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.

5. Trials and Tribulations

Cherry Tree Apartments

Effiency #1013

Dawn

CGB Spender let himself into the little apartment rented

under the name of John Archway. Unloosing his tie, he sank

into the Barcolounger he just got yesterday. He toyed with

the idea of turning the television on for white noise, but

decided the noise of the most influential city in the

United States making the transition from darkness into

light would be background sound enough.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled to himself as he

lit a cigarette. He smiled ruefully as he thought about his

life after a year.

Foolish Covarrubias and Krycek, leaving him for dead at the

bottom of the stairs, without eliminating his nurse. She

had rescued him and brought him to "the greys." With

Jeremiah Smith as their prisoner, he was forced to heal

him. Such irony. The Cancer Man had felt better now than he

had in years.

He laid low for the most part, convinced the X-Files would

fall apart without the watchful eye of Mulder. He soon

learned that, although he admired her, he had also

underestimated Dana Scully.

He had also underestimated the new G-man, John Doggett. No

one expected the straight-laced modern day Rhett Bulter

with the Brooklynese accent to last through the weirdness

of the X-Files.

He had also underestimated Monica Reyes. She had been

foolishly written off as a flake, a nobody, not a force to

be reckoned with.

Still he remained in retirement. He was rather enjoying a

bit of peace, letting the new recruits slowly rebuild the

project.

Then he heard there was Starkweather on the forecast and he

seized control of the project he started so many years ago.

He knew that he would never know peace again.

Twenty-eight years too late, he realized the Syndicate made

two fatal mistakes. The first was only taking Samantha and

not Fox. The second was letting the Admiral taking the

girl-baby home to his wife when he was ordered to destroy

her, at the time the only evidence of successful alien-

human hybridization.

He wondered how long it would be before they would figure

it out that Jerilyn was in this world but not of this

world.

He worried about when Jerilyn would produce a child of her

own. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder already created one and

that was bad enough. If Starkweather were to ever

procreate... he didn't even want to think of it... which

was why it was a godsend that Mr. Starkweather had decided

to meddle in the oil rig affair. Perfect opportunity to

make Mrs. Starkweather a widow.

But that wasn't enough. The Cancer Man knew he had to do

more.

For his own reasons, he had tried to keep Fox Mulder alive

ever since he was a child. Because of the strength of the

Admiral's pleading and the assumption that the infant would

die within hours anyway, he let him take Jerilyn home. But

now, twenty-eight years too late, he realized that twice,

by letting emotions rule instead, he very well may have

crafted the doom of his own planet. There was precious

little time left to rectify those mistakes.

Fox William Mulder and Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather

were not children anymore. The decision had been made and

he could rest with his conscience.

The Mulder dynasty would be wiped out with one fell stroke.

It had to be.



Ben and Jeri's apartment

5:10 AM

The radio alarm clock went off, right in the middle of "The

Bob and Tom" show. Jerilyn's hand snaked out from

underneath of the covered and solidly thumped the alarm

clock. She snuggled deeper under the covers and scootched

closer to the middle of the bed where Ben usually slept.

Jerilyn sat straight up in bed. "Ben?" she asked. She leapt

out of bed and reached for the phone, calling Ben's office

first. It rang and rang and rang. "Don't panic, don't

panic..." she told herself as she dialed Ben's cell phone.

"Why did I let him go alone..."

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

The Holiday Inn

Room 127

Detective Edward Carillo surveyed the scene while the

forensics team went through the room with a fine-tooth

comb. He turned to the night-manager who was perspiring

heavily. "And NOBODY saw ANYTHING?" he asked.

The night-manager wiped his forehead with a white

hankerchief. "No sir, Mr. Starkweather checked in a quarter

to three. Our security guard noticed the door broken into

at about four-thirty and saw the blood all over. We called

the police immediately. We didn't touch ANYTHING."

Just then, the cell phone on the nightstand next to the gun

began to ring.

Carillo took out his own hankerchief and picked up the

phone. "Hello?"

A pause. Then, a surly suspicious voice, "You're not Ben."

"No, I am not. Who may you be?"

"Who is this?"

"I asked you first."

"I'm Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather with the Federal

Bureau of Investigation who is trying to call her husband

on his cell phone. With those pleasantries out of the way -

- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

"My name is Detective Edward Carillo with the DC PD, Agent

Starkwe-"

"Detective?? DETECTIVE?? What-- wh-what's going on? Where's

Ben?"

"Agent Starkweather, could you meet us at the police

station in twenty minutes."

"Oh God, oh my God... WHAT HAPPENED! WHERE IS BEN??"

Jerilyn clutched the phone tightly.

"Mrs. Starkweather we need to ask you some questions."

Jerilyn pulled herself together and forced her to think

like an FBI agent. "Okay, okay... I'll be there as soon as

possible." She hung up the phone. Took several deep

breaths, picked up the phone and dialed.

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

Sam had just got to Doggett's apartment. He stopped at the

door, holding the keys in his hands. "Okay, if I stopped

Ben's murder, I will leap... now... NOW... NOW NOW NOW..."

Doggett's cell phone began to ring. "Oh no..." he answered

with a heavy heart... "Doggett."

There were several deep breaths before: "Papa.. um... it's

me, I need a favor..." a small voice on the other end

replied. "Ben's gone... nobody knows where he is. A cop

answered his cell phone when I tried to call and he told me

he wants me to come to the police station... and... and I

don't want to go by myself..." her voice cracked.

Sam grimaced. "I'll pick you up," he said.

"Thank you." a subdued Starkweather hung up the phone.

Sam put the phone to his head. "Oh boy."

Al was yanked from Sam and Doggett's house into complete

darkness. He knew immediately what had happened. They had

to break Ziggy down to try and purge the virus. To do that,

they had to turn off the electricity. Unfortunately, the

electricity was killed before Al had a chance to get out of

the chamber door.

It was as dark as unconsciousness, which oddly enough

served as a small comfort to Al. He couldn't see how small

the space was that he was confined in, and that was a great

help to his state of mind. He started banging his fists on

the door furiously.

"Gooooooooooouuuuuuuuusssssssssshiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!!!

!!!!!" Al hollared at the top of his lungs.

"Admiral," Goushie stammerred, "I'm busy...in a way...over

here, trying to fix the mainframe." Goushie always

stammered, but it got worse when he had to tell something

he knew the recipient didn't want to hear.

"Al, we'll have the electricity back on as soon as we can,

meanwhile, just sit tight, okay?" Came Dr. Beeks' crisp

voice on the other side of the wall.

Al flicked the gas on his lighter he kept in his pocket for

his cigars.

"How's Starkweather?" Doggett asked.

"Dr. Beeks, would you mind telling me why he's out of the

waiting room?"

"I can't see to find my way outta here, Admiral." Doggett

assured him. "I won't be headin' out any time soon. How's

Starkweather."

"Yeah, *sure* he doesn't have any feelings for her." Al

grumbled. Then louder to reassure Doggett on the other

side, "She's fine for now. Last I checked before the power

shut was Mr. Starkweather is still killed tonight."

"Damn!" He shouted, pounding his fist against the door.

"Doc, you got a sledge hammer or something I can get this

door down with?" Doggett suggested, trying to help.

"In the emergency kit. Tina? You think you can get it for

him?"

"Sure 'Beena." Tina chirped.

"NO!" Al protested adamantly. "If you break down that door,

I can't get back there, and that's no good for anybody.

Least of all for your little chickadee."

"She's not my little chickadee," Doggett argued, "and if we

don't get you outta there, you're gonna use up all that

oxygen if we can't get the electricity back on, and that's

no good for anybody either."

"There's a good chance we'll get the power back on." Al

persisted. "I cannot leave Sam back there!" He shouted.

"There's enough Oxygen in here to last a couple of days."

He said, evaluating the situation. Then turned off his

lighter, because that was eating up his oxygen supply. He

sat on the floor, figuring now would be a good opportunity

to take a nap, fervently hoping that the electricity would

turn on before it was too late

4:37 AM

En route to Doggett Residence

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

With at least *some* good leads on, and the main suspect

incapacitated, Sam decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to

salvage what he could of at least a couple of the hours

left of sleep.

He was about to take his turn-off when he saw a black car

with two elderly men sitting in the front. There was one in

the back, but he couldn't make out who it was. None of the

faces looked at all familiar. When they pulled up next to

him at the red light before his turn-off, Sam realized that

it was the same car.

He waited until it wouldn't be obvious that he was being

followed, and decided to take his chance. They waited until

they were inside Maryland, and stopped on a bridge, and

took a six-foot long unsecured bag out, and slumped it over

the edge. Sam waited at the underpass in the shadows,

making sure he wasn't spotted. Judging from the evidence of

what these men had done before, Sam was sure that waiting

till Doggett, Scully, Reyes, and Starkweather could build a

strong case against them. It wouldn't do anyone any good

for him to have the same fate as the pour soul of whoever

was in the body bag. The latest piece of evidence would

have to be revealed in the morning with everyone there.

Now, Sam thought yawning, first thing's first. If he

planned to be coherent at all the next day, he would need

at least a little sleep.

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

...a few hours earlier...

"No...I want Starkweather alive, just make it easy to

assume that he is dead." Marita said. "You *do* understand,

Admiral; we will only kill him if he doesn't help our

agenda. He is in no danger at this time."

"It will destroy my daughter." The Admiral mildly

protested.

"Oh, so that's why he's in a hotel room tonight?" She

hissed. "I'm sure she won't have anymore spirit left in

her. That's what we're aiming for."

"I won't be responsible for this."

"You were responsible for the end of many lives, Admiral."

she reminded coldly. "What is one more to add to the list.

If he dies, she lives...we all live. He will be martyred

for all of us. Maybe you can sleep at night if you think of

it in that way."

"What can you do about it now, anyway, Admiral." Kersh

agreed. "This has all been set in motion anyway. Our people

have already begun the process. You could not stop it if

you tried."

"I suppose I can't stop the tides, either." The Admiral

said quietly, and turned on his heals, heading back to his

hotel room.



Scully's apartment

right after Mulder gets back from the police station...

Mulder let himself in just as his cell rang. "Mulder," he

said in a hushed tone, for Scully and the baby were still

sleeping.

It was the Mayor, "I'm hoping that I caught you before

you're leaving for work, I just wanted to let you know that

the breakfast meeting got cancelled. I don't need you here

until about ten or so."

I love politics Mulder grinned as he looked towards

Scully's bedroom. "Well... if you insist..."

The Mayor chuckled before he hung up. "Go take that pretty

redhead of yours out to breakfast. I'll see you around ten-

thirty."

Mulder, smiling like a seventeen year old boy at prom,

crept into Scully's bedroom.

He reflected on the many many classic novels he had to read

for his English requirements while at Oxford. They always

invariably described the heroine in repose with adjectives

such as "angelic", "heavenly" and "queenly."

Scully was none of those while she slept. The covers were

kicked off, her pajamas completly rumpled. Her hair was

wildly tousled, her mouth wide open, snoring slightly.

Mulder shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes. He

crossed over to Scully and smoothed her hair out of her

face. The slight touch startled Scully out of sleep.

"Mulder... what??"'

"Well, Scully, I've got good news and good news."

"That's a first. Normally it's bad news and worse news."

Scully sat up.

"The good news is they found my car. I think they're going

to sell the videotape of the bust to FOX's "Stupidest

Criminals.""

"That IS good news," Scully said. "What's the other good

news."

Mulder crawled on top of the bed. "The GOOD news is, that

my ass-crack of dawn breakfast meeting has been cancelled

and the Mayor just called and said he didn't need me until

ten-thirty."

Scully rolled over. "Mulder... this is my day off... I was

going to sleep in..." Mulder pounced on her and started to

tickle her. "Noooooooo stop stop... you'll wake the

baby..." she giggled.

Mulder stopped tickling but he held her down playfully on

the bed. "Come on Scully," he teased. "After an eight year

long partnership fraught with peril, destruction, terror

and unrequited emotional ties, we've got a lot of making up

to do."

"Mulder, don't you think having Will is make-up enough?"

But Scully was already struggling to get Mulder's shirt

off.

"Well, I figure Will makes up for at least three years of

unspoken sexual tension." Mulder start planting butterfly

kisses on her forehead and face.

Scully smiled and tilted her head up towards his to meet

his mouth. "Mulder....???"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" He was busy nibbling on her

neck and working downwards.

"When did our lives turn into a soap opera?"

"You're complaining?" He was undoing the buttons of her

pajamas top. "I mean, if you really not into this, I know

of a haunted house that's a twenty minute drive north of

town that's supposed to beat the one we went to a few

Christmases ago. At this house, back in 1915, an entire

family was killed in a house fire and when someone built a

new house on the old foundations in 1936-"

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

She placed her hand underneath his chin so he would have to

look up at her. "Shut up." She pushed him off and laid on

top of him, kissing him as she ran her finger through his

hair.

Mulder gave her a naughty grin and shut up.

The Washington DC Vehicle Impound

7:45 am

Norton Guffman walked towards the small office building,

balancing a huge box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and two

large Jamocha coffees. He kicked the door a few times

instead of knocking. His friend and co-worker, Shaquille

Rathaman opened and laughed at him. "Shoot..." she drawled.

"Need a hand?" She took the coffees.

"Ready for another exciting day of paper-pushin'?" he asked

her as he went inside.

"Oh lord, aren't I always?" Shaquille settled herself

behind her desk. "Oh, hey, FYI for ya, honey. We've got the

Deputy Mayor's car here in VIP status. He'll be here later

today."

"The Deputy wha--? Why?"

"Ah, some punk-ass kids stole his car last night and when

the cops recovered it, they brought it down here."

"Huh," Guffman said, looking out the window at Mulder's car

while slurping coffee, dribbling it down his freshly washed

white blouse. "Damn," he muttered while his partner

laughed.

"Your wife's gonna shoot you for gettin' another shirt

dirty, Norty."

"Well, and the Deputy Mayor's gonna shoot us for having

that car dirty, look at the big grease spot on the trunk."

He put the sloppy cup of coffee down and took out his

hankerchief. "I'm gonna go clean it off 'fore he gets

here."

"Brown noser," Shaquille said before she busied herself

with paperwork.

Guffman wallked outside, already feeling the oppressive

June heat. "Damn," he said again, wiping his forehead. When

he got close to the car, he stopped, did a double take and

said "What in the world..." Gingerly he touched the spot,

looked at his fingers and started to shake... "Oh my

Gosh..." he ran back to the office.

Shaquille looked up. "Norty, you're whiter than usual,

what's up?" she quipped.

"Shaquille, call the cops and get me the keys to the Deputy

Mayor's car."

"What? Norty have you lost you mind-" she started to say

but was silenced when Guffman held up his two fingers. They

were coated in blood.

"Gimme those keys," he said in a shaky voice. "I think

there's somethin' in that trunk."

"You ain't touching a damn thing until the cops get here,"

Shaquille ordered as she dialed frantically.

Fifteen minutes later, rookie Officer Jennifer Ithenstein

opening the trunk open while her partner Howard Lisbon,

still bleary-eyed from his call out to the hotel room where

the up and coming lawyer Benjamin Starkweather was abducted

from, covered her back.

"Holy Schnikes," she exclaimed when the trunk flew open.

"What is it?" Guffman quailed.

But Ithenstein was busy radioing back to dispatch. "We need

CSI and some DC "dicks" (police slang for detectives) at

the impound, ASAP," she said harshly. "I got a trunk of a

early model Ford Taurus, dripping with blood."

Guffman fainted.

Lisbon peered over Ithenstein's shoulder. "There's

something in there," he said, slipping on latex gloves. He

reached in and pulled it out. "It's a man's billfold," he

announced. "I'm opening it..... oh my God..."

"What is it?" Ithenstein asked looking at the one thing no

one could find at the crime scene at the Holiday Inn:

Benjamin Starkweather's wallet.

As Lisbon stared at the Minnesota driver's license inside

the wallet, he turned to his parter and said: "Call

Carillo."

Meanwhile

Interrogation Room A

Washington DC Police Station

8:01 AM

Sam was leaning against the wall, angrily watching the

interogation dance between Carillo and Starkweather, but

holding his tongue.

Carillo rubbed his temples again. "Alright, Mrs.

Starkweather, let's go through this one more time."

Starkweather, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of

black dress slacks, her hair pulled up in its

characteristic bun, gritted her teeth and glared at the

detective. "Sir, with all due respect," she heroically

blinked back tears. "I've told you what happened last night

twice already. I am well schooled in the art of

questioning. If you're looking for discrepancies in my

"story", you aren't going to find any."

They can't suspect her Sam thought incredulously.

"But you admit that you and Mr. Starkweather are having

martial difficulties."

"That's not exactly a deep dark secret," Starkweather said

coolly.

"But you let him go alone to a potentially life-threatening

situation."

"He was adamant about going alone, I told you this. We got

into an argument about him going. He assured me that he

would be fine alone, so for my own sanity's sake, I gave

him one of my firearms to take with. Ben can handle a

weapon. He and his father go hunting all the time. I wanted

to go with or have him at least call my partner here, or my

superior, Agent Scully. But he insisted on going alone, so

I let him." Sam and Carillo could barely hear her say: "I

shouldn't have let him go alone."

Carillo pressed on. "That would be Agent Dana Scully? Of X-

File fame?"

"Yes sir, we all work on the X-Files."

"And you believe that your husband's disappearance is

directly connected to an X-File case that your husband was

taking to court?"

"Yes sir."

Carillo's partner just then entered the interrogation room.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Carillo

privately," said Dectective David Sommerset.

Carillo excused himself. Despite her knowledge of the two-

way mirror and the hidden tape recorder, she turned to Sam

and pleaded, "What AREN'T they telling us?"

"I don't know, Starkweather," Sam said helplessly.

Starkweather folded her hands together as if she was

praying and pressed her hands against her forehead, her

shoulders shaking as she fought tears.

Outside the interogation room, Sommerset asked Carillo.

"Whaddya think?"

"Well, she doesn't have an alibi and her reports from her

previous field office in Minneapolis don't have much good

to say about her, she was written up several times for

inappropriate displays of temper... but... I don't know

man, my gut's telling me she doesn't have a clue what's

going on. I think she's clean."

"Well, I think your guts right."

"Whaddya got?"

"Ithenstein and Lisbon went out on a car on a report with

blood stains on the Deputy Mayor's trunk."

"What?"

"Lemme finish. The Deputy Mayor used to be a fibbie, working

with the X-Files and it's no secret at City Hall or J.

Edgar that the DM and Agent Starkweather do not get along.

Plus, he's got no love for her husband ever since he

subpoenaed him, along with Agent Doggett, Agent Scully and

his own wife for some court case on the last case the DM

ever worked on as an official fibbie. I don't know what the

nature of the case is, but from what I've been able to

gather in a short time, it's a big'un and nobody working

for the Spook Squad at J. Edgar wants that case to go to

trial."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Lisbon found Mr. Starkweather's wallet in the DM's trunk.

The trunk was saturated in blood. We've got samples set to

forensics right now."

"You think those two feds," Carillo gestured towards the

interrogation room, "may have cooked something up along

with the DM so they don't have to go to court?"

"I would have said yes," Sommerset said. "Except for the

fact that our happy little car-jackers changed their

stories. They're now saying that it was the Deputy Mayor

that hired him. They're saying that the DM wanted Ben out

of the way and when they asked if he was worried about

getting caught, he laughed it off, saying that the blame

would fall on those two 'cause it's been rumored that those

two share more than offices, if you know what I mean. Plus

it's also not a secret that the DM's got a major hard-on

for Agent Doggett because Doggett supposedly pushed the DM

out of the X-Files. Doggett's got a solid history for being

absolutely by-the-book, plus a total career-climber. You're

looked at the next possible AD when Skinner retires. As for

the missus... well, maybe she's doing the nasty with him

and maybe not, but if her Minneapolis transcripts are

spotted, her military, her med school and her DC records

are squeaky clean, not to mention her personal history of

being straight as a die. According to our profiler, if she

wanted to get rid of her husband, she'd be more of the type

to serve him papers, not blow him away."

"But neither one of 'em got alibis."

"But you just said that your gut says she's clean."

"I know, but I need proof to back up my gut." Carillo said.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Bring me the Deputy Mayor."

Scully's apartment

8:17 am

Spooned around her tiny body, Mulder played with her hair.

"Scully?"

"Hm?"

"We should go somewhere."

"Go where?" she asked lazily. "Out for breakfast?"

"No... I mean, away, on a trip. Just me and you and Boo."

"Mulder, do my ears deceive me? Are you actually suggesting

a vacation? Like normal people?"

"Well, I haven't really gone on a vacation except for

Graceland a few years ago, unless you call being held

against my will on a spaceship then being buried alive for

three months a vacation."

"Ha ha." Scully turned around to face him. "Where would you

want to go?"

"How about the Black Hills."

"The Black Hills?"

"Yeah. The Black Hills, South Dakota. Get a nice hotel room

in Rapid City, go see Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse

monument, Sturgis, hey in fact, if we can schedule it

right, we can go up there the same time the big Harley

Davidson rally is up there. Whaddya say, Scully? I won't

shave for about two weeks and... neither would you I guess,

then get all of us some matching leather pants and I'll get

a Hog with a side-car so all three of us can ride up

together. They make the cutest little helmets for

babies..."

"Mulder, your idea of family togetherness scares me."

"I hope you're not suggesting Disneyland. I have a deep-

seated fear of Donald Duck."

"I think William's a little young for Disneyland. I think

he's also a little young for Sturgis too."

"Well how old does he have to be before I can take him to

the rally?"

"Forty."

Mulder snorted with laughter. "Well, where do you want to

go?"

"Name a state that we haven't been to where no type of

paranormal strangeness has occured to us."

"Well, that rules out the majority of the Continental

United States." Mulder reasoned. "How about this Scully?

This weekend, I'll go up to Mom and Dad's house in Martha's

Vineyard and get it fixed up and as soon as this fiasco

with Ben Starkweather's law suit gets cleared up, we'll go

up there for a long week and pretend we're just the typical

boring, middle-aged All-American family."

Scully snuggled closer. "Works for me."

Just then Mulder's cell phone rang. "Arrggghhh... real

life," he complained as he reached for his phone.

"Mulder... yes... okay... sure that's no problem... what's

this about... I see... I'll be there in forty-five

minutes." He hung up.

"What's that about?"

"The police station. Something about my car. They said they

had some questions for me." Mulder shrugged. "It's probably

no big deal." He swung out of bed and headed for the

shower.

After checking on Will to make sure he was still asleep,

Scully joined him.

The police station

9:16 am

"Have a seat Mr. Mulder," Detective Carillo offered. "Can I

get you anything? Coffee, water? Juice."

"No, thanks. What's going on?"

"Oh, I've just got some quick questions," Carillo slid a

photograph in front of him. "Do you know this man?"

Mulder picked it up. "Sure, that's Ben Starkweather."

"Do you know Mr. Starkweather very well?"

Mulder's trouble sonar starting beeping loudly within him.

"Has something happened to him?"

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Mulder."

"I know him. Not very well, I'm better aquainted with his

wife."

"Ah, Mrs. Starkweather. Interesting lady, wouldn't you

say?"

"I wouldn't say she's a lady."

"Good friends with Mrs. Starkweather?"

Mulder eyed the detective suspiciously. "May I ask what

this has to do with my car?"

"I'm getting there. Are you good friends with Mrs.

Starkweather?" Carillo asked again, a little more firmly.

Mulder struggled for an answer. "No..." he finally said. "I

wouldn't say Mrs. Starkweather and I are friends."

"Uh-huh." Carillo made a note. "Mr. Mulder, where were you

last night around.... oh... four AM?"

"I was at Agent Dana Scully's house." Mulder felt himself

getting defensive.

"And she is...?"

"My ex-partner when I was still working for the FBI."

"Still good friends with Agent Scully?"

"Yes."

"Very good?"

"We're in a relationship now," Mulder forced himself to

say, it still felt weird admitting out loud what Scully

really was to him. "We're raising a child together."

"How nice," Carillo said. "Can she corraborate your story,

Mr. Mulder?"

"Yes..." Mulder felt more and more uneasy. "Where are you

going with this? Has something happened to the

Starkweathers?"

"You could say that. Would Agent Scully lie for you?"

"What?" Mulder scowled. "Detective, you better tell me

what's going on?"

"Mr. Mulder, the trunk of your car was coated with blood."

Carillo informed him pleasantly. "and Mr. Starkweather's

wallet was found in the trunk as well."

"WHAT!!!" Mulder bolted out of his chair. "How?!?!"

"I was hoping you could tell us."

"ME?!?! But... I... I don't..." Mulder's mind began working

frantically. I'm being set up. "My car was stolen

earlier yesterday. I received a call early this morning

that it was found... but..." Mulder shook his head. "I

don't have any answers for you."

Carillo eyed him carefully. "I see..."

"Have you told Agent Starkweather?"

"We've talked to her."

"Is she alright?"

"I thought you two weren't friends?"

"We're not... but she's doing a good job in the X-Files, my

old division and she is fairly good friends with Agent

Scully. We don't see eye to eye all the time...

Starkweather and I, but I respect her work and don't wish

any harm to her OR her husband."

Against his will, Carillo stood up and said. "You may leave

Mr. Mulder, but I wouldn't recommend leaving town anytime

soon. You never know when an arrest warrant would pop up."

He went to the door and paused, fingering the door knob.

"This is your only chance to come clean and tell us what

happened. I could recommend leniency."

"I wish I could tell you what happened too." Mulder said

clearly, firmly.

"Well, when we do come up with the goods, you better not

make me chase after you, Deputy Mayor." Carillo said.

"Otherwise that might put me in a real bad mood and I might

tell the judge to throw the book at you instead." He opened

the door and watched Mulder hurry out.

Sommerset came out of the observation room. "Think that was

a good idea, letting Mulder go like that?"

Carillo shrugged. "He ain't going anywhere. He's got a

girlfriend and a baby to worry about."

Just then, another officer, clutching a Ziplock baggie came

running down the hall. "DETECTIVE!!!! Wait!!!"

"What is it?"

The officer, out of breath, "We just found a body off the

pier on the Potomac. Some kids can testify that they saw a

group of men dump it in the river earlier this morning and

that they were driving an early model Taurus."

"Like the DM's!" Carillo grabbed the young rookie by the

arm.

"Told ya we shouldn't have let the DM go," Sommerset

snarled as he ran down the hallway where Mulder

disappeared.

"Are you sure it's Starkweather?" Carillo demanded the

young rookie.

The rookie held up the Ziplock baggie. "The body was

burned, but we took this off of him. It was on the left

ring-finger."

Carillo took the baggie and looked at the contents. "Oh

shit!" he exclaimed and took off running.

Sam escorted a very shaken Jerilyn Starkweather down the

dingy hallway towards the exit. He felt so bad for her that

he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. She

didn't fight him off. "I can't believe this is happening,"

she said softly, but dry-eyed.

Sam was bereft words, for how could he say something as

hollow as "We'll find him," when he already knew that Ben

was dead.

Just as they were about to exit, they met Mulder at the

door. Starkweather glared. "What the hell are you doing

here?"

"Jerilyn, Doggett, I need to talk to you NOW," Mulder said

insistantly but was interrupted by Carillo and Sommerset.

Sommerset roughly grabbed Mulder by the arms, pulling out

his handcuffs. "You're coming with me, buddy," he sneered.

"What the hell?" Starkweather asked as Carillo pulled her

aside.

While Sommerset read him his rights, Mulder was yelling at

Sam and Starkweather. "Jerilyn! Doggett, I'm being set up.

Please! Call Scully, call the Gunmen, find out what's going

on! Jerilyn, listen to me, whatever he's saying, it's NOT

TRUE!!"

"Mrs. Starkweather, I need your help..." As gently as he

could, he told her. "We found a burned body in the river.

He was wearing this." He held up the Ziplock baggie. "Can

you identify this ring for me?"

Starkweather looked at Mulder, looked at Carillo. She took

the Ziplock baggie and took the ring out, saw the initials

carved into it and dropped it. "Oh my God," she cried,

scooping Ben's wedding band off the ground. "NO." She

turned white. "Oh God nooooooooo..."

NO NO NO!!! Sam screamed to himself.

It's too early! They're not supposed to

find the body until three days from

now!!

"Don't worry Mrs. Starkweather," Sommerset tightned the

cuffs on Mulder's wrists. Mulder winced in pain. "We've got

the killer right here."

"What proof!" Sam demanded.

"It's all circumstantial!" Mulder, forgetting his right to

remain silent. "Doggett, get her out of here, call Scully,

call Skinner, get the Gunmen and get me out of this!

Jerilyn, listen to me, this is a setup!"

But Starkweather was glaring at Mulder, a murderous hatred

burning in her eyes for her photographic memory clicked

back on the arguement they had only twenty-four hours

earlier...

"You wanna get back for what I did to your mother... You

set me up because you want to punish me, and you're

dragging Doggett down with me. Look -- this is *OUR* fight.

No need to bring Puppy Man into this."

"I am not going to defend myself to you. Deputy Mayor may I

remind you that this is no longer your office."

Starkweather replied icily... "next time you accuse

someone, Mr. Mulder, it might not be a bad idea to make

sure your finger isn't barking up the wrong *ss."

"If you think I'm done here, you've got another thing

coming." Mulder growled...

"It's a setup alright," Starkweather hissed at Mulder. "YOU

set US up! All of us! Ben, me, Doggett, hell you even used

Scully you sick son of a b*tch!!!" She went after Mulder.

Assuming by her small stature, Carillo and Sommerset

thought she was just going to b*tch-slap Mulder, so they

made no move to stop her. Sam was the only one who really

knew how physically strong she was and he tried to grab

her, but her arm slipped out of his hands. Plus she moved

so fast, she was almost a blur. She swung her fist and

threw a round-house punch like a man. There was a sickening

crunch of breaking bone and cartilege as Mulder's knees

buckled. Sommerset pulled him back up and tried to pull him

away. Mulder kicked at Starkweather as she grabbed him by

the throat and began swearing and squeezing. "Jesus Christ,

get her off of him!!!" Sommerset yelled.

It took both Sam and Carillo to pull Starkweather off.

Mulder, blood oozing out of his nose, gasped out. "You're

making a mistake, Jerilyn! I swear, I didn't kill your

husband!"

"FUCK YOU FOX MULDER!!" She screamed hysterically as Sam

pinned her arms. She lunged, trying to get free of Sam's

grip while she continued to yell. "I'll get you for this, I

swear to God Mulder, you're going to DIE for this and I'm

going to watch!!!!"

As Sommerset lead Mulder away, Mulder continued to yell

out, "Doggett, Doggett, talk some sense into her!!! Get

Scully!!!!"

"Starkweather, c'mon..." Sam pulled Starkweather away.

Carillo tried to stop them. "I need to ask her a few

questions..."

"Hasn't she had enough today?" Sam snapped, "she just found

out her husband's dead....

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

Benjamin Starkweather opened his eyes. He felt his own

blood and sweat crusted on his face. He tried to move his

arms and discovered that they were tied behind his back.

His entire body hurt like hell.

His eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness, then he realized

that he was blindfolded. He did hear the unmistakable sound

of a cigarette lighter. "Who's there!" he yelled out.

"A friend," a smarmy voice informed him. "Mr. Starkweather,

I have some rather unfortunate news for you... your wife is

dead. She was killed, rather unfortunately."

Ben felt his heart drop to his shoes. "What happened?"

"You shouldn't have left her alone in your apartment last

night."

Ben bowed his head. "Oh God..."

"Mr. Starkweather," the man with the cigarette told him,

"I'm about to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. A

chance to avenge the death of your wife."

"What's that?"

"Come work for me..."

Back to the Future

QL HQ

"Thank God, thank God, thank YOU almighty blessed

God!" Al crowed.

"Um..." Goushie said. "Don't be too thankful... this

is just a temporary fix."

"TEMPORARY???" Al fumed. "Whaddya mean TEMPORARY!!!"

"Well, we've cleaned the virus outta Ziggy, but she's

still got bugs, like Mulder being able to see you and

Starkweather being able to hear you. Plus there's some

other things wrong..."

"Like what?"

"Like we're running on auxillary power. Like... oh... lots

of other little treats the virus left behind. We still

could potentially crash... but, on the flip side... there's

some good news..."

"What's that?"

"According to Ziggy, Ben Starkweather doesn't die anymore."

"He doesn't!!" Al crowed joyfully.

"Then why am I still here?" Doggett asked.

"Um... because he's found wandering the street with partial

amnesia... three days after Starkweather is killed and six

days after Mulder is killed."

"Aw... SHIT!!!" Al kicked the wall.

"But more good news is, I don't know what Sam did, but he

bought us some time. Mulder doesn't die tomorrow like he's

supposed but five days from now. That's two more days than

what we had originally."

"Well, la-di-da," Al said snidely as he lit another cigar.

"Do they all think back there that Ben's dead." Doggett

asked.

"Um..." Goushie squirmed. "Yeah..."

Doggett turned to Al. "You promised me to take me to

Starkweather. Take me there, now."

"Al! We can't do that!!" Goushie said. "We're running on

low power, we-" he was silenced by a cutting look from not

just Al, but Doggett too. "Okay... but make it quick..."

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

Ben and Jeri's apartment

9:17 am

Starkweather let herself into the home she shared with Ben.

Not even twelve hours ago, they had made up, made love, and

made a complete fools of eachother with another fight. Now

he was gone.

She had declined Sam-in-Doggett's offer to have him stay

with her for a bit. She stood there, alone in her living

room, looking at the photographs on the wall, their wedding

pictures, her graduation pictures, his graduation

pictures... happier times.

Caesar the Cat meowed once, as if to ask where Ben was and

leaped off the coffee table, knocking over a small box

wrapped in soft pink tissue paper, bound by a silver

ribbon.

"What did you find, kitty?" she asked as she sat on the

couch, reaching for the package. She read on the tiny card

attached:

"To my big bad FBI broad

Love, the Counselor."

Gulping back tears, she tore apart the fragile paper and

opened the box. "Ohhhh..." she exclaimed, her shoulders

slumping as she lifted out a beautiful antique silver

locket. With trembling hands, she opened the locket. Her

mouth began to work as she saw the tiny picture of her

mother holding her when she was a baby, her sweet adoptive

mother who had loved her always and forever just as she

was, never trying to make her something that she wasn't,

who died when she was only sixteen, battling a cancer that

destroyed her mind, her memory, her soul.

She had told Ben the entire story, even how she overheard a

young Fox Mulder badgering her about the possibility of her

being a multiple alien abductee right before she descended

into madness and death. Ben had only commented. "I wish I

could meet her."

Well, now you get too, Ben... Hot tears slid down her

face uncontrollably now and in the still loneliness of her

apartment, Jerilyn curled up into a ball on her sofa and

sobbed like she only did when no one was watching....

Or so she thought.

After explaining the rules to Doggett: "No talking, no

whispering, no nothing, ZIP," Al took Doggett by the hand

and got ready to open the imaging door.

"Hey, Admiral, I know we're getting along better than

before, but I think hand-holding is a little too soon in

our relationship."

"Shut up," Al sighed. "I'm not exactly enjoying this

either, but I've got to hold onto you somewhere or else you

won't be able to see." The door opened. Al re-adjusted,

grabbing Doggett by the shoulder instead of his hand.

"Let's go."

They walked in just as Jerilyn had opened the gift Ben

meant to give her last night but never did. Doggett made a

move towards her, but Al pulled him back, shaking his head

'no'.

They watched as she pulled out a beautiful sterling silver

locket, cut and marked with intricate and antique carvings,

hanging off of a heavy silver chain. Doggett watched

Jerilyn open the locket with shaking hands, watched her

clench it tight with one hand while putting the hand in the

cast to her eyes as a gut-wrenching sob escaped from her.

Al watched Doggett's own eyes tear up as Jerilyn curl up in

the fetal position on her sofa, burying her face in the

sofa cushions.

It hurt both of them to see the diminutive tough little

lady so vulnerable. Doggett reached out to touch her, to

stroke her hair and saw in horror his own hand pass through

her head as if it was smoke. "Doc, you listen to me now," he

said, his gravelly voice shaking. "You hang in there,

everything's gonna be fine, I'm still here, I'm still

watching your back, Doc,-" Suddenly Starkweather and her

apartment were gone and Doggett was in the imagining

chamber again. "What happened??"

"I cut you off," Al snapped. "I told you, no talking...

she'll think she's going insane..."

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

Meanwhile.....

At the sound of Doggett's voice, Starkweather had bolted

up. She wiped the tears off her face. "Doggett?" she called

out. She got off her couch. "Papa John...." she took a

quivery breath. "I'm losing it." She went over to her phone

and dialled. She got Doggett's voice mail and left a

message. "Papa John... it's me... I'm seriously losing my

grip on things... maybe I shouldn't be by myself, so

whenever you get this message... whenever you get a

chance... come get me... I'd appreciate it," her voice

cracked again before she hung up. "Bye," she whispered.

She went back to her couch. Caesar the cat, very unfeline-

like, came up to his mistress and licked the tears off her

face. "Good kitty," she whimpered while she began to cry

again as she stroked her cat.

Sam was numb. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

Had he changed history by trying to stop Leo? Had he set

things in motion when he chased that car? Had they spotted

him?

"Being angry at Mulder isn't going to help anyone...least

of all Ben." Sam said, not quite knowing what to say,

praying that he would get through to her.

Starkweather's eyes were dry. She couldn't cry. It hadn't

quite hit her yet...if she could be mad at that idiot

Deputy Mayor he wouldn't be *DEAD*. Her anger towards

Mulder was emotional energy she didn't have to spend on

getting past the numbness of the news she just received.

"Ben doesn't need my help anymore, Doggett." She said

icily. Then, in a voice that wasn't hers, she finished,

"He's gone, and so am I." She locked eyes with Sam for a

moment--he saw a familiar combination of Mulder and

confusion--then turned on her heel, and marched out,

slamming the door behind her.

Sam didn't want to leave her alone, but knew that she would

probably shut him out if he offered her his company. He

wondered if she even heard what she just said to him.

"Skinner?" Sam said, trying to keep his voice as steady as

possible.

"It's Doggett, Sir." Failing his attempt to keep his

professional tone.

"You alright, John?"

"You haven't heard yet?"

"Haven't heard what? Had a midnight flight back from New

York State, overslept, and I just got into my office this

morning, haven't even had a chance to check the newspaper."

"You won't have to check the newspapers...I'll tell you

what's on the front page right now...the main headline is

Deputy Mayor of DC Arrested for Murder."

There was a beat of silence.

"They found blood in his car, and a wallet." Sam reported,

still disbelieving.

"Belonging to whom." Skinner finally managed to croak out.

"Ben Starkweather."

"That little shit deserved it." Skinner growled under his

breath. "How can they arre--"

Sam was way ahead of him. "They've got kids who can testify

a body was dumped into the Patomac from a car matching the

description of Mulder's within a reasonable time frame from

when the blood was left in the trunk."

"Since when do they trust the testimony of punk kids?"

Skinner growled under his breath, "How's Starkweather

holding up?"

"She's still in shock." So am I "Mulder came down

here...I think to make sure she was alright...and that's

when they arrested him. She punched him in the jaw calling

him every name in the book."

"Doggett, I'll get Kimberly to cancel my morning

appointments. I want you up here so we can go over the

evidence, and when forensics is through, I want Scully up

here. We are going through everything with a fine-toothed

comb."

The elevator ride up to Skinner's office seemed to last an

eternity. He couldn't understand why this was happening

*now*...*then*...or whenever it happened to be...time

references are all screwed up for time travelers. He didn't

wait for Kimberly to announce his presence. She was too

busy on the phone, trying to smooth over broken

commitments.

"Maybe this all wouldn't have happened if I hadn't hired

Starkweather." Skinner muttered as soon as Sam closed the

door.

"Playing what-if games isn't going to help any of us, Sir."

Sam said, taking a seat in front of Skinner's desk. "She's

proven to be an assett to my division. She was willing to

risk her home life for both Mulder and me, and I think she

would have had this not happened. I'm afraid *I* am the one

to blame for that."

"What the hell gave you that idea?" Skinner demanded.

"I did some checking," Sam began cautiously, "and an

attorney named Justin Leo seemed to have the only solid

connection to his case. I went to his residence for

questioning, and found substantial evidence that lead me to

believe he was planning to murder someone. I tied him up

for prevention. On my way home, I happened upon the same

dark four-door sedan I saw at the warehouse dumping a body

in the Patomac. They might have seen me without my

knowledge."

"Doggett, that's a lead...it *doesn't* make you responsible

for Mulder's arrest. If anything, that may redeem him.

There's gotta be something in here. I am not going to sit

idly by and watch him be destroyed. Not again."

"I happen to know Ben isn't dead." Al's voice came from

behind him

Sam spun around in his chair.

"What do you mean he isn't dead?!" Sam hissed.

"What do you mean *who* isn't dead...Doggett...I know

you've been under a helluva lot of stress lately..."

"Ben...Ben Starkweather isn't dead yet." Sam answered

flatly.

"How do you know?"

"I can't tell you yet." Sam said plainly.

"Christ, John, I expect the runaround from Mulder, but not

from you." Skinner snapped back.

"Jeri's finally starting to loose it, Sam. The whole

situation finally dawned on her. I'm gonna go keep an eye

on Dana while you guys are busy with this." Al reported

"You think the DD is on it?" Skinner asked quietly.

"It's hard to say, Sir." Sam said, cautious of who might be

listening.

Just then, Kimberly popped her head in. "Sir, I didn't want

to interrupt, but I couldn't cancel your 11 meeting. It's

with the Deputy Director."

"Thanks." Then turning to Doggett, "Check back with me if

you find anything. That'll be all, Agent." Skinner said

crisply, and Sam took his leave.

Sam didn't know Starkweather that well...he wanted to be

there for her. He was about to head down to his office and

get his coat to leave when he found Starkweather's message

on Doggett's e-mail. He knew Al was with Scully at the

moment, so she wasn't completely alone. He felt better

about that.

"I can't BELIEVE those DICKS suspected me for two fucking

minutes, Doggett." She hissed incredulously. Her eyes were

dry but puffy and red still.

"Well, speaking from experience here, sometimes our job

means pulling at whatever straws are there." Lord knows he

had to do that enough times as a time-traveler.

"We made up." She admitted softly. "We made up when I came

home last night, and then...afterwards...he got a call from

some chick with a breathy Russian accent. I know, because I

picked up the extension in the bedroom. I went out to

confront him about it, telling him I wouldn't let him go by

himself; then the fucker used a helluva stall tactic...he

actually told me some cockshit theory about that fucker who

killed him and me being related. Then," her lips began to

quiver now, "I let him go." Then her body started to quake

with sobs again, and Sam didn't resist the impulse this

time to pull her close to him, letting her go.

"Just let it go, Jerilyn..."

"Goddammit..." she said, shouting now, "the worst part

about this whole fucking thing is that I was going to get

out of the x-files after this case. He didn't want me to be

in the FBI because he didn't want me to die on the job...I

didn't think for one minute that I would be the one to

outlive him."

"I know...I know..." Sam said softly. He wanted more than

anything to tell her he wasn't dead yet, but knew she just

needed him to be solid and strong. Bringing someone back

from the grave isn't exactly the best way to show someone

you're stable.

He stayed with her for a few more hours until she sobbed

herself to sleep, just letting her cry.

He decided to check on her again in a few hours, but now,

he needed to go over to Scully's. He needed her

professional opinion as much as he needed to know she was

alright.

Scully didn't look as though she had spent any fresh tears

at all when Sam came to her door. Al was still waiting for

him there.

"You look like hell, Sam." Al commented.

"Just help yourself to some coffee, Doggett," Scully was

saying, picking Will up from his high-chair. "Take a seat

on the couch for a sec, I gotta put Will down for his nap."

"How did Ziggy find out that Ben's not dead?"

"I dunno, Sam, you musta changed history somehow, because

the police reports change. Somehow, the body dumped in the

river was discovered not to be Ben's."

"I tied up Leo, Al. He looked like he was getting ready to

do something, and I tied him up. I interviewed some kids,

and they said they saw the same sedan that we saw in the

warehouse drive up to Leo's house, and then on my way home,

I saw the sedan dump a body into the river."

"So all we gotta do is find out where Ben is, and we're

homefree!" Al exclaimed, tapping a few keys on the

handlink. "I think Scully's coming, since we've got bugs in

the system still, I better vamoos. Be careful."

"How's Starkweather handling all of this?" Scully asked as

she came through the hall. She had a look of complete

confusion on her face. "I think I need to talk to more

adults besides Mulder...I'm hearing voices..."

"Starkweather's as well as to be suspected." Sam said

releasing a heavy sigh as he handed her the photocopies. "I

brought you the police reports, thought you might wanna

look them over."

"I want to do the autopsy on the body they found." Scully

said, perusing the papers.

"90 % of the body is burned, Scully."

"I know...I still want to do the autopsy." She persisted.

"The coroner has already performed the official

autopsy...there's nothing we can do about that at this

point."

"Don't give me that, Doggett. We've gotta do something. I

can't put "my finger on it, but something about this report

doesn't mesh."

"We'll find it, then we can go after the people who did

this."

"Doggett...I hate to bring this up in your face," Scully

said coldly, "but the last time you said something like

that was not long before Mulder's funeral. Don't make me

promises you d*mn well know you can't keep." She looked

around, wishing she had a glass of water to splash in his

face.

"Scully, I--" Sam said in a pained tone, but didn't know

how else to finish to make her believe he fully intended to

keep that promise.

"I'm sorry. Doggett..." She apologized, "I didn't mean

that...I just..."

"Yes, you did." Sam said plainly. "Just what?"

"Just forget it, alright..." She proceeded to pick up baby

toys that were lying in the floor.

"No, look..it's ok...I know you're angry...so am I. Finish

what you started."

Scully couldn't even face Doggett. "I can't let him down

again." She pretended to be cleaning the kitchen as she

spoke.

"What do you mean, 'let him down'?"

"I let Mulder down once, and it cost him his life...if it

wasn't for Will being on the way, I think it would have

destroyed me. I don't know what would happen if I watched

him be destroyed again. I'm worried for Will."

"I know, but I can't help but see that there's something

else more at stake here." He wasn't lying. Sam knew there

was a lot more at stake with Mulder's arrest.

"Doggett...you don't understand..."

"You're right...I don't...enlighten me."

"Mulder is one of the most aggravating people I've ever

met."

"I know..."

"He is a jack-ass about 60% of the time."

"That's not exactly what I'd call an enlightened

statement." Sam said wryly.

Scully smiled sheepishly. "I joined the x-files office

eight years ago not really sure what to expect of "Spooky"

Mulder. I spent the greater part of my eight years with him

making a point of proving him wrong. Somewhere along the

way, between the freaks of nature and aliens and things

that go bump in the night, I realized that his quest had

become mine...and if we found the truth, that's all I

needed to make my life meaningful." She

hesitated and let out a ragged sigh, "Then he gave me

Will...something I never in my wildest dreams thought I

could have...and meaning and fulfillment I never thought

possible." She buried her face in her hands, and her body

finally started to allow her to sob. "God, Doggett...I

don't know what I'm gonna do if he looses his freedom. I

don't want Will to grow up without his Dad."

"You will keep plugging away at the Truth he started," Sam

began cautiously, placing an assuring hand on her shoulder.

"But I don't think that'll be necessary. I've got lots of

outside help working around the clock on this. I *am*

keeping this promise to you, Scully. I'm going to do all I

can to make sure nothing happens to him. So are a lot of

other people." With that, he decided to take his leave and

check on Starkweather.

Meanwhile...

back at the warehouse...

"Work for you?" Ben was completely confused. "Work how?"

"There are governmental forces at hand working on a grand

scale conspiracy. Your wife unwittingly played a small part

in it and was eliminated for her efforts."

"The phone call... the note..." Ben said slowly. "It was

all a ruse to get me out of the house last night, wasn't

it?"

"I'm afraid so. Mr. Starkweather," CSM placed a cigarette

in Ben's mouth and lit it. Ben inhaled gratefully. CSM took

the cigarette out of his mouth and Ben exhaled, blowing

great plumes of smoke. "I am a powerful man. I can stop

what our government is doing."

"What are they doing?"

"Killing people who get in their way. People like your

wife."

"What was she doing that she had to be killed?" Ben felt

his heart being torn to shreds.

"She went to work for the X-Files," CSM said gently,

puffing on the cigarette he lit for Ben.

Ben hung his head. "I don't believe you," he admitted

slowly.

"Understandable. But let me tell you this, the people who

killed your wife are coming after you. We had to stage your

little kidnapping to throw dust in their eyes. You'll

accept my apologies, won't you?"

"Kind of hard to accept your apology while I'm still tied

up like a prisoner."

"Of course," CSM took off the blindfold. "Your feet aren't

bound, follow me." Ben, followed the Cancer Man towards a

fairly large, unused restroom. CSM turned on the light,

nearly blinding him. Ben saw a small cot, a smaller table

with a pitcher of water, a glass, a pack of cigarettes,

matches and a plate of sandwiches and fruit. There was a

grimey toilet in the corner and a rusted out sink.

"I do apologize for the accommodations, CSM said. "But you

need to stay here for a while for your own safety until we

deal with the men who murdered your wife." He gently pushed

Ben inside.

"How do I even know you're telling me the truth about

Jerilyn?" he demanded as the CSM untied his hands.

"I'll bring you proof then," CSM said before hitting him

hard o the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.

He left Ben's new cell and shut the door tight, locking it.

He turned to Covarubias who had been watching the entire

time, holding a loaded gun. "Keeping alive is dangerous,"

she seethed.

He glared at her. "He has information about the oil rig,

information we need. Plus, if he decides to join us... he

could be useful. The Admiral said he was a bright boy. And

if not... we'll dispose of him once Mulder and Starkweather

are eliminated." He approached Covarubias and took her gun

away from her. Cupping her narrow chin in his free hand, he

said, "You and Krycek should have never tried to trifle

with me. Krycek paid the ultimate price... you... have a

chance to redeem yourself." He walked away, saying "No one

touches Ben Starkweather without my express permission."

Marita Covarubias glared at him, hatred simmering in her

blue eyes.

DC Jail

11:24am

Mulder was beyond pissed about the whole situation. He

couldn't end it all here. Too many people had risked their

careers...lives...for him to end it all here.

He was rotting in jail for something he knew he didn't do,

and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. There

wasn't even a trashcan to kick around this time, so he had

to make do with his pillow.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you. You might want it later,

and they won't getchya a extra."

"I'll, keep that in mind." He said, not even looking at who

had spoken to him, accentuating each word with an emphatic

punch, and keeping it up until there was nothing left of

the pillow but shreds.

"Jesus Christ, hombre, who you got in there?"

"Aliens." He said simply with a sloppy grin on his face,

waiting for his reaction. For the first time, he saw his

cell mate. He was a short, scrappy man with caramel skin.

"And you a regular criminal? Keep talking like that, and

they'll give you a single, keep ya all drugged up. I been

here two weeks now, I think. They're needle happy in this

joint." The man said, climbing down from his top bunk and

taking a sip from the fountain.

"Thanks for the tip...whatchya in for?"

"Illegal alien." He extended a finger-tipless gloved hand

in greeting. "Manny Ibarra. You?"

"Fox Mulder...murder one." he answered, hesitantly taking

the handshake.

"I don't understand what you're still doing in the county

jail then, they shouldda put you in the state penn."

"They're going to as soon as my trial is over with. I'm

waiting for a judge to set bail later on today."

"All I gotta say is, I'm glad I'm not that pillow."

"Don't worry Manny, the pillow was a different kind of

alien. You've got nothing to worry about."

"So you were pretending that was a Canuck?"

"Uh-uh..." Mulder said, shaking his head, "a little gray

man."

"GAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!" Manny

shouted at the top of his lungs.

The warehouse

11:42 am

Ben slowly came too. His head hurt like hell. With a groan,

he forced himself to stand up but was hit with a bout of

vertigo so he sat down on the rickety cot.

Dizzy, he tried to make some sort of sense of what was

going on. He was being held prisoner... but the strange man

with the cigarettes told him it was for his own protection.

Jerilyn was dead. He had followed a lead, but it was a

trick to get him out of the house. Jerilyn had told him,

begged him not to go, but she was worried about his safety,

not hers. Jerilyn was dead. She never worried about her

life. Ben sometimes wondered if she thought she was

immortal. She had given him her gun, but he never got a

chance to use it for the kidnapping happened so brutally

fast. Jerilyn was dead, was dead, was dead, was...

"NO," he said aloud. "I don't believe it... I won't believe

it... if I believe it... I will go f*cking insane... she

CAN'T be dead... she's too mean to be dead..." he ran his

dirty fingers through his head and tried to breath, tried

to calm down.

Something wasn't adding up right. His instincts were

telling him not to trust the Smoking Man. He tried to piece

together was Jerilyn was trying to tell him after the third

epic war they fought after he dropped the bombshell on

Skinner that he was ordering the release of the oil rig X-

File into public domain.

"Think, Ben, think..." he muttered to himself. But he

couldn't. His body was in one giant knot of stress and

pain. He felt nauseous. With shaking hands he reached for

the cigarettes and matches the Smoking Man had so

thoughtfully left for him. But one drag only added to the

sickening feeling in his stomach so he threw the cigarette

in the sink and hauled himself to the toilet where he was

wretchedly ill.

Clinging to the porcelain god, he threw up until there was

nothing but dry-heaves. He slumped to the floor and leaned

against the wall.

One thing he knew for sure... he was a dead man the longer

he stayed.

"Oh Christ..." he groaned. Then, in complete frustration

and heartache he yelled aloud "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!!!!"

He covered his face and spoke to himself. "Jerilyn... when

I see you again... you're going to give me the biggest 'I

told you so' in the world, aren't you..." He crawled back

up on the cot while repeating a mantra to himself: "She's

not dead, she's not dead, she's not dead, she's not

dead..."

It was the only thing he could think of to do to stave off

madness....

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

Meanwhile...

Ben and Jeri's apartment

Jerilyn woke up with a start, heart pounding in her chest,

covered with sweat. Shivering, despite the heat, she pulled

the afaghan quilt around her. Maybe I'm having a bad

dream she thought even though she knew she was only lying

to herself.

She stared at the phone, knowing that she should probably

call Luke and Linda Starkweather, Ben's parents, with the

bad news. But she only stared at the phone, not being able

to bring herself to do it. The longer she put off calling

her in-laws, the longer their son was alive for them.

And he's dead because of me... Jerilyn could not stop

beating herself up, could not shed herself of the guilt

that lay so heavy in her heart. If I had only followed my

gut, if I had only gone with... if I had not been so damn

ambitious and jumped the gun to come out to DC with the

first job offer from the FBI... if I had waited until

something would have come open at Quantico...

But even in her guilt, she knew she wasn't going to quit

the X-Files. Not now.

If Samantha had been Mulder's quest, then Ben was going to

be hers.

Mulder... Starkweather's eyes narrowed into catlike slits

when she even thought of his name. "I'm going to watch him

BURN for this..." she promised herself aloud.

But, because she was always coldly, brutally honest with

herself, her alter-ego asked her bruised and hurting ego:

Do you REALLY think Mulder did it?

"All the evidence points to him." she said aloud as she

thought: It's all circumstantial and you know that.

"He's capable of murder, he's killed people before," she

sneered aloud to herself.

So have you, in the line of duty, like he has her

common sense reminded her.

"I fucking hate him," she said bitterly, staring with

teary-eyes at her wedding ring.

Then hate him for something that he DID do Still, her

reason tried to overpower her emotions.

"Why the hell shouldn't I believe that he did it?" her

heart cried out.

Would Scully stay with him so long if he was that kind of

a man?

That got her. As much as she loathed Mulder, she admired

Scully. Scully was no fool. Scully didn't knuckle

underneath anybody.

Okay, Starkweather she told herself as she started to

build up walls around her broken heart. Stop thinking

like a pathetic widow and start thinking like a goddamn FBI

agent. Get the evidence, separate fact from fiction, logic

from emotion. Get your poop in a group and get to work. If

Mulder is innocent, fine. If he's not, fry him. But get the

facts straight first. And first things first, get inside

Mulder's head.

Although her expertise in the X-Files was forensics, she

knew she was being groomed to take over for Scully when

Scully was ready to leave, she also had experience as a

profiler. The X-Files gave her freedom to explore her

profiling skills and she had to admit, she was getting

pretty good at it. She went to the phone but she did not

call Ben's parents. She called Skinner's secretary.

"Kimberly, hi, this is Agent Starkweather," Starkweather

listened to Kimberly offer her condolences. "Actually, yes,

there is something you can do. I need every scrape of

information on Fox Mulder, from when he was an acne-ridden

teenager in high school up to present day... yes, I said

everything... and compress it into a ZIP file and email it

to me at home. Skinner will give you clearance. Tell him

I'm playing profiler-for-a-day and I'm trying to figure out

what the fuck is really going on. Thanks."

Two hours later, Starkweather was deep into the files of

Fox Mulder's life history, up to the point of his

transcripts from Oxford when there was a knock on her door.

She got up and let Sam in.

Sam followed Starkweather into the spare bedroom that she

and Ben had converted into an office. "How are you doing,

Starkweather?" Sam asked cautiously as she sat down in

front of the computer.

"I've had better days," she said grimly.

"Yeah... well..." Sam said awkwardly. "What are you doing?"

"Going through Mulder's records." She said, gnawing on a

pen cap. "I've been trying to get inside of Mulder's

head..."

"How's the view?"

"Scary." Starkweather let out a big sigh. "He is one

paranoid mo-fo."

Sam chuckled. "That's one way of putting it." Carefully, he

asked, "But do you think he's a killer?"

Starkweather rubbed her eyes and propped her chin in her

hands, "He is capable of murder... but that doesn't jive

with the profile I'm getting from him... Mulder is very

paranoid... especially about our fine government... he's

almost an anarchist... the only thing that keeps him

grounded is his thrist for the truth. Mulder isn't the type

of guy who sweeps things under the rug to save his own

ass... I don't... god, what I put together... he just

WOULDN'T do this... he wouldn't... dammit!!" she pounded

the desk with both fists. "All the evidence points to

him... but..."

Sam put his hands on her shoulders, "You don't want to

believe..."

Starkweather said "Look... Doggett, you were a cop before

all of this... would you have slapped the cuffs on the

Deputy Mayor on circumstantial evidence? We've got the word

of some junkie kids and second-rate car thieves... the

thieves who changed their stories from a cigarette smoking

man hiring them to kill him to the Deputy Mayor. Something

stinks in Denmark..."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "You think Mulder is

innocent then."

Starkweather sighed, but it was a sigh of resignation.

"Well, he's NOT an innocent man... but I think he's

innocent of this... I'm beginning to think Mulder just

pisses people off wherever he goes... myself included...

Doggett... I think I'm getting as paranoid as Mulder... I'm

beginning to think there's something way way bigger going

on... and that we're all just getting used..."

"Based on...?"

Starkweather groaned. "That's the problem. It's based on my

sad profile on Mulder. I have nothing else."

"It's something." Sam turned Starkweather around in her

desk chair. He stared down intently at her, holding her

hands. "So will you help us clear Mulder's name?"

"I will help as my conscience dictates," Starkweather said

slowly. "If my work clears Mulder's name, fine. Great,

wonderful. Peachy-keen. If not... I'm bringing him down."

"Fair enough..." Sam said, kneeling down. "It's the least

you could do. I mean..." Sam couldn't help but smile wryly.

"You broke the man's nose."

Now Starkweather couldn't help but smile. "Ben always said

I was going to hurt someone with my temper someday..." she

took one of her hands out of Sam's to cover her mouth. She

squeezed her eyes shut.

"Aw, honey..." Sam said, clasping her hand in the cast with

both of his hands.

"Don't get sappy," she said in a shaking voice. "I'm trying

not to be."

"Starkweather," Sam said softly. "You don't have to be so

tough all the time."

"Yes I do," her voice cracked. "It's all I have left now...

just being a..." she started to sniffle "... a big, bad FBI

broad... oh Christ..." she whimpered. "I don't even have

the balls to call his parents to tell them the news... and

Ben always thought that I was so strong... Jesus... what a

joke..."

"Starkweather, you just hang in there. I promise you," Sam

said, "I'm going to make this right..."

Starkweather pulled herself together. "I need coffee. Do

you want some?"

"Sure." Sam said as Starkweather pulled herself away from

him and left the room. He then noticed a fat, orange lap

cat crawl out from underneath the desk. "Hi kitty," he said

affably.

Caesar spat and hissed at him before streaking out of the

room.

"That's why I'm a dog person." Sam mumbled as he went to

the kitchen and sat at the tiny little table.

Starkweather started to brew coffee. She opened the fridge.

"Um... I'd offer you food, but looks like we don't have

any."

"It's okay," Sam said, momentarily puzzled by her sudden

Dorothy-Domestic hospitality mode. Then he realized she was

trying to keep busy, to keep her mind off of her sorrow.

But Ben isn't dead!!! he wanted to scream at her, hold

her tight, smooth her pretty hair, tell her everything was

going to be alright... that he would never forget her, no

matter how Swiss-cheesed his memory may become in future

leaps. But all he said was "Do you want me to call Ben's

parents?"

She was quiet for a moment. "No..." she said slowly. "No...

I need to be a big girl and do it myself." She opened the

cupboards and grabbed a can of Nine Lives cat food. As she

opened the can, she called out. "Caesar!! Here

kittykittykittykittykittykittykittykitty!!"

Caesar stole into the kitchen and wound himself around her

legs. She dumped the cat food in his dish and he dove in

with relish.

Sam said, apropos of nothing, "Your cat hates me."

"My cat hates everybody." Starkweather poured coffee into

two mugs, dumped heaps of sugar into one for her, but

served Sam's to him black. Sam was about to object but shut

his mouth in time to realize that Doggett probably wasn't

the cream-and-sugar type.

"Thanks," he said.

"Actually," she said, her tone growing softer, "Caesar was

my engagement ring. I've always loved cats, always had at

least one or two of them around the house when I was

growing up. Being a military brat, my pets were my

security, my sense of familiarity. Of home. I was really

bummed when I left for the Air Force because I lived on

base the entire time I was Active and so... no pets. When I

went Guard, I was commuting from Iowa City, where I was

doing Med School at UNI, to the 132nd in Des Moines, where

I met Ben. When things got serious, he asked me what kind

of a ring I would like. I knew that he was broke... going

to law school at Drake and all... I told him to save his

money and we'd get a ring when we'd get on our feet.

Well... Ben got a hold of my dad and asked him permission

to marry me... and in lieu of a ring... what should I get

her instead? Dad told him a cat. So Ben went to the animal

shelter and adopted Caesar. Because my apartment didn't

allow pets, Caesar lived with Ben until I finished Med

School and moved in with Ben in Des Moines. Once I was in

with Ben and helping him out with bills, he scraped up

enough money to get me this..." She looked at her simple

diamond solitaire with bright eyes, but did not weep. "I

have a wedding band... but I don't wear it and we never had

the money to get it soldered onto my engagement ring..."

Starkweather continued, confiding as she only would to a

best friend, which Sam realized, with confusing sensations

of jealousy, is how she viewed Doggett. he mused as he

listened to her.

"Do you know how shitty I feel right now? Four nights ago,

I was at your house, talking about drawing up divorce

papers and now he's gone. Forever... I can't... if..." she

gulped, "the body is as badly burned as the cops say it is,

it's going to have to be closed-casket... I won't ever see

him again..."

Sam said firmly, "Starkweather, you can not start blaming

yourself for this."

"Doggett," she insisted. "You don't understand. Four nights

ago... hell... LAST NIGHT... I would have paid money to get

Ben out of my life... I was TIRED of being married. I was

tired of having to justify my actions to him. Tired of

being pressured to settle down, plunk out a couple of kids,

get the house in Suburbia with the rose bushes and the

white picket fence. We were ALWAYS fighting. And not just

about me in the FBI and that damn case... but everything.

We fought about everything. About settling down. About

money. I used up my GI Bill by the time I got to med

school, so I'm struggling with those payments plus I'm

still paying for my training at Quantico. Plus Ben and I

racked up a pretty heavy duty credit card debt when we were

planning our wedding.. to the tune of over three-grand."

Sam whistled. She went on, "Yeah. So we've got that. Plus

Ben's paying off law school and then there's the whole cost

of living thing... as good hearted Ben is... was... don't

kid yourself Doggett. He took the case because of the

money. He was going to make over a $100 per hour."

"Wow... I am in the wrong business."

"You and me both, brother," Starkweather said. "But there

were just other things too... stupid sh*t like... well,

he's SUCH a slob. I come home after a long ass day and the

apartment's trashed out... plus he would make plans and

just assume that I would want to come with. Not ask me,

just say "Oh, Jeri by the way, I told so-and-so that we'd

meet them for dinner..." and I wouldn't want to go and he'd

get mad and... god...I wish I could just pinpoint where

things went wrong and go back in time and fix

everything..."

"That might be possible someday," Sam said gently.

Starkweather sniffed. "If I could go back in time... I

probably wouldn't have married Ben and he'd still be alive.

I love him but I shouldn't have married him... that would

have fix everything."

"Starkweather, beating yourself up is not going to solve

this." Sam told her gently. "Guilt is not an effective tool

in crime-solving."

"But it sure is a powerful motivator. I owe Ben at least

this. I denied him everything else. Kids, family life...

hell, I knew he's been miserable here in DC ever since we

moved here. He would have been so much happier if we stayed

in Minneapolis near his family but... he put my happiness

in front of his... look what it got him." She looked up to

her ceiling and yelled, "BEN, YOU DUMB SH*T!!!" She looked

back at Sam. "You know what the sick thing is though?"

"What?"

Starkweather shook her head, "If, by some miracle, Ben

walked through those doors... nothing would change. I'd

still be off being the 'big bad FBI broad' and Ben would

still resent me for it." She put her elbow on the table and

rested her forehead against her palm. "I wish I could say

that I would change my sinful ways and everything with me

and Ben would be bright and sunny and we'd skip off into

the sunset together... but that would be a lie. I know me

too well." She dropped her hand into her lap and stared at

Sam with her big hazel doe-eyes. "Terrible, isn't it?"

"No," Sam assured her. "It's very honest. Most people have

a hard time being truthful with themselves, especially

about their faults and failings. The key is whether or not

you want to work on your..." he scrambled for the right

words "lack of desire to be a tradional wife for Ben."

Now the doe-eyes became feline again, eyeing Sam warily.

"Doggett, you're talking as if Ben's still alive..."

Sam groaned, realizing his slip up. "Well..." he said

carefully. "We all thought Mulder is dead."

Starkweather glared at him. "Earth to Doggett, come in

Doggett. We've got the body. It was showing no vitals

whatsoever." She bowed her head. "Don't give me false hope,

this is hard enough as is."

The phone rang. Starkweather got up to answer, "Hello?....

oh.... crap... I totally forget... Can I reschedule?

I've... I've had a death in the family, I just... no, on

second thought, I don't want to reschedule. I'll be there

as soon as possible. Thank you." She hung up. "I've got to

go. I completely forgot I had my doctor's appointment to

get this thing-" she raised her wrist that was in a cast

"off of me."

But during Starkweather's phone conversation, Sam was hit

by a brainstorm. "Scully!" he said aloud.

"What?"

"After you get your cast off, come over to Scully's place."

Starkweather hesitated. "That might not be a good idea...

like you said... I just broke Mulder's nose this

morning..."

"You know, Scully once shot Mulder in the left shoulder?"

Sam said.

"Really?" Starkweather couldn't help but grin a little.

"Cool."

"So I think she'll understand or at least forgive." Sam got

up to leave. "Just come over to Scully's as soon as you're

done at the hospital. I just had an idea that may shed some

light on everything."

"What?"

"I'll tell you when you get there," Sam insisted. "I've got

to talk to Scully first."

"Tell her I'm really sorry about punching him out, but at

least I didn't shoot him."

"I will," Sam went to the door.

"Hey, Papa John?"

Sam turned at the sound of Doggett's pet name. "Yeah?"

She had the ghost of a smile on her pale lips. "Thanks for

sticking with me on this."

Sam came back and hugged her. Since Starkweather has had

very minimal physical contact with Doggett, she was taken

aback by Sam's expansiveness. "Whoa... down, boy," she

said.

"Sorry," he said, breaking away, but smoothing a strand of

hair out of her face. "It just looked like you need that."

Even in the pits of absolute misery, Starkweather's sarcasm

always bubbled forth. "Awww... Doggett... have you been

listening to those Male Sensitivity 101 tapes again?"

Sam smiled. "Something like that. Meet me at Scully's?" She

nodded and said okay. With that, Sam left, promising

himself he was going to bring Ben back to her. Even though

it was going to break everyone's heart, including his own.



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

Autopsy Room Two

Quantico, VA

Scully, donned in surgical greens, pulled down the

microphone. "The subject is Benjamin Lucas Starkweather,

white, thirty-one year old male... on topical examination,

it appears that Mr. Starkweather died due to third-degree

burns covering 90 percent of the subjects body... also on

topical examination, there is also evidence of tissue

damage due to being submerged underwater for a short period

of time... however I will conduct a full autopsy to either

confirm or disprove my initial theory on cause of death. I

am starting the autopsy with the head and throat... looking

for possible foul play. Strangulation. Possible poisoning

prior to death. " Scully got her scalpel and poised over

the body's face. She paused, looked sadly at the remains.

Remains... a woman's husband reduced to remains

Al breezed through the chamber door, and began barking

orders, oblivious to the fact that the project computer

specialist was doing a delicate balancing act with a mother

board and a toolbox.

"Goushie! I want anything you can get...job and med

history, grocery lists, favorite TV shows, favorite

Backstreet Boy on somebody named Justin Leo, SSN 138-99-

2568 PRONTO! We had a major situation back there.

Verbeena," he said, turning to a very ragged Project

psychologist, "I want you to round up all the slicers and

dicers we got...I need forensics to go through the autopsy

reports with a fine-tooth comb looking for any

discrepancies. Tina," he said, I want every possible

scenario with this Billy Miles guy. Time ain't a luxury!"

He spat, and went into the waiting room, collapsing into

the chair behind his desk.

"Admiral, I've been looking at these police reports, and

there's nothing solid to convict 'im on. It's all

circumstantial evidence...there's no real proof here.

There's no corroborating testimony for Mulder's whereabouts

except for Scully's saying she..." here, his jaw dropped,

"was with him that night."

Al nodded. "Before we hafta mop your tongue off the floor,

between you and me, Doggett, Scully and Mulder had a thing

for each other years ago, but either couldn't tell the

other their feelings until...as far as I can figure...just

before he was abducted."

"Goddammit Al...Mulder's a jack-ass, but he's no murderer.

I know he wouldn't kill anybody unless it was in the line

of duty. Tell your friend Becket that if Mulder needs a

lawyer I got a friend back home in Georgia named Matlock.

He's a bit expensive and beats around the bush worse than

Columbo, but with a case this strong, I bet he would come

outta retirement."

"Thanks, Doggett...but now, Ziggy's saying Mulder doesn't

even go to trial. If we don't do something fast, history's

gonna repeat itself. How'd you figure with Mulder and

Scully?"

"I'm not blind, Admiral...I think I figured out that soap-

opera plot the day Scully threw water in my face. I'm just

shocked she admitted it. What I don't get is how they got a

warrant passed. Whatever got 'em to pass the buck on that,

I ain't buyin'."

"What do you know of the syndicate?"

"A former conspiracy outfit that ended with the deaths of

an anonymous Smoking Man and a former FBI agent named Alex

Krycek." Al shook his head slowly.

"Not former."

"You have *got* to be shittin' me, Al...I saw Krycek's

body!"

"It' ain't Ratboy...it's Old Smokey...he's back."

"I didn't think that sonuvabitch had any lives left."

"You think there's someone workin' inside the police

department?" Al posed, making a face as he took a long

draught of strong, bitter coffee.

"Damn possible."

The face was badly burned. The lips and nose were nothing

more but a gooey mishmash of fried flesh. The right hand

was burned onto the face, covering the other face, in a

self-defensive movement. One eyelid was fused shut. Scully

carefully cut the hand after from the face, grimacing at

the noise of crusty flesh breaking apart. The other eyelid

was half-open, the eye itself blue and staring, looked up

at Scully.

Scully stared at the eye, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

She put the scalpel down and went to the thick police file

on the counter. She flipped it open and stared at the crime

photographs. "On re-examination of the crime scene

pictures, when the subject was recovered from the river, it

was in a garbage sack. The right hand was covering the

upper potion of the face, as if warding off an attack." She

looked at the picture of Ben Starkweather the police used

to ask Mulder if he "knew this man."

"Oh my God!" Scully exclaimed. She looked at the body

again, looked at the picture.

In the photograph, Ben, very clearly had brown eyes. The

body's one open staring eye was blue.

Scully ran for her phone and dialed.

"Detective Carillo."

Scully stopped. "Sorry, wrong number," she muttered as she

hung up. She re-dialed.

"Assistant Director Skinner."

"Sir, it's me. I need to talk to you. I need to talk to

someone that I can trust. I think I have proof that Mulder

is being set up."

"Don't say anything more. Come here, quickly." Skinner hung

up.

Scully took out her digital camera, took pictures of the

body's face and eye, put the camera back in the bag and

called Quantico's assistant coroner. "Can you finish this

autopsy, something's come up, I need take care of my son."

She smiled. As much as she loved her son... she had to

admit, he made a great excuse for a quick getaway.

What we need," Scully said, putting Will down in the

playpen, is to get some connection between this murder and

the oil rig."

"I wish I could get you clearence into something that would

help, Scully...but I honestly don't know what to tell

you..."

"I used to know Admiral Bailey from when our families would

spend the summers on Martha's Vineyard. I did some digging

and found out that he's taken some recent flights there."

"You think he's hiding something at the vacation house?"

Skinner finished.

"It's very possible...could you get me a warrant for

searching the premesis?"

"I'll do what I can...but remember if Kersh is in on this,

he may be hesitant to issue permission to search."

"We've got other avenues besides Kersh, Sir...I think if we

can get into that house, we can find the proof we're

looking for."

"I have no intentions of transferring Starkweather, Scully,

but I may relocate her to a new division. She's against its

senior member because of your ties to the founder...it's

obstructing the case."

"Sir, I think she'll understand once we bring evidence to

light that Mulder isn't guilty and I don't think there'll

be a need to transfer her. She's good for the x-files."

"I'll trust your judgment on that. If I'm going to get

that search warrant issued, I'd better hurry before

everyone goes home for the night."

"Thank you for all your help on this, Sir."

"Scully, off the record, I've got too much invested in you,

Mulder, and that damn basement office to sit back and watch

it all go down the drain now...it's as much my fight as it

is yours. I have a warrant to get...and you..." he said

looking from Will to Scully, "have some a--" he stopped

himself, "I mean, uh...you know what I mean....Call me when

you find something. Be careful. That's an order."

"Don't worry, I will." Scully said, ushering him out the

door. She turned on her computer, and booked the first

flight the next day with the FBI credit card to Martha's

Vineyard.

D.C. County Jail

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

"Mulder, you've got a visitor" The gaurd yelled, upset.

"Your attorney's here.

"Attorney? I don't have an attorney..." Mulder's nose

crinkled in confusion as his mind reeled through any

possibility.

"The law fairy," the guard grumbled.

"I guess in this profession you gotta keep a sense of

humor, huh?" Mulder mumbled, and was lead into a room with

tables split between cages.

At one of the cages, waiting for Mulder's arrival was a

young man with sandy hair and a thin smile, that, for now,

had a small bandage over it.

"I'm with the lawfirm of Carter, Spangle and Adams,

Mr. Mulder. I read about your case and have heard a quite a

bit about you. Just from glancing over the police and autopsy

reports, I can see that most of the pile of evidence against

you is a bunch of circumstantial crap.

I think we can build a good case toward proving your

innocence."

"I heard lots of lawyer jokes, but never actually thought

somebody would rough one up," Mulder said eyeing the man's nasty cut

on his head. "What happened?" Mulder asked,

taking a seat on the opposite side of the gate.

"I got into a little rough-and-tumble with my brother,

nothing to worry about." The man lied. Mulder knew he lied,

but was careful to conceal his observation. For now.

"I appreciate your help, of course, Councilor, but I'm not

quite sure I can trust your intentions. There are lot of

questions I need answers for...like...your name, for

one...and your credentials."

"I graduated from Virginia State University Law School, and

set up my own practice. I want to help you for lots of

reasons. One of the biggest is that I'm a new lawyer and

need the publicity..."

"The other?"

The lawyer let out a heavy sigh, and cast his eyes

downward. "I know your background at the FBI, Mr. Mulder.

You work with...um...UFO's. Especially alien abductees."

"I don't understand..."

"I was eighteen. Two weeks before graduation, me and my

then-girlfriend Lilly were out in the woods in my Caddy

convertible." His voice became soft and detached, "The sky

was so full of stars that night. She was sixteen, and

wearing this blue sundress...I had saved for a year for an

engagement ring for her...I was about to give it to her

when she happened to look up and noticed a bright light...I

just stood there, watching her floating up into this

beam...then she was gone...the beam of light was gone, and

the ship..." he broke off, not able to regain composure.

"So you think Lily was abducted by aliens?" Mulder

finished for him.

"I know she was...I watched her...I wanted to take your

case, because I knew if I could get you in the clear, you

could help me find her again."

"So, how are you planning to defend me?"

"Well," the lawyer began slowly, "like I said, it seems to

me that their entire case is pretty much circumstantial. I

also think if I do a little digging, I can find the truth

behind who really murdered Mr. Starkweather."

"What's your fee?" Mulder demanded, still cautious of this

man's intentions.

"Because I think you can help me after I get out, I'm doing

this pro bono."

"One service for another?"

"Exactly." the man said, punctuating it with a nod of the

head. "You're scheduled for trial in an hour. Have we got a

deal?"

"We've got a deal Mr...." Mulder replied, hinting that he

never got a name.

"Leo." The man answered, picking up the hint. "Justin Leo.

I have no doubt that you'll be back with that girl and baby

boy of yours in no time." He said with a grin.

"The beginning of a beautiful friendship..." Mulder mumbled

almost inaudibly, as he was led back to his cell.

"Sandy?" Leo said as soon as Mulder was lead out of the

visiting area. "I want you to check and see who's on the

docket for this afternoon. Can you do that for me? Judge

Carlson? Thanks. I owe ya one. Bye..." he dialed another

number. "Judge Carlson, Leo here...the powers that be don't

want this Mulder case to go. Can you do me a favor?...Can

you set bail as high as the books will letchya? Thanks. I

really appreciate this. I owe ya one." He said, turning off

his cell and packing up his briefcase. "After this is over,

I'll be up to my ears in I-O-U's...but, if it buys me

Lily..." he said sighing, and left the room.



As promised, the preliminary hearing was scheduled wiht

arraignment court in an hour.

In a half an hour, Leo was prepared for the case, procuring

a suit with an unMulderlike pinstriped tie for Mulder to

wear during the trial.

"Mulder versus the city of Washington, D.C., your honor."

The court clerk introduced them as a bailiff brought in

Mulder. "The charge is one count of premeditated murder."

"Fox Mulder was brought in for murder when a body," the

D.A. began, hesitating to open a folder for the , "90%

burned confirmed to be that of one Benjamin Starkweather,

an environmental attorney who was building a case against

the FBI, Mr. Mulder's former employer, regarding the case

which led to his dismissal from his former position

regarding the division he led known as the x-files."

"Mr. Mulder, how do you plea?" The Judge inquired, looking

him squarely in the eyes.

"Not guilty, your honor." Mulder said simply, "I'm innocent

of all the charges brought against me, and fully intend to

proove that contention."

"We'll let a jury decide that once a trial date is set,

sir. Charlotte, you got anything to say to this?" The judge

said, eyeing the D.A. over her glaces.

"Your Honor," the D.A. began, her green eyes scrutinizing

the defense lawyer, "the defendant is a former FBI agent.

He is well-trained in manual force, and is well-versed in

how to use a weapon. He also has a record for loosing his

temper, and a reputation for violence. I think it is a

hazard to this community for him to walk the streets. It is

my recommendation that this court sets bail at the maximum

amount."

"Your Honor," Leo began pretentiously, "his assistance in

solving this case is crucial. His clearance with the FBI

could shed light on my argument better than anyone else. He

is also a servant of the city, currently employed by the

city as Deputy Mayor. I should also add that he is a new

father."

"Mr. Mulder, while I congratulate you on your new baby, I

cannot, in good conscience, allow someone, as the D.A.

pointed out, who knows how to incorporate manual force and

is suspected of premeditated murder walk scott-free. Bail

is set for the maximum amount of $65,000."

With the rap of the gavel, Mulder was back to square one.

"Fox Mulder, your case is dismissed. Bailiff, please remove

the defendant from the courtroom."