire X-Files is wiped out." "It's wiped out, the X-Files goes under military jurisdiction and remains under lock and key to this day. And, just to add to the fiesta, Ziggy just calculated that a year from now, there's a 99.5% chance of a major plague that's not exactly of this world that's gonna wipe out the majority of the human population. And, for the cherry on the shit sundae, Doggett back with us, is being a horse's ass. Completely uncooperative. He busted through a glass window to get out. You're gonna have a real pretty scar on your forehead when we finally get you back in your body, thanks to him. We're holding him at gun point. We gotta boogey on this one Sam before everything goes ca-ca." "Ca-ca?" Sam groaned. "That's an understatement." "Get to work Sam." Al opened the door and prepared to step back into the future. "I'll do what I can on my end, but you gotta pull all the stops on this one. And we ain't got much time. Ben vanishes off the face of the earth tomorrow night." Al vanished. Scully's apartment Georgetown Much later that night... She was in Democratic Rock, Georgia again, laying on the blood-spattered sheets, seeing all those faces, staring at her unmerciless, contemplating her doom while she writhed in agony, trying to expel her son from the safety of her womb into the uncertainity of life. She felt Monica's hands on her knees, hearing her voice begging her, "Push Dana!" "No, no, it's mine. It's my baby," she whimpered again aloud in her sleep. "Scully?" Mulder sat up and shook her gently. "Scully, wake up." Scully opened her eyes wide and rolled over. "Wh-what? What's happening?" she sat up, only partial in this world, still partially in her nightmare realm. "You were talking in your sleep. You were having a nightmare." He reached for her, but she bolted from her bed. "I have to check on William," she muttered as she crossed over to the baby's bed, who had graduated from bassinet to crib. She gripped the railing and looked down at her miracle, sleeping safely, unaware of the painful lessons that life will give him as he grows. Mulder too got out of bed and went to her, wrapping his bare arms around her petite waist. "Scully? Are you okay?" he whispered, resting his cheek on her hair. "I'm fine," she said, bowing her head. "It was just a bad dream." "What was it?" "It was a bad dream, nothing more," she insisted, pushing away from him, back towards bed. Mulder followed her and sat down by her. "Are you still mad at me for fighting with Jerilyn today?" He tried teasing. "I promised I'd play nice from now on." "No, I'm not upset anymore about that," she looked away and layed back down in bed. Mulder got in on the other side and curled up around her. "Then talk to me." He rested his head in the soft crook between her cheek and shoulders. "Do you think Ben and Jerilyn talk?" Scully asked, to distract him from prying into her terror-filled sleep. Mulder paused as his profiler's mind went to work. For a moment, Scully thought he fell back asleep until he said, "I think they try. I think they genuinely care for eachother. But, judging from what you've told me, they had a whirlwind weekend romance with Jerilyn commuting from the University of Iowa to Des Moines for her duties for the Iowa Air National Guard but when Jerilyn opted not to become a medical doctor, but an FBI agent, instead of seeing if they could handle awesome responsibility of commitment while she was at Quantico and he was in the Great White North, they leaped into marriage, thinking their strong affection and fairy-tale romance would survive the wedding vows. This is probably Jerilyn and also Ben's first, quote "real" unquote real serious relationship. Because of their inexperience, when he saw her in that white gown and he slipped that diamond ring on her finger, they thought they were going to live happily ever after." "Then what?" "Sleeping Beauty woke up and saw the warts on her prince. Benjamin Starkweather is still fast asleep, wondering why Jerilyn is no longer part of his dreams. They aren't going to be together much longer, Scully. They still love each other but they've discovered they don't have what it takes to live together, to share their lives together." Scully closed her eyes. "Does anybody live happily ever after?" She felt him pull her towards him, so she rolled over, facing him. He ran his fingers through her hair. "Isn't that what we're fighting for Scully?" He asked. "Isn't that what the X-Files is all about? So that we can at least have the chance of trying to savor the taste of a fairy tale ending?" He kissed her forehead. "So, no more bad dreams, okay?" For a moment, she buried her face into his bare chest. She kissed the scar down his sternum from that terrible time when the monsters stole him from her life. Then she lifted her head up for him to touch his lips with hers. As the kiss deepened into fairy-tale proportions, she felt him fumbling with the buttons of her satin night shirt, so she guided his hands with hers where she wanted him to go. Al, ever mindful that Mulder could still see him, had hidden himself in the shadows of the room. When the situation got hot and heavy, feeling like a pervert, Al slipped through the walls to the other side so the "busy bunnies" wouldn't notice him. "Goushie," he whispered, also mindful that Mulder could still hear them. "Center me in on the Starkweathers." He was pretty sure there were no sweet nothings and lovin' going on over there. Ben and Jerilyn's apartment 9:56 PM Ben paused outside of his door, listening to the faint strains of music from within. He didn't know a thing about classical music before meeting Jerilyn. He knew plenty now, and he know how to judge her moods by what music she was playing. When she was sad or melancholy, she'd play Beethoven's "Fur Elise" or Liszt's "Liebestraum" (Love's Dream) When she was in an amourous mood, she'd play Debussy's "Arabesque" or "Clair de Lune." When she was playing just to play, she'd play the main theme from Jane Campion's "The Piano." She had an amazing, almost preternatural talent for being able to just listen to a song, even the most complicated piece, and be able to play it herself. She could play several instruments, all by ear. Unfortunately, Ben heard Beethoven's "Presto Agitato", her absolute favorite piece to play when she was royally hacked off. Ben sighed. Since her right wrist was still in a case, he guessed that she must be playing the CD at top volume. He was surprised that the neighbors hadn't complained yet. When he let himself in, he was astonished to find her at the piano. The CD player was playing "Presto Agitato", but so was she, only the left hand parts. Her right hand lay useless in her lap. She managed to keep in perfect beat along with the recording. If one would listen very carefully, then you would be able to hear the left hand parts overlapping while the right hand parts standing alone. Her eyes were closed. Ben shut the door quietly and sat down, listening to her play, formulating his strategies in advance. Being a prosecutor, he wasn't very good at defense and he resented it like hell he'd have to defend himself against his own wife, but there was nothing he could do about that. Caesar, their fat tabby cat, leaped into his lap and started purring. Absentily, he stroked his orange silky fur until Jerilyn finished. When she turned around, he made a feeble joke. "Look, someone around here still likes me." Jerilyn played along with the next song on her CD, Chopin's "Etude Number 12" still only the left handed parts. "You made me look like a horse's ass in my boss's office today," she said crisply. Ben snatched the remote off the coffee table that his parents gave them as a wedding present. He switched off the stereo and Jerilyn stopped playing. "You did that yourself, honey, I hate to break it to you." Jerilyn opened her mouth, but Ben plowed ahead. "Baby, let's not do this tonight, I'm tired, you're tired." "You're right," Jerilyn said dangerously. "I AM tired. Tired of this bullshit..." She recalled Sam-in-Doggett's body's words: <> and took a deep breath. "I'm damn tired, Ben," she flung herself off the piano bench and headed towards the kitchen. Ben and Caesar followed. Jerilyn continued her rant as she opened a can of soft cat food for her kitty. "I am so damn tired of trying to get through to you. I yell. I scream. I beg and I cry and nothing, nothing, NOTHING I ever say means a damn thing to you." She dumped the food into Caesar's dish and set it down for him. As the happy fat feline mawed down on his treat, she crouched beside him, petting him. "What do I have to do to get you to listen to me??" Al, hovering in the doorway behind Ben, nodded his head approvingly. <> he thought. > "I'm listening now," Ben crouched down and took her hands in his. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Talk to me, Jeri." "Don't take this case," she stood up, with the pretense of doing the dishes. "Aw, for pete's sake!" Ben got up again, angry now. "You b*tch about me not listening to you but when I am here to listen, it's never about us, it's about YOU. Your damn dreams, your damn wants, needs, career. Jesus Jerilyn, I don't want to hear about YOU. I want to hear about US." "This IS about us, Ben!" Jerilyn turned around. "You don't understand Ben. I just found something terrible out this afternoon..." <> "Ben, it's not about Mulder or Doggett, I don't give a rat's ass about any of that! It's about you." "I'm not so sure about you not caring about Doggett." Ben snarled. <> Al thought, not liking where this was going. "Goushie," he said as loudly as he dared. "Get me info on the Doggett-Starkweather relationship, STAT." But Jerilyn was too angry and too involved with her fight with Ben to notice mysterious whispers. "What do you mean by that?" A heavy silence lay between man and wife. "God damn it. Benjamin Lucas Starkweather, you BEST not be questioning my loyalty and commitment to my vows to you." "I'm not saying you did the naked pretzel with him... yet." Ben felt all of his angry insecurities bubble forth, the fear that maybe he wasn't the man meant to stay by this unique woman's side for the rest of her life. "But you spend an awful lot of time with him." "He's my partner. I kind of have to." "Even while you were out on leave?" Ben accused her, face contorted in an ugly mask of jealousy. "You went out to the firing range with him every week." "To work on my left hand," Jerilyn held up her broken wrist. "This hand is going to be so weak when the cast comes off, I'm gonna have to compensate with my left hand until its up to par again. Doggett spotted me." "You went out to dinner with him a few times." "What? I can't have friends now? I can't go out for a burger and a beer without you approving of who I'm with?" "You went to his house last night. Before we went out to the bar." "I dropped off a file for him. As a favor for Scully? What about it?" "That's not the first time you've been to his house." "So?" "You care about him." "He's my partner and he's my first fucking friend I've made down here. Are you begrudging me that?" "Where were you two nights ago?" Ben snapped. Jerilyn stayed quiet. <> Al moaned to himself. <> He knew Mulder and Scully caught the love bug while working together. He hoped it wasn't contagious. "Were you at Doggett's?" Ben asked quietly. Jerilyn couldn't meet his eyes at first. "Yes..." she looked at him now squarely in the face. "Scully called me. She said Doggett was having a gathering at his place. It was me, Scully, the Deputy Mayor and a couple of other guys from work. You weren't home yet, I was bored, so I went. We all sat around, played cards, took turns holding Boo, watched a dumb movie, drank beer. That's ALL." "That's ALL? That's ALL, she says." Ben griped to thin air. "So if I call Saint Scully and your daddy's puppet, the venerated Deputy Mayor Mulder plus all these anomynous "guys", they'll tell me you were just holding a baby and playing poker, right?" "That's right, you son of a bitch." "You stayed, despite Mulder's presense." "Because Scully is my friend as well," she growled. "Because Mulder is important to her, and because he saved my ass, I tolerate his presense as long as he doesn't say anything that pisses me off." "So, if I call all these people, they could swear on a Bible that you did nothing but hang out... can they also tell me what time they left and what time you left?" Jerilyn looked down at her shoes. "They all had work in the morning, you didn't. You were home at about four in the morning. Did they stay out that late too? Scully? With her baby?" "Ben," Jerilyn said, trying to control her simmering temper. "Doggett is my partner. I trust him with my life. But you are my husband. I trust you with my heart and my soul. I handed those over to you when I changed my last name. Nothing is going to change that. I stayed over a little while longer with Doggett. We had a good talk. We exchanged confidences. He's my friend, and that's all. You're my husband. YOU'RE the one I came home to. The one I'll ALWAYS come home to. What are you so afraid of? Why are you saying these things?" "Because I think you're full of shit," Ben replied bitterly. "Because I think you've been lying your ass off to me and to yourself ever since you met Doggett." "Doggett is almost fifteen years older than me. For all I know, he could be my natural father." As an adopted child, Jerilyn couldn't help but look at men old enough to be her father and wonder <> "So? Mulder is almost three years older than Scully. That didn't stop them. And gee, for HOW long did Mulder and Scully claim they were JUST friends?" Ben pointed out. <> Al thought. "There's a slight difference. Neither one of them were wearing a wedding band when they met. Ben, when I married you, I married you forever. Better and worse, sickness and health and all of that yukkity-yuk. No matter how pissed I get at you, no matter how lonely I get when you're pulling all-nighters at the office or how scared I am when I go out on assignment that I might not come home, I am married to YOU. Nothing is going to change that." "You're not married to me. You're married to the FBI. I may as well be a widow." Jerilyn folded her hands tightly together. "Ben, tell me what to say. Tell me what you need to hear. Because I honestly don't know what I'm doing that's so wrong." "Tell me you love me." "Ben, that's not even a question. I love you. I love you so much, it hurts me." "Tell me you'll stand behind me with whatever I do." Jerilyn broke away from him and went into the living room. She held herself and looked out at the window. Ben followed her and so did Al. "I can't... go against my conscience if it tells me what you're doing is wrong," she finally said after an eternity of silence. "Ben, I know what you think you're doing... going after the oil rig... is the right thing to do, but it's not. It's just opening a Pandora's Box, hand-delivered to us from Hades himself." She turned around. Ben was surprised to see tears trickling down her cheeks for she was one who rarely wept, especially in front of others. "Ben, I found out that they're going to silence your case by killing you. You say you're a grass-widow. Baby, if you take this case, you'll be making me a genuine widow and I can't handle that." "Jerilyn," he said "who's "they"?" "I don't know," she confessed. "But it's like a whole... consortium. A... a.... a Syndicate for lack of a better name. These people are everywhere, making their plots, having no concern for the innocent bystanders they take down in their weird little wars. These are the same people who ordered that... thing in the park to attack me and I would be dead if Mulder hadn't been out early that morning. They kidnap people, they torture... they kill... Ben... I can't possibly explain it because I don't completely understand." "Did it ever cross your mind that they told you this to scare you? To do what you're doing right now? To talk me out of this?" Ben touched her face and wiped her tears away. "Look at what's happening to us. You talk about this Syndicate, how they've hurt people. What about the X-Files? Look at what happened with all the people that's been involved even remotely with that division. They're all dead or seriously fucked up. I mean... both Scully and Mulder have been kidnapped and tortured. Do you think they rest easily at night? They go after monsters and evil men in dark offices but you never hear about the follow-up. You never hear about these bastards having their day in court. That's what I want to do. I want these monsters put away Jerilyn. Let them rot in the darkest cell so we can get one with our lives. I mean... look at your "friend" Doggett. He supposedly only went in to get in good with the Deputy Director so he can have Skinner's post when he retires. Now, he seems to be sinking into the myth deeper and deeper. He's just like the others. Is that what you want? To be stuck in the basement forever? What happened to teaching at Quantico? I hear you talking about that less and less." "Ben, so much has happened... I've learned so much since then. Not just about the X-Files, but about myself. Shit that you wouldn't even believe if I told you. Things I'm not sure I believe, things I don't want to believe. Things I thought I didn't want to know, but now I know, I HAVE to." Al wished he wasn't a hologram so he could give her a hug. "I mean, I've always lived this pretty illusion that I'm a normal all-American girl, but I'm NOT... and you KNOW that... you've seen the scars on my body... you've heard all about the time when Mom and I were kidnapped... now... I think I've finally found a venue where I can find answers. To find out why I am the way I am." "You're talking like Mulder." "Don't insult me like that." But she smiled for the first time. "Jerilyn, don't torture yourself like this. Mulder and Scully searched for this... fucking truth you're talking about and look where it got them. Do you really... REALLY want to take the chance of being ousted out of the Bureau like Mulder was? Do you really want to give up on your dream of being an instructor at Quantico to chase smokescreens?" "What do you suggest I do? Keep pretending that everything's okay?" "When I win this case," Ben said carefully. "Mulder will be cleared of all allegations against him for the explosion." "So?" "Then he can be reinstated into the Bureau and back into the X-Files where he belongs." "He WAS reinstated, briefly. He's out now because his health is in question. Scully thinks whoever took him, wiped out his immune system." "He had AIDS?" "NO! It's as if it has no memory. He catches every germ and virus under the sun, but his white blood cells can still fight them. Things that we're immune to after having them once, like influenza or mono, he gets." "People get the flu all the time." "No, they get different strains of flu. Once a normal person catches one strain of flu, after they recover, they have immunity against it. But new strains of flu come out all the time. People don't just have "the flu" they are having a new and interesting variety of a flu their bodies never had to deal with all the time. Mulder's immunity system has no memory of what diseases he's already had. Until they figure out how to fix that, he could be reinstated." "But he COULD be reinstated, right?" "Sure, if he passes the physical... where are you going with this?" "They wouldn't need a fourth person there, would they?" "You want me out of the Bureau." Now Jerilyn was white hot angry again. <> Al rubbed his temples. "Not of the Bureau, just the X-Files. You're all worried about me, what about you? Your first case and you're almost killed in not one, but two plane wrecks, you're almost run off the road, an army lieutenant gives you a hairline fracture on your upper arm escorting you away from a crime scene that you had every right to be at and some crazy guy tries to kill you while you're jogging. And that was your first case!!! YOU talk about being scared about not coming home from an assignment? What about me? What do you think it will do to me if YOU don't come home? Jerilyn, you swore to me, you promised me that this transfer to DC was just a stepping stone to Quantico. So we left everything we knew to come here. And now, instead of using this as a stepping stone, you're using it as a cornerstone. You know what? I don't give a damn about the X-Files. I don't care about Mulder or Scully or Skinner or Doggett or any of them. As far as I'm concerned, they're using you, they're manipulating you and they're dragging you down. The longer you stay, the further away Quantico gets! You said YOU'RE tired? Know what I'm tired of?" "Enlighten me." "I'm tired of laying awake at night, listening you working away at the computer on some damn case, I'm tired of having you leave and be gone for unknown amounts of time, God only knowing when you come home, wondering if you'll come home at all. I am terrified that one of these days they're going to ship you home in a body bag. I am tired of living in limbo, of promises that you'll slow down, take time off, time for us. And they only way you get that time is you get mangled in the line of duty and we spend that time putting the broken bits of you back together, only to have you run off again on another mission. I don't want that shit anymore. I want US, I want Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Starkweather. Not Benjamin Starkweather, counselor and Special Agent Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather. I'm tired of this Jeri. When does it start being about us? When are we going to BE "us" again? What happened to settling down, having kids, having house, having a life. All I want is you, Jerilyn and my life is complete. I can't have... I don't want Special Agent Starkweather." Jerilyn scowled at Ben, reminding Al of Ex-Wife Number Two. "You can't have Jerilyn unless you take Special Agent Starkweather along with her," she snapped. "And I'm not leaving the X-Files until I'm good and ready, even if it means sharing an office with Mulder, who, as of right now, is only one point ahead of you on my Asshole-Meter." She pushed away from him. "Jerilyn-" "No! You don't want me, you want the beautiful lie I've been living. I didn't even know that it was a lie until I came here. What you want isn't real," Jerilyn choked on her rage and her tears. "The only truth I know is that there's something out there, hurting people, that I REALLY want to lay the smackdown on, even if it means going outside the boundaries of the law... and that I love you... but you only love what you want to see. And what you want to see... isn't what you get. I just told you that those motherfuckers are gonna try to take you out and if you die, I will die. For the rest of my life without you, I will be dying on the inside. I am begging you, as a federal agent, as your wife, as just me, Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather... please, don't do this! Don't take this case. If you love me for plain old weird me, don't do this to me!!!" "Just as you said earlier..." Ben said, painfully slow. "I can't go against my conscience." "Then there's nothing more to say," she said quietly "I'm going to bed, good night" and, scooping up the cat, went to the bedroom. Ben followed her, but she stopped him at the door, pillows and a quilt in her arms. "Uh-uh. No. You. Couch. Get used to it," she dropped the bedding at his feet and slammed the door. Al watched Ben make up his bed. "Kid, you blew it," he muttered as he lit a fresh cigar. He said, aloud now, since Jerilyn was not in the room, "Goushie! Bring me to Sam!" Al disappeared. Meanwhile.... Sam couldn't settle down. After Starkweather left the bar, with healthy promises of talking Ben out of his suicide mission, Sam sat there, nursing his one drink, trying to figure out the next step. By his watch, Ben only had twenty-four hours before he disappeared. Three days after his disappearance, he dies. Then Mulder. Then Starkweather. Then Doggett. Then Skinner. Scully. The Lone Gunmen. And an agent he hadn't even met yet, Monica Reyes. It didn't make sense... why would they waste time with a lawyer... Unless... Unless it wasn't the lawyer they were going after at all. That Ben was just a red herring... that the leap wasn't about saving Mr. Starkweather. It was about saving Mrs. Starkweather. <> Sam wondered. After Al told him about the 65% chance of blood relations between Mulder and Starkweather, Sam couldn't help but stare at her the entire night, partially because she was fairly pretty, but trying to figure out what DNA tests were to be inconclusive. Same wicked sarcasm. Same genius intelligence. Same crinkly puppy-dog eyes. Same pouty lip. But her skin was very fair, her hair a soft fawn color and stick straight and her nose was very Anglo-Saxon, denoting some Scandivian blood in her heritage. Plus she somewhere along the way picked up a healthy dose of skepticism that Mulder lacked. Miserably lacked. The only conclusion Sam came to was that he was very tired. He paid the tab and got into Doggett's car. Instead of driving to Doggett's apartment, he cruised around, still trying to figure out how he was supposed to stop Ben from inadvertdently destroying the world. Sam surfed the radio stations and stumbled across a country station. He wasn't a fan of country, but when he heard the svelte voice of country crooner, Martina McBride, who he didn't remember who she was, he felt himself relax just a bit as he was swept away by her lyrics: "You think I'm always makin' Something out of nothin' You're saying' everything's okay You've always got an answer Before I ask the question Whatever you say... Now we can change the subject Pretend I never brought it up Same old story anyway Later we can work it out Right now we're talked out Yeah whatever you say Oh I know you can hear me But I'm not sure you're listening I hear what you're sayin' But still there's something missin' Whether I go, whether I stay Right now depends on Whatever you say You say yes you need me And no you wouldn't leave me And that should be enough to make me stay And even though I want to I don't hear 'I love you' In whatever you say Oh I know you can hear me But I'm not sure you're listening I hear what you're sayin' But still there's something missin' Whether I go, whether I stay Right now depends on Whatever you say Whether I go, whether I stay Right now depends on Whatever you say...." "Man, if those weren't truer words tonight," Al said, suddenly appearing in the backseat. Sam jumped. "AL!" he complained. "Don't do that!" he sighed. "Let me get to Doggett's apartment. Then let's talk." Al nodded. "Sure. Take a left......" With Al's help, Sam found his way to Doggett's home. He let himself in, turned on the lights and flopped onto the couch. "Well?" Sam asked. "Did you check in on Ben and..." Sam blanked out for a minute. "What's Starkweather's first name again?" "Jerilyn and yeah I popped in on them," Al grumbled. "Well?" Sam sat up a bit. "Did she talk to him?" "Oh... they talked," Al said, lighting a new cigar. "And then she banished him to Sofa-ville." "Oh, no," Sam groaned. "Sam," Al said seriously. "I don't see this having a very happy ending." "We can't think like that, Al," Sam said seriously. "We got to think. We've got to... Al, do we know where and when Ben gets abducted?" Al punched a few buttons on this little computer console. "According to police reports, he was last seen in his office at the law firm of Carter, Adams and Spangle. He called Jerilyn at five-fifteen, he left the office at five- thirty, he's found as a floater three days later." "Okay, okay," Sam was pacing. "Then tomorrow, I will just have to stick to Ben like glue, especially during the prime hours. I make sure nothing happens to him. Nothing does happen, history changes and I..." Sam slowed down. "Leap out of here..." he muttered as he wandered off in search of a kitchen. When Sam got to the kitchen, Al was already waiting for him. "Whatcha looking for?" "Glasses. I need a drink," when Al stared at him pointedly, he amended his statement, "a drink of water." "Why did you look so down in the mouth when you figured out a way to leap out of this one?" Al asked suspiciously. "I am not down in the mouth." Sam got a glass and filled it with water from the tap. "Well, you wanna leap outta here, don't ya?" Al asked. "Sure I do," Sam said. "That's all I ever want, to go home." "Well, we'll get you home," Al reassured him. "And we'll get Doggett home too, he's about ready to go completely postal on us, stupid Marines. Oh... oh... Sam... about Doggett." "Yeah?" "Ben made some... uh... accusations... tonight that I'm not quite sure if Mrs. Starkweather answered so honestly." "What do you mean?" Sam asked. Al gave him a minute to let the insinuation sink in. "Doggett and STARKWEATHER??? I don't... no... that can't be right. Where did Ben get that idea?" "Well, I don't know Sam, I mean, I don't think they're doing the mattress mambo yet, even Ben said he doesn't think that, but Ben thinks that there's something more between them because the little missus has been spending alot of time with her partner and I don't mean Ben." "Oh," was all Sam said. OH???" Al spluttered. "'Oh', he says. I just told you that Doggett, who's bod you're in right now, is not in good with Benny because he thinks his wife is making goo-goo eyes at Doggett and all you can say is 'OH?'" "Well is she?" Sam asked. "Is she what?" "Making...as you so aptly put it...goo-goo eyes at Doggett?" "How should I know?" Al snapped. "I haven't talked to Mr. The Few, The Proud, The Mentally Deficient in a few hours and when I talked to him last, it was while the doc was stitching up YOUR head because HE decided it would be a good idea to bust through the two way mirror. Anyway, couldn't YOU tell when you were talking to the little lady yourself earlier tonight?" "I don't know," Sam mumbled. "I mean, I can tell she trusts me... uh Doggett and... um..." Sam paced a bit in the kitchen. "She's an incredible person Al. She's smart, she's funny, she's strong and she's straight as an arrow. I mean, I can't picture her being unfaithful to Ben. It's not in her." Sam dumped out the remaining water in his glass. "But she's not as tough as she likes people to think she is. Underneath it all, she's sweet and gentle, Al, there's an angel underneath all that piss and fire she shrouds herself in." "Shrouds herself????" Al said, mouth hanging open. "Since when are YOU a poet?" "I'm not," Sam felt a blush crossing Doggett's cheeks. "Aw nooooooooooooooooo," Al groaned. "I don't believe this is happening." "What?" Sam snapped defensively. "You like her." "Of course I like her." "No, you LIKE like her." "What is this, junior high?" "You," Al began circling his best friend. "Have the hots for that little hurricane." "Do not," Sam grumbled. "I just... I just hope I don't forget her when I leap out of here." "I wouldn't worry about that one." Al said, "Women like her, women like her and Scully don't let you forget them. They stay with you forever, even if it's only in dreams." "Now who's the poet?" "Ahhh," Al grumbled, opening the door back into the future. "Get some sleep. You're gonna need it for tomorrow. Just be sure you're thinking with the head on your SHOULDERS tomorrow," was Al's parting shot when he stepped out the glowing door. "Funny," Sam said when the door closed. He went to lay down on the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned on the stereo for background noise. "Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand Take me to some twilight land Where all but love is gray Where time just slips away Without her as my guide Night falls I'm cast beneath her spell Daylight comes our heaven's torn to hell Am I left here to burn and burn eternally She's a mystery to me..." Sam closed his eyes and felt himself slip away to a twilight land... Sam fell into a troubled sleep... He opened his eyes and found himself sitting a car, similar to the one he had before he made his maiden leap into the past. He looked around and somehow knew that he was still in Washington DC, or actually, a nice, middle class suburb. More accurately, he was sitting in the driveway of a modest one story house, tastefully, understatedly decorated, but one where children ruled for toys littered the meticulously manicured yard and a basketball hoop hung over the garage. Sam got out of car and walked around a bit, admiring the neatly pruned rosebushes. Two little boys, on bicycles wheeled past on the sidewalk. One of the boys, not more than eight or nine, stopped in front of the driveway, near where Sam stood and yelled at his friends. "I gotta go, Will, I'll see ya after supper!" he yelled lustily. His little friend waved and rode away. The small boy unceremoniously dumped his bike on the grass and even before he ran for him, Sam could see that the child was undeniably Starkweather's. Same crinkly hazel eyes, same elfin face. Dark mocha brown hair though, with a colic. The child flung himself at him. "Hi Dad!" he said happily. Sam, as if it was most natural thing in the world, swung the boy up in the air, "Hey, you, what's goin' on?" Sam asked brightly. "Dad, Will's havin' a sleepover at his house tonight. We're gonna watch movies and eat popcorn and play video games on Will's new Playstation 4 and Aunt Dana already said it was okay, can I go, please Dad? I promise I won't be a pain for Aunt Dana, please??? Uncle Fox is gonna be there and he said he was gonna play video games with us, please Dad, can I, huh? Can I go?" "Well, let's see what your mother says, but I think it'll be okay," Sam put the boy down, took the child by the hand and went into the house. The living room was spacious and comfortably furnished, but again, kids rules. Sam stepped on a teddy bear by accident before calling out "Doc? Hey Doc, I'm home!" A petite woman came out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a dish towel and despite the shoulder length dark brown hair and the tiniest hint of crows' feet by her eyes and laugh lines by her mouth, Sam knew it was Starkweather. "Hey, you're early, shock and surprise," she deadpanned as she crossed over the toy strewn living room to give Sam a deep, long kiss. "Ewwww," the boy covered his eyes. "Oh, stop," Starkweather crouched to the boy's height. "Look at you," she said as she did a totally "Mom-thing" by licking her fingers and trying to rub dirt smudges off his face. "J.B., what devilment have you and your cousin been up to?" "Nothin', honest!" he protested in wide-eyed innocence as he wiped "Mom-spit" off his face. "Just playin' and ridin' bikes." "And getting dirty," She said lovingly. "Mom, Will said I could sleep at his house tonight, Dad already said it was okay if you said okay. Is it okay? Can I go?" "'May' you go, and yes, baby, it's okay. Your Aunt Dana already called-" "Alright!" "-and invited you and your sister." "Aw, man," the boy pouted. "We don't want any dumb girls there." "Hey mister," Starkweather said sternly. "Since when do we talk that way about our twin sister? Bailey's just going to stay for movies and popcorn. She already said she wants to come back home tonight. Now, go wash up for supper. You stink." She kissed the top of his dirty head. The boy scampered off. Starkweather shrugged. "So much for our night alone, but Bailey is so attached to that new kitten Mulder got her she doesn't want to leave it along for one night. She named him Fox, after him, isn't that revoltingly cute?" Sam laughed. "Well, it was nice of Mulder to give her that kitten. She was so broken up when Caesar died." "She wasn't the only one, poor old cat," Starkweather wound herself around Sam. "But, at least we'll have a couple of hours of 'grown-up' time while the kids are out." She kissed him again and Sam felt completed, whole, with her in his arms. She broke away and Sam felt a small part of him die with even that tiny separation. "Hang on a sec, I'll call her inside, she's out back with that kitten, I mean, Jiminy Christmas, I'm almost afraid she's going to love that poor hairball to death, it's so little." She went to the kitchen, Sam following. "Bailey!" Starkweather shouted out the back door, "Come into house, Dad's home!" Starkweather went back to the counter to finish slicing tomatoes for the salad she was working on. Sam sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his daughter. A little girl came to the door, with a small white kitten in a strangle hold. Sam felt his heart stop. The girl had piercing crystalline blue eyes and wavy blond hair. "Daddy," she said, crawling into his lap. "I missed you so much, see what Uncle Fox got me?" she held the kitten up for his approval. Sam looked over the child's head at his reflection in the toaster. John Doggett's face, aged nine years, stared back at him. Starkweather turned to him. "Hey," she asked, forehead crinkled in concern. "What's wrong, Papa John?" Sam woke up with a start. He looked around to find himself in John Doggett's bedroom. He made his way to the bathroom to splash cold water in his face. He looked up into the mirror. John Doggett's face stared back at him. Sam touched the reflection with dripping wet fingers. "God," he prayed. "Please let my next leap be the leap home. I can't do this anymore..." The shrill ring of the phone bolted Sam from Doggett's bed. He glanced over at the alarm clock, which almost screamed 2:24am. "Hey Doggett," came a familiar voice on the other end, it took Sam a second in the fog of sleepiness to remember exactly who the voice belonged to. "Hey listen, the boys found something ya might wanna take a look at. I didn't wanna call Scully away from Will, Starkweather's phone is off the hook, I can't get hold of either Skinner or Reyes." "Glad to be a last resort." He heard himself grumbling. "It couldn't hold till morning?" Sam whined. Part of him really wanted to get back to that dream, even if it wasn't his own life. He needed to get home--and soon--if he was starting to even dream vicariously. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't get the fun of turning you into an insomniac. All-nighters come with the territory of that basement office." Mulder retorted Sam sighed defeatedly. "You know you are fucking impossible sometimes." Sam heard himself gruff into the receiver, surprised by his own vulgarity. "Impossible people do impossible things, Puppy Man." "It better be damn important, Mulder." "If we're gonna keep the x-files up and running, this is pretty big news. I dropped by my apartment anyway to get some things I needed. I'll be over in a few minutes. See ya in a few." Part of Mulder's conversation made Sam jolt out of his fog. Who the hell were "the boys?" "Al! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" Sam called out into the air. Pretty soon, the thin blue light of the chamber door appeared and Al's swanky form graced the doorway. "Who are the boys?" "Oh great...not the Lone Gungeeks!" Al groaned. "I think those guys have been beamed up one too many times. They're three hacker friends of Mulder's who write a newsletter called The Lone Gunmen. Your last leap, Doggett enlisted their help. One of them wanted to be beamed up, and another called Ziggy and I quote..."a million megabytes of megabitch," and another one fell in love with her." "So they're a bit off the beaten path...they can't be that bad." Sam attempted to be optomistic. "Mulder and I are headed over to their place in a few minutes. He's on his way." "Just don't look too shocked or surprised by what you see when you get to their place." "Any change in the USMC data system or new light on who kills Mr. Starkweather?" "According to police reports, blood was found in Mulder's car matching Starkweather's type, making him a suspect. No change on the USMC data system. I think the info Mulder's dug up has something to do with that, though." "What if I get him to go away for a weekend, or maybe get the sparkplug so the car won't start?" Sam brainstormed, shoveling tennishoes into unsocked feet. "Not a bad idea, Sam. See what you can do. Meanwhile, find a way to get close to Bennyboy so he won't get fed to the fishes in a few days." "I dunno if I can do that, Al. He already thinks I'm after his wife. Why would Doggett spend quality time with a coworker's husband who hates his guts?" "Well, try...because if you can stop him from getting killed, we may just be able to get you home." Sam's face got serious for a minute. "Al, I have a life back home, don't I?" He sounded almost like a little kid, asking a parent about camp or kindergarten. "Sure you do. It'll be your fifteen minutes after you get back, and everyone's doing their damndest to make sure that happens." "I know...thanks." Sam said quietly. "You better get outta here. If Starkweather can hear you, odds are Mulder can, too, and he'll be here any minute." "Hey, you're right. I'll see ya later. Lemme know what the boys find out, and try and find a way to stick to Benny no matter what it takes! I don't care if you hafta kidnap the yutz. Do it!" Al shouted and was out of sight just in time for the doorbell to ring. "Morning, Dogbreath." Mulder chirpped. Sam only flashed him a warning look. "I don't give a damn if the x-files stay open, Mulder. I'm too old to be pulling all-nighters." "This isn't about the x-files, Doggett. It's about those people that died on that oil rig, and it's about our freedom and safety. Starkweather was right. If we have to testify, we are fair game. I've got way too much to loose these days." "So that's why you're digging up information?" "Not exactly. I can't explain it about Starkweather..." "...say no more, Mulder. I know what you mean." "Don't tell me you have the hots for that little hurricane!" Sometimes it was just plain spooky how much alike Mulder and Al were. Sam felt that the comment justified only a warning glare. "That's not what I meant, anyway...I feel like I need to protect her--like I used to feel like I needed to protect Samantha." "Maybe you just somehow displace Starkweather with Samantha. You're the psychiatrist--you know about all that Freudian crap better than I do." "Interesting theory, Puppy Man. Anyway, so much for theorizing. We're here." Sam inwardly sputtered, trying to conseal the quizzical expression on his face. "Doggett? You okay?" "Yeah...just haven't woken up yet, is all." "Alright. Let's see what the three stooges have found for us." Something about the way the warehouse was concealed told Sam that being a man who had been in the Gunmen's warehouse would be the acting assignment of a lifetime. 3:19 AM Tacoma Park Falls, MD TLG Lair As Mulder pulled up to the back of the warehouse, Sam wondered why they were stopping. He wanted to clue Starkweather in on what they were researching tonight, but decided against it. He had caused enough trouble between the Starkwaethers. Luckily, Mulder's lanky form was a few steps ahead so Sam had no trouble hiding the quizzical expression that seemed to plastered on his face around Fox Mulder. Surely nobody lived here...there were no gutters for running water, and no apparent lights on inside. "It's us." Mulder said simply up into a security camera that Sam didn't notice until then. After a few awkward minutes, Sam was grateful to hear the click of the deadbolt...and a little puzzled as to why he heard eleven more clicks of apparently eleven more deadbolts. "Merry Christmas, Frohike." Mulder said to the stocky man on the other side of the door. He was decidedly odd looking in thin-rimmed owlish glasses framing an unshaven face, and from his peppery greasy hair, he looked to be in desperate need of a shower. "Little late for that, isn't it, Mulder?" Frohike grumbled, and let them in. "Well, I missed it last time, remember?" Mulder prompted, and handed him the folder he carried. "Shit, I forgot. In that case, Happy Hanukah buddy. Now where's my New Years' kiss?" "Not on your life, Fro." Mulder growled and took one of the hundreds of laptops off the mile-high shelves in the back of the warehouse, where a young bearded man in a suit was obviously looking at some sort of scanner. "Jesus Christ, Doggett," said a young bearded man in a suit, "your electromagnetic readings on the security cam are through the roof." Sam wondered briefly if he wasn't brought in as a consultant--surely he couldn't be the third lone gunmen. "I think Dogman's been standing too close to the microwave these days, Byers." "Sorry you hadda be drug out here at this hour." Byers apologized. "We're doing all we can to help the situation." Sam nodded a thanks. "...most of this stuff wasn't even on the market when I left..." Sam said in quiet awe looking around the lair. "When you left where?" Piped up a man with blond stringy hair from behind a large computer. The glare from the screen gave his already pale skin almost a green complexion. "The psych ward?" "Take it easy on him, Langley. It's not his fault--I tell ya, Mulder, it's that FBI coffee." Frohike was saying, hunched over Langley. "I knew they put some sort of mind- deterioration drug in that sh*t. G-Dog, bring it up here, and we'll run some tests on it. It'll be fun." "So why was I brought here?" Sam asked, choosing to ignore the remarks at his expense. "Well, since my new position is about as mind-numbing as watching C-Span, I did some digging this afternoon. Apparently, there was a number called to one of the highest offices of the FBI exactly 36 times both prior to, during, and immediately after our investigation. I'm pooling our resources, trying to figure out exactly who in the FBI was making those calls, and who was doing the calling. If we can find those out, then maybe you, Scully, Reyes, and Starkweather can head up the investigation from there." It killed him that he couldn't be part of the chase anymore. "Starkweather found several AFB's with unexplained crashes like the one we nearly experienced in Edinborrough. You probably couldn't reach her on the phone earlier because I'll be willing to bet she was doing some digging of her own. She's looking tonight for connections between the oil company in the Gulf and those marine bases." "I've got a lock on that address, guys." Langley piped up triumphantly. "It's a payphone on Penn Avenue, and on the same corner as a bank." Sam took a laptop off the computer, and the four other men in the warehouse exchanged puzzled looks. "What in the name of Bill Gates and all that is Holy do you think you are doing?" Frohike sputtered. "I'm...uh...hooking this up to your mother board to see if I can find the shareholders for that oil company." The four were all still staring at Sam open-mouthed. "Gomer, since when did you start hacking? I didn't think Marines had time to score free porn." "I used to build computers and I configured a data system." "In the marines?" Mulder finished. Sam nodded. "Cool! He's one of us." Langley murmured in admiration. Sam was torn between being flattered and worried. Meanwhile Back to the future Quantum Leap HQ Al found himself pausing in front of the chamber where Doggett-in-Sam's body stayed. He could hear the hammers while Goushie and some other techs he didn't know very well were putting plywood in place of the mirror that Doggett had thoughtfully shattered for them. He looked at the kid, barely old enough to shave, but old enough to wear military fatigues and to hold a gun that outweighed him. "Howya doin'?" Al said in a defeated voice. "Sir, lousy, sir," the young man replied formally. Al grinned. At least the kid's sense of humor hadn't been completely stomped out of him. Al punched in his code and the door swooshed open. Doggett was sitting at the table, picking at the dinner they had brought for him, by request. He finished his mouthful of corn before he asked. "So, is this my last meal?" Al looked at the demolished plate of fried catfish, mustard greens, silver queen corn on the cob, homemade macaroni and cheese plus the untouched plate of peach cobbler and the half-empty glass of sweet tea and felt his stomach growl. However he was dreaming of a heaping plate of linguine with a side of chicken breast, drowning in a fine tomato sauce with a big bottle of red wine. He knew he was going to be eating take-out tonight though. Al pulled up a chair and said "You really think we're going to kill you?" Doggett shrugged. "I don't know what to think." "Listen, Doggett," Al sat down, "we don't have much time here. The big clock is ticking and I don't know how to get you to trust me, so I'm just gonna have to lay it on the line for you. "Alright," Doggett said, pushing his food away, giving his total attention to Al. "Lay it out for me," he drawled out condescendingly. Al bridled but kept his cool. "Someone is gunning for Mr. Starkweather," he said "and I don't think he will let Sam help him out of the mess he's gotten himself in." "Why not?" Doggett asked, feeling his cop instincts kicking in. "Because Ben thinks you are one step away from boinking his wife." "WHAT??" Al studied Doggett before he went on. The look of shock and indigation on Doggett-with-Sam's face had been too quick to be faked. But still, with what Ben accused Jerilyn of earlier that night, with what little she had offered as defense, Al had to know. Ben's life may depend on it. "Are you?" "Am I what?" "You know... you... Starkweather... heavy breathing?" "Oh, for Christ's sake!" Doggett bolted up, completely infuriated by now. "What kind of soap opera bullshit is this?" "Look, like it or not, believe me or not, but Sam is parading around in your body. If Ben believe that you and his missus are partners in every sense of the word, it's gonna be next than impossible for Same to help him unless we know how to tiptoe around Ben's ego so tell me straight up right now, you and Starkweather. Are you or aren't you?" Al persisted. Doggett crossed his arms. "We are not having an affair," he said coldly. "That is insulting to me, to Starkweather, to our work relationship and our friendship." Do you have feelings for her?" "What???" Now Doggett sounded disgusted. "Don't look at me like I'm nutso," Al snapped back. "I'm not dead yet and I'm surely not blind. Girl's got a nice shape to her, pretty eyes, and that hair! Oh my God in heaven, I saw her tonight with her hair down, why does she punish such lovely hair by putting it up in those God-awful uptight hairdos at work?" "Quit it," Doggett growled. "And the girl's smart as a whip, loyal as a dog and a heart of gold. Any man would be a fool not to notice," Al said seriously. "Especially a man who works as closely as you two do." "You make it sound like I'm up for a spot on The Dating Game," Doggett said evenly. "I've known Starkweather for less than two months. We've only worked one case." "Two months huh?" Al said. "And yet you guys are comfy enough to spend a late night alone after your little poker party broke up." Doggett fell silent. "You aren't protecting Starkweather's honor if you're holding back. What you say stays here. But I gotta know if there's any reason for Ben being jealous of you other than the fact that he's an insecure prick. Personally, I think their marriage was in the toilet LONG before you were in the picture and Ben is just using you as an excuse but still. I gotta know right now how you feel for that little Hurricane so I can tell Sam what to do, how to behave around both Ben AND Jerilyn. The sooner Sam knows that, the sooner he does his job, the sooner you get out of here and it would be like none of this ever happened." Doggett, sighed, his shoulders slumped. . Meanwhile... Ben and Jerilyn's apartment 2:26 AM Ben tossed and turned on the lumpy sofa bed couch he had unfolded for himself. Eventually, he gave up on sleep, swung himself up and reached for his cigarettes. Lighting up, he looked at the Zippo he held in his hand. Jerilyn had given it to him while they were dating. No special reason, she said. "If you're going to pollute the air, your lungs and me, you might as well look classy doing it," she had said airily while he had unwrapped the paper from the tiny package. Two months later he had scrounged up enough money for the down payment for the diamond solitaire she wore on her left finger. "Christ," he muttered. Still puffing on his cigarette, he wandered down the hall towards the bedroom he was banished from. He scootched the door open a bit and peeked in. Jerilyn was curled up in the fetal position, as usual. She had kicked off all the covers, as usual. The cat was sleeping in the crook of her bare legs, as usual. Ben tiptoed in and hovered over her, helplessly. He reached out as if he was about to move a long lock of her hair out of her sleeping face, looking so deceivingly innocent, but he stopped himself and turned away to go out on the balcony. Outside, taking another Morley out of his pack, he looked out at the city he felt like such an alien in. The East Coast was a whole new world to that Midwestern boy and he wasn't sure he liked it. No, he KNEW he didn't like it, but at the time, it seemed like such an opportunity for Jerilyn. A toe in the door in Washington, a chance to clean up the somewhat blotted record she earned at the Minneapolis Field Office because her partner and her boss either didn't like her intellect, her femininity or both. It was either transfer to DC or have those years spent at Quantico, go to waste. Ben thought the sacrifice wasn't that great for him to make. Now he found it unbearable. He tried to hide his homesickness from his wife, she of the military moveabout life, knew nothing about roots, lifelong neighbors, friendships maintained from kindergarten. He still found himself wandering the streets of Washington like a tourist, treating the nation's capital like a vacation instead of home. Once he learned of the nature of the X-Files, he had breathed a sigh of relief. Jerilyn was not prone to flights of fancy. Ben sincerely believed his wife when she told him that the X-Files was just a stepping stone to something bigger and greater. At the time, she desperately dreamed of being an instructor at Quantico. Like an good soldier's daughter, she plotted her life in an intricate battle plan. One, two years maximum tour of duty in the X-Files, clean up her blotted record, then request a transfer to the Violent Crimes Division (VICAP). Three years in the field for VICAP. No more, no less. Then wait patiently for a teaching opening at her mecca, her Holy Land. She preferred a position in forensics, her specialty, but profiling would suit her just as well. Ben went along with her, on the surface, supporting his wife and anxious to see the world beyond the Midwest, but deep down in darkness where he held secrets he didn't even know existed, he had hoped that Jerilyn would get tired of the political bullshit of DC and would want to return to the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes or even the Land Between Two Rivers, he really hadn't minded Iowa all that much during the seven years he spent their for the Air National Guard and for college and law school. He completely did not expect Jerilyn to completely immerse herself into the X-Files. She had only been on one case so far, which took her to Scotland of all places and had nearly been killed, not once, not twice, not even three times, but four times. He didn't expect his wanderlusting wife, child of perpetually moving military family to sink her roots down in the capital and call DC "home." Ben had prepared himself to spend five years in Washington, then possibly ten more in Virginia, moving closer to Quantico... but he always pictured himself and Jerilyn moving back to Minnesota, buying a house on a lake, opening it up during the summer for the children and grandchildren he was beginning to wonder if he would ever have. That was the clincher. Ben was not a bad guy, he was just an ordinary guy, a "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" type of guy, but at the end of the movie, Mr. Smith eventually returned home from Washington. He wanted his law practice, he wanted a wife, he wanted kids, he wanted the two-story house like his parents had and the white picket fence, a cat and a dog. **Well, I've got the cat,** Ben told himself, tongue in cheek as he smoked from his balcony while Jerilyn slept on inside. He had also hoped that once he and Jerilyn started to have children, Jerilyn would rethink about being in such a dangerous profession. Dead wives also make lousy mothers. He snorted in disgust as he remembered their fight earlier that night. He scoffed at the notion that he was in danger. He didn't understand what the big deal was. It was not a mob case. It was not a war crime case. It was a stinking little environmental case that the only winners from the legal battle was going to be the lawyers. Ben groaned. Did Jerilyn not understand how much money he was going to walk away from this? He was a rookie lawyer who, after landing this case, was told to bill the clients, the benevolent government of the United States of America, $150 an hour. He had already put in twenty-five hours on the case, bringing the pre-tax total up to $3750, which the firm advanced him in a pretty check that was folded up in Ben's wallet. Ben, child of a homemaker and a grammar school principal, had never imagined making so much money at once. It was one of the more compelling reasons why he went into law. He was on his way to becoming a wealthy man, a wealthy man who only wanted to spend his money on his family. Before the scene in Skinner's office today, he was daydreaming about what he was going to do with all that lovely money once the case was over and done with. He would send some to his parents because his dad was always talking about buying a new little fishing boat, but never had the cash on hand. He would buy little gifts for the spoiled rotten bratty children of his older sister. He would buy a new car for Jerilyn so they wouldn't have to share the POS Dodge they both have been driving around for two years now. He wanted to get a new motorcycle and let Jerilyn keep the little Suzuki they had now. He wanted to put a down payment on a nice house in one of Washington's finer suburbs. He wanted the life of a well-to-do upper class ordinary man. To have this, he realized with a sinking heart, he would also have to have an ordinary woman to be his wife and Jerilyn was less than ordinary. Ben paused to think how relations had been steadily deteriorating, long before their move to Washington, long before the tragic miscarriage Jerilyn suffered a while ago. Almost two years too late, Ben made the horrible realization that he married the wrong woman. She was too fiery, too unpredictable, too ambitious, too stubborn, too wild for a simple hearted man like him. He cringed at the idea of divorce, being a good Catholic boy but also because he loathed to concede defeat. At anything. Which made him a good lawyer. But still, sitting alone in his office working on his legal strategies or in his apartment, watching the Twins play ball, sipping beer, divorce was beginning to sound less and less heinous. He was alone all the time anyway, with Jerilyn cooped up in the hellhole the FBI laughingly called "the X-Files office" or when the same said FBI sent her off on another snipe hunt that put her life on the line one more time, putting her right in front of a gun, a poison, a bomb, a speeding van, a crashing plane... being a divorcee seemed infinitely more appealing than waiting to be a childless widow. There was just one problem though. He loved her. TLG Lair 4:17 AM "If I can find the stockholder's list, maybe we'll get lucky." "If this is your idea of getting lucky--" Mulder started "Shuddup, Mulder." Sam grumbled, having about all he could take of Mulder's snide remarks. "Sorry Doggett." Mulder said sheepishly, "my smart-ass- ometer is in direct correllation to my stress level." "I know, Mulder. Believe it or not, I'm on your side here. I've got people working for me on another end on our side" "Doggett, we need Knowell working for this situation like you need a hole in your head." "It's *NOT* Knowell. Believe me, these friends are on the level. I trust my life with them as much as you trust your life with Scully. The whole world is not out to get you, Mulder." "Well, I hope you meant what you said about trusting these friends, because the future of the x-files depends on it." "The x-files is my job now; I'm not about to let you or Scully down, and as long as it's in my power, I won't let the x-files close. Understood?" Sam silently added, and continued to key in data, hoping that what he said got through to Mulder. "Shizayum." Langly said quietly about an hour later. "I've got something here you boys might wanna take a look at." The four crouched around the huge computer screen. "Look who owns 5K of shares in the oil company...about halfway down the list of shareholders." "That explains a whole damn lot. No wonder the b*stard got jumpy when we wanted to investigate." Mulder growled, his voice growing steadily louder. "Dammit...I can't BELIEVE I was fired over a STUPID CONFLICT OF INTEREST!" He said, banging his head in slow repetative motion on the top of Langly's computer. "Not too hard, buddy, you'll break the equipment." Langly nasalled. Halfway down the list earning nearly 2 million in dividends every year in stock of a certain oil company based in the Gulf of Mexico was Deputy Director Kersh. Sam whipped out his cell phone. "Who are you calling?" Mulder asked from his station. "The Ghostbusters." Sam deadpanned. "I'm calling Starkweather. She needs to know about this mess before she goes to work in the morning." He hit the last button on Doggett's cell-phone, figuring that was the last person he would have added to the list. "Doggett, what early bird bit *your* wormy ass at this hour? God! The grass isn't even up yet." "Look, I'm sorry about the hour, but we've been digging all night, and there's something you should know about before you leave for the office." "I'll bring the doughnuts." "Kersh is in on it." "Fuckin' A!" Starkweather murmured, bolting upright. "How?" "I'll explain later...Scully'll pick you up for breakfast, in a couple of hours and we'll discuss what we'll do then." Starkweather hung up the phone, and sat still on the bed, half-heartedly praying that this whole night was nothing more than a bad dream. Needing to clear her head, she decided to plait her hair in braids and change into more suitable clothes for jogging. "Ben?" She called out, timidly opening the bedroom door. "Hey listen I--" She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw that the couch hadn't been slept on, and Ben was nowhere to be found. "Sonuvabitch musta gotten a hotel room." She growled. "I hope the clerk didn't speak fucking English and the people next door were having REALLY loud sex ALL night long." She ranted, forgetting the hour. She got a bottle of water, then went back for an extra one. She was going to need to run across the country to clear her head of last nights disasters...but she would have to settle for as long as rush hour traffic would allow her. Back at the TLG lair, Sam hung up the phone. "She took that well." Sam chagrinned. "Mulder, you wanna call Scully?" "Wait to call Scully for another hour, Doggett, unless you wanna face her wrath. She'd kill both of us if we woke up Will." Deciding he was right, Sam resigned himself to try and find any connections he could with the oil company and the AFB's. an hour later... "Boys, we're not getting anywhere on this." Mulder sighed defeatedly, glancing at his watch. "We might as well give it a rest for a while." "Mulder, you think the caller would be likely to use the payphone again any time soon?" Sam asked, downing a gulp of coffee. He thought, hoping silently that Mulder wouldn't think the caller would be back. "They could be." Mulder said quietly after a moment of thoughtful silence. "It's a big possibility--especially with the trial coming up." For the first time that night, Mulder seemed hopeful. The gunmen all exchanged tortured glances, and then silently made the decision for Byers to relay it. "What if we did a stakeout of that payphone corner?" "We could at least get a handle on who's making the calls, and get our first solid link. I think that could be just what you need, Mulder." Frohike agreed. "Just bring us some supplies, ok?" Langley nasalled. "Thanks boys, I really appreciate this" Mulder said, and then looking down, evaluating his appearance, he realized he needed something else. "...but what I really need right now is a shower and a shave and a change. I gotta be at work in a few hours." "Yeah, me too." With that, Sam and Mulder left the warehouse, minds buzzing from too much caffeine and a sleepless night. "You coming to our breakfast meeting, Mulder?" Sam asked, glad to be seeing the light of day and back in his own house. It wasn't that he didn't like the boys, he just didn't like walking on eggshells constantly. "Yeah, I'll bring Scully with me. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can come up with something." Something in his tone sounded almost sad and defeated. *********************************************************** Georgetown, Scully's Apt. 7:52 am "Mulder..." Scully scolded, "God, you look awful. You would think you were the one up with Will half the night." She said, handing the baby over to Mulder. "You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago." "Morning, Sunshine." He smirked. Mulder gave her an apologetic smile and sat down at the breakfast table in her kitchen, and began absently bouncing the baby on his lap, who still had processed plums all over him. "The boys and me were up late doing some digging." "Will's developed a new sport, haven't you sweetheart?" Scully said in her Motherese voice, bending next to Mulder to wipe the purple babyfood off Will's chubby face, hands, and legs. "It's called Babyfood Toss. The one who gets the most all over Mommy's favorite blazer wins. Extra points for Mommy's hair." Then, in her professional voice, she turned to Mulder. "What did you find? "Kersh is in on it. We're meeting Starkweather and Doggett over breakfast to discuss a gameplan in about an hour." "You have *got* to be kidding." "He gets cushy dividends with that oil company in the Gulf, along with a few other top military officials." "You have *got* to be kidding." Mulder shook his head, stood up, and scooped the baby up with him, and held him over his head, sending the toddler giggling. "I don't kid about the x-files." Then he put Will down in his walker, and sat back down at the breakfast table, raking his hands through his hair. "God, Scully, this is *my* fault...I'm sorry for all this..." "All what, Mulder? What's *your* fault?" Scully asked softly, and sat across from him, every now and then steeling a glance over at Will. "If I hadn't been abducted, none of..." he broke off, not being able to finish the sentence. "That's not your fault, Mulder. You can't blame yourself for what happened. To this day, I think Skinner still feels guilty about what happened to you..." She cautiously took her hand in his, he was trembling with emotions he wasn't quite sure how to define. Scully moved next to him now, wrapping herself around his shaking form in the chair, firmly squeezing his hand. "Oh God, Scully," he choked, startled and chastising himself for breaking down in her kitchen. "I'm sorry..." "While you were gone, I tried to do our job like you did...and I couldn't...and I blamed myself for that...but when Will came, I realized that what happened is nobody's fault except the monsters that took you." "You really think they're gonna shut down the x-files this time?" He asked, walking over to the baby, and lifting him out of his walker. "They've shut us down before. Someone told me once to never give up on a miracle. We'll get to the bottom of this, and go back to chasing little green men before you know it." "They're gray." He deadpanned, and waited with the baby till she got her business suit changed and her hair rewashed. Back to the Future QLHQ Al leaned forward, anticipating Doggett's answer, not really sure what to expect. He just hoped it wouldn't be mushy. Doggett's fists clenched up. His gaze got chilly again. "Starkweather is a great gal," Doggett said. "I admire her, I respect her. I like her. Not that junior high "do you like me or you like-LIKE me" crap. I enjoy working with her, I enjoy talking to her, I enjoy her company. You are right about her marriage going down the drain. That's what we talked about the night she stayed late at my apartment. She needed to vent. The reason why she didn't tell Ben what we talked about is because she mainly referred to him as 'asshole' the entire time we talked." "Funny," Al said, "she had no problem telling THAT to his face tonight." "She's thinking about going to a lawyer," Doggett confessed. "She's thinking about getting papers drawn up. And how good is that gonna look, huh? Starkweather just blurting out 'Well, Ben, the reason why I came home so late is because I spent the night weighing the pros and cons of divorcing you with the man you think I'm screwin' on the side.' She was thinking divorce long before I was in the picture. She almost divorced him after her miscarriage-" "Miscarriage?" Al asked. "What miscarriage?" Feeling like a traitor, Doggett said, "It ain't really my story to tell. I thought you already knew, since you seem to know so much anyway... about a year ago, the Starkweathers got pregnant and when she was shopping with her mother-in-law, Starkweather started to bleed heavily and ended up losing her baby in a mall's bathroom. According to Starkweather, Ben was wonderful, supportive, so on and so forth. But when they fight, he likes to point out that if she wasn't so career and goal orientated, they might not have lost that baby. He's always apologetic of course... but..." Doggett didn't go on, for the rest of what Starkweather said that night was none of Al's business. A few days before Sam's leap into Doggett Doggett's apartment Washington DC 1:35 AM Eastern Standard Time "But wow... when he's pissed and it's in the heat of the fucking moment," Starkweather said, sitting next to Doggett on the stairs leading up to Doggett's modest patio in back of his apartment. She shook her head, finished off the last sip of warm Bud Light, then reached behind her for another frosty bottle. She gestured to Doggett, holding the beer with her good hand, holding up her useless broken wrist in the air. Doggett popped the top for her. "Thanks." "No problem." "You know, it doesn't help ME get over the miscarriage when it's constantly rubbed in my face that it's my fault," she said bitterly. "You know it's not your fault." "I know that intellectually, but in my heart... I don't know, Doggett. I mean... I wasn't ready for kids, I'm still not so I guess it's a blessing in disguise. But, my God, Doggett," there was real hurt in her smokey voice. "I heard it's heart beat. I had just been to the doctor a few days before and I listened to the heartbeat and I started to get excited and maternal. I started daydreaming if it'd be a boy or a girl, if it'd look like me or Ben. I started picking out baby names. I called Linda-" her mother-in-law "-and asked her if she wanted to come with me to pick out a crib, maybe look at baby toys. Two days later, I'm waking up in ICU in critical condition because I nearly bled out. I know Ben wanted that baby more than I did... but that was only at first. I was just scared and overwhelmed and panic- stricken and constantly nauseous and in total denial. I just didn't believe that this was happening to me. I was on the Pill. We were careful. I freaked. I was like, "I'm not ready for this." But then I listened to the heartbeat and I thought "Yes I am. I am so ready for this." But it wasn't meant to be, so I guess I'm really not. Wait, I KNOW I'm not. I can't handle the idea of putting my career on hold again to start a family and I REALLY can't handle losing another baby if Ben and I would start a family. Once is enough. You know?" Doggett had been silent throughout Starkweather's entire speech, nodded. "Yeah, I do," he thought. "My ex-wife wanted to try for another baby after we lost Luke... but..." he shook his head. "I couldn't. I didn't wanna have a kid just replace Luke, like he was the family dog who we put to sleep and we went and got a new puppy the very next day. But I didn't understand my wife's need to have mor children. She didn't see it as replacing Luke. She saw it as mourning and honoring out son and getting on with our lives. Eventually, after a long, messy divorce, she found someone else and last time I talked to her, she has had two little girls with him." The agents sat in a comfortable silence sipping beer; listening to the sounds of a city alive at night in the dog days of August. "Was it really bad?" Starkweather asked after a bit, in a small voice. "What? The divorce?" Doggett asked, reaching for another beer. Starkweather nodded her head. "Yeah," he said in his typical honesty tempered by a soft Georgia drawl. "It was bad. The last time my wife and I talked, wasn't exactly civil." "Hm," Starkweather drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. "I wonder if Ben would contest." "You're talkin' as if it's a done deal, like you've got your mind made up." Oh, Christ Almighty Papa John," Starkweather groaned. "You know what a wuss I'm being about this. One minute I'm all 'That motherfucker' but the next I'm all 'I love him!!' I don't know what the hell is going on. He whines about me never being home, but gee, I get bitchslapped by shapeshifting boogeyman and the Skin-man grants me a month of leave and Ben's gone at the office most of the time. You don't know how excited I was to come over and play cards tonight. I was to the point I was almost happy to see the Deputy Mayor." "Almost," Doggett grinned, ever conscious of the feud between Mulder and Starkweather and yet amused by the amazing (almost creepy) similarities between the two. "Almost," Starkweather said, rolling her eyes. "Not quite." "Well, it's an improvement," Doggett mollified her, not realizing the shitstorm that was going to erupt in a few days when Sam would leap into his body and he would be trying to escape the Quantum Leap compound while Sam would helplessly watch the mother of fights between Starkweather and Mulder. "I suppose," Starkweather said, also not a seer of the future, "he'd alright if he wasn't so goddamn arrogant and condescending." "Look who's talking!" "Doggett," Starkweather deadpanned, fluttering her lashes dramatically. "I DO NOT condescend." "Uh huh." "Plus I kind of have to be nice to him now since he saved my ass." A sentiment she would throw out the window the minute Mulder stormed into the X-Files office accusing her of setting him up. "How diplomatic." "I can be when I feel like it," she said airily, tossing her long hair like a proud pony. "I just wish I could find the right words to make things right with Ben... even if making things right means cutting him loose." She groaned. "This is terrible. I'm talking about dumping my husband while he's working his fingers to the bone at the office trying to secure some big high dollar law suit so we won't be so fucking broke. We got into a spat earlier tonight because he calls and tells me that this weekend we're supposed to go out with a bunch of his new friends from the law firm and their wives. He calls me as I'm doing bills and the money prognosis is not good right now. We blew our savings moving here. We quibble whether or not we can afford to go out to dinner, even though it's just going to beer and hot dogs at Hooters-" Doggett interrupted her. "Hooters?" he said in disbelief. Starkweather shrugged. "Retarded, isn't it." She looked up at the few stars brilliant enough to outshine the street lights. "But that's where his friends go after work, so... and even though money is really tight, especially with me not working at the moment... I gave in. And I hate myself for it." She sighed. "God, this sucks. I don't know what to do, Papa John." She rested her head on her knees, turning her china doll face to look at him, her hazel eyes turning into a deeper golden brown color, shaded by her turmoil. "Don't look at me!" Doggett said "I don't got the answers," as he reached over and patted his partner's arm companionably. "I know," she said miserably, reaching over with her broken wrist and resting her fingertips on his hand, which he left on her arm. "But at least you aren't pulling any fake 'it's-gonna-be-alright' bullshit answers out of your ass." "You know I won't lie to you," Doggett said seriously, slipping his hand from out under Starkweather's to push a lock of her hair out of her eyes. He hated talking to women with hair in their eyes. "I'd love to tell you that it IS gonna be alright, but we both know that's a load of BS. Just know that I've got your back no matter which way you choose, whether you're gonna stay with 'Mrs. Starkweather' or if you're going to go back to 'Dr. Bailey.'" Starkweather grinned. "Oh, no matter what happens, I'm going to stick with 'Agent Starkweather'," she said. "It sounds so much more bad-ass that 'Agent Bailey.'" She stood up and stood in front of Doggett. "I better get going... it's way late..." she unexpectedly kissed Doggett on the top of his head. "Thanks for being such a decent human being." "Doc, I do believe you're tanked." "Naaaahh," she said, weaving just a bit. "Wha' makes you shay that?" "The fact that you just slurred that entire sentence. C'mon," he said, ever the gentlemen, taking her small, calloused hand into his, touching nothing else. "You're drunk, I'm getting drunk, neither one of us is in any shape to drive you home, the bugs are gettin' bad, come on in and I'll make you some coffee." "You know," Starkweather said as Doggett lead her up the stairs and inside his apartment. "If we keep up with all this hand holding mushy sh*t, people at the Bureau might start saying we're the next Mulder and Scully." "Oh God," Doggett groaned. "I need that like a hole in my head." "I wouldn't worry about it," Starkweather said with an impish grin. "I'm sure you get laid a whole lot more than Mulder ever did." "A lady never uses vulgar language, Mrs. Starkweather." "Pbbsssst," Starkweather blew a raspberry at him. "Since when have I been a lady?" But she still held his hand. They stood in the door frame, being sucking on by little vampiric mosquitoes, close enough to kiss. Doggett and Starkweather stood there for a bit, like teenagers loathing to call a night to a close, but realizing that they had curfews to meet. Still holding his hand, Starkweather walked up to Doggett and rested her head on his chest. Doggett, feeling a bit awkward, stroked her pretty hair with his free hand, resting his cheek against her head, saying nothing, just being a friend. But she lingered a little longer than a friend would have normally, still holding his other hand, interlocking her fingers with his, squeezing. Starkweather then looked up at Doggett, and pushed him away. Maybe she heard his heart beating, maybe she heard his breath catch in his throat, but something scared her a little, because Doggett noticed she was trembling and wide-eyed like the proverbial deer in the headlight. "Look," she said "you're drunk, I'm drunk plus I'm depressed and not really in a state of mind to make rational decisions and it's not like... I mean... aw hell, Doggett, things are f*cked up as is. I don't want it to get weird." She paused, and grinned. "Damn weird." she mocked him gently. He laughed. "Jiminy Christmas," now he teased her, using her tamest expletive. "Relax. It's not going to get weird, Mrs. Starkweather." Doggett, holding her good hand, the left hand, lifted it up and pecked it like a gentlemen. He examined the diamond solitaire glistening on the pinkie finger. "Wrong finger, Doc," he said. "I can't get it on the correct finger at the moment," Starkweather said. "How about that coffee," she said, customary smirk on her face, walking inside, crisis past... Back at QLHQ As Doggett glared at Al, he thought **How am I supposed to explain that when I don't even understand what the hell happened myself?** 9:05 AM FBI Headquarters Deputy Director Kersh's office ******************************** "Assistant Director, you should be commended." Kersh began coolly. "With the exception of a few incidents regarding Agents Mulder, Scully, and Doggett, your work record is spotless." "So for all my efforts, I should be getting stocked up on suntan and flamingos, and expect my company watch in the mail?" Skinner glowered. It wasn't in his character to snap at his superiors, but then again, it wasn't in his character to give up on what was right, either. After all that he had been through for the x-files office, after all everyone involved had sacrificed for the Truth, he couldn't just walk away. He owed Mulder that much. "For all your efforts, I was going to say that you should be very proud of what you have done, Assistant Director. You seem to have a win-win situation on your hands, A.D. Skinner." Skinner clinched his jaw, not wanting to hear his options out. "What do I win-win here, sir?" "Allow Agents Doggett and the Deputy Mayor to testify on behalf of the Bureau and close their investigations into this matter, and rest easy with a tidy pention. It will be not only good publicity for the FBI, but it will exhonorate the Deputy Mayor. You would be a damn fool not to cooperate with me on this one, A.D. We all get what we want here. Before you make your decision, I have already allowed litigations to be carried out on the matter. Fox Mulder and John Doggett both have subpoenas, as well as Dana Scully and Jerilyn Starkweather." "Sir," Skinner almost-growled, trying hard to keep his voice controlled and steady, "if those agents testify, then you may very well loose any chance you ever had of recovering any of the injustices that had transpired on that oil rig." "Then that is a risk we will have to take." Kersh said, standing now behind his desk. "Those testimonies very well may bring light on the truth. I am trying to do what is best for the FBI here. Frankly, we need good publicity right now with all that's happened around here lately. If the country knows how dedicated its top agents are, it just may do the trick." "Don't think I'll be bribed to leave my position, sir." Skinner said, standing up now and almost shouting. "I cannot sell out to the people under me." "That will be all, A.D." Kersh said crisply, and Skinner stormed out. Skinner wasn't back from the meeting for five minutes before the phone rang. "Skin--" Mulder was saying, but Skinner broke him off. "Mulder if you start that Skin-man crap with me today you would rather have your face ripped off again." He growled, throwing his glasses down, clinching his jaw and raking the tip of his fingers up and down his sinuses. "We've got a situation on our hands here, Sir. Scully's left to get Starkweather, and Doggett's on his way over. I don't wanna say over FBI phones what it is." Mulder said on the other end of the line, hoping that the clank-crash he just heard wasn't an irreparable disaster. "You don't know the half of it." Skinner growled. "Everything alright on your end? "Yeah, I'm babysitting at Scully's right now...that kid is superhuman, right, Sir?" "Cut the "sir" crap, Mulder...you're not working for me anymore..." "How soon can you get over here?" He said, frantically trying to conceal the dent in the plaster of Scully's kitchen wall that Will's walker had just made with duct tape. Will, still in his walker, was gurgling and clapping his hands. "I'll be over there in about half an hour." He hung up and told Kimberly to hold all his calls and that he'd be gone for an undisclosed amount of time. "If Kersh calls for me, tell him to go to hell." He said in all seriousness, and stormed out to the FBI parking lot. Washington, D.C. Le Pane Cafe (A French Cafe in Downtown Washington) 9:13 AM ****************** Only if you were people-watching would you notice the two elderly men sitting at one of the tables in the back of the cafe. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for all this." One of the men said, swatting at freshly puffed smoke blown carelessly in his face. "My little Jerri can finally have all she deserves. My wifes' last memory should not have been--" the man's broken voice trailed off, emotionally unable to form the words to complete it. "I should be grateful to you, Admiral." Said the other man in a callous, steady voice, taking another puff of his Morley. "All my work has come to this. He has served his purpose for us, and it is too dangerous for him to continue. Who knows who else's lives he's destroyed. Justice can finally be done, thanks to your help. You will be remembered for this. I will see that Agent Starkweather gets all you've ever wanted for her." "My son-in-law will see to that." "I have no doubt that he takes care of her, but he may prevent us from finishing our task if his investigations are fruitfull in this matter in the Gulf. We cannot fail this time, Admiral. Your daughter depends upon it." He absently took another puff of his cigarette. "What do you need me to do? "All I need you to do for her to get that is to set a trap." "What kind of a trap?" "A foxtrap." "It will be done." "For your little girl's sake, I hope so." The old man put out his cigarette and walked out, as if nothing was discussed. 9:07 AM In Scully's car on the way back to her apartment ************************************************* Starkweather and Scully sat in silence for a while. It wasn't that they didn't feel like talking...just that the radio was the only thing keeping Scully from falling asleep at the wheel. The Monkees were blaring over the airwaves at fullblast. I thought love was only true in fairytales Meant for someone else but not for me love was out to get me that's the way it .... ...the signal wavered out for a couple of lines as they passed under a bridge... Now I'm a believer Not a trace of doubt in my mind Starkweather, needing either music to be pissed-off by or to scream, abruptly cut the radio off. "Something up Starkweather?" Scully asked, after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Ben and I had a knock-down drag-out last night. He got a hotel." "What about?" "I don't even know anymore." She confided. "I tried to talk him out of prosecuting the oil company case, and he made it crystal clear that he doesn't want me in the FBI anymore." "Is that what *you* want?" Scully implored her, glancing at her as soon as traffic allowed. "I want to make this marriage work. Love is such a godaamn bitch!" "For what it's worth, Starkweather, you're an asset to this office. I don't know if we would've found the connection with Kersh without your digging around the AFB's. And don't let what Mulder said yesterday get to you, either. He may be an arrogant shithead sometimes, but his heart's in the right place. Besides, I told him if he starts anything with you at this meeting he would opt to go back with the aliens. So you'll call a truce?" Starkweather cracked a small smile. "Only if you help me come up with a new nickname for him." "I think that can be arranged." She said with a wan smile. They erupted into peels of giggling like two high school girls as Scully pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex. Meanwhile Back at the QLHQ that morning Al came in, so proud of his new suit, an obnoixious metallic maroon zoot-suit, with a relatively sober black dress blouse and a skinny matching "Regis" metallic black tie. Goushie looked up. "Geez, Al, don't stand in direct sunlight, you'll blind everyone." "HA. HA." Al grumbled, not a morning person. "How's Ziggy?" "Well..." Goushie hedged. "We still working on the error that's allowing Mulder and Starkweather to see you." "Starkweather can't see me," Al wearily reminded him. "Just hear." "Um... not yet..." "What?" "Um..." Now Goushie cringed. "We think we've picked up a computer virus somewhere and it's mutating. We've got some other programs that are going absolutely haywire right now, but as of right now, nothing that will directly affect Sam's leap," he rushed on, eager to reassure Al. "Unless something else goes caca and poof, here I am in front of that wildcat. This is a secure building, Goushie" Al growled. "Only certain people have access to the Internet and our Intranet. How did a virus get into our systems?" "Um, we think one of the boys from Marine Security Forces disabled the security lock-out so he can surf the World Wide Web for porn," Goushie was now visibly sweating. "We've got it nailed down to three suspects right now, they're in lock up." "Oh that's just great. Terrific. Marvelous. Marines... the Few, the Proud, the Horny," Al ranted. "How's Sam doing?" he asked him. "Not good," Goushie, through Ziggy, was able to monitor Sam's vital stats through every leap. "His blood pressure is higher than I've ever seen on any other leap. Heart rhythms going batsy too." "Whaddya mean?" Al asked. "Does Agent Rabid Dog's body have a heart condition that we don't know about?" "No," Goushie was quick to assure him. "When Agent Doggett is in Agent Doggett's body, he takes very good care of himself. He eats like a pig, but he runs it all off. He was up at the butt crack of dawn, doing calthestinics." "Goody for him," Al said sourly. He too saw dawn's early light, but that was when he was going home for a shower and a short nap. "What about Sam?" "Sam's in a state of hyped up adrenline. Too much sugar, too much caffeine, too much stress. And this is only one day. He's going to burn out fast if he doesn't get some down time." "Time???" Al groaned. "Goushie, we don't GOT time, you know that!! We are literally," Al looked at his watch "hours away from Benny boy from being lifted. Ziggy's sick with a virus, all I got about the Missus Starkweather from Doggett was a whole lot of nothin'. Sam's out there, twisting in the wind..." a horrible thought crossed Al's mind. "Goushie, this virus is nowhere near the mainframe or the power grid... is it?" "That's the other thing I've got to tell you..." Goushie said timidly. "We may have to shut down Ziggy for a few hours to-" "NO!" Al thundered at the poor scientist. "We CAN NOT shut down, we CAN NOT leave Sam back there on his own!" "What happens if we crash out completely?" Goushie fired back. "What if this virus gets into the modems of the Crays and we go down for days??? Weeks? Sam could leap and we would lose precious time trying to find him. We may never find him. He'd be good as dead." Al's normally jovial face looked puckered and drawn. He pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it, chewing it ferociously. "Look," Goushie said tiredly. "Shutting down is our last resort. The techs are on it right now, trying to reconfigure the coding, to contain the virus so it doesn't spread. They've already got the firewalls built. So far except for the hologram glitch, Ziggy is virtually untouched, knock on wood. The only problem for Ziggy that this virus is causing is that it will not let us de- configure your brainwaves from Mulder's and sub consequentially Starkweather's. As of this moment, it is a issue, but a controlled one. The problem is what could happen if we don't figure out how to wipe that little bugger out of Ziggy. This virus has also gotten into a few office computers and wreaked hell. The techs are using those as cadavers if you will to figure out how the hell to stop this thing if the virus reconforms, figures out how to bypass the firewalls and start to take a trip down Ziggy's Memory Lanes. If we shut Ziggy down, it would be for five, six hours max to do a diagnostic and maybe, if worse comes to worse, put a new motherboard in her main modem, reboot, reinstall the Quantum Leap programming and bring her back up at the bare mimimum of capacity until we get her other systems powered up and operational. The holding chamber is on a completely different driver than Ziggy. That does not need to power down. If for some reason, Sam leaps, we've got power to support the leap. The problem is we won't be able to track him for at least a day. The tracking capabilities are tied to the holographic imagining chamber which is directly tied to Ziggy. If Ziggy gets completely infected and goes down..." "Sam goes down too," Al muttered. "Alright, Goush. Do what you gotta do, but WARN me if and when you gotta tuck the old girl in for a nap. Sam should be aware that he might be swimming alone for a few hours." "If it happens, it will happen in approximately 72 hours." Goushie said. "If... and Al, please, remember, this is a BIG if, if it needs to happen, we've scheduled it to be offline at night." "At night!" Al groaned, shuffling towards the imagining chamber. "Goush, buddy, this is an X-File, all the good stuff happens at night. Ziggy!" he called out. "Sorry you're not feeling well honey, but I need to see Sam right away...." Doggett Residence Georgetown, VA 7:51 AM ******************* Sam was not doing well. His heart was beating at an unnaturally fast pace, and his medical training told him that he couldn't live like this much longer without going into cardiac arrest. If he couldn't get to Ben Starkweather in time, who knows how long he would be in that state? Al was waiting for him in Doggett's house after his long night with the Gunmen. "How's it going Sam?" "Besides being in a constant state of hypertention, fine." "I know, pal. Just hang in there, we'll getchya through this. Doggett's calmed down back there, but one of the stupid marines got Ziggy a virus. We may need to shut down." "They can't shut Ziggy down! Al," Sam was panicking, "Ben gets killed by the end of today if I can't--they can't--" Sam felt his head spinning. "Calm down, Sam. It's only a possibility right now, we've got all the personnel we have on this one, making sure that doesn't happen. You, Spooky, and the three stooges find anything last night?" "Kersh is in on it." "Why am I not surprised." Al said, and took a puff of his cigar. "I'm due over at Scully's in a little while with everyone to come up with a gameplan. Can you nail an exact time for Ben's death?" "Coroners placed the time of death between 4 and 4:30 am tonight." "So, all I need to do is find a way to prove the connection between Kersh and the oil company before the end of the day. Any ideas?" "I'll go and talk to Doggett back there, see if he can say anything. Figure out what you can from the A.D. and I'll pool my resources to see what we can dig up." "Remember, hang in there. We'll do what we can to get you outta here as fast as possible." said Al, trying to be optimistic, and opened the chamber door. Sam got a shower and changed clothes, and left for Scully's apartment. ***************************************************** Scully's Apt. Georgetown, VA 9:35 AM **************** "Scully, don't go into your kitchen." Mulder said, grinning sheepishly as soon as her and Starkweather walked through the door. "We're having the meeting here. I just called Skinner over." "Mulder? What did you do to my--where's Will?" She said, eyes widening, going to the kitchen. "OH MY GOD! Muuuuuuuuuuulder!!" "Sorry Scully, I'll get you a new kitchen wall." Then turning to Starkweather, says "So, Starkweather, can we call it a truce?" "If you count a bib with little ducks on it a white flag, sure." She said, awkwardly looking around the apartment. "Have a seat." Mulder said. "Just for the record, I'd like to forget our little discussion earlier." "I'll take that as an apology. So whatchya got?" "You guys playing nice?" Scully said, coming out of the kitchen. "It is not perhaps the warmest of friendships." Mulder said, taking a seat on a chair across from Starkweather. He noticed for the first time how much her eyes looked like his fathers'. "Scully, you made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I won't send him postcards, but I won't murder him." Starkweather said, doing her best impression of Marlon Brando. "Cue the mandolins." Scully deadpanned, going into the kitchen to rescue Will from his rocker. "Hey, Scully," Mulder called after her, "If they made a movie about us again, what do you think about Al Pacino playing me? He's cool." Mulder said, taking the baby. "He's a god, but, Mulder, I thought Paul Reiser was in 'Mad About You'" Scully teased, giving Starkweather an "I-can't- believe-we're-having-this-discussion" look. "You wanna hold the baby?" Mulder asked Starkweather, handing her the baby. "Who'll they get to play me?" Starkweather whined, and then in baby-talk, giving the baby a raspberry in between words. "Yeeeeeees Will, who *phhhhbbbbbwwwwt* will *phhhhhhhbbbbbwwwt* play phhhhhhbbbbbwwwt* me?" "Oh, we'll get the special effects guys to come with something for your part." Scully and Starkweather both flashed Mulder a warning look. Mulder was saved just then as the doorbell rang. Scully went to get the door. "Thanks for your help on this. Come on in, John." "Hey, that bad guy from T2 would be PERFECT to play Doggett." Mulder smirked. "Shut up, Mulder." Sam returned dryly. Skinner came to the door as soon as Sam came in the door, and Mulder showed them both in. Sam went over to Starkweather and Will, and looked disbelieving over at Mulder and Scully. "Look, Starkweather," he said taking the baby, "finally someone Mulder can relate to around here." "So what are we going to do?" Mulder asked collectively. They all sat there, all exchanging blank glances for a few awkward minutes. "Mulder, how does Canada sound?" Skinner suggested, looking at Will as though he would go off. 9:35AM Lawfirm, of Spangle, Carter, and Adams **************************************** "Questions for Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder..." Ben dictated into the mini tape recorder. "Please explain to the court the circumstances under which you left the FBI. Please explain to the court why you went against official orders. Please explain to the court why you ordered quarantine. Please describe to the court what you found on that oilrig. Please describe to the court the circumstances under which you left the oil rig." He paused to flip over the tape. "Why do I get the feeling that the jury won't accept the bullshit answers the fucking Deputy Mayor is going to give me?" "Spooky will at least give the jury something to laugh at in the deliberation room. Jury duty for an environmental trial isn't exactly the feel-good event of the year." "Deputy Director, always a pleasure to see you sir." Ben said with a smile, shaking his hand and offering the man a seat. "My wife hasn't been sent to the principle's office today, has she?" He said with a grin. "No, Counselor. This isn't about your wife. This is about your first big case. I want you to know that you've got a friend in the FBI, one who will do everything he can to help you bring justice to whomever is to blame." "Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. The Assistant Director isn't as cooperative, and neither is my wife." "Well believe me, Mr. Starkweather, they both will pay for their behavior if it has obstructed justice in any way. I came to personally deliver the litigation papers on behalf of the FBI to help move the process along smoothly. You will find everything in order." "Again, thank you sir. It is a relief to know someone in your building is concerned with serving justice. I will make sure the integrity of the FBI remains intact in the process." "I apologize for any complication that may have arisen on behalf of my colleagues. I guess some people just don't take their jobs seriously." Kersh said, and rose from his chair, dropping a scrap of paper from his folder, and left before Ben could hand it back to him. Kersh: "Discuss oil company matter at Lincoln Warehouse 5:30 second floor." CBGS Ben crumpled the note up and tossed it into the wastebasket, and glanced back down at his legal pad. He got the mini tape-recorder out and pressed record. "Questions for FBI Special Agent John Doggett. Please discribe to the court what you found on the oil rig. Please explain the circumstances under which you left the oil rig. Please explain to me what you've been doing with my *WIFE!*" He shouted, and threw the mini tape recorder across the floor. He took the peice of paper out of his pocket again, and unfolded it, twirling it around between his forefinger and middle finger. He went back to the wastebasket and picked up the crumpled note, and unfolded it. He shoved it into his pocket, and turned the tape recorder on again. Forgetting that the tape recorder was still on, he took the peice of paper out of his pocket again, and unfolded it, twirling it around between his forefinger and middle finger. What he wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall at that meeting. Maybe that meeting could give him the answers. It could give him proof of who Agent Doggett really was, and if Jerilyn could see that, maybe she would stop this stupid FBI kick she's on. He could have Mrs. Starkweather back, and all would be as it should be. He picked up the phone, calling his secretary. "Cindy, do I have any appointments between 4:30 and 6:30 this afternoon?" A few seconds later, a perky voice chirped, "Yes. You have a 5 with your dentist. Ben said inaudibly licking his teeth, "I need you cancel that for me, please. Something's come up that can't be moved." "It's done, Mr. Starkweather. Should I make another dental appointment?" "Um...I'll let my teeth rot Cindy, thanks." He said, and hung up. Yes, everything was definitely looking up. 9:04 AM Scully's Apt. ************ "I don't like the Blue Jays." Mulder deadpanned, shaking his head. "You guys have no idea how much I want to help put that snake back in the grass...but I have my own job, and I've already taken too many sick days." "We know, Mulder." Sam said. "You're forgetting that this isn't just *your* crusade anymore. It's *my* job now, and Scully's and Starkweathers to find the Truth that's in those files." Sam didn't know what he'd do if he was forced out of his own project. "Bottom line is we gotta get into Kersh's office somehow." Starkweather said, pacing back and forth. "We need some way to find out when he's not going to be there for sure." "Skinner, can you get a hold of his planner?" Scully asked, rescuing Will from Sam, who was scheduled for his morning nap in a half an hour. "I can try, Scully," Skinner answered, looking decidedly uncomfortable so close to Will. He couldn't help but warm up to the baby when Will refexively reached out for his nose. When Skinner leaned closer, the baby promptly pulled Skinner's glasses off. "But even if I was able to get a hold of his planner, there's no telling if he has any time away from his office before the trial. I'm going to have to create a diversion." Skinner said, perching his glasses back in their proper place. "What if I tailed Ben?" Sam suggested. He mentally added. "Doggett," Mulder started, "As much as I'd love to see the crap kicked outta ya, I can't let you do that. What would it accomplish except waste time we need finding to spend finding proof?" <"It would keep Ben alive!"> Sam inwardly protested. Too bad he couldn't tell Mulder. "Besides," Starkweather agreed, "as much as it pains me to agree with Mulder, it wouldn't look exactly Kosher for someone my husband thinks is gettin' freaky with me to be caught following the lawyer who is about to grill his ass on the stand." "She's got a point, Doggett." Scully agreed. "Mulder, Starkweather, tailing Ben is the only way we can make sure Ben doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve." "Doggett," Scully protested, "If you're tagging Mr. Starkweather, I'm going with you." "Scully, I can't let you do that! How What are you going to do about Will?" "Agent Reyes can sit with him. Doggett, I'm not letting you go out there alone." "Doggett's right," Starkweather interjected, "Let me go." "Starkweather," Skinner protested, "we need someone to sneak into Kersh's office for evidence during the diversion." "I wonder if Angie Dickenson ever had these problems." Starkweather deadpanned. "Alright, gang..." Mulder said, sighing heavily. "I hate to break this party up, but I have to go be a paper-pusher for a while. Let me know how everything turns out later. Who knows? Maybe I can get a buzz watching paint dry today." "Mulder," Scully protested, "while you're high on the paint, just make sure you don't do what you did on the chloral hydrate in Texas." "I don't care WHAT you say," Mulder started protesting, heading out the door, "I did NOT recite the beginning of Shaft." "Sure. Fine. Whatever." Scully deadpanned. "Scully?" Starkweather gawked, "The beginning of Shaft! Oh MY GOD! He DIDN'T!!" To which Mulder inappropriately gestured to Starkweather on the way out a slamming door. "Yee Haw." Sam said dryly. 9:37 AM The Lone GunmenMobile On the Corner of 23rd and Pennsylvania *************************************** "Mulder owes us BIG TIME for this one." Frohike grumbled, pulling the van into the corner. "Geez, Frohike." Langly whined. "Man....there's this wonderful product called DEODERANT!!!!! Ever hear of it?" "For Christ's sake, Langly. Did you get those damn Funions again? The van will smell like shit for WEEKS." "It wasn't me!" Langly protested, "it was Byers. He had a burrito last night for dinner. Beans, beans the musical fruit, the more you eat the more you..." "If I only had a brain." Byers sang barely audibly under his breath. "You see what I see, Frohickey?" Langly said, looking through the camera lens. "Yeah, Langly." Frohike answered, taking the camera lens from him, pointing it away from the phone booth. "Damn, she's tasty. I bet you could eat breakfast on her ass." "Would you cut that out!" Byers said through his teeth, snatching the camera away from Frohike. "That is Agent Monica Reyes coming going to the FBI building! If she spots us we are dead. Do you HEAR me boys?! DEAD!! Stay DOWN!" They all crouched down under the windshield, and then all three simultaneously, cautiously peered above the steering wheel. "Langly," Frohike glowered, "could you kindly get your FOOT OUT OF MY CROTCH!" "It's ok, she doesn't know the van yet..." Byers said, "...we're safe." "Byers, who's that blonde coming up behind her?" Frohike grumbled, "Ohhhh Christ, doesn't that look like Starkweather?" Byers and Langley both nodded simultaneously. "It's ok, isn't it?" Byers asked, now looking with his bare eyes. "She doesn't know the van. The only way we'd be dead right now is if..." All three men's eyes expanded three sizes at the same time as they saw a familiar red head moving toward them. "Oh shit..." Langly whispered "It's Scully!" Byers gulped. "We're cooked!" Frohike grumbled. "Very astute observance. That would be my evaluation of the situation." Byers deadpanned as he saw the door handles to the passenger side turning. "Are we insured?" "Boys," Frohike said, patting them both on the shoulder, "it was nice knowing you." He tried to bail out the back, but Starkweather was poised, trigger-happy. "Byers," Scully started, cocking her gun underneath his chin. "Don't think I won't pull the trigger. What the H*LL do you think your doing?" Starkweather was holding Frohike in much the same position, she had jumped him a few seconds ago, pinning his arm behind his back, and face down, had a gun ready to fire into the back of his head. "Nice..." Langly's Adams' apple bobbed three times... "day for a ride, ladies?" "We...were just in the...neighborhood..." Frohike whispered. "...and don't try and cover up for Mulder. His *ss is next if he put you up to this." "We're dead!" Byers grumbled. "I'm going to die. I'm going to die a virgin." "Ha! Pay up, Frohickey!" Langley shouted triumphantly. "Hey, at least I'm secure in my sexuality." Byers protested, and lurched forward until the barrel of Scully's gun was shoved in his nose. "Don't knock it 'till ya tried it." Langly nasalled, causing everyone to gawk at him. "Not that I ever--Scully, I swear, it wasn't my idea! Please let me live!" Reyes, who had her gun poised and ready to fire just behind Langley's ear grinned and said "I had a *feeling* there was going to be an ass-whuppin' today." Starkweather, backing off of Frohike, but gun still pointed at him, turned to Reyes saying "Feelin' nothin', Agent Reyes. With the Idiot Troopers an ass-whuppin' is in the forecast 100 peerrrrrcent." "Feelings, nothing more than feelings." Frohike sang off- key under his breath, shutting up abruptly at the click of Starkweather's cocking gun. "Spill it boys." Scully glowered. "What are you doing here?" "Mulder found out that a number from that payphone" Byers said in rapid-fire, jerking his head behind him. "was called lots of times..." "Twenty six times." Langley interrupted. "To someone high-up in the FBI, and we needed to know who was making those calls." Frohike continued, almost running his words into one, and finally daring to get up with Starkweather's gun still pointed at him. "So Mulder could get a solid lead on a connection between the oil company and the FBI." Byers said, who had finally been allowed free from Scully's death-grip and was now straightening his tie and jacket. Reyes, Starkweather, and Scully all exchanged evaluating glances, and silently came to an agreement that their story was believable. "They may be dolts, but they're not liars." Scully said. "We're dolts?" All three echoed simultaneously. "Why didn't Mulder tell us that?" Starkweather demanded Scully. "We thought Mulder sent you guys to spy on us." Explained Reyes. "Boys, let us know if you find anything." Starkweather said, and closed the back door. "Nice seeing you again." "We'll have to do this again sometime." Byers said, grinning like an idiot. "As much as we'd love to chat," Reyes said, shutting the driver side's door at the same time Scully shut the passenger side door, "We've got work to do." Scully said, and shut the door, making all those in the van feel almost sorry for Mulder... "Scully!" Frohike called after her, Scully opened the door, "so this whole assault on us was to get Mulder?" …almost. "No…" Scully said with a sly grin crossing her lips, "I have my own reasons for beating the crap outta you guys." "Being?" Byers whimpered, wondering what he did to deserve his punishment. "Two words…" Scully replied. "Vegas Payback." Byers landed his head on the steering wheel, setting the horn off. "I told you that was a bad idea, man." Langley said to Frohike with a thwack on the back of his head. "My idea!" Frohike was protesting as Scully shut the door, "Byers is the one who hadda needed to get laid." "Can't blame a guy for trying." Langley shrugged as Reyes closed her door. Assistant Director Skinner's Office 10:00 AM Eastern Time Assistant Director Walter Skinner had prided himself on being a "by-the-book" kind of man. Not in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine hitching along for a ride on the wild side. Part of him was screaming at him "Jesus, Walt! You are less than two years away from retirement and pension. Why are you throwing it all away now??" The other part, the part that rose above his uptightness to stand down Krycek, stand next to Mulder and to stand up to the Smoking Man when he was still running the show, said "It's the Right Thing to Do." And he knew it was. But it still felt wrong. Still, he got out his cell phone and dialed Starkweather's number. "Are you ready?" he asked her. "I've always wanted to be Mata Hari." "Agent Starkweather," Skinner hissed. "may I remind you of the seriousness of this matter? If you get caught, I can't help you." "With all due respect," Starkweather said sweetly "if YOU get caught, I can't help you either, so it's sink or swim for both of us. I'd rather go down grinning than getting my knickers in a twist about it." "You're a pain in the ass, Agent Starkweather." "Yes sir." "Be carefull." "You too, sir." Starkweather shut her cell off and looked at Scully and Sam-in-Doggett with an evil grin. "It's game time, sports fans. Let's get it on!" In front of the elevator The basement of J Edgar Hoover "So that dark-haired woman was Agent Reyes?" Starkweather asked Scully as she acted as point-guard while they waited for the elevator elevator. "Everything happened so fast, I didn't have time to properly introduce myself." Scully smiled. "Oh, I'm sure you two will have a chance to talk at greater length in the future." Sam inwardly groaned. According to the "current" future, Ben was going to die soon, then Mulder, then Starkweather, then... Sam didn't want to think about it. The elevator whirred down and the doors swished. Scully and Sam got in. "Don't get killed!" Starkweather cheerily bade them farewell as the elevator doors slammed shut, taking her back to the depths of the J Edgar Hoover building. "She has a way with words, doesn't she?" Scully remarked blandly as they rode the elevator to the parking garage. "Yeah..." <> Sam thought. ******************* Meanwhile... Skinner picked up the phone. "Deputy Director, might I have a moment of your time?" "What is this concerning, Assistant Director?" The words were pleasant enough, but the tone of voice was frigid. "I've been placed in charge with setting up a task force to monitor possible cult activities in Idaho. I need to talk to you about budgeting and manpower. After Waco and Ruby Ridge, no one is really eager to be a team player when it comes to missions like this." Skinner said evenly, knowing that this would appeal to Kersh's hardcore belief of "The FBI MUST look good at all costs." "I have some time." Kersh said slowly. "Let's meet in the cafeteria," Skinner suggested. "I haven't had breakfast yet," which was true. He had declined the doughnuts at Scully's, instead, drinking cup after cup of her good Vienna Roast coffee. Known more for his girth than his mirth, Kersh agreed. "I'll meet you down there in five minutes." Kersh hung up the phone and went to his file to dig up old cases to use as possible scenarios on how to handle the situation. Skinner redialed Starkweather's cell on his own mobile. Starkweather, who was already back down in the dungeon, was piling files after files on her desk. "Starkweather." "We're meeting in five minutes." "Bring it on," she said to him, hung up, put the last file on top of the tottering stack on her desk. She dialed Skinner's secretary's extension. "Kimberly, hi, it's Agent Starkweather, look I have a BIG favor to ask of you, Skinner asked me to up some old X-Files cases to him, anything that has to do with cult involvement. I've got the case files here, but I completely forgot that the about the rule about not letting the originals leave the office and I have no time to photocopy them," she could feel Kimberly's blood pressure rising. "I'm so sorry, I hate dumping this on you but it would save my ass..." Kimberly stifled a sigh. "I suppose so," the long suffering receptionist muttered. "Say..." Starkweather said, as if the thought had just hit her. "Maybe Kersh's secretary can help you. Kersh won't be there barking orders at the poor girl, she'd probably be happy to get away from him." Starkweather felt relief when Kimberly tittered in nervous laughter. She didn't like Kersh either. As soon as she finished the call, Starkweather beat feet into the bathroom and waited for the secretaries to come downstairs. Starkweather didn't have to wait long. She heard two female voices outside. "Ew, it smells funny down here," Kersh's receptionist commented in disgust. "That's from all the dead bodies they hide down here," Kimberly replied. "Really?" "Naw, I'm just pulling your leg," Kimberly said. "But you know what I heard?" Starkweather rolled her eyes. The women had chosen to stop and gossip in front of the bathroom door. she griped to herself. "What?" "I heard that Agents Mulder and Scully used to come in on Saturday afternoons and just go at it right on the floor of their office." "No!" "Yes!" Starkweather bowed her head and put her palm to her forehead in supreme irritation. < "Well," Kersh's receptionist said tartly. "Just goes to show how spooky those two are. I mean, it's not like they're the first male-female to have an affair, but most of them prefer motel rooms." "I know! And Agent Scully was well... you know... **normal** before she started working with Mulder... although, can you hardly blame her, the man is to die for." Kimberly said dramatically. Starkweather thought she was going to vomit. "Oh, I know, I saw him on TV last night for a City Counsel meeting and he was all cleaned up, in a three piece suit... oh! He looked like he could have been on the cover of GQ. Such a sexy man. If I wasn't married..." "Speaking of married..." "What?" "I think the other two agents are trying to follow in Mulder and Scully's path..." "Agent Doggett and.... But I thought Starkweather was married?" <> Starkweather fumed. The voices started to die away just as the conversation was getting interesting. Starkweather pushed her massive irritation away from her (for now) and slipped out of the bathroom and to the stairs where she ran towards her current mission... Nailing Kersh.