Starkweather Quanta cowritten with Scully3776

by Spookykat

A time traveler swaps souls with Doggett to stop a lawyer from being killed. Sequel to Future Past Perfect and Starkweather: Introitus on Gossamer, but reading those fics is not necessary to understand this story.

4. Into the Fire

"That explains a whole damn lot. No wonder the b*stard got

jumpy when we wanted to investigate." Mulder growled, his

voice growing steadily louder. "Dammit...I can't BELIEVE I

was fired over a STUPID CONFLICT OF INTEREST!" He said,

banging his head in slow repetative motion on the top of

Langly's computer.

"Not too hard, buddy, you'll break the equipment." Langly

nasalled.

Halfway down the list earning nearly 2 million in dividends

every year in stock of a certain oil company based in the

Gulf of Mexico was Deputy Director Kersh.

Sam whipped out his cell phone.

"Who are you calling?" Mulder asked from his station.

"The Ghostbusters." Sam deadpanned. "I'm calling

Starkweather. She needs to know about this mess before she

goes to work in the morning." He hit the last button on

Doggett's cell-phone, figuring that was the last person he

would have added to the list.

"Doggett, what early bird bit *your* wormy ass at this

hour? God! The grass isn't even up yet."

"Look, I'm sorry about the hour, but we've been digging all

night, and there's something you should know about before

you leave for the office."

"I'll bring the doughnuts."

"Kersh is in on it."

"Fuckin' A!" Starkweather murmured, bolting upright. "How?"

"I'll explain later...Scully'll pick you up for breakfast,

in a couple of hours and we'll discuss what we'll do then."

Starkweather hung up the phone, and sat still on the bed,

half-heartedly praying that this whole night was nothing

more than a bad dream. Needing to clear her head, she

decided to plait her hair in braids and change into more

suitable clothes for jogging.

"Ben?" She called out, timidly opening the bedroom door.

"Hey listen I--" She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw

that the couch hadn't been slept on, and Ben was nowhere to

be found.

"Sonuvabitch musta gotten a hotel room." She growled. "I

hope the clerk didn't speak fucking English and the people

next door were having REALLY loud sex ALL night long." She

ranted, forgetting the hour. She got a bottle of water,

then went back for an extra one. She was going to need to

run across the country to clear her head of last nights

disasters...but she would have to settle for as long as

rush hour traffic would allow her.

Back at the TLG lair, Sam hung up the phone. "She took that

well." Sam chagrinned.

"Mulder, you wanna call Scully?"

"Wait to call Scully for another hour, Doggett, unless you

wanna face her wrath. She'd kill both of us if we woke up

Will."

Deciding he was right, Sam resigned himself to try and find

any connections he could with the oil company and the

AFB's.

an hour later...

"Boys, we're not getting anywhere on this." Mulder sighed

defeatedly, glancing at his watch. "We might as well give

it a rest for a while."

"Mulder, you think the caller would be likely to use the

payphone again any time soon?" Sam asked, downing a gulp of

coffee. If I'm even thinking of volunteering for this,

that has got to be a sure sign of psychosis due to sleep

deprivation. He thought, hoping silently that Mulder

wouldn't think the caller would be back.

"They could be." Mulder said quietly after a moment of

thoughtful silence. "It's a big possibility--especially

with the trial coming up." For the first time that night,

Mulder seemed hopeful.

The gunmen all exchanged tortured glances, and then

silently made the decision for Byers to relay it.

"What if we did a stakeout of that payphone corner?"

"We could at least get a handle on who's making the calls,

and get our first solid link. I think that could be just

what you need, Mulder." Frohike agreed.

"Just bring us some supplies, ok?" Langley nasalled.

"Thanks boys, I really appreciate this" Mulder said, and

then looking down, evaluating his appearance, he realized

he needed something else. "...but what I really need right

now is a shower and a shave and a change. I gotta be at

work in a few hours."

"Yeah, me too." With that, Sam and Mulder left the

warehouse, minds buzzing from too much caffeine and a

sleepless night.

"You coming to our breakfast meeting, Mulder?" Sam asked,

glad to be seeing the light of day and back in his own

house. It wasn't that he didn't like the boys, he just

didn't like walking on eggshells constantly.

"Yeah, I'll bring Scully with me. Maybe if we put our heads

together, we can come up with something." Something in his

tone sounded almost sad and defeated.

***********************************************************

Georgetown, Scully's Apt.

7:52 am

"Mulder..." Scully scolded, "God, you look awful. You would

think you were the one up with Will half the night." She

said, handing the baby over to Mulder. "You were supposed

to be here twenty minutes ago."

"Morning, Sunshine." He smirked. Mulder gave her an

apologetic smile and sat down at the breakfast table in her

kitchen, and began absently bouncing the baby on his lap,

who still had processed plums all over him. "The boys and

me were up late doing some digging."

"Will's developed a new sport, haven't you sweetheart?"

Scully said in her Motherese voice, bending next to Mulder

to wipe the purple babyfood off Will's chubby face, hands,

and legs. "It's called Babyfood Toss. The one who gets the

most all over Mommy's favorite blazer wins. Extra points

for Mommy's hair." Then, in her professional voice, she

turned to Mulder. "What did you find?

"Kersh is in on it. We're meeting Starkweather and Doggett

over breakfast to discuss a gameplan in about an hour."

"You have *got* to be kidding."

"He gets cushy dividends with that oil company in the Gulf,

along with a few other top military officials."

"You have *got* to be kidding."

Mulder shook his head, stood up, and scooped the baby up

with him, and held him over his head, sending the toddler

giggling. "I don't kid about the x-files." Then he put Will

down in his walker, and sat back down at the breakfast

table, raking his hands through his hair. "God, Scully,

this is *my* fault...I'm sorry for all this..."

"All what, Mulder? What's *your* fault?" Scully asked

softly, and sat across from him, every now and then

steeling a glance over at Will.

"If I hadn't been abducted, none of..." he broke off, not

being able to finish the sentence.

"That's not your fault, Mulder. You can't blame yourself

for what happened. To this day, I think Skinner still feels

guilty about what happened to you..."

She cautiously took her hand in his, he was trembling with

emotions he wasn't quite sure how to define. Scully moved

next to him now, wrapping herself around his shaking form

in the chair, firmly squeezing his hand.

"Oh God, Scully," he choked, startled and chastising

himself for breaking down in her kitchen. "I'm sorry..."

"While you were gone, I tried to do our job like you

did...and I couldn't...and I blamed myself for that...but

when Will came, I realized that what happened is nobody's

fault except the monsters that took you."

"You really think they're gonna shut down the x-files this

time?" He asked, walking over to the baby, and lifting him

out of his walker.

"They've shut us down before. Someone told me once to never

give up on a miracle. We'll get to the bottom of this, and

go back to chasing little green men before you know it."

"They're gray." He deadpanned, and waited with the baby

till she got her business suit changed and her hair

rewashed.

Back to the Future

QLHQ

Al leaned forward, anticipating Doggett's answer, not

really sure what to expect. He just hoped it wouldn't be

mushy.

Doggett's fists clenched up. His gaze got chilly again.

"Starkweather is a great gal," Doggett said. "I admire her,

I respect her. I like her. Not that junior high "do you

like me or you like-LIKE me" crap. I enjoy working with

her, I enjoy talking to her, I enjoy her company. You are

right about her marriage going down the drain. That's what

we talked about the night she stayed late at my apartment.

She needed to vent. The reason why she didn't tell Ben what

we talked about is because she mainly referred to him as

'asshole' the entire time we talked."

"Funny," Al said, "she had no problem telling THAT to his

face tonight."

"She's thinking about going to a lawyer," Doggett

confessed. "She's thinking about getting papers drawn up.

And how good is that gonna look, huh? Starkweather just

blurting out 'Well, Ben, the reason why I came home so late

is because I spent the night weighing the pros and cons of

divorcing you with the man you think I'm screwin' on the

side.' She was thinking divorce long before I was in the

picture. She almost divorced him after her miscarriage-"

"Miscarriage?" Al asked. "What miscarriage?"

Feeling like a traitor, Doggett said, "It ain't really my

story to tell. I thought you already knew, since you seem

to know so much anyway... about a year ago, the

Starkweathers got pregnant and when she was shopping with

her mother-in-law, Starkweather started to bleed heavily

and ended up losing her baby in a mall's bathroom.

According to Starkweather, Ben was wonderful, supportive,

so on and so forth. But when they fight, he likes to point

out that if she wasn't so career and goal orientated, they

might not have lost that baby. He's always apologetic of

course... but..." Doggett didn't go on, for the rest of

what Starkweather said that night was none of Al's

business.

A few days before Sam's leap into Doggett

Doggett's apartment

Washington DC

1:35 AM Eastern Standard Time

"But wow... when he's pissed and it's in the heat of the

fucking moment," Starkweather said, sitting next to Doggett

on the stairs leading up to Doggett's modest patio in back

of his apartment. She shook her head, finished off the last

sip of warm Bud Light, then reached behind her for another

frosty bottle. She gestured to Doggett, holding the beer

with her good hand, holding up her useless broken wrist in

the air. Doggett popped the top for her. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"You know, it doesn't help ME get over the miscarriage when

it's constantly rubbed in my face that it's my fault," she

said bitterly.

"You know it's not your fault."

"I know that intellectually, but in my heart... I don't

know, Doggett. I mean... I wasn't ready for kids, I'm still

not so I guess it's a blessing in disguise. But, my God,

Doggett," there was real hurt in her smokey voice. "I heard

it's heart beat. I had just been to the doctor a few days

before and I listened to the heartbeat and I started to get

excited and maternal. I started daydreaming if it'd be a

boy or a girl, if it'd look like me or Ben. I started

picking out baby names. I called Linda-" her mother-in-law

"-and asked her if she wanted to come with me to pick out a

crib, maybe look at baby toys. Two days later, I'm waking

up in ICU in critical condition because I nearly bled out.

I know Ben wanted that baby more than I did... but that was

only at first. I was just scared and overwhelmed and panic-

stricken and constantly nauseous and in total denial. I

just didn't believe that this was happening to me. I was on

the Pill. We were careful. I freaked. I was like, "I'm not

ready for this." But then I listened to the heartbeat and I

thought "Yes I am. I am so ready for this." But it wasn't

meant to be, so I guess I'm really not. Wait, I KNOW I'm

not. I can't handle the idea of putting my career on hold

again to start a family and I REALLY can't handle losing

another baby if Ben and I would start a family. Once is

enough. You know?"

Doggett had been silent throughout Starkweather's entire

speech, nodded. "Yeah, I do," he thought. "My ex-wife

wanted to try for another baby after we lost Luke...

but..." he shook his head. "I couldn't. I didn't wanna have

a kid just replace Luke, like he was the family dog who we

put to sleep and we went and got a new puppy the very next

day. But I didn't understand my wife's need to have mor

children. She didn't see it as replacing Luke. She saw it

as mourning and honoring out son and getting on with our

lives. Eventually, after a long, messy divorce, she found

someone else and last time I talked to her, she has had two

little girls with him."

The agents sat in a comfortable silence sipping beer;

listening to the sounds of a city alive at night in the dog

days of August. "Was it really bad?" Starkweather asked

after a bit, in a small voice.

"What? The divorce?" Doggett asked, reaching for another

beer. Starkweather nodded her head. "Yeah," he said in his

typical honesty tempered by a soft Georgia drawl. "It was

bad. The last time my wife and I talked, wasn't exactly

civil."

"Hm," Starkweather drew her knees to her chest and wrapped

her arms around herself. "I wonder if Ben would contest."

"You're talkin' as if it's a done deal, like you've got

your mind made up."

Oh, Christ Almighty Papa John," Starkweather groaned. "You

know what a wuss I'm being about this. One minute I'm all

'That motherfucker' but the next I'm all 'I love him!!' I

don't know what the hell is going on. He whines about me

never being home, but gee, I get bitchslapped by

shapeshifting boogeyman and the Skin-man grants me a month

of leave and Ben's gone at the office most of the time. You

don't know how excited I was to come over and play cards

tonight. I was to the point I was almost happy to see the

Deputy Mayor."

"Almost," Doggett grinned, ever conscious of the feud

between Mulder and Starkweather and yet amused by the

amazing (almost creepy) similarities between the two.

"Almost," Starkweather said, rolling her eyes. "Not quite."

"Well, it's an improvement," Doggett mollified her, not

realizing the shitstorm that was going to erupt in a few

days when Sam would leap into his body and he would be

trying to escape the Quantum Leap compound while Sam would

helplessly watch the mother of fights between Starkweather

and Mulder.

"I suppose," Starkweather said, also not a seer of the

future, "he'd alright if he wasn't so goddamn arrogant and

condescending."

"Look who's talking!"

"Doggett," Starkweather deadpanned, fluttering her lashes

dramatically. "I DO NOT condescend."

"Uh huh."

"Plus I kind of have to be nice to him now since he saved

my ass." A sentiment she would throw out the window the

minute Mulder stormed into the X-Files office accusing her

of setting him up.

"How diplomatic."

"I can be when I feel like it," she said airily, tossing

her long hair like a proud pony. "I just wish I could find

the right words to make things right with Ben... even if

making things right means cutting him loose." She groaned.

"This is terrible. I'm talking about dumping my husband

while he's working his fingers to the bone at the office

trying to secure some big high dollar law suit so we won't

be so fucking broke. We got into a spat earlier tonight

because he calls and tells me that this weekend we're

supposed to go out with a bunch of his new friends from the

law firm and their wives. He calls me as I'm doing bills

and the money prognosis is not good right now. We blew our

savings moving here. We quibble whether or not we can

afford to go out to dinner, even though it's just going to

beer and hot dogs at Hooters-"

Doggett interrupted her. "Hooters?" he said in disbelief.

Starkweather shrugged. "Retarded, isn't it." She looked up

at the few stars brilliant enough to outshine the street

lights. "But that's where his friends go after work, so...

and even though money is really tight, especially with me

not working at the moment... I gave in. And I hate myself

for it." She sighed. "God, this sucks. I don't know what to

do, Papa John." She rested her head on her knees, turning

her china doll face to look at him, her hazel eyes turning

into a deeper golden brown color, shaded by her turmoil.

"Don't look at me!" Doggett said "I don't got the answers,"

as he reached over and patted his partner's arm

companionably.

"I know," she said miserably, reaching over with her broken

wrist and resting her fingertips on his hand, which he left

on her arm. "But at least you aren't pulling any fake

'it's-gonna-be-alright' bullshit answers out of your ass."

"You know I won't lie to you," Doggett said seriously,

slipping his hand from out under Starkweather's to push a

lock of her hair out of her eyes. He hated talking to women

with hair in their eyes. "I'd love to tell you that it IS

gonna be alright, but we both know that's a load of BS.

Just know that I've got your back no matter which way you

choose, whether you're gonna stay with 'Mrs. Starkweather'

or if you're going to go back to 'Dr. Bailey.'"

Starkweather grinned. "Oh, no matter what happens, I'm

going to stick with 'Agent Starkweather'," she said. "It

sounds so much more bad-ass that 'Agent Bailey.'" She stood

up and stood in front of Doggett. "I better get going...

it's way late..." she unexpectedly kissed Doggett on the

top of his head. "Thanks for being such a decent human

being."

"Doc, I do believe you're tanked."

"Naaaahh," she said, weaving just a bit. "Wha' makes you

shay that?"

"The fact that you just slurred that entire sentence.

C'mon," he said, ever the gentlemen, taking her small,

calloused hand into his, touching nothing else. "You're

drunk, I'm getting drunk, neither one of us is in any shape

to drive you home, the bugs are gettin' bad, come on in and

I'll make you some coffee."

"You know," Starkweather said as Doggett lead her up the

stairs and inside his apartment. "If we keep up with all

this hand holding mushy sh*t, people at the Bureau might

start saying we're the next Mulder and Scully."

"Oh God," Doggett groaned. "I need that like a hole in my

head."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Starkweather said with an

impish grin. "I'm sure you get laid a whole lot more than

Mulder ever did."

"A lady never uses vulgar language, Mrs. Starkweather."

"Pbbsssst," Starkweather blew a raspberry at him. "Since

when have I been a lady?" But she still held his hand.

They stood in the door frame, being sucking on by little

vampiric mosquitoes, close enough to kiss.

Doggett and Starkweather stood there for a bit, like

teenagers loathing to call a night to a close, but

realizing that they had curfews to meet. Still holding his

hand, Starkweather walked up to Doggett and rested her head

on his chest. Doggett, feeling a bit awkward, stroked her

pretty hair with his free hand, resting his cheek against

her head, saying nothing, just being a friend. But she

lingered a little longer than a friend would have normally,

still holding his other hand, interlocking her fingers with

his, squeezing. Starkweather then looked up at Doggett, and

pushed him away. Maybe she heard his heart beating, maybe

she heard his breath catch in his throat, but something

scared her a little, because Doggett noticed she was

trembling and wide-eyed like the proverbial deer in the

headlight. "Look," she said "you're drunk, I'm drunk plus

I'm depressed and not really in a state of mind to make

rational decisions and it's not like... I mean... aw hell,

Doggett, things are fucked up as is. I don't want it to get

weird." She paused, and grinned. "Damn weird." she mocked

him gently.

He laughed. "Jiminy Christmas," now he teased her, using

her tamest expletive. "Relax. It's not going to get weird,

Mrs. Starkweather." Doggett, holding her good hand, the

left hand, lifted it up and pecked it like a gentlemen. He

examined the diamond solitaire glistening on the pinkie

finger. "Wrong finger, Doc," he said.

"I can't get it on the correct finger at the moment,"

Starkweather said. "How about that coffee," she said,

customary smirk on her face, walking inside, crisis past...

Back at QLHQ

As Doggett glared at Al, he thought **How am I supposed to

explain that when I don't even understand what the hell

happened myself?**

9:05 AM

FBI Headquarters

Deputy Director Kersh's office

********************************

"Assistant Director, you should be commended." Kersh began

coolly. "With the exception of a few incidents regarding

Agents Mulder, Scully, and Doggett, your work record is

spotless."

"So for all my efforts, I should be getting stocked up on

suntan and flamingos, and expect my company watch in the

mail?" Skinner glowered. It wasn't in his character to snap

at his superiors, but then again, it wasn't in his

character to give up on what was right, either. After all

that he had been through for the x-files office, after all

everyone involved had sacrificed for the Truth, he couldn't

just walk away. He owed Mulder that much.

"For all your efforts, I was going to say that you should

be very proud of what you have done, Assistant Director.

You seem to have a win-win situation on your hands, A.D.

Skinner."

Skinner clinched his jaw, not wanting to hear his options

out. "What do I win-win here, sir?"

"Allow Agents Doggett and the Deputy Mayor to testify on

behalf of the Bureau and close their investigations into

this matter, and rest easy with a tidy pention. It will be

not only good publicity for the FBI, but it will exhonorate

the Deputy Mayor. You would be a damn fool not to cooperate

with me on this one, A.D. We all get what we want here.

Before you make your decision, I have already allowed

litigations to be carried out on the matter. Fox Mulder and

John Doggett both have subpoenas, as well as Dana Scully

and Jerilyn Starkweather."

"Sir," Skinner almost-growled, trying hard to keep his

voice controlled and steady, "if those agents testify, then

you may very well loose any chance you ever had of

recovering any of the injustices that had transpired on

that oil rig."

"Then that is a risk we will have to take." Kersh said, standing now behind his desk. "Those testimonies very well

may bring light on the truth. I am trying to do what is

best for the FBI here. Frankly, we need good publicity

right now with all that's happened around here lately. If

the country knows how dedicated its top agents are, it just

may do the trick."

"Don't think I'll be bribed to leave my position, sir."

Skinner said, standing up now and almost shouting. "I

cannot sell out to the people under me."

"That will be all, A.D." Kersh said crisply, and Skinner

stormed out.

Skinner wasn't back from the meeting for five minutes

before the phone rang.

"Skin--" Mulder was saying, but Skinner broke him off.

"Mulder if you start that Skin-man crap with me today you

would rather have your face ripped off again." He growled,

throwing his glasses down, clinching his jaw and raking the

tip of his fingers up and down his sinuses.

"We've got a situation on our hands here, Sir. Scully's

left to get Starkweather, and Doggett's on his way over. I

don't wanna say over FBI phones what it is." Mulder said on

the other end of the line, hoping that the clank-crash he

just heard wasn't an irreparable disaster.

"You don't know the half of it." Skinner growled.

"Everything alright on your end?

"Yeah, I'm babysitting at Scully's right now...that kid is

superhuman, right, Sir?"

"Cut the "sir" crap, Mulder...you're not working for me

anymore..."

"How soon can you get over here?" He said, frantically

trying to conceal the dent in the plaster of Scully's

kitchen wall that Will's walker had just made with duct

tape. Will, still in his walker, was gurgling and clapping

his hands.

"I'll be over there in about half an hour." He hung up and

told Kimberly to hold all his calls and that he'd be gone

for an undisclosed amount of time. "If Kersh calls for me,

tell him to go to hell." He said in all seriousness, and

stormed out to the FBI parking lot.

Washington, D.C.

Le Pane Cafe (A French Cafe in Downtown Washington)

9:13 AM

******************

Only if you were people-watching would you notice the two

elderly men sitting at one of the tables in the back of the

cafe.

"I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for all this."

One of the men said, swatting at freshly puffed smoke blown

carelessly in his face. "My little Jerri can finally have

all she deserves. My wifes' last memory should not have

been--" the man's broken voice trailed off, emotionally

unable to form the words to complete it.

"I should be grateful to you, Admiral." Said the other man

in a callous, steady voice, taking another puff of his

Morley. "All my work has come to this. He has served his

purpose for us, and it is too dangerous for him to

continue. Who knows who else's lives he's destroyed.

Justice can finally be done, thanks to your help. You will

be remembered for this. I will see that Agent Starkweather

gets all you've ever wanted for her."

"My son-in-law will see to that."

"I have no doubt that he takes care of her, but he may

prevent us from finishing our task if his investigations

are fruitfull in this matter in the Gulf. We cannot fail

this time, Admiral. Your daughter depends upon it." He

absently took another puff of his cigarette.

"What do you need me to do?

"All I need you to do for her to get that is to set a

trap."

"What kind of a trap?"

"A foxtrap."

"It will be done."

"For your little girl's sake, I hope so." The old man put

out his cigarette and walked out, as if nothing was

discussed.

*****************************************************

9:07 AM

In Scully's car on the way back to her apartment

*************************************************

Starkweather and Scully sat in silence for a while. It

wasn't that they didn't feel like talking...just that the

radio was the only thing keeping Scully from falling asleep

at the wheel.

The Monkees were blaring over the airwaves at fullblast.

I thought love was only true in fairytales

Meant for someone else but not for me

love was out to get me

that's the way it ....

...the signal wavered out for a couple of lines as they

passed under a bridge...

Now I'm a believer

Not a trace

of doubt in my mind

Starkweather, needing either music to be pissed-off by or

to scream, abruptly cut the radio off.

"Something up Starkweather?" Scully asked, after a few

minutes of awkward silence.

"Ben and I had a knock-down drag-out last night. He got a

hotel."

"What about?"

"I don't even know anymore." She confided. "I tried to talk

him out of prosecuting the oil company case, and he made it

crystal clear that he doesn't want me in the FBI anymore."

"Is that what *you* want?" Scully implored her, glancing at

her as soon as traffic allowed.

"I want to make this marriage work. Love is such a godaamn

bitch!"

"For what it's worth, Starkweather, you're an asset to this

office. I don't know if we would've found the connection

with Kersh without your digging around the AFB's. And don't

let what Mulder said yesterday get to you, either. He may

be an arrogant shithead sometimes, but his heart's in the

right place. Besides, I told him if he starts anything with

you at this meeting he would opt to go back with the

aliens. So you'll call a truce?"

Starkweather cracked a small smile. "Only if you help me

come up with a new nickname for him."

"I think that can be arranged." She said with a wan smile.

They erupted into peels of giggling like two high school

girls as Scully pulled into the parking lot of her

apartment complex.

Meanwhile

Back at the QLHQ that morning

Al came in, so proud of his new suit, an obnoixious

metallic maroon zoot-suit, with a relatively sober black

dress blouse and a skinny matching "Regis" metallic black

tie. Goushie looked up. "Geez, Al, don't stand in direct

sunlight, you'll blind everyone."

"HA. HA." Al grumbled, not a morning person. "How's Ziggy?"

"Well..." Goushie hedged. "We still working on the error

that's allowing Mulder and Starkweather to see you."

"Starkweather can't see me," Al wearily reminded him. "Just

hear."

"Um... not yet..."

"What?"

"Um..." Now Goushie cringed. "We think we've picked up a

computer virus somewhere and it's mutating. We've got some

other programs that are going absolutely haywire right now,

but as of right now, nothing that will directly affect

Sam's leap," he rushed on, eager to reassure Al.

"Unless something else goes caca and poof, here I am in

front of that wildcat. This is a secure building, Goushie"

Al growled. "Only certain people have access to the

Internet and our Intranet. How did a virus get into our

systems?"

"Um, we think one of the boys from Marine Security Forces

disabled the security lock-out so he can surf the World

Wide Web for porn," Goushie was now visibly sweating.

"We've got it nailed down to three suspects right now,

they're in lock up."

"Oh that's just great. Terrific. Marvelous. Marines... the

Few, the Proud, the Horny," Al ranted. "How's Sam doing?"

he asked him.

"Not good," Goushie, through Ziggy, was able to monitor

Sam's vital stats through every leap. "His blood pressure

is higher than I've ever seen on any other leap. Heart

rhythms going batsy too."

"Whaddya mean?" Al asked. "Does Agent Rabid Dog's body have

a heart condition that we don't know about?"

"No," Goushie was quick to assure him. "When Agent Doggett

is in Agent Doggett's body, he takes very good care of

himself. He eats like a pig, but he runs it all off. He was

up at the butt crack of dawn, doing calthestinics."

"Goody for him," Al said sourly. He too saw dawn's early

light, but that was when he was going home for a shower and

a short nap. "What about Sam?"

"Sam's in a state of hyped up adrenline. Too much sugar,

too much caffeine, too much stress. And this is only one

day. He's going to burn out fast if he doesn't get some

down time."

"Time???" Al groaned. "Goushie, we don't GOT time, you know

that!! We are literally," Al looked at his watch "hours

away from Benny boy from being lifted. Ziggy's sick with a

virus, all I got about the Missus Starkweather from Doggett

was a whole lot of nothin'. Sam's out there, twisting in

the wind..." a horrible thought crossed Al's mind.

"Goushie, this virus is nowhere near the mainframe or the

power grid... is it?"

"That's the other thing I've got to tell you..." Goushie

said timidly. "We may have to shut down Ziggy for a few

hours to-"

"NO!" Al thundered at the poor scientist. "We CAN NOT shut

down, we CAN NOT leave Sam back there on his own!"

"What happens if we crash out completely?" Goushie fired

back. "What if this virus gets into the modems of the Crays

and we go down for days??? Weeks? Sam could leap and we

would lose precious time trying to find him. We may never

find him. He'd be good as dead."

Al's normally jovial face looked puckered and drawn. He

pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it, chewing

it ferociously.

"Look," Goushie said tiredly. "Shutting down is our last

resort. The techs are on it right now, trying to

reconfigure the coding, to contain the virus so it doesn't

spread. They've already got the firewalls built. So far

except for the hologram glitch, Ziggy is virtually

untouched, knock on wood. The only problem for Ziggy that

this virus is causing is that it will not let us de-

configure your brainwaves from Mulder's and sub

consequentially Starkweather's. As of this moment, it is a

issue, but a controlled one. The problem is what could

happen if we don't figure out how to wipe that little

bugger out of Ziggy. This virus has also gotten into a few

office computers and wreaked hell. The techs are using

those as cadavers if you will to figure out how the hell to

stop this thing if the virus reconforms, figures out how to

bypass the firewalls and start to take a trip down Ziggy's

Memory Lanes. If we shut Ziggy down, it would be for five,

six hours max to do a diagnostic and maybe, if worse comes

to worse, put a new motherboard in her main modem, reboot,

reinstall the Quantum Leap programming and bring her back

up at the bare mimimum of capacity until we get her other

systems powered up and operational. The holding chamber is

on a completely different driver than Ziggy. That does not

need to power down. If for some reason, Sam leaps, we've

got power to support the leap. The problem is we won't be

able to track him for at least a day. The tracking

capabilities are tied to the holographic imagining chamber

which is directly tied to Ziggy. If Ziggy gets completely

infected and goes down..."

"Sam goes down too," Al muttered. "Alright, Goush. Do what

you gotta do, but WARN me if and when you gotta tuck the

old girl in for a nap. Sam should be aware that he might be

swimming alone for a few hours."

If it happens, it will happen in approximately 72 hours."

Goushie said. "If... and Al, please, remember, this is a

BIG if, if it needs to happen, we've scheduled it to be

offline at night."

"At night!" Al groaned, shuffling towards the imagining

chamber. "Goush, buddy, this is an X-File, all the good

stuff happens at night. Ziggy!" he called out. "Sorry

you're not feeling well honey, but I need to see Sam right

away...."

Doggett Residence

Georgetown, VA

7:51 AM

*******************

Sam was not doing well. His heart was beating at an

unnaturally fast pace, and his medical training told him

that he couldn't live like this much longer without going

into cardiac arrest. If he couldn't get to Ben Starkweather

in time, who knows how long he would be in that state?

Al was waiting for him in Doggett's house after his long

night with the Gunmen.

"How's it going Sam?"

"Besides being in a constant state of hypertention, fine."

"I know, pal. Just hang in there, we'll getchya through

this. Doggett's calmed down back there, but one of the

stupid marines got Ziggy a virus. We may need to shut

down."

"They can't shut Ziggy down! Al," Sam was panicking, "Ben

gets killed by the end of today if I can't--they can't--"

Sam felt his head spinning.

"Calm down, Sam. It's only a possibility right now, we've

got all the personnel we have on this one, making sure that

doesn't happen. You, Spooky, and the three stooges find

anything last night?"

"Kersh is in on it."

"Why am I not surprised." Al said, and took a puff of his

cigar.

"I'm due over at Scully's in a little while with everyone

to come up with a gameplan. Can you nail an exact time for

Ben's death?"

"Coroners placed the time of death between 4 and 4:30 am

tonight."

"So, all I need to do is find a way to prove the connection

between Kersh and the oil company before the end of the

day. Any ideas?"

"I'll go and talk to Doggett back there, see if he can say

anything. Figure out what you can from the A.D. and I'll

pool my resources to see what we can dig up."

"Remember, hang in there. We'll do what we can to get you

outta here as fast as possible." said Al, trying to be

optimistic, and opened the chamber door.

Sam got a shower and changed clothes, and left for Scully's

apartment.

*****************************************************

Scully's Apt.

Georgetown, VA

9:35 AM

****************

"Scully, don't go into your kitchen." Mulder said, grinning

sheepishly as soon as her and Starkweather walked through

the door. "We're having the meeting here. I just called

Skinner over."

"Mulder? What did you do to my--where's Will?" She said,

eyes widening, going to the kitchen. "OH MY GOD!

Muuuuuuuuuuulder!!"

"Sorry Scully, I'll get you a new kitchen wall." Then

turning to Starkweather, says "So, Starkweather, can we

call it a truce?"

"If you count a bib with little ducks on it a white flag,

sure." She said, awkwardly looking around the apartment.

"Have a seat." Mulder said. "Just for the record, I'd like

to forget our little discussion earlier."

"I'll take that as an apology. So whatchya got?"

"You guys playing nice?" Scully said, coming out of the

kitchen.

"It is not perhaps the warmest of friendships." Mulder

said, taking a seat on a chair across from Starkweather. He

noticed for the first time how much her eyes looked like

his fathers'.

"Scully, you made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I won't

send him postcards, but I won't murder him." Starkweather

said, doing her best impression of Marlon Brando.

"Cue the mandolins." Scully deadpanned, going into the

kitchen to rescue Will from his rocker.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder called after her, "If they made a

movie about us again, what do you think about Al Pacino

playing me? He's cool." Mulder said, taking the baby.

"He's a god, but, Mulder, I thought Paul Reiser was in 'Mad

About You'" Scully teased, giving Starkweather an "I-can't-

believe-we're-having-this-discussion" look.

"You wanna hold the baby?" Mulder asked Starkweather,

handing her the baby.

"Who'll they get to play me?" Starkweather whined, and then

in baby-talk, giving the baby a raspberry in between words.

"Yeeeeeees Will, who *phhhhbbbbbwwwwt* will

*phhhhhhhbbbbbwwwt* play phhhhhhbbbbbwwwt* me?"

"Oh, we'll get the special effects guys to come with

something for your part."

Scully and Starkweather both flashed Mulder a warning look.

Mulder was saved just then as the doorbell rang.

Scully went to get the door. "Thanks for your help on this.

Come on in, John."

"Hey, that bad guy from T2 would be PERFECT to play

Doggett." Mulder smirked.

"Shut up, Mulder." Sam returned dryly. Skinner came to the

door as soon as Sam came in the door, and Mulder showed

them both in. Sam went over to Starkweather and Will, and

looked disbelieving over at Mulder and Scully. "Look,

Starkweather," he said taking the baby, "finally someone

Mulder can relate to around here."

"So what are we going to do?" Mulder asked collectively.

They all sat there, all exchanging blank glances for a few

awkward minutes.

"Mulder, how does Canada sound?" Skinner suggested, looking

at Will as though he would go off.

9:35AM

Lawfirm, of Spangle, Carter, and Adams

****************************************

"Questions for Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder..." Ben

dictated into the mini tape recorder. "Please explain to

the court the circumstances under which you left the FBI.

Please explain to the court why you went against official

orders. Please explain to the court why you ordered

quarantine. Please describe to the court what you found on

that oilrig. Please describe to the court the circumstances

under which you left the oil rig." He paused to flip over

the tape. "Why do I get the feeling that the jury won't

accept the bullshit answers the fucking Deputy Mayor is

going to give me?"

"Spooky will at least give the jury something to laugh at

in the deliberation room. Jury duty for an environmental

trial isn't exactly the feel-good event of the year."

"Deputy Director, always a pleasure to see you sir." Ben

said with a smile, shaking his hand and offering the man a

seat. "My wife hasn't been sent to the principle's office

today, has she?" He said with a grin.

"No, Counselor. This isn't about your wife. This is about

your first big case. I want you to know that you've got a

friend in the FBI, one who will do everything he can to

help you bring justice to whomever is to blame."

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. The Assistant

Director isn't as cooperative, and neither is my wife."

"Well believe me, Mr. Starkweather, they both will pay for

their behavior if it has obstructed justice in any way. I

came to personally deliver the litigation papers on behalf

of the FBI to help move the process along smoothly. You

will find everything in order."

"Again, thank you sir. It is a relief to know someone in

your building is concerned with serving justice. I will

make sure the integrity of the FBI remains intact in the

process."

"I apologize for any complication that may have arisen on

behalf of my colleagues. I guess some people just don't

take their jobs seriously." Kersh said, and rose from his

chair, dropping a scrap of paper from his folder, and left

before Ben could hand it back to him.

Kersh:

"Discuss oil company matter at Lincoln Warehouse 5:30

second floor."

CBGS

Ben crumpled the note up and tossed it into the

wastebasket, and glanced back down at his legal pad.

He got the mini tape-recorder out and pressed record.

"Questions for FBI Special Agent John Doggett. Please

discribe to the court what you found on the oil rig. Please

explain the circumstances under which you left the oil rig.

Please explain to me what you've been doing with my

*WIFE!*" He shouted, and threw the mini tape recorder

across the floor. He took the peice of paper out of his

pocket again, and unfolded it, twirling it around between

his forefinger and middle finger.

He went back to the wastebasket and picked up the crumpled

note, and unfolded it. He shoved it into his pocket, and

turned the tape recorder on again. Forgetting that the tape

recorder was still on, he took the peice of paper out of

his pocket again, and unfolded it, twirling it around

between his forefinger and middle finger. What he wouldn't

give to be a fly on the wall at that meeting. Maybe that

meeting could give him the answers. It could give him proof

of who Agent Doggett really was, and if Jerilyn could see

that, maybe she would stop this stupid FBI kick she's on.

He could have Mrs. Starkweather back, and all would be as

it should be.

He picked up the phone, calling his secretary. "Cindy, do I

have any appointments between 4:30 and 6:30 this

afternoon?"

A few seconds later, a perky voice chirped, "Yes. You have

a 5 with your dentist.

Ben said inaudibly licking his teeth, "I need you cancel

that for me, please. Something's come up that can't be

moved."

"It's done, Mr. Starkweather. Should I make another dental

appointment?"

"Um...I'll let my teeth rot Cindy, thanks." He said, and

hung up. Yes, everything was definitely looking up.

9:04 AM

Scully's Apt.

************

"I don't like the Blue Jays." Mulder deadpanned, shaking

his head. "You guys have no idea how much I want to help

put that snake back in the grass...but I have my own job,

and I've already taken too many sick days."

"We know, Mulder." Sam said. "You're forgetting that this

isn't just *your* crusade anymore. It's *my* job now, and

Scully's and Starkweathers to find the Truth that's in

those files." Sam didn't know what he'd do if he was forced

out of his own project.

"Bottom line is we gotta get into Kersh's office somehow."

Starkweather said, pacing back and forth. "We need some way

to find out when he's not going to be there for sure."

"Skinner, can you get a hold of his planner?" Scully asked,

rescuing Will from Sam, who was scheduled for his morning

nap in a half an hour.

"I can try, Scully," Skinner answered, looking decidedly

uncomfortable so close to Will. He couldn't help but warm

up to the baby when Will refexively reached out for his

nose. When Skinner leaned closer, the baby promptly pulled

Skinner's glasses off. "But even if I was able to get a

hold of his planner, there's no telling if he has any time

away from his office before the trial. I'm going to have to

create a diversion." Skinner said, perching his glasses

back in their proper place.

"What if I tailed Ben?" Sam suggested. And keep him

alive! He mentally added.

"Doggett," Mulder started, "As much as I'd love to see the

crap kicked outta ya, I can't let you do that. What would

it accomplish except waste time we need finding to spend

finding proof?"

"It would keep Ben alive!" Sam inwardly protested. Too

bad he couldn't tell Mulder.

"Besides," Starkweather agreed, "as much as it pains me to

agree with Mulder, it wouldn't look exactly Kosher for

someone my husband thinks is gettin' freaky with me to be

caught following the lawyer who is about to grill his ass

on the stand."

"She's got a point, Doggett." Scully agreed.

"Mulder, Starkweather, tailing Ben is the only way we can

make sure Ben stays alive! doesn't have any tricks up his

sleeve." I hope they buy that

"Doggett," Scully protested, "If you're tagging Mr.

Starkweather, I'm going with you."

"Scully, I can't let you do that! How is Al going to tell

me what he's up to if Scully can here my half of the

conversation! What are you going to do about Will?"

"Agent Reyes can sit with him. Doggett, I'm not letting you

go out there alone."

"Doggett's right," Starkweather interjected, "Let me go."

"Starkweather," Skinner protested, "we need someone to

sneak into Kersh's office for evidence during the

diversion."

"I wonder if Angie Dickenson ever had these problems."

Starkweather deadpanned.

"Alright, gang..." Mulder said, sighing heavily. "I hate to

break this party up, but I have to go be a paper-pusher for

a while. Let me know how everything turns out later. Who

knows? Maybe I can get a buzz watching paint dry today."

"Mulder," Scully protested, "while you're high on the

paint, just make sure you don't do what you did on the

chloral hydrate in Texas."

"I don't care WHAT you say," Mulder started protesting,

heading out the door, "I did NOT recite the beginning of

Shaft."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." Scully deadpanned.

"Scully?" Starkweather gawked, "The beginning of Shaft! Oh

MY GOD! He DIDN'T!!" To which Mulder inappropriately

gestured to Starkweather on the way out a slamming door.

"Yee Haw." Sam said dryly.

9:37 AM

The Lone GunmenMobile

On the Corner of 23rd and Pennsylvania

***************************************

"Mulder owes us BIG TIME for this one." Frohike grumbled,

pulling the van into the corner.

"Geez, Frohike." Langley whined. "Man....there's this

wonderful product called DEODERANT!!!!! Ever hear of it?"

"For Christ's sake, Langley. Did you get those damn Funions

again? The van will smell like shit for WEEKS."

"It wasn't me!" Langley protested, "it was Byers. He had a

burrito last night for dinner. Beans, beans the musical

fruit, the more you eat the more you..."

"If I only had a brain." Byers sang barely audibly under

his breath.

"You see what I see, Frohickey?" Langley said, looking

through the camera lens.

"Yeah, Langley." Frohike answered, taking the camera lens

from him, pointing it away from the phone booth. "Damn,

she's tasty. I bet you could eat breakfast on her ass."

"Would you cut that out!" Byers said through his teeth,

snatching the camera away from Frohike. "That is Agent

Monica Reyes coming going to the FBI building! If she spots

us we are dead. Do you HEAR me boys?! DEAD!! Stay DOWN!"

They all crouched down under the windshield, and then all

three simultaneously, cautiously peered above the steering

wheel.

"Langley," Frohike glowered, "could you kindly get your

FOOT OUT OF MY CROTCH!"

"It's ok, she doesn't know the van yet..." Byers said,

"...we're safe."

"Byers, who's that blonde coming up behind her?" Frohike

grumbled, "Ohhhh Christ, doesn't that look like

Starkweather?"

Byers and Langley both nodded simultaneously.

"It's ok, isn't it?" Byers asked, now looking with his bare

eyes. "She doesn't know the van. The only way we'd be dead

right now is if..."

All three men's eyes expanded three sizes at the same time

as they saw a familiar red head moving toward them.

"Oh shit..." Langley whispered

"It's Scully!" Byers gulped.

"We're cooked!" Frohike grumbled.

"Very astute observance. That would be my evaluation of the

situation." Byers deadpanned as he saw the door handles to

the passenger side turning. "Are we insured?"

"Boys," Frohike said, patting them both on the shoulder,

"it was nice knowing you." He tried to bail out the back,

but Starkweather was poised, trigger-happy.

"Byers," Scully started, cocking her gun underneath his

chin. "Don't think I won't pull the trigger. What the H*LL

do you think your doing?"

Starkweather was holding Frohike in much the same position,

she had jumped him a few seconds ago, pinning his arm

behind his back, and face down, had a gun ready to fire

into the back of his head.

"Nice..." Langly's Adams' apple bobbed three times... "day

for a ride, ladies?"

"We...were just in the...neighborhood..." Frohike

whispered.

"...and don't try and cover up for Mulder. His *ss is next

if he put you up to this."

"We're dead!" Byers grumbled. "I'm going to die. I'm going

to die a virgin."

"Ha! Pay up, Frohickey!" Langley shouted triumphantly.

"Hey, at least I'm secure in my sexuality." Byers

protested, and lurched forward until the barrel of Scully's

gun was shoved in his nose.

"Don't knock it 'till ya tried it." Langly nasalled,

causing everyone to gawk at him. "Not that I ever--Scully,

I swear, it wasn't my idea! Please let me live!"

Reyes, who had her gun poised and ready to fire just behind

Langley's ear grinned and said "I had a *feeling* there was

going to be an ass-whuppin' today."

Starkweather, backing off of Frohike, but gun still pointed

at him, turned to Reyes saying "Feelin' nothin', Agent

Reyes. With the Idiot Troopers an ass-whuppin' is in the

forecast 100 peerrrrrcent."

"Feelings, nothing more than feelings." Frohike sang off-

key under his breath, shutting up abruptly at the click of

Starkweather's cocking gun.

"Spill it boys." Scully glowered. "What are you doing

here?"

"Mulder found out that a number from that payphone" Byers

said in rapid-fire, jerking his head behind him. "was

called lots of times..."

"Twenty six times." Langley interrupted.

"To someone high-up in the FBI, and we needed to know who

was making those calls." Frohike continued, almost running

his words into one, and finally daring to get up with

Starkweather's gun still pointed at him.

"So Mulder could get a solid lead on a connection between

the oil company and the FBI." Byers said, who had finally

been allowed free from Scully's death-grip and was now

straightening his tie and jacket. Reyes, Starkweather, and

Scully all exchanged evaluating glances, and silently came

to an agreement that their story was believable.

"They may be dolts, but they're not liars." Scully said.

"We're dolts?" All three echoed simultaneously.

"Why didn't Mulder tell us that?" Starkweather demanded

Scully.

"We thought Mulder sent you guys to spy on us." Explained

Reyes.

"Boys, let us know if you find anything." Starkweather

said, and closed the back door. "Nice seeing you again."

"We'll have to do this again sometime." Byers said,

grinning like an idiot.

"As much as we'd love to chat," Reyes said, shutting the

driver side's door at the same time Scully shut the

passenger side door,

"We've got work to do." Scully said, and shut the door,

making all those in the van feel almost sorry for Mulder...

"Scully!" Frohike called after her, Scully opened the door,

"so this whole assault on us was to get Mulder?"

…almost.

"No…" Scully said with a sly grin crossing her lips, "I

have my own reasons for beating the crap outta you guys."

"Being?" Byers whimpered, wondering what he did to deserve

his punishment.

"Two words…" Scully replied. "Vegas Payback."

Byers landed his head on the steering wheel, setting the

horn off.

"I told you that was a bad idea, man." Langley said to

Frohike with a thwack on the back of his head.

"My idea!" Frohike was protesting as Scully shut the door,

"Byers is the one who hadda needed to get laid."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Langley shrugged as Reyes

closed her door.



Assistant Director Skinner's Office

10:00 AM Eastern Time

Assistant Director Walter Skinner had prided himself on

being a "by-the-book" kind of man. Not in his wildest

dreams did he ever imagine hitching along for a ride on the

wild side. Part of him was screaming at him "Jesus, Walt!

You are less than two years away from retirement and

pension. Why are you throwing it all away now??"

The other part, the part that rose above his uptightness to

stand down Krycek, stand next to Mulder and to stand up to

the Smoking Man when he was still running the show, said

"It's the Right Thing to Do."

And he knew it was. But it still felt wrong.

Still, he got out his cell phone and dialed Starkweather's

number. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

"I've always wanted to be Mata Hari."

"Agent Starkweather," Skinner hissed. "may I remind you of

the seriousness of this matter? If you get caught, I can't

help you."

"With all due respect," Starkweather said sweetly "if YOU

get caught, I can't help you either, so it's sink or swim

for both of us. I'd rather go down grinning than getting my

knickers in a twist about it."

"You're a pain in the ass, Agent Starkweather."

"Yes sir."

"Be carefull."

"You too, sir." Starkweather shut her cell off and looked

at Scully and Sam-in-Doggett with an evil grin. "It's game

time, sports fans. Let's get it on!"

In front of the elevator

The basement of J Edgar Hoover

"So that dark-haired woman was Agent Reyes?" Starkweather

asked Scully as she acted as point-guard while they waited

for the elevator elevator. "Everything happened so fast, I

didn't have time to properly introduce myself."

Scully smiled. "Oh, I'm sure you two will have a chance to

talk at greater length in the future."

Sam inwardly groaned. According to the "current" future,

Ben was going to die soon, then Mulder, then Starkweather,

then... Sam didn't want to think about it.

The elevator whirred down and the doors swished. Scully and

Sam got in. "Don't get killed!" Starkweather cheerily bade

them farewell as the elevator doors slammed shut, taking

her back to the depths of the J Edgar Hoover building.

"She has a way with words, doesn't she?" Scully remarked

blandly as they rode the elevator to the parking garage.

"Yeah..." Oh boy Sam thought.

*******************

Meanwhile...

Skinner picked up the phone. "Deputy Director, might I have

a moment of your time?"

"What is this concerning, Assistant Director?" The words

were pleasant enough, but the tone of voice was frigid.

"I've been placed in charge with setting up a task force to

monitor possible cult activities in Idaho. I need to talk

to you about budgeting and manpower. After Waco and Ruby

Ridge, no one is really eager to be a team player when it

comes to missions like this." Skinner said evenly, knowing

that this would appeal to Kersh's hardcore belief of "The

FBI MUST look good at all costs."

"I have some time." Kersh said slowly.

"Let's meet in the cafeteria," Skinner suggested. "I

haven't had breakfast yet," which was true. He had declined

the doughnuts at Scully's, instead, drinking cup after cup

of her good Vienna Roast coffee.

Known more for his girth than his mirth, Kersh agreed.

"I'll meet you down there in five minutes." Kersh hung up

the phone and went to his file to dig up old cases to use

as possible scenarios on how to handle the situation.

Skinner redialed Starkweather's cell on his own mobile.

Starkweather, who was already back down in the dungeon, was

piling files after files on her desk. "Starkweather."

"We're meeting in five minutes."

"Bring it on," she said to him, hung up, put the last file

on top of the tottering stack on her desk. She dialed

Skinner's secretary's extension. "Kimberly, hi, it's Agent

Starkweather, look I have a BIG favor to ask of you,

Skinner asked me to up some old X-Files cases to him,

anything that has to do with cult involvement. I've got the

case files here, but I completely forgot that the about the

rule about not letting the originals leave the office and I

have no time to photocopy them," she could feel Kimberly's

blood pressure rising. "I'm so sorry, I hate dumping this

on you but it would save my ass..."

Kimberly stifled a sigh. "I suppose so," the long suffering

receptionist muttered.

"Say..." Starkweather said, as if the thought had just hit

her. "Maybe Kersh's secretary can help you. Kersh won't be

there barking orders at the poor girl, she'd probably be

happy to get away from him." Starkweather felt relief when

Kimberly tittered in nervous laughter. She didn't like

Kersh either.

As soon as she finished the call, Starkweather beat feet

into the bathroom and waited for the secretaries to come

downstairs.

Starkweather didn't have to wait long. She heard two female

voices outside. "Ew, it smells funny down here," Kersh's

receptionist commented in disgust.

"That's from all the dead bodies they hide down here,"

Kimberly replied.

"Really?"

"Naw, I'm just pulling your leg," Kimberly said. "But you

know what I heard?"

Starkweather rolled her eyes. The women had chosen to stop

and gossip in front of the bathroom door. Come on she

griped to herself. GET IN THE OFFICE!!

"What?"

"I heard that Agents Mulder and Scully used to come in on

Saturday afternoons and just go at it right on the floor of

their office."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Oh for Christ's sake Starkweather bowed her head and

put her palm to her forehead in supreme irritation. So

Mulder and Scully had sex. Big fucking deal... can we GET

on with things already ladies?

"Well," Kersh's receptionist said tartly. "Just goes to

show how spooky those two are. I mean, it's not like

they're the first male-female to have an affair, but most

of them prefer motel rooms."

"I know! And Agent Scully was well... you know...

**normal** before she started working with Mulder...

although, can you hardly blame her, the man is to die

for." Kimberly said dramatically.

Starkweather thought she was going to vomit.

"Oh, I know, I saw him on TV last night for a City Counsel

meeting and he was all cleaned up, in a three piece suit...

oh! He looked like he could have been on the cover of GQ.

Such a sexy man. If I wasn't married..."

"Speaking of married..."

"What?"

"I think the other two agents are trying to follow in

Mulder and Scully's path..."

"Agent Doggett and.... But I thought Starkweather was

married?"

Starkweather IS married, you cow Starkweather fumed.

The voices started to die away just as the conversation was

getting interesting. Starkweather pushed her massive

irritation away from her (for now) and slipped out of the

bathroom and to the stairs where she ran towards her

current mission...

Nailing Kersh.

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. Weird... I smell

cigarette smoke... like Ben's cigarettes... maybe Ben was

here earlier today... but J. Edgar just went 100% no

smoking... hm. Interesting.

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... I hope she's okay

Then, the lights flickered, went out, and turned back on.

Doggett could hear the sounds of computers rebooting from

the outside. Shit, I hope I'M okay...

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." Paper cuts are a far cry from

getting beat up and kicked around by that Flukeman thing

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?" Oh well, at least Scully and

Skinner are still in for a good fight.

"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.

I'm toast 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. C'mon c'mon f*cker, LEAVE already!!! she

silently beseeched him. Don't you have careers to destroy

and lives to make miserable??

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???"

What the holy hell? 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 You lying two faced rat

bastard.

"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. WHY?? 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."

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."

My God! He's trying to threaten the Mayor into dismissing

me! I might as well kiss my normal *ss good bye

"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 for sticking up for me-

-I wonder what the boys would think about sneaking into the

Mayor's office to find out whose in Arizona 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?"

As long as it doesn't involve anything specific,

yeah...sure "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."

I wouldn't count on it 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. It's going to be like going back to

your POS car after test driving a brand new Ferrari 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.

Why do people make such a big deal about me and Scully?

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..." really wanting to believe you don't have feelings

for him 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

Why hasn't anyone noticed before??

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."

The hell she won't 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. Maybe the truth is out there in

that warehouse 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.

At least she can't see me yet 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. Wow, if THAT doesn't send her into

supernova... 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 Girl, I hope that's not the last time

you see him alive 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. Goddamn it

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.

And if I am right Ben thought as he pulled up to a Kum-

and-Go to buy more cigarettes Damn, family reunions are

going to be fun. 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.