Starkweather slipped unnoticed into the first room of Kersh's office, the secretary's office. She shut the door with a sigh of relief. She went over to Kersh's door and tried to open it. "You snake from the bowels of hell," she snarled when she discovered the Deputy Director had locked his office door. "You act like a man with something to hide." She reached up and fumbled around with her hair, pulled, as usual, severely up and back in a neat bun. She found a hairpin and as she jimmied the lock, she sighed. "This is so Nancy Drew-ish." The lock popped open and Agent Jerilyn Starkweather stepped into the monsters lair. Starkweather sniffed the air, her mind calculating every observation, forgetting nothing. <> Cradling her bad right wrist in her hand, she sat down at Kersh's elegant mahogany desk. "Son of a bitch gets a mahogany desk and I get plywood. How is this fair?" She asked herself as she opened his desk drawer and riffled through his papers with a gentle lover's touch. Her clumsy right hand, still in a cast from her rather unfortunate run in with an alien bounty hunter accidently knocked over a stack of books that were teetering on the edge of his desk. "Shit!" Starkweather jumped at the deafening noise and looked up, half expecting to see a SWAT team descend upon her. When no big burly men dressed in black stormed the doors, Starkweather bent down to pick up the books. "'Roots' by Alex Haley. Man," she snickered, immensely pleased with her superior intellect, "I read this when I was ten. 'Kiss the Girls' by James Patterson..." a huge movie buff, she wondered aloud: "I wonder if this is better than the movie," she adored Morgan Freeman. She moved on to the next book. "'The Silence of the Lambs'... okay, Kersh, now you're scaring me." Lastly, she picked up a yellow legal pad and thumbed through it. "Hello... since when did NASDAQ have anything to do with the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" On the sixth page of the legal pad, scribbled in the corner in Kersh's bad handwriting, were notes that would be gibberish to most, but a lexicon of knowledge and information to a rabid stockholder. "You rat-bastard," she seethed as she rearranged the books and notebook back on his desk exactly as it was. "And you know everything I touch in this office is inadmissible, don't you. Scum sucking, bed-wetting, foul-smelling troll of a man... hello..." Starkweather's eyes lit upon Kersh's Day Planner. "La la la," she sang under her breath as she undid the clasp... ********************************************* Meanwhile at the cafeteria Skinner kept his face stony as Kersh went on and on and on about how vital it was that the FBI's reputation remains unmarred. He was vehementally against Skinner's stakeout plans in Idaho, which he knew he would be. It was just a carrot for the ass to bite. Little did the ass know that Skinner was riding him, making him move forward by holding that carrot ahead of him on a string. Skinner tried not to look at the clock but couldn't help it. He didn't know how much busy work Starkweather left for the hapless secretaries. He didnt' know how much time she needed in Kersh's office. His stomach was in knots but as usual, he didn't show it, just pleasantly sipped his coffee and listened to his boss enjoy the sound of his own voice. ****************************************** Meanwhile back to the future... Doggett sat alone in the imaging chamber, trying to stave off boredom but not really suceeding. Even after Al's barraging, he still didn't quite believe what was going on plus it ticked him off momentously that every question Al posed for him was all about Starkweather. She was married. That's it. End of story. But as persistent as the scrappy little Italian-American Admiral was, Doggett couldn't help but wonder WHY he was so concerned for his spitfire partner. As she was fond of reminding everyone, Starkweather was a big girl, she could take care of herself... So Doggett sat there and tried to fight the boredom for he knew that boredom led to nervousness, nervousness led to fear, fear led to mistakes... Still, he couldn't help but worry... <> Then, the lights flickered, went out, and turned back on. Doggett could hear the sounds of computers rebooting from the outside. <> Al was with Goushie when the lights began to flicker. "Oh crap, what the hell is THIS??" Al gestured upwards pointing to the lights. Goushie fled to his read-out screen. "The virus has moved! It jumped the firewall. Oh geez... it's in the main power grid," he began typing frantically. "I'm moving Ziggy's power over to the backup generator A." Goushie typed and moved his mouse frantically. "Call the techs," Goushie said, wiping sweat out of his eyes. "Tell them to shut the main power grid down on my count." Al, for once, did what he was told without questioning. "Hello? Yeah, we know about the power grid. Goush's already moving Ziggy's juice over to a backup generator. He said to shut down the main power on his count," he covered the mouthpiece. "They're ready," he handed the phone over to Goushie. "Okay, on my count... three, two .... one, NOW!" The lights went off again, but went back on just as fast. All the computers, except for Ziggy went down. Only half of them rebooted. "I took half of the personal computers offline to save power," Goushie said. "Crap, this is worst than expected." "What happened Goush?" Al's voice had a dangerous ring to it. "I thought this was under control." Goushie said. "According to my readouts, Ziggy's still okay. Her RAM, her hard-drive, her modem... all that's still good to go. The virus traveled through her uplink to the computer that controls the power. We've got three more backup generators besides the one we're on now, besides that, the techs are out there as we speak, fixing up the main powergrid so that will be as good as gold by the end of the day. So it's not losing power that I'm afraid of." "It's Ziggy." Goushie nodded. "The only clue we're going to have that Ziggy's starting to circle the drain is if you appear to Starkweather." "That hasn't happened yet." "You haven't been around her lately." Al grimaced. This was true. "That's too big of risk to take. Having that wildcat see me. She already thinks she's going insane because she can hear me..." Al let himself into the holding chamber. The only source of amusement Al was getting out of this entire leap was how uncomfortable and self-conscious Doggett-in-Sam was in that tight tight tight white leotard. Doggett always looked like he was looking for a hole to dive into. In fact, his first words to Al was: "Hey, if I'm going to be here for awhile, could I at least have a pair of pants?" "We've got bigger problems than your britches right now, Marine," Al sat down. "We gotta talk. You gotta help me. We're in big trouble." That was plain talk and that was what Doggett responded to. "Will you tell me what the hell is going on then?" Present day Courthouse; Washington, D.C. 9:56 AM **************************** "The plans for the new Bay Street Park are ready, sir." Mulder said into the speakerphone. "Deputy Mayor," said his boss, voice quavering in disbelief, "are you sure this design is what you had in mind?" "Sure I'm sure. The kids will love it." Mulder said, making the 34th attempt at getting a pencil to stick on his ten- foot-high wooden ceiling. "Mulder, it looks to me like a spaceship." "Don't you think the neighborhood kids will get a kick out of it?" Now, he had a different approach. He got a paperclip, straightened it, and tosssed it above his head. "The flower arrangements look like those cartoon aliens." "Shit!" Mulder cursed as the paperclip landed point-down dangerously close to his eye. "What was that, Mr. Mulder?" "Oh, sorry sir, paper cut." Mulder inwardly grumbled. "What, you think I'd make them look like those things in ID4? Hey, what if I added bushes that looked like Sweetums from Marvin the Martian?" "Mulder, A.D. Skinner may have tolerated your behavior," the mayor barked, "but we don't go for that science-fiction comic strip shit around here. I want a revision of those Bay Street Park plans PRONTO!" "Yes sir." Mulder said, hanging up. "And while I've got my lips up your *ss, I'll just watch as I my mind goes numb from boredom." He mumbled. Being forced away from his passion, tucked away like an old toy nobody wanted anymore- -that was scarier than any freak of nature he ever faced on the x-files. Getting an idea, he picked up the phone. "Bunny," he said, revelling in the one perk...namely Bunny O'Dell this coushy job had to offer. "Yeeeeessss, Foxy." She huffed into the receiver. "Can you bring me some tacks?" "Anything you say." She said, giggling flirtatiously. What Mulder wouldn't have given for Scully to see that! Now, maybe he could get those tacks up there on the ceiling if he aimed juuuuuuust right... Just four floors below Mulder's rather sizable office window, completely undetected, two men waited for just the right opportunity. "Yo, Danny, is that it?" "Yep, Caster, that's gotta be it...that's the lisence tag the old man gave us and the 'I Believe' sticker and everything. There's something I can't figure, though." "What's that?" "Why he wants it." "Maybe the guy ticked him off." He offered and began evaluating the kind of lock, getting the toolbox out. "Hey, take the look-out, will ya?" "Sure thing, Cas." "You know what else I can't figure?" "Those rubix cube things?" Caster rambled, "Yeah, those are tough...I can't figure those crossword puzzles in the Sunday paper, neither." "Would you just get the damn lock off! I ain't talking about that...I can't figure why he wants it braught back." "He wants it back?!" Caster echoed, popping the lock off finally, and opening the door. He crawled through, and Danny got the toolbox and got in on the other side. "Maybe he just wants to take it for a test drive." "Whatevah. It's $500 for bothuvus. I figure it's worth it." Danny said, and hotwired the engine, making off with the vehicle, completely unnoticed. Mulder, totally unaware of what was going on down on the street below, wished he had a good trashcan to kick as he made attempt number 54 with the tacks. "Maybe I'll get lucky with a green one." Lawfirm of Carter, Spangle, and Adams ************************************* Yes, for Counselor Benjamin Starkweather, the previous night not withstanding, everything was definitely looking up. Even that would be ammended with a peace offering. He had that gift in mind for their anniversary, but something else for that occasion could be arranged. He was not going to spend another night in a hotel room. All the T's had been crossed, and the I's had been dotted. All there was to do now was sit back and wait. He couldn't wait to see the twelve expressions of complete and total disbelief on the jurors faces as he asked the new Deputy Mayor what happened on his last case with the FBI. "Mulder, I hope you're enjoying that pretty office window view now, because by the time I get through with you, you will fall flat on your face rambling on like an idiot about alien DNA crap. There's no one to cover your *ss this time, pal." He said to himself, flipping a pencil in the air. It wasn't that he hated the Deputy Mayor. He had nothing personal against the man...he just resented him for the crusade that drove his wife to that redneck ex-cop partner of hers. Special Agent John Doggett was another man he could not wait to see squirm. He resented Fox Mulder. He hated John Doggett. Meanwhile, parked on the corner going in the opposite direction on the street below, Scully and Sam waited in Doggett's pick-up truck. "Wanna start a pool to see how long it takes for him to move?" Scully joked, taking a sip of Diet Coke. "I got dibs on 3:15." "What do you think he's up to?" Sam asked, biting into his overdone, overpriced hot dog with everything. "He's probably trying to see if he can get a tack stuck on a ten-foot high ceiling." Scully said with a laugh. Sam couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Not Mulder, Ben." "Oh." Scully said awkwardly. "Well...I think he's probably been buttering Kersh's bread. I think he believes he's on the right side, and so my guess is he's scrounging up good solid evidence against you to show a jury who watches too much 'Law and Order.' "'Law and Order'?" Sam questioned. It had been years since he got to watch television. "Never mind. I forgot you only watch ESPN." "Sorry we never got the message to you about the boys staking out the payphone." Sam said after a few minutes of silence. "Sorry for who?" Scully demanded, "Me or the boys?" "I'm--not sure." Sam faltered. "Watch the side-view." Scully said flatly Back at Kersh's Starkweather flipped through Kersh's Day Planner, searching for anything out of the ordinary. "Meetings, meetings, meetings, golf. Meetings, meetings, meetings, golf. Meetings, meetings, meeting... whoa... what's this... Northwestern Flight 82A, Phoenix Arizona..." She repeated the city's name, rolling the word around in her mouth as if tasting wine. "Phoenix. Phoenix... who the hell is in..." She froze, remembering words from a heated fight not that long ago.... ************************************************ Starkweather's apartment A few weeks ago.... "Your ego gets fed by being one step ahead of the enemy. I mean, every after you got fired, FIRED, canned 86'ed from the Bureau for taking the fall for that oil rig explosion, you STILL found a way to get reinstated. But you weren't expecting your body to fail you, did you? How many times were you out sick before Kersh ordered the fitness test? You were screwed and this time there was nothing you could do about it. But ever after Kersh found a way to get rid of you for good, you still found a way to weasel back on to the X- Files, but Skinner could only pull enough strings to make you a consultant. But you know what they say, those who can't do, consult. Not the same as being out in the field. Ego in shambles, when my father approached you, you whored yourself out worse than a lot lizard in Arkansas. You hate yourself because you said 'yes' to him because you have always prided yourself being your own man, but now you're just one of his many puppets he has all over the United States. And you sit in your pretty office, bored silly because handling a garbage strike isn't exactly in the same league as black oil and fallen angels. But instead of getting off your ass and fighting like you used to fight, you sit and play the political game, waiting for my father to come through because he's the last angel in the government game that you've got left. He's the only one who can get you back into the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Mulder's eyes crinkled in amusement. "What makes you so sure?" "Because the Admiral is the one holding Kersh's leash," Starkweather said smugly. "When my father feels like repaying you, he'll pull Kersh's chain and you'll have your little dungeon office back. But he's probably going to wait until Skinner's retired and Doggett takes his place as AD. You have two very long years at City Hall to look forward to. Two long years of sweating it out, wondering what else my father may request of you. I'm know my dad well enough that he wants more than just to watch my ass." "I assure you," Mulder said in his maddeningly expressionless manner. "Your father came to us in all sincerity, concerned about only with your safety. I am well aware of his power, but he has no other agenda. That is the truth." "Bullshit!" Starkweather snapped. "He wants something else and you sold out! Did your balls get left in the casket along with your brain? I've seen him do this before!" (from Starkweather:Introitus) ***************************************************** "My father is in Phoenix..." Sedona to be more accurate, but Phoenix was the only city with an airport close by. Starkweather closed the Day Planner and slid it back to it's exact position on Kersh's desk. "My father pulls Kersh's leash," she muttered. "Not the other way around..." Suddenly, her cell phone vibrated. She looked down at the message screen and saw Skinner's cell phone number. She didn't even answer it. It was their signal that the meeting was over and Kersh and his receptionist were on their way back. Starkweather scurried out of Kersh's office, about to lock the door behind her. Then, she heard Kersh's hated baritone instructing his secretary outside of the secretary's office. Starkweather, with self-preservation being her goal, went back into Kersh's office, locking the door behind her. She looked down at the expensive leather sofa against the wall and threw herself onto the ground next to it. She had just wedged herself all the way underneath when she heard Kersh unlock the door and walk in. <> she thought, sweating. Starkweather feverently hoped no one would come in and sit on the couch she was hiding under, she was afraid she would be squished. She could hear Kersh shuffling papers at his desk, then the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard. She tried to control her breathing as she felt all of her muscles tensing up. She was definitely in a state of "Flight or Fight" mode, which was not good, especially since she couldn't go anywhere yet. <> she silently beseeched him. <> The phone rang. Starkweather lifted her head up in surprise, thumping her head solidly on the bottom of the couch. "Mmmff!!" she bit down hard on her little whimper of pain as tears welled up. Kersh, however, was totally engrossed in his phone conversation. "Deputy Director Kersh.... ahhh... hello!" he said warmly, as though talking to an old friend. "I was just ready to call you... yes, I have my plane tickets ready... oh, really? Oh... they're refundable, it's no problem... it would be a pleasure to have you come to town... where will you be staying... ahhh... yes, I see... mixing a little business with pleasure then???" <> Starkweather thought. "Oh she couldn't be doing better. The Minneapolis Field Office did themselves a great disservice by letting her get away from them. She is one of the finer agents I've had the pleasure of working with. Very dedicated. Very though..... yes I believe she's almost completely recovered from her injuries...oh... what did she tell you..." A hearty laugh, then, "Well, Jeremy, she's YOUR daughter, of course she would downplay her attack... Yes her injuries were quite more substantial than she told you.... But don't worry, all of the superficial wounds on her face have healed completely, the only sign of her attack is her wrist in her cast. We had to FORCE her to take some downtime... like I said, she is far and away one of the most dedicated agents I've had working for me in a very long time..." Another laugh while Starkweather thought <> "When can I expect you in town? Do you need someone to pick you up at the airport? Oh, I see... then I can offer you and the Senator dinner when you get into town... wonderful... I'll make reservations for three then... see you when you come in... Good bye Jeremy." He hung up the phone, fussed a bit longer at his desk, then picked the phone up again. "It's me... the Admiral is coming to town... I'm going to wine and dine him and his wife when he gets in... yes, I'll keep you updated." He hung up and made one more call to his receptionist. "I'll be out for the rest of the afternoon. I have some filing for you to do on my desk. Thank you." He hung up, gathered his papers and left his office, locking the door. Ten minutes after he left, Starkweather with a grunt, wedged herself from out underneath his couch, completely furious. Her father was coming into town with business with **KERSH** of all people. <> she fumed as she left his office, relocking his door. Kersh's secretary looked up at her in complete surprise. "Agent Starkweather, whatever do you think you're doing???" Starkweather, smiling dangerously, sat up on the secretary's desk, opening her black blazer just enough so she could see her gun. "If you don't say anything about me being in Kersh's office, I won't do anything about those rather salacious, inappropriate comments you and Kimberly were making about the four of us in the X-Files office." She kissed the receptionist on each cheek, and, probably because of her conversation with Mulder earlier at Scully's apartment and because she was a HUGE movie buff, said "I know it was you Fredo," and pranced out of Kersh's office. Kersh's secretary was so frightened, she typed up her letter of resignation that day and nearly fled from the J Edgar Hoover Building. D.C. County Courthouse Outside the Mayor's office 11:38 AM **************************** Whether he was being bought-and-traded out of the FBI or not, Mulder sincerely liked his new boss. They had hit it off at the beginning, and, even though it was a quieter position than what he was used to, Mulder was beginning to get accustomed to settling down. The Mayor was not Skinner, and it wasn't nearly as fun getting up his craw as it had been getting up Skinner's; but Mayor Thomas Swanson was a good man, despite the legendary reputations that usually haunted politicians. For once in his life, Fox Mulder was a regular guy. "Spooky" Mulder was a part of his past. Oh sure, he'd go straight back to hunting down the Truth if were he ever given the opportunity faster than you could say 'alien,' but yuppydom was a nice, comfortable change of pace, albeit sometimes too comfortable for his liking. He scooped the real plans for the Bay Street Park up and began to deliver them to the Mayor's office. He was about to go in when a heated conversation stopped him just outside the door. "Mayor," a man was protesting, "he is in our way. He can't continue to hold this position without interfering with our agenda. He says it's an issue of priorities and securities." "Priorities and securities or not," the Mayor said "He's a city-appointed employee, and I cannot legally remove him from his office." "You didn't get elected to this office exactly legally." Said the voice flatly. "The Admiral can pull some strings to make some sort of a scandal come to the public eye." "That's blackmail!" the Mayor protested. "It's not blackmail, it's helping you keeping your priorities straight. You are aware of the circumstances under..." the man started, but the Mayor interrupted. "Yes," The Mayor began, careful to keep his voice even and angry. "I am aware of how he left, but despite those allegations, I think he's an assett to this city, and I'm willing to give him a another chance. Look, I understand your situation, but I've got the people of D.C. to answer to--not a bunch of fat cats in Arizona." "Soon, when all these allegations are brought to light, you won't think of him so highly. The people of D.C. will think twice about re-electing a mayor who appoints someone rattling off about science-fiction crap in a court of law to a powerful city position." "Be as it may," The Mayor replied heatedly, "I will wait until he prooves you wrong." Mulder took his cue here to duck out of view into an empty conference room. "I'll see myself out." Said The Man, Mulder couldn't get an opportunity to see his face. "Deputy" the Mayor said, greeting Mulder warmly, "finally came around, huh? Yes...this will do just fine. Good work. Don't forget the town counsel meeting tomorrow at four." "Thankyou, sir" Mulder said simply and took his leave. 12:37 PM "Scully," Sam sighed heavily, "I don't think he's going to move today until he has to go home." "We don't know that for sure, Doggett." Scully replied. "He may lead us straight to the solution and be none the wiser." "Doggett, can I ask you something?" "What, Scully?" "Why are you doing this?" "I figure this is the only way to get any lead." Scully shot him an imploring look. "It's right." Sam said simply. Then ducked, because at just that moment, Scully did. "BEN!" She screamed, crouching from view of the windshield. "Heading for the White Dodge Dynasty! Don't duck, drive!" Scully hissed, forgetting that there was no possible way Ben could hear her from the confines of a truck. Sam cranked the engine up as fast as his reflexes would allow, and made sure to wait just long enough so that Ben wouldn't suspect he was being followed. Ben headed down East on Wilson. Sam was following him close enough to keep up, but far enough away not to be noticed. Ben turned a left on Kennedy. Sam got caught by a light, and lost him for a few beats until he saw the Dodge's blinker just a few steps ahead, about to turn down Reagan." "Reagan!" Scully puzzled. "There's nothing on Reagan but a bunch of flea markets, grocery stores, a photocopy place, and antique shops!" "Photocopies." Sam realized. "I bet he found something for show-and-tell for those jurors." "You're right. There he is, pulling into it." Sam parked the car a couple of blocks down the way, and motioned for Scully to go follow while he parked. Scully crouched down, and waited in the bushes. "A squirrel just nibbled the heel of my favorite pumps." Scully groaned. "Sorry" Sam said sheepishly. "I don't know how much longer I can play Crouching Oaf, Hidden Idiot." Scully said finally after waiting in the bushes for an hour, kicking off her pumps. "I'm gonna see if I can get any closer." "Thank you Mr. Martin." Ben was saying coming out of the store. "I owe you big time for this one. You just made my night's sleep a lot nicer." Sam thought. "You in the doghouse with that spitfire Missus of yours?" Mr. Martin asked, handing a small bag to him. "Yeah," Ben said with an idiot-grin on his face, taking out the contents of the bag for inspection. "I know when I'm licked." "Smart man, Mr. Starkweather, smart man." Mr. Martin said, turning to go in. "That's not what the evidence suggests." Scully grumbled on the other side of the building. She craned her neck as much as she dared, and could barely make out what the picture was. "Agent Starkweather's got a night of heavy breathing ahead of her." Scully said flatly. "What makes you say that?" Sam asked, pulling away. "That was her picture he had photocopied. It's probably a peace offering." "You still think he's up to something?" "Oh, he's up to something alright." "Can you call Agent Reyes and get her to sit with Will for the rest of the afternoon." "I think that can be arranged." Scully answered with a smile. 3:24 PM In Doggett's pick-up, Outside the Law Offices of Carter, Adams and Spangle "Not that I'm sure Mulder didn't deserve it, but what exactly does Starkweather have against him?" Sam asked, sipping his sixth bottle of coke. "Well, from what I can gather from both Starkweather and Mulder, I think Mulder was following up on some research of abductees, and was trying to get information from her mother. Unfortunately, the timing turned out to be his disadvantage, because Starkweather's adoptive mother never regained her lucidity after she lost it during his questioning." "So Starkweather is taking her anger over her mother's death out on Mulder?" "Probably. In the x-files, issues come with the office benefits." "Apparently. Speaking of issues...what's the deal with you and Mulder?" Not that Sam was usually one to get the skinny on office gossip, but he couldn't help but wonder what happened with the 'we're just friends' stance both usually took. "Look out your window, Doggett." Scully said flatly, and gave Sam a wan smile. "You ever noticed the similarities between Mulder and Starkweather?" "Similarities?" Sam asked, getting his sixth coke out of the cooler. "Yeah...something around the eyes, same annoying sarcasm, same stubbornness." "But Starkweather's more skeptic than Mulder is about things." "True. But still..." Scully broke off, because at that moment, Ben came out of his office again. "Doggett--" "I'm already on it. Wonder where he's headed so late in the afternoon?" "We're about to find out." Sam tore out of the parking lot across the street from the office, careful not to go fast enough to make the tires screech. He followed the car at a safe distance as it turned on Eisenhower, on Kennedy, and then Lincoln. At the light, Sam got an idea. "Scully, take the wheel, I'm gonna go after him on foot. I'll give ya the signal if something happens." "Doggett! I can't let you go by--" "You can argue with me till your face turns blue, and the car won't have a driver by the next light." Sam said, unbuckling his safety belt. "Doggett, your cell phone won't necessarily pick up the signal inside. Two cans and a string won't exactly work from here." "Just catch up with me later!" "Doggett!" Scully protested, but before she could say anything, Sam was out of the car, sprinting down the street. Mulder, after an early long, BORING business lunch with a group of building contractors who wanted to build ANOTHER shopping mall in DC, gratefully slid into his comfortable chair in his office. He hated to admit it, but he REALLY loved his new office. As much as he desired and longed for the X-Files... it was going to be REALLY hard to go back into the basement. <> he moped as he took out his cell phone and called the Lone Gunmen. "Frohike." "Melvin, you sexy bitch." "Mulder," Frohike fumed. "You could have warned us about the Twisted Sisters coming down on us!!!" "What?" Mulder asked. After Frohike gave Mulder the lowdown on their run-in with Agents Scully, Reyes and Starkweather, Mulder just chuckled and said angelically: "Oops." "'Oops,'" Frohike ranted, a rarity from the man of little words. "We just about got creamed by the Bitches of Eastwick and all he says is 'Oops'." "Hey! At least we found out Byers is a virgin!" Langly piped up. "Langly, please, shut up!" Byers was in a permanent state of blush ever since he made his faux paux. "Byers is a virgin?" Mulder had overheard Langly's remark. "Hey, tell him I've got some videos he can borrow." "Hey, Byers, Mulder said you can borrow his pornos for those long lonely nights." "I hate you guys," Byers whined. "Anyways, what's up, Deputy Mayor?" Frohike got back to business. "I need you guys to get into your black formal wear later on. There's going to be a little party at the Mayor's office when he leaves for the day." "Now you're talking," Frohike grunted. "What's the occasion?" "Just that I discovered that I still have the gift of pissing off friends and influencing people into doing harm unto me and the people I either adore or at least tolerate on a day to day basis. Someone was threatening the Mayor into canning me and I want to know why and if it's connected in any way, shape or form with this whole oil rig clusterfuck." "Really?" Frohike was all ears and little talk now. "What time?" "The Mayor usually doesn't leave until seven o'clock at night," the Mayor was truly dedicated to his job and his city, "but tonight his little girl is having a birthday party so he's leaving early around three. Most people are out of here no later than four-thirty." "Damn City employees," Frohike complained. "As far as security, surprisingly it's pretty lax. Some rent-a-cops wander around but they pretty much stay holed up in the security office watching sports on ESPN. There's a cleaning crew that comes in late at night, but that's usually after eight o'clock when everyone is definitely gone." "Cake walk then," Frohike then. "Cool, I love slacker jobs," Langly grinned as he munched on Funyons. "There might be nothing there, but tell me EVERYTHING you find, no matter how small or insignificant you may think it is. I'll be at Scully's the rest of the night." "You'll be at Scully's the rest of the night," Frohike repeated for the other two's benefit. "Hey, Byers! Cheer up!" Langley punched him joshingly on his shoulder, "if Mulder can get some, that means there's hope for you yet!" "I heard that," Mulder said. "I didn't really appreciate it." "Well, hell Mulder," Frohike reasoned. "Before you and Scully finally hooked up, how long had it been for you? Ten years?" "GOOD BYE," Mulder snapped and hung up the phone, groaning. < he wondered just as his cell rang again. Expecting it to be Frohike again, he snarled "WHAT???" "Mulder, it's Skinner." "Oh... sorry sir." Chastised, he mumbled. "Don't call me sir. Anyway, have you heard from anyone yet? Doggett, Scully, Starkweather???" "No si- ummm, Skinner, I haven't. Why?" "That's just it, I haven't heard a peep all day and I'm getting concerned." Skinner growled, unawares that at that time, Starkweather was still hidden underneath Kersh's couch and Sam-in-Doggett and Scully were staking Ben out on Reagan Street. "Should I call them?" Now Mulder was worried, typical Mulder, getting his boxers in a knot whenever it concerned Scully. A pause. "Not yet, but if you don't hear from them by at least close of business today, I want to know." Skinner hung up without saying goodbye. Mulder, now really nervous, a trait he did not like in himself, got up and started pacing. Just then his cell rang. He dove for it. "Scully?" "No, Deputy Mayor, it's me." "Jerilyn?? What happened? Skinner's got his tightie-whities in a bunch about you." "Huh." Starkweather deadpanned. "I always pictured him as a boxers man, myself. I tried calling him just now, but his line was busy." "What happened? Did you find anything in Kersh's office?" "OH MAN!!" Starkweather exploded, sitting safely at her tiny desk in the X-Files office. "You will NOT believe what I just went through!" Meanwhile back to the future QL HQ Al told Doggett everything, about Sam's maiden leap, about all the lives he's touched and changed, about his first brush with the X-Files when he leaped into Agent Dana Scully (Doggett snorted in disbelief at that one) and about Sam's current mission. Doggett grew very quiet when Al started adding up the death toll. He closed his eyes when Al told him about Jerilyn's impending murder. "Well?" Al asked. "Well?" Doggett repeated. "It's a great story for frightening little kids at bedtime, but what proof do you have to offer me? I mean, as far as I can tell, this could all be an elaborate, sick joke. I mean, so far, you've offered me no proof that it's actually 2011?" "I thought you'd say that," Al said. "So I brought you this." He handed Doggett a police file. Doggett flipped it open, then bolted out of his seat in horror. The police photographs fluttered down and Al tried not to look at the graphic picture of Starkweather's murder. But, just like rubbernecks on the freeway, looking back at a gruesome accident, he couldn't help it. In stark black and white, Starkweather, in a pool of her own blood was laying on the floor of a Kum-n-Go, a bullet wound in her forehead, her eyes wide and staring. Al stooped down, gathered up the files contents and put them on the table. "Before you say that picture was faked, you know Starkweather, as morbid as her humor is, would NOT fake something like that to play a joke on you." Al told an ashen-faced Doggett. "She knows that would kill you and she wouldn't hurt her friends like that. Her death certificate is in there too, along with an autopsy report and newspaper clippings." Doggett gingerly took the picture again and tried to look at it objectively, but couldn't. "This is suppose to happen....?" "Three days after Mulder gets killed," and Al held out another folder for Doggett to look at. The crime scene photographs for Mulder's murder were far and away more disturbing that Starkweather's, for it showed the bars of the prison cell where Mulder was being held for Ben's murder completely torn away, as if they were tissue paper. Blood was spattered all over the walls. Mulder's body looked to be literally broken in half. His eyes, too much like Starkweather's, were also wide open and staring into the oblivion. "Oh, God," Doggett said, flipping through the pictures. "This is for real, then?" he felt his gut churning. "This ain't a joke?" "I wish it was and time is running short and we've got a situation with our computer system that making it run shorter-" But Doggett wasn't listening, he was looking at a picture of the assumed suspect of Mulder's death. "Oh my God... I know that man..." "What?" Al come over to Doggett's side to look at the still from the prison video monitor system. With a shaking finger, Doggett tapped the picture. "That's Billy Miles." "Who?" Meanwhile, in the Present Shock me," Mulder said dryly, going back to trying to get a tack on the ceiling, "Shock me with your deviant behavior." "Mulder--" she warned. "Get back to reality for two seconds, please. Heads up, because this is big news." "Whatchya got?" "Well, dad's blowing into town." "Thanks for letting me know...tell him I said hi." "Guess who is wining and dining him when he gets here?" "You and Ben?" "No." "Me and Scully?" "Hell no." "As fun as it is playing guessing games with you, just tell me, please...I don't have time for guess who's coming to dinner right now." "Really, so that's why you asked for a dartboard to put in your office for your birthday?" "So who's having daddy to dinner?" "Kersh." "Any idea why the Deputy Director of the FBI is having a meeting with an Admiral?" "I have absolutely no clue." "I wonder if it has anything to do with someone wanting me 86'ed and the trial coming up." "Listen, Twilight Zone Poster Boy, quit being so paranoid. Dad got you that job, remember?" "You won't let me forget." "He's not about to get you kicked outta that office faster than he put you in it. I don't give a flying f*ck about your ass, but I'll be d*mned if I let Doggett down. I'm gonna do some digging around Dad's office to see if I can find any solid proof at his place." "Did you find anything in Kersh's office?" "A copy of Roots, Hannibal, and Catching a Spider..." "So he's taking some lessons from Hannibal Lecter, huh? Wonder what he's going to Phoenix for. What was Kersh doodling? Playing hangman by himself?" "Some numbers...they looked like stockmarket jargon." Starkweather said, and told him what the numbers were. She had no clue what they meant. "That's a helluva hangman score." "No kidding. I overheard something you might wanna make something of or not..." "What's that? You making the watercooler gossip again?" "Kinda...someone in Arizona tried to get me fired." "Jiminy Christmas! Arizona? Oh, geez...Mulder...I think I'm gonna be sick." "Why's that?" "I owe you an apology..." "Jiminy Christmas?" Mulder scoffed, "What the h*ll is that?" "Fuck off." "That's better." "Mulder," Starkweather threatened, "if you tell ANYONE we had this conversation, I will PERSONALLY make sure you are permanently pissing through a tube faster than you can say extraterrestrial." "Duely noted..." Mulder gulped. "So, tell me...how did you get a hold of this information?" "Well, Skinner called Kersh out of his office, and I snuck in." "How did you sneak out? By slithering?" "Pretty much." Starkweather admitted. "I hid under the couch and waited till the two-faced rat-b*stard left." "I think two-faced rat-b*stard is the chartered name for the bad-guy club down there. How did you get past the secretary?" "We made an arrangement. She agreed to be silent. I agreed to let her live." "Sounds like you're learning the ropes pretty fast." Mulder chuckled. "Well, Hurricane, you better let Skinner know Kersh didn't have you for dinner." "Oh, blow me." "That's Ben job, isn't it?" "That's a mature response coming from the Deputy Mayor of Washington. It's a relief to know this city's in good hands." Starkweather deadpanned. "Oh, *blow me* is *REAL* mature." "As much as I would love to continue the captivating debate we're having, this little hurricane's gotta blow outta here. I gotta do a little digging." "Look, off the record, Starkweather, with your foster mother...I was only looking for some answers. I almost lost Scully to the same thing she died from, and my sister disappeared when I was twelve. I was trying to find her, and I stepped on lots of toes along the way...and, well..." "I'll take that as an apology." Starkweather interrupted. "I wasn't kidding when I said I had some digging to do. I won't let anything happen to either Scully or Doggett, and if that means keeping you around, then so be it. This whole oil-rig deal is my fight just as much as it is yours, whether we like it or not. Besides, after this deal, I think I'm going to ask to be transferred into Quantico." "Starkweather, when we first met, you said I was spineless for not being my own person. All I've got to say about you going to Quantico is, if the lab coat fits, wear it." "Excuse me? I *EARNED* my place here. Being stuffed down into your little crusade was NOT my choice *pal*. I was assigned here! What the fucking right do you think you have going around shoving crap in my face like--" "Before you go off on me, I didn't say you didn't earn your place. I don't think we would've been able to have as many leads on this case right now as we've got without you on the team. All I'm saying, is if you go to Quantico, you are leaving behind every opportunity you've ever had to be honest with yourself and find the truth. I may be spineless, but at least I'm not living a pretty lie." "My pretty lie is all I have. You're spineless not because you're Dad's puppet, but because you know the truth and do nothing about it." "What is that lie, Starkweather? A marriage going down the drain? An adoptive father pulling strings under your nose and pulling the wool over the world's eyes? You're a damn good investigator, Starkweather. All I'm trying to say is, maybe the lie isn't as good as the truth could be. I am not in a position to do anything about the truth that's out there right now, but you...are." "Mulder, this isn't my crusade. If it *is* my crusade," Starkweather softened, hardly able to believe she was pouring her heart out to someone she barely tolerated, "then I have to fight against my father, and I don't think I'm ready to do that." "I know, Starkweather. Just think at least about staying on with the x-files, ok? Keep me posted on what you find out about the case, too." "That's my job, Mulder. Getting my *ss kicked by E.T.'s, sneaking around two-faced rat-b*st*rd lairs, and keeping you posted." She said, and hung up. "What bug got up *her* ass and died?" Mulder grumbled, and barely had time to make one more attempt at getting a tack stuck to the ceiling before the phone rang again. "Mulder." "It's me." "What's going on Scully? Everything ok?" "I'm not sure. I'm on Lincoln street and Doggett just played half a game of Chinese fire drill." "What?" "He got out of the car, Mulder, and is now following Ben on foot." "What?! Why? Did he give you a reason." "None whatsoever. Feels like the good old days when *you* used to do the same thing." "Guess who's coming to town?" "Elvis. Mulder, I really don't have time for this." "Go on, guess." "Mulder, now is *not* the time to go back and forth. I'm pulling into this warehouse." "Kersh is taking Admiral Bailey to dinner right before our trial." "And this is important to us, how?" "Admiral Bailey has a lot of influence over Kersh...he has a lot of influence over a lot of people in very high positions." "What *OF* it, Mulder?" "I overheard some watercooler gossip about someone in Arizona needing me 86'ed again. Admiral Bailey is in Arizona." "Mulder, I think you're jumping conclusions again." "I think Admiral Bailey has Kersh wrapped around his finger." "Starkweather?" Scully hissed, scooting down out of sight under some hedges. "You think she's part of the deal?" "I really don't think she's aware of exactly how powerful her father is, and what's more, I think she earned her place at the FBI. At any rate, be careful. Keep me posted about what you find out." As much as Sam loved catching up with Scully, he needed to touch base with Al. Getting out of that truck was the only way he could think of to get away from Scully without being sent to a psych ward for talking to thin air. "Al! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" Sam hollared as loudly as his lungs could spare as he sprinted down Lincoln in the general direction Ben's car was headed. It wasn't long before the thin blue light of the door appeared and with the click and sweep of the chamber door. "The warehouse is a coupla blocks, Sam!" Al shouted after him, "I'll meetchya there!" "Al," Sam huffed, and doubled over from exhaustion. "I--uh- -Ben--" "Calm down, Sam. I got some good news and some bad news." "Good news?" "Doggett finally decided to trust us, and we finally have the story on Mulder's murder." "Bad news?" "You're not gonna like this." "It can't be worse than anything else that's happened today. Out with it..." "Ziggy's on the fritz still. We can't expell the virus outta the system, so there's still a good chance that we'll hafta shut down in a few hours." "What do you know...today can get worse." Sam implored no one in particular. "That's not all." "That's not all?!" Sam echoed. "What is this? Am I supposed to jump into a whale, build an ark? Tell me!" "The killer apparently is a super-human alien." "And I'm supposed to believe that?" Sam demanded. "You're supposed to stop Ben from getting killed. Which, right now, don't look too easy considering he's about to go into that warehouse." "Jump ahead of me, and see what he's up to, I'm gonna wait on Scully." Without a word, the chamber door was open and Al was gone. "Doggett," Scully said, running up from a behind a bush a few seconds later, "For nine years now, I have been putting up with this kinda crap from Mulder, and now, I'm putting up with this from you. Do you have ANY idea of what my life is like?" "A better idea than you think, Scully." Sam said, going inside. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Doggett!?" Scully hissed, running after him. They stopped short and crouched behind a couple of boxes. "What's he doing here?" Sam hissed, keeping his gaze peeled between Ben and the door. "Isn't that what we're hear to find out?" Scully answered, getting her gun out of her ankle holster. "I'll check outside and see if anyone's on their way, Sam." Al suggested, and popped out. A few minutes later, almost instantly, the warehouse door opened like a garage door, and a black sedan drove through. With Ben out of sight, four men got out, one of whom was Kersh, another of whom was the Mayor, and another of whom was the Admiral. "You won't listen to us then?" Kersh was saying. "He's the laughing-stock of D.C. A c*cktail party joke...the stuff late-night talk shows and political cartoons are made of." "I don't think our agenda can be met with him here." A man was saying, going to a box. "I think you're wrong." The Mayor was saying, "A city position such as his has no real power; he knows nothing of our plans, and there is no reason why he has to be taken through the ringer because of it! In all good consciousness, I can't follow through with this." "He is a threat to our existence, and a threat to my daughter." Admiral Bailey was saying. "How is who a threat to the little hurricane?!" Al demanded. It was very theraputic being a hologram sometimes, maddening at others. "If you won't get him out of his office, we will eliminate him another way." "Admiral, I smell his brand of cigarettes." Kersh said. "You--think he's here?" "I--uh--wonder...he woudlnt' be caught dead in that white dodge that was parked outside, that's for sure." The Admiral said with a chuckle. "My son-in-law has a car like that...had it in grad school." "If Ben is around here, then he knows our plans." "We haven't been specific enough, he hasn't heard anything he can back up." The mayor began to protest. "Exactly whose side are you on, Mr. Mayor?" Kersh demanded. "The right one." "For your sake, I hope so." Admiral Bailey replied. "It would be awful if the Mayor had a heart attack in the middle of his term at his granddaughter's birthday party." "Speaking of which, hadn't you better be going?" Kersh said, grinning like a snake. Three of the men then got in the car. The man that they couldn't recognize went over to one of the boxes, and got out a vile of grass-green liquid, opened the driver's door, and the warehouse door opened again, and drove off. Lazily, Morris Nigcht, the security guard looked up from the "Toughman Contest" he was watching on FX to check the survelliance monitor that recorded the ins and outs of the front doors to City Hall. All he saw were three goofy looking guys from the cleaning crew that came every night to pick up the messes the city employees so thoughtfully left for them every night. "Weirdos," he mumbled as he reached for his coffee and doughnuts and turned his attention back to his television show. Meanwhile, the Lone Gunmen, dressed in the garb of a cleaning crew, armed with caddies of cleaning supplies that they had no idea how to use and a giant trash barrel on wheels, blithely walked right in and into the elevator. "Damn, that was easy," Langly crooned when the elevator door shut and they were safely on their way up to the Mayor's office. "Too easy," Frohike grumbled. "What's got your coaxial cable in a knot?" Langly's nose flared in irritation. "Got a bad feelin'," was all that could be coaxed from Frohike. "Frohike," Byers nagged, "a few hours ago, you said that this was going to be a cake walk." "That was a few hours ago." Byers and Langly looked at each other and shrugged. The elevator doors whooshed opened and the intrepid boys let themselves out. "Alright, where did Mulder say the Mayor's haunt was?" Langly asked. Byers pulled a map out of his cleaning uniform. "He said it was two suites down from his office, on the left... so I think it's this way." Ten minutes later, the boys turned around and walked the other way towards the Deputy Mayor's and Mayor's office. "Damn narc," Frohike grumbled. "Mulder must have meant HIS left," Byers tried to justify himself. "Hey, speaking of Mulder," Langly pointed to a heavy oak door with the gold plaque reading "The Honorable Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder" hanging on it. "HONORABLE?? Oh gag me." Langly made retching noises. "I wonder if it's as swank as he tells us it is..." A glimmer of mischief glistened in the eyes behind the thick black glasses. "Langly, no, we don't have tim-" Byers tried to protest, but too late, Langly had already jimmied the lock. All three stood in the doorway, gawping. "Whoa daddy," was all that Langly could get out. Like three alley cats sneaking into an upper class townhouse, the boys tiptoed in, instantly sinking into the luxuriously soft cream carpet. "Damn!" Langly threw himself on the fawn colored leather sofa. "I think his new office is nicer than his APARTMENT!" He looked up. "What's up with all the tacks in the ceiling?" Byers meanwhile, had made a beeline for Mulder's exspansive desk. "Guys, this is solid cherry!" he exclaimed. "I think it's an antique!" "Who cares?" Frohike was getting nervous. "Yeah, you nerd," Langly rebuffed him. "No one gives a crap. Speaking of crap, I wonder if he's got his own crapper in this high-fa-lootin' joint?" "No, that priviledge is reserved for those with real power." Mulder's trademark monotone made all the boys jump up in alarm. "Mulder, what the hell?" Langly said. "Thought you said that you're goin' to Scully's?" "I will be, as soon as my cab gets here," Mulder examined the doorknob. "I've got to invest in better locks." "A cab? Why? Car in the shop?" Frohike asked. "Well, it's probably in a shop of some sorts, being dismantled and sold for hot parts all over the Continental US. My car was stolen this afternoon." "Man, that sucks," Langly said, now sniffing around the candy jar sitting on the end-table next to the sofa. "Thank you, Captain Obvious.. hey, get out of there!" Langly, pouting, put the lid back on the jar. "There's nothin' but freakin' sunflower seeds in there." "Don't you guys have some breaking and entering to do?" Mulder reminded them of their mission to infiltrate the Mayor's office. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Langly unwillingly got off of the sofa. "Nice place you got here, Mr. Honorable Deputy Mayor, sir." "Thanks. Now," Mulder said, ushering the Lone Gunmen out, "if you're really REALLY good, I'll show you the wet bar they put in here for me." "You've got a BAR in here!" Langly goggled while Frohike and Byers stared in wonder. Mulder slammed the door in their faces. "God damn," Frohike said. "What bug crawled up his ass and died?" Mulder flung himself onto the sofa and threw his arm over his eyes. Truth to be told, he, again, wasn't feeling well. He could feel the army of the migranes mustering at the tail of his spine and begin their march up to his skull. "Goddamn it!!" He cursed aloud. "Not now, not now!!!" He was about to get up and fix himself a very substantial adult beverage from his very own private bar when his cell phone rang. "Mulder." "Mr. Mulder? This is the Yellow Cab Company. We're right outside." "Thank you," Mulder switched his phone off, pulled on his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase and went downstairs to his waiting cab and home to a hopefully waiting good Doctor Scully, who is the cure for all that ailed him... he hoped. Washington D.C.; Lincoln Street Warehouse 4:57 PM ******************************************* Ben crouched waiting behind one of the crates as the men left. He couldn't figure it all out. Was the vile some sort of chemical toxin? Surely it wasn't related to his trial...the Admiral CERTAINLY couldn't be in on what was happening in the oil company. He knew that the Admiral had pulled some strings to get him the new job at the law firm, but beyond that, he didn't think that the Admiral was at all involved with his job--he certainly wasn't going to let his father-in-law interfere with justice. These guys were going to pay for what they did, and he was going to be the one to pull the wool off over their eyes. He knew that whatever the vile was, it was something that he would have to look in on after he blew this case out of the water. But, first things first, before he saved the world, he needed to save his marriage. He took out a well-worn velvet-covered box, and procured an antique locket, held the picture up to it, and with scissors that came with his swiss army knife, cut the picture to fit, and snapped it shut and put the box in the paper bag holding the picture, and left. Sam and Scully crouched behind the rows of boxes close to the door, and silently scooted out of view as Ben left. Scully had parked behind a building across the street, and Al, Scully and Sam gratefully left. "I wonder what that was all about?" Sam mused allowed as he got into the truck. Al popped in between he and Scully, trying his best to look like he was actually sitting, causing Sam to nearly jump out of his skin and make the car swerve. "It sure wasn't a Shriner's club meeting." Al grumbled. "I dunno..." Then Scully's eyes widened as she got a horrible thought. "Oh God! What if they were talking about Mulder?" "They were definately talking about Ben, that's for sure." Al interjected as though Scully could hear him. "I wonder what that vile was. Could you tell?" "How the hell should I know?" Scully snapped. "It looked like green kool-aid to me." Al said at the same time Scully snapped. "I wonder how Ben found out they would be there." "Who knows." Sam said, forgetting that Scully couldn't hear Al's half. "You ok Doggett?" "Who knows." Sam said dryly, and then realizing his fumble, stammered, "Who knows...how Ben found out those guys would be there." "You think Jerilyn tipped him off without her knowing it?" Al wondered. "It was World War Three in their apartment for the past couple of days, Jerilyn wouldn't let him near any of what she was working on, I'm sure of it." "How do you think he got a hold of that information, then?" Scully demanded. "Maybe they were feeding the little worm some bait." Al theorized. "You really think so?" Sam asked, again forgetting about Scully. "I have no idea." Scully answered, and then whipped out her cell phone. "Skinner? It's Scully, hey, listen..."yeah, we're alright. Did you and Starkweather make out ok?...We followed Ben to the warehouse on Lincoln Street, and Kersh, The Admiral, The Mayor of D.C., and somebody we didn't recognize all pulled into the warehouse and got this vile...we have no idea...we don't know the answer to that one, either...we've still got a lot of work to do before we know that...yes sir...I'll keep you posted." Scully hung up and sighed heavily. "Doggett...we've been working on this ever since it exploded ont our laps, and where has it gotten us? Absolutely nowhere...I don't think I'm helping you or Mulder any more than Will is." "Sure you are," Sam tried to encourage. "We just need a little more time to gather proof, is all. I tell you what, I'll take you back to the Bureau, and we can call it a night, and you me and Starkweather can pull our heads together over this tomorrow at work." "Thanks, Doggett...that's the best idea anyone's come up with for the past few days." "You know Scully," Sam began, "You know how I read through all those files..." "Yeah?" Scully nodded. "There's one thing I gotta know." "What's that?" "When you were in Antarctica, how DID you guys get back from that spaceship?" "Just drive." She said flatly. Sam and Scully rode in silence the rest of the way, and Al went back through the chamber door to check on the progress being made on Ziggy. An hour later that afternoon **************************** Ben made his way back to his plush office, no closer to a garaunteed win for his case than he was earlier. There was nothing conclusive in that meeting except that someone wanted someone else fired, or worse. Those people had access to a box in that warehouse with a vile. If there was someway he could get a hold of that vile, then maybe he could win that case. The only easiest way he could get the vile, it seemed, was through his father-in-law. But what was it? What could possibly be in that vile that four undoubtedly powerful men wanted? It certainly coudln't be liquidated green jell-o. Maybe toxin? Some heightened synthetic chlorophyll for crops? Regardless, it was a crime against the government, and it had to be uncovered, regardless of who was involved. This might be a bit tricky considering one of the possible people he would be fighting against pulled strings to get his new position at one of the top lawfirms. The Admiral had opened some doors, and he couldn't just turn him away like that...but by the same token, he couldn't turn down a fight, either. "Mr. Starkweather," his secretary chirpped, poking her head in the door. "This came for you while you were gone. I don't know who brought it. The mailboy brought it up." "Thanks." Ben said absently, taking the envelope as though it were something his parents wouldn't let him touch. He took the envelope, and noticed that it was a plain, grocery-store .99 special variety that was unmarked; only his name and lawfirm address were written on the front. Inside was a typed message written in Times New Roman font, size twelve, all caps IF YOU WANT TO WIN THE CASE, COME TO THE LINCOLN STREET LAWFIRM AT 4:30 AM, ALONE AND ARMED WITH NOTHING BUT YOUR WITS--A FRIEND INSIDE. He crumpled the peice of paper up, and threw it in the wastebasket, started to surf the net on insectisides to see if it would lead to any answers as to what that vile was, and soon, his curiosity got the better of him. Everything was riding on this deposition coming up; but his marriage was riding on tonight. If he screwed up again, it would be world war four. On the other hand, he rationalized, if I win this case, the x-files would be closed, and Agent Jerilyn would be Mrs. Starkweather again. "Well, if world war four explodes in our apartment tonight, I hope she doesn't know how to operate an atom bomb." Ben closed the laptop, and left the office, heading for the flowershop. If he wanted everything to be right again tonight, he would have to eat crow for supper. For a year. Or as long as Jerilyn was willing to put up a fight for their marriage. Whichever came first. He hoped the year. *********************************************************** meanwhile... J. Edgar Hoover Building ************************ Sam and Scully left from the Lincoln Street Warehouse almost as clueless as they had came in. The only thing Sam knew for sure was that he hadn't changed history yet. At least he had the future suspects narrowed down. If he could somehow get him away from them; to get Jerilyn to protect him somehow, he would be home free. Experience told him it wouldn't be that easy. They came into the x-files office to find Jerilyn busily digging in research. "You guys find anything?" "I found out how to unbuckle my seatbelt and change seats during the time it takes for a light to change." She shot a glare at Sam. "If you do ANYTHING like that to me again I'll--" Scully started, but Sam wouldn't let her finish. "I gotta go to the restroom." For once in his life, it wasn't just an excuse. "I don't think he's playing with a full deck today, Starkweather." Scully said, getting her laptop and briefcase gathered. "Well, you'd be a basketcase too," She justified, and gestured to Mulder's desk. "If you hadda spend the night with the Addams Family reject, Barbie boy, JFK Wannabe, and Greasey poney tail quasi-modo. Look, Scully...earlier, I put you between me and the Deputy Mayor, and that wasn't fair of me." "I'll take that as an apology, Starkweather. Hope you and Ben patch things up tonight." "We will...you were right about Mulder. His heart is in the right place, after all. Along with a couple of...other...pertinent muscles." Scully couldn't help but blush like a school girl at that comment. "We found out something you might wanna know, Starkweather." Sam said, making his entrance and shot a permissive look directed at Scully. "Someone close the FBI has a lot of influence on a lot of people." "Any idea who?" She asked. "We're getting close, Starkweather." "What did you find?" Scully pressed, eager to change the subject. "Chicken scratch on a legal pad. It looked like doodling at first, but I looked closer, and it was stock-market numbers. I did some research, and the stock-market is linked directly to that oil rig in the Gulf, and this same company merged with several other oil rigs--including one in Arizona and in Scottland." "We know someone's paying Kersh to keep silent. All we need to do now is figure out who, or which organization, or what." Scully said, making a bee-line for the door. "I've gotta go relieve Agent Reyes of Will. "At least today we got a good start on a lead. It's not solid, but it's a lead." Starkweather looked nervously down at her desk, and then across at the both of them, as if in debate. She sighed heavily in concluding solo arguements. "I'm going to do some investigating when dad comes to visit. It's the only way we can find any answers to this thing." "I appreciate your help, Starkweather, but the answers may not be what you want to hear." Scully warned. "Neither are the Backstreet Boys." Starkweather replied with a scared smile. "But if that's what it takes to get you two outta this, then I'll do it. See you guys tomorrow." She said heading out the door. Later that night... Ben and Jerilyn's apartment Ben tenitively opened the door to his apartment. He heard Kid Rock blaring out of the stereo: "Yeah, I'm a COW - Boy bay--bee..." He closed his eyes. Hard rock, bad sign. He sighed and went towards the bedroom. His wife hadn't noticed him. The bedroom was in disarray, piles of clothes separated by color and fabric all over. Because they didn't have an ironing board, Jerilyn had spread a towel on their dresser and was pressing a pair of Ben's khakis. Ben grinned to himself. One of the perks of having an ex-military person for a spouse was their anal-retentive attention to details. Jerilyn had a lot of practice in creating shipshape creases, having done ironing not just for her uniforms, but for her father when he was still active in the Navy. Ben leaned against the doorframe. "Hi." He received a withering look and a curt "Hi," in return. "Have you drawn up divorce papers yet?" he said jokingly. "Don't tempt me Counselor," she replied, but the name "Counselor" was a good sign, it was her pet name for him. Jerilyn had pet names for just about everyone, friends and enemies. "Monkey boy" for Byers and "Papa John" for Doggett were just two examples of her nick name fanaticism. She was still struggling for an appropriate nick name for Mulder but asshole was still in the running. "Jeri," he sighed, but stuck to his resolution to eat crow. "Baby, can we... can we... could we start over?" "Ben, we've started over so many times...." "Well, three-thousand and one's the charm," he smiled and approached her, taking the hot iron out of her hands and took her in his arms. "Jeri, we don't have to agree, okay, I know you think I'm insane for what I'm doing... but on the flip side, I think you're insane for what you're doing too..." "Is this your sad attempt at an apology?" but she was smiling when she said that. Caesar the cat wound himself around their legs... *********************************************************** ***** Meanwhile... Scully's apartment Georgetown "Thanks Reyes for all your help," Scully said, holding Will as she walked Monica Reyes to the door. Reyes, still recovering from her unfortunate mishap from falling from a ladder, limped to the door. "Hopefully I'll be back in business in a month," she said with her trademark serene smile. "I didn't realize butts took so long to heal." She had broken her tailbone in the fall, putting her out of action for the most post. "Well, can't wait to have you back, have a good night," Scully wished her well as she shut the door quietly. After she put William to bed, she had just settled down in her chair when she heard Mulder's key in her door. He staggered in and collapsed on her couch, rubbing his temples. "Mulder, what's the matter?" "Bad headache, got any Valium?" "How would Valium cure a headache?" Scully huffed, irritated as usual at how poorly Mulder always took care of himself. "It would make me completely numb to the world," he closed his eyes as Scully came over. She sat down beside him and touched his forehead. "No fever, which is a good sign, but Mulder, you can't let yourself get run down, not now." "I know, I know..." Mulder tried to wave her concern off, but Dr. Scully wouldn't allow it. "No you don't Mulder," she began sternly. "Scully," he opened his eyes and started to give her the puppy-dog eyes. "I'm just tired. It's just a headache. I've just had a bad day..." Scully took his hand. "Tell me." Mulder sighed. "Someone is trying to get me fired at City Hall...." "... and to top it all off," Mulder rubbed his eyes again wearily. "My car got stolen." "Oh God, Mulder, did you call-" "The police," Mulder finished her question for her, "yes I did. I told them the make and the model and the plate numbers. I told them the color and what the bumper sticker said. I told them where I usually park it, underneath the big sign that says "Parking for the Deputy Mayor Only, All Others Will Be Towed." I told them the last approximate time I saw my car. They thanked me for all the information I provided and told me that they'd get right on it... before they started to laugh hysterically, of course." Mulder looked up at her and deadpanned. "And how was your day, Pookie?" "Pookie?" she asked flatly. Just then, the baby started to cry in the other room. Mulder's face crumpled in pain as the wails became piercing. Scully, more concerned for William than Mulder, naturally, bolted up, but Mulder grabbed her wrist. "I'll go, haven't seen the slugger all day, except for this morning," and with a sigh, he heaved himself off the couch and down towards Scully's bedroom. Which was a good thing because just then, Maggie Scully had decided to give her daughter a phone call and was in the mood for a nice long cozy chat. An entire hour had passed before Scully could finally draw the phone call to an end. "Alright, I'll talk to you soon, I love you Mom... ok Mom... Yes Mom... okay, I'll talk to you soon.... I love you too... yes Mom, I'll tell him... okay... yeah Mom... I love you...I'll talk to you soon... okay, Mom... love you... BYE!" She hung up the phone with a bemused smile. Every since Scully had the baby, Maggie had rung up her long distance bill, calling with maternal hints and suggestions. Scully then noticed how quiet it was. She padded down her hallway, feeling some of that leftover fear that she felt when Krycek, may God rot his lying soul, told her that her baby was "special" and that "they" were coming for it. The door was partially closed. Only a sliver of light from the baby's teddy bear shaped night light shone out. Scully felt her heart pounding. Slowly, FBI slowly, she pushed open the door. "Mul-" she started to say, but stopped. Back to her, Mulder was holding William, standing in front of the window. Sillouetted by the street lights, Mulder was making a valiant effort to sing... effort being the key word. "Hey diddle diddle put your kitty in the middle and swing like you didn't care," he crooned, softly, gently and completely out of tune, "so I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play and... um.... la la la la... la... um... don't know the words to this part but...I knew that love was here to stay when she told me to walk this way, talk this way, walk this way, talk this way," he happened to turn around to see Scully standing there. He grinned and sang "Just give me a little kiss..." Scully went to him and looked up at him with her baby. "You're singing Aerosmith to MY child?" she crossed her arms. "Sure, they're a classic," Mulder said, at his most maddening, shifting Will to one arm so he could use his other arm to pull Scully to him. "I started to listen to them when I was a kid, so I figured," Mulder shrugged. "Why not?" "Mulder," she said, wriggling enough to put her arms on top of his to draw him and her baby closer. "That boy is going to need years of therapy if you don't..." "Don't what?" Mulder kissed her forehead, then kissed the top of the baby's head. "I thought you had a headache?" "It's going away," Mulder said, resting his head on top of Scully's. "I could stay this way forever, Scully, do you know that?" as he enveloped her and her son in his strong arms. He gently started to sway, as if they were slow- dancing at a junior high dance. Scully felt her eyes welling up. As she looked up to tell him how touched she was by his sentiments, he began to sing again. "Swwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet emoooooooooooooooooooooootion..... Swwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet emoooooooooooooooooooooootion..... talk about things that nobody cares.... wearing our things that nobody wears, somebody's calling me but I gotta make clear, can't say maybe where I'll be in a year..." Scully groaned, but then smiled. He wouldn't be Mulder if he couldn't take a perfectly wonderful, sweet moment... and ruin it completely. After Mulder had called the police, the Gunmen made their way down the hall and to the Mayor's office, which, unfortunately was locked. Frohike turned to Langly. "Got a bobby pin?" "What the hell makes you think I've got a bobby pin?" "Oh yeah, I forgot, you don't even brush your hair. Byers, gimme your credit card. I gotta crack this lock somehow." "Frohickey, I refuse to give you my credit card." "Aw, come on, Virgin Monkey Boy. I promise I won't get the number off of it to buy pornos on the internet this time." "That's what you said last time." "Byers...you need serious help, man." Langly nasalled. "Look, I'll pay you back." Frohike persisted. "That's what you said last time." "I'll let you borrow them." "That's what you said last time." "Dammit, Byers, where's your sense of adventure!" "It went out the window the moment you called me Virgin Monkey Boy. I am NOT having a good day." "Byers, dude, this is a cakewalk. We'll be in and outta here in a jiffy." "Why is it on cakewalks we always tend to slip on the icing?" "Wow, it's good to know our tax money is being well-spent on swanky offices." Frohike grumbled as he opened the newly jimmied door. "Geeez...this office is nicer than *Scully's* apartment." Langly said, oogling at the bar. "Langly, get your ass over hear, we're gonna start on his email." "Awww, man!" "If you're good, we'll letchya have some of the mayor's candy." "Oh goodie." Langly said dryly. "Let's see what we got here." He turned on the computer; Frohike kept lookout at the window just in case, and shut the blinds. Byers kept his look-out post near the door. "Hmmm...nothing much here...internet porn...birthday cards to his granddaughter...Hello! Score one for Barbie Boy!" Langley said triumphantly. "Whatchya got?" "Looks like someone's jumping down the mayor's throat." Langly answered, busily keying in data, "He's got a couple of threatening emails. The addy is leolaw@juno.net. If we can figure out who that is, we might be able to get a lock on who's trying to get Mulder fired." "Do your stuff, Langly." "It's what I live for Frohickey. Here we go...but this guy's good...I don't' have an I.D. on him. I can't trace it." "Guys?" Frohike said, not really paying attention to what Langley was saying. He was nervously peering out the window. "What, Fro?" "The mayor's coming up the walk. I think we better move." "Shit! What's he doing back here?!" "Maybe he's come back to look at some of this internet porn." Langley suggested. "Shut up Langly." The two chorused in unison. They shut the computer off, and gingerly relocked the door. "We're cooked." Frohike said in his trademark grumble. "Guys, we're cleaning dudes..." "What do you suggest, Langley," Byers said, heading for the doors, "Sweeping the Mayor out? Maybe knocking the mayor unconscious with window-cleaner fumes?" "Not a bad idea." Frohike approved. "I suggest we clean." Langley continued, turning off the computer. "Who knows, we may find somethin' out. I mean, hell...a man running with the bad guys gotta have something to hide." "As much as I hate to admit it, Blondie's got a point, Virgin Monkey Boy." Frohike deadpanned. "Don't call me that!" Byers and Langley both shouted in unison. Byers, Langly, and Frohike all scampered across the hall, like three little kids who were trying not to get caught by parents. "Shit! I forgot to lock the door!" Langley panicked. "Oh hell." Was all Frohike said. "If he goes near the computer, we're dead." Byers said in his trademark matter-of-factness. "It's still warm." Langley, trying too hard to look like he was supposed to be there, sang barely recognizable as melody under his breath "Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan, no need to be coy Roy, just drop the key, Lee, and get yourself free." "Shut up!" Byers and Frohike hissed in unison, because just then, the mayor was coming up the walk. Langley just barely locked the door in time, and had scooted around the corner out of sight seconds after the Mayor came in the door to City Hall, fortunately for the three cleaning guys, leaving the door open. "Look at that." Byers whispered, trying not to look like Langley was someone he knew. "Wonder what he's got there?" Frohike mumbled under his breath, as he watched the Mayor put the vile in a small pocket-sized metal box and locked it. They all watched as he picked up the phone. "I got it here, and I am keeping it with me. I will not be threatened anymore. Leo, you keep threatening me this morning, and you got the vile for them. You should be more careful where you put things, next time. We started this because we thought it was the only way. Because it was either us or him or us or them. They haven't found proof of anything yet, and I don't think that they will. I don't see any reason for illuminating him, or anyone for that matter; if you do, you can threaten me all you want, you can blackmail me all you want, but it will only keep you from preserving what we originally started fighting for. If they follow through with the plans tonight, this is where we part company." They waited till the Mayor turned out the lights and locked the door with the metal box containing the vile in his hand, and then made their way down the hall. "Maybe Leo's a codename." Frohike suggested. "I thought Frohike was a codename at first." Langly said, starting the van. "Shut up and drive, Blondie." Frohike grumbled. "Whatever, Frohickey." Langley said, and put Queen in the tape player. Meanwhile Ben and Jeri's apartment Washington DC Ben cupped his wife's face in his hand and smiled into the dark pools of her eyes... strange hazel eyes, switching colors with her mood from green to gold to brown to all three colors swirled together and back again. Never the same color twice. "Jeri, even though I think you're wrong, I don't have the right to hurt your feelings." He watched her pretty eyes look away, then look down. "Hey," he said, using his other hand to stroke her cheek. "I know you hate sap and mush, but I mean it. I'm sorry Jeri. Maybe we'll be on the other side of the fence for right now, but I still need you. I don't have to be such a d*ck because you don't agree with me. We'll go our separate ways on this, but since we are fighting for the same thing, we'll meet in the middle eventually. We always do. Plus I'll work hard if you promise to do the same to keep our professional lives professional and not let it mess with our personal lives." Jerilyn, still afraid for his safety, could not argue with his logic. He had a job to do. So did she. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "And... about Doggett..." Quicksilver, she back up from him, her face puckering up into the most disagreeable expression of anger he had seen in a while. "Oh, here we go..." she snapped. "No, we don't," Ben took her hands. "I meant to say is... I'm..." <> he silently begged her while he said "I'm just jealous that he gets to see you more than I do, that's all." Jerilyn sighed. "But Ben, that's how it was with my last partner too and you were never jealous of him." "Honey, that's because he hated you. I had no worries about him moving in on my territory," Ben teased, stepping closer. "Oh Gawd." Jeri began to let down her guard. "Thanks a lot. Should I go up to my boss tomorrow and say 'Assistant Director, my husband is bitter that me and my partner get along so could you rustle up a real low life, double- crossing bad-smelling male chauvinist pig partner like I had in Minneapolis and assign him to me instead. Thanks, Ben will appreciate it.'" Now she teased, stepping closer to him, fingers playing with the buttons of his perfectly starched white dress shirt. "There you go," Ben began to pick hairpins out of Jeri's severe bun. "You're catching on to the whole subservient wife thing pretty quickl- oof!!" His "subservient wife" had just sucker punched him in the solar plexus. "Not fair." "No, 'not fair' would be below the belt," Jerilyn said with a naughty smile as she fussed with his belt buckle. "And don't get your boxers in a truss about Doggett, ok? He's a good guy." "Okay," Ben said, "but forgive me if I act like a preening male ass sometimes. Especially when it comes to Doggett." He resumed picking hairpins out of her thick luxurious hair. When it tumbled down, he ran his fingers through, marveling how silky it felt in between his paper-cut fingers. "'Cause, like it or not, big bad FBI broad, he does get to see you more than I do," he admitted quietly. Now Jerilyn was focusing on undoing his tie. Slowly she unknotted it and slid it off of him. "He doesn't get to see EVERYTHING, husband dear," she stood on tiptoes and nibbled provocatively on his neck. With a groan, he ripped the covers of the unmade bed off and crossed over to shut the blinds. He then scooped Jerilyn up and tossed her on the bed. Laughing, Jerilyn sat up on her elbows. "Is this your idea of for*play, Mr. Starkweather," she giggled as she threw her long thick hair over her shoulder over-dramatically. Ben slid on top of her and kissed her into submission. "No, Mrs. Starkweather," he said throatily as he began to work on the buttons of her blouse, "this is..." He figured he could give her the locket later... much much later... and with that decision made, he went to work on the very serious job of re-consummating their marriage. meanwhile, Doggett Residence ******************************* Sam's mind was reeling. He was at the point in exhaustion where reality became surreal, but he couldn't sleep. If he couldn't figure out a way to stop Ben's death, in, according to Al, less than twelve hours, he was powerless to stop every grim prediction Ziggy made. He held on to the faint hope that all the disaster was part of the virus that entered her system, but something told him that wasn't the case. So far, a night digging around on-line and a day chasing after Mr. Starkweather had left him empty-handed. "You're taking the expression 'the weight of the world on your shoulders' a bit too seriously, kid. You did what you could today." Al said out of nowhere. "Al, don't sneak up on me like that!" "Sorry, Sam. I'll wear a little bell on my neck next time." Sam only glowered at him. "You can't hit me, I'm a hologram! Unless you want to swing at thin air." "How's Ziggy?" Sam chastised himself for taking his anger out on Al. "We're working on her. Goushie's close to getting the virus purged from her system. For now, shut-down looks probable...but so far, it looks like we won't have to shut her down till the wee small hours. What could happen at 2am?" "Ben could be murdered, the world could end..." "...and the sky could fall. Sam, you have got to get a hold of yourself. It won't do anyone any good for you to panic. We've got it under control the best we can. We're running our back-ups to see what that vile was all about, but we got nothing so far." "Well, do what you can." "Don't I always? I'm trying to find out what I can from Doggett." "That's great! How did you manage that?" "You're not gonna like this, Sam." "Al...*please* tell me you didn't break the rules..." "I *had* to, Sam. I showed him the police reports, and it was the only way I could get him to 'fess up and believe me. God...I didn't see the reports myself until just before I hadda show them to Doggett. No *human* could have done that to Mulder." "Who is the suspect?" "They have a picture of a man named William Miles. But no HUMAN has that kinda brute strength to tear apart metal bars the way that police photo shows, Sam. They were torn apart like damn paper. Mulder's body was pretty much torn in *half*." "Al, they have solid evidence that shows a *man* committed his murder. Sometimes adrenaline gives you heightened strength. You and I know that better than anybody." "Doggett says this guy's an E.T. By the looks of what he did in that jail cell...going to do...he's on a helluva lot of steroids." "He's a man...just like you and me." "I don't think I have the ability to break a guy in half, Sam. Neither do you and you damn well know it." "I still can't believe he's alien, but I have a hunch that the vile is related to Ben's death, and if Ben's death is related to Mulder's and everyone else's, then if we can figure out what's in that vile, we've got a lead." "Even so, Sam, we have no way of knowing where that vile is. The best way to stop the world from going kablooey is stopping Ben's murder." "The guy hates me. He thinks I'm after his wife. I don't think he's wanna spend quality time with me a few days before his biggest case. Besides, if Jerilyn takes the peace offering he got him today, I don't think I'll need to keep him out of harm's way. But if that worked...why am I still here?" Al whipped out the blinking console "Could be just Ziggy's virus acting up. Uh-oh...no...Sam...sorry kid...he's still killed tonight." Church Falls Residence of Justin Leo ************************ In his 33 years, Justin Leo had never in his life had such a long week. In dire need of a stiff drink, he went over to his personal bar and poured himself a tall double-strength martini. Yes, he desperately needed to be numb. His life had always been lived quite placidly, always keeping at the tip of consciousness what had happened that summer night years ago to Lilly Stanford...Lilly Stanford Leo he always added. He would never forgive himself for letting her be taken. Until two months ago when he was approached by an Admiral from Arizona to protect certain interests. The Deputy Director was always vague as to what these interests were, but he was fairly certain early in their association that these interests involved some sort of cover-up. As the weeks increased, the money increased, and the errands increased. He became the group's Fall Guy of sorts, tampering with papers, tapering with bank account records, delivering messages that were all done under the command of a man who smoked Morley cigarettes. Justin Leo never knew his name, but somehow knew that his associates' latest target, the Deputy Mayor, porbably knew more about him than he should have. The greater part of this morning was spent telling the Mayor why his new man shouldn't be allowed to live. The Mayor couldn't agree with his arguments. The most bizarre thing he did for these four gentlemen was his most recent task. He drove with all but the man who smoked Morleys and took out a tube of green vile in a warehouse on a shady side of town. He had no idea what the vile was, or what it was for. He was only aware that it was needed, and that he was the one who was going to retrieve it for him. If it meant finding Lilly Stanford then it was all worth it. It was worth everything. It had never gone this far before. Leo--law-abiding, law- practicing, forthright Justin Leo--had never thought he was someone capable of murder. The very idea of killing someone in cold blood sickened him. He couldn't be involved anymore, but if ending a life led him to Lilly, then he would do it. The target would sacrifice his life for hers. Yes, Lily was worth another life. He had been too spineless to do anything about her abduction as he watched her go up into the blue light. Now, he would show her that he was capable of taking good care of her. He loaded a clipper with a round of shells, and in the dark, eerie light of the TV set, let his mind play back the spark that begun when he first saw Lilly's hazel eyes. Ben and Jeri's apartment Straight up midnight Spooning his wife's body, Ben absently stroked Jerilyn's sleeping form, his hand gently caressing the hollows of her flat tummy. Even though he loved Jerilyn's incredible intellect, her steadfast loyalty and her passionate heart, his male ego couldn't help but crow that his wife was strutting around in a world-class body. Hard in the right places, soft in the right places. Not that Ben was a slouch in the physique department either. Although he didn't work out as vigorously as he had while he was still in the Air National Guard, where he met Jerilyn, he still hit the gym three times a week and every summer was signed up for some sporting league. Still, he managed to cut a dashing figure in his suits and he was proud that he still had fairly hard calf muscles, a toned chest and a nice flat belly. Speaking of bellies, Ben became acutely aware of the gnawing emptiness of his. He had been in such a rush home to mend fences with Jerilyn that he hadn't stopped anywhere for a bite to eat and well, once things started to rock and roll with Jerilyn, he really hadn't thought about food until now. Rolling away from Jerilyn, he reached down for his boxers. By the light shining from the hallway, he saw that the cat had them, chewing on the waistband in the doorway. "You damn cat," he muttered as he rolled off the bed and walked towards the cat. Caesar, thinking that his master wanted to play, bounced away, shorts in mouth. "Fucking cat!" Ben hissed under his breath and followed him. Jerilyn, who he thought was sleeping, smiled. Bare-assed nekkid, Ben chased the cat around his living room for a good fifteen minutes before he was able to retrieve his shorts, and only after a good fight at that. When Ben finally slipped on his hard-won boxers, he could have sworn the cat was scowling at him. "Hey, don't get pissed off at me, it was HER idea to get you neutered, not mine." Caesar skulked off to hide under the couch. Now clothed, Ben went into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator to find a carton of expired milk, half a case of Bud Light and a couple of boxes of Chinese take-out. "Okay, mental memo to self, must buy groceries sometime in the immediate future," he said to himself. He then went to the freezer. A little better luck there, there was two Totino pepperoni pizza and a full container of Ben and Jerry's Phishfood. Ben shook his head as he remembered the razzing that he received when it first got out that he was dating her. "Ben and Jeri huh? Are you gonna name your kids Chunky Monkey and Cherry Garcia?" Too unambitious to fire up the oven for pizza, he grabbed the ice cream and a spoon and wandered out to the living room. Another trait in Jerilyn that he found attractive was that they were both night owls, though how she managed to drag her ass out of bed at five-fifteen almost every morning for a run was beyond him. He sat down on the couch, found his cigarettes and lighter, lit up and thumbed through the mail. Bills, bills, more bills and today's newspaper. On the front page, bottom corner left was a dorky picture of the Mayor and his Deputy Mayor at some ribbon cutting. Ben shook his head and tossed the paper down on the coffee table. Perhaps triggered by the "Ben and Jerry" memory, Ben reached for the photo album on the coffee table. He was an amateur photographer. For Christmas two years ago, Jeri had bought him a nice used old school Minolta manual camera, which he loved. Finishing his smoke, he began to eat the ice-cream and flipped through the album, which started with beer parties pictures from law school, then some bar pictures with his old friends at the Des Moines Air National Guard unit. Then A LOT of pictures of Jerilyn when they first started dating. He smiled as he got to the sequence of pictures when he first took her home to Minnesota to meet his family. He remember that week up at his parents' summer home on the lake. After that week, he was convinced he was going to marry her. He paused briefly at his favorite picture of her, the one he had made of copy of and had framed at his office. He had snapped her picture completely unaware. He and his father were cruising by in his dad's boat while she was sunning herself on dock, face tilted towards the sun, long hair blowing in the breeze, back before she started dying it blond... Ben stopped. Then looked again. He grabbed the newspaper and looked. Then looked at the picture in the photo album again. Jerilyn was sitting on the dock, completely free and easy, legs dangling in the lake water. The lake surrounding her was a blue as a dream. She was wearing a bikini top and a pair of ratty demin shorts that had seen better days. Her eyes were squinted because of the sun and one hand was pushing her long dark brown hair out of her eyes... Ben looked back at the newspaper again. The Honorable Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder was wearing a black suit with a dark blue shirt and a snazzy blue and silver tie. His eyes were squinted because he was facing the sun. One hand was pushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes... Ben took a quick breath. "Holy God," he said while thinking Granted, the physical differences would throw anyone. Jerilyn had fair skin and her nose was very small and straight, almost elfish. While Mulder had a more swarthy complexion and his nose looked like it had been broken a few times. Plus Mulder was well over six foot tall and Jerilyn only had a few inches, if even that, over Scully. Still... and Ben knew his Mendolian laws quite well. Plus, as a lawyer and an amateur photographer, he was well trained for looking for the minute details. They had the *exact* same dark hair color, the *exact* same pouty Cupid lips, the *exact* same eye-color and even the *exact* same unconscious facial and body expressions. It was too close to be a coincidence. "Oh my God..." he moaned. "How do I tell her that the man she hates more than life itself may be her brother... Jesus H., when did my life turn into a freaking soap opera?" He chuckled. "'As the Stomach Churns.'" Just then, the phone rang. "Who the hell?" Ben dove for the phone, hoping to get it before the ringing woke up Jerilyn. "Hello?" he asked rudely. It was, after all, way after midnight. "Didn't you get my message?" A breathy feminine voice asked... Jerilyn, who was not asleep, had lazily reached for the phone when it rang just as Ben had. She heard Ben's harsh "Hello?" and was about to hang up again when she heard the sulty woman's voice ask if he received his message. Wide awake now, she bolted up in bed, covering the mouthpiece with her hand, listening. "What message?" Ben rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Miss, I think you have the wrong numbe-" "This isn't the wrong number, Ben and you know what message I'm talking about." Ben remembered. "I'm not going anywhere tonight." "It won't take long. Jerilyn won't even know you're gone." Jerilyn's rapid-fire temper was already heated up. "I'm tired," Ben protested. "I am not up for any games in the dark tonight." "This is no game, Counselor," the woman purred. "I have all the answers to every question you seek." A pregnant pause. "We'll see," Ben growled. I'll be waiting," was all the woman said before she hung up. Ben groaned. Got up, looked at his half-melted ice-cream. Looked at the pictures of his wife and the newspaper paper of the Deputy Mayor. He lit a cigarette, smoking it to the filter while he paced. <> he wondered. His curiosity was riled, he crept back to his bedroom... ... and found his wife, standing in the doorway, dressed and loading her gun. Not a good sign. "Wherever you think you're going tonight, honey," Agent Starkweather said, holstering her gun. "You're taking me with." Al, who had been watching the whole time, groaned silently. <> he thought in relief.... "No you're not," Ben snapped, pushing past Jerilyn to the dresser where he pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Excuse me?" Jerilyn put the gun down on the dresser and faced Ben as he dressed. "Some femme fatale calls at the witching hour, telling you she needs to meet with you tonight because she's got "the answers" and you have the balls to tell me that I'm not coming with? Ben, I know you're not stupid enough to cheat on me so I'm thinking this is about that damn oil rig case. And if it is and something is going down tonight, something that we can blow them out of the water with... I don't know, call me silly, but MAYBE you'd want someone with a gun and a badge and handcuffs there. I can call Doggett and the DC PD and we'd be all over it in less than ten minutes." "How do you know this is even about the case?" "Because," she said condescendingly, "I work for the *X- Files.* Granted, I'm still a rookie, but a mysterious phone call in the middle of the night usually means some spooky shit is going to go down." "Jerilyn," he said reluctantly. "You can't come." "Why the hell not?" "Because... you're going to be subpeanoed for this case too." "WHAT!!" she exploded. "Is that what you meant by all that "meeting in the middle" crap? Besides, what good is my testimony going to do? I wasn't even working on the X-Files when all of that went down." "I know, but I need you as a character witness, reaffirming the credentials of Doggett and Mulder." "And a day ago you were ready to cook me because you thought I was ready to bone Doggett... excuse the nasty pun." "Aw, Christ, I thought we settled that!" Ben fired back. "I said I was wrong, I said I was sorry." "Then let me come with you." "NO." "Ben, no offense, but you are a desk jockey, okay? Your territory is the law library and the court room. If I'm not mistaken, you were trying to sneak out in the dead of night, dressed in black," she looked up and down at his dark jeans and black t-shirt, "you're acting like a man going on a stakeout and that's MY playing field." "Jerilyn," he said as patiently as he could. "Honey, I need you to trust me on this one. Yes, part of this is about the case, but part of it... is... for us." "Us?" "Jerilyn..." Ben said. "I need to go do a little digging. You're right, I'm a desk jockey, so research is MY thing and I've got big time questions, especially concerning the Deputy Mayor." Right away, her face crinkled in distaste, but he plodded on, "I think this case has a lot more to do with Mulder than we realize." "Aaarrrrrgghhhh, CHRIST!! If it's an X-File, it's about Mulder, whether he's there or not. How does THAT affect anything?" "Not in a professional sense... personally, it would affect us personally." "How?" Ben took her by the hand and led her out to the living room. "Sit down," he said gently. "If I'm right... you're not going to like this." "Look at this picture," Ben pointed to the picture of her that he was admiring just a few moments ago. Jerilyn looked. "Yep that's me and I'm cute. So what?" "Look at this picture," he handed her the newspaper. Jerilyn looked, then handed it back to him. "And...?" "You don't see it!?!?" Ben said incredulously. "See what?" "Jerilyn LOOK," he said insistently. "The hair, the mouth, the EYES, Jeri, look at the eyes..." Al, meanwhile was still hovering about nervously, just waiting for Ziggy to go completely on the fritz and letting Jeri see him. Al worried. Jerilyn looked, really really looked. She paled slightly but said defiantly. "NO." "Jeri, it's a possibility. You don't know who your natural parents are." "Ben," Now Jerilyn was being patient. "I'm not Samantha, I'm too young to be her. Plus, Scully told me that about two years ago that mystery was laid to rest. The girl is dead. She was killed when she was fourteen. I would have been six at the time." "You told me all about Samantha's abduction horror story and I'm not saying you're her. What I'm saying is... what if there was another sister?" "Another sister? That the family CONVIENIENTLY forgot about? They lost one kid so what's another one? Besides Ben, I was found in Hawaii when Mom and Dad were stationed in Pearl Harbor. As far as I know, Mulder was born and raised on the East Coast. What the hell have you been smoking?" "What if Mulder's dad had an affair or- or- his mother maybe? And she hid the pregnancy and gave you away afterwards?" "You are full of shit" Jerilyn said. "You tell me I'm crazy for staying with the X-Files, you think Scully and Mulder are nuts and now you're talking like them! Or, more accurately, you're talking like Mulder. You're coming up with this whole parentage theory based on two photographs." "Which is why I need to go, by myself." Ben said. "You said yourself these men are dangerous. From what little you've told me, they've been gunning for Mulder since Day One... and anyone remotely connected. Look, maybe I'm wrong, and I know you think I'm wrong... but that's just because you hate the guy and want nothing to do with him. But Jeri, honey," he said taking her hands, "what if these guys... this... what was that name you called them, the Syndicate?" Jerilyn nodded. Ben went on. "This Syndicate thing makes the same assumption that I did. They went after Scully. They went after their kid-" Jerilyn noticed with bemusement that her husband was the first to refer to the baby as both Mulder and Scully's son. "- what if they come after you? What if you were right and all that crazy shit that went down while you and Scully and Doggett were in Scotland was nothing more than a ruse just to bring you down." "People try to bring me down because I'm a federal agent and because I'm the Admiral's daughter. Not because Mulder and I are even remotely related, which I think is crazy and the worst stall tactic I have ever seen you use, Counselor." "Stall tactic?!?!" Ben's jaw dropped. "You're trying to piss me off about this whole supposed connection so I'll get mad enough to send you merrily about your way to play Mission Impossible alone. Ben, if you got a tip about these people... it could be a trap and you could get killed. Ben, I watched my partner get wounded and two of my friends die back at Minneapolis because of horseshit like this, and we had a team of six undercover guys on that case." "I remember that," Ben said grimly, for Jerilyn had been two months pregnant with the child she would lose three weeks after that unfortunate incident. "You're not going alone." "Yes I am." "NO YOU'RE NOT!" Al and Jerilyn shouted at the same time. Jerilyn jumped and looked around wildly. "What is it?" Ben asked. "I think I'm losing my mind." Jerilyn mumbled. Then she pressed on. "Fine, if I'm not going with, then either Scully or Doggett IS." "Goddamn it, I don't need a babysitter!" he yelled. Ben, you are WAY over your head on this one! If you're going to go, then TAKE someone with. If not, then for god's sake, don't go! Cripes, it's twenty to one already!" "Then give me the fucking file for the oil rig case!" Ben shouted. "Let me read it so I know what happened so I won't have to jump through these goddamn hoops!" "I CAN'T!" she yelled back. "Besides, I thought you had Kersh by the nose and he was going to give you that file." "I may have him by the nose, but your daddy's got him by the balls and I could get that file plus several others if you call him and tell him that we need them." "You know what?" Jerilyn said coldly. "If you're going to be a damn fool about this, then just go." Ben went into the bedroom to get his wallet and socks and shoes. Jerilyn stood up, pursed her lips together. "Dammit," she cursed. She followed him to the bedroom. "Wait." she asked. Ben stood there, arms crossed. Jerilyn went to small cabinet in their walk-in closet where she kept her weapons and amno under lock and key. She walked out, loading her little Beretta she wore on an ankle-holster. "Take this." "Aw, for God's sake-" he started to protest. "Humor me." So he took the weapon and walked out. Jerilyn followed him. Ben paused at the front door. "I wish you would trust me," he said sadly. Icily she replied. "I wish I could trust you too." Ben slammed the door. Al shook his head <> he thought woefully as he punched some buttons so he would be sent to Sam's so he could update him on the information he received from Doggett before he popped in on the Starkweathers. Doggett Residence ******************** "Al, you can't expect me to believe Billy Miles is an alien." Sam said, pacing back and forth. "How else do you explain it? I'm not expecting you to believe it. All I'm expecting you to do here is stop Ben's murder. Stopping Billy Miles might be the only way to do that, and if Billy Miles has the strength to rip those bars apart and a man in half, well...all I'm sayin' is he ain't the Incredible Hulk." Al rebuttled, taking a long, much needed puff on his cigar. "The vile that you saw the freaky four get today might have a connection to Billy Miles." He said quietly, and then folding his arms. "Connection? How?" "While Goushie was running some tests on Zig and I couldn't get to you earlier today, Doggett and I had a nice little chat. He read the police reports I showed him, and said something didn't match up." "A lot doesn't seem to be matching up in this leap." "Yeah, well...something apparently was overlooked in the original investigation." Al said, hoping that Sam would skip the part where he had to break the rules and show him the police report. "What was overlooked?" Sam asked, and then in rapid-fire speed, sputtered out "How did Doggett know that it was overlooked?" "A man by the name of Justin Leo who was questioned the first time around mentioned the vile." Choosing not to answer the first question. "This was definately a high profile case, spread wall-to-wall all over the news, so the quiestioning officer never gave it a second thought. The vile was never mentioned in police reports." "How did Doggett know that it was overlooked Al?" Sam demanded. "I...uh...kinda hadda show him the old police reports..." "Al! You know we can't do that! Do you have *ANY* idea what might have happened because you told him the deal? You are lucky you weren't yanked off of the project! Or worse! You know what happens when we break policies! Dammit Al! What POSSESSED you to--" "Goushie, wait!" Al shouted into the air, apparently not paying attention to Sam's ranting. "Sam, I--" Just when Sam was going to let Al explain himself, he was gone. Sam was alone. 2:36 AM Doggett Residence ***************** Sam wasted no time after Al disappeared. He figured Ziggy's breakdown had to happen sooner than originally plan. Ben was going to get killed in less than two hours, and the only clue they had was the testimony from someone who may or may not be involved in his murder. A man named Justin Leo. "Let your fingers do the waking..." Sam mumbled as he fumbled through the yellow pages. There were only five Leo's in the book at all, and only one of them was named Justin. The address was a Maryland one, 242 Washington Avenue. Luckily, since Doggett was recently new to the area, it wasn't hard to find a Maryland City map neatly folded in what Sam assumed was a "junk drawer." He found the address with relative ease, bolted out the door, and didn't care that his tires screamed as he tore out of the driveway. He had to get to this Leo guy before Leo--or whoever--got to Ben. With a little luck, getting to Leo would at least delay what happened. He drove furiously, and the traffic angels were with him for once. There were barely any red lights or traffic...of course, what can you expect at that hour? He barrelled through a railroad track, barely missing the rails. The neighborhood close to the address was a modest one. The yards were mostly small, poorly kept and littered with trash. There were people milling around on the street corner, shouting over the beat of their boom box, eyeing the pick-up as it inched up the street, while Sam looked for 242. 236...238...240...here it was...242. It was a one-story house with cracked dirty-white paint, and dingy blue trim. All the windows were lightless except a TV flickering in a window. Sam made his way up to the door, and pounded his fists. Sam felt like he was in the middle of a bad detective movie. "Open up! FBI!" A man with dark hair and a ten-o'clock shadow etching his chisled features opened the door. He donned a ratty Orioles T-shirt as swiss-cheased as Sam's memory and black sweats. "Can I help you?" He said, glancing back inside as if he had to get back to something soon. "Yeah, you're not in trouble or anything, all I need from you is a few answers. I'm Sa-John Doggett with the FBI. "Well, Agent SaJohn Doggett, what do you need to know?" The man scoffed, and inched away from the door. "You have a lot of stuff up here about uh...aliens..." Doggett said, looking around the house. There was an "I Want to Believe" poster like the one that hang in the x- files office, and newspaper clippings, tabloid articles, and even a map pinpointing, what Sam guessed, was recent sitings. "Kind of modest for a lawyer." "Yeah...this hobby of mine is expensive. I didn't know keeping track of little green men was against the law these days." "No...it isn't...just know someone else who keeps track of this stuff, too. He took out a recent photograph of Mulder that was in yesterday's paper of him and the Mayor at a ribbon-cutting. Mr. Leo shifted glances nervously from Sam to the paper, making the connection all too obvious. "He found anything?" Leo asked simply. "He's found out too much. I think that's why some people are out to get him. You know anything about that?" "What did he find?" Leo begged...and then swallowed, as if he needed oxygen to follow up with the next question. "Did he find Lily?" The man never even faced Sam, and visibly shriveled. Sam took a gamble and cautiously tried to talk the man out of getting involved with the Smoking Man and Kersh and the rest. It became clear to Sam that this man was only going through the only vehicle he saw possible to find Lilly-- whoever she was. "He--we can find her. The right way." Sam was hoping he was getting through to him. "I can't promise that." Leo said quietly. "Then I can't promise you won't have a headache later." Sam said rapid-fire. And with one fell swoop, knocked Leo cold, and tied him to the chair. "Sorry about this. I'll come back to get you in the morning, I'll bring an icepack and some aspirin with me." Sam ran out of the house, and figured with him tied up, he wasn't going anywhere until he came back for him. Sam decided his best next step would be to see if anyone saw the same car he saw drive up to the warehouse. The kids were all at least twice his size, but he knew how to defend himself if that was necessary, so he went up to them amiably. He wasn't scared of them, and made sure that these people knew that. "John Doggett FBI. None of you guys are in any trouble, just wanna know something." "We ain't do nothin'" A tall kid, obviously their leader, with a nose that had been broken a few times, fair skin and bleached white hair defensed. "I--uh--didn't come here to arrest anyone, and I am not asking you to rat on any of you, either. Just wanna know one thing, that's all." "You wanna get us in trouble, Donnie?" Someone who was obviously his girlfriend asked. She was short, but had an odd trick of using that to her advantage, not letting that stop her from showing the kid who was in charge. "Don't talk to him like that, your mamma taught you better...and if she ain't, you know sure as hell I have. Straighten up! Now, agent," She said, turning to Sam and blinking her coffee eyes frankly at him, "whatchya wanna know?" "Charmaine, you gonna get us into sh*t we don't need to be in! This ain't our business. Don't tell him nothin'!" Donnie made one final plea. "Man, Donnie, she ain't never gonna hush up if you don't shutchyer trap. Now, 'fore I shoot your ugly head off, zip it! "Thank you, Nick." She said turning to the kid. "But if anyone's gonna shoot his ugly head off, it's gonna be *me*!" Charmaine said in the quiet anger of a tiger's growl. "Now, I apologize for my peeps, sir...*what* do you want to know?" "Just wondering if you guys noticed a nice car driving up to that house over there." He said, pointing to Leo's house. "It's a dark Sedan, newer car. Three or four older guys might be inside. You see anything like that?" "If we saw somethin' do we hafta come to court?" Nick asked. "No...nothing like that. I just need to know if you saw something." "Uh, these dudes were coming up from the direction you came up in a real nice sedan like that...might be navy blue or black. We couldn't tell. Looked real nice. They came up to us and paid us all like a hundred dollars each to come knock on that guys house if any cops were driving around here." "Thanks. Did they tell you guys why?" Sam was finally getting leads that night. "No...never did. Hell, at a hundred bucks, we didn't *care* why." "I appreciate it guys. If you ever need anything, or remember anything, just lemme know, alright?" He said, writing his name and office number on a scrap piece of paper in his pocket. "You guys take care." He said, handing the note to Charmaine. ***************************************************** 2:36AM Washington D.C. police Department ********************************* "The Deputy Mayor's on his way to get his car." "So, fellas," Officer Dempsey was saying in the police station to the two cuffed suspects, looking at the two incredulously, "you're saying that this old dude smoking a cigarette hired you to steal a car. Sergeant, you wanna look through our data base and see if we've got a criminal record for This Old Dude Smoking a Cigarette? I'm sorry gentlemen, but the crumbs here just don't make a whole cracker. Why would someone want to steal the Deputy Mayor's car, to have it being driven back to them?" "We dunno, all we know is all we know, Miss Officer." Caster said. "He paid us five hundred for the bothovus. We didn't ask." "I see." She said, eyeing the both of them incredulously. "I'm gonna book you both for wreckless driving and aiding and abetting (sp?) a crime, and car theft." Then took a big breath, "You Damion Caster and Robert Carteri have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, if you cannot affoard an attorney one will be provided for you by the state. Do you understand what I'm saying." She finally finished, thrilled with herself that she finally made it in one breath. The officer cuffing Carteri nodded approvingly. "Pete, you think you can take 'em into holding?" Wordlessly he took both the criminals to their cells just as Mulder was driving up to the station to get his car. Wordlessly, another officer took them into holding. Almost as soon as he left, Mulder breezed through the door in his sloppiest sweat pants and Yankees t-shirt "Officer, you said my car was here?" Mulder asked "Yeah," a surly stick-of-a-man grumbled, "It's in holding. Just fill these out, and you'll be able to get it in the morning." "The morning! Listen, Officer Krumsky, I'm NOT going to be late for work because I can't get my car out of holding!" "Sorry, Mr. Mulder, but the holding office ain't open till 7:30. There ain't nothin' I can do. And my name *AIN'T* Officer Krumsky." "I'm sure there isn't, Officer Krumsky." "Oh, go blow it out your tail pipe." He grumbled as Mulder turned on his heals. A black Sedan drove up to the police headquarters. An elderly man got out of the car, and approached the desk. "Is Mr. Mulder's car ready? I'm here on his behalf." He said, slipping a hundred dollar bill. "Thank you, sir. Yes, it is. It's in holding though, and you won't be able to get it till it opens at 7:30." "In holding, eh?" He feigned loosing something, "He gave me the slips and the license plate and everything, but I seemed to have lost it. Can you give me another copy." "Yeah, I think that can be done. Have a nice night, sir. Take care!" The officer chirped as the man walked out. ***************************************************** 1:55am 500 block Pennsylvania Ave. **************************** The sugar and caffeine high from her doughnut and coffee break half an hour ago was not helping Officer Laura Dempsey awake. The drone of the APB's were not helping the situation, either. She willed her second wind to hit as she cruised down Pennsylvania Avenue. It was a quiet night, and she definitely needed some excitement to perk her up. The blue-hair special, this one a light blue '83 two-door Ford Taurus a few feet in front of her squealed its tires and wove in and out of traffic like a bat out of hell. She radioed her Sergeant and started chasing after it. "I gotta tail on MD license plate MS 101321, an '83, 84 light blue Ford Taurus, two door." "Our database says that's a hot one." Her boss replied, "I'll send ya some back-up." "Grandma forgot to lock her door on her way in to play bingo Sarge?" "It's the Deputy Mayor's car." "Damn, good to see our tax-money put to use. I'm on 'em." She put the police lights on, they wouldn't pull over. She turned on the siren, and they still wouldn't pull over. She chased after them down JFK, till a train finally forced them to stop. "Hold it right there! You're under arrest." Laura boomed through the loud speaker. Finally, the car pulled into a gas station. "The Deputy Mayor's going to be happy to get his car back, boys." Laura said after the usual cuffing them and reading their rights. "He hired us." The one named Caster said "*WHO* hired you? For *WHAT*?" Potomac River Bay Warehouse 3:02 AM Ben sat in his car, chain-smoking furiously. <> he thought as he smoked down the last cigarette that he had. The fight with his wife, the speeding drive he made down to the warehouse, sitting there for three hours had all come to naught. Oh how Jerilyn was going to rub it in when he told her. "Nothin' but a damn snipe hunt," he growled as he turned his car on and pulled away. After seeing his father-in-law with all those other men of power earlier today, Ben really wanted to talk to him more than anything else. He was getting to the point where he really wasn't caring about the case anymore, he hated to admit that Jerilyn was right and he was getting over his head. But, after tonight's revelation, he knew he had to talk to the Admiral. He had to know if he was right. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Admiral knew the truth behind Jerilyn's true origins and it was no coincidence that a spot in the X-Files opened up just as Jerilyn's career in Minneapolis started to go down the toilet. <> Ben thought as he pulled up to a Kum- and-Go to buy more cigarettes <> He could totally see Mulder and Jerilyn start bickering at a picnic table over dessert and Mulder, just to be obnoxious, smearing frosting on her face, then Jerilyn would be up in arms and come after him with the whole damn cake. He could also imagine recounting the events to his colleagues at work. "How was the reunion, Benny?" -- "Oh great, until my wife and my new brother-in- law started a food fight." Ben bought cigarettes, a hot dog with the works and a bottle of Evian water. He thanked the clerk and got back into his car. Eating the sloppy hot dog, he drove around a bit, not wanted to go home, not wanting to concede defeat, not wanting to have to spend the rest of the night having to listen to her rub it in what an idiot he had behaved. He toyed with the idea of going to the office and getting an early start, but he nixed that idea. He was tired. He drove around until he found a decent hotel. He pulled into a Holiday Inn that was not really popular with the touristy crowd and checked in. He took the wallet out of his back pocket of his jeans and Jerilyn's gun out of the pocket of his coat. He kicked off his shoes and wearily flopped down on the bed. Not even two seconds later, the door was kicked in, shattering the lock. "What the hell?" Ben demanded but the two assailants pummeled him into submission with heavy Magna flashlights. Bleeding, broken and unconscious, the two men in black dragged Ben out to the deserted parking lot towards a very nice Taurus with a "I Believe" bumper sticker on the back fender. An elderly man wearing a black suit and trench coat despite the June heat, lifted the hood of the car with his gloved hands. The two men dumped Ben in. The old man took out a small knife and made a cut in Ben's scalp. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him bleed copiously all over the trunk. The old man slammed the trunk hard and ordered his accomplices. "Plans have changed. We need him alive. Bring him to the round-a-view point. Then take the car back and make sure you're discovered. We'll have you out on bond by the afternoon and you'll each have a million in your bank accounts waiting." The other two men nodded, got in the Taurus and drove off with the Cigarette Smoking Man lighting up a Morley, watching. Jerilyn's gun laid on the nightstand next to the alarm clock in the hotel room, untouched, unused and totally useless. Cherry Tree Apartments Effiency #1013 Dawn CGB Spender let himself into the little apartment rented under the name of John Archway. Unloosing his tie, he sank into the Barcolounger he just got yesterday. He toyed with the idea of turning the television on for white noise, but decided the noise of the most influential city in the United States making the transition from darkness into light would be background sound enough. "I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled to himself as he lit a cigarette. He smiled ruefully as he thought about his life after a year. Foolish Covarrubias and Krycek, leaving him for dead at the bottom of the stairs, without eliminating his nurse. She had rescued him and brought him to "the greys." With Jeremiah Smith as their prisoner, he was forced to heal him. Such irony. The Cancer Man had felt better now than he had in years. He laid low for the most part, convinced the X-Files would fall apart without the watchful eye of Mulder. He soon learned that, although he admired her, he had also underestimated Dana Scully. He had also underestimated the new G-man, John Doggett. No one expected the straight-laced modern day Rhett Bulter with the Brooklynese accent to last through the weirdness of the X-Files. He had also underestimated Monica Reyes. She had been foolishly written off as a flake, a nobody, not a force to be reckoned with. Still he remained in retirement. He was rather enjoying a bit of peace, letting the new recruits slowly rebuild the project. Then he heard there was Starkweather on the forecast and he seized control of the project he started so many years ago. He knew that he would never know peace again. Twenty-eight years too late, he realized the Syndicate made two fatal mistakes. The first was only taking Samantha and not Fox. The second was letting the Admiral taking the girl-baby home to his wife when he was ordered to destroy her, at the time the only evidence of successful alien- human hybridization. He wondered how long it would be before they would figure it out that Jerilyn was in this world but not of this world. He worried about when Jerilyn would produce a child of her own. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder already created one and that was bad enough. If Starkweather were to ever procreate... he didn't even want to think of it... which was why it was a godsend that Mr. Starkweather had decided to meddle in the oil rig affair. Perfect opportunity to make Mrs. Starkweather a widow. But that wasn't enough. The Cancer Man knew he had to do more. For his own reasons, he had tried to keep Fox Mulder alive ever since he was a child. Because of the strength of the Admiral's pleading and the assumption that the infant would die within hours anyway, he let him take Jerilyn home. But now, twenty-eight years too late, he realized that twice, by letting emotions rule instead, he very well may have crafted the doom of his own planet. There was precious little time left to rectify those mistakes. Fox William Mulder and Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather were not children anymore. The decision had been made and he could rest with his conscience. The Mulder dynasty would be wiped out with one fell stroke. It had to be. Ben and Jeri's apartment 5:10 AM The radio alarm clock went off, right in the middle of "The Bob and Tom" show. Jerilyn's hand snaked out from underneath of the covered and solidly thumped the alarm clock. She snuggled deeper under the covers and scootched closer to the middle of the bed where Ben usually slept. Jerilyn sat straight up in bed. "Ben?" she asked. She leapt out of bed and reached for the phone, calling Ben's office first. It rang and rang and rang. "Don't panic, don't panic..." she told herself as she dialed Ben's cell phone. "Why did I let him go alone..." ******************* The Holiday Inn Room 127 Detective Edward Carillo surveyed the scene while the forensics team went through the room with a fine-tooth comb. He turned to the night-manager who was perspiring heavily. "And NOBODY saw ANYTHING?" he asked. The night-manager wiped his forehead with a white hankerchief. "No sir, Mr. Starkweather checked in a quarter to three. Our security guard noticed the door broken into at about four-thirty and saw the blood all over. We called the police immediately. We didn't touch ANYTHING." Just then, the cell phone on the nightstand next to the gun began to ring. Carillo took out his own hankerchief and picked up the phone. "Hello?" A pause. Then, a surly suspicious voice, "You're not Ben." "No, I am not. Who may you be?" "Who is this?" "I asked you first." "I'm Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather with the Federal Bureau of Investigation who is trying to call her husband on his cell phone. With those pleasantries out of the way - - WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" "My name is Detective Edward Carillo with the DC PD, Agent Starkwe-" "Detective?? DETECTIVE?? What-- wh-what's going on? Where's Ben?" "Agent Starkweather, could you meet us at the police station in twenty minutes." "Oh God, oh my God... WHAT HAPPENED! WHERE IS BEN??" Jerilyn clutched the phone tightly. "Mrs. Starkweather we need to ask you some questions." Jerilyn pulled herself together and forced her to think like an FBI agent. "Okay, okay... I'll be there as soon as possible." She hung up the phone. Took several deep breaths, picked up the phone and dialed. ****************** Sam had just got to Doggett's apartment. He stopped at the door, holding the keys in his hands. "Okay, if I stopped Ben's murder, I will leap... now... NOW... NOW NOW NOW..." Doggett's cell phone began to ring. "Oh no..." he answered with a heavy heart... "Doggett." There were several deep breaths before: "Papa.. um... it's me, I need a favor..." a small voice on the other end replied. "Ben's gone... nobody knows where he is. A cop answered his cell phone when I tried to call and he told me he wants me to come to the police station... and... and I don't want to go by myself..." her voice cracked. Sam grimaced. "I'll pick you up," he said. "Thank you." a subdued Starkweather hung up the phone. Sam put the phone to his head. "Oh boy." Al was yanked from Sam and Doggett's house into complete darkness. He knew immediately what had happened. They had to break Ziggy down to try and purge the virus. To do that, they had to turn off the electricity. Unfortunately, the electricity was killed before Al had a chance to get out of the chamber door. It was as dark as unconsciousness, which oddly enough served as a small comfort to Al. He couldn't see how small the space was that he was confined in, and that was a great help to his state of mind. He started banging his fists on the door furiously. "Gooooooooooouuuuuuuuusssssssssshiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!!! !!!!!" Al hollared at the top of his lungs. "Admiral," Goushie stammerred, "I'm busy...in a way...over here, trying to fix the mainframe." Goushie always stammered, but it got worse when he had to tell something he knew the recipient didn't want to hear. "Al, we'll have the electricity back on as soon as we can, meanwhile, just sit tight, okay?" Came Dr. Beeks' crisp voice on the other side of the wall. Al flicked the gas on his lighter he kept in his pocket for his cigars. "How's Starkweather?" Doggett asked. "Dr. Beeks, would you mind telling me why he's out of the waiting room?" "I can't see to find my way outta here, Admiral." Doggett assured him. "I won't be headin' out any time soon. How's Starkweather." "Yeah, *sure* he doesn't have any feelings for her." Al grumbled. Then louder to reassure Doggett on the other side, "She's fine for now. Last I checked before the power shut was Mr. Starkweather is still killed tonight." "Damn!" He shouted, pounding his fist against the door. "Doc, you got a sledge hammer or something I can get this door down with?" Doggett suggested, trying to help. "In the emergency kit. Tina? You think you can get it for him?" "Sure 'Beena." Tina chirped. "NO!" Al protested adamantly. "If you break down that door, I can't get back there, and that's no good for anybody. Least of all for your little chickadee." "She's not my little chickadee," Doggett argued, "and if we don't get you outta there, you're gonna use up all that oxygen if we can't get the electricity back on, and that's no good for anybody either." "There's a good chance we'll get the power back on." Al persisted. "I cannot leave Sam back there!" He shouted. "There's enough Oxygen in here to last a couple of days." He said, evaluating the situation. Then turned off his lighter, because that was eating up his oxygen supply. He sat on the floor, figuring now would be a good opportunity to take a nap, fervently hoping that the electricity would turn on before it was too late 4:37 AM En route to Doggett Residence ***************************** With at least *some* good leads on, and the main suspect incapacitated, Sam decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to salvage what he could of at least a couple of the hours left of sleep. He was about to take his turn-off when he saw a black car with two elderly men sitting in the front. There was one in the back, but he couldn't make out who it was. None of the faces looked at all familiar. When they pulled up next to him at the red light before his turn-off, Sam realized that it was the same car. He waited until it wouldn't be obvious that he was being followed, and decided to take his chance. They waited until they were inside Maryland, and stopped on a bridge, and took a six-foot long unsecured bag out, and slumped it over the edge. Sam waited at the underpass in the shadows, making sure he wasn't spotted. Judging from the evidence of what these men had done before, Sam was sure that waiting till Doggett, Scully, Reyes, and Starkweather could build a strong case against them. It wouldn't do anyone any good for him to have the same fate as the pour soul of whoever was in the body bag. The latest piece of evidence would have to be revealed in the morning with everyone there. Now, Sam thought yawning, first thing's first. If he planned to be coherent at all the next day, he would need at least a little sleep. ***************************************************** ...a few hours earlier... "No...I want Starkweather alive, just make it easy to assume that he is dead." Marita said. "You *do* understand, Admiral; we will only kill him if he doesn't help our agenda. He is in no danger at this time." "It will destroy my daughter." The Admiral mildly protested. "Oh, so that's why he's in a hotel room tonight?" She hissed. "I'm sure she won't have anymore spirit left in her. That's what we're aiming for." "I won't be responsible for this." "You were responsible for the end of many lives, Admiral." she reminded coldly. "What is one more to add to the list. If he dies, she lives...we all live. He will be martyred for all of us. Maybe you can sleep at night if you think of it in that way." "What can you do about it now, anyway, Admiral." Kersh agreed. "This has all been set in motion anyway. Our people have already begun the process. You could not stop it if you tried." "I suppose I can't stop the tides, either." The Admiral said quietly, and turned on his heals, heading back to his hotel room. Scully's apartment right after Mulder gets back from the police station... Mulder let himself in just as his cell rang. "Mulder," he said in a hushed tone, for Scully and the baby were still sleeping. It was the Mayor, "I'm hoping that I caught you before you're leaving for work, I just wanted to let you know that the breakfast meeting got cancelled. I don't need you here until about ten or so." <> Mulder grinned as he looked towards Scully's bedroom. "Well... if you insist..." The Mayor chuckled before he hung up. "Go take that pretty redhead of yours out to breakfast. I'll see you around ten- thirty." Mulder, smiling like a seventeen year old boy at prom, crept into Scully's bedroom. He reflected on the many many classic novels he had to read for his English requirements while at Oxford. They always invariably described the heroine in repose with adjectives such as "angelic", "heavenly" and "queenly." Scully was none of those while she slept. The covers were kicked off, her pajamas completly rumpled. Her hair was wildly tousled, her mouth wide open, snoring slightly. Mulder shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes. He crossed over to Scully and smoothed her hair out of her face. The slight touch startled Scully out of sleep. "Mulder... what??"' "Well, Scully, I've got good news and good news." "That's a first. Normally it's bad news and worse news." Scully sat up. "The good news is they found my car. I think they're going to sell the videotape of the bust to FOX's "Stupidest Criminals."" "That IS good news," Scully said. "What's the other good news." Mulder crawled on top of the bed. "The GOOD news is, that my ass-crack of dawn breakfast meeting has been cancelled and the Mayor just called and said he didn't need me until ten-thirty." Scully rolled over. "Mulder... this is my day off... I was going to sleep in..." Mulder pounced on her and started to tickle her. "Noooooooo stop stop... you'll wake the baby..." she giggled. Mulder stopped tickling but he held her down playfully on the bed. "Come on Scully," he teased. "After an eight year long partnership fraught with peril, destruction, terror and unrequited emotional ties, we've got a lot of making up to do." "Mulder, don't you think having Will is make-up enough?" But Scully was already struggling to get Mulder's shirt off. "Well, I figure Will makes up for at least three years of unspoken sexual tension." Mulder start planting butterfly kisses on her forehead and face. Scully smiled and tilted her head up towards his to meet his mouth. "Mulder....???" "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" He was busy nibbling on her neck and working downwards. "When did our lives turn into a soap opera?" "You're complaining?" He was undoing the buttons of her pajamas top. "I mean, if you really not into this, I know of a haunted house that's a twenty minute drive north of town that's supposed to beat the one we went to a few Christmases ago. At this house, back in 1915, an entire family was killed in a house fire and when someone built a new house on the old foundations in 1936-" "Mulder?" "Yeah?" She placed her hand underneath his chin so he would have to look up at her. "Shut up." She pushed him off and laid on top of him, kissing him as she ran her finger through his hair. Mulder gave her a naughty grin and shut up. The Washington DC Vehicle Impound 7:45 am Norton Guffman walked towards the small office building, balancing a huge box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and two large Jamocha coffees. He kicked the door a few times instead of knocking. His friend and co-worker, Shaquille Rathaman opened and laughed at him. "Shoot..." she drawled. "Need a hand?" She took the coffees. "Ready for another exciting day of paper-pushin'?" he asked her as he went inside. "Oh lord, aren't I always?" Shaquille settled herself behind her desk. "Oh, hey, FYI for ya, honey. We've got the Deputy Mayor's car here in VIP status. He'll be here later today." "The Deputy wha--? Why?" "Ah, some punk-ass kids stole his car last night and when the cops recovered it, they brought it down here." "Huh," Guffman said, looking out the window at Mulder's car while slurping coffee, dribbling it down his freshly washed white blouse. "Damn," he muttered while his partner laughed. "Your wife's gonna shoot you for gettin' another shirt dirty, Norty." "Well, and the Deputy Mayor's gonna shoot us for having that car dirty, look at the big grease spot on the trunk." He put the sloppy cup of coffee down and took out his hankerchief. "I'm gonna go clean it off 'fore he gets here." "Brown noser," Shaquille said before she busied herself with paperwork. Guffman wallked outside, already feeling the oppressive June heat. "Damn," he said again, wiping his forehead. When he got close to the car, he stopped, did a double take and said "What in the world..." Gingerly he touched the spot, looked at his fingers and started to shake... "Oh my Gosh..." he ran back to the office. Shaquille looked up. "Norty, you're whiter than usual, what's up?" she quipped. "Shaquille, call the cops and get me the keys to the Deputy Mayor's car." "What? Norty have you lost you mind-" she started to say but was silenced when Guffman held up his two fingers. They were coated in blood. "Gimme those keys," he said in a shaky voice. "I think there's somethin' in that trunk." "You ain't touching a damn thing until the cops get here," Shaquille ordered as she dialed frantically. Fifteen minutes later, rookie Officer Jennifer Ithenstein opening the trunk open while her partner Howard Lisbon, still bleary-eyed from his call out to the hotel room where the up and coming lawyer Benjamin Starkweather was abducted from, covered her back. "Holy Schnikes," she exclaimed when the trunk flew open. "What is it?" Guffman quailed. But Ithenstein was busy radioing back to dispatch. "We need CSI and some DC "dicks" (police slang for detectives) at the impound, ASAP," she said harshly. "I got a trunk of a early model Ford Taurus, dripping with blood." Guffman fainted. Lisbon peered over Ithenstein's shoulder. "There's something in there," he said, slipping on latex gloves. He reached in and pulled it out. "It's a man's billfold," he announced. "I'm opening it..... oh my God..." "What is it?" Ithenstein asked looking at the one thing no one could find at the crime scene at the Holiday Inn: Benjamin Starkweather's wallet. As Lisbon stared at the Minnesota driver's license inside the wallet, he turned to his parter and said: "Call Carillo." Meanwhile Interrogation Room A Washington DC Police Station 8:01 AM Sam was leaning against the wall, angrily watching the interogation dance between Carillo and Starkweather, but holding his tongue. Carillo rubbed his temples again. "Alright, Mrs. Starkweather, let's go through this one more time." Starkweather, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of black dress slacks, her hair pulled up in its characteristic bun, gritted her teeth and glared at the detective. "Sir, with all due respect," she heroically blinked back tears. "I've told you what happened last night twice already. I am well schooled in the art of questioning. If you're looking for discrepancies in my "story", you aren't going to find any." <> Sam thought incredulously. "But you admit that you and Mr. Starkweather are having martial difficulties." "That's not exactly a deep dark secret," Starkweather said coolly. "But you let him go alone to a potentially life-threatening situation." "He was adamant about going alone, I told you this. We got into an argument about him going. He assured me that he would be fine alone, so for my own sanity's sake, I gave him one of my firearms to take with. Ben can handle a weapon. He and his father go hunting all the time. I wanted to go with or have him at least call my partner here, or my superior, Agent Scully. But he insisted on going alone, so I let him." Sam and Carillo could barely hear her say: "I shouldn't have let him go alone." Carillo pressed on. "That would be Agent Dana Scully? Of X- File fame?" "Yes sir, we all work on the X-Files." "And you believe that your husband's disappearance is directly connected to an X-File case that your husband was taking to court?" "Yes sir." Carillo's partner just then entered the interrogation room. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Carillo privately," said Dectective David Sommerset. Carillo excused himself. Despite her knowledge of the two- way mirror and the hidden tape recorder, she turned to Sam and pleaded, "What AREN'T they telling us?" "I don't know, Starkweather," Sam said helplessly. Starkweather folded her hands together as if she was praying and pressed her hands against her forehead, her shoulders shaking as she fought tears. Outside the interogation room, Sommerset asked Carillo. "Whaddya think?" "Well, she doesn't have an alibi and her reports from her previous field office in Minneapolis don't have much good to say about her, she was written up several times for inappropriate displays of temper... but... I don't know man, my gut's telling me she doesn't have a clue what's going on. I think she's clean." "Well, I think your guts right." "Whaddya got?" "Ithenstein and Lisbon went out on a car on a report with blood stains on the Deputy Mayor's trunk." "What?" "Lemme finish. The Deputy Mayor used to be a fibbie, working with the X-Files and it's no secret at City Hall or J. Edgar that the DM and Agent Starkweather do not get along. Plus, he's got no love for her husband ever since he subpoenaed him, along with Agent Doggett, Agent Scully and his own wife for some court case on the last case the DM ever worked on as an official fibbie. I don't know what the nature of the case is, but from what I've been able to gather in a short time, it's a big'un and nobody working for the Spook Squad at J. Edgar wants that case to go to trial." "What does that have to do with anything?" "Lisbon found Mr. Starkweather's wallet in the DM's trunk. The trunk was saturated in blood. We've got samples set to forensics right now." "You think those two feds," Carillo gestured towards the interrogation room, "may have cooked something up along with the DM so they don't have to go to court?" "I would have said yes," Sommerset said. "Except for the fact that our happy little car-jackers changed their stories. They're now saying that it was the Deputy Mayor that hired him. They're saying that the DM wanted Ben out of the way and when they asked if he was worried about getting caught, he laughed it off, saying that the blame would fall on those two 'cause it's been rumored that those two share more than offices, if you know what I mean. Plus it's also not a secret that the DM's got a major hard-on for Agent Doggett because Doggett supposedly pushed the DM out of the X-Files. Doggett's got a solid history for being absolutely by-the-book, plus a total career-climber. You're looked at the next possible AD when Skinner retires. As for the missus... well, maybe she's doing the nasty with him and maybe not, but if her Minneapolis transcripts are spotted, her military, her med school and her DC records are squeaky clean, not to mention her personal history of being straight as a die. According to our profiler, if she wanted to get rid of her husband, she'd be more of the type to serve him papers, not blow him away." "But neither one of 'em got alibis." "But you just said that your gut says she's clean." "I know, but I need proof to back up my gut." Carillo said. "What do you want me to do?" "Bring me the Deputy Mayor." Scully's apartment 8:17 am Spooned around her tiny body, Mulder played with her hair. "Scully?" "Hm?" "We should go somewhere." "Go where?" she asked lazily. "Out for breakfast?" "No... I mean, away, on a trip. Just me and you and Boo." "Mulder, do my ears deceive me? Are you actually suggesting a vacation? Like normal people?" "Well, I haven't really gone on a vacation except for Graceland a few years ago, unless you call being held against my will on a spaceship then being buried alive for three months a vacation." "Ha ha." Scully turned around to face him. "Where would you want to go?" "How about the Black Hills." "The Black Hills?" "Yeah. The Black Hills, South Dakota. Get a nice hotel room in Rapid City, go see Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse monument, Sturgis, hey in fact, if we can schedule it right, we can go up there the same time the big Harley Davidson rally is up there. Whaddya say, Scully? I won't shave for about two weeks and... neither would you I guess, then get all of us some matching leather pants and I'll get a Hog with a side-car so all three of us can ride up together. They make the cutest little helmets for babies..." "Mulder, your idea of family togetherness scares me." "I hope you're not suggesting Disneyland. I have a deep- seated fear of Donald Duck." "I think William's a little young for Disneyland. I think he's also a little young for Sturgis too." "Well how old does he have to be before I can take him to the rally?" "Forty." Mulder snorted with laughter. "Well, where do you want to go?" "Name a state that we haven't been to where no type of paranormal strangeness has occured to us." "Well, that rules out the majority of the Continental United States." Mulder reasoned. "How about this Scully? This weekend, I'll go up to Mom and Dad's house in Martha's Vineyard and get it fixed up and as soon as this fiasco with Ben Starkweather's law suit gets cleared up, we'll go up there for a long week and pretend we're just the typical boring, middle-aged All-American family." Scully snuggled closer. "Works for me." Just then Mulder's cell phone rang. "Arrggghhh... real life," he complained as he reached for his phone. "Mulder... yes... okay... sure that's no problem... what's this about... I see... I'll be there in forty-five minutes." He hung up. "What's that about?" "The police station. Something about my car. They said they had some questions for me." Mulder shrugged. "It's probably no big deal." He swung out of bed and headed for the shower. After checking on Will to make sure he was still asleep, Scully joined him. The police station 9:16 am "Have a seat Mr. Mulder," Detective Carillo offered. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, water? Juice." "No, thanks. What's going on?" "Oh, I've just got some quick questions," Carillo slid a photograph in front of him. "Do you know this man?" Mulder picked it up. "Sure, that's Ben Starkweather." "Do you know Mr. Starkweather very well?" Mulder's trouble sonar starting beeping loudly within him. "Has something happened to him?" "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Mulder." "I know him. Not very well, I'm better aquainted with his wife." "Ah, Mrs. Starkweather. Interesting lady, wouldn't you say?" "I wouldn't say she's a lady." "Good friends with Mrs. Starkweather?" Mulder eyed the detective suspiciously. "May I ask what this has to do with my car?" "I'm getting there. Are you good friends with Mrs. Starkweather?" Carillo asked again, a little more firmly. Mulder struggled for an answer. "No..." he finally said. "I wouldn't say Mrs. Starkweather and I are friends." "Uh-huh." Carillo made a note. "Mr. Mulder, where were you last night around.... oh... four AM?" "I was at Agent Dana Scully's house." Mulder felt himself getting defensive. "And she is...?" "My ex-partner when I was still working for the FBI." "Still good friends with Agent Scully?" "Yes." "Very good?" "We're in a relationship now," Mulder forced himself to say, it still felt weird admitting out loud what Scully really was to him. "We're raising a child together." "How nice," Carillo said. "Can she corraborate your story, Mr. Mulder?" "Yes..." Mulder felt more and more uneasy. "Where are you going with this? Has something happened to the Starkweathers?" "You could say that. Would Agent Scully lie for you?" "What?" Mulder scowled. "Detective, you better tell me what's going on?" "Mr. Mulder, the trunk of your car was coated with blood." Carillo informed him pleasantly. "and Mr. Starkweather's wallet was found in the trunk as well." "WHAT!!!" Mulder bolted out of his chair. "How?!?!" "I was hoping you could tell us." "ME?!?! But... I... I don't..." Mulder's mind began working frantically. <> "My car was stolen earlier yesterday. I received a call early this morning that it was found... but..." Mulder shook his head. "I don't have any answers for you." Carillo eyed him carefully. "I see..." "Have you told Agent Starkweather?" "We've talked to her." "Is she alright?" "I thought you two weren't friends?" "We're not... but she's doing a good job in the X-Files, my old division and she is fairly good friends with Agent Scully. We don't see eye to eye all the time... Starkweather and I, but I respect her work and don't wish any harm to her OR her husband." Against his will, Carillo stood up and said. "You may leave Mr. Mulder, but I wouldn't recommend leaving town anytime soon. You never know when an arrest warrant would pop up." He went to the door and paused, fingering the door knob. "This is your only chance to come clean and tell us what happened. I could recommend leniency." "I wish I could tell you what happened too." Mulder said clearly, firmly. "Well, when we do come up with the goods, you better not make me chase after you, Deputy Mayor." Carillo said. "Otherwise that might put me in a real bad mood and I might tell the judge to throw the book at you instead." He opened the door and watched Mulder hurry out. Sommerset came out of the observation room. "Think that was a good idea, letting Mulder go like that?" Carillo shrugged. "He ain't going anywhere. He's got a girlfriend and a baby to worry about." Just then, another officer, clutching a Ziplock baggie came running down the hall. "DETECTIVE!!!! Wait!!!" "What is it?" The officer, out of breath, "We just found a body off the pier on the Potomac. Some kids can testify that they saw a group of men dump it in the river earlier this morning and that they were driving an early model Taurus." "Like the DM's!" Carillo grabbed the young rookie by the arm. "Told ya we shouldn't have let the DM go," Sommerset snarled as he ran down the hallway where Mulder disappeared. "Are you sure it's Starkweather?" Carillo demanded the young rookie. The rookie held up the Ziplock baggie. "The body was burned, but we took this off of him. It was on the left ring-finger." Carillo took the baggie and looked at the contents. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed and took off running. Sam escorted a very shaken Jerilyn Starkweather down the dingy hallway towards the exit. He felt so bad for her that he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. She didn't fight him off. "I can't believe this is happening," she said softly, but dry-eyed. Sam was bereft words, for how could he say something as hollow as "We'll find him," when he already knew that Ben was dead. Just as they were about to exit, they met Mulder at the door. Starkweather glared. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Jerilyn, Doggett, I need to talk to you NOW," Mulder said insistantly but was interrupted by Carillo and Sommerset. Sommerset roughly grabbed Mulder by the arms, pulling out his handcuffs. "You're coming with me, buddy," he sneered. "What the hell?" Starkweather asked as Carillo pulled her aside. While Sommerset read him his rights, Mulder was yelling at Sam and Starkweather. "Jerilyn! Doggett, I'm being set up. Please! Call Scully, call the Gunmen, find out what's going on! Jerilyn, listen to me, whatever he's saying, it's NOT TRUE!!" "Mrs. Starkweather, I need your help..." As gently as he could, he told her. "We found a burned body in the river. He was wearing this." He held up the Ziplock baggie. "Can you identify this ring for me?" Starkweather looked at Mulder, looked at Carillo. She took the Ziplock baggie and took the ring out, saw the initials carved into it and dropped it. "Oh my God," she cried, scooping Ben's wedding band off the ground. "NO." She turned white. "Oh God nooooooooo..." <> Sam screamed to himself. <> "Don't worry Mrs. Starkweather," Sommerset tightned the cuffs on Mulder's wrists. Mulder winced in pain. "We've got the killer right here." "What proof!" Sam demanded. "It's all circumstantial!" Mulder, forgetting his right to remain silent. "Doggett, get her out of here, call Scully, call Skinner, get the Gunmen and get me out of this! Jerilyn, listen to me, this is a setup!" But Starkweather was glaring at Mulder, a murderous hatred burning in her eyes for her photographic memory clicked back on the arguement they had only twenty-four hours earlier... <<"You wanna get back for what I did to your mother... You set me up because you want to punish me, 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... "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 *ss." <<"If you think I'm done here, you've got another thing coming." Mulder growled...>> "It's a setup alright," Starkweather hissed at Mulder. "YOU set US up! All of us! Ben, me, Doggett, hell you even used Scully you sick son of a b*tch!!!" She went after Mulder. Assuming by her small stature, Carillo and Sommerset thought she was just going to b*tch-slap Mulder, so they made no move to stop her. Sam was the only one who really knew how physically strong she was and he tried to grab her, but her arm slipped out of his hands. Plus she moved so fast, she was almost a blur. She swung her fist and threw a round-house punch like a man. There was a sickening crunch of breaking bone and cartilege as Mulder's knees buckled. Sommerset pulled him back up and tried to pull him away. Mulder kicked at Starkweather as she grabbed him by the throat and began swearing and squeezing. "Jesus Christ, get her off of him!!!" Sommerset yelled. It took both Sam and Carillo to pull Starkweather off. Mulder, blood oozing out of his nose, gasped out. "You're making a mistake, Jerilyn! I swear, I didn't kill your husband!" "FUCK YOU FOX MULDER!!" She screamed hysterically as Sam pinned her arms. She lunged, trying to get free of Sam's grip while she continued to yell. "I'll get you for this, I swear to God Mulder, you're going to DIE for this and I'm going to watch!!!!" As Sommerset lead Mulder away, Mulder continued to yell out, "Doggett, Doggett, talk some sense into her!!! Get Scully!!!!" "Starkweather, c'mon..." Sam pulled Starkweather away. Carillo tried to stop them. "I need to ask her a few questions..." "Hasn't she had enough today?" Sam snapped, "she just found out her husband's dead. ********************************** Benjamin Starkweather opened his eyes. He felt his own blood and sweat crusted on his face. He tried to move his arms and discovered that they were tied behind his back. His entire body hurt like hell. His eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness, then he realized that he was blindfolded. He did hear the unmistakable sound of a ciagarette lighter. "Who's there!" he yelled out. "A friend," a smarmy voice informed him. "Mr. Starkweather, I have some rather unfortunate news for you... your wife is dead. She was killed, rather unfortunately." Ben felt his heart drop to his shoes. "What happened?" "You shouldn't have left her alone in your apartment last night." Ben bowed his head. "Oh God..." "Mr. Starkweather," CSM told him, "I'm about to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to avenge the death of your wife." "What's that?" "Come work for me..." Back to the Future QL HQ "Thank God, thank God, thank YOU almighty blessed God!" Al crowed. "Um..." Goushie said. "Don't be too thankful... this is just a temporary fix." "TEMPORARY???" Al fumed. "Whaddya mean TEMPORARY!!!" "Well, we've cleaned the virus outta Ziggy, but she's still got bugs, like Mulder being able to see you and Starkweather being able to hear you. Plus there's some other things wrong..." "Like what?" "Like we're running on auxillary power. Like... oh... lots of other little treats the virus left behind. We still could potentially crash... but, on the flip side... there's some good news..." "What's that?" "According to Ziggy, Ben Starkweather doesn't die anymore." "He doesn't!!" Al crowed joyfully. "Then why am I still here?" Doggett asked. "Um... because he's found wandering the street with partial amnesia... three days after Starkweather is killed and six days after Mulder is killed." "Aw... SH*T!!!" Al kicked the wall. "But more good news is, I don't know what Sam did, but he bought us some time. Mulder doesn't die tomorrow like he's supposed but five days from now. That's two more days than what we had originally." "Well, la-di-da," Al said snidely as he lit another cigar. "Do they all think back there that Ben's dead." Doggett asked. "Um..." Goushie squirmed. "Yeah..." Doggett turned to Al. "You promised me to take me to Starkweather. Take me there, now." "Al! We can't do that!!" Goushie said. "We're running on low power, we-" he was silenced by a cutting look from not just Al, but Doggett too. "Okay... but make it quick..." ********************************** Ben and Jeri's apartment 9:17 am Starkweather let herself into the home she shared with Ben. Not even twelve hours ago, they had made up, made love, and made a complete fools of eachother with another fight. Now he was gone. She had declined Sam-in-Doggett's offer to have him stay with her for a bit. She stood there, alone in her living room, looking at the photographs on the wall, their wedding pictures, her graduation pictures, his graduation pictures... happier times. Caesar the cat meowed once, as if to ask where Ben was and leaped off the coffee table, knocking over a small box wrapped in soft pink tissue paper, bound by a silver ribbon. "What did you find, kitty?" she asked as she sat on the couch, reaching for the package. She read on the tiny card attached: "To my big bad FBI broad Love, the Counselor." Gulping back tears, she tore apart the fragile paper and opened the box. "Ohhhh..." she exclaimed, her shoulders slumping as she lifted out a beautiful antique silver locket. With trembling hands, she opened the locket. Her mouth began to work as she saw the tiny picture of her mother holding her when she was a baby, her sweet adoptive mother who had loved her always and forever just as she was, never trying to make her something that she wasn't, who died when she was only sixteen, battling a cancer that destroyed her mind, her memory, her soul. She had told Ben the entire story, even how she overheard a young Fox Mulder badgering her about the possibility of her being a multiple alien abductee right before she descended into madness and death. Ben had only commented. "I wish I could meet her." < Hot tears slid down her face uncontrollably now and in the still loneliness of her apartment, Jerilyn curled up into a ball on her sofa and sobbed like she only did when no one was watching.... Or so she thought. After explaining the rules to Doggett: "No talking, no whispering, no nothing, ZIP," Al took Doggett by the hand and got ready to open the imaging door. "Hey, Admiral, I know we're getting along better than before, but I think hand-holding is a little too soon in our relationship." "Shut up," Al sighed. "I'm not exactly enjoying this either, but I've got to hold onto you somewhere or else you won't be able to see." The door opened. Al re-adjusted, grabbing Doggett by the shoulder instead of his hand. "Let's go." They walked in just as Jerilyn had opened the gift Ben meant to give her last night but never did. Doggett made a move towards her, but Al pulled him back, shaking his head 'no'. They watched as she pulled out a beautiful sterling silver locket, cut and marked with intricate and antique carvings, hanging off of a heavy silver chain. Doggett watched Jerilyn open the locket with shaking hands, watched her clench it tight with one hand while putting the hand in the cast to her eyes as a gut-wrenching sob escaped from her. Al watched Doggett's own eyes tear up as Jerilyn curl up in the fetal position on her sofa, burying her face in the sofa cushions. It hurt both of them to see the diminutive tough little lady so vulnerable and fragile. Doggett reached out to touch her, to stroke her hair and saw in horror his own hand pass through her head as if it was smoke. "Doc, you listen to me now," he said, his gravelly voice shaking. "You hang in there, everything's gonna be fine, I'm still here, I'm still watching your back, Doc,-" Suddenly Starkweather and her apartment were gone and Doggett was in the imagining chamber again. "What happened??" "I cut you off," Al snapped. "I told you, no talking... she'll think she's going insane..." ************************ Meanwhile... At the sound of Doggett's voice, Starkweather had bolted up. She wiped the tears off her face. "Doggett?" she called out. She got off her couch. "Papa John...." she took a quivery breath. "I'm losing it." She went over to her phone and dialled. She got Doggett's voice mail and left a message. "Papa John... it's me... I'm seriously losing my grip on things... maybe I shouldn't be by myself, so whenever you get this message... whenever you get a chance... come get me... I'd appreciate it," her voice cracked again before she hung up. "Bye," she whispered. She went back to her couch. Caesar the cat, very unfeline- like, came up to his mistress and licked the tears off her face. "Good kitty," she whimpered while she began to cry again as she stroked her cat. Sam was numb. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he changed history by trying to stop Leo? Had he set things in motion when he chased that car? Had they spotted him? "Being angry at Mulder isn't going to help anyone...least of all Ben." Sam said, not quite knowing what to say, praying that he would get through to her. Starkweather's eyes were dry. She couldn't cry. It hadn't quite hit her yet...if she could be mad at that idiot Deputy Mayor he wouldn't be *DEAD*. Her anger towards Mulder was emotional energy she didn't have to spend on getting past the numbness of the news she just received. "Ben doesn't need my help anymore, Doggett." She said icily. Then, in a voice that wasn't hers, she finished, "He's gone, and so am I." She locked eyes with Sam for a moment--he saw a familiar combination of Mulder and confusion--then turned on her heel, and marched out, slamming the door behind her. Sam didn't want to leave her alone, but knew that she would probably shut him out if he offered her his company. He wondered if she even heard what she just said to him. "Skinner?" Sam said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "It's Doggett, Sir." Failing his attempt to keep his professional tone. "You alright, John?" "You haven't heard yet?" "Haven't heard what? Had a midnight flight back from New York State, overslept, and I just got into my office this morning, haven't even had a chance to check the newspaper." "You won't have to check the newspapers...I'll tell you what's on the front page right now...the main headline is Deputy Mayor of DC Arrested for Murder." There was a beat of silence. "They found blood in his car, and a wallet." "Belonging to whom." Skinner finally managed to croak out. "Ben Starkweather." "That little shit deserved it." Skinner growled under his breath. "How can they arre--" Sam was way ahead of him. "They've got kids who can testify a body was dumped into the Patomac from a car matching the description of Mulder's within a reasonable time frame from when the blood was left in the trunk." "Since when do they trust the testimony of punk kids?" Skinner growled under his breath, "How's Starkweather holding up?" "She's still in shock." "Mulder came down here...I think to make sure she was alright...and that's when they arrested him. She punched him in the jaw calling him every name in the book." "Doggett, I'll get Kimberly to cancel my morning appointments. I want you up here so we can go over the evidence, and when forensics is through, I want Scully up here. We are going through everything with a fine-toothed comb." The elevator ride up to Skinner's office seemed to last an eternity. He couldn't understand why this was happening *now*...*then*...or whenever it happened to be...time references are all screwed up for time travelers. He didn't wait for Kimberly to announce his presence. She was too busy on the phone, trying to smooth over broken commitments. "Maybe this all wouldn't have happened if I hadn't hired Starkweather." Skinner muttered as soon as Sam closed the door. "Playing what-if games isn't going to help any of us, Sir." Sam said, taking a seat in front of Skinner's desk. "She's proven to be an assett to my division. She was willing to risk her home life for both Mulder and me, and I think she would have had this not happened. I'm afraid *I* am the one to blame for that." "What the hell gave you that idea?" Skinner demanded. "I did some checking," Sam began cautiously, "and an attorney named Justin Leo seemed to have the only solid connection to his case. I went to his residence for questioning, and found substantial evidence that lead me to believe he was planning to murder someone. I tied him up for prevention. On my way home, I happened upon the same dark four-door sedan I saw at the warehouse dumping a body in the Patomac. They might have seen me without my knowledge." "Doggett, that's a lead...it *doesn't* make you responsible for Mulder's arrest. If anything, that may redeem him. There's gotta be something in here. I am not going to sit idly by and watch him be destroyed. Not again." "I happen to know Ben isn't dead." Al's voice came from behind him Sam spun around in his chair. "What do you mean he isn't dead?!" Sam hissed. "What do you mean *who* isn't dead...Doggett...I know you've been under a helluva lot of stress lately..." "Ben...Ben Starkweather isn't dead yet." Sam answered flatly. "How do you know?" "I can't tell you yet." Sam said plainly. "Christ, John, I expect the runaround from Mulder, but not from you." Skinner snapped back. "Jeri's finally starting to loose it, Sam. The whole situation finally dawned on her. I'm gonna go keep an eye on Dana while you guys are busy with this." Al reported "You think the DD is on it?" Skinner asked quietly. "It's hard to say, Sir." Sam said, cautious of who might be listening. Just then, Kimberly popped her head in. "Sir, I didn't want to interrupt, but I couldn't cancel your 11 meeting. It's with the Deputy Director." "Thanks." Then turning to Doggett, "Check back with me if you find anything. That'll be all, Agent." Skinner said crisply, and Sam took his leave. Sam didn't know Starkweather that well...he wanted to be there for her. He was about to head down to his office and get his coat to leave when he found Starkweather's message on Doggett's e-mail. He knew Al was with Scully at the moment, so she wasn't completely alone. He felt better about that. "I can't BELIEVE those DICKS suspected me for two fucking minutes, Doggett." She hissed incredulously. Her eyes were dry but still puffy and red. "Well, speaking from experience here, sometimes our job means pulling at whatever straws are there." Lord knows he had to do that enough times as a time-traveler. "We made up." She admitted softly. "We made up when I came home last night, and then...afterwards...he got a call from some chick with a breathy Russian accent. I know, because I picked up the extension in the bedroom. I went out to confront him about it, telling him I wouldn't let him go by himself; then the fucker used a helluva stall tactic...he actually told me some cockshit theory about that fucker who killed him and me being related. Then," her lips began to quiver now, "I let him go." Then her body started to quake with sobs again, and Sam didn't resist the impulse this time to pull her close to him, letting her go. "Just let it go, Jerilyn..." "Goddammit..." she said, shouting now, "the worst part about this whole fucking thing is that I was going to get out of the x-files after this case. He didn't want me to be in the FBI because he didn't want me to die on the job...I didn't think for one minute that I would be the one to outlive him." "I know...I know..." Sam said softly. He wanted more than anything to tell her he wasn't dead yet, but knew she just needed him to be solid and strong. Bringing someone back from the grave isn't exactly the best way to show someone you're stable. He stayed with her for a few more hours until she sobbed herself to sleep, just letting her cry. He decided to check on her again in a few hours, but now, he needed to go over to Scully's. He needed her professional opinion as much as he needed to know she was alright. Scully didn't look as though she had spent any fresh tears at all when Sam came to her door. Al was still waiting for him there. "You look like hell, Sam." Al commented. "Just help yourself to some coffee, Doggett," Scully was saying, picking Will up from his high-chair. "Take a seat on the couch for a sec, I gotta put Will down for his nap." "How did Ziggy find out that Ben's not dead?" "I dunno, Sam, you musta changed history somehow, because the police reports change. Somehow, the body dumped in the river was discovered not to be Ben's." "I tied up Leo, Al. He looked like he was getting ready to do something, and I tied him up. I interviewed some kids, and they said they saw the same sedan that we saw in the warehouse drive up to Leo's house, and then on my way home, I saw the sedan dump a body into the river." "So all we gotta do is find out where Ben is, and we're homefree!" Al exclaimed, tapping a few keys on the handlink. "I think Scully's coming, since we've got bugs in the system still, I better vamoos. Be careful." "How's Starkweather handling all of this?" Scully asked as she came through the hall. She had a look of complete confusion on her face. "I think I need to talk to more adults besides Mulder...I'm hearing voices..." "Starkweather's as well as to be suspected." Sam said releasing a heavy sigh as he handed her the photocopies. "I brought you the police reports, thought you might wanna look them over." "I want to do the autopsy on the body they found." Scully said, perusing the papers. "90 % of the body is burned, Scully." "I know...I still want to do the autopsy." She persisted. "The coroner has already performed the official autopsy...there's nothing we can do about that at this point." "Don't give me that, Doggett. We've gotta do something. I can't put "my finger on it, but something about this report doesn't mesh." "We'll find it, then we can go after the people who did this." "Doggett...I hate to bring this up in your face," Scully said coldly, "but the last time you said something like that was not long before Mulder's funeral. Don't make me promises you damn well know you can't keep." She looked around, wishing she had a glass of water to splash in his face. "Scully, I--" Sam said in a pained tone, but didn't know how else to finish to make her believe he fully intended to keep that promise. "I'm sorry. Doggett..." She apologized, "I didn't mean that...I just..." "Yes, you did." Sam said plainly. "Just what?" "Just forget it, alright..." She proceeded to pick up baby toys that were lying in the floor. "No, look..it's ok...I know you're angry...so am I. Finish what you started." Scully couldn't even face Doggett. "I can't let him down again." She pretended to be cleaning the kitchen as she spoke. "What do you mean, 'let him down'?" "I let Mulder down once, and it cost him his life...if it wasn't for Will being on the way, I think it would have destroyed me. I don't know what would happen if I watched him be destoryed again. I'm worried for Will." "I know, but I can't help but see that there's something else more at stake here." He wasn't lying. Sam knew there was a lot more at stake with Mulder's arrest. "Doggett...you don't understand..." "You're right...I don't...enlighten me." "Mulder is one of the most aggravating people I've ever met." "I know..." "He is a jack-ass about 60% of the time." "That's not exactly what I'd call new information." Sam said wryly. Scully smiled sheepishly. "I joined the x-files office eight years ago not really sure what to expect of "Spooky" Mulder. I spent the greater part of my eight years with him making a point of proving him wrong. Somewhere along the way, between the freaks of nature and aliens and things that go bump in the night we investigated, I realized that his quest had become mine...and if we found the truth, that's all I needed to make my life meaningful." She hesitated and let out a ragged sigh, "Then he gave me Will...something I never in my wildest dreams thought I could have...and meaning and fulfillment I never thought possible." She buried her face in her hands, and her body finally started to allow her to sob. "God, Doggett...I don't know what I'm gonna do if he looses his freedom. I don't want Will to grow up without his Dad." "You will keep plugging away at the Truth he started," Sam began cautiously, placing an assuring hand on her shoulder. "But I don't think that'll be necessary. I've got lots of outside help working around the clock on this. I *am* keeping this promise to you, Scully. I'm going to do all I can to make sure nothing happens to him. So are a lot of other people." With that, he decided to take his leave and check on Starkweather. Meanwhile... back at the warehouse... "Work for you?" Ben was completely confused. "Work how?" "There are governmental forces at hand working on a grand scale conspiracy. Your wife unwittingly played a small part in it and was eliminated for her efforts." "The phone call... the note..." Ben said slowly. "It was all a ruse to get me out of the house last night, wasn't it?" "I'm afraid so. Mr. Starkweather," CSM placed a cigarette in Ben's mouth and lit it. Ben inhaled gratefully. CSM took the cigarette out of his mouth and Ben exhaled, blowing great plumes of smoke. "I am a powerful man. I can stop what our government is doing." "What are they doing?" "Killing people who get in their way. People like your wife." "What was she doing that she had to be killed?" Ben felt his heart being torn to shreds. "She went to work for the X-Files," CSM said gently, puffing on the cigarette he lit for Ben. Ben hung his head. "I don't believe you," he admitted slowly. "Understandable. But let me tell you this, the people who killed your wife are coming after you. We had to stage your little kidnapping to throw dust in their eyes. You'll accept my apologies, won't you?" "Kind of hard to accept your apology while I'm still tied up like a prisoner." "Of course," CSM took off the blindfold. "Your feet aren't bound, follow me." Ben, followed the Cancer Man towards a fairly large, unused restroom. CSM turned on the light, nearly blinding him. Ben saw a small cot, a smaller table with a pitcher of water, a glass, a pack of cigarettes, matches and a plate of sandwiches and fruit. There was a skanky looking toilet in the corner and a rusted out sink. "I do apologize for the accommodations, CSM said. "But you need to stay here for a while for your own safety until we deal with the men who murdered your wife." He gently pushed Ben inside. "How do I even know you're telling me the truth about Jerilyn?" he demanded as the CSM untied his hands. "I'll bring you proof then," CSM said before hitting him hard o the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. He left Ben's new cell and shut the door tight, locking it. He turned to Covarubias who had been watching the entire time, holding a loaded gun. "Keeping alive is dangerous," she seethed. He glared at her. "He has information about the oil rig, information we need. Plus, if he decides to join us... he could be useful. The Admiral said he was a bright boy. And if not... we'll dispose of him once Mulder and Starkweather are eliminated." He approached Covarubias and took her gun away from her. Cupping her narrow chin in his free hand, he said, "You and Krycek should have never tried to trifle with me. Krycek paid the ultimate price... you... have a chance to redeem yourself." He walked away, saying "No one touches Ben Starkweather without my express permission." Marita Covarubias glared at him, hatred simmering in her steel-blue eyes.