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.

7. The A-Team Made this look a lot easier.....

The next morning...

Ben and Jeri's apartment

June 18, 2002

7:17 AM

Sam awoke, feeling bright sunshine on his face. His neck

was one solid stress knot from sleeping leaning against a

wall. He looked down and saw Starkweather's head resting on

his chest. He craned his neck and noticed that in the crook

of her legs, Caesar the cat was sunning himself, purring

loudly, looking as smug as only a cat could.

Laughing a little, Sam leaned back against the wall. He

rotated his neck in a vain attempt to work out the kinks.

Then, he took Starkweather in his arms and scooped her up.

Slowly, he stood up and staggered over to the sofa and laid

her down. "Let's try this again," he said as he covered her

up with the quilt. Caesar leapt upon the couch and sat on

Starkweather's stomach, hissing and growling at Sam. When

Sam tried to rearrange the blanket, Caesar swiped at him,

claws extended, catching his hand.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed, putting the scratches to his mouth,

sucking on the wounders. Caesar merely glared and spit at

him.

"He knows you aren't Doggett," Al said casually, suddenly

appearing next to Sam.

"Al!!!" Sam said, "what the hell happened last night?"

Al sighed and started punching on the console, "Well, I

told you that the virus left little surprises in Ziggy....

last night was one of them... fortunately, like I said...

she's stable right now."

"But SHE isn't!" Sam gestured to the sleeping Starkweather.

"Al... when I was looking down the barrel of that gun, I

really thought I was going to bite the big one there for a

second."

"Me too," Al said. "Buddy, I had to check my drawers for

cake when all was said and done." Al cleared his throat.

"And don't think for a moment that telling her the truth is

going to make it okay. That will only send her screaming

for the nearest padded cell... if she believes you."

"Al..." Sam said with a rueful smile. "I think it's time

for you to get on those wings..."

"SaaaaaaaaaaaAM," Al whined. "I really hate doing the whole

guardian angel routine."

"Would you prefer I have you dress in a diaper and boogey

like the dancing baby from Ally McBeal?" Sam fired back.

Al rolled his eyes. "Angels we have heard on high..." he

crooned out of tune.

"That's better," Sam said, scribbling a note to

Starkweather. "Now... I'm going to go to Doggett's to take

a shower and get some clean clothes. Before you don your

halo for Starkweather, I need you to do something for me,

Al."

"Name it buddy."

"Go pay a visit to the Deputy Mayor."

"Anything but that."

"AL," Sam hissed as he walked to the front door. "Mulder

WILL figure out that I'm not Doggett. Just two days ago, I

overheard him make the comment on why I didn't have a

Southern accent anymore. I didn't know Doggett HAD a

Southern accent."

"Oh," Al said, guiltily. "Hey, Sam? Doggett has a Southern

accent."

"Gee thanks." Sam retorted. "Al... I need you to clue

Mulder in on what's going on. He may be able to help us.

Starkweather was in the process of finding a connection

between the oil rig case and the case they had just worked

on concerned a crashed F-15 in Scotland. But her

concentration is shot to hell right now. Maybe Mulder can

finish what she started. If we can make the connection,

maybe we can stop this nightmare."

"Fine, fine... I'll go say hi to Spooky in Sing-Sing..." Al

punched out...

Sam left the apartment.

The County Jailhouse

Washington DC

7:45 AM

Mulder, after returning to his cell after the insanely

early breakfast, laid down on the bottom bunk. Manny had

not returned to his cell, as his court appointed lawyer

wanted to meet with him. So Mulder planned on enjoying a

little bit of solitude.

It didn't last long.

"Hiya, Spooky," Al said, gnawing on his ever present cigar.

Mulder jumped and banged his head on the top bunk.

"YEOWWW!!!"

The bored voice of the guard called out from the end of the

hall. "Keep down, down there."

Mulder, rubbing his head, looked up. "AL???" he whispered

incredulously. "You're back..."

"What can I say?" Al said drily. "I can't get enough of ya,

baby."

Mulder reached out and watched his hand pass through Al's

body. "This means Sam's back too..." Mulder remembered from

last year, when Sam had leapt into Scully. A queasy feeling

settled in his soul. "Um... how long have you guys been

here..." assuming Sam was back in Scully.

"This is the third day." Al said, wondering why Mulder was

turning very very green.

"And you waited until NOW to tell me?" Mulder said,

clutching his stomach. "You mean to tell me that was

**Sam** just walked out of here last night!" He went from

green to grey. "Oh my God... the remarks I made last night

about handcuffs and bars and being a sex-kitten... and

yesterday, I made love to her... him... oh God..."

Al couldn't help but let Mulder torture himself for

just a bit longer.

"In fact... we had sex not just yesterday morning, but the

night before... and the night before..." Al arched an

eyebrow at him. Mulder bridled at him. "Hey, we have eight

years of stupidity to make up for..." now he went from grey

to white. "... but the past three days... it wasn't

Scully... I feel so dirty..."

Al let Mulder off the hook. "Mulder, you moron, Sam's not

in Scully!"

"Oh." Feeling like a complete nitwit, Mulder tried to save

face. "If Sam's not in Scully... who's he in?" A thought

crossed his mind. "Starkweather?"

"No no, that would be too easy," Al sighed. "He's in

Doggett."

Mulder's face color returned to normal as a evil grin

crossed his face. "Sam's in the Puppy-Man?"

After all the grief Doggett-in-Sam had given him, Al

couldn't help but grin nastily. "Puppy-Man, huh?" Al took

out his Palm-Pilot "Memo to me...."

Georgetown

Scully's Residence

7:46 AM

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

"What the hell do you mean I can't go to Martha's Vineyard

today?" Scully snapped into her phone.

"Scully, I hate to tell you this, but we have a review up

before Kersh this morning at ten. Apparently, he's calling

you, Doggett, Starkweahter and me on Mulder's arrest and

Ben Starkweather's murder."

"Sir, he can't do that! We have absolutely nothing that can

implicate anybody on this case!"

"The fact is, Scully, that you have a history for covering

for Mulder." Skinner said before he realized it.

"Sir, so do you." Scully replied frankly.

"You and I both know that, Scully, but at least Doggett and

Starkweather will be there to back us up on this. Look, if

there was anything I could do to stop this meeting, believe

me, I would do it. But Martha's Vineyard will just have to

be delayed a little bit."

"Delayed!" Scully erupted, "Sir! I was heading on my way

out! If it is true that whoever is behind this is inside

the FBI, then it is very possible that the evidence we need

will be removed from the premises! I think it is very

possible that this whole meeting is nothing more than a

front to keep me from finding out what they don't want us

to know."

"Scully, I just can't grant you a reprieve on this as much

as I'd like to. The future of the x-files division may very

well hinge on this meeting. We need your input on this

matter. Besides," Skinner sighed grudgingly, "if you don't

show up, that's just going to make it easier for them to

hang you later."

"Is there something your not telling me, sir?" Scully

demanded.

"Billy Miles came into this building last night." Skinner

confessed. "He murdered the security guard and the only

reason you, me, Starkweather, and Doggett aren't split in

half at this very moment is because we weren't in the

building."

"Fine. I'll uh, change my plane reservations and see you in

a couple of hours." Scully consented, hung up, and hopped

on her computer to print out her findings on the current

case.

Meanwhile...

Mulder laid back down on the bunk, idly kicking the bottom

of the top bunk's mattress. "If I remember correctly,"

Mulder droned, "Dr. Samuel Beckett theorized that one could

time travel in one's own lifetime. He started up a massive

project back in 1999, calling it Quantum Leap. For some

reason or other, he decided to test Quantum Leap before it

was 100% ready. He stepped into the chamber and vanished.

Lost in time, Sam leaps from life to life, putting right

what once went wrong, hoping that each time, the next leap,

will be the leap home."

"Well... yeah that's pretty much it... in a nutshell."

"And it is safe to assume that me being arrested for Ben's

murder is what went wrong."

"You could say that..." Al said. "Except that somehow,

history changed. He's not dead."

Mulder sat up, hitting his head again. "OW! Damn it."

"Stop doing that, it hurts," Al warned him helpfully.

Mulder glared at Al. "Ben's not dead?" he croaked out,

rubbing his noggin. "Well, zippa-dee-do-da, that's great, so

why the hell am I still here?"

Al groaned and rolled his eyes. "I forgot what a joy and

pleasure it is to be around you." Al lit up another cigar.

"Ben's not dead, but he's being held prisoner somewhere. We

believe that Ben's disappearance is directly connected with

the oil rig case that you and Doggett worked on."

"Galpex Petroleum Orpheus," Mulder said, laying back down,

head throbbing. "Yeah... and Mr. Mini-Johnny Cochran

thought he was going to take that case to trial and be a

big legal star."

"Starkweather was working on a connection between the oil

rig and the downed plane in Scotland-"

"Which one?"

"Which what?"

"Which Starkweather?"

"Oh, sorry. Jerilyn." Al had forgotten that the Mrs.

Starkweather did have a first name. "Anyways, she was

working on a connection and we think if we could just

figure out what the big hairy deal is between Scotland and

the oil rig, we might be able to figure out exactly WHY Ben

was snatched and maybe even find him."

"So," Mulder huffed. "Go ask Starkweather."

"Um... she's a little... testy right now."

"A LITTLE testy?" Mulder turned his head. "If this," he

pointed to his face, "is what you classify as 'a little', I

would hate to see what you call 'a lot testy.' Personally,

I would file this under 'Hormonal B*tch' but that's just

me."

Al took a closer look at Mulder. "Oooh... Geez... she did

THAT?!?!?"

LGM lair

a few hours earlier

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

"You think we're looking at this wrong, Byers? I mean, we

could just be seeing the results funky because we're sleep-

deprived." Frohike grumbled, staring open-jawed at the DNA

samples.

"Who knows, maybe we're still in the middle of a

nightmare."

"Hold out your arm." Frohike demanded to Langly.

"What for?" Langly wanted to know.

"Just hold out your arm." Frohike said, and then

immediately pinched what little was showing underneath his

long-sleeved shirt.

"Ow!" Langly shouted, and threw up his arm, unintentionally

b*tch-slapping Byers.

"This is reality." Byers said, heaving a disappointed sigh.

"Whatever the hell this is, I sure as sh*t ain't gonna be

the one to spill it to Scully."

"Do it again, maybe we did the tests wrong." Frohike

suggested hopefully.

"Maybe the two-month-old vomit sample isn't

reliable...maybe the aliens changed the DNA make-up when he

was abducted..." Langly frantically reasoned.

"Didn't Mulder say she was possibly abducted, too?" Frohike

interjected.

"There's only one way to find out." Byers answered.

Again, Byers took another of Mulder's two-month-old vomit

sample.

"Got another peice of her hair, Frohickey?"

"Double double, toil and trouble." Frohike mumbled,

plucking a blond strand from his jacket.

"We've got the horney toad," Langly said, nodding in

Frohike's general direction, "All we need for a complete

spell now is an eye of newt."

That hair strand and the vommit were put on slides and the

levels were compared.

"It's a match..." Byers croaked unbelievingly, "98.5%."

"You don't think they can kill us for telling them, do

you?" Langly nasalled.

"We better change our locks." Frohike suggested.

"We better change our identities." Langly offered.

"It's a match...that changes everything..." Byers

concluded.

back at Mulder's Cell

***

Mulder had small purple bruises around his neck, where

Starkweather had tried to choke him. His nose, broken

before and broken again, had puffed up. As she had punched

his nose, she also had split upper lip which the prison

doctor had to stitch shut. "I spent three hours in the

infirmary being stitched up by Dr. Frankenstein before they

took me off to be strip-searched." Mulder said, rolling

back over. "Yesterday wasn't exactly a banner day for me."

Al, was still in total shock. "SHE did that?"

"No, the other little b*tch who thinks I killed her

husband."

"But if we find the little b- um..." Al tried again. "If we

can find Ben, they all will be well and we can get you out

of here, so dammit I need to know what is so crucial about

that case staying in the dark, other than the fact that you

and Doggett's careers get shot to kingdom come!!" Al was

getting REALLY tired of the G-men from the X-Files.

Mulder turned his head again. "There's something you're not

telling me." Al opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Mulder rubbed his eyes. "Come on Al, I've been in worse

positions that this."

"Um... if we don't find Ben and prove that you didn't kill

him... thenbillihkljhfdsfr," Al mumbled.

"What?"

"If we don't find Ben and prove that you didn't kill him...

then someone... or something named Billy Miles is gonna

come and rearrange your face worse than that Hurricane

did."

Mulder was quiet for a moment. "Okay... that's a new one."

Mulder said. "So, because Starkweather married an idiot who

got himself involved in an X-File when he had absolutely no

right to, I'm going to be bent, stapled and mulitated

unless I pick up where Starkweather, and that's the Mrs.

Starkweather I'm referring to, left off, find out, from my

locked jailcell, if you will, on what secret that oil rig

contained and how it's connected to the case Starkweather,

again, Mrs. Starkweather, Scully and Doggett worked on.

Once I figure out this secret, this secret by the way I

have been pursuing for about ten years, we can also figure

out where the idiot, and I'm referring to MR. Starkweather

now, where the idiot is being held, reunited the

Starkweathers, Mr. and Mrs. and I can skip out of here a

free man... but there's a catch, isn't there Al? I'm

working under deadline, aren't I?"

"According to Ziggy, we've got four days left."

"Of course we do," Mulder grumbled, starting to massage his

temples. "Almost a decade of chasing after the truth and

I've got to catch it, from a prison cell, in less than

ninety-six hours," Mulder groaned. "That women," he said,

referring to the Mrs. Starkweather, "has been a pain in the

ass since I've met her."

Al, overtired, overwrought, scared for Sam and in dire need

of a stiff drink, retorted "Must run your the family,

bucko."

"What do you mean?" Mulder said caustically. "I have no

family except Scully and Wil-." Just then the clue bus

made a stop and Mulder climbed aboard. "Oh my God-" he sat

up again and again banged his head. "OW!!! GOD DAMN IT!!"

"You took that a helluva lot better than Ziggy predicted

you would."

He swung his long legs out and sat on his bunk, glaring at

Al. "Are you saying that... Starkweather and I... are

related...how? My parents were both only children, so I

have no cousins. It was confirmed that Samantha was killed,

so I have no nieces or nephews." But Mulder's mind began to

race, thinking about all the times he and Starkweather had

met and talked, how there was a spark, a surge, a

preternatural sensation of Family??

That would sear his soul even when he was the most inflamed

at her cutting tongue.

Al finally said what had never been spoken aloud for

twenty-eight years. "She's your sister."

Mulder's fists were clenched in rage. "Samantha's dead."

"I didn't say she was Samantha, I said she was your sister.

Half-sister anyway." Al got out his handy-dandy console.

"Ziggy said that it's 65 perce- holy Moses roses!" Al said,

looking at the new figures. "History changed again Mulder,

I dunno how, but now Ziggy's saying that there is a ninety

eight point five percent change that you and Starkweather

share the same biological..." he looked down at Mulder. He

was not taking this well. He was not going to take the next

word well either. "Father."

Mulder closed his eyes. "My father had an affair?"

Al said sadly, "I can't get you answers until you get me

answers."

Mulder opened his eyes. "Alright, I'll do what I can."

"THANK YOU," Al said opening the chamber door. "I'll be in

touch... no pun intended."

"Ha." Mulder deadpanned.

"Goushie," Al said, "center me on Starkweather."

As Al disappeared, Mulder couldn't help but allow himself a

mean little smile. We're brother and sister?? he

thought in glee. He couldn't wait for Starkweather to find

out. That is going to ruin her entire day.

Just then the guard came to let Manny back in and Mulder

out. "Come on, Mulder," the guard said, none too friendly.

"Your lawyer's here."

Mulder wondered if he should tell Justin Leo that Ben might

be alive.

As he was escorted to a private interview room, Mulder

tried to hurry and organize his scattered thoughts and

emotions into one nice neat line. Of course, it was hard

being cool, calm and collected while wearing a bright

orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, but Mulder did the best he

could. It was, after all, not the first time he did jail

time.

The unsmiling guard let him into the interview room where

Justin Leo awaited his arrival. Uncuffing him, he told

Mulder. "Behave yourself."

Mulder resisted the impulse to salute him but he did say

casually, "Yes, mein Fuhrer."

The guard snorted. "Pain in the ass," he muttered as he

swung the heavy steel door shut behind him.

Leo looked up from his legal pen. "Mr. Mulder," he said

warmly as he stood up to shake his hand. "How are they

treating you?"

"The service here is awful," Mulder said, absolutely

straight-face. "I plan on writing a letter of complaint to

the management."

Leo laughed. "They told me you had a quick wit."

"I was hoping your legal manuveuring would be quicker than

my wit."

"Well, we'll have you out in no time," Leo said sincerely.

"Funny, I thought I'd be out now on bail since all the

evidence is purely circumstantial," Mulder found himself

becoming resentful towards the neatly dressed lawyer

sitting across from him. He couldn't quite place his finger

on it. Maybe I'm just jealous that he's on the outside

and I'm stuck in here he reasoned.

"I understand you're frustrated," Leo said, "believe me, I

can't tell you how disappointed I am at the judge's ruling.

Between you, me and the fencepost, I think he's on the

take, and let's face it Mr. Mulder,you've gotten on the bad

side of a lot of powerful people. I wouldn't be surprised

if the judge is being paid by someone to make your life a

living hell."

"But who could that be?" Mulder said. "Everyone I pissed

off is dead."

"I beg to differ." Leo argued gently. "Deputy Director

Kersh is alive... Jerilyn Starkweather is alive."

"Kersh works for the FBI... he doesn't have the money to

bribe anyone," Mulder said while thinking But if he's

getting regular dividends from the oil company... "and

Starkweather... bribery is not her style. She'd rather just

beat the shit out of me rather than waste money bribing a

judge."

"Do you want to press charges against her for... um..." Leo

pointed at his face. "That?"

Mulder shook his head. "She's suffering enough right now."

Just having her find out that we're family is going to be

punishment enough.

"Are you sure?" Leo argued, a little more heat now, but not

much. "I've been doing some research into Agent

Starkweather and she's a huge liability to our case."

"I'll say," Mulder said dryly. "She thinks I killed her

husband."

"Sir, with all due respect," Leo said. "I think we should

go after her for her attack on you. Not only will you get

monitary recouperation for your injuries, but since she's

one of the main witnesses for the prosecution, a law suit

against her might help us discredit her, if the judge will

allow it, of course."

Mulder, in light of the information he had just received

this morning, shook his head. "I'm not comfortable with

that line of defense, Mr. Leo."

"Why not?" Leo persisted. "She's in the way. I am not

comfortable with her out there as their star character

witness. She'll be on that stand, telling them about the

arguement you two had at J. Edgar and weeping crocidile

tears for her poor dead husband...

"Is there a chance that the dead husband isn't dead?"

Leo sighed, exasperated. "Mr. Mulder... I understand that

you recently underwent an experience which makes you

question the permenance of death but I can assure you. Mr.

Starkweather is NOT partially dead or even mostly dead. He

is completely dead. And the prosecution is going to use the

grieving widow to gain sympathy for their case. Face it Mr.

Mulder, I know your scruples are up in arms about attacking

Agent Starkweather's creditbility, but her testimony

completely interfers with our defense strategy.

Discrediting Starkweather is an issue of priorities and

securities, Mr. Mulder. Not whether or not we're

comfortable."

Mulder merely murmurred thoughtfully, "I see..." he closed

his eyes. "Say that last part again?"

"Whether or not we're comf-"

"Before that."

"Priorities and securities?"

"Mayor," a man was protesting, "he is in our way. He

can't continue to hold this position without interfering

with our agenda. He says it's an issue of priorities and

securities."

Mulder, like a lazy tiger, opened his eyes and stared at

him as if the lawyer was a sleeping gazelle. "I think, Mr.

Leo," Mulder said calmly. "I need another attorney."

Leo also eyed Mulder as if he was the predator and Mulder

the prey. "I understand," he said evenly. "Good day, Mr.

Mulder." They shook hands and Leo took his leave.

The minute Leo was out the door, Mulder yelled,

"GUARD?!?!?! I NEED TO USE THE PHONE PLEASE?"

The minute Leo was out of the jailhouse, he pulled his

sleek little Nokia phone out of his pants pocket and hit

speed-dial. "It's Justin Leo. We have a situation.... he

figured it out."



J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington, D.C.

9:04 am

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

"Sir," Skinner was saying. "I think pending the

investigation Doggett will raise in the coming weeks once

this oil-rig matter blows over, the findings will give you

no room to squirm. It will not be in your best interest to

put anyone involved in the x-files division underfire." He

decided the best tactic to employ in this situation would

be to try and persuade his superior the good reasons for

alleviating blame from the x-files division.

"Walter," Kersh refuted, "I have good reason to believe

that justice has been obstructed here, and I will do my

damnedest to make sure that the proper measures are taken

against that. You've had a distinguished career, A.D., I'd

hate to see it all end up in smoke."

"Or in oil." Skinner mumbled.

"I am allowing Doggett's investigation of my office to

continue" Kersh went on, disregarding Skinner's remark,

"because I am positive that he will find nothing wrong

while in this position. I am bringing the members of the x-

files division here today because I believe that some

aspects of their current situation needs to be brought to

light."

"Interrogating them in this manner is not going to bring

any answers to light, Sir." Skinner rebuttled, "All

questionning will do is arouse Doggett's suspicions of your

own behavior, further giving him cause to probe into your

term as Deputy Director.

"Nothing is going to interfere with this investigation. I

am not--"

Kersh stopped in mid-sentence because just then there was a

resounding BOOM! Followed by an obvious voiceless scuffle,

then a silence.

Skinner spat up and spun around, not loosing any time

getting his gun out of his ankle holster.

"I think nothing's at the door, Kersh." Skinner said,

poising his gun.

The door flung open, and a tall man with dark hair, eyes

searching but not 'seeing' lumbered past Skinner and went

directly for Kersh.

Billy Miles, moved arms zombily outstretched, directed at

Kersh's necks. Kersh, wide-eyed, stood paralyzed, unable to

do anything defense-wise except cower under his desk

Skinner, not blinking once, shot at the tall form, but

missed the crucial spot due to Billy Miles' own swift

movements. Green ooze protruded from his shoulder-blade. In

one fell swoop, Billy Miles picked up the desk, threw it at

Skinner, who barely managed to side-step it.

Trying to keep himself from being flung like

that desk and his superior alive was Skinner's immediate

priority.

Kersh, in reflex, grabbed the flagpole that stood in his

office for defense. He idley swung to the left, and then

swiftly again to the right, looking a little to Skinner at

the moment like a majorette, and would've laughed at that

thought had the situation not been so dire.

Billy Miles' form snatched the flagpole from Kersh, who

shot a desperate glance at Skinner. Billy Miles first swung

the pole in the direction of Skinner, barely missing and

swinging the pole into the wall in the process, also

knocking his pistol out of his hand. He then swung at

Kersh.

"The oil...the oil stocks..." Kersh's voice shook in

cowardice. He began confessing to the monster formerly

known as Billy Miles, hoping to gain a reprieve. "The oil

company involved in the case that got Agent Mulder fired is

currently earning me hefty dividends. Investigation...would

have gotten me reprimanded or in legal trouble."

"Is that true?" Skinner questioned as he ducked another

swing.

Kersh nodded as he backed up against the window. Skinner

watched in horror as Billy Miles throttled his neck through

the blinds, and shattering the glass.

Skinner plunged for his gun, which laid somewhere under the

rubble that was formerly his superior's desk. He grabbed

the gun.

With the abruptness of a summer storm, Billy Miles released

his grip. Kersh clutched the ledge of the window, and

Skinner helped him up as Billy Miles robotically left the

room.

Scully stood jaw gaping as she surveyed the disaster that

was formerly an impeccably organized Deputy Director's

office. Kersh was still doubled over, just holding the two

ends of the flag-poles.

"Sir? What--" Scully said, looking puzzled at the mess.

Being ever the medical doctor, she went to Kersh, doing a

topical examination of his injuries.

"Billy Miles was here." Skinner began.

"He did this--but I thought--" Scully stammered in

disbelief

"Whatever that virus was that he and Mulder were infected

with last winter made Billy Miles indestructable.

"What is going on here?" Sam demanded, surveying the

damage. "I saw the paramedics outside and--"

"Holy smoke, Sam," Al blurted out when he appeared, letting

out a low whistle "looks like my place after ex-wife number

3 found out about ex-wife number 4"

"I think these agents deserve an explanation." Skinner cued

to Kersh, who admonishingly sighed, closing his eyes.

"Billy Miles came after me." Kersh began softly.

"Why? Why does Billy Miles want you harmed?" Sam-in-Doggett

demanded, and flashed a quizzical look at Al, who quickly

jumped in with the answer.

"Billy Miles is the main suspect charged with Mulder's

murder, T-1000 style." Al finished.

"For a sizable sum of money in oil stocks, I was paid to

let certain things within the Bureau slide." Kersh

admitted.

"You are aware that a man is rotting in jail right now for

a crime he didn't commit." Scully pointed out.

"All the evidence against him suggests otherwise, agent

Scully." Kersh argued.

"All the evidence against him is circumstantial, Kersh."

Sam fired back. "The defense attorney working his case has

a questionable background."

"Not questionable, Sam...Leo's as crooked as Quasimodo's

back." Al butted in.

"Agent Doggett, don't think I'm in anyway connected with

that attorney assigned to him."

"The wicked flee-eth when he's been caught holding the

bag." Al grumbled.

"I think you're hiding something." Sam-in-Doggett glared.

"I think you know exactly who's behind all this and I think

that unless you come forth with that information, a lot of

people are going to be killed." He said, storming out.

"Sir, I think Doggett's right." Scully seethed. "You are

letting an innocent man rot in jail and you are putting

everyone here at risk. If our investigation of your office

finds anything--even a pack of cigarettes on the FBI's

dime--you are going to wish Billy Miles split you instead

of that pole. If you'll excuse me, I have an investigation

to persue." She finished, and stormed out.

Meanwhile...

At an horse farm in rural Maryland...

Marita Covarubias was out in the barn saddling up her

favorite mare, Arwin, a placid palamino, when her cell

phone rang. Arwin twitched an ear in interest but made no

other movement, as well-trained as she was. Marita looped

the reins around the fences, stepped away from the animal

and answered. "Hello?"

"It's Justin Leo. We have a situation.... he figured it

out."

Marita bit back a howl of frustration. It was all going to

hell. First, that smokey son-of-a-b*tch's coup de tat, re-

seizing control of the New Syndicate. And now this. She had

gone against her better judgement about allowing Leo to be

a part of this project. He was too personally involved. Now

she was going to pay for it.

Calmly, as if talking to an idiot child, she said, "Go to

the safe house and don't move until I say so. We'll have to

arrange a flight and money and lodging for you."

"You talk as if I'm in danger," Leo said as he hailed on of

DC's colorful cabs.

Marita, losing her calm just a hair, informed him, "You

don't think Mulder is on the phone to Agent Scully right

now, telling him what's going on? The man still has

connections. Plus we have the very unfortunate situation

where most people don't believe he's guilty."

"The judge is fixed."

"The judge is dead," Marita took great pleasure in telling

him while she thought Or at least, he will be after I get

off the phone with you, you waster of oxygen I could be

breathing.

"WHAT?" Leo was in the cab now, clutching his briefcase.

"Capitol Hill," he told the cabbie before resuming his

conversation. "Why the f*ck did you do that?" he snapped.

"He was an valuable asset."

"This entire mission is getting too messy," Marita spelled

it out for him. "The goal was to get rid of Mulder and Mr.

and Mrs. Starkweather. The more people who get involved

with this, the more potential we have for information

slipping out."

"While you're at it," Leo seethed, "why don't you just take

out the entire X-File Division? Skinner, Scully, Doggett,

Reyes?"

"I just might," she told him coldly before she hung up on

him.

After calling her favorite hitmen to take out the judge,

Marita walked back to Arwen, patiently waiting for her. She

scratched the horse's ears while she debated with herself

on what to do next. Finally, she did what she knew she was

going to do all along.

Damn the old man and his obsolete ways. His ways didn't

work anymore. She finished saddling up Arwin and swung

herself up on her back before she dialed again.

"Things have changed. Send the replicant to Mulder's cell

tomorrow night." She said crisply. "And then, afterwards,

get rid of Benjamin Starkweather permanently. I'm calling

for a full abort of the mission. In forty-eight hours, all

evidence must be destroyed."

She knew she was taking a risk in waiting so long in

eliminating Mulder and Mr. Starkweather, but she needed

some time to pull the wool over the Cancer Man's eyes, to

let him think HE was in charge.

Gently, she nudged Arwin in the ribs and took off at a

gallop.

Scully, having an overnight bag to pack, Will to check on,

and plane reservations to change--again--practically flew

to the FBI employee parking garage after the encounter with

her superiors.

Mick Jagger whined over the stereo

Tiiiiiyiyiyime is on my side

Yes it eeeehhhhhhis

Tiiiiiyiyiyime is on my side

Yes it eeeeeeehis

Scully hoped so.

The trance-like state she was in from the music and her

fatigue was interrupted by the shrill ring of her cell

phone.

"Scully, it's Byers. We found something you might wanna

know."

"What did you get, Byers?" Scully asked, turning the car

radio on mute.

"Are you sitting down?"

"I'm driving." Scully said flatly.

"Oh well...I hope your at a stoplight or at a stop sign or

a traffic jam..." Langley nasalled in the background.

"Sorry Scully, we hadda put you on speakerphone." Byers

apologized meekly.

"That's ok, Byers...what did you guys find out?"

"Um...we got this package." Byers hesitated. "It had Mulder

and Jerilyn's blood in it. We ran tests, and the chances

are less than slim that they are blood related."

Scully's car screeched to a stop at the result.

"How?!"

"We don't know." Frohike butted in. "Scully, we heard tires

screaching. Everything alright?"

"Yeah...everything's fine." Scully said queitly.

"I don't think Luke and Princess Liea will be happy when

they find out about this." Langly said.

"I think we're lucky Starkweather doesn't have her own

personal Chewbacca." Byers commented.

"She's got Doggett." Frohike grumbled. "He's close enough."

"Guys...how did you get this information?" Scully demanded

after her nerves were calmed down enough to concentrate on

driving.

"We got these test tubes from some guy in a trench coat."

"Some guy in a trench coat...you guys sound like something

out of a really bad old detective movie."

"Scully, dollars for doughnuts, this is real..." Byers

assured quietly.

"Hang on, Byers, I have a call." Scully thankfully took the

incoming call.

"Little Dana Scully!" a male's voice boomed on the other

end. "How's that little boy of yours? I can't call you

Little Dana anymore with a child of your own, can I?"

"Sir, Williams fine. How are you?"

"Well, I'm upset about this whole mess with my son-in-law

and the Deputy Mayor, Dana. I was hoping you'd set me

straight with the details."

"Sir, I'm right in the middle of an investigation right

now." Scully said ...of you...she silently added.

"I realize your busy, Dana...but I really would like to see

what you have so far on the case. For my little Jeri's

sake. Is there anyway you can make it to Martha's Vineyard

this weekend?"

"I think that can be arranged sir. I'll be there late

Friday."

"Wonderful." The Admiral replied, "You know, Dana, I don't

want to believe he's guilty..."

"I think the evidence against him is circumstantial, and

hopefully my investigations will prove that."

"I hope so, Dana. Take care of that little boy, and feel

free to bring him along. I'll see you this weekend."

"Thank you admiral. See you then. Bye."

Maybe she'd take this visit to get some sun and do a little

interrogation.

With a push of a few buttons, she was back in touch with

Byers.

"I'll pass the word along guys. Thanks for letting me

know."

"May the schwartz be with you." Langly cautioned, and with

that, Scully hung up.

5:37 pm

Martha's Vineyard

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

Scully wound down the endless sea of vacation houses on

Martha's Vineyard. It certianly hadn't changed much since

she had been here as a child. Being the middle of summer,

the tourist-season was just hitting it's stride, and the

streets were dotted with bicyclists and children bouncing

balls across the streets.

She caught sight of the beach and memories of her brothers

dunking her in the water and chasing after her and Missy

when she was in the middle of itemizing sea shells and

poking at gellatinous jellyfish corpses dotted along the

shoreline. To her, they weren't gross, but beautiful and

fascinating.

She made her way to the Bailey summer home and found the

front door surprisingly unlocked. She opened the door to

find the furniture redecorated and covered in plastic, most

likely by Mrs. Bailey.

"Did the pottery barn throw up in here?" She mumbled.

She walked over to an unfinished chimoise and lifted the

plastic. From behind the plastic, a yellowed and doily-thin

letter feathered down at her feet.

She picked up and her jaw dropped like nighttime

temperature in the desert as she continued to read the

letter's contents.

Dear Jeremy

I know you and your wife will raise this baby girl as your

own daughter, and I am sure she will make a fulfilling

addition to her family. She will be happy with you, I am

sure, unless she finds out her true origins.

At all costs, you must keep this secret from her. She will

be a part of your family until our cause has use for her.

Her father has recently lost his only daughter and youngest

child, Samantha to the cause, and his wife Teena--for the

sake of their 12-year-old boy does not wish for her

father's part in this to be revealed. Your new baby girl's

mother remains a mystery to me, but I believe she is

special...the only one of her kind, moreso than most

parents wish their children to be.

Enclosed you will find forged adoption papers with people

who are not living. In this way, if your new baby daughter

chooses to search out her origins, she will arrive at a

dead end.

I wish all the happiness and promise a young girl can bring

to a father. Keep her part in our cause a secret, and she

will be a happy, well-adjusted, child. Best of luck to you

and your new family.

Sincerely

CBG Spender

Oh my God...the tests...they were accurate...he's in with

Spender...he's part of all of it...it's all coming together

now.

Why is it, Scully wondered, that whenever an x-files case

started to come together, did that usually mean her world

was about to fall apart?

Now, this letter was proof that he was connected to the

syndicate. Now, he just had to find a connection with the

syndicate to Ben's murder. She was wasting rummaging

through the cubbies in the desk and was so intensely

determined to find evidence that she barely heard the

doorknob turning.

Scully ignored her first instinct to dive in a good hiding

place when she heard the click of the doorknob. Instead she

pulled her gun out of her shoulder-holster. She had every

right to be here, and the warrant to proove it. Problem was,

she felt like a kid being caught redhanded.

Admiral Bailey stood at the thresh hold, wide-eyed and

opened-mouthed.

"Dana?" he finally croaked.

"Admiral, can you please explain the meaning of this,"

she said weapon still trained on the old man, she brandished

the old letter with her free hand.

"The meaning of what?!" Admiral Bailey

She read the letter verbatim.

"Are you involved with a syndicate of conspirators involved with

alien/human hybrid projects?" She demanded when she finished.

"When I joined them, I didn't know who they were." He admitted,

sighing defeatedly. "I just got back from serving in the Vietnam

War, and after seeing all that destruction, I wanted desperately

to give a life everything a human being deserved. My wife and I

wanted a daughter, and soon after I was told she was unable to

have children, I was approached by a man. They had a little girl

who needed a family, and we needed a child to make our house a home.

When I agreed to take her, I had no idea as to who the man was.

As time passed on, I was pulled into the group, conspiring with them,

pulling strings for a single cause. I'm not a bad man, Dana. To protect

the people I love, I had to do some very bad things."

"Did you have anything to do with Mulder's arrest?" Scully demanded,

gun still trained on him.

"Oh God, Dana...I didn't want that to happen. After all, Mulder was the

one standing between that man and my little girl. I wish there was

something I could do to get him out of this ordeal." He sighed regrettably.

"Sir, there is." Scully replied frankly, taking off the safety. "You can

come forward with this information."

"I know, I know...but if I let on that I come forward, they'll come after

me and Jerilyn. I dont' care about my own ass, but I'll be damned if I let

them take Jerilyn. You'd do the same for little William, and you know it."

"Sir, I wouldn't if that meant two lives were to be destroyed because of

my actions." She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a search warrant.

"Admiral Bailey, I have a warrant to search your premisis. Am I going to find

any more damning evidence?"

"You can search all you want, Dana." The Admiral said softly.

"Sir...I think you need to come back with me and explain all this to my partner."

"Let me get my bags." Admiral Bailey consented.

After the police left and the smoke cleared from the Deputy

Director's office, Sam got the Assistant Director's

permission to go home and rest. Lord knows he needed it

after not sleeping more than three hours for the past two

nights.

He barely remembered hitting the pillow, but Sam still had

a very troubled sleep.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Starkweather seathed, a

little girl stood with her blue-eyes wide at her pointing a

gun at Sam. "Bailey," she said, eyes shifting to the little

girl but not allowing the gun to move, "I want you to go to

your room and play."

"But Mommy!" the girl protested, "He said--"

"Bailey," Starkweather insisted sharply, "I want you to go

to your room and play with your toys. Please sweetheart,

just go...I don't care what he said..."

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!" She began as

soon as Bailey was safely upstairs.

"I'm only trying to help." Sam insisted quietly.

"Help what?" She fumed, "My husband is supposed to be here

now, not you. If you have abducted an FBI agent, sir, you

should know that I will not hesitate to make sure you pay

the full legal penalty." She c*cked the gun, "or maybe I

should just let you rot in hell. Tell me, which do you

prefer?"

"Jerilyn, please," Sam pleaded, "I'm not here to hurt you.

I'm here to make everything right."

"Where did you come from?" She demanded, turning the safety

off.

"That's hard to say." Sam answered sheepishly.

"Sir, you've got a gun pointed at you about to go off. I'd

hate for your last words to be 'that's hard to say',

wouldn't you? Now, before I blow your f*cking brains out, I

suggest you tell me where my husband is."

Somehow, Sam knew she was referring to Doggett.

"Your husband is safe, Jerilyn. I'm here to help bring him

home." Sam said simply.

"How the h*ll am I supposed to believe that?" Starkweather

retorted.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Sam answered

bluntly.

"Because you want me to let my gaurd down so I won't

introduce you to St. Peter." Starkweather glowered, slowly

stepping up to him brandishing her gun.

"Starkweather...please...just listen for a second."

Starkweather glanced at the clock, "You've got exactly

three minutes to explain yourself." She threatened.

"I built a time machine..." Sam began desperately, "Most of

the time, people see me for whose ever life I am changing,

but for some reason, you're seeing me for me."

"And John Doggett is--"

"In Project Quantum Leap waiting room--the government

experiment enabling me to be here. He's safe, he's alive.

People I trust implicitly are making sure of that."

"Why are you here?" She said, finally putting the gun down.

"To make sure things go the way they're supposed to."

Sam woke up with a start.

Dreams these days were making it harder and harder to fall asleep.

later that afternoon

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

Jerilyn spent the early afternoon trying to make the peices

fit, but it was like trying to merge fettucini alfredo with

a bean burrito delux.

Doggett wasn't even Doggett anymore...that was unhenging.

Every ounce in her wanted to make Mulder pay for Ben's

death. She wanted someone to pay for what happened, and

Mulder was in the closest proximity to guilt.

But it was true...all the evidence piled against him was

circumstantial. It was also true that he didn't behave at

all questionably before the murder. Something resounded in

her with Mulder during their first encounter. Something

familial. If he weren't such a jack-ass, she might actually

be friends with him.

"But facts is facts." Starkweather mumbled. "He's being

prosecuted for my husbands murder, and nobody else seems to

be guilty for it." She plunked the half-consumed Jack

Daniels bottle down on the ground.

She slumped onto the couch, and fell into a deep

undisturbed sleep.

Her next conscious moment was several hours later, it was

dark outside and it took her a few minutes to register that

someone was there in front of her.

"You look like hell." Al said simply.

Starkweather bridled in pain at the headache. She lunged at

him, but just passed through him.

"Who--" she sputtered, "What...the FUCK are you?!"

"I am your fairy godfather. I'm here to make you an offer

you can't refuse."

"Gimme a break, she studied him quizzically, you sure as

hell ain't Brando."

"Maybe not...just think of me as your gaurdian angel."

"Where are your wings, Clearance? And why the hell are you

wearing a flaming red suit?"

"St. Peter decided to let us wear colors because the stains

were hiking up the cleaning bill." Al retorted.

"Hey wait...I remember you!" Starkweather blurted out,

"You're that guy--the one that was hear earlier--when

Doggett wasn't Doggett!"

"I don't know what the hell your talking about, Jerilyn."

"How come you know my name?" Starkweather demanded.

"We've been watching you for the past few days."

"Watching me?" She puzzled, "Who's 'we'"

"You know...us." Al said.

"Why have you been watching me?" She demanded.

"Basically because we don't get cable up in Heaven." Al

deadpanned. "Harps loose their interest pretty quick."

"What is in those clouds? LSD? Come off it! You are not an

angel any more than I'm Shirley McLane."

"Look," Al insisted, "I'm here to tell you Ben is fine.

He's alive and he's fine."

"The Gospel According to Fun-House-Mirror-Freak-in-a-

Clownsuit." Starkweather deadpanned. "Ben's fine?!" She

echoed immediately. "Look, Casper, I wanna believe

you...but, since when do angels smoke?"

"Alright, alright," Al admitted, "Ben's alive in a

warehouse somewhere around here being held by the same

people responsible for Mulder's abduction. I'm not an

angel. I'm part of a top secret government project

involving time travel called Quantum Leap. I'm a hologram

here from fifteen years in the future and I'm here to make

sure you're safe."

"Yeah." Starkweather began incredulously, "Riiiiiiiiiiight.

Well...I'll believe you are no angel."

"Believe me, you're on thin ice right now Queenie...you

shouldn't be mad at Mulder. He's done nothing to be mad

*about*."

"Alright...I won't be mad at Mulder, Ben's alive...maybe if

I smile and nod you'll go away." Starkweather said crisply.

Al sighed heavily, "Starkweather, you've gotta help

Mulder." he pleaded quietly.

"Why?" she fired back, "he deserves to be in jail for what

he did."

Al shook his head.

"Doesn't he?" She questioned. For some reason, against all

logic and explanation, she believed the man standing before

her.

Al was getting desperate for answers. He wasn't getting

through.

"That's not the only reason you have to help the Deputy

Mayor."

"Just because he saved my ass doesn't mean I have to break

him outta jail like some bad episode of the A-Team!" She

fired back.

"No...because," Al said with a heavy sigh, "he's family."

Starkweather stood open-mouthed. "He's WHAT?!"

"There is a 98.5 % chance that you and Fox Mulder are

blood-related."

"What?!?! How?!?!?"

"That is being investigated." Al replied. "We don't know,

but that's being looked into."

"By whom?"

"Scully." Al answered simply. "As we speak, I think."

She shot up and whispered, "Fuckin' A!"

"My sentiments exactly. Look, please...just don't point

fingers at Mulder. He can help you keep Ben alive."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Starkweather

demanded.

"Kid, this is too hard to pull outta thin air. My name's

Calivici. Just look me up in about fifteen years and I'll

explain everything."

"Oh, I'm gonna be dead in fifteen years." Starkweather

smirked "That's comforting."

With that, the man in front of her pushed a couple of

buttons, a bright blue rectangle appeared, the man stepped

through it, and Al was gone.

"Geez...I always thought heaven was white, not blue." she

mumbled, and nursed her hangover with a long bubblebath.

Meanwhile...

Back to the Future...

QL HQ

Doggett REALLY hated wearing the white leotard. He found it

uncomfortably tight, especially around certain sensitive

special areas. He felt like he was walking around with a

permanent wedgie, which would ruin any man's mood.

So Al should have been more forgiving when Doggett bit his

head off when Al popped in to check on him. "What the

hell's been going on???"

Al, tired, annoyed and throughly sick of just about anybody

even remotely connected with the X-Files, glared at him,

"Shut up, Puppy Man," he snapped.

"I see you've been talkin' to Mul-dah," Doggett drawled

nastily.

Al resisted the urge to slug him. "Yeah, I popped in on

Spooky." Al pulled up a chair. "And Starkweather."

Doggett, barely noticeable, softened at her name. "And?"

"Well, he's in jail, she's a mess, other than that," Al

light up a cigar, "Pretty good."

"PRETTY GOOD??" Doggett exploded, taking the cigar out of

Al's mouth and throwing it across the room. He loomed over

Al, thrusting a finger in his face. "Now you listen to me

you slippery son-of-a-bitch, don't you just stand there and

give me smart ass comments about 'pretty good,'" he yelled.

"I'm sick of this BS! I'm sick of gettin' jacked around.

I'm sick of Starkweather getting the shaft because you're

dicking around with me, not telling the whole truth. If

finding Ben's what we gotta do, then let's do it instead of

standing around and pissing in the wind. I'm sick of this

hellhole, I'm sick of these tights, I'm sick of you and I

want to go home."

This time Al didn't hold back his urge to hit Doggett-in-

Sam. His punch landed solidly on his jaw. He stood up and

pushed Doggett away from him. "Now YOU listen to ME, buddy-

boy. I'm just as sick of this crap as you are! I wanna get

rid of you as bad as you want outta here. The only way we

can do that is to put right what went wrong and what went

wrong is Mulder and Starkweather getting killed so instead

of acting like a typical Marine jack ass, act like a god

damn fed. I need your help Doggett. Mulder and Starkweather

are dead in the water if you don't grow the f*ck up!"

Doggett-in-Sam wiped the blood off of his lip. "You throw a

good punch, seaman," he said gruffly.

Al pulled out another cigar and lit it. "Yeah... well..."

Al muttered "my hand's gonna hurt for the next few days."

"Good."

"Can we get to work?"

"Alright."

Verbeena had watched the entire exchanged through the newly

reconstructed two-way mirror, shaking her head.

Men she thought as she went to check on Ziggy. Past,

present, future, it didn't matter, they were still

unfathomable...

"So," Doggett said, subdued. "Wha'cha got?"

Al rubbed his eyes. He was very tired. If Sam had only

gotten three hours of sleep, Al had gotten less. "Well...as

far as info, not much, except confirmation from Ziggy that

Mulder and Starkweather are brother and sister."

If Doggett was surprised by that revelation, he carefully

concealed it. "Did you tell them?" he asked evenly.

"Yeah," Al said, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Actually

that part was kind of fun."

"I assume they took the news less than well."

"Safe assumption," Al nodded. "Anyways, beyond that...

we're still on Square One."

Doggett sat quietly, lost in thought. "There's the old

cliche..." he finally said after enough time had past for

Al to smoke half of his cigar away, "'those who do not

study history are doomed to repeat it.'"

"Boy, ain't that the truth," Al said, "I flunked sixth

grade American history. Had to do a whole session of summer

school or else they were gonna let me go on to junior high.

And I squeaked by with a C minus cus this really cute girl

who liked me wrote my history papers for me..." Al trailed

off, noting that Doggett-in-Sam was once again giving him

the look of death. "Sorry... anyway... continue..."

"I was sayin'" Doggett said patiently, sitting down at the

little table, reaching for the file, "that I think the

truth is in here. In the past. There's gotta be somethin'

more, somethin' we're missing. Somethin' we've got to study

up on to more understand what the holy hell is goin' on."

Doggett got out the legal pad and pen he had received

yesterday. He tore off the page of doodles and the

beginnings of brainstorming and started with a clean sheet.

"Okay, fill in any blanks if you can, Admiral. So," he

began to theorize aloud the list as he wrote, "Now, this

whole mess started a year ago when Mulder and I

investigated the oil rig. A year later, me, Scully and

Starkweather investigate a fighter plane crash whose base

has an fuelling contract with the same said oil rig.

Suddenly, here comes Ben, prosecuting the oil rig for

environmental negligence, a whole year later," he sighed.

"And that's what's getting ME. That's the second thing

doesn't make sense to me." He scrawled on the page his two

questions. "One, what IS the connection between the oil rig

and the plane crash in Scotland-"

Al interrupted. "Starkweather was working on that, but

after her... um, personal difficulties, I asked Mulder to

pick up where she left off."

"Can you get me what she had so far?"

"I can try," Al said. "But remember, in the future, the X-

Files is under lock and key. It was reclassified into a

military jurisdiction and no fed or laymen could get their

hands on any X-File."

Doggett, for the first time in a long time, smiled. "But

you AREN'T a laymen or a fed," he reminded him. "You're a

retired Admiral."

"Ahhhhhhhhhh........" Al said. "I'll get right on that.

What was your second question?"

"My second question is... why did they wait so long to

prosecute Galpex? And for something as weak as

environmental destruction? Why not the murders of the men

on board? I understand that law suits take time... believe

me, I fully understand that... but, from the way

Starkweather was talking, this was sprung onto Ben like

less than three weeks ago... it's like pulling a rookie out

of the minor leagues and telling him he's going to take

Sammy Sosa's place for the day." Doggett shook his head.

"And the revenue the law firm was going to earn from the

case was astronomical..."

"So why let a kid handle it?" Al was beginning to see where

Doggett was going.

"Exactly," Doggett said, opening the file up. "I'm just

wondering if someone dirty is working at the Law Firm of

Carter, Spangle and Adams." He started thumbing through the

file pages. "Someone dirty, someone with power enough to

manipulate case assignments but still being maneuvered by

someone else, someone with a vendetta..."

"Someone like-" Al started to say but Doggett beat him to

the punch.

"Justin Leo."

"Hot damn!" Al yelped in glee, but stopped his victory

dance when he saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Al..." Doggett said, thin-lipped and white. "Maybe I'm

goin' stir crazy and all... but... Mulder's murder date

changed."

"What?" Al said, heart sinking lower and lower into his

bowels.

"I swear to God, it was dated four days from now... now

it's saying time of death, 6:30 PM, June 19... that's

tomorrow night... am I losing my mind?"

"No," Al said, trying to fight off the panic. "That's the

hazards of working in Quantum Leap..." Without saying

goodbye, he stormed out of the chamber, issuing orders at a

bark, "Verbeena, get General Keeling on the phone, tell him

I need File X081601 emailed to me sometime in the next two

hours and remind him he owes me a big time favor since it's

because of me that he's not in jail and he's not divorced.

Tina, darling, me everything there is about Carter, Spangle

and Adams and that little shit Leo. Goushie!!! Find Sam and

center me on him..."

The shitstorm of all time was about to strike.

Meanwhile...

back at the warehouse...

After sleeping for a bit, Ben finally gotten over his

nausea. He managed to even get cleaned up a little bit,

there was a bar of moldering soap on the ancient sink and a

ratty old washcloth. After scraping off the scum from the

soap, he stripped down to his boxers and gave himself a

sink bath, which, afterwards, he felt marginally better.

Air-drying, he sat on his squeaky cot and ate the

sandwiches and fruit left behind for him, surprised to find

himself ravenously hungry. When finished with the meager

meal his captors/protectors left him, he smoked a

cigarette, pondering on his next move.

Feeling better, despite the headache that lingered from the

blow giving to him from CSM, Ben found, to his immense

relief, his wits were beginning to come back together

again.

He did not believe for one red hot minute that Jerilyn was

dead. He did not have any logic or tangible evidence. He

was listening to his heart, for, even though the girl

exasperated him, frustrated him and infuriated him, he knew

she loved him and he, her. They had "clicked" the minute

they met each other. They were tied together through a

force stronger than friendship, stronger than sex, stronger

than marriage. And Ben fully believed in the spiritual ties

between people who loved each other. He would have known,

somehow, if something bad would have happened to her. If

she would have died, he would have felt a part of him die

with her within his soul. They were, he firmly believed,

soul mates.

Just because they were soul mates, didn't necessarily mean

they should have been married, but Ben remembered the

thundering voice of the priest who married them "Let no man

bring asunder what God hast bound together." Which troubled

him, but that was a bridge they would jump off together

once they were finally together again.

Pushing their marital issues onto the back burner, Ben

redressed and began to assess his present situation, which

was not good, he realized with a faltering heart. The door

was metal and barricaded from the outside. There were no

ceiling panels he could climb out of. There were no

windows. Ben didn't even really know how much time had

passed, his watch had been broken during the scuffle with

the Men in Black who had borne him away to this nightmare.

Pacing, smoking another cigarette, Ben, just as big of a

movie buff as his wife, drew strength from quotes from two

of his favorite movies: the line Tom Hank's Oscar winning

character muttered over and over in the movie

"Philadelphia" - "For every problem, there is a solution"

and from Alan Ruck's indelible portrayal of the uptight

Cameron in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" - "I am not just

going to sit on my ass..."

"'I am not going to sit on my ass,'" Ben mumbled, throwing

the butt of his finished cigarette into the toilet and

reaching into the pack of a new one "'For every

situation... there is a solution...'" He told himself that

he had served as a soldier in the United States Air

National Guard. He told himself about the time he and

Jerilyn went to New Orleans for their honeymoon and he had

fought off the thugs who tried to steal Jerilyn's purse

when they had gotten lost in a "bad" part of town. He told

himself that he was married to one of the finest and

sharpest FBI agents ever to have graced the halls of J.

Edgar Hoover, albeit also the crankiest. He was betting on

her tenacity and her arrogance to go blithely off and try

and save the world, to discover the truth behind whatever

lie they fed her about his disappearance.

However, he also knew he couldn't just wait around for

Jerilyn to be leading the cavalry to him. He had to meet

her halfway. He had to get out of this pit. Plus, he

worried greatly, what if he was merely a lure to draw

Jerilyn into the open... these mysterious people, the ones

she had referred to as "The Syndicate" had tried to kill

her once... no... twice... no three times before and that

was just on her first official case on the X-Files. What if

his disappearance was just one big trap?

Ben sighed as he lit his cigarette. Then, his eyes widened

as his looked at the glow of the cherry. His holders had

left him a weapon... they had left his handed unbound and

they left him a weapon.

Ben checked the box of Morleys. He had half a pack left. He

had a lighter. He had the strength of a youthful, free body

to his advantage. He sat down on his cot, smoking, with a

grim smile on his face.

Let that smokey bastard come visit him again. He would get

the burn of his life and then Ben was going to run like

hell.

He had to. He had a goal to live for. He had to keep

together what God hast bound. He was not going to let those

vows be brought assunder by Special Agent John Doggett.

Meanwhile

back at Ben and Jeri's apartment

Jerilyn got out of the tub, shivering. She towelled herself

off and coiled her wet hair in a bun. She crossed over to

her bedroom to get dressed. Just then her phone rang. She

checked the caller ID: **Mom and Dad S**. Jerilyn closed

her eyes. It was the call she had been dreading.

"Hello?"

"Jeri, hi, it's Linda," The voice of Ben's sweet, gentle

mother crackled through. "We hadn't heard from you yet. We

were getting worried." It wasn't intended as a guilt trip,

for Linda Starkweather did play those kind of manipulative

games. She was one of those very rare people who always

always put others in front of her, even when she herself

was in great anguish.

Still, it made Jerilyn feel terrible. "Oh, I'm sorry," she

whispered. "I didn't mean to worry you, it's... these past

two days... have been really hard..."

"I know, I know," Linda's voice was calm but quiet, as if

she had already cried her tears and was now dealing with

the inevitable. "It's been hard for us too. We understand

completely but please, don't keep all of your hurt locked

up within you. You're all we have left of Ben now. I don't

want you to shut us out."

Jerilyn cracked a thin smile. "You know me too well."

"Well, your boss, that nice man... Mr. Skinner? When he

told us... the news... he asked us to look out after you.

He said you weren't taking what happened very well."

Jerilyn pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.

"It's... it's just been really hard," she repeated, her

voice cracking.

"That's why I wanted to get in touch with you. It IS hard,"

Linda said "but we have to stay together to get through

this together." When Ben told her that Jerilyn had lost her

mother to cancer at the tender age of sixteen, Linda went

out of her way to act as a surrogate mom to her. "We're

family, Jeri. Just because Ben's gone, doesn't mean we're

still not family."

Fresh grief ripped Jerilyn apart. "Okay..." she whimpered

to her mother-in-law. "Okay..."

"We would love it if you would come stay with us for

awhile. Or else Luke and I can come and stay with you...

I... wouldn't mind looking through Benjamin's things for

some keepsakes..."

A fresh wave of guilt crashed over her. A bad memory gushed

forth... the night she had left for Scotland... the huge

fight she gotten into with Ben because she was leaving for

a case while his parents had made a special trip from

Minneapolis to DC to visit... "I would love it if you would

come," she said. "That would be really nice."

"We would like the funeral to be here... to have Ben buried

in the family plot."

"That's not a problem..." Jerilyn clutched the phone. "Ben

would want that." The ultimate irony. Ben would be going

home at last.

"We can arrange the funeral from here... but Jeri, dear.

Could you pick out a suit for him? Or maybe get his dress

blues (his formal uniform from his days in the Air National

Guard) dry-cleaned? I know..." now Linda's voice cracked.

"I know the funeral has to be closed-casket and all,

but..."

"I think he'd want to be buried in his blues. I'll get

those ready." Jerilyn gulped, took a deep breath and asked,

"How's Luke?"

"Oh... he's taking this hard. We all are." Linda said

softly, "He's been spending alot of time at church, talking

it over with Father Anderson... trying to make sense of it

all."

"Tell him... tell him Ben died a hero..." Jerilyn still

fought against the tears. "Tell him Ben was just trying to

do what he thought was right..."

Silence. Then the sound of muffled weeping. "Yes. Yes... I

will tell him. Stay in touch, Jerilyn."

"I will..."

"We'll see you soon."

"Alright... goodbye." Jerilyn put the receiver down. "He

was just trying to do what was right..." she repeated as

she stood up to get dressed. She slipped on a pair of

khakis shorts and a sleeveless black turtleneck sweater.

She went to the closet and started digging for his old

uniform, which she found easily enough, but was unsure as

to where his decorations and dress shoes would be.

Standing on her tiptoes, she looked at the neat rows of

labelled boxes on the top shelf. Finally, she found the one

marked "Air Force Stuff" and she pulled it down.

When she took that box down, the one on top of that fell to

the floor, landing upside down. Putting the Air Force box

on the bed, Jerilyn crouched down to pick up the fallen box

but all the contents fell out. "Oh God..." she moaned,

sitting down, Indian style, casting the empty box aside.

Baby clothes. Tiny little shoes. A pacifer and some small

stuffed toys. The things Linda had bought for her at Baby

Gap and Toys 'R Us that horrible, horrible day they went

shopping at the Mall of America for her unborn child. Her

hospital wristband they had put on her when paramedics

wheeled her into the emergency as the baby left her body in

a quagmire of blood and fluids. A bouquet of dried roses,

what Ben had brought her when she was finally released from

Intensive Care and into a regular hospital room.

Jerilyn reached for the little stuffed Beanie Baby teddy

bear and held it close to her.

You're all we have left of Ben now. Linda had said.

But I have nothing Jerilyn thought and clutching the

small stuffed toy, she leaned against the dresser and began

to cry.

Later that afternoon

5:47 PM

Washington, D.C.

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

"Dana," the Admiral said as they climbed into the car. "I

wish I could say something to make you understand why I

worked with those people."

"The only thing I understand is that a man is dead and

another man's life for all intents and purposes is over"

Scully fired back, "because you didn't give your daughter

the chance to fight for herself."

Aside from the pleasantries and occasional considerations,

not another word was said between them for the rest of the

flight.

Instead of taking a second class plane back, as angry as

she was, Scully didn't decline the Admiral's offer to take

his private jet.

After an hour and a half of uncomfortable silence, Scully

was glad to get off the plane with the Admiral. She really

felt sympathy for Starkweather. She was going to have to

learn the truth about her father and the man who raised

her, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

They finally made it to her apartment but Scully couldn't

help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the old family

friend. He's right, after all. She would have done the same

for William. Without a second hesitation.

"Admiral, for what it's worth, she's a strong woman." She

said as they pulled up to her apartment. "I think she would

have been able to protect herself just fine. I just hope

you two can make amends once the air clears."

"Dana, I owe it to Lynn to be honest about this. I am going

to come clean with her. If I ever hope of earning her trust

and respect back, we must be truthful."

"Admiral, can I ask you something?"

"Sure Dana." He replied slowly.

"Is Ben still alive?"

"Dana--you did his autopsy."

"No." Dana answered bluntly, "Ben had brown eyes. The man I

did an autopsy on had blue eyes. Last time brown eyes

turned blue was in a song. Is your son-in-law still living?

Before you answer that, you better think good and hard

about the criminal charges I promise you'd be facing for

aiding and abetting a murder."

"Is that a threat Dana?" He tested.

"Sir, I think that's a garauntee." Scully fired back, with

a look that didn't need the barrell of a gun to accompany

it.

Suddenly, the Admiral looked about forty years older as he

sighed defeatedly, looking as though all the air had been

let out of him.

"At least I feel safe with my little girl in the FBI with

you watching her back."

"Sir, like you said, you owe it to your family to come

clean with this. Please." Scully pleaded with him now, "No

more lies. No more half-truths. No more excuses."

"Yes." He admitted softly. Ben's alive. He's in the Lincoln

Warehouse being held there."

"Thank you sir. I hope Jerrilyn can forgive you easier than

I can.

With that, Scully climbed out of the cab, and the Admiral

whipped out his cell phone as the cab drove off.

"God, I hate these things." He mumbled to himself. "Leo,"

He said as soon as Justin answered, "make sure the

councelor is moved from his current location."

Meanwhile...

Back at Ben and Jeri's apartment

Jerilyn had cried herself back to sleep. Sleep was such a

welcome escape, when she wasn't plagued by strange dreams.

The phone woke her up with a start. Jerilyn crawled to the

nightstand and looked at the caller ID. **Admiral's cell**,

it read.

Jerilyn grabbed the phone. "Dad?"

Alone, in his hotel room, the Admiral nursed a drink.

"Angel," he said.

"Dad... Ben... he's gone... they killed him," she began to

blubber incoherently.

"Jeri, Jeri, I know, I know... I heard the news... angel,

I'm so sorry..." The Admiral was sickened by his own

hypocrisy but the wheels had already been set in motion. He

only hoped that Scully would find Ben in time, despite the

phone call to Leo. In time to save Ben, but only after

Mulder was eliminated. If there was only a way to save

all three the Admiral mourned, for he genuinely liked

Mulder, had sought him out to save Jerilyn from the

Syndicate. But the Syndicate had discovered his double-

cross and now someone would have to pay the price. Not Ben.

And definitely not Jerilyn. Not his little girl. He already

had to sacrifice Lynnette, his first wife.

Plus... there might... however slim... there might be a

chance that Mulder could even save himself, although the

Admiral wondered how. But then again, this was a man who

nearly drowned, escaped a burning train car, survived from

being lost in the desert and being lost in the Anarctic,

defused a bomb threat in a bank, was abducted by God-only-

knows-what, hell, literally rose from the dead... there

might be a chance.

The Cancer Man had referred to Mulder as the alley cat with

nine times nine times nine lives. The Admiral, perhaps due

to his retirement in Arizona, had thought of Mulder more

along the lines of the Phoenix, the beautiful mythological

bird who purposely built a funeral pyre only to rise from

the flames, more powerful and lustrous than before.

As he listened to his twenty-eight year old daughter weep

for her husband,he sincerely hoped Mulder would pass

through these flames unscathed.

But he doubted it.

And so, it was up to Scully to save Ben. He prayed that she

wouldn't be killed in the process, he'd hate to see William

grow up an orphan.

"Jerilyn, angel, believe me," he said, breaking into his

daughter's sobs. "It will get better," hopefully with

Mulder out of the way and Ben home.

Starkweather was sound asleep finally after the emotional

exhaustion of her mother-in-law's phonecall. And then again

with her adoptive father. The room was dark when she awoke

from her couch. The abrupt reality was finally sinking into

her system. She had dabbled in a few psychology courses at

Quantico. What did that chapter on grief say? Her

photographic memory told her that there were five stages of

the process.

She wondered if people who had made that process up had

ever actually experienced deep grief. Acceptance was the

last stage of grief, but it seemed to Starkweather that she

had already accepted the fact that she was dead. Shock and

denial were the first two steps and she seemed to have

skipped those altogether.

The news of Ben's death immediately sparked anger. Anger at

Ben for leaving her, especially without reconciliation, but

Ben wasn't at arm's length. Mulder, unfortunately for her

future working relationship with Scully and Doggett, was.

Bargainning was the next stage. To Starkweather's mind, she

had absolutely nothing to bargain with. If they hadn't

fought that night, Ben wouldn't have died. But, Jerilyn

thought with a sigh, she wasn't the first widow. People die

every day as long as people have been living. Simple as

that. It was a common tragedy and there wasn't a damn thing

she could do about changing that fact except making sure

the people who did this to him paid for their crimes. Maybe

then Ben's ghost would let her rest.

Starkweather was jolted out of her thoughts with the shrill

ring of the phone.

"Mrs. Starkweather, this is Jessy Spangle on behalf of

Carter, Spangle and Adams. I'm calling to personally offer

condolances on behalf of all of us here. We all miss him."

"Thank you." she said softly.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss. I hate to bring this up at

such a tragic time as this, but Mr. Starkweather's personal

affects are still in his office..." the man trailed off

awkwardly.

"Oh--I--uh--completely forgot. I'm terribly sorry, Ms.

Spangle." Starkweather stammerred sheepishly.

"Mrs. Starkweather," she corrected, "if you would prefer, I

can get his things delivered to your apartment.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that." She said softly. Then,

lightening-quick, she had an idea. "Can you send me the

files of his last case?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we can't, Mrs. Starkweather," she

answered. "That information is in the senior partner's

hands now to prepare for prosecution of the upcomming

murder trial of Deputy Mayor Mulder."

"I thought the DA typically handled situations such as

those." She fired back. "Since when does an environmental

practice take care of murder charges."

"We are part of the D.A.'s argument on a consultant level."

Jessy replied coolly. "Mr. Starkweather's case was a direct

result of the Deputy Mayor's arrest, and we are continuing

with the investigation in his memory."

"I see." Jerilyn answered. "Thank you. Have a good

evening."

She needed access to that casefile from the lawfirm's

database. Unfortunately, the only people she knew who could

hack into that file were three people in the running for

computer geeks of the year.

Meanwhile.....

Sam pulled up in front of Starkweather's apartment

building, slightly apprehensive. Starkweather, to say the

least had almost left the Land of Sanity for a trip to La

La Land.

With trepidation, he let himself in and rang her doorbell.

Starkweather opened the door, "Hey Papa John," she said,

with a weak smile. Sam noted, with a little amusement, that

Starkweather was not an attractive lady when she wept or

recovering from a bout of tears. Her eyes were bloodshot

and her face was blotchy. Starkweather must have realized

how un-pretty she looked because she said wryly "Yes, I

don't cry like a Hollywood glamour puss. My nose drips with

snot, my eyes get all red..." she shook her head. "Come on

in, Doggett."

Sam did. "You should have called," he chided her.

Starkweather shrugged. "Yeah... well..."

"Starkweather..."

"I know I know... stop being a lone soldier, let others

help you, but dammit Doggett... tell me who the fuck I can

trust? Skinner--understandably--is pissed at me because

I've been less than professional... Scully is awesome...

but... lord... I knew she and Mulder had some sort of thing

going on... but I didn't know it was THAT serious...

I mean I heard the rumors that Mulder may very well be the

proud papa of Will... but... well... what if Mulder's guilty

you know? Shit, man... I feel like I can't even trust my own

father... I can't even trust my own MIND... I had a mental

breakdown earlier... I'm seeing things... a person who's

not even there... so who? Who can I trust?"

"Me," Sam put his hands on her shoulders. "You can trust

me, Doc."

Starkweather looked up him. "Yeah..." She clenched and

unclenched her fists over and over. "Doggett, if you

weren't here... I don't know..." she looked at the ground,

trying not to succumb to a fresh bout of tears, trying to

revert back into FBI mentality. "I'm going to get the...

um... Lone Gunmen to hack into the mainframe of Carter,

Spangle and Adams so I can get ahold of the oil rig case

that Ben was working on... I swear to God... there's a

connection to this... and I owe Ben at least this much...

to figure out exactly why he was..." She put her hand to

her eyes. "Oh god dammit Doggett," she whimpered, "Things

with me and Ben were supposed to be BETTER when we moved

here."

Sam drew her close to him. "Starkweather... as hard as it

is to believe right now... it will get better..."

Starkweather didn't respond, she had lost her battle with

the weak tears and was sobbing silently into his chest.

Sam so desperately wanted to kiss her. Not to "start"

anything, he respected her too much just to jump into the

sack with her. Just to comfort her, to give her physical

reassurance, to make her like that someone gave a damn.

But Ben was still alive... and he didn't think the real

Doggett would have, so he just cuddled her.

Just then, Al appeared.

7:43pm

Sedai Residence

Ana Sedai sat in her kitchen nervously fidgetting with her

coffee mug waiting for the water to boil. Her hair,

originally mousey brown and now dyed a vibrant red,

glistened in the light of the setting sun shining through

the window. She thought the light almost looked tangible

just then, the way the beams came up through the clouds. If

you found just the right spot, she wondered if you could

climb up to the very sun itself.

Her brother Justin was on his way over for dinner with her

family that evening. She hoped, for his sake as well as her

own, that he had let Lily rest in peace.

Ana was good friends with Lily before she disappeared.

They had gone to church together, sat side by side in the

choir, worked side by side at charity functions. The weeks

before graduation, Lilly had bored Ana to tears with

stories of how wonderful her step-brother was. She

remembered Justin showing her the ring he was planning to

give her and wondering flipantly if he would ever actually

have the guts to give it to her.

"That would be Justin." She said quietly, sighing anxiously

as she went to answer the door.

Her son Peter was sitting in the greatroom zombily staring

at the television set. Sometimes she wondered if he was

conscious of what he was looking at. If she was going to

have a heart-to-heart with her step-brother, he would have

to go.

"Peter, honey," she chirpped sweetly, "can you go play

video games in your room while I talk with your uncle?"

Without a word, the boy left the room, and she opened the

door.

"You look...tired...Jus." she said after they hugged their

hellos.

"Just a lot going on these days, Ana. Big case at work

piling up on me. Where's Mr. Sedai?"

"He's got a convention in Boston, Justin," she looked at

him frankly, "you're not a part of a lawfirm anymore."

"Who told you?" he demanded.

"You still have my house listed as your mailing address.

Your unemployment check came Thursday." She said with a

thin, wan smile crossing her lips, waving the check like a

white flag.

"I'm working...with some people that may help me find

Lily, Ana." he said, sighing heavily. "They told me they

know where she is and a man told me he could get her back."

"Do you really think Lilly is going to want you anymore?"

She fired back. "You're not the same man you were the night

she left!" Her words seared into him. "This--obsession--you

have with her--has turned you into some kinda monster.

You're not a man anymore." she said sadly. "You're her

ghost."

"I don't know what else to do, Ana." He whispered hoarsely.

"I can't give up on her. I don't even care if she would

still marry me anymore. My life is no longer my own. I

can't sleep--I barely eat enough to live. If these people

are who they say they are and can help me find her--then

maybe I can be redeemed. I am the reason those--those--

things took her. The worst part of it is," he said,

choaking down sobs, "I didn't do a damn thing to stop it. I

just let that beam carry her up. I just let them take her

away."

"Be fair to you, Jus. To me." She pleaded. "Could you

honestly have done something without getting yourself

killed?"

"The scary part is, ever since that night, I don't think

I've been alive."

"Do you think Lilly would be happy right now knowing what

this has done to you? Now," she said with a warm smile,

"come on and help me with the salad."

The dinnertable was nervously quiet; forged conversations

had never been either one's forte. The meal, consisting of

Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes overdone limabeans and

a salad, gave all who were present a gratefull excuse to be

silent.

Finally, Peter broke the silence with an announcement after

one last long gulp of milk. "The coach wants us there

forty-five minutes early for pictures at practice tomorrow,

Mom."

"I hated picture days when I was your age." Justin began.

"This one time, I was on a team just like you are and we

had to take a picture, only just before, two of the guys on

my team had bothered a wasp nest under the bleachers. Right

before picture time, a whole bunch of wasps came flying at

all of us. We musta looked pretty silly all nine of us

hopping into the Coach's van!"

"I betchya would've looked even sillier in the pictures if

the wasps hadn't come." Peter sneared.

"Eat your limabeans, Peter." Ana scolded her son crisply.

"If you don't finish them you won't get desert."

"Your Mom has cherry pie tonight, Pete. You better eat up."

Justin urged helpfully.

"I don't like cherry pie." Peter grumbled.

"You haven't had *this* cherry pie." Justin coaxed.

"I've had five peices of cherry pie, and I didn't like any

of 'em. Why should I like the sixth."

"Your mom didn't make this one." That remark earned Justin

a playful punch in the shoulder from his step-sister.

"We have your favorite icecream--the Ben&Jerry's Phishfood

in the freezer. That's where it will stay if you don't

finish up your limabeans."

"Besides, kiddo, you gotta eat your veggies. If you don't

you'll look like me and girls won't touch you with a ten

foot pole."

That persuaded the boy to eat his lima beans. With those

finished, he took his plate over to the sink, and the other

two adults followed.

"He's at a difficult age." She said, excusing his attitude.

"So am I." Justin replied as he began clearning the dishes.

"So how's the jobhunt coming?" Ana asked as she ran the

plates under the faucet.

"I told you, I've got a job." Justin answered, subsequently

loading the plates into the dishwasher. "I'm defending the

Deputy Mayor of DC. It's all in the papers."

"Yeah, I heard about that. The case any good?" She said

over the running water rinsing the silverware.

"All the evidence against him is circumstantial. The DA's

got nothing solid on him." He said over the clinking of the

silverware in the dishwasher.

"I don't think you're telling me everything, Justin."

"I don't think you need to know everything, Ana."

"Listen, Jus. I'm looking out for *you* here. Your my half-

brother...but I never thought of us like that. I just don't

want anything to happen to you because of someone who may

or may not be alive."

"When the Deputy Mayor was in the FBI, he specialized in

alien activity. If he can't help me find her, then the

people who put me on that case can."

"What do you mean?" She demanded, raising a questionning

eyebrow.

"These people who put me on this case...they're fighting a

cause...this old guy and this blonde Russian b*tch are at

the healm. They have a lot of power."

"Jus...these people sound dangerous." She answered angrily.

"They're powerful, too, Ana." He fired back desperately.

"They can get me the answers I've been after ever since

that awful night."

"I just don't want you to be wiped off the face of this

earth like that poor girl was. You are in way over your

head Big Brother," she warned.

"I think I was in way over my head with Lilly." He answered

softly.

"Remember when we were kids? I think when they hire faculty

for the school, they ask for teachers, a principal, a vice

principal and a bully. Anyway...it was your last year in

grammar school and it was my second year, and you found out

somehow that a bunch of bullies were stealing my lunch

money. You went to confront them, but got into a brawl."

Her features became drawn... "They broke your nose, and

fractured your wrist...if the teacher didn't break it up, I

think you would've had a broken neck. You've always done

stuff like that. I'm just wondering when the teacher won't

come out to save your ass."

"I'll turn the porch light off on my way out." Justin

growled and stormed out the door. Ana hoped that he wasn't

going to get bitten by the sharks.

Out of her giant bay window, Ana watched Justin storm off

the porch and down the sidewalk towards his car in a huff.

She heard a buzzing noise in the background...

"Mom," Peter said, rolling his eyes in typical pre-teen

fashion. "MOOOOOOOOOOM... hell-LO, earth to Mom."

Startled out of her reverie, Ana turned to her boy. "What?"

she said, a little more tired than she meant to be.

Sometimes, Justin just drained the life out of her.

"Phone," Peter said. As Ana walked back to the kitchen,

Peter tailed her. "Hey, Mom, can I go to Mike's house

tonight?"

"Clean your room first," Ana said automatically which sent

her son grumbling upstairs. She picked the phone up.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Sedai?" A swarmy male voice asked.

"Yes?" Oh no, a telemarketer she groaned inwardly.

"You have five minutes to get out of the house." Dial tone.

Ana raced out of the kitchen and to the foot of the stairs.

"Pete! Peter, come down here, now!"

Peter, alarmed by the panicky tone of her voice, actually

came down immediately. "Wha-" he started to say but his

mother grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the

door...

Justin Leo was four blocks away from his half-sister's

house when he saw the explosion in the rearview mirror.

Cutting off a Suburu while doing an illegal U-turn, he

floored it back to Ana's house...

The wailing of fire trucks were in the distance. Startled

neighbors were standing in their doorframes stunned. A few

had come to their senses and were coming out to assist the

figures laying in the middle of the road.

Leo squealled his tires to a halt and ran to Ana, who was

sitting up, holding a weeping Peter. "Peter, Peter, buddy,"

Leo grabbed the boy's face and kissed his forehead soundly.

"Are you hurt?"

The boy shook his head but pointed to the hole in the

ground where his house used to. "Smokey was in the house,"

he sobbed, referring to his beloved dog.

As the ambulances pulled up to assist a shaken Ana and her

devastated son, Leo's cell phone began to ring. He answered

as the paramedics lifted Ana onto a stretcher. "What?"

"Consider that a warning, Leo," Marita Covarrubias hissed.

"I told you to get your ass to the safe house." She hung up

the phone with a vengence.

That little punk she seethed, better get his

priorities in line. He worked for HER, not CSM, not the

Admiral. He worked for her and he screwed up royally. She

was glad she had the foresight to put listening devises in

Ana's house years ago when Leo came to work for her. She

figured it would keep him honest. Now he just about blew

the entire mission to her. So, Marita reasoned, she blew up

the house.

Next time he screwed up, she'd make sure she'd kill more

that just a dog.

"You two are staying with me tonight. Peter, on the week-

end, we'll go to the pet store and get you another dog,

alright?"

"I don't want another dog." Peter mumbled, horrified of the

thought that Smokey was as replacible as his clothes.

"Peter, don't talk that way to your Uncle." Ana scolded,

then turned her wrath on Leo, who had just finished talking

with the police. "Justin, what if the--those people--the

ones who burnt down my house come after you?" She seethed.

"Justin, whatever the hell it is you've gotten into, I want

you out! I don't give a damn what you do to yourself

anymore, but I will NOT let you destroy my son!"

"How come you can yell at him but I can't?" Peter whined,

but wished he could take it back as soon as he saw the

damning glare his mother flashed him. The defensive,

recoiled look in Leo's eyes made Ana realize the harshness

of her words.

"Oh, Jus...I didn't mean it like that--" she immediately

apologized.

"It's ok...and you're right." He said, sighing heavily.

"The people after me may hit again. I should have thought

of that. I'll put you and Pete in a hotel tonight until I

figure out how to stop these people."

"Justin...I have lost my house." She said pointedly. "I

think I deserve to know what the hell is going on."

Meanwhile...

In Coffee is My Friend 24 hr Coffee shop

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

"Ana..." Justin began, fiddling with the cigarette holder

in his breast pocket. Ben tried to use the lighter as a

weapon in the struggle a couple of nights ago, and with

possible traces of skin and fingernail on it, there was no

way he was going to let it be found in the car. Not wanting

to look at her, he simply replied, "I can't."

"Jus," Ana countered, "we were almost blown up tonight.

Everything I own is GONE...you HAVE to tell me."

"If I tell you, they'll kill all of us."

"Who's *they*?" She demanded

"Them." Leo answered flatly. "I seriously don't know who

THEY are beyond a group of people I work for." Then eager

to end the conversation, he steered the topic, "Come on,

you need to find a place to stay. The sooner we get you

guys outta here, the safer you are."

"You mean the safer *you* are." She hissed. "Justin exactly

what have you gotten yourself into?"

"Deep shit." was all Leo could answer.

"Apparently." Ana snorted. "I can't handle this Justin,"

she said with a frustrated sigh, "I love you, but if you

don't stop dealing with this group, I'm going to have to

put a restraining order on you."

"I don't blame you, Ana. Look...I'm sorry for all the

trouble I caused."

"When all is said and done, do you think it will really

help you find Lily?" she asked quietly.

"Yes...they promised me that...but if that means you shut

me out then..." Leo couldn't finish.

"Are these people good at keeping promises?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you should get out. Get away from them. Get a fresh

start."

"I don't think I can."

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

"Marita, you should have been more careful." The Admiral

reprimanded. "Blowing up a house like that only makes us

high profile. The police will want to know what's going

on."

"I made sure that there's nothing left to investigate. No

arsen charges will be made tonight. Look, old man," she

seethed, "I had to make sure that cocky little shit knew

who was in charge."

"Are you in charge, my dear?" The Admiral demanded.

"If the human race can keep the illusion that we're in

control of this planet just a little bit longer, and if

that means keeping Spender and Leo in check, then yes...I'm

in charge."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The same way anyone is sure of anything." She said with a

sly smile. "By not thinking too hard about it."

The news was all over the explosion in the quiet suburbian

neighborhood. The Lone Gunmen, still so stunned by their

recent discovery of the link between Mulder and

Starkweather however, probably would have paid no mind to

the horrifying event if Langly hadn't looked up at the TV

and said "Crap."

"What?" Frohike adjusted his glasses, smudged with

fingerprint dust. The boys were trying to deduce who the

benefactor of their package was.

"You guys missed it," Langly said. "A house blew up for no

reason in the 'burbs and guess who was in the

neighborhood?"

"Tom Hanks?"

"No... and Byers what kind of stupid, lame-ass answer is

'Tom Hanks'?"

"Well... he did make that terrible comedy called "The

'Burbs", naturally this was all pre- 'Sleepless in

Seattle', 'Philadelphia', 'Forest Gump' and let's see... oh

yes! 'You've Got Mail' and 'Saving Private Ryan' and

'Castawa-"

"Hey, Leonard Maltin!" Frohike snapped. "Get to the point."

"Well, I was merely making an attempt at humor since the

atmosphere has been quite dark ever since we made the

discovery that Mulder and Mrs. Starkweather share more that

just the supreme talent of getting under everyone's skin."

"You're just pissed because she made you crap your pants

when she stuck that gun in your face, Virgin Monkey Boy."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!"

"Dudes!" Langly broke in. "Mulder's lawyer was in the

neighborhood."

Frohike shrugged. "So?"

"Well..." Langly babbled. "Doesn't that strike you as kinda

weird?"

"Why?"

Langly paused. "I dunno," he admitted.

"Langly," Frohike spluttered, absolutely frustrated. "I

think the peroxide is soaking into your brain. And I can't

find one damn print on this box."

"What about the vials?"

"Worthless. We handled them too much."

"Wait a minute..." Byers said quietly, going to the

computer.

"What?" Langly asked.

"Langly, you may have for once in you life, been observant

about something."

"So the LSD didn't kill off ALL of his braincells? That's a

relief," Frohike grumbled.

"Well... call me insane-"

"Insane," Langly and Frohike droned at the same time.

"But personally, I think it would be odd that a prominent

lawyer would be at the site of an explosion but not

necessarily damning..."

"So... how was I observant?" Langly demanded.

"Well, when you pointed out Mr. Leo to us on the TV, that

reminded me that I had asked one of our associates to get

documented history on Mr. Leo, because... again... another

coincidence... when I spoke to Mulder on the phone-"

"When did you get to talk to Mulder?" Frohike pouted.

Byers ignored him "-he mentioned his defense attorney was

from Carters, Spangle and Adams... which was the law firm

Mr. Starkweather worked for..." Byers opened his email and

saw a message from Jimmy Bond with a ZIP attachment.

"Now... does that strike you as odd?" he queried as he

opened the email and waited for the ZIP file to download.

"No." Langly said. Frohike stood on his tiptoes and slapped

him upside the head. "Ow!!!"

"Why would a lawyer from the firm Ben was working at send a

lawyer to defend Mulder?"

"Cause lawyers are dogs?"

Frohike hit him again.

"Stop that!"

"Well," Byers said mildly. "Not all, but THIS lawyer is a

dog, like I suspected."

"Wha'cha got?" Frohike leaned in closer.

"HR records from CS and A. Mr. Leo was terminated from the

firm as of May 13, 2002. And this... if Jimmy did his

job..." Byers double-clicked his mouse. "Ah ha..."

Langly and Frohike looked at the jibber-jabber on the

scene. "What the hell is that?"

"Data retrieved from Washington DC Workforce Development.

Mr. Leo is a lawyer on unemployment." Byers clicked on the

next file. "His bank statement Yves hacked from Wells Fargo

site. Virtually empty."

"So what the hell is going on?" Frohike said. "If he's

getting a payoff, where is it? And what made you so

suspious of Leo in the first place?"

"Mulder said that Leo is doing this case pro-bono."

"AHhhhhhhhhh," Langly and Frohike said.

"And, well, when Mulder said that... I had to do a little

digging. Find out what kind of character that this Mr.

Justin Leo is. And I find this..." Byers shook his head.

"But when we got that package... I completely forgot all

about Leo and the case."

"Me too," Langly admitted.

Frohike closed his eyes. "Guys... we've been had."

Byers and Langly exchanged confused looks. "I don't

follow," Byers said slowly.

"This," Frohike held up the note from the package. "'The

answers are in here?' Bullshit. We were sent this to keep

us busy. To throw us off the trail..."

"Because the answers in there..." Langly said, putting the

pieces together. "would distract us from what we were

working with Mulder and Dog-breath in the first place...

The fucking oil rig!" he cried as he raced to his computer

and started to type frantically on his computer. Then, his

body slumped in his sit, head lolling back in defeat.

"We're too late. There's massive firewalls built around the

Galpex site. They even found the rabbit-holes we created

and filled them. It's going to take time to get back in

there."

"Time we ain't got." Frohike ran his fingers through what

was left of his hair. "F*ck," he muttered inaudibly.

"I hear ya, brother," Langly groaned, pulled on his own

hair in frustration. "Why were we so stupid????"

Byers scratched his beard. "We're not stupid." He said in

his quiet voice. "We were distracted by the red herring.

But we are not stupid." Byers began to type. "Mrs.

Starkweather was working on a connection between the oil

rig and the Air Force base where the downed planes came

from and I think it's safe to say that the USAF and the FBI

have not strengthened their firewalls as Galpex has."

Frohike and Langly raised their head. "Well, Hippie,"

Frohike said. "Make some coffee...."