Meanwhile....
Back in Jail...
Do not cross Go
Do not collect $200...
um.... sorry... anyways....
Manny was sound asleep, snoring loudly as drool dribbled
down his face. Mulder paid him no mind. Under the guise of
reading a book, Mulder was trying to quietly finish piecing
together what Starkweather had started.
But first he had to get inside her head. Oh God... he
moaned to himself, little realizing that Starkweather had
the same reaction when she had decided to profile him.
"Alright, Jerilyn," Mulder closed his eyes remembering
their first encounter. He had by surprised at her small
frame and baby face. She was a woman creeping towards
middle-age with extreme defiance. Nature had been very kind
to her, and Mulder remembered she was damn well how kind
Nature was to her and used Nature's kindness to her
advantage, lulling people into a sense of security... until
they pissed her off and she opened her mouth.
Judging by their few and far inbetween meetings, for
Starkweather did not hide the fact she was not overtly fond
of him and so did not make a point to talk to him, unless
she absolutely had to, Mulder knew for a fact she rarely
backed down from confrontation. Plus she was not afraid of
using force, at all, Mulder recalled, ruefull rubbing his
neck where she tried to choke him. B*tch he couldn't
help thinking. But her violent outbust only proved what
Mulder had thought from the beginning, if someone could
look beyond the childishly sweet face and into her eyes and
ignore the cutting tongue, they would see the passionate
and loyal heart that drove Starkweather into doing what she
believed was right. Coupled with her feral intelligence
that could took swipes at people's foolishness and
corruption fearlessly, someday she would be a force to
reckon with. But not until she learned to curb her
naturally salty tongue. Her mouth and her attitude was
going to get her in trouble time and time again until she
grew up. In fact, Mulder's ears still rang with the snarls
of his first fight with her, when she had busted him and
the Lone Gunmen for trying "To break into my home, to
tamper with my phones, to add surveillance cameras to
monitor my movements for my protection? That a little Air
Force medic retiree and current FBI agent, who survived
Basic training, medical training, FBI training and a
Slipknot concert is so inept at self-defense that a
illegally placed surveillance equipment is going to be
adequate protection?"
"I don't doubt your abilities to take care of yourself,
Jerilyn," Mulder said patiently. "You're a very capable,
competent woman-"
"Gee, can you be any more patronizing?"
"Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, do you have an open mind?"
"It's fairly open, but not so much that my brains fall
out."
"Jerilyn, you need to listen to me now, your life is in
danger."
"I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due to
my choice"
"I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due
to my choice."
And that was the stumbling block, Mulder reasoned, keeping
Starkweather from achieving healthy self-actualization.
**I'm.** **My life** **My choice** Her pride and her
arrogence and fear of loss, fear of being alone. Never a
**we** heard anywhere.
Mulder smiled and shook his head. Like looking in a
mirror he sighed to himself.
Pushing his own issues aside, he delved deeper into
Starkweather's psyche. As of right now, she believes her
husband is dead and her dedication to duty and honor is
probably fueling the fire of guilt that's burning her up.
She believes that she should have stopped Ben from his
fool's errand and now that he's gone, she owes it to him to
find the truth.
Why does that sound familiar? he wondered before his
profiling went on...
So where would she go for answers? Well... she probably
checked HIM inside and out. If she was as good as people
were saying, Mulder thought smugly, then her profile is not
going to match the true "murder" suspects, which will raise
the hairs on the back of her neck. So now she's dealing
with whether to believe or not believe, to be or not to be,
the eternal question. Unable to handle emotions, she
probably hides away to cry, only to come out feeling worse,
but in extreme denial and harboring much guilt, she will
try to shove those feelings even deeper down, trying to be
professional...
Until a gesture of sadness or kindness makes her crack.
Mulder sighed. Or a hologram appearance, that could make
her crumble.
So... Mulder backed up. While she was in professional
mode, she probably went back to square one. That damn oil
rig. There was a reason why Ben was ordered to prosecute it
and why he was silenced for it. Mulder wondered how far
back in the oil rig case did she go? Did she explore the
history of the vicious Black Oil known as Purity?
She would have... Mulder believed... or at least... I would
have...
He scoured his memory for the conversation he and Scully
had after her mission to Scotland, with Doggett and
Starkweather in tow. Incidently, it was Starkweather's
first X-File.
The Lone Gunman had just brought him to Scully's after his
futile attempt to make the Hurricane understand how much
danger she really was in. He was retchedly ill, literally.
Before Scully brought him to bed, he threw up her favorite
shoes.
After she took his temperature and listened to him whine
about how he felt like such a loser, a puppet, a sell-out,
thoughts planted by the benevolent Starkweather herself.
Scully had basically told him to stop whining because she
was there and together, they had battled worse odds. To
change the subject, Mulder had asked her about the trip.
"A complete diaster," she had said, once again mopping his
hot brow with the soft, cool, damp cloth. "We lost our only
witness and the legal evidence was confiscated by the
United States Army. It's under lock and key, we can't touch
it. The case is dead in the water."
"Legal evidence?" Mulder had rasped, striken with
bronchitis. He remember how much it hurt to breath, how
much effort it took to even keep his eyes open, but he
wanted to listen. He wanted to stay awake. "Are you
implying that there's not-so-legal evidence?"
"Starkweather killed a bounty hunter. She doesn't believe
that it was alien, of course, but... anyway... samples of
the blood was collected to be sent to Quantico, but Doggett
took one of the samples."
"Doggett?" Mulder had hardly been able to contain his
mirth, despite how bad he felt. "Puppy-Man?"
"Stop it Mulder," Scully gestured Mulder to sit up, which
he did. Scully slid behind him and he rested his head on
her, closing his eyes as she continued to bathe his face,
throat and chest with the cooling water. "And when we
examined the downed aircraft, Starkweather noticed an
abnormality with the c*ckpit shield... she said the glass
looked to be heated enough to liquidify, then cooled down
and solidify again. Starkweather helped herself to a piece
of glass." Mulder had chuckled. "Mulder, it's not funny.
They violated a crime scene, they disturbed evidence..."
"Scully, Scully, Scully, how often has our work been
sabotaged? I think Starkweather and Doggett are engaging in
a little CYA if you ask me." Mulder had sighed in
exhaustion and relief when he felt Scully's cool fingers
rub his temples. "But you still have no idea why this plane
went down?"
"I can't think of any. Starkweather was muttering she might
have a hunch, but before she said anything, she passed out
and Doggett took her home." Mulder had startled at that,
tried to sit up, but Scully had pushed him gently back down
against her again. "Remember how I told you that van the
bounty hunters were driving were hurtling towards her? She
threw herself across the hood of another car to avoid being
mowed down by the runaway truck. Also an Army lietenant
hurt her arm pretty badly. Come to think of it... she also
hit her head pretty hard when we had to make that emergency
landing in Rome... I'm surprised she held up this long."
"But you don't remember what her hunch was?"
"Mulder, don't press. It's not good for you, it's not good
for me. You're sick and I'm tired." She had stroked his
hair and used the same soothing voice that she did with
little Will when he was fussing. "Mulder, just let it go...
it'll be fine, just rest, just close your eyes and let it
go..."
And Mulder had let go and fallen into fitful sickly sleep
until the LGM returned from the errand to the drugstore
like Scully asked him. She had roused him enough to take a
heavy duty antiboditic and an even heavier
antidecongestant. Then he truly let go and slept like the
dead.
Now, trapped in a cell which seemed to grow smaller and
smaller every hour, Mulder was reaching for the thread that
Scully told him to let go. The oil rig, the oil rig... Al
said Starkweather was working on a connection between the
rig and the crash in Scotland. They were intertwined and
the reason for this whole nightmare.... Mulder's teeth
clenched together. He longed for a sunflower seed.
Stretching, he rotated his head left to right, hoping to
pop his stiff neck. As he did this, he happen to look at
Manny, still sleeping, still snoring.
And the answer hit him like a Mack Truck.
"Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud.
He had the answer. He just hoped there was physical
proof... he hoped it could be found before good ol' Billy
Boy paid him a visit.
"Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud. "What if the plane was
SUPPOSED to crash???"
Manny snorted in his sleep and rolled over, continuing to
snore.
Mulder began to pace. It made sense, it made perfect
sense... according to what little Scully told him about the
case in Scotland before she left with Doggett and
Starkweather... several other military planes had taken off
for routine missions and crash-landed way off course days
later. According to Starkweather, several airbases had
fueling contracts with the oil company. If Mulder was
right... if the oil company was just a cleverly simple
fascade for their real mission, to secretly import Purity
into other countries...
Mulder continued to pace. But wasn't the Black Oil
transmitted by bees? He knew it was, Scully had nearly died
from a bee from that weird farm in Texas. But the Black Oil
was also transmitted just by touching it. Plus... God only
knew how many other places there could be in the world that
was genetically engineering killer-bees...
Mulder went to the bars and grabbed the bars in
desperation, wishing he had the strength of Billy Miles. If
Ben would have been successful with bringing the case to
trial, everything would have come out. Including the race
of indigents that were immune to the Black Oil... which,
Mulder realized frantically, is what the Syndicate was
hiding... or rather the New Syndicate. Even though he knew
that most of the "Old Guard" had been killed, he had the
sneaking suspicion that someone was waiting in the wings
for just such an event so he... or she could grab the
reins.
And if the New Syndicate was anything like the Old
Syndicate... pretending to help the alien nation while
trying to undermine their efforts... they would NOT want it
to become public knowledge that some humans were immune...
humans like the two brave souls who perished on the oil rig
trying to stop their evil work... humans like himself and
Scully... possibly Starkweather... but definitely...
"William..." he breathed. "Oh no..."
If Starkweather didn't wake up, if he didn't get out of
this cell... the hell with the rest of the world, who was
going to protect Scully and Will?
"D-d-doggett..." Starkweather stammered "I think I should
lay off the J.D.'s."
"Starkweather?" Sam asked with an expression of forged
confusion plastered on his face. After fifteen years of
leaping, he had acquired acting skills. In a flash, he
pulled the gun out of the shoulderholster and had it poised
toward the gun.
"Please..." she stammered, "tell me you see a man in a God-
awful suit in this room? Because if you don't, Clarence is
back...and you should check the yellow pages for nutfarms."
"Awful?! What the hell do you mean awful?!" Al objected.
"This material is top-quality 100 % silk! He can't see me.
You're the only one who can see me honey." Al fibbed.
"I think I'm going fucking insane..." She closed her eyes.
"He's not real, in a minute, I'll wake up and this will all
go away...he's just a figment of my imagination..."
Mumbling, she walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured
every drop of liquor that existed.
"Who's there?" Sam immediately recoiled, poising his gun
for show.
Sam and Al, meanwhile, took the opportunity while her back
was turned to them to relay a message
*Mulder* Al exageratedly mouthed and pointed at his watch
then pointed at Doggett's gun and then emphatically pointed
at his head
"Callivici," she swung around, and immediately Al and Sam
both stiffened up, "Why'd you come back?"
"Ummmmm...St. Peter wanted me to tell you that unless you
stop cryin' me a river, Mulder's going to be killed in
prison within..." he held up Ziggy and punched in data,
"twenty four hours."
"Glad to see Heaven's gotten an upgrade." Starkweather
purred.
"Why do you think we couldn't affoard the cleaning bill?"
Al retorted.
"Oh, I see. You cant affoard a cleaning bill but you can
affoard technology that doesn't exist yet. It's a God damn
miracle."
"That's what Angel's do, isn't it?"
"I can't believe I'm arguing with a figment of my
imagination. God...I must be insane."
"I'm not God, I'm--" Al protested.
"Shut up!" Starkweather barked.
It was hard for Sam not to hide his urgency. Aside from
finding this situation slightly amusing, he desperately
needed whatever information Al had to give him. So, he
continued to play along. "Starkweather? Who are you talking
to?"
"Calivici...my gaurdian angel...with a pretty blinking
calculator..." she said quizzically.
Just then, Starkweather's cell phone rang. Scully's voice
was urgent on the other end.
"Starkweather, turn on the local news. There's something
you should see.
Sam gave her a questionning glance that was unanswered.
Starkweather turned her television on from cable to local
television.
"A Gap commercial?"
"No no no...it just went off the air...Mulder's lawyer is
connected to an unexplained explosion.
Al and Sam were both starring wide eyed at the next
newsclip from the Spangle, Adams and Carter lawfirm.
"Jiminy Christmas!" Starkweather murmuring at the sight of
the man on the screen. "Look at that..." eyeing the
cigarette holder..."looks a helluva lot like the cigarette
holder I gave...he knows...holy F*ck! I think that man
killed Ben...if he didn't kill Ben," she finished quietly,
"...then he at least knows who did..."
Starkweather faced the television set, nibbling her
thumbnail, oblivious to Sam or Al. "Unless, he's in on it
with Mulder, he is his lawyer, but... no if he was in with
Mulder, he would have gotten him off on bail, if Leo was in
on it with Mulder, there is no logical reason why Mulder
would still be sitting in that jail cell..." she bit her
lip. "Unless he's being set up..." she muttered to herself
as the commericals droned on and on, a McDonald's spot,
then a local spot for a furniture company, then the news
was back on. The way-too-happy anchor woman re-informed
Washington DC and the surrounding areas of the unexplained
house explosion in a nearby suburb of DC. As the already
over-played footage re-aired, the woman's voiceover
announced how the fire marshall suspected foul play, but
has not yet been determined. The picture flashed back to
the family, a woman, cut, scraped and mildly burned
hovering over her fear-striken son while a man, Justin Leo,
tried to comfort them both.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered to herself, still
thinking.
"Starkweather?" Sam asked.
"Hang on a sec," she said, dashing off into the bedroom.
Sam was about to follow, but Al already vanished, centering
on her. Sam heard a loud "CAN'T A GIRL GET SOME FUCKING
PRIVACY YOU PERVERTED LITTLE HALUCINATION??" Al
returned to Sam quickly, very red-faced, a rarity.
"She's changing," he mumbled, punching at his little com-
link to cover his massive embarrassment.
"What's going on?" Sam hissed insistantly. "Does anything
change?"
Al began punching at his com-link for real now. "Mulder
still croaks tomorrow night at straight up five o'clock
Eastern time-"
Just then, Caesar the Fat Orange Cat rounded the corner.
His tail puffed up three times it's normal size, hissed at
Sam, glared at Al. He lowered himself to ground, just like
his bigger and wilder relations in Africa, waggling his
rump, tensing his legs, preparing for the attack. Suddenly
he lunged himself off the floor, hurtling himself towards
Al, claws extended. Al, by now, used to animals freaking
out on him, put his hands behind his back and waited
patiently. The cat sailed right through him. Confused,
Caesar flailed his paws wildly as he tried to control his
landing. He belly-flopped onto the polished oak coffee
table, sliding across it, knocking magazines and coffee
cups off and falling into an undignified orange heap on the
floor. Tucking his tail between his legs, Caesar slunk off
to nurse his wounded pride in peace. "HA!!!" he barked at
the retreating cat. "That makes up for every damn cat Ex-
Wife Number... Four... Five... whatever... brought home to
destory my house."
"Al!" Sam snapped, although he had been privately amused by
the entire scenario.
"Oh oh oh right..." Al got back to work. "Oh... no...
Sammmmmm.... Starkweather gets killed **tonight** now."
"WHAT?!?!?!" Sam felt his heart and head spin. "How???
Why?"
Just then, Starkweather came back, in baggy khakis cargo
pants cinched tighly at her waist with a thick black belt,
a chest-hugging tight black t-shirt while wearing one of
Ben's dark grey dress shirts over it, shiny black boots Sam
correctly guessed where from her days in the Air Force. Her
hair was pulled tightly back in a harsh French braid. Over
her head, she had tied on a black hankerchief, pulling her
bangs back so anyone could clearly see the ugly scar she
earned when her flight to London was crash landing in Rome.
The tail of her braid swished back and forth as she walked
out. She wore dark black sunglasses. Her mouth was pulled
down what seemed to be a permanent frown. She looked evil.
But what scared Sam more was the gun she was loading.
"Starkweather, what are you doing?"
She smiled coldly at Sam, the smile worse than the frown.
"I'm gonna go have a chat with Mr. Leo," she said wickedly.
"Don't know if you wanna come with Doggett. The game just
got dirty and your suit is still sparkly clean."
Sam looked down at Doggett's neatly pressed black suit,
starched white shirt and grey and red and violet striped
tie. With a sigh, Sam took his gun out, checked it, took it
off of safety and put it back in his holster. "My suit's
washable," Sam said.
Starkweather stuck the gun in the back of her waistband,
pulled Ben's shirt over it and grabbed her car keys.
"Oh boy," Sam said, following...
After Scully left the Admiral, she could not shake the
feeling that he was not going to be honest with her. He was
an old family friend, and she believed he truly wanted to
do right, but that other forces were compelling him to do
wrong.
It was her job now to flush the compelling forces out and
uncover the truth. The truth now, she hoped, would set
Mulder free...literally this time.
She needed to go to the county jail and tell Mulder
everything she found. He would want to know he had a sister
again, even if it was someone who had a powerful left hook
that liked to meet his face. She had come to rely on Reyes
in these times when she needed someone to stay with Will
while she persued these questions, and was really not quite
sure how she would repay the favor.
The house phone rang just then, interrupting her train of
thought which was in the middle of trying to determine the
best next step in this investigation.
"Dr. Scully, my name is J. Stephen Cello III." a young man
began, "You don't know me, but one of my late colleauges
worked with one of your colleagues."
"What's this all about?" Scully was slightly irritated with
a man automatically introduced himself as someone whose
name sounded like the closing of Seseme Street this seseme
street was brought to you by the letter J and the number
3.
"Mr. Starkweather was my colleague." He answered sadly. "I
was going over the police reports here in front of me on
behalf of our lawfirm and your name came up. I think some
things need to be brought to your attention."
Scully got off the phone completely outraged. Mulder was
being set up by the young lawyer, and she was sure it had
something to do with the oil-rig. Now all she had to do was
find the connection. She picked up the phone again.
"Byers. It's Scully. Listen, I need you guys to do me a
favor as fast as you can. Can you get me the phone records
for Justin Leo and fax them for me? Thanks, I appreciate
it."
She was slightly puzzled when the records pulled up on her
fax machine immediately.
Al, taking a puff of his cigar, stood in the shadows. When
he realized she didn't see the smoke, he stepped into the
light.
"Mulder..." she mumbled to herself, a thin smile gracing
her lips, "you are one paranoid piece of work..."
"Ain't he though?" Al said, grinning over her shoulder.
Her brow crinkled in confusion when she saw one number from
Sasha Krycek at PO Box 37 Cherry Lane Apts.
She was interrupted on her way out again by yet another
phone call. This time it was her cell, so she wasn't
completely stopped.
"Scully," Skinner began, "what have you found so far? I
tried to get a hold of Starkweather, but she's busy at the
moment."
"Sir, I wish I could fill you in, but so am I. I'll get
back to you in a few hours."
Feeling in the way and out of the loop, Skinner sighed and
dialed the number for the mayor.
Scully wound down the streets towards the county jail
apprehensively, and it had nothing to do with the place she
was going. This whole ordeal was completely illogical. Who
gets arrested on pure circumstantial evidence? Why did the
judge set the bail so high? Where did the body come from?
The only question unanswered surrounding the whole mess was
that Ben was opening doors someone intended to keep locked.
Tonight, before The Gunmen, Starkweather, and Doggett came
for Mulder, she knew that she needed to find at least seven
out of ten. If they weren't all going to serve time in
prison, she needed solid proof.
From what she could tell from Ben's colleague, Mulder's
current lawyer was someone definately working with someone
who had connections...but as far as she knew, the most
connected man in Washington was dead.
But, she reminded herself with a heavy sigh, "The phrase
'as far as I know' has a way of not going very far in this
job."
She knew without a doubt that if the break didn't succeed,
Mulder would be moved to a state penetentiary. That wasn't
the worst of the consequences, though. Her mother would
undoubtedly be given full legal custody of William, while
she, Starkweather, Doggett and the 3 Muskateers would be at
the mercy of the court system. The truth that's out there
would be abandoned, ignored, closed completely.
But that wasn't going to happen.
She was going to find the proof they needed. Mulder was
going to help her after rush hour tomorrow, and then
everything would be back to normal. Why do I feel like
I'm in the middle of a Television series that's jumping
the shark?! she wondered.
Scully pulled into the parkinglot and got out the paper she
reached for after the Gunmen called. She scrawled the
message that Starkweather was coming for him at rush hour,
and beneath that some questions she knew Starkweather would
need answers to if the stunt was to be successful. She
folded up as small as possible and tucked it in her skirt.
Because of the late hour, she was escorted into the
visitation room by a gaurd, and while the gaurd went to get
Mulder, she took the opportunity to get the paper out. She
fervently wished that she could have brought Will with her.
She knew Mulder would want to see him, and that maybe he
would give the motivation she knew Mulder would need to
pull this off. But it was past her bedtime. She knew that
Parenting Magazine would not approve of bringing an infant
to a jail at such a late hour.
Scully never doubted Mulder's innocence. Even still, after
all the horrors he'd been subjected to, she knew those
monsters hadn't robbed him of his compassion. The only
doubt that existed in her mind was whether or not they
could prove it. She wasn't ready for this to be their
goodbye. She sighed tentatively as she waited, and resolved
that she wouldn't let that happen.
Mulder was finally escorted into the visitation room.
"You look tired, Scully." He said quietly, and took her
hand through the glass. Scully thought he looked like he
had probably stayed awake the entire time he was in
custody.
"It's been a hellish day. I went to Martha's Vineyard."
"Finally decided to take a vacation there like a normal
person?" He answered dryly. "Wow, Scully. I'm impressed. If
that's what it takes to get you to have a vacation, I
shouldda gotten arrested long ago."
"Yeah, Mulder." She answered. "I went there to have my
yearly rendez-vous with the pizza guy." Scully deadpanned.
"That explains why you look so beat." He answered in his
annoying monnotone with a sly smile. Not skipping a beat,
he took her hand through the gap in the plexiglass at the
bottom, and in the same tone of voice, he asked "How's
Will?"
"A lot like you at this moment." Scully said with a wan
grin of her own. Then slid the paper into the palm of his
hand. And with one glance into his eyes, she made it
understood that this wasn't something to clue the gaurds in
on.
"I haven't passed notes to a girl I liked since grammar
school." He mumbled only loud enough for her to hear. He
cracked a slight smile as he read the contents of the note.
"My apartment until two weeks, Scully...that's where I'm
staying." he said, hoping she'd get the hint.
For a moment, she looked confused, and then her face lit up
in understanding as she realized what he was saying. 42
until...minus...two weeks...fourteen days...42 minus
14...28.
"Scully, the way I see it, we've got proof already. I know
what Doggett and I saw on that oil rig, and I think the
connection lies in my cell mate."
"Manny?" Scully asked incredulously.
Mulder nodded slowly in response. "They were using people
who wouldn't know any better...and if they did know better,
they'd need the job too badly to quit, and be willing to
take the risk. The people on the oil rig were transporting
alien oil...same as we saw inTungeska...the same oil that
was being used in those planes in that airport in Scotland.
Certain higherups were getting they're palms greased..."
"No pun intended?" Scully interrupted.
"Right..." he continued, "...anyway...the connection is
that oil, and those workers...if we can get proof that
Kersh and whoever else is connected get those stocks the
boys and me found, then I'm home free."
"There's something else I found out today. I found proof
that the Admiral has been dealing with the Syndicate. They
are the ones who adopted Jerilyn through a blackmarket
adoption agency. Leo has been parading as a lawyer for the
past two weeks. He was fired from his firm, and is
connected to a bombing of a home in a residential
neighborhood. Your old lawyer has been calling this one
number quite a bit for a Cherry Lane apartments, and
they've been increasing lately. When I leave here, I'm
finding out who lives at that address."
"Scully.." Mulder began hesitantly, "if this doesn't work
out, and I..."
"Mulder..it'll work..." she said firmly.
***************************
Mulder was lead back to his jail cell, and with Manny
oblivious to the world around him. He wasn't prepared for
the possible scenerios that might unfold tomorrow. He
envied Manny of his oblivion, and wished insomnia hadn't
worked its spell.
"Kid, I'd get some shut-eye if I were you, tomorrow's gonna
be a helluva day." Al growled. He popped in, perched in the
middle of the top bunk. At the unexpected sound, Mulder
jumped out of his skin.
"Al...tomorrow..."
"I know kid, I heard."
"Why is Starkweather coming?"
"Because..." Al began, inhaling a puff of her cigar, "I
think she knows as good as Sam, me, Scully and Doggett that
you didn't do this."
"You get anything from Doggett?" Mulder asked, raking his
hand through his hair.
"Nada. He went psycho on us earlier...the project
psychologist said he kept screaming some cryptic shit about
seeing his son...and some number. Beeks finally hadda..."
"Walk-ins...Star-light..."
"Don't tell me cryptic shit disorder's catchy?"
"Walk-ins are souls trapped in some kinda limbo who try to
help the living. They helped me find Samantha...Luke died
suddenly and before his time. I think thirty-seven's gotta
be tied to this somehow."
"Well if he's trying to tell us something," Al grumbled, "I
wish he'd give us some useful information...like who's
gonna win the world series in 2012."
"Check on Scully, will ya?"
"Mulder, I wish I could...but I need to check in on Sam...I
gotta update him on Puppy Man..."
"Al...go check on her..." Mulder implored simply.
"Mulder, Scully's a strong woman, she can take care of
herself. Sam's at the mercy of Starkweather and the
Gungeeks..."
"They're harmless..." then, running his hand along his
stitches, he decided to change the assessment, "well...she
won't do anything with witnessess..."
"I'm only one guy, kid..." Al began to protest, "I can't be
in two places at once."
"In my line of work...believe me...you can." Mulder
deadpanned.
Letting out a relenting grumble, Al flashed him a dirty
look as he called out to Goushie. "Center me on Scully!"
**Meanwhile...**
Scully left the courthouse, and headed down the bypass on
her way to the address she found for Cherry Lane
apartments. Over and over again, she went through the
evidence they found. Scully never saw the lawyer who was
supposedly representing Mulder. She never knew what he
looked like. Was it safe to assume that the man in the car
getting the vile in the warehouse just the day before had
been Leo? She wished that there was enough time to call
Starkweather to find out what the Admiral told her.
But there wasn't enough time to do two things at once at
this point. She was approaching the neighborhood, and if
the caller was involved at all in these operations, then it
was an easy conclusion to arrive at that the caller would
be on the move, and if that were the case, she needed to
catch the caller out the door.
Undetected, Al appeared instantly on Scully's passenger
seat.
"Where we goin' Scully?" He asked as if she could hear.
She pulled into the apartment complex and counted down the
doors till she came to the right address. He saw two cars,
did a liscence plate check on both. There was one
registered to a Sasha Antzen and to an Ana Sedai.
As Scully made her way up the door Al followed, and as soon
he caught sight of the door number, it hit him...
Scully rang the doorbell to apartment 37C, shouting "Open
up! This is the FBI!"
**Where we last saw Scully, at Cherry Lane Apt.'s 37C**
After repeatedly pounding on the door, she whipped out her
gun and turned the safety off.
Al, bug-eyed and anxiously jingling change in his pocket,
gnawed nervously on his cigar. "Scully, I wouldn't go in
there without back-up if I were you, sweetheart." he warned
unheard, and a relieved smile spread across his face as he
saw her slip the gun in her breast pocket and whip out her
cell-phone lightening-quick. "'Atta girl! Going in there
without back up is more along Spooky's line."
She dialed Skinner's number, and as soon as she heard him
grumble a barely comprehendable hello into the phone,
without waiting for pleasantries, she began spatting
instructions. "Sir, it's Scully. You want to know what's
going on, I'll let you know as soon as you get to 37C
Cherry Lane Apartments in Georgetown. I'm about to make an
arrest, and I need back-up." She hung up, not waiting for a
reply, and whipped her FBI-issued revolver out of her
pocket reflex-quick. With the safety clicked off, she aimed
at the doorknob, and with a bang, the lock shot open.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" she screamed, aiming her gun
at shadows. "THIS IS THE FBI! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"
"Who the hell is she?!" Al sputtered, wishing to God that
he could be seen. What the fu--?" He stammered as he saw
something darting between the hall way and the counter.
"Oh, come on, Agent Scully!" Marita purred incredulously,
emerging from the hallway. "You don't have to be so Goddamn
melodramatic." If Scully was surprised to see her in the
dark, modestly furnished living room, she gave no
indication.
Scully and the strange woman and the apartment began to
flicker and fades like lights do when the electricity goes
out. "Goushie! NO!! Keep me up as long as you can't!
Dammit!! I dont' care whatchya gotta do, keep me here!" He
hollared helplessly.
"You are under arrest for conspiring to murder Benjamin
Starkweather and Deputy Mayor Mulder, and interfering with
police investigation."
"I think you've been watching too many cop movies...you're
acting like a fucking action hero" she sneared coolly. As he
heard the two women spitting their fire, Justin Leo decided to
take the opportunity to head for the door.
Scully's attention was averted just then by movement in the
shadows, but she kept her gun trained on her target.
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can
and will be used against you in the court of--who's there?
Hey!" Scully demanded as Leo made a run for it towards the
exit. He knew that if he stayed, Lilly would slip through
his fingers like an abstract. Marita saw her opportunity
and took it.
"The cavalry isn't helping you now, sweetie." She sneered
with a swift kick, knocking Scully's gun from her grip.
"You bet your sweet ass they are Lucrezia Borgia." Al
combatted as if Marita could hear. If it was at all
possible, his eyes got even wider like a cartoon character,
as Marita poised Scully's own fire arm at her.
Scully swung at her, and dove for the gun, but Marita was
quicker. Leo had moved from his shadow, and was now
starring shit-faced and wide-eyed at Al.
"He can see me! Holy Shit! He can see me!" Sputtered Al as
he stared just as bewildered and white-faced, and consulted
his hand-link. "Goushie, what the F*CK is going on here?!"
He hollared helplessly into the air.
"It's a gun, Leo, not a ghost." Marita said in his
direction while her intent stare never diverted from
Scully. "Now get out of here and do your job while I do
mine." She snarled. Leo did her biding, and quickly bolted
for the door.
"You, honey," Al began "are a good argument for the people
against the right to bare arms. Guns don't kill people.
Psychochicks with a gun kill people." Al smirked. "Goushie!
He hollared desperately, "try it again, center me on Sam!
Pronto!"
The womens' voices were crackling like radios and cell
phones do when the frequencies are off, and with one last
flicker, Al wasn't connected with the room anymore.
"That's what I get for getting a nutcase to work for me,
isn't it." Marita said with a smirk. "But he *is*
effecient, so I think I'll keep him around."
Scully saw the blue lights flickering in the window from
the street below, and in an almost automatic action, she
lunged at Marita, gripping for her arms first, in attempt
to point upward.
But without even aiming the gun steady, Marita fired when
she saw the blue and red lights get more intense. Skinner
heard the blast from inside, and rushed his crew inside
apartment 37C.
Scully didn't think she heard any kind of gunshot. She felt
rust-warm and sticky substance on her FBI-approved navy
blazer. The only thing she remembered was jerking back. She
was dimly aware of footsteps coming up to the front door.
She was aware that she was falling.
And then she was aware of nothing more.
*****************************************************
...Meanwhile...Coffee is my Friend 24 hr CoffeeShop
***************************************************
Justin Leo watched his step-sister leave. He understood her
fears, and admonished himself for not sending them away
before she threatened the restraining order. He really
couldn't blame her. But, what could he do? He was too far
in to get out now.
The coffeeshop was near a college, and the owner had the
foresight to install a few modem hook-ups. He booted up,
logged on, and went into the UFO chatrooms, clinging to the
faint hope of helping him find answers, and surfed UFO
newsletters for possible clues. The hope that Marita
Covarubias and her colleagues would help him find Lilly
was slowly dimming.
He whipped out his cellphone at it's abnoxious whirring
beckon.
"Leo." Marita hissed coldly, "you have a chance to redeem
yourself after your last blunder." then calmly, "One last
chance to get her back."
Deciding it best to remain silent, he said nothing, waiting
for her to continue, and nodded as if he could see him.
"We have an emergency on our hands. I need you to drop all
contact with the Deputy Mayor. I need you to get the serum
and send the replicant to his cell tomorrow afternoon. Your
the only one with the information to send the replicant to
the correct location. We'll be so much closer to getting
Lily back...and others..." her voice trailed off.
Without a word, he hung up and logged off, leaving the
coffee shop.
After making sure Ana and Peter were safe, Leo finally went
to the safehouse like he had been ordered to earlier that
day. Marita was waiting for him. "You little bitch," Leo
started to say, but Marita pointed a gun at him.
"You have but one chance to redeem yourself Leo." She
purred, coming closer to him, step by step until the gun
barrel was shoved painfully into his chest. "Agent
Starkweather is a problem we need solved. Now. Tonight."
She turned the gun around and handed it to him. "And don't
even think of turning it on me. It's not loaded. You'll
need to get your own bullets." She handed him the manilla
envelope "Here's a better picture of her. The address is
on the back. I want this done right. Make it look like a
robbery gone wrong." She turned her back on him and left
him alone.
Leo, fuming, ripped open the envelope. He pulled out an
8x10 color glossy print of a photo of Starkweather from a
survelliance shot. She was getting out of a white Dodge
Dynasty that had obviously seen better days, one hand still
on the wheel as she looked off to the right at something.
Her hair was bundled on top of her head in a heavy-looking
bun. She wore a nice black suit and a blue silk blouse,
with a blue and silver scarf knotted at her neck.
Leo dropped the photograph, exhaling. The hair color and
the eye color was wrong, of course but the face...
"**Lily**" he gasped.
7:42 pm
Cherry Lane Apts.
*****************
Marita knew that Justin Leo was not fooling himself. He
worked for her and the rest of the consortium for one
reason, and one reason only: to find someone he lost. He
always held the false illusion that the tasks he performed
were find Lilly--that he was on a quest.
Marita banked upon that mistake and allowed him to keep the
illusion.
After all, as long as he prooved useful to her, what was
the harm in allowing him to think that that poor dumb girl
was still alive? He pined after Lilly, and allowed himself
to believe that he was performing his tasks to find her.
His quest was under false pretenses though; only brave men
go on quests.
She was beginning to discover however, that a Luke
Skywalker costume was hard to fit on Chewbacca.
She knew that Davis Justin Leo possessed absolutely no
balls...and for that quality, she kept him at her heels.
Cowards are easily intimidated and very gullible. She knew
this, and used it to the Ultimate Advantage.
There were still too many things standing in the way of the
Ultimate Advantage. She knew that those things would have
to be illiminated. The first steps were taken already, but
until the Smoking F*cker was out of the picture, she knew
that these steps wouldn't be taken.
Under her careful supervision, the syndicate was finally
gaining a stronger hold, and more paranormal cases were
brought to the FBI's attention. Careful strategizing went
into placing the Starkweathers in the Nation's capital, and
careful strategizing went into expelling Mulder from the
FBI. With the truth revealed about his sister, Marita and
CSM were both delightedly surprised he chose to stay in the
FBI; but admittedly, it was the dumb luck of Vietnam that
landed Mulder at City Hall.
His abduction was not, however, part of the plan; nor was
his death. The syndicated HAD been participating in
abduction conspiracies for years. Lilly and Samantha were
both planned to be taken at different times as part of a
contract made under Spender. The best she and Krycek could
determine when the news reached them was that Mulder's
disappearance had been the work of the alien rebels.
The Ultimate Advantage now was to find out exactly what the
alien rebels were fighting against, and how to negotiate
with both. Marita knew that by controlling Billy Miles she
was getting close to the Ultimate Advantage.
Giving Dana Scully and Fox Mulder the Truth behind Jerilyn
Bailey Starkweather was done because she also knew that if
Agents Scully and Mulder and the rest of the members of the
x-files and their cohorts had a distraction, then it would
take them off their gaurds and allow Mr. Leo to perform his
tasks and her Syndicate time to take control of the
situation.
Ben Starkweather and Justin Leo had one very crucial
commonality: they both lacked any ounce of courage, but
they needed to believe that they strove to do the Right
Thing...and that false belief drove their very Existances.
She knew that this tendency would be the convincing factor
in proving them useful to the Ultimate Advantage.
There was a swift knock at her door. The old man drew a
long puff of his cigarette when Marita opened it.
"You are a fool if you think the Truth is a good
distraction for Agent Scully." He told her. "Against your
advice, Ms. Covarubias, I have set Mr. Miles in motion."
"Then we risk finding what we need to know. They can help
us." She insisted
"It is too late. It has been done."
"Then you are the fool," she hissed. "Because any
stronghold we had is going to be lost now. The lie will be
gone!"
"You should watch yourself, Marita." The old man purred.
"The lie is about to explode. But I wouldn't disappear. You
and your handyman will be usefull in the near future. We
might be lucky. They might crack. We might survive."
"You can only threaten me with *might*...not with *MIGHTS*
you BASTARD!" She exploded, and an with an emphatic BANG
slammed the door in his face, not carring that it was the
most immature reaction she could have to his maddening
words. More importantly, it proved to him that she was
loosing her control...but she had to admit, it was
theraputic.
She ran to the closet where her suitcase gathered dust, and
against his advice, began to pack it.
With Scully's urgent call moments before, Skinner called
reinforcements as quickly as he could, confident in his
agent's ability to keep the situation under control. He had
no doubt in his mind that her ability to do that alone had
saved both the x-files and Mulder's life too many times to
count. If Scully was calling for back-up, he was sure this
whole matter was going to be resolved, and for that he was
relieved. It wouldn't be long now before the x-files could
get as back to normal as the x-files got.
He turned into the neighborhood the apartment complex was
in, and the shrill ring of the cell phone broke his
concentration on the route to the apartment. He wouldn't
have taken the call at a time like this normally, but his
CLD told him that it was from Starkweather's father.
"Look, I don't have a whole lot of time on my hands, so
unless this is urgent, I don't want to hear it." He would
have barked if it hadn't been someone so important.
"A.D. Skin-man" the Admiral slurred, chuckling at himself.
Skinner was not amused. "Skin-man! Damn if um gooohaaana
miss that Mulder guy. I'm tooaaaaaaaaaaaatally PLAHASTERED!
I'm having trouble---hehehehe---getting my Lipttttths to
wohk wissttth mah mouth." He bursted out into fits of
laughter that transformed into sobs.
"Look, Admiral, I dont' have time for this, I'm in a very
tight situation here, so if you don't mind, please walk it-
-"
"Shhhhstshkin-mannnner, I sthing sthish Mahahahrita chickah
issth um gonna send Billy the Kid...Heheheheheeheee! Billy
the KID!! On the DM!" Then he burst into laughter which
evolved again into tears.
"Oh hell." Skinner finally said after a short pause while
the inebriated man's sobs dwindled. "Can you tell me how
you know this?"
"Sttthhhe said she wouulhuhuhuhuhud" He sobbed.
"Admiral? Admi— from the silence on the other end, Skinner
was sure that the man had drowned into oblivion, and was
grateful.
He pulled up to the apartment behind the half-dozen squad
cars, wondering how much of this information Scully already
knew, and wondering who lived in this apartment. Instinct
told him it was someone from the syndicate, or someone who
affiliated themselves with a new ring. Either way, the
suspect was someone who didn't miss their target.
Skinner climbed out of his car as one of the feds
approached him warily. "Sir, we've searched the premises
for the suspect and there was none. A shot was fired, and
we went ahead. Your agent didn't have her service weapon in
her possession when we found her."
"Did you question the landlord?" He was not ready to deal
with the darkest possibilities yet. For now, he needed to
get his job done.
"A woman by the name of Sasha Krycek lived here with her
grandfather according to the landlord." Was the man's quick
reply.
Meanwhile, inside the apartment, once Scully was no longer
a force to be reckoned with, Marita knew that this was the
opportunity to flee. Abandoning her suitcase but arming
herself with the service weapon, she made her way down the
fire escape with the grace and speed of a gazelle.
Scully was first aware of the coppery smell of her own
drying blood. Then a massive headache coupled with the dull
ache in her left side screamed at her nervous system back
into full alertness.
Seconds later brought footsteps up the stairs and a band of
uniformed officers. Realizing with a sigh of relief that
the bullet had only glazed her abdomen. Clutching it when
she saw the officers approach her, she applied pressure on
the table, and managed to struggle to a sitting position.
Skinner soon followed with a concerned and relieved
expression taking over his normally stone-stern features,
he made sure that the EMS had, in fact, been called.
"Scully, I wish you had told me sooner what was going on, I
would have sent back-up long ago and this would have never
happened," he scolded more like a parent than a boss.
"Sir, Marita was here. I tried to arrest her, but she got
the gun away from me and fired my gun and escaped."
Skinner's expression turned from relieved to sh*t-faced.
"God…Scully…I wasn't going to let you bury Mulder again…but
if what the Admiral said was true…"
"What did the Admiral say?" Scully demanded as the EMT tech
took her pulse.
Skinner couldn't bring himself to admit to her his
conclusion.
Meanwhile, back in the future
*****************************
Back in the waiting room, while Al was with Sam and
Starkweather in his time, Doggett was going stir crazy in a
time and body that was not his own.
He hated being ordered. He hated not being able to do
anything about the situation back in his own time. He hated
seeing a stranger's face in reflections, and hearing
another man's voice come from his mouth.
He was angry and trapped, and of course those feelings
manifested themselves as a jack-ass, making him lash out at
anyone in arm's reach. He surprised himself when he didn't
punch the Italian Seaman back.
He hated not being there for either Scully or Starkweather.
When he was assigned to Scully's department, he made a
promise to her to watch her back and to find Mulder. He was
about to break both of those promises.
He'd already broke one of them once.
He knew he earned his trust after two years of partnership,
but unless something was about to change drastically, it
looked as though all that trust was about to be shot out of
the water. Not that her trust mattered if she was going to
be killed, he thought, exhaling in rage.
Jerilyn Starkweather was a different matter altogether.
Doggett felt a need to protect Scully, but something seered
much deeper for Doc. Somehow, he felt a bond that hadn't
even been there with the former Mrs. Doggett.
He knew both of them must be going through a Hell worse
than he was at the moment, but all the same he just
couldn't stand around and wait for disaster to strike. He
had abandoned both of them, and wanted to get back.
But to return, he had to believe that this was possible.
That this was real. That this wasn't a nightmare, a cruel
joke, a neat party trick, a hallucination, or something in
between.
Part of him wished fervently that this was possible. If
time-travel was possible, then there existed a slight
chance that someone could go back in time and stop the
death of Luke, who would have been 13 three days ago...or
was it fifteen years and three days ago? That was becoming
more and more arbitrary to Doggett. The only time reference
that mattered to him now was how much time remained until
disaster struck.
The catch of the century was that if time travel *was*
possible, then that meant that Luke could have been saved.
There was something he could have done to prevent his son's
horrible murder. That wasn't something he was prepared to
believe. That wasn't something he was prepared to
understand. That wasn't a road he wanted to go down.
Doggett let out a ragged sigh; one more time he half-
heartedly studied the police photos Admiral Calivici had
left with him. Clinging to the possibility that maybe
*this* time something would reveal itself that hadn't come
to light before.
Doggett wasn't aware of falling asleep. The almost-
arbitrary time had gone undetected, but in his next
conscious moment, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes,
blinking in disblief.
"Calivici!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, not taking
his eyes off of the sight before him. "What the F*CK is
going on here. What the HELL IS THIS!? DAMMIT I..."
"Agent Doggett..." Verbeena came in, eyes widening in
puzzlement.
"Where's Calavici."
"In the imaging chamber."
"Did he have anything to do with this?" He managed to
stammer, pointing a finger at what Verbeena Beeks couldn't
see.
"What--*this*--exactly are you referring to. Agent
Doggett... John...I assure you we are not a part of what
you are upset about." Dr. Beeks had never experienced a
reaction like this from Leapers before.
The image of an illuminated toweheaded little boy with
piercing blue eyes appeared to be unalarmed by his
outbursts. Doggett thought he heard the boy saying "Daddy."
He was mouthing *thirty-seven* over and over again.
Then the boy was gone.
"Thirty seven...thirty seven...God dammit! Thirty-seven
WHAT?!?! THIRTY SEVEN *WHAT* LUKE?!!!!"
Verbeena ordered the nurses to prepare a sedative.
Tacoma Park Falls
LGM Lair
*************
Langly got off the phone with Starkweather and finished
his game of Starcraft.
Of course he was going to help her. She knew where he
lived. She got Byers to confess his virginity. She had a
gun and knew how to use it. "You gotta love a girl who
knows how to put a guy in a death grip." He said with a
sigh.
But there was one thing he had to do before he began. He
logged on and pulled up his playlist. As much as he loved
Megadeth and The Rolling Stones and Hendrix, it was time
for some new stuff.
"Frohike!" He hollared "What the hell is Elvis doing on my
playlist!"
"Blame it on Mulder." Frohike grumbled back. He was busily
pecking away. Langley leaned over his shoulder. "Since when
are you a fourteen year-old girl, DanasRomeo?"
"Since I logged on." Frohike replied.
"That is just plain SICK, man." Langley said, turning back
to his computer and pulling up his favorite MP3 site.
"Not as sick as having a crush on Mulder's SISTER." Frohike
retorted.
"I do NOT have a crush on Starkweather!" Langley pouted.
"Deny, deny, deny...but it's as plain as the ridiculous
glasses on your face." Frohike refuted, not even glancing
up from his screen.
"That does not even dignify a response!" Langley answered
and went onto the Kazaa website, typed a search for
Metallica, not because he actually liked their music, and
spitefully right-clicked every song on the list.
"Get jiggy with THAT Lars Ulrich" he muttered and waited
for each song that snuck its way into that search.
The song began to play, and Langley and Frohike both
exchanged confused glances. "Since when did Lars Ulrich
play the trumpet?" Langley wondered.
I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
and eyes that burn like cigarettes
I want a girl with bright allocations
who's fast and thorough and sharp as a tack
she's playing with her jewelry she's putting up her hair
she's touring the facilities and picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a loooooooong jacket
I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
and a voice that is dark like tinted glass
she is fast thorough and sharp as a tack
she is touring the facility and picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a looooonnng long jacket
I want a girl with the smooth liquidations
I want a girl with good...dividends
At city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen
She wants a car with a cup holder armrest
She wants a car that will get her there
she's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a White Chrysler LaBarren
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a looooooooooooong jacket
"She's got great dividends." Frohike said dryly.
"You think Lars Ulrich knew Starkweather?"
"I don't know what the fuck that was...but sure as shit
wasn't Metallica."
"Sometimes people don't do their homework when they upload
these files." Byers said, coming in the lair. "According to
those idiots, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" from the Armageddon
soundtrack was recorded by Bjork and Jewel.
"What ever happened to the days when bands had normal
names...like They Might Be Giants..."
"...and The Who, and The Kinks?" Frohike finished.
En route to Justin Leo's
Starkweather kept her eyes on the road, darting around
cars, zipping around semis. "Get out of my way," she
muttered to a large 1977 puke-orange Chrysler Landau that
just boxed her in. "I'm gonna miss my exit," she snarled,
fuming. "God dammit all."
"Starkweather," Sam said patiently as Al sat quietly in the
backseat, sweating. "Slow down."
"I'm only doing 65."
"No, I mean slow down your thinking. You're going off like
a bat out of hell on a hunch. That's a little too..." Sam
grimaced. "Mulder-like for my taste."
"That's not even funny, even by your redneck standards."
"Why Leo? If I'm going to get dirty with you, I need to
know why."
Starkweather sighed. "I wish I would have thought of it
sooner, it would have saved everyone a bunch a grief,
Mulder and Scully especially. But y'know when you're
suddenly widowed, things have a tendency to slip your mind.
I could just kick myself Doggett. You were right, Mulder IS
getting set up, possibly to go to prison, but more likely
to be killed and it's because I had my head up my butt."
"What are you remembering?"
Starkweather sighed with relief as she passed the Chrysler
and floored it, going 80 mph now. "Before all this shit
went down, you know how I stopped by your house a few days
ago to drop off a copy of the Scotland file you wanted to
look over? And I told you how Ben and I were going to go to
Hooters to celebrate him getting his new job and his first
solo case?"
"Hooters?"
"Yeah, I know... real classy... anyway, the beer started
flowing and people stop talking and start gossiping....."
**********************
A few days back
Hooters Bar and Resturant
Ben found his new friends quickly, they had rock-star
seating in front of the big screen TV. Ben introduced
Jerilyn to everyone as his "big, bad FBI broad," which
broke the ice immediately. Jerilyn was relieved to see a
lot of the lawyers had brought girlfriends and wives. Soon,
the beer was flowing and Jerilyn found herself laughing
along with everyone else, feeling for the first time in a
long long time, like a normal woman.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar dark-
haired, hazel puppy-dogged eyed man, so slowly, she
swiveled her head around and sure enough, there was the
Deputy Mayor, watching the game with some of his City Hall
cronies. He grinned at her and Starkweather forced herself
to smile back and, as politely as possible, turn her
attention back to the game. I don't know what's worse she
grumbled to herself as she sipped her beer. Almost being
killed or having to be nice to that son-of-a-b*tch for the
rest of my life.
Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that the 'son-of-a-
bitch' was growing on her. She couldn't explain it, didn't
even try to explain it Ben, to Doggett, to anyone, but she
felt like she knew him from somewhere before. Perhaps in a
different lifetime, but, even though she still personally
didn't care for him but was slowly learning to accept his
assistance and advice... whenever she was in his presence,
she felt a strong aura of... Family?
She couldn't figure out why that word kept popping into her
head. She took Ben's hand and tried to enjoy the rest of
the night.
Several beers later, Jerilyn finally managed to forget
about the existence of Mulder and got drawn into petty
scandals that plague every business and occupation.
J. Stephen Cello III, recently promoted to the status of
"partner" at Carter, Spangle and Adam, ordered another
round plus another plate of raw oysters on the half shell,
turned to Margot Marie Rogeux-Brandybuck, the lone female
lawyer present, and said "Hey Meg, psycho-boy finally got
canned."
"I thought he was fired a long time ago?" Meg said after
she downed her beer in one big chug. Her name was prettier
and bigger than she was, but her personality made up for
lack of looks. She could also outdrink almost all of her
male co-workers, which was amazing since she was more
petite than Starkweather or Scully even. She was also as
lethal as arsenic in the legal arena. "Did you order me
another beer, Steve?" She lit a cigarette and offered one
to Ben, which he accepted.
Steve, meanwhile was so devastatingly handsome, he could
make women forget the existence of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt
and Russell Crowe. When Ben introduced him to her, Jerilyn
had a huge "Damn, I'm married" moment when she looked into
his dazzling green eyes and perfectly white smile. "You
doubt me?" He said mockingly. "No, I mean, it's official.
Jessy Spangle herself told me they officially terminated
him today."
Jerilyn had a pretty good buzz going, feeling like a wimp
next to Meg and Ben was feeling no pain. She devoutly hoped
he remembered that they had taken the motorcycle out and
she was in no shape to drive them home on it. She shrugged
it off. There was a Motel 6 within staggering distance. A
devillish little smile played on her lips. Now, THAT
might be kind of fun...
Ben broke into her impure thoughts. "Wait, guys, I'm lost.
Who's psycho boy? I don't think I've met him.....
You weren't missing anything," a voice drawled from further
up the table. Snickering was abound.
Ben, who loved gossip worse than a old woman, persisted.
"So what's the story with Pyscho-Boy?"
Meg took a long pull on her newest beer before she started.
"Young kid, fresh outta school. Jessy and Lisa (as in Lisa
MacKenna Carter, daughter of the decreased law firm
founder, Malachy Carter, second in line after senior
partner Jessy Spangle) were recruiting him hardcore.
Finished first in his class in his undergrad years at
Purdue in Indiana, fucking second out of everybody at his
class at Harvard Law. We get him here and he's doing
crackerjack good. Nailed his first two cases, got a sweet
out of court settlement on his third. Was making the firm
not just good money, but real money. Then after awhile, I
don't know. He got weird on us."
"Define weird," Ben asked.
Meg and Steve looked at each other, then looked at Jerilyn.
"Well... we don't want to offend anyone, especially you,
Jeri," Steve said, giving her a smile that made Mrs.
Starkweather want to melt at his feet. Motel 6, Motel 6
she told herself as she leaned her head, spinning just
slightly from all the beer, onto Ben's shoulder.
"It takes a lot to offend me, Steve," she said, snuggling
into Ben.
"Well, I gathered that... but Ben told us that you've had
the dubious honor of being assigned to the X-Files Division
at the Bureau and we've all heard stories about your
predecessor, Special Agent Mulder."
"That's Deputy Mayor Mulder, if you please," Meg said,
lighting another cigarette. "How the hell did he get THAT
job?"
My daddy Jerilyn thought with a groan as she said "I
heard the stories too and a lot of it is just that.
Stories. Really, the X-Files just checks into shitty crimes
that normal feds can't explain away. We're the IRS of the
paranormal. We audit these claims of strange happening to
see if there's for real or not and a lot of times they're
not... but the times they are... damn, watch your step, the
first one's a lu-lu."
There was chuckling abound, but then Meg asked. "So do you
believe in that stuff? UFOs and whatnot?"
Jerilyn thought carefully. She knew she was drunk, so she
made herself speak slowly. She did not want to spew out:
Actually, about a month ago, I was attacked by a
homicidal shapeshifter which my colleagues believe is from
another planet. "Oh, I don't know. With an universe as
big as ours, its illogical to even pretend that other life
cannot exist out there, but on the other side, the only
aliens I've seen for sure are on the movie screen." Jerilyn
shrugged. "I have an open-mind, but not so open that my
brains will fall out."
"Well, that's what happened to Leo. His head opened up and
his brains plopped out onto the floor," Steve said before
he sucked down an oyster. "Damn shame. A damn shame."
"Leo?" Ben asked. "Who's Leo?"
"Justin Leo. Psycho Boy." Steve devoured another oyster.
"About four months ago, he just came unglued. Guess he had
some girlfriend, a high school sweetheart that was abducted
and he had never been able to deal with the truth of what
happened."
"Which was?" Ben asked.
"According to police reports, the kids were on a date, she
wandered off into the woods and was never seen again. Leo
swore up and down that she was abducted. By aliens. And he
saw them take her. He must of realized that he sounded less
than sane because he never spoke of it again. But he
started messing up at work. Missed a few court dates, was
put on probation by Spangle. Didn't show up for work a few
days, kept calling in sick, got put on Short Term
Disability and Lisa suggested he get some professional
help. Came into work a few weeks later, and this was right
before you started, Ben. Like literally days before you and
Jerilyn moved down here and even interviewed with us."
Steve helped himself to yet another oyster. "Want one?" he
gestured to the plate. Ben and Jeri both shook their heads.
"He came into work," Steve went on, happy that he could
have all the raw oysters to himself, "and it was so obvious
that he hadn't slept at all. He looked like shit and he was
co-representing a big, big client with me, or well, was
supposed to. I had called him just a few days before that
to see if he got the notes and files I sent him and if he
had his shit in gear and he said yes, he was ready to rock
and roll, so I left it at that, but when I saw him stagger
into the office..." Steve shook his head. "And I felt bad
what I did, but if I told you how many hours I logged into
that case and how much I stood to gain, not just my salary,
but what I was going to be bringing into CS & A, you would
piss yourselves."
"Was he drunk?" Jerilyn asked, appalled at such
unprofessional behavior. She had done somethings on the job
that she regretted wholeheartedly, but she had never gone
into work under the influence.
"No, just sleep deprived. So I pulled him aside because,
well, we weren't the best of friends, but we were bar
buddies and we used to play squash together on a regular
basis before he flipped out on us. But I think I was the
closest thing to a friend that he had at that point so I
asked him what was wrong with him and did he realize how
close Jess and Lis were to firing him. And he told me that
he had been moonlighting for a secret agency that would
help him get his high school sweetheart back. He told me
crazy shit no self respecting lawyer would do. We get such
a bad rap about being money-grubbing and corrupt and all it
takes is one bad lawyer to make those of us who try and
follow our code of ethics look really bad. Plus, he was
making Carter, Spangle and Adams look bad. He had dirty
deals going all over the place. I can't even imagine some
of the crap he's pulled, judges in his pocket, taking
payoffs, bending tax laws for businesses we wouldn't even
touch-
"Why not?" Jerilyn asked.
"Because we believe they're not businesses at all but
fronts for illegal operations. I was disgusted. So..." here
he sighed. "I knew I was going to destroy his career, but
dammit, I was not going to have my firm get pulled into an
investigation for one little pissant crook, no matter how
smart he was. Especially after I was just made partner.
So... I went to Levi (Levi Adams, the third and last living
founder of the law firm, technically in retirement since he
was nearing eighty, but still owned the firm and still came
into the office to offer advice, except when the weather
was good for golfing) and told him what was up, what Psycho
Boy told me and you know what? That old man can move
**fast** when he gets a burr up his butt. Tracked Leo down,
told him in no uncertain terms that he's suspended without
pay or benefits until further notice, his contract will be
reviewed by the senior partners and he will recommend an
investigation and an disbarment hearing. Nobody had seen
him since. I had lunch with Jessy today and she told him
that Psycho Boy had been officially terminated as of today
and Lisa is starting a quiet, low key investigation of
him."
"What a nut job," was all Ben had to say before the next
bit of tittle-tattle popped up. "Speaking of nut jobs, have
you ever heard of a guy named...."
***********************************
Back in Starkweather's car
Starkweather shook her head. "So, you see, nobody hears
from Leo and all of a sudden, he's representing Mulder? For
the murder of a lawyer from Carter, Spangle and Adams? Leo
must have done a good job keeping it quiet because if CS &
A knew he was practising law again, they'd be all over him
like a cheap suit. ESPECIALLY if it is to defend the man
who is suspected of killing one of their own. And CS & A
love Ben's ass. I know that for sure."
"So what are you going to do when you get to Leo's?" Sam
asked.
"Get Ben's lighter back."
"Starkweather, pull over," Sam said.
"Sorry, but you should have gone before we left."
"Starkweather, I am serious. Pull over... there, the next
rest stop. We need to talk before we do this."
"Talk about what?"
"The fact that if Mulder is being targeted, that may very
well mean that Scully's being targeted, Skinner's being
targeted, Reyes, myself, you... we can't just go storming
into Leo's like... like... an action hero. We need to think
this out, what to do. How to help Mulder. Because if you
get yourself killed, that won't help any of us." Sam looked
at Al out of the corner of his eyes.
Al looked down at his com-link, looked back up at Sam and
smiled, nodding his head. He had good news.
Starkweather sighed. "I'm going to use the little girl's
room then," she muttered. "I'll be back."
The minute she disappeared into the women's room, Sam
turned around, "Al?"
"Starkweather's going to be okay. She avoids Leo, who was
sent out to kill her. Leo gets busted breaking into her
apartment by an off-duty cop who lives across the hall, so
he's going to be out of the picture for a little while. So,
she's going to be fine for a little bit." Sam breathed a
long sigh of relief. "Don't get too comfortable Sam,
Mulder's still in trouble. The X-Files still gets shut down
and all the X-Filers get picked off one by one,
Starkweather included."
"What do we have to do, Al?" Sam demanded.
Al shook his head. "We gotta get Mulder outta that cell.
And we gotta get Benny-Boy outta harm's way."
"Oh boy..." Sam muttered. "Wonder who I can call on to plan
a prison break?"
Al hestitated, then said, "Well..."
Sam read his mind. "NO."
"Sam."
"NO."
"Sa---AMMMM..."
"I have no choice?"
"Not at this late in the game."
Sam pursed his lips and slid over into the driver's seat
just as Starkweather came back. "What are you doing?"
"Get in," he said. "We're going for a ride."
"Where to?"
"The Lone Gunmen."
"OH GAWD....." she bitched heartily but she got in and let
Sam-in-Doggett drive
The LGM's Lair
9:00 PM,
Twenty-one hours away
from Mulder's predicted death
Sam had wasted precious time getting lost. For the life of
him, he could not remember how to get to the Lone Gunmen's
lair, since the first and last time he was there, Mulder
had driven. Al had left much earlier, mumbling something or
other about checking in on Scully. Starkweather had never
been to the infamous Lair before and asked him several
times, "Are you sure you know where you're going?"
But at straight up nine o'clock Sam finally pulled into the
dirt parking lot in front of the warehouse the Gunmen had
commandeered. Sam and Starkweather got out of the car.
"Where's the door?" she asked as she followed Sam around
the building.
"Here it is," Sam knocked on the heavy metal door, blended
in with the rest of the rusted-out building. "Ow!" He shook
his hand after pounding on the door.
"See... this is what's cool about metal-toed boots,"
Starkweather gave the door a few swift kicks.
The peephole slid open and Langley's nasally voice was
heard, "Oh, it's you," he said disparagingly to Sam-in-
Doggett.
Starkweather reached through the peephole and poked Langly
in the face hard. "Let us in, Blonde-O."
"OW!! CRIPES!!" Langley hollared as he backed away. Shortly
after, the door itself opened. Langley stood there, rubbing
his face
Sam decided to take control of the situation. "Look, all of
that aside, we need your help."
"With what?" Byers had just come out of the bathroom.
"Mulder is in trouble-" Sam started.
"No shit," Langley interjected.
"I have reason to believe that he could very well be killed
tomorrow."
"That's not good," Frohike stated the obvious.
"Especially since he probably used up his last of his nine
lives," Langley added, going to the mini-fridge to see if
there was any ice. He could feel his face swelling up from
where Starkweather had poked him.
"We need to get him out of that cell," Sam said.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. "Doggett, you are
NOT suggesting a prison break!" Starkweather gasped.
"Starkweather, you said yourself that the game just got
dirty."
"Well, I KNOW... but, god, Doggett... our careers... and
Mulder? What are we going to do with him? Let him go on the
lamb? What about Scully and the baby? And what if we're
wrong? We don't have a shred of physical evidence of either
guilt or innocence and we get him out and-"
"Mulder's NOT a killer," Frohike interupted staunchly. "I'm
in."
"I don't believe that he's a killer either, not anymore,
but if we don't have sufficient proof that he's innocent,
we could ALL go to jail for a very long time. And I look
terrible in orange." Starkweather defended her stance. "We
need to go through the proper channels. We need to find
Leo-"
"Starkweather, I'd hate to interrupt," Sam said, "but you
weren't exactly thinking about going through proper
channels when we were about to go after Leo tonight."
Starkweather scowled. "I wasn't thinking clearly and you
set me straight. But there's a difference between
misdemeanor assault and a felony offense. Mulder IS in
trouble, but let's get him out of the county lock-up, get
him into solitary at a secured location and lets work the
legal system. We're FBI agents, not the fucking A-Team."
"I LOVE that show!!!" Langley said. "I'm in!"
"Starkweather," Sam said patiently as he felt her hazel
eyes bore into him. "There isn't time to play by the rules
anymore. We need to get Mulder out now. Tonight
preferably."
"Tonight's no good," Frohike said, who had switched
computers while his was downloading information from CS &
A. "County doesn't have the best security system in the
world, but still, it's pretty intricate. We could probably
have their systems crash by tomorrow morning, tomorrow
afternoon by the latest."
Starkweather was totally ignoring Frohike's speech. "What
proof do you have Doggett? That Mulder's in this much
danger that there's no other alternative?"
Sam thought fast. "The house explosion. If these people can
blow up a house of an innocent woman... who's to say who's
next? Plus we need Mulder. We need him to find out what
really happened to Ben. I have trouble believing the body
they pulled out of the river is really him," he HAD to get
her to trust him. "There's a chance that Ben could still be
alive."
Starkweather sadly dug something out of her pocket. "This
IS his wedding ring though." She held the golden band up
for him to see.
"But Doc," Sam said, "if you saw Leo holding Ben's lighter,
who's to say they didn't take other things from him?"
Starkweather thought carefully of the "hallucinations" she
had been having lately. "Do you think there's really a
chance that's true?" she said in a voice that wanted to
hope.
"I do, I really do," Sam said, longing to reach out and
hold her tight but instead just taking her hand that held
Ben's ring. "I really believe you're going to see Ben again
to put that ring back where it belongs."
Starkweather's eyes got all bright as if she was about to
cry, but she was fully aware of the three spectators around
her. "WHAT???" she snapped at them. She put the ring back
in her pocket and pursed her lips. "Alright, how are we
going to get the cocksucker out of jail?" she asked the
Lone Gunmen
Meanwhile...back in the future...
************************************
Dr. Beeks felt sorry for the man falling under the forged
spell of the sedative, but she was really left with no
choice. In the agitated state brought on by undoubtedly
heightened psychological stress, the leapee was acting
irrationally and would possibly do more damage that the
already ridiculously-tight project budget could stand. The
Admiral would undoubtedly give her a mouthful when he
returned from the chamber to check on the situation on the
slight chance that Doggett could provide anymore useful
information, but there was little she could do. Her hands
were tied and Doggett slipped into unconsciousness,
mumbling something to her about finding the Admiral for him
and finding out about 37...
In Doggett's next conscious moment, he found himself
climbing out of Mulder's car in a driveway of a modest home
with his own name in blockletters sternly propped on the
mailbox. He reached down for his clipper when he saw his
truck was in the driveway. Passing the rearview mirror, he
paused and ran his hands over the peppering hair and more
obvious crowesfeet, but that wasn't what unnerved him. What
made him stop in his tracks was his own reflection starring
back at him. His pulse raced as he touched the hood.
"Who the hell was driving the truck?" Doggett murmured as
he ran as stealthily as possible into the house.
He whipped out his cell. "Mulder, I need you back over
here, something's up." Without a word, he tucked the cell
back in his pocket and burst open the door, wielding his
gun.
"What the hell did you do with Doggett?" Starkweather,
obviously fifteen years older, was demanding a stranger.
Starkweather gave him an imploring glance, and Doggett ran
upstairs. A fair-haired little girl with his eyes met him
in the hallway. He got down on a knee so he could be eye-
level with the little girl.
"Daddy, Mommy isn't going to hurt that man in the kitchen
is she?" She said, running up to him and putting her arms
around his neck. Doggett somehow accepted this as a
perfectly natural thing. "He said he was bringing you here,
but Mommy looked scared when he came in the house. I don't
think he is here to hurt anybody."
"What's his name?"
"Sam."
"Well, I better make sure your Mommy and *Sam* aren't going
to mess up the kitchen. You go play in your room, okay?"
"Okay daddy." She chirped and planted a kiss on his cheek.
He went into the kitchen, where Starkweather was still
welding a gun at Sam. In the next few minutes, Doggett saw
Mulder pull into the driveway and come into the house,
bursting through the door.
"Sam?!" Mulder sputtered.
The man nodded.
"You know this creep?" demanded Starkweather, not taking
her eyes off the man.
Earlier that evening
Cello Residence
*******************
With a heavy sigh, J. Steven Cello III plopped down his
briefcase in the hallway and slung his coat haphazardly
over an easy chair. The female members of is law firm often
marveled at how a man with Rock Hudsonesque looks, Roman
numerals behind his name, a successful career, and a 1956
red Porsche convertible stayed single as long as he did.
Steve went for the freezer and got out what Ben had called
once the Bachelor's Special, then went to the fridge for a
Heineken, took a long sip and set the microwave for his
frozen dinner.
"Hey, Steve, did you see the news tonight?"
"No, all I pay attention to is how the ball falls, how the
rain falls, how the market falls, and how the gavel falls,
and that I can get online. The news is too goddamn
depressing." Steve grumbled back, taking a cardboardish
mouthful of his unevenly heated chicken.
"Well...turn to channel seven, will ya. It's
depressing...but you sound like you could use a good car
wreck to watch."
"If you're just joining us we're at the site of an
explosion that happened right here behind me. Earlier this
evening this lot behind me had a house in it. Luckily, all
occupants have survived, no one has been hurt, but
questions remain about the origins of the explosions."
"I saw Psycho Boy in a clip earlier and did some quick
checking. Turns out that the house belonged to Ana and
Harry Sedai...his step-sister."
"Well, if that don't put the vodka in the jello shooters."
He whistled.
"You wanna hear something else?" Meg egged on
Steve nodded his head as if she could see him.
"I did some more digging and get this...the little rat has
been cherading as one of our lawyers and according to your
good friend and mine, the DA, said that she got the
impression Leo was just going through a song and dance, and
the DM's bail was set through the roof."
"I can't believe that little shit!" He muttered. "I tell
you what," he offered, "you fax those police reports to me
and I'll do your homework for ya. You take the rest of the
night off."
"I appreciate that, Steve. The police reports are fucking
captivating. They read like some goddamn lawyer novel."
"That's why I love this job, Megaparsec! I'll see ya
tomorrow." He said and hung up. He booted up his computer,
and pushed play on his stereo. "Phantom of the Opera"
blasted through the house as he went to the court TV
website.
Back at the LGM Lair
Sam was hovering over Frohike's shoulder. Byers and Langley
were gone, sent on errands such as gassing up the Lone
Gunmanmobile, filling a prescription for a sedative that
Dr. Starkweather wrote out, buying supplies like bullets,
batteries, beer, pizzas, a hat, a pair of reading glasses,
theatrical makeup and a pair of ladies shorts and a tank
top and to get Ben's motorcycle from the Starkweathers'
garage. Starkweather was sitting by herself in the corner,
cleaning her guns and Doggett's as well.
"Okay, here's the scoop," Frohike said, pointing at
MapQwest on the screen. "Here's where me and the calvary
will be operating. Once you and Freezie Queenie over there-
" Starkweather shot him a dirty look, but Frohike ignored
her "-get Mulder out, we'll roundaview two blocks south of
lockup. You and Starkweather go together but don't take her
piece of shit car and don't take your truck. Hopefully,
we'll have the surveillance equipment so screwed up and you
guys will have the main guard so drugged up, they wouldn't
be able to pin it on you. But you guys gotta move fast.
Once we do our kung-fu on their systems, we've got a window
of twenty-five minutes."
"That's not a lot of time," Starkweather said, extremely
concerned. She had just finished up Doggett's side arm and
had started working on her little Baretta she liked to wear
in her ankle holster. Just then, her cell phone went off.
"Agent Starkweather."
"Starkweather, it's AD Skinner. I'm very concerned for you-
" Starkweather half-expected him to call her "young lady."
"I know sir, and I'm sorry, but can I call you back?
Thanks." She hung up on him before he even gave her his
consent. Best to leave the AD out of the loop as far as
illegal activities go.
June 19, 2002
The Lone Gunmen's Lair
11:00 AM
Six hours away from Mulder's projected death
Everyone started to move around nine-thirty. Starkweather
took over the bathroom first and the "boys" (Sam included)
waiting with impatient feet and full bladders for her to
get out. Finally, Frohike declared, "Dammit, I'm a man. I'm
going to find a bush," and stalked out while Starkweather
finished her shower. She came out, hair wet, wearing the
tight white tank top and cargo shorts that Langley had
bought for her last night. "Little short, Langley," she
grumbled at him as she walked by, showing a little more leg
and thigh than she was used to.
Langly only grinned like an idiot and went about his work
humming "I want a girl with a short skirt and a
lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng jacket."
Starkweather had flashed him a dirty look as she parted her
damp hair and started to plait it into one thick braid. As
she fixed her hair, Sam dove into the bathroom and washed
up, putting on one of Byers' suits. Byers himself had left
to get food. He came out to find Starkweather with a Swiss
Miss hairdo, pushing hairpins into her scalp while Langley
watched in awe. "Dude, she looks like Princess Leia in
'Empire Strikes Back'!"
"Oh shut up," both Starkweather and Frohike snapped.
"Sit down, Doggie," Frohike ordered him gruffly. Sam did
and let Frohike unbutton his shirt.
"Kinky," Starkweather purred as she patted the braids
around her head.
"Careful, Mulder'll get jealous," Langley said as he
started to pack up his gear.
"Stick your head into a bucket of Chlorox," Frohike snarled
as he taped the microphone to Doggett's chest. "Now this is
plastic," Frohike lectured him, "so the sound quality ain't
that great, but you won't be setting off any metal
detectors. So you gotta speak up good and loud, but not too
loud." Sam buttoned up his shirt as Frohike went to get the
earpiece. "This cell phone," he held up a Nokia 5100 model
"is a fake, don't bother trying to call us on it. It's
camouflage for this," He held up an ear piece. "See, the
cord can become detached," He demonstrated then put the
cord back into the earpiece and connected the cord to the
phone, "and it'll still work. Once the clock starts
tickin', if the cord gets ripped away from the phone, don't
worry about. Keep your real cell phone in your shirt pocket
so you don't lose it. Now, you'll be able to talk to both
me and Starkweather," he turned to her now, carrying a
small headphone with only one earpiece that had a small
boom microphone attached.
"Oh goody," she said. "I get to be Garth Brooks."
Frohike carefully slid the headpiece on, positioning it
underneath her braids. He fiddled about with the mike. "How
does that feel?"
"Weird. But I'll live. Does it come with a fake cell phone
too?"
"No ma'am," Frohike said. "Yours is real. You're paired up
with Mulder so if we for some reason we get separated from
you two and out of radio contact, we still have digital
contact." Frohike took her hand and guided it to a small
switch on the headset. "If we start breaking up, flick this
small button "Up" and then hit the number three and the
"Send" button. You'll get us, I promise."
"What if I get separated from Mulder?" Starkweather asked.
Frohike glowered at her. "Your job is NOT to get separated
from Mulder."
"I'm not PLANNING on it!" she snapped.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Sam said. "We're all getting a little
tense. Let's just... take deep breaths. Cool down. We need
to be calm to pull this off." Sam sounded more relaxed than
he felt.... he looked at his watch.... straight up eleven
o'clock. Six hours away from Mulder's predicted doom... "Oh
boy..." he muttered as Byers came back from McDonalds with
enough grease to clog the arteries of everyone in a small
county.
Al, where are you?? he wondered.
He also wondered what Scully had found out last night.
June 19, 2001
3:16pm, Eastern Standard Time
Forty-four minutes away from Mulder's projected death
Sam had been sitting in the rental car, a nice looking Ford
Explorer that blended in nicely with all the other cars in
the busy Washington DC traffic, for hours now. His wait was
nearly over. He looked his (Doggett's) watch. Three-sixteen
on the dot. Sam's swiss cheesed memory tormented him. He
knew that those two numbers had Biblical significance, but
for the life of him, he could not remember what....
"Hey Papa John," Starkweather's voice burst into his
thoughts. "You good to go?" Because of the earpiece, her
voice sounded tinny.
Sam leaned casually on his steering wheel, as if he was
waiting for someone, when actually he was looking across
the street and the Lone Gunmenmobile, which was posing as a
touristy T-shirt vending booth.
"Locked, loaded and ready to go," Sam told her although he
was privately thinking Al! Where the hell are you???
"Are you sure you guys are secure selling shirts?" Sam
asked nervously. The last thing they needed was for his
crew to be busted for selling without a license.
Langly broke in. "It's all good, man, we do this in our
spare time. The shirts are no big deal, Byers likes to tie-
dye stuff, so we buy Rit dyes and white shirts and let
Byers go to town and when the Net is slow or the servers
are down, we hock his shit. We've got a permit and
everything and we even make a coupla bucks off of it."
"Want me to save you a shirt, Doggett?" Starkweather asked
dryly. "They are truly works of art."
"No thank you." Sam assured her as he looked at his watch
again. Three-twenty-six... he felt the fluttering wings of
butterflies doing aerobatics in his stomach. He worried not
only of the very real danger that lay ahead, but of Scully.
What else happened last night? Was she alright? Was she
safe? Did she get to see Mulder?
But he dared not to call her... Time was too precious
now... Sam checked his watch again... Three twenty-seven...
Time was very precious now.
Justin Leo walked down the hallway, comforted by the
dimnessness before the sunrise. He quietly counted the
number of doors before finding Ben and Jeri's apartment. He
jimmied the lock quite easily and let himself in, not
knowing that if he didn't shut the door all that tightly,
the cat liked to pry it open with his paw and sneak out.
Leo cocked his weapon and stole through the living room and
down the hallway. He poked his head into the bedroom, the
office, the bathroom. No Jerilyn. "Dammit," he muttered.
Well, he would just have to wait for her to come back, he
supposed.
He worried about the other errands for Marita Covarrubias
had demanded of him. Getting the serum and the information
to that thing which was once a compassionate human being,
now only a lethal drone that Leo could not even comprehend.
He felt himself start to panic because he didn't know where
Agent Starkweather was. Marita had demanded that
Starkweather be neutralized first: "Agent Starkweather is a
problem we need solved. Now. Tonight." She had said before
handing him the gun and picture of her. It had to be done
right. It had to be completed before dawn. Leo watched the
living room slowly brighten as he clasped the weapon in his
hand, oblivious to the cat sneaking out the door. Leo was
lost in his own thoughts for the photo album was open to
the page Ben had shown Jerilyn when he had first suspected
a connection between her and the Deputy Mayor.
Leo picked up the album for a better look. As he lifted the
heavy book, he noticed a silver antique locket lying on the
coffee table. He picked it up and opened it, looked at the
picture of the woman and child together. After stuffing the
locket in his pocket, he then took the picture out of the
album. Looked at the long dark hair and the catty greeny-
gold eyes and felt bile bubbling up his throat. He didn't
understand. Lilly was blonde with grey eyes. But this
burnette with hazel eyes had her face and her smile and her
body... Leo's eyes were drawn towards the mantle. At a
tastefully framed five by seven photograph of someone's
wedding. Leo got up to examine the two-dimension image of
Benjamin Starkweather in a rented black tux, smiling
broadly for all to see and of Lilly, with her hair now
blond like he remembered and softly curled, clinging to her
groom in a simple white gown and in lieu of a veil, a halo
of creamy pink roses and baby's breath sat onto of her head
like a forest nymph's crown.
The sickness left Leo, replaced by a rage and a hurt that
threatened to over take what was left of his control.
Lilly, alive after all these years. Lilly, disappeared at
the tender age of eighteen to reappear ten years later as
this almost legendary bitter, bitchy fed. Lilly, married to
another man, fucking another man.... Leo's lips pulled
together in a thin tight line, clenching the gun in his
hands. He looked too and hard for Lilly, Benjamin
Starkweather was not going to corrupt her anymore. Leo
already decided that Lilly was not going to die. Not today.
He'd wait for her to come and he'd warn her and take her
away. But the minute that Mulder was at the mercy of the
replicant-slave, Ben too, would breathe his last...
It never even crossed his mind once that Starkweather was
not Lilly, would never be Lilly, but was the key to finding
Lilly. He was what Scully had always privately feared
Mulder would become if she had not been there to keep him
honest. Completely, totally, irrationally obsessed...
Caesar the Cat had succeded in getting out of the apartment
and had decided to take a nap in the doorway of Officer
Sarah Johnson's doorway, who had just gotten home from a
twelve hour overnight shift. Her bleary eyes blinked a few
times when she noticed the cat. "I don't have a cat," she
mumbled as she stooped down to examine the tag. "Oh... it's
you Caesar," she groaned, picked the cat up. "Playing
Houdini again, I see," she crossed down the hall to return
the cat.
She noticed the door was opened, just enough for the sly
feline to slip out. Officer Johnson heard the sound of
weeping coming from inside. Under the circumstances,
normally, she would not have put the cat down and drawn her
gun because she had heard all about sensationalistic way
the unfortunate Mrs. Starkweather become a widow.
**But it was the sound of a MAN crying** Johnson crept up
to the door, tapping on it. "Mrs. Starkweather?" she said
cautiously.
Leo was so beside himself he didn't hear the cop's voice.
The cop slid through the kitchen and peered around the
corner, looking into the living room. She saw the stranger,
sobbing his heart out, his hand on the Starkweathers'
wedding picture, his other hand, clutching a loaded gun.
She swung out of her hiding place, pointing her service
revolver at him. "Drop the weapon, immediately!" she
ordered.
Leo jumped and fired at the cop, hitting her in the
shoulder. Johnson went down, but not before she fired at
him, getting his upper arm.
Leo unwittingly changed history, not by going through the
front door and collapsing for Johnson to nab, like Al had
told Sam what would happen... but instead he staggered
through the apartment, blood staining the carpets forever,
into the Starkweathers' bedroom and out to their balcony
and down the fire escape...
Johnson crawled towards a phone.
The female EMT interrupted Skinner and Scully in mid
conversation. "Ma'am, all vitals are normal. The wound
seems to be superficial. Is there any pain?" When Scully
shook her head, the EMT continued. "Looks like you're set
then. I'll just need you to sign these release forms since
you're acting as your own physician, and you'll be on your
way."
Scully nodded a thank you as Skinner approached.
"Yet another blazer ruined..." She sighed regretfully. "And
I got this one at a really great sale..."
"Scully, care to fill me in? What the hell happened?"
"In my professional opinion?"
Skinner simply nodded.
"I honestly don't know what to think...I know
Marita is connected with all this. I came here with damning
evidence on Mulder's defense attorney who was connected to
this address. She caught me off gaurd, Justin Leo came out
of hiding, and looked like he saw a ghost. He was acting
and looking as though he was on some sort of hallucenogenic
drug. Then Marita ordered him to finish his 'job' and she
shot me, and that's the last I knew."
"Scully, you go home and take care of Will, I'm going to
follow this up."
"Sir," Scully insisted with a sigh, "with all due respect I
can't just take a back seat in all this. I found a
connection between the Syndicate and Agent Starkweather
involving Mulder's father and Starkweather's adoptive
father yesterday, and after what I saw tonight, I think
Leo's involved with this somehow..."
"Scully, I'm not going to allow you to put your life in
danger anymore over this matter." Skinner scolded, "I know
you wanna help Mulder, but we have plenty of manpower right
now to put out a hunt for Leo. Catching Leo is not going to
be an issue." Skinner began slowly.
"Then what is the issue, Sir?" Scully demanded.
"Point blank, Scully, Billy Miles is being sent to kill
him." Her boss said matter-of-factly. "He's being sent to
his cell tomorrow afternoon..." Scully's eyes widened as he
spoke, "that's why he had been in the county jail instead
of the state penetentiary after his trial...that's why..."
he couldn't even finish.
"That's why he was set up?" Scully outraged, "To be baited?
If that's all, Sir, I've got...oh my God...Starkweather..."
"I still don't see how Starkweather fits into this equation
at all, Scully." Skinner persisted.
"Scully," Skinner began, "just make sure all your ducks are
in a row. If Leo gets away...Mulder doesn't stand a chance.
Remember...he's a trained lawyer, he'd take legal loopholes
and make them into your noose."
"You don't have to worry about that, Sir." Just then, she
looked down and saw the trail of blood going out the
balcony. "Sir...I've got to go...I'll call you back when I
know anything." She didn't wait for his goodbye as she
looked down and saw the trail of blood.
"We need a SWAT team out here NOW! Officer possibly down--
Yes, I'm the agent you just sent a team out for--
Poss...possibly down because I know an officer lived--
*lives* here and there is a pool of blood in the living
area and a trail of blood leading out to the bal--" as she
barked orders into the phone, she followed the trail out to
the balcony, as she saw the window ledge painted with dried
blood, and looked down below, she froze. Justin Leo, having
passed out in the bushes momentarily from loss of blood,
was just beginning to weave through the shadows. Detecting
his movement below, Scully changed her plan. "Call ya right
back..." she said, and pocketed her phone. Then, she made a
lightening-quick decision on her easiest way down.
"Mulder, you owe me a new outfit." She mumbled kicking off
her pumps and slipping out of her stockings so she could
scale the drainpipe in hot persuit without a slip, and
sticking her clipper inside her skirt, she got her footing.
High on adrenaline, Leo bolted away from the apartment
complex as soon as he spied a petite form clinging to the
drainpipes, his ambedexterity helped him to aim at the
movement on the pipes who was slowly making her way down.
Since they were both moving targets, Scully only flinched
at the sound of the firing.
"I'mcomingLilynotmuchlongernowbabyI'malmostthereLilyjustg
ottamakeittothecarLily" he half-mumbled, half-growled
incoherently as he sprinted down the sidewalk.
Scully wasn't far behind him. She whinced as the gravel
bore into her feet, but in the moment of the persuit, it
wasn't consequencial.
She pulled her gun out from underneath the elastic in her
belt.
"STOP YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF BEN AND JERILYN
STARKWEATHER YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT ANYTHING
YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW
YOU HAVE THE RIGHT--!" She barked, aiming her gun. When he
got to the apartment-complex parkinglot, she realized where
he was headed. "Oh no you don't..." she mumbled, and
changed direction, going to her own car.
Frantically, she pulled out her cellphone as her engine
revved up, she dialed Doggett's cell. No answer. "Come on,
come on, pick up!" She coaxed as she tore out of the
parkinglot, she dialed Starkweather's cell, carefully
snaking in and out of traffic as fast as she could, gaining
steadily on her target. "Dammit!" she hissed when
Starkweather didn't respond. Thankfully, it was light
traffic, and Leo was leading her to an evidently
residential area by the Patomac River. Racing after Leo,
she then dialed Skinner, "Sir, I'm nearing a neighborhood
called Patomac Court in persuit of Justin Leo, he is armed
and may still be under the influence. We appear to be
stopped at some sort of warehouse. No sir, it's not
marked...I cant' tell you which one," Scully said crouching
under the dash.
"LILY!! LILY!" Leo was screaming, his pistol had clunked
on the gravel, and he was now furiously pounding fists
rattling the sheetmettle, making the warehouse door sound
like falling rain.
Scully took this opportunity to make her arrest. Slowly and
as soundlessly as possible, she opened her door. She
grabbed her gun in the seat next to her and grabbed a set
of hand-cuffs.
"JUSTIN LEO!" She shouted, aiming her gun at the man for
the second time that night, "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE
MURDERS OF BENJAMIN AND JERILYN STARKWEATHER AND AIDING AND
abetting to the pending murder of Deputy Mayor F. William
Mulder," now the cuffs slapped and clicked shut. He was
red-faced and swollen now from hysterics. "You have the
right to remain silent," Which the suspect did, save for
quaking sobs, "anything you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law. You have the right to an
attorney, if you can't affoard an attorney the court will
appoint you one. Do you --"
Scully stopped in mid-sentence, the door had been pounded
open and cries for help from an apparently gagged mouth
could be heard towards the back.
"Who the hell have you got in there?" She demanded her
prisoner. "Jimmy Hoffa?" She cuffed the other end of the
links to her own wrist and led him through the stacks of
boxes back to where the muffled cries were coming from.
There was a locked room in the back, "Stand back, sir!" she
commanded, "I'm going to shoot the door down, we're getting
you out of here!"
With a bang, the lock blew open, and there sat Ben, bound
and gagged in a huddle on the floor. She didn't have the
heart to correct the charges against Leo in front of her
husband and hastily, albeit unmercifully, yanked the duct
tape from his mouth. She then took a peice of glass on the
floor and cut the tape binding his feet, followed by his
hands.
"Agent Scully...I..." Ben began.
"Just get in the car," she said as they headed out the
door. Leo had just been uncuffed and forced into the back
seat when the same black sedan she had seen earlier
screeched to a hault behind her own car, sending dust and
gravell flying.
"Agent Scully," a familiar old voice cracked as a tall
figure emerged from the car, "I wouldn't fire if I were
you. Kill me and you kill Mulder. Kill them all." Two more
goons emerged, both aiming thier own weapons. "I'm the only
one who can stop it." Now it was Scully's turn to surrender
her weapon to the gravel. She heard Ben whince in pain and
then fall limp, and saw them toss him unceremoniously into
the backseat.
"The agent?" one of them asked.
"She will be of use to us later. Without her prisoner, her
proof, or her partner she will comply. Without her husband,
Widow Starkweather will comply to our demands as well. For
now, leave her be." The man commanded softly as he puffed
his cigarette.
Having just gotten his orders from the men who assailed
Ben, Justin Leo knew his task, and tore out of the
parkinglot in Scully's car.
The three men climbed into the sedan, and sped off in the
opposite direction. Needing to hold her son just then, she
dialed her boss's cellphone, knowing he could give her a
lift home.
With quiet heaviness, she barely waited for Skinner to
reply. "Sir, I've lost them..."
"The Gunmen covertly received blood samples from Mulder and
Agent Starkweather that showed a good match. From
everything I've found in the last two days, Starkweather IS
the connection..."
"Scully, I think you need to talk to more adults than the
Gunmen and Mulder." Skinner finished.
"Don't you get it? Sir...Leo's target is Starkweather."
Skinner sighed defeatedly and pulled his cell phone out of
his pocket. "I need an APB out to the residence of Agent
Jerilyn Starkweather. 1121 Spotnitz St, 48 Constitution
Plaza Apartments to apprehend suspect Justin Leo. He is
considered to be armed and dangerous, possibly under the
influence of a hallucinogenic drug, male, 33..."
He wanted to fit more of the case together, he still wanted
to know where the proof was that Starkweather, Leo, and
Mulder were all connected, but while he was busy giving out
an APB, Scully had aparently taken her leave.
"Sir," Skinner nodded in the general direction of his voice
as he climbed into the car, "They came up empty in the
trashcans except a pack of cigarettes and several butts."
"What brand?"
"Morleys." The agent answered quizzically.
"Tell your men to clear out, we've collected all the
evidence necessary." Then he dialed Scully's number.
"Scully," he said not waiting for a greeting, "he's
back...I dunno how but Spender is back and there's a direct
connection this time with her and Marita Covarubias."
"Sir, I'm at the Starkweather's looking for more evidence."
"I know Ben smoked Morleys..." Skinner began.
"No...there's a fresh one in the ashtray that hasn't been
smoked yet. He's leaving us a trail..."
"One question I've got is what use does he have to keep Ben
alive?"
"I think I just found it sir..." Scully said as her eyes
fell on the open scrapbook and Mulder's picture alongside a
freshly smouldered Morley propped on an ashtray.
On the way there, Scully recounted what had happened, and
everything she had found in her investigation. She also
knew that as long as Mulder and Starkweather were both
alive, then Ben Starkweather would still be living.
Although the Syndicate apparently gained the upperhand
during her run-in at the warehouse, what CSM had to say
about Jerilyn still being alive gave her hope.
"Agent Reyes, I can't thank you enough for all your help."
Scully said when she finally made it to her apartment.
"Agent Scully," Reyes replied with a thin smile, "I wish I
could do more than babysit to help you out. Hopefully Agent
Starkweather and I can have a more formal introduction "
"Just call if you need anything." Scully said as Reyes took
her leave.
"Scully," Skinner began cautiously, once they were alone in
her apartment, "I want to help you, Mulder, and Will as
much as my position permits, but I can't do that until you
tell me what's going on."
"Sir," Scully replied a little more harshly than she
intended, "if what you say is true about Billy Miles, then
I don't think the President of the United States can help
us."
"If we get to the men who have Billy Miles under control,"
Skinner argued, "then we can get to Mulder and Starkweather
in time. All I need from you is the information you have on
Justin Leo. If I can track him down, or at least the people
who have him under control, then there is a good chance we
can protect both Mulder and Starkweather."
"Sir, with all due respect...as much as I appreciate your
concern, I doubt seriously that tracking down Leo will lead
to any kind of results except putting you at risk!" She
hissed, careful not to wake Will.
"Scully, if what you say is true about the link between
Mulder and Starkweather, then it is reasonable to assume
that everyone--Will, you, The Gunmen, and me--are at risk
for their exposure to the truth. Besides, in my profession,
I'm at risk every day of my life. All of us in this
business are."
"There's a difference between putting your life on the line
and being stupid. With all due respect sir, I think this
borders a little on the stupid side. I can't let you go out
there with no back-up."
"Scully," Skinner's tone was quiet and firm, "For now,
there's nothing you can do but wait. I made a promise to
both of you a long time ago to do what I could to protect
that division. Don't ask me to break it now. Not after all
we've seen. Now...we can do this the long way or the
shortcut around. Either give me the address, or I will get
it myself through other sources."
With a heavy sigh, she handed him the notes she had taken
on the evidence she had found on the man who instigated the
situation at hand.
"Let me know what you find out as soon as you can."
"Get some sleep, Scully...you look exhausted."
"You forget sir," Scully said with a wan girn, "I got less
sleep before I took maternity leave being Mulder's
partner...Will's less demanding."
"I'll call when I can." Skinner said and turned and left,
determined to get to the bottom of the pending fiasco.
Skinner made his way as quickly as he could to Leo's
address. He doubted the same things Scully had, but at the
same time, he couldn't just sit idly by and let everything
slip out of his hands. Leo's obsessed mindset had not
allowed for simple cautions, such as making sure the door
was locked.
He found the house exactly as it's inhabitant had left it,
with a bullitin board and stacks of files that were all
abduction related. He went thumbed through them and found
annonymous correspondence dating back from two years ago
giving little tasks, such as stopping environmental case
lawsuits from getting to a judge, or hampering with
evidence on fraud charges.
He logged on, guessed the password of an obsessed man easily,
and found his way through his internet history to abductee
chatrooms.
"These days," an old voice cracked out of the darkness,
"You don't need to wish to be a fly in the wall. These
little cameras make everything quite clear."
"You had this residence monitored?" Skinner growled.
"Of course. We had to. It is necessary sometimes to make
sure an associate of ours stays on track, completes his
task."
"Where is Billy Miles?" He fumed.
"That, I don't know. I wanted to employ that killing
machine as protection against the coming invasion. I have
every intention of keeping all those involved alive until
they are of no use. There is another party involved here,
and I'm afraid it is not my decision to make."
"What isn't your decision to make?"
"Whether or not we use the replicant."
"Like hell it isn't." Skinner barked back.
"Assistant Director, you stopped cooperating with us years
ago. I know what happened to Alex Krycek. My associates and
I can easily make things look so much worse than they
actually are. It would be ashame to see such a
distinguished career and a man's freedom go up in flames
over one cause. I am not an unreasonable man. You know that
I am a very powerful friend to have."
"Are you trying to cut me a deal?"
"Precisely. Obviously a monster running amok in the streets
of our Nation's Capitol after a local hero would not bode
well for the FBI. Stop Doggett's investigation into Kersh's
office, and I will hand over the serum that controls the
alien."
"Why the hell should I take credence in any promises or
bargains you make?" Skinner demanded.
"People make bargains with the devil every day, Mr.
Skinner. Either way, your career will be up in smoke once
Agents Doggett and Reyes begin their investigation. You
really have no choice but to comply."
"Where's the serum?"
3:45 PM Eastern Standard Time
County Jail
Sam stepped into the guard's desk, "I have an appointment
to see the warden at four," Sam spoke with a calm he did
not feel.
Frohike was talking in his ear. "You're all good buddy,
Langly's already in the system, Barney Fife there should be
pulling up the fake appointment..."
"Special Agent Frank Black?" the guard asked. Sam nodded
and flased the fake ID Langly whipped up for him.
"Alrighty, have a seat." The guard waved him over to a
chair.
After Sam sat and pretended to peruse his notes,
Starkweather walked in, wearing Byers' baggy dress slacks,
white dress shirt, hanging loosing over her tank top along
with Byers's suit jacket. She carried a big black purse
over her shoulder. She was sipping from a gargantuan mug
from some gas station.
The guard looked up to see the mannishly dressed woman with
the Princess Leia hair-do. "Can I help you?" he asked
wearily. His day was almost over. The night crew would be
there to relieve him in 25 minutes, he couldn't wait. He
did not feel like dealing with this she-man.
"I'm Diana Fowley, from INS," said Starkweather, holding up
her fake ID. "I'm here to see Manuel Diego Ibarra."
The guard checked his computer. "Ibarra don't have any
appointments today."
Starkweather flipped the bitch switch from off to on. "What
do you mean, no appointments?" she seethed. "There was set
up two weeks ago. By the Assistant DA."
"Well... I suppose I could... I mean... it's just that it's
getting close to the inmates suppertimes... if Ibarra don't
eat with the rest, he don't eat at all and inmates get
kinda cranky when they don't get to eat an-"
"You think I care about Ibarra's dietary habits?"
Starkweather snarled as she set the mug down on the desk
with a slam. She dug in her pockets and pulled out a sugar
packet. She put the packet in her mouth and opened the lid
of the mug. Steam from her hot tea came out in wispy
tendrils. "All I care about is getting my questions
answered and then tossing his illegal ass back to El Mexico
where it belongs."
Just as Starkweather made that very uncharacteristic
derogatory remark, Frohike said to Doggett. "We've got you
bumped to twenty-five minutes. It's go time, we're in.
Clock's ticking, Puppy-Man."
Sam got up from his seat, confident in the knowledge that
the Lone Gunmen had control of the jail's survalliance and
security. "Excuse me, miss?"
"WHAT??" she snapped.
"I hate to interupt, but do you have the time?"
Starkweather picked up the mug and threw it's boiling
contents all over the guard. As the guard covered his face
in real pain, Starkweather took the syringe out of her
purse, already loaded with an incredibly powerful drug
called Verstat. "Here's the mickey of all time, buddy-boy,"
Starkweather said while Sam pinned the guard's arms,
Starkweather ripped apart the man's sleeve and jabbed him
with the needle. "Beautiful," she murmurred as she pushed
the plunger.
"Verestat is a lovely, lovely drug. You feel everything,
you see everything, you hear everything, but you will
forget everything." Sam punched the burned man, knocking
him unconscious. Starkweather was already pushing through
the doors. "Alright guys, lets go get Big Brother...
Frohike... FROHIKE!!!" She pushed the ear piece into her
ear better. "You're breaking up. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying get your asses in gear. Billy Miles is in the
building."
"WHAT?!" Sam cried out! Can't anything in this damned
leap go right??? Sam didn't know that when Leo got away
from the police officer, history changed again and Mulder
was killed at four, not five. He checked his watch. 3:52.
Starkweather took her little Beretta out of her ankle
holster and her service weapon out of her pants. "Holy
jumping Aloysious God," she groaned. "Cover me,"
Starkweather pushed through the doors, Sam, both guns out
as well, followed, running down the stairs to the
basements, where they could already hear screams of terror
welling up from below.
The guard felt eyes on his back. He turned around and saw a
lanky man with dark brown hair and brooding eyes. "Hey," he
said, friendly-like, but nonchalantly moving his hands to
his MACE. After all, the guy was unarmed. "Are you lost?
You're not supposed to be here without an-"
A wailing scream echoed throughout the cell block. Mulder
lifted his head up. "Oh damn," he muttered.
Soon, amongst the screams were cries of "Get me the fuck
OUTTA here!!" "It's a monster!! For the love of GOD GET US
OUT!!!" "HEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!"
"What is goin' on out there?" Manny said as he got up from
his bunk and went to the bars just in time to see the
guard's head bouncing along on the floor and land directly
paralell to Manny's feet, his sightless eyes staring up at
him, his speechless tongue lolling.
"GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARR
D!!" Manny hollered, backing away from the bars.
Billy Miles kicked the decapitated head aside like a soccer
ball and stared at Mulder dispassionately.
"Hiya, Billy," Mulder said, not moving, hoping that maybe
there might be a shred of the real Billy Miles left in that
shell of a man. "What's up?"
Billy grabbed a steel bar and started to twist it....
Back in Jail...
Do not cross Go
Do not collect $200...
um.... sorry... anyways....
Manny was sound asleep, snoring loudly as drool dribbled
down his face. Mulder paid him no mind. Under the guise of
reading a book, Mulder was trying to quietly finish piecing
together what Starkweather had started.
But first he had to get inside her head. Oh God... he
moaned to himself, little realizing that Starkweather had
the same reaction when she had decided to profile him.
"Alright, Jerilyn," Mulder closed his eyes remembering
their first encounter. He had by surprised at her small
frame and baby face. She was a woman creeping towards
middle-age with extreme defiance. Nature had been very kind
to her, and Mulder remembered she was damn well how kind
Nature was to her and used Nature's kindness to her
advantage, lulling people into a sense of security... until
they pissed her off and she opened her mouth.
Judging by their few and far inbetween meetings, for
Starkweather did not hide the fact she was not overtly fond
of him and so did not make a point to talk to him, unless
she absolutely had to, Mulder knew for a fact she rarely
backed down from confrontation. Plus she was not afraid of
using force, at all, Mulder recalled, ruefull rubbing his
neck where she tried to choke him. B*tch he couldn't
help thinking. But her violent outbust only proved what
Mulder had thought from the beginning, if someone could
look beyond the childishly sweet face and into her eyes and
ignore the cutting tongue, they would see the passionate
and loyal heart that drove Starkweather into doing what she
believed was right. Coupled with her feral intelligence
that could took swipes at people's foolishness and
corruption fearlessly, someday she would be a force to
reckon with. But not until she learned to curb her
naturally salty tongue. Her mouth and her attitude was
going to get her in trouble time and time again until she
grew up. In fact, Mulder's ears still rang with the snarls
of his first fight with her, when she had busted him and
the Lone Gunmen for trying "To break into my home, to
tamper with my phones, to add surveillance cameras to
monitor my movements for my protection? That a little Air
Force medic retiree and current FBI agent, who survived
Basic training, medical training, FBI training and a
Slipknot concert is so inept at self-defense that a
illegally placed surveillance equipment is going to be
adequate protection?"
"I don't doubt your abilities to take care of yourself,
Jerilyn," Mulder said patiently. "You're a very capable,
competent woman-"
"Gee, can you be any more patronizing?"
"Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, do you have an open mind?"
"It's fairly open, but not so much that my brains fall
out."
"Jerilyn, you need to listen to me now, your life is in
danger."
"I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due to
my choice"
"I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due
to my choice."
And that was the stumbling block, Mulder reasoned, keeping
Starkweather from achieving healthy self-actualization.
**I'm.** **My life** **My choice** Her pride and her
arrogence and fear of loss, fear of being alone. Never a
**we** heard anywhere.
Mulder smiled and shook his head. Like looking in a
mirror he sighed to himself.
Pushing his own issues aside, he delved deeper into
Starkweather's psyche. As of right now, she believes her
husband is dead and her dedication to duty and honor is
probably fueling the fire of guilt that's burning her up.
She believes that she should have stopped Ben from his
fool's errand and now that he's gone, she owes it to him to
find the truth.
Why does that sound familiar? he wondered before his
profiling went on...
So where would she go for answers? Well... she probably
checked HIM inside and out. If she was as good as people
were saying, Mulder thought smugly, then her profile is not
going to match the true "murder" suspects, which will raise
the hairs on the back of her neck. So now she's dealing
with whether to believe or not believe, to be or not to be,
the eternal question. Unable to handle emotions, she
probably hides away to cry, only to come out feeling worse,
but in extreme denial and harboring much guilt, she will
try to shove those feelings even deeper down, trying to be
professional...
Until a gesture of sadness or kindness makes her crack.
Mulder sighed. Or a hologram appearance, that could make
her crumble.
So... Mulder backed up. While she was in professional
mode, she probably went back to square one. That damn oil
rig. There was a reason why Ben was ordered to prosecute it
and why he was silenced for it. Mulder wondered how far
back in the oil rig case did she go? Did she explore the
history of the vicious Black Oil known as Purity?
She would have... Mulder believed... or at least... I would
have...
He scoured his memory for the conversation he and Scully
had after her mission to Scotland, with Doggett and
Starkweather in tow. Incidently, it was Starkweather's
first X-File.
The Lone Gunman had just brought him to Scully's after his
futile attempt to make the Hurricane understand how much
danger she really was in. He was retchedly ill, literally.
Before Scully brought him to bed, he threw up her favorite
shoes.
After she took his temperature and listened to him whine
about how he felt like such a loser, a puppet, a sell-out,
thoughts planted by the benevolent Starkweather herself.
Scully had basically told him to stop whining because she
was there and together, they had battled worse odds. To
change the subject, Mulder had asked her about the trip.
"A complete diaster," she had said, once again mopping his
hot brow with the soft, cool, damp cloth. "We lost our only
witness and the legal evidence was confiscated by the
United States Army. It's under lock and key, we can't touch
it. The case is dead in the water."
"Legal evidence?" Mulder had rasped, striken with
bronchitis. He remember how much it hurt to breath, how
much effort it took to even keep his eyes open, but he
wanted to listen. He wanted to stay awake. "Are you
implying that there's not-so-legal evidence?"
"Starkweather killed a bounty hunter. She doesn't believe
that it was alien, of course, but... anyway... samples of
the blood was collected to be sent to Quantico, but Doggett
took one of the samples."
"Doggett?" Mulder had hardly been able to contain his
mirth, despite how bad he felt. "Puppy-Man?"
"Stop it Mulder," Scully gestured Mulder to sit up, which
he did. Scully slid behind him and he rested his head on
her, closing his eyes as she continued to bathe his face,
throat and chest with the cooling water. "And when we
examined the downed aircraft, Starkweather noticed an
abnormality with the c*ckpit shield... she said the glass
looked to be heated enough to liquidify, then cooled down
and solidify again. Starkweather helped herself to a piece
of glass." Mulder had chuckled. "Mulder, it's not funny.
They violated a crime scene, they disturbed evidence..."
"Scully, Scully, Scully, how often has our work been
sabotaged? I think Starkweather and Doggett are engaging in
a little CYA if you ask me." Mulder had sighed in
exhaustion and relief when he felt Scully's cool fingers
rub his temples. "But you still have no idea why this plane
went down?"
"I can't think of any. Starkweather was muttering she might
have a hunch, but before she said anything, she passed out
and Doggett took her home." Mulder had startled at that,
tried to sit up, but Scully had pushed him gently back down
against her again. "Remember how I told you that van the
bounty hunters were driving were hurtling towards her? She
threw herself across the hood of another car to avoid being
mowed down by the runaway truck. Also an Army lietenant
hurt her arm pretty badly. Come to think of it... she also
hit her head pretty hard when we had to make that emergency
landing in Rome... I'm surprised she held up this long."
"But you don't remember what her hunch was?"
"Mulder, don't press. It's not good for you, it's not good
for me. You're sick and I'm tired." She had stroked his
hair and used the same soothing voice that she did with
little Will when he was fussing. "Mulder, just let it go...
it'll be fine, just rest, just close your eyes and let it
go..."
And Mulder had let go and fallen into fitful sickly sleep
until the LGM returned from the errand to the drugstore
like Scully asked him. She had roused him enough to take a
heavy duty antiboditic and an even heavier
antidecongestant. Then he truly let go and slept like the
dead.
Now, trapped in a cell which seemed to grow smaller and
smaller every hour, Mulder was reaching for the thread that
Scully told him to let go. The oil rig, the oil rig... Al
said Starkweather was working on a connection between the
rig and the crash in Scotland. They were intertwined and
the reason for this whole nightmare.... Mulder's teeth
clenched together. He longed for a sunflower seed.
Stretching, he rotated his head left to right, hoping to
pop his stiff neck. As he did this, he happen to look at
Manny, still sleeping, still snoring.
And the answer hit him like a Mack Truck.
"Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud.
He had the answer. He just hoped there was physical
proof... he hoped it could be found before good ol' Billy
Boy paid him a visit.
"Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud. "What if the plane was
SUPPOSED to crash???"
Manny snorted in his sleep and rolled over, continuing to
snore.
Mulder began to pace. It made sense, it made perfect
sense... according to what little Scully told him about the
case in Scotland before she left with Doggett and
Starkweather... several other military planes had taken off
for routine missions and crash-landed way off course days
later. According to Starkweather, several airbases had
fueling contracts with the oil company. If Mulder was
right... if the oil company was just a cleverly simple
fascade for their real mission, to secretly import Purity
into other countries...
Mulder continued to pace. But wasn't the Black Oil
transmitted by bees? He knew it was, Scully had nearly died
from a bee from that weird farm in Texas. But the Black Oil
was also transmitted just by touching it. Plus... God only
knew how many other places there could be in the world that
was genetically engineering killer-bees...
Mulder went to the bars and grabbed the bars in
desperation, wishing he had the strength of Billy Miles. If
Ben would have been successful with bringing the case to
trial, everything would have come out. Including the race
of indigents that were immune to the Black Oil... which,
Mulder realized frantically, is what the Syndicate was
hiding... or rather the New Syndicate. Even though he knew
that most of the "Old Guard" had been killed, he had the
sneaking suspicion that someone was waiting in the wings
for just such an event so he... or she could grab the
reins.
And if the New Syndicate was anything like the Old
Syndicate... pretending to help the alien nation while
trying to undermine their efforts... they would NOT want it
to become public knowledge that some humans were immune...
humans like the two brave souls who perished on the oil rig
trying to stop their evil work... humans like himself and
Scully... possibly Starkweather... but definitely...
"William..." he breathed. "Oh no..."
If Starkweather didn't wake up, if he didn't get out of
this cell... the hell with the rest of the world, who was
going to protect Scully and Will?
"D-d-doggett..." Starkweather stammered "I think I should
lay off the J.D.'s."
"Starkweather?" Sam asked with an expression of forged
confusion plastered on his face. After fifteen years of
leaping, he had acquired acting skills. In a flash, he
pulled the gun out of the shoulderholster and had it poised
toward the gun.
"Please..." she stammered, "tell me you see a man in a God-
awful suit in this room? Because if you don't, Clarence is
back...and you should check the yellow pages for nutfarms."
"Awful?! What the hell do you mean awful?!" Al objected.
"This material is top-quality 100 % silk! He can't see me.
You're the only one who can see me honey." Al fibbed.
"I think I'm going fucking insane..." She closed her eyes.
"He's not real, in a minute, I'll wake up and this will all
go away...he's just a figment of my imagination..."
Mumbling, she walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured
every drop of liquor that existed.
"Who's there?" Sam immediately recoiled, poising his gun
for show.
Sam and Al, meanwhile, took the opportunity while her back
was turned to them to relay a message
*Mulder* Al exageratedly mouthed and pointed at his watch
then pointed at Doggett's gun and then emphatically pointed
at his head
"Callivici," she swung around, and immediately Al and Sam
both stiffened up, "Why'd you come back?"
"Ummmmm...St. Peter wanted me to tell you that unless you
stop cryin' me a river, Mulder's going to be killed in
prison within..." he held up Ziggy and punched in data,
"twenty four hours."
"Glad to see Heaven's gotten an upgrade." Starkweather
purred.
"Why do you think we couldn't affoard the cleaning bill?"
Al retorted.
"Oh, I see. You cant affoard a cleaning bill but you can
affoard technology that doesn't exist yet. It's a God damn
miracle."
"That's what Angel's do, isn't it?"
"I can't believe I'm arguing with a figment of my
imagination. God...I must be insane."
"I'm not God, I'm--" Al protested.
"Shut up!" Starkweather barked.
It was hard for Sam not to hide his urgency. Aside from
finding this situation slightly amusing, he desperately
needed whatever information Al had to give him. So, he
continued to play along. "Starkweather? Who are you talking
to?"
"Calivici...my gaurdian angel...with a pretty blinking
calculator..." she said quizzically.
Just then, Starkweather's cell phone rang. Scully's voice
was urgent on the other end.
"Starkweather, turn on the local news. There's something
you should see.
Sam gave her a questionning glance that was unanswered.
Starkweather turned her television on from cable to local
television.
"A Gap commercial?"
"No no no...it just went off the air...Mulder's lawyer is
connected to an unexplained explosion.
Al and Sam were both starring wide eyed at the next
newsclip from the Spangle, Adams and Carter lawfirm.
"Jiminy Christmas!" Starkweather murmuring at the sight of
the man on the screen. "Look at that..." eyeing the
cigarette holder..."looks a helluva lot like the cigarette
holder I gave...he knows...holy F*ck! I think that man
killed Ben...if he didn't kill Ben," she finished quietly,
"...then he at least knows who did..."
Starkweather faced the television set, nibbling her
thumbnail, oblivious to Sam or Al. "Unless, he's in on it
with Mulder, he is his lawyer, but... no if he was in with
Mulder, he would have gotten him off on bail, if Leo was in
on it with Mulder, there is no logical reason why Mulder
would still be sitting in that jail cell..." she bit her
lip. "Unless he's being set up..." she muttered to herself
as the commericals droned on and on, a McDonald's spot,
then a local spot for a furniture company, then the news
was back on. The way-too-happy anchor woman re-informed
Washington DC and the surrounding areas of the unexplained
house explosion in a nearby suburb of DC. As the already
over-played footage re-aired, the woman's voiceover
announced how the fire marshall suspected foul play, but
has not yet been determined. The picture flashed back to
the family, a woman, cut, scraped and mildly burned
hovering over her fear-striken son while a man, Justin Leo,
tried to comfort them both.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered to herself, still
thinking.
"Starkweather?" Sam asked.
"Hang on a sec," she said, dashing off into the bedroom.
Sam was about to follow, but Al already vanished, centering
on her. Sam heard a loud "CAN'T A GIRL GET SOME FUCKING
PRIVACY YOU PERVERTED LITTLE HALUCINATION??" Al
returned to Sam quickly, very red-faced, a rarity.
"She's changing," he mumbled, punching at his little com-
link to cover his massive embarrassment.
"What's going on?" Sam hissed insistantly. "Does anything
change?"
Al began punching at his com-link for real now. "Mulder
still croaks tomorrow night at straight up five o'clock
Eastern time-"
Just then, Caesar the Fat Orange Cat rounded the corner.
His tail puffed up three times it's normal size, hissed at
Sam, glared at Al. He lowered himself to ground, just like
his bigger and wilder relations in Africa, waggling his
rump, tensing his legs, preparing for the attack. Suddenly
he lunged himself off the floor, hurtling himself towards
Al, claws extended. Al, by now, used to animals freaking
out on him, put his hands behind his back and waited
patiently. The cat sailed right through him. Confused,
Caesar flailed his paws wildly as he tried to control his
landing. He belly-flopped onto the polished oak coffee
table, sliding across it, knocking magazines and coffee
cups off and falling into an undignified orange heap on the
floor. Tucking his tail between his legs, Caesar slunk off
to nurse his wounded pride in peace. "HA!!!" he barked at
the retreating cat. "That makes up for every damn cat Ex-
Wife Number... Four... Five... whatever... brought home to
destory my house."
"Al!" Sam snapped, although he had been privately amused by
the entire scenario.
"Oh oh oh right..." Al got back to work. "Oh... no...
Sammmmmm.... Starkweather gets killed **tonight** now."
"WHAT?!?!?!" Sam felt his heart and head spin. "How???
Why?"
Just then, Starkweather came back, in baggy khakis cargo
pants cinched tighly at her waist with a thick black belt,
a chest-hugging tight black t-shirt while wearing one of
Ben's dark grey dress shirts over it, shiny black boots Sam
correctly guessed where from her days in the Air Force. Her
hair was pulled tightly back in a harsh French braid. Over
her head, she had tied on a black hankerchief, pulling her
bangs back so anyone could clearly see the ugly scar she
earned when her flight to London was crash landing in Rome.
The tail of her braid swished back and forth as she walked
out. She wore dark black sunglasses. Her mouth was pulled
down what seemed to be a permanent frown. She looked evil.
But what scared Sam more was the gun she was loading.
"Starkweather, what are you doing?"
She smiled coldly at Sam, the smile worse than the frown.
"I'm gonna go have a chat with Mr. Leo," she said wickedly.
"Don't know if you wanna come with Doggett. The game just
got dirty and your suit is still sparkly clean."
Sam looked down at Doggett's neatly pressed black suit,
starched white shirt and grey and red and violet striped
tie. With a sigh, Sam took his gun out, checked it, took it
off of safety and put it back in his holster. "My suit's
washable," Sam said.
Starkweather stuck the gun in the back of her waistband,
pulled Ben's shirt over it and grabbed her car keys.
"Oh boy," Sam said, following...
After Scully left the Admiral, she could not shake the
feeling that he was not going to be honest with her. He was
an old family friend, and she believed he truly wanted to
do right, but that other forces were compelling him to do
wrong.
It was her job now to flush the compelling forces out and
uncover the truth. The truth now, she hoped, would set
Mulder free...literally this time.
She needed to go to the county jail and tell Mulder
everything she found. He would want to know he had a sister
again, even if it was someone who had a powerful left hook
that liked to meet his face. She had come to rely on Reyes
in these times when she needed someone to stay with Will
while she persued these questions, and was really not quite
sure how she would repay the favor.
The house phone rang just then, interrupting her train of
thought which was in the middle of trying to determine the
best next step in this investigation.
"Dr. Scully, my name is J. Stephen Cello III." a young man
began, "You don't know me, but one of my late colleauges
worked with one of your colleagues."
"What's this all about?" Scully was slightly irritated with
a man automatically introduced himself as someone whose
name sounded like the closing of Seseme Street this seseme
street was brought to you by the letter J and the number
3.
"Mr. Starkweather was my colleague." He answered sadly. "I
was going over the police reports here in front of me on
behalf of our lawfirm and your name came up. I think some
things need to be brought to your attention."
Scully got off the phone completely outraged. Mulder was
being set up by the young lawyer, and she was sure it had
something to do with the oil-rig. Now all she had to do was
find the connection. She picked up the phone again.
"Byers. It's Scully. Listen, I need you guys to do me a
favor as fast as you can. Can you get me the phone records
for Justin Leo and fax them for me? Thanks, I appreciate
it."
She was slightly puzzled when the records pulled up on her
fax machine immediately.
Al, taking a puff of his cigar, stood in the shadows. When
he realized she didn't see the smoke, he stepped into the
light.
"Mulder..." she mumbled to herself, a thin smile gracing
her lips, "you are one paranoid piece of work..."
"Ain't he though?" Al said, grinning over her shoulder.
Her brow crinkled in confusion when she saw one number from
Sasha Krycek at PO Box 37 Cherry Lane Apts.
She was interrupted on her way out again by yet another
phone call. This time it was her cell, so she wasn't
completely stopped.
"Scully," Skinner began, "what have you found so far? I
tried to get a hold of Starkweather, but she's busy at the
moment."
"Sir, I wish I could fill you in, but so am I. I'll get
back to you in a few hours."
Feeling in the way and out of the loop, Skinner sighed and
dialed the number for the mayor.
Scully wound down the streets towards the county jail
apprehensively, and it had nothing to do with the place she
was going. This whole ordeal was completely illogical. Who
gets arrested on pure circumstantial evidence? Why did the
judge set the bail so high? Where did the body come from?
The only question unanswered surrounding the whole mess was
that Ben was opening doors someone intended to keep locked.
Tonight, before The Gunmen, Starkweather, and Doggett came
for Mulder, she knew that she needed to find at least seven
out of ten. If they weren't all going to serve time in
prison, she needed solid proof.
From what she could tell from Ben's colleague, Mulder's
current lawyer was someone definately working with someone
who had connections...but as far as she knew, the most
connected man in Washington was dead.
But, she reminded herself with a heavy sigh, "The phrase
'as far as I know' has a way of not going very far in this
job."
She knew without a doubt that if the break didn't succeed,
Mulder would be moved to a state penetentiary. That wasn't
the worst of the consequences, though. Her mother would
undoubtedly be given full legal custody of William, while
she, Starkweather, Doggett and the 3 Muskateers would be at
the mercy of the court system. The truth that's out there
would be abandoned, ignored, closed completely.
But that wasn't going to happen.
She was going to find the proof they needed. Mulder was
going to help her after rush hour tomorrow, and then
everything would be back to normal. Why do I feel like
I'm in the middle of a Television series that's jumping
the shark?! she wondered.
Scully pulled into the parkinglot and got out the paper she
reached for after the Gunmen called. She scrawled the
message that Starkweather was coming for him at rush hour,
and beneath that some questions she knew Starkweather would
need answers to if the stunt was to be successful. She
folded up as small as possible and tucked it in her skirt.
Because of the late hour, she was escorted into the
visitation room by a gaurd, and while the gaurd went to get
Mulder, she took the opportunity to get the paper out. She
fervently wished that she could have brought Will with her.
She knew Mulder would want to see him, and that maybe he
would give the motivation she knew Mulder would need to
pull this off. But it was past her bedtime. She knew that
Parenting Magazine would not approve of bringing an infant
to a jail at such a late hour.
Scully never doubted Mulder's innocence. Even still, after
all the horrors he'd been subjected to, she knew those
monsters hadn't robbed him of his compassion. The only
doubt that existed in her mind was whether or not they
could prove it. She wasn't ready for this to be their
goodbye. She sighed tentatively as she waited, and resolved
that she wouldn't let that happen.
Mulder was finally escorted into the visitation room.
"You look tired, Scully." He said quietly, and took her
hand through the glass. Scully thought he looked like he
had probably stayed awake the entire time he was in
custody.
"It's been a hellish day. I went to Martha's Vineyard."
"Finally decided to take a vacation there like a normal
person?" He answered dryly. "Wow, Scully. I'm impressed. If
that's what it takes to get you to have a vacation, I
shouldda gotten arrested long ago."
"Yeah, Mulder." She answered. "I went there to have my
yearly rendez-vous with the pizza guy." Scully deadpanned.
"That explains why you look so beat." He answered in his
annoying monnotone with a sly smile. Not skipping a beat,
he took her hand through the gap in the plexiglass at the
bottom, and in the same tone of voice, he asked "How's
Will?"
"A lot like you at this moment." Scully said with a wan
grin of her own. Then slid the paper into the palm of his
hand. And with one glance into his eyes, she made it
understood that this wasn't something to clue the gaurds in
on.
"I haven't passed notes to a girl I liked since grammar
school." He mumbled only loud enough for her to hear. He
cracked a slight smile as he read the contents of the note.
"My apartment until two weeks, Scully...that's where I'm
staying." he said, hoping she'd get the hint.
For a moment, she looked confused, and then her face lit up
in understanding as she realized what he was saying. 42
until...minus...two weeks...fourteen days...42 minus
14...28.
"Scully, the way I see it, we've got proof already. I know
what Doggett and I saw on that oil rig, and I think the
connection lies in my cell mate."
"Manny?" Scully asked incredulously.
Mulder nodded slowly in response. "They were using people
who wouldn't know any better...and if they did know better,
they'd need the job too badly to quit, and be willing to
take the risk. The people on the oil rig were transporting
alien oil...same as we saw inTungeska...the same oil that
was being used in those planes in that airport in Scotland.
Certain higherups were getting they're palms greased..."
"No pun intended?" Scully interrupted.
"Right..." he continued, "...anyway...the connection is
that oil, and those workers...if we can get proof that
Kersh and whoever else is connected get those stocks the
boys and me found, then I'm home free."
"There's something else I found out today. I found proof
that the Admiral has been dealing with the Syndicate. They
are the ones who adopted Jerilyn through a blackmarket
adoption agency. Leo has been parading as a lawyer for the
past two weeks. He was fired from his firm, and is
connected to a bombing of a home in a residential
neighborhood. Your old lawyer has been calling this one
number quite a bit for a Cherry Lane apartments, and
they've been increasing lately. When I leave here, I'm
finding out who lives at that address."
"Scully.." Mulder began hesitantly, "if this doesn't work
out, and I..."
"Mulder..it'll work..." she said firmly.
***************************
Mulder was lead back to his jail cell, and with Manny
oblivious to the world around him. He wasn't prepared for
the possible scenerios that might unfold tomorrow. He
envied Manny of his oblivion, and wished insomnia hadn't
worked its spell.
"Kid, I'd get some shut-eye if I were you, tomorrow's gonna
be a helluva day." Al growled. He popped in, perched in the
middle of the top bunk. At the unexpected sound, Mulder
jumped out of his skin.
"Al...tomorrow..."
"I know kid, I heard."
"Why is Starkweather coming?"
"Because..." Al began, inhaling a puff of her cigar, "I
think she knows as good as Sam, me, Scully and Doggett that
you didn't do this."
"You get anything from Doggett?" Mulder asked, raking his
hand through his hair.
"Nada. He went psycho on us earlier...the project
psychologist said he kept screaming some cryptic shit about
seeing his son...and some number. Beeks finally hadda..."
"Walk-ins...Star-light..."
"Don't tell me cryptic shit disorder's catchy?"
"Walk-ins are souls trapped in some kinda limbo who try to
help the living. They helped me find Samantha...Luke died
suddenly and before his time. I think thirty-seven's gotta
be tied to this somehow."
"Well if he's trying to tell us something," Al grumbled, "I
wish he'd give us some useful information...like who's
gonna win the world series in 2012."
"Check on Scully, will ya?"
"Mulder, I wish I could...but I need to check in on Sam...I
gotta update him on Puppy Man..."
"Al...go check on her..." Mulder implored simply.
"Mulder, Scully's a strong woman, she can take care of
herself. Sam's at the mercy of Starkweather and the
Gungeeks..."
"They're harmless..." then, running his hand along his
stitches, he decided to change the assessment, "well...she
won't do anything with witnessess..."
"I'm only one guy, kid..." Al began to protest, "I can't be
in two places at once."
"In my line of work...believe me...you can." Mulder
deadpanned.
Letting out a relenting grumble, Al flashed him a dirty
look as he called out to Goushie. "Center me on Scully!"
**Meanwhile...**
Scully left the courthouse, and headed down the bypass on
her way to the address she found for Cherry Lane
apartments. Over and over again, she went through the
evidence they found. Scully never saw the lawyer who was
supposedly representing Mulder. She never knew what he
looked like. Was it safe to assume that the man in the car
getting the vile in the warehouse just the day before had
been Leo? She wished that there was enough time to call
Starkweather to find out what the Admiral told her.
But there wasn't enough time to do two things at once at
this point. She was approaching the neighborhood, and if
the caller was involved at all in these operations, then it
was an easy conclusion to arrive at that the caller would
be on the move, and if that were the case, she needed to
catch the caller out the door.
Undetected, Al appeared instantly on Scully's passenger
seat.
"Where we goin' Scully?" He asked as if she could hear.
She pulled into the apartment complex and counted down the
doors till she came to the right address. He saw two cars,
did a liscence plate check on both. There was one
registered to a Sasha Antzen and to an Ana Sedai.
As Scully made her way up the door Al followed, and as soon
he caught sight of the door number, it hit him...
Scully rang the doorbell to apartment 37C, shouting "Open
up! This is the FBI!"
**Where we last saw Scully, at Cherry Lane Apt.'s 37C**
After repeatedly pounding on the door, she whipped out her
gun and turned the safety off.
Al, bug-eyed and anxiously jingling change in his pocket,
gnawed nervously on his cigar. "Scully, I wouldn't go in
there without back-up if I were you, sweetheart." he warned
unheard, and a relieved smile spread across his face as he
saw her slip the gun in her breast pocket and whip out her
cell-phone lightening-quick. "'Atta girl! Going in there
without back up is more along Spooky's line."
She dialed Skinner's number, and as soon as she heard him
grumble a barely comprehendable hello into the phone,
without waiting for pleasantries, she began spatting
instructions. "Sir, it's Scully. You want to know what's
going on, I'll let you know as soon as you get to 37C
Cherry Lane Apartments in Georgetown. I'm about to make an
arrest, and I need back-up." She hung up, not waiting for a
reply, and whipped her FBI-issued revolver out of her
pocket reflex-quick. With the safety clicked off, she aimed
at the doorknob, and with a bang, the lock shot open.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" she screamed, aiming her gun
at shadows. "THIS IS THE FBI! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"
"Who the hell is she?!" Al sputtered, wishing to God that
he could be seen. What the fu--?" He stammered as he saw
something darting between the hall way and the counter.
"Oh, come on, Agent Scully!" Marita purred incredulously,
emerging from the hallway. "You don't have to be so Goddamn
melodramatic." If Scully was surprised to see her in the
dark, modestly furnished living room, she gave no
indication.
Scully and the strange woman and the apartment began to
flicker and fades like lights do when the electricity goes
out. "Goushie! NO!! Keep me up as long as you can't!
Dammit!! I dont' care whatchya gotta do, keep me here!" He
hollared helplessly.
"You are under arrest for conspiring to murder Benjamin
Starkweather and Deputy Mayor Mulder, and interfering with
police investigation."
"I think you've been watching too many cop movies...you're
acting like a fucking action hero" she sneared coolly. As he
heard the two women spitting their fire, Justin Leo decided to
take the opportunity to head for the door.
Scully's attention was averted just then by movement in the
shadows, but she kept her gun trained on her target.
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can
and will be used against you in the court of--who's there?
Hey!" Scully demanded as Leo made a run for it towards the
exit. He knew that if he stayed, Lilly would slip through
his fingers like an abstract. Marita saw her opportunity
and took it.
"The cavalry isn't helping you now, sweetie." She sneered
with a swift kick, knocking Scully's gun from her grip.
"You bet your sweet ass they are Lucrezia Borgia." Al
combatted as if Marita could hear. If it was at all
possible, his eyes got even wider like a cartoon character,
as Marita poised Scully's own fire arm at her.
Scully swung at her, and dove for the gun, but Marita was
quicker. Leo had moved from his shadow, and was now
starring shit-faced and wide-eyed at Al.
"He can see me! Holy Shit! He can see me!" Sputtered Al as
he stared just as bewildered and white-faced, and consulted
his hand-link. "Goushie, what the F*CK is going on here?!"
He hollared helplessly into the air.
"It's a gun, Leo, not a ghost." Marita said in his
direction while her intent stare never diverted from
Scully. "Now get out of here and do your job while I do
mine." She snarled. Leo did her biding, and quickly bolted
for the door.
"You, honey," Al began "are a good argument for the people
against the right to bare arms. Guns don't kill people.
Psychochicks with a gun kill people." Al smirked. "Goushie!
He hollared desperately, "try it again, center me on Sam!
Pronto!"
The womens' voices were crackling like radios and cell
phones do when the frequencies are off, and with one last
flicker, Al wasn't connected with the room anymore.
"That's what I get for getting a nutcase to work for me,
isn't it." Marita said with a smirk. "But he *is*
effecient, so I think I'll keep him around."
Scully saw the blue lights flickering in the window from
the street below, and in an almost automatic action, she
lunged at Marita, gripping for her arms first, in attempt
to point upward.
But without even aiming the gun steady, Marita fired when
she saw the blue and red lights get more intense. Skinner
heard the blast from inside, and rushed his crew inside
apartment 37C.
Scully didn't think she heard any kind of gunshot. She felt
rust-warm and sticky substance on her FBI-approved navy
blazer. The only thing she remembered was jerking back. She
was dimly aware of footsteps coming up to the front door.
She was aware that she was falling.
And then she was aware of nothing more.
*****************************************************
...Meanwhile...Coffee is my Friend 24 hr CoffeeShop
***************************************************
Justin Leo watched his step-sister leave. He understood her
fears, and admonished himself for not sending them away
before she threatened the restraining order. He really
couldn't blame her. But, what could he do? He was too far
in to get out now.
The coffeeshop was near a college, and the owner had the
foresight to install a few modem hook-ups. He booted up,
logged on, and went into the UFO chatrooms, clinging to the
faint hope of helping him find answers, and surfed UFO
newsletters for possible clues. The hope that Marita
Covarubias and her colleagues would help him find Lilly
was slowly dimming.
He whipped out his cellphone at it's abnoxious whirring
beckon.
"Leo." Marita hissed coldly, "you have a chance to redeem
yourself after your last blunder." then calmly, "One last
chance to get her back."
Deciding it best to remain silent, he said nothing, waiting
for her to continue, and nodded as if he could see him.
"We have an emergency on our hands. I need you to drop all
contact with the Deputy Mayor. I need you to get the serum
and send the replicant to his cell tomorrow afternoon. Your
the only one with the information to send the replicant to
the correct location. We'll be so much closer to getting
Lily back...and others..." her voice trailed off.
Without a word, he hung up and logged off, leaving the
coffee shop.
After making sure Ana and Peter were safe, Leo finally went
to the safehouse like he had been ordered to earlier that
day. Marita was waiting for him. "You little bitch," Leo
started to say, but Marita pointed a gun at him.
"You have but one chance to redeem yourself Leo." She
purred, coming closer to him, step by step until the gun
barrel was shoved painfully into his chest. "Agent
Starkweather is a problem we need solved. Now. Tonight."
She turned the gun around and handed it to him. "And don't
even think of turning it on me. It's not loaded. You'll
need to get your own bullets." She handed him the manilla
envelope "Here's a better picture of her. The address is
on the back. I want this done right. Make it look like a
robbery gone wrong." She turned her back on him and left
him alone.
Leo, fuming, ripped open the envelope. He pulled out an
8x10 color glossy print of a photo of Starkweather from a
survelliance shot. She was getting out of a white Dodge
Dynasty that had obviously seen better days, one hand still
on the wheel as she looked off to the right at something.
Her hair was bundled on top of her head in a heavy-looking
bun. She wore a nice black suit and a blue silk blouse,
with a blue and silver scarf knotted at her neck.
Leo dropped the photograph, exhaling. The hair color and
the eye color was wrong, of course but the face...
"**Lily**" he gasped.
7:42 pm
Cherry Lane Apts.
*****************
Marita knew that Justin Leo was not fooling himself. He
worked for her and the rest of the consortium for one
reason, and one reason only: to find someone he lost. He
always held the false illusion that the tasks he performed
were find Lilly--that he was on a quest.
Marita banked upon that mistake and allowed him to keep the
illusion.
After all, as long as he prooved useful to her, what was
the harm in allowing him to think that that poor dumb girl
was still alive? He pined after Lilly, and allowed himself
to believe that he was performing his tasks to find her.
His quest was under false pretenses though; only brave men
go on quests.
She was beginning to discover however, that a Luke
Skywalker costume was hard to fit on Chewbacca.
She knew that Davis Justin Leo possessed absolutely no
balls...and for that quality, she kept him at her heels.
Cowards are easily intimidated and very gullible. She knew
this, and used it to the Ultimate Advantage.
There were still too many things standing in the way of the
Ultimate Advantage. She knew that those things would have
to be illiminated. The first steps were taken already, but
until the Smoking F*cker was out of the picture, she knew
that these steps wouldn't be taken.
Under her careful supervision, the syndicate was finally
gaining a stronger hold, and more paranormal cases were
brought to the FBI's attention. Careful strategizing went
into placing the Starkweathers in the Nation's capital, and
careful strategizing went into expelling Mulder from the
FBI. With the truth revealed about his sister, Marita and
CSM were both delightedly surprised he chose to stay in the
FBI; but admittedly, it was the dumb luck of Vietnam that
landed Mulder at City Hall.
His abduction was not, however, part of the plan; nor was
his death. The syndicated HAD been participating in
abduction conspiracies for years. Lilly and Samantha were
both planned to be taken at different times as part of a
contract made under Spender. The best she and Krycek could
determine when the news reached them was that Mulder's
disappearance had been the work of the alien rebels.
The Ultimate Advantage now was to find out exactly what the
alien rebels were fighting against, and how to negotiate
with both. Marita knew that by controlling Billy Miles she
was getting close to the Ultimate Advantage.
Giving Dana Scully and Fox Mulder the Truth behind Jerilyn
Bailey Starkweather was done because she also knew that if
Agents Scully and Mulder and the rest of the members of the
x-files and their cohorts had a distraction, then it would
take them off their gaurds and allow Mr. Leo to perform his
tasks and her Syndicate time to take control of the
situation.
Ben Starkweather and Justin Leo had one very crucial
commonality: they both lacked any ounce of courage, but
they needed to believe that they strove to do the Right
Thing...and that false belief drove their very Existances.
She knew that this tendency would be the convincing factor
in proving them useful to the Ultimate Advantage.
There was a swift knock at her door. The old man drew a
long puff of his cigarette when Marita opened it.
"You are a fool if you think the Truth is a good
distraction for Agent Scully." He told her. "Against your
advice, Ms. Covarubias, I have set Mr. Miles in motion."
"Then we risk finding what we need to know. They can help
us." She insisted
"It is too late. It has been done."
"Then you are the fool," she hissed. "Because any
stronghold we had is going to be lost now. The lie will be
gone!"
"You should watch yourself, Marita." The old man purred.
"The lie is about to explode. But I wouldn't disappear. You
and your handyman will be usefull in the near future. We
might be lucky. They might crack. We might survive."
"You can only threaten me with *might*...not with *MIGHTS*
you BASTARD!" She exploded, and an with an emphatic BANG
slammed the door in his face, not carring that it was the
most immature reaction she could have to his maddening
words. More importantly, it proved to him that she was
loosing her control...but she had to admit, it was
theraputic.
She ran to the closet where her suitcase gathered dust, and
against his advice, began to pack it.
With Scully's urgent call moments before, Skinner called
reinforcements as quickly as he could, confident in his
agent's ability to keep the situation under control. He had
no doubt in his mind that her ability to do that alone had
saved both the x-files and Mulder's life too many times to
count. If Scully was calling for back-up, he was sure this
whole matter was going to be resolved, and for that he was
relieved. It wouldn't be long now before the x-files could
get as back to normal as the x-files got.
He turned into the neighborhood the apartment complex was
in, and the shrill ring of the cell phone broke his
concentration on the route to the apartment. He wouldn't
have taken the call at a time like this normally, but his
CLD told him that it was from Starkweather's father.
"Look, I don't have a whole lot of time on my hands, so
unless this is urgent, I don't want to hear it." He would
have barked if it hadn't been someone so important.
"A.D. Skin-man" the Admiral slurred, chuckling at himself.
Skinner was not amused. "Skin-man! Damn if um gooohaaana
miss that Mulder guy. I'm tooaaaaaaaaaaaatally PLAHASTERED!
I'm having trouble---hehehehe---getting my Lipttttths to
wohk wissttth mah mouth." He bursted out into fits of
laughter that transformed into sobs.
"Look, Admiral, I dont' have time for this, I'm in a very
tight situation here, so if you don't mind, please walk it-
-"
"Shhhhstshkin-mannnner, I sthing sthish Mahahahrita chickah
issth um gonna send Billy the Kid...Heheheheheeheee! Billy
the KID!! On the DM!" Then he burst into laughter which
evolved again into tears.
"Oh hell." Skinner finally said after a short pause while
the inebriated man's sobs dwindled. "Can you tell me how
you know this?"
"Sttthhhe said she wouulhuhuhuhuhud" He sobbed.
"Admiral? Admi— from the silence on the other end, Skinner
was sure that the man had drowned into oblivion, and was
grateful.
He pulled up to the apartment behind the half-dozen squad
cars, wondering how much of this information Scully already
knew, and wondering who lived in this apartment. Instinct
told him it was someone from the syndicate, or someone who
affiliated themselves with a new ring. Either way, the
suspect was someone who didn't miss their target.
Skinner climbed out of his car as one of the feds
approached him warily. "Sir, we've searched the premises
for the suspect and there was none. A shot was fired, and
we went ahead. Your agent didn't have her service weapon in
her possession when we found her."
"Did you question the landlord?" He was not ready to deal
with the darkest possibilities yet. For now, he needed to
get his job done.
"A woman by the name of Sasha Krycek lived here with her
grandfather according to the landlord." Was the man's quick
reply.
Meanwhile, inside the apartment, once Scully was no longer
a force to be reckoned with, Marita knew that this was the
opportunity to flee. Abandoning her suitcase but arming
herself with the service weapon, she made her way down the
fire escape with the grace and speed of a gazelle.
Scully was first aware of the coppery smell of her own
drying blood. Then a massive headache coupled with the dull
ache in her left side screamed at her nervous system back
into full alertness.
Seconds later brought footsteps up the stairs and a band of
uniformed officers. Realizing with a sigh of relief that
the bullet had only glazed her abdomen. Clutching it when
she saw the officers approach her, she applied pressure on
the table, and managed to struggle to a sitting position.
Skinner soon followed with a concerned and relieved
expression taking over his normally stone-stern features,
he made sure that the EMS had, in fact, been called.
"Scully, I wish you had told me sooner what was going on, I
would have sent back-up long ago and this would have never
happened," he scolded more like a parent than a boss.
"Sir, Marita was here. I tried to arrest her, but she got
the gun away from me and fired my gun and escaped."
Skinner's expression turned from relieved to sh*t-faced.
"God…Scully…I wasn't going to let you bury Mulder again…but
if what the Admiral said was true…"
"What did the Admiral say?" Scully demanded as the EMT tech
took her pulse.
Skinner couldn't bring himself to admit to her his
conclusion.
Meanwhile, back in the future
*****************************
Back in the waiting room, while Al was with Sam and
Starkweather in his time, Doggett was going stir crazy in a
time and body that was not his own.
He hated being ordered. He hated not being able to do
anything about the situation back in his own time. He hated
seeing a stranger's face in reflections, and hearing
another man's voice come from his mouth.
He was angry and trapped, and of course those feelings
manifested themselves as a jack-ass, making him lash out at
anyone in arm's reach. He surprised himself when he didn't
punch the Italian Seaman back.
He hated not being there for either Scully or Starkweather.
When he was assigned to Scully's department, he made a
promise to her to watch her back and to find Mulder. He was
about to break both of those promises.
He'd already broke one of them once.
He knew he earned his trust after two years of partnership,
but unless something was about to change drastically, it
looked as though all that trust was about to be shot out of
the water. Not that her trust mattered if she was going to
be killed, he thought, exhaling in rage.
Jerilyn Starkweather was a different matter altogether.
Doggett felt a need to protect Scully, but something seered
much deeper for Doc. Somehow, he felt a bond that hadn't
even been there with the former Mrs. Doggett.
He knew both of them must be going through a Hell worse
than he was at the moment, but all the same he just
couldn't stand around and wait for disaster to strike. He
had abandoned both of them, and wanted to get back.
But to return, he had to believe that this was possible.
That this was real. That this wasn't a nightmare, a cruel
joke, a neat party trick, a hallucination, or something in
between.
Part of him wished fervently that this was possible. If
time-travel was possible, then there existed a slight
chance that someone could go back in time and stop the
death of Luke, who would have been 13 three days ago...or
was it fifteen years and three days ago? That was becoming
more and more arbitrary to Doggett. The only time reference
that mattered to him now was how much time remained until
disaster struck.
The catch of the century was that if time travel *was*
possible, then that meant that Luke could have been saved.
There was something he could have done to prevent his son's
horrible murder. That wasn't something he was prepared to
believe. That wasn't something he was prepared to
understand. That wasn't a road he wanted to go down.
Doggett let out a ragged sigh; one more time he half-
heartedly studied the police photos Admiral Calivici had
left with him. Clinging to the possibility that maybe
*this* time something would reveal itself that hadn't come
to light before.
Doggett wasn't aware of falling asleep. The almost-
arbitrary time had gone undetected, but in his next
conscious moment, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes,
blinking in disblief.
"Calivici!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, not taking
his eyes off of the sight before him. "What the F*CK is
going on here. What the HELL IS THIS!? DAMMIT I..."
"Agent Doggett..." Verbeena came in, eyes widening in
puzzlement.
"Where's Calavici."
"In the imaging chamber."
"Did he have anything to do with this?" He managed to
stammer, pointing a finger at what Verbeena Beeks couldn't
see.
"What--*this*--exactly are you referring to. Agent
Doggett... John...I assure you we are not a part of what
you are upset about." Dr. Beeks had never experienced a
reaction like this from Leapers before.
The image of an illuminated toweheaded little boy with
piercing blue eyes appeared to be unalarmed by his
outbursts. Doggett thought he heard the boy saying "Daddy."
He was mouthing *thirty-seven* over and over again.
Then the boy was gone.
"Thirty seven...thirty seven...God dammit! Thirty-seven
WHAT?!?! THIRTY SEVEN *WHAT* LUKE?!!!!"
Verbeena ordered the nurses to prepare a sedative.
Tacoma Park Falls
LGM Lair
*************
Langly got off the phone with Starkweather and finished
his game of Starcraft.
Of course he was going to help her. She knew where he
lived. She got Byers to confess his virginity. She had a
gun and knew how to use it. "You gotta love a girl who
knows how to put a guy in a death grip." He said with a
sigh.
But there was one thing he had to do before he began. He
logged on and pulled up his playlist. As much as he loved
Megadeth and The Rolling Stones and Hendrix, it was time
for some new stuff.
"Frohike!" He hollared "What the hell is Elvis doing on my
playlist!"
"Blame it on Mulder." Frohike grumbled back. He was busily
pecking away. Langley leaned over his shoulder. "Since when
are you a fourteen year-old girl, DanasRomeo?"
"Since I logged on." Frohike replied.
"That is just plain SICK, man." Langley said, turning back
to his computer and pulling up his favorite MP3 site.
"Not as sick as having a crush on Mulder's SISTER." Frohike
retorted.
"I do NOT have a crush on Starkweather!" Langley pouted.
"Deny, deny, deny...but it's as plain as the ridiculous
glasses on your face." Frohike refuted, not even glancing
up from his screen.
"That does not even dignify a response!" Langley answered
and went onto the Kazaa website, typed a search for
Metallica, not because he actually liked their music, and
spitefully right-clicked every song on the list.
"Get jiggy with THAT Lars Ulrich" he muttered and waited
for each song that snuck its way into that search.
The song began to play, and Langley and Frohike both
exchanged confused glances. "Since when did Lars Ulrich
play the trumpet?" Langley wondered.
I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
and eyes that burn like cigarettes
I want a girl with bright allocations
who's fast and thorough and sharp as a tack
she's playing with her jewelry she's putting up her hair
she's touring the facilities and picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a loooooooong jacket
I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
and a voice that is dark like tinted glass
she is fast thorough and sharp as a tack
she is touring the facility and picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a looooonnng long jacket
I want a girl with the smooth liquidations
I want a girl with good...dividends
At city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen
She wants a car with a cup holder armrest
She wants a car that will get her there
she's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a White Chrysler LaBarren
I want a girl with a short skirt
and a looooooooooooong jacket
"She's got great dividends." Frohike said dryly.
"You think Lars Ulrich knew Starkweather?"
"I don't know what the fuck that was...but sure as shit
wasn't Metallica."
"Sometimes people don't do their homework when they upload
these files." Byers said, coming in the lair. "According to
those idiots, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" from the Armageddon
soundtrack was recorded by Bjork and Jewel.
"What ever happened to the days when bands had normal
names...like They Might Be Giants..."
"...and The Who, and The Kinks?" Frohike finished.
En route to Justin Leo's
Starkweather kept her eyes on the road, darting around
cars, zipping around semis. "Get out of my way," she
muttered to a large 1977 puke-orange Chrysler Landau that
just boxed her in. "I'm gonna miss my exit," she snarled,
fuming. "God dammit all."
"Starkweather," Sam said patiently as Al sat quietly in the
backseat, sweating. "Slow down."
"I'm only doing 65."
"No, I mean slow down your thinking. You're going off like
a bat out of hell on a hunch. That's a little too..." Sam
grimaced. "Mulder-like for my taste."
"That's not even funny, even by your redneck standards."
"Why Leo? If I'm going to get dirty with you, I need to
know why."
Starkweather sighed. "I wish I would have thought of it
sooner, it would have saved everyone a bunch a grief,
Mulder and Scully especially. But y'know when you're
suddenly widowed, things have a tendency to slip your mind.
I could just kick myself Doggett. You were right, Mulder IS
getting set up, possibly to go to prison, but more likely
to be killed and it's because I had my head up my butt."
"What are you remembering?"
Starkweather sighed with relief as she passed the Chrysler
and floored it, going 80 mph now. "Before all this shit
went down, you know how I stopped by your house a few days
ago to drop off a copy of the Scotland file you wanted to
look over? And I told you how Ben and I were going to go to
Hooters to celebrate him getting his new job and his first
solo case?"
"Hooters?"
"Yeah, I know... real classy... anyway, the beer started
flowing and people stop talking and start gossiping....."
**********************
A few days back
Hooters Bar and Resturant
Ben found his new friends quickly, they had rock-star
seating in front of the big screen TV. Ben introduced
Jerilyn to everyone as his "big, bad FBI broad," which
broke the ice immediately. Jerilyn was relieved to see a
lot of the lawyers had brought girlfriends and wives. Soon,
the beer was flowing and Jerilyn found herself laughing
along with everyone else, feeling for the first time in a
long long time, like a normal woman.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar dark-
haired, hazel puppy-dogged eyed man, so slowly, she
swiveled her head around and sure enough, there was the
Deputy Mayor, watching the game with some of his City Hall
cronies. He grinned at her and Starkweather forced herself
to smile back and, as politely as possible, turn her
attention back to the game. I don't know what's worse she
grumbled to herself as she sipped her beer. Almost being
killed or having to be nice to that son-of-a-b*tch for the
rest of my life.
Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that the 'son-of-a-
bitch' was growing on her. She couldn't explain it, didn't
even try to explain it Ben, to Doggett, to anyone, but she
felt like she knew him from somewhere before. Perhaps in a
different lifetime, but, even though she still personally
didn't care for him but was slowly learning to accept his
assistance and advice... whenever she was in his presence,
she felt a strong aura of... Family?
She couldn't figure out why that word kept popping into her
head. She took Ben's hand and tried to enjoy the rest of
the night.
Several beers later, Jerilyn finally managed to forget
about the existence of Mulder and got drawn into petty
scandals that plague every business and occupation.
J. Stephen Cello III, recently promoted to the status of
"partner" at Carter, Spangle and Adam, ordered another
round plus another plate of raw oysters on the half shell,
turned to Margot Marie Rogeux-Brandybuck, the lone female
lawyer present, and said "Hey Meg, psycho-boy finally got
canned."
"I thought he was fired a long time ago?" Meg said after
she downed her beer in one big chug. Her name was prettier
and bigger than she was, but her personality made up for
lack of looks. She could also outdrink almost all of her
male co-workers, which was amazing since she was more
petite than Starkweather or Scully even. She was also as
lethal as arsenic in the legal arena. "Did you order me
another beer, Steve?" She lit a cigarette and offered one
to Ben, which he accepted.
Steve, meanwhile was so devastatingly handsome, he could
make women forget the existence of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt
and Russell Crowe. When Ben introduced him to her, Jerilyn
had a huge "Damn, I'm married" moment when she looked into
his dazzling green eyes and perfectly white smile. "You
doubt me?" He said mockingly. "No, I mean, it's official.
Jessy Spangle herself told me they officially terminated
him today."
Jerilyn had a pretty good buzz going, feeling like a wimp
next to Meg and Ben was feeling no pain. She devoutly hoped
he remembered that they had taken the motorcycle out and
she was in no shape to drive them home on it. She shrugged
it off. There was a Motel 6 within staggering distance. A
devillish little smile played on her lips. Now, THAT
might be kind of fun...
Ben broke into her impure thoughts. "Wait, guys, I'm lost.
Who's psycho boy? I don't think I've met him.....
You weren't missing anything," a voice drawled from further
up the table. Snickering was abound.
Ben, who loved gossip worse than a old woman, persisted.
"So what's the story with Pyscho-Boy?"
Meg took a long pull on her newest beer before she started.
"Young kid, fresh outta school. Jessy and Lisa (as in Lisa
MacKenna Carter, daughter of the decreased law firm
founder, Malachy Carter, second in line after senior
partner Jessy Spangle) were recruiting him hardcore.
Finished first in his class in his undergrad years at
Purdue in Indiana, fucking second out of everybody at his
class at Harvard Law. We get him here and he's doing
crackerjack good. Nailed his first two cases, got a sweet
out of court settlement on his third. Was making the firm
not just good money, but real money. Then after awhile, I
don't know. He got weird on us."
"Define weird," Ben asked.
Meg and Steve looked at each other, then looked at Jerilyn.
"Well... we don't want to offend anyone, especially you,
Jeri," Steve said, giving her a smile that made Mrs.
Starkweather want to melt at his feet. Motel 6, Motel 6
she told herself as she leaned her head, spinning just
slightly from all the beer, onto Ben's shoulder.
"It takes a lot to offend me, Steve," she said, snuggling
into Ben.
"Well, I gathered that... but Ben told us that you've had
the dubious honor of being assigned to the X-Files Division
at the Bureau and we've all heard stories about your
predecessor, Special Agent Mulder."
"That's Deputy Mayor Mulder, if you please," Meg said,
lighting another cigarette. "How the hell did he get THAT
job?"
My daddy Jerilyn thought with a groan as she said "I
heard the stories too and a lot of it is just that.
Stories. Really, the X-Files just checks into shitty crimes
that normal feds can't explain away. We're the IRS of the
paranormal. We audit these claims of strange happening to
see if there's for real or not and a lot of times they're
not... but the times they are... damn, watch your step, the
first one's a lu-lu."
There was chuckling abound, but then Meg asked. "So do you
believe in that stuff? UFOs and whatnot?"
Jerilyn thought carefully. She knew she was drunk, so she
made herself speak slowly. She did not want to spew out:
Actually, about a month ago, I was attacked by a
homicidal shapeshifter which my colleagues believe is from
another planet. "Oh, I don't know. With an universe as
big as ours, its illogical to even pretend that other life
cannot exist out there, but on the other side, the only
aliens I've seen for sure are on the movie screen." Jerilyn
shrugged. "I have an open-mind, but not so open that my
brains will fall out."
"Well, that's what happened to Leo. His head opened up and
his brains plopped out onto the floor," Steve said before
he sucked down an oyster. "Damn shame. A damn shame."
"Leo?" Ben asked. "Who's Leo?"
"Justin Leo. Psycho Boy." Steve devoured another oyster.
"About four months ago, he just came unglued. Guess he had
some girlfriend, a high school sweetheart that was abducted
and he had never been able to deal with the truth of what
happened."
"Which was?" Ben asked.
"According to police reports, the kids were on a date, she
wandered off into the woods and was never seen again. Leo
swore up and down that she was abducted. By aliens. And he
saw them take her. He must of realized that he sounded less
than sane because he never spoke of it again. But he
started messing up at work. Missed a few court dates, was
put on probation by Spangle. Didn't show up for work a few
days, kept calling in sick, got put on Short Term
Disability and Lisa suggested he get some professional
help. Came into work a few weeks later, and this was right
before you started, Ben. Like literally days before you and
Jerilyn moved down here and even interviewed with us."
Steve helped himself to yet another oyster. "Want one?" he
gestured to the plate. Ben and Jeri both shook their heads.
"He came into work," Steve went on, happy that he could
have all the raw oysters to himself, "and it was so obvious
that he hadn't slept at all. He looked like shit and he was
co-representing a big, big client with me, or well, was
supposed to. I had called him just a few days before that
to see if he got the notes and files I sent him and if he
had his shit in gear and he said yes, he was ready to rock
and roll, so I left it at that, but when I saw him stagger
into the office..." Steve shook his head. "And I felt bad
what I did, but if I told you how many hours I logged into
that case and how much I stood to gain, not just my salary,
but what I was going to be bringing into CS & A, you would
piss yourselves."
"Was he drunk?" Jerilyn asked, appalled at such
unprofessional behavior. She had done somethings on the job
that she regretted wholeheartedly, but she had never gone
into work under the influence.
"No, just sleep deprived. So I pulled him aside because,
well, we weren't the best of friends, but we were bar
buddies and we used to play squash together on a regular
basis before he flipped out on us. But I think I was the
closest thing to a friend that he had at that point so I
asked him what was wrong with him and did he realize how
close Jess and Lis were to firing him. And he told me that
he had been moonlighting for a secret agency that would
help him get his high school sweetheart back. He told me
crazy shit no self respecting lawyer would do. We get such
a bad rap about being money-grubbing and corrupt and all it
takes is one bad lawyer to make those of us who try and
follow our code of ethics look really bad. Plus, he was
making Carter, Spangle and Adams look bad. He had dirty
deals going all over the place. I can't even imagine some
of the crap he's pulled, judges in his pocket, taking
payoffs, bending tax laws for businesses we wouldn't even
touch-
"Why not?" Jerilyn asked.
"Because we believe they're not businesses at all but
fronts for illegal operations. I was disgusted. So..." here
he sighed. "I knew I was going to destroy his career, but
dammit, I was not going to have my firm get pulled into an
investigation for one little pissant crook, no matter how
smart he was. Especially after I was just made partner.
So... I went to Levi (Levi Adams, the third and last living
founder of the law firm, technically in retirement since he
was nearing eighty, but still owned the firm and still came
into the office to offer advice, except when the weather
was good for golfing) and told him what was up, what Psycho
Boy told me and you know what? That old man can move
**fast** when he gets a burr up his butt. Tracked Leo down,
told him in no uncertain terms that he's suspended without
pay or benefits until further notice, his contract will be
reviewed by the senior partners and he will recommend an
investigation and an disbarment hearing. Nobody had seen
him since. I had lunch with Jessy today and she told him
that Psycho Boy had been officially terminated as of today
and Lisa is starting a quiet, low key investigation of
him."
"What a nut job," was all Ben had to say before the next
bit of tittle-tattle popped up. "Speaking of nut jobs, have
you ever heard of a guy named...."
***********************************
Back in Starkweather's car
Starkweather shook her head. "So, you see, nobody hears
from Leo and all of a sudden, he's representing Mulder? For
the murder of a lawyer from Carter, Spangle and Adams? Leo
must have done a good job keeping it quiet because if CS &
A knew he was practising law again, they'd be all over him
like a cheap suit. ESPECIALLY if it is to defend the man
who is suspected of killing one of their own. And CS & A
love Ben's ass. I know that for sure."
"So what are you going to do when you get to Leo's?" Sam
asked.
"Get Ben's lighter back."
"Starkweather, pull over," Sam said.
"Sorry, but you should have gone before we left."
"Starkweather, I am serious. Pull over... there, the next
rest stop. We need to talk before we do this."
"Talk about what?"
"The fact that if Mulder is being targeted, that may very
well mean that Scully's being targeted, Skinner's being
targeted, Reyes, myself, you... we can't just go storming
into Leo's like... like... an action hero. We need to think
this out, what to do. How to help Mulder. Because if you
get yourself killed, that won't help any of us." Sam looked
at Al out of the corner of his eyes.
Al looked down at his com-link, looked back up at Sam and
smiled, nodding his head. He had good news.
Starkweather sighed. "I'm going to use the little girl's
room then," she muttered. "I'll be back."
The minute she disappeared into the women's room, Sam
turned around, "Al?"
"Starkweather's going to be okay. She avoids Leo, who was
sent out to kill her. Leo gets busted breaking into her
apartment by an off-duty cop who lives across the hall, so
he's going to be out of the picture for a little while. So,
she's going to be fine for a little bit." Sam breathed a
long sigh of relief. "Don't get too comfortable Sam,
Mulder's still in trouble. The X-Files still gets shut down
and all the X-Filers get picked off one by one,
Starkweather included."
"What do we have to do, Al?" Sam demanded.
Al shook his head. "We gotta get Mulder outta that cell.
And we gotta get Benny-Boy outta harm's way."
"Oh boy..." Sam muttered. "Wonder who I can call on to plan
a prison break?"
Al hestitated, then said, "Well..."
Sam read his mind. "NO."
"Sam."
"NO."
"Sa---AMMMM..."
"I have no choice?"
"Not at this late in the game."
Sam pursed his lips and slid over into the driver's seat
just as Starkweather came back. "What are you doing?"
"Get in," he said. "We're going for a ride."
"Where to?"
"The Lone Gunmen."
"OH GAWD....." she bitched heartily but she got in and let
Sam-in-Doggett drive
The LGM's Lair
9:00 PM,
Twenty-one hours away
from Mulder's predicted death
Sam had wasted precious time getting lost. For the life of
him, he could not remember how to get to the Lone Gunmen's
lair, since the first and last time he was there, Mulder
had driven. Al had left much earlier, mumbling something or
other about checking in on Scully. Starkweather had never
been to the infamous Lair before and asked him several
times, "Are you sure you know where you're going?"
But at straight up nine o'clock Sam finally pulled into the
dirt parking lot in front of the warehouse the Gunmen had
commandeered. Sam and Starkweather got out of the car.
"Where's the door?" she asked as she followed Sam around
the building.
"Here it is," Sam knocked on the heavy metal door, blended
in with the rest of the rusted-out building. "Ow!" He shook
his hand after pounding on the door.
"See... this is what's cool about metal-toed boots,"
Starkweather gave the door a few swift kicks.
The peephole slid open and Langley's nasally voice was
heard, "Oh, it's you," he said disparagingly to Sam-in-
Doggett.
Starkweather reached through the peephole and poked Langly
in the face hard. "Let us in, Blonde-O."
"OW!! CRIPES!!" Langley hollared as he backed away. Shortly
after, the door itself opened. Langley stood there, rubbing
his face
Sam decided to take control of the situation. "Look, all of
that aside, we need your help."
"With what?" Byers had just come out of the bathroom.
"Mulder is in trouble-" Sam started.
"No shit," Langley interjected.
"I have reason to believe that he could very well be killed
tomorrow."
"That's not good," Frohike stated the obvious.
"Especially since he probably used up his last of his nine
lives," Langley added, going to the mini-fridge to see if
there was any ice. He could feel his face swelling up from
where Starkweather had poked him.
"We need to get him out of that cell," Sam said.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. "Doggett, you are
NOT suggesting a prison break!" Starkweather gasped.
"Starkweather, you said yourself that the game just got
dirty."
"Well, I KNOW... but, god, Doggett... our careers... and
Mulder? What are we going to do with him? Let him go on the
lamb? What about Scully and the baby? And what if we're
wrong? We don't have a shred of physical evidence of either
guilt or innocence and we get him out and-"
"Mulder's NOT a killer," Frohike interupted staunchly. "I'm
in."
"I don't believe that he's a killer either, not anymore,
but if we don't have sufficient proof that he's innocent,
we could ALL go to jail for a very long time. And I look
terrible in orange." Starkweather defended her stance. "We
need to go through the proper channels. We need to find
Leo-"
"Starkweather, I'd hate to interrupt," Sam said, "but you
weren't exactly thinking about going through proper
channels when we were about to go after Leo tonight."
Starkweather scowled. "I wasn't thinking clearly and you
set me straight. But there's a difference between
misdemeanor assault and a felony offense. Mulder IS in
trouble, but let's get him out of the county lock-up, get
him into solitary at a secured location and lets work the
legal system. We're FBI agents, not the fucking A-Team."
"I LOVE that show!!!" Langley said. "I'm in!"
"Starkweather," Sam said patiently as he felt her hazel
eyes bore into him. "There isn't time to play by the rules
anymore. We need to get Mulder out now. Tonight
preferably."
"Tonight's no good," Frohike said, who had switched
computers while his was downloading information from CS &
A. "County doesn't have the best security system in the
world, but still, it's pretty intricate. We could probably
have their systems crash by tomorrow morning, tomorrow
afternoon by the latest."
Starkweather was totally ignoring Frohike's speech. "What
proof do you have Doggett? That Mulder's in this much
danger that there's no other alternative?"
Sam thought fast. "The house explosion. If these people can
blow up a house of an innocent woman... who's to say who's
next? Plus we need Mulder. We need him to find out what
really happened to Ben. I have trouble believing the body
they pulled out of the river is really him," he HAD to get
her to trust him. "There's a chance that Ben could still be
alive."
Starkweather sadly dug something out of her pocket. "This
IS his wedding ring though." She held the golden band up
for him to see.
"But Doc," Sam said, "if you saw Leo holding Ben's lighter,
who's to say they didn't take other things from him?"
Starkweather thought carefully of the "hallucinations" she
had been having lately. "Do you think there's really a
chance that's true?" she said in a voice that wanted to
hope.
"I do, I really do," Sam said, longing to reach out and
hold her tight but instead just taking her hand that held
Ben's ring. "I really believe you're going to see Ben again
to put that ring back where it belongs."
Starkweather's eyes got all bright as if she was about to
cry, but she was fully aware of the three spectators around
her. "WHAT???" she snapped at them. She put the ring back
in her pocket and pursed her lips. "Alright, how are we
going to get the cocksucker out of jail?" she asked the
Lone Gunmen
Meanwhile...back in the future...
************************************
Dr. Beeks felt sorry for the man falling under the forged
spell of the sedative, but she was really left with no
choice. In the agitated state brought on by undoubtedly
heightened psychological stress, the leapee was acting
irrationally and would possibly do more damage that the
already ridiculously-tight project budget could stand. The
Admiral would undoubtedly give her a mouthful when he
returned from the chamber to check on the situation on the
slight chance that Doggett could provide anymore useful
information, but there was little she could do. Her hands
were tied and Doggett slipped into unconsciousness,
mumbling something to her about finding the Admiral for him
and finding out about 37...
In Doggett's next conscious moment, he found himself
climbing out of Mulder's car in a driveway of a modest home
with his own name in blockletters sternly propped on the
mailbox. He reached down for his clipper when he saw his
truck was in the driveway. Passing the rearview mirror, he
paused and ran his hands over the peppering hair and more
obvious crowesfeet, but that wasn't what unnerved him. What
made him stop in his tracks was his own reflection starring
back at him. His pulse raced as he touched the hood.
"Who the hell was driving the truck?" Doggett murmured as
he ran as stealthily as possible into the house.
He whipped out his cell. "Mulder, I need you back over
here, something's up." Without a word, he tucked the cell
back in his pocket and burst open the door, wielding his
gun.
"What the hell did you do with Doggett?" Starkweather,
obviously fifteen years older, was demanding a stranger.
Starkweather gave him an imploring glance, and Doggett ran
upstairs. A fair-haired little girl with his eyes met him
in the hallway. He got down on a knee so he could be eye-
level with the little girl.
"Daddy, Mommy isn't going to hurt that man in the kitchen
is she?" She said, running up to him and putting her arms
around his neck. Doggett somehow accepted this as a
perfectly natural thing. "He said he was bringing you here,
but Mommy looked scared when he came in the house. I don't
think he is here to hurt anybody."
"What's his name?"
"Sam."
"Well, I better make sure your Mommy and *Sam* aren't going
to mess up the kitchen. You go play in your room, okay?"
"Okay daddy." She chirped and planted a kiss on his cheek.
He went into the kitchen, where Starkweather was still
welding a gun at Sam. In the next few minutes, Doggett saw
Mulder pull into the driveway and come into the house,
bursting through the door.
"Sam?!" Mulder sputtered.
The man nodded.
"You know this creep?" demanded Starkweather, not taking
her eyes off the man.
Earlier that evening
Cello Residence
*******************
With a heavy sigh, J. Steven Cello III plopped down his
briefcase in the hallway and slung his coat haphazardly
over an easy chair. The female members of is law firm often
marveled at how a man with Rock Hudsonesque looks, Roman
numerals behind his name, a successful career, and a 1956
red Porsche convertible stayed single as long as he did.
Steve went for the freezer and got out what Ben had called
once the Bachelor's Special, then went to the fridge for a
Heineken, took a long sip and set the microwave for his
frozen dinner.
"Hey, Steve, did you see the news tonight?"
"No, all I pay attention to is how the ball falls, how the
rain falls, how the market falls, and how the gavel falls,
and that I can get online. The news is too goddamn
depressing." Steve grumbled back, taking a cardboardish
mouthful of his unevenly heated chicken.
"Well...turn to channel seven, will ya. It's
depressing...but you sound like you could use a good car
wreck to watch."
"If you're just joining us we're at the site of an
explosion that happened right here behind me. Earlier this
evening this lot behind me had a house in it. Luckily, all
occupants have survived, no one has been hurt, but
questions remain about the origins of the explosions."
"I saw Psycho Boy in a clip earlier and did some quick
checking. Turns out that the house belonged to Ana and
Harry Sedai...his step-sister."
"Well, if that don't put the vodka in the jello shooters."
He whistled.
"You wanna hear something else?" Meg egged on
Steve nodded his head as if she could see him.
"I did some more digging and get this...the little rat has
been cherading as one of our lawyers and according to your
good friend and mine, the DA, said that she got the
impression Leo was just going through a song and dance, and
the DM's bail was set through the roof."
"I can't believe that little shit!" He muttered. "I tell
you what," he offered, "you fax those police reports to me
and I'll do your homework for ya. You take the rest of the
night off."
"I appreciate that, Steve. The police reports are fucking
captivating. They read like some goddamn lawyer novel."
"That's why I love this job, Megaparsec! I'll see ya
tomorrow." He said and hung up. He booted up his computer,
and pushed play on his stereo. "Phantom of the Opera"
blasted through the house as he went to the court TV
website.
Back at the LGM Lair
Sam was hovering over Frohike's shoulder. Byers and Langley
were gone, sent on errands such as gassing up the Lone
Gunmanmobile, filling a prescription for a sedative that
Dr. Starkweather wrote out, buying supplies like bullets,
batteries, beer, pizzas, a hat, a pair of reading glasses,
theatrical makeup and a pair of ladies shorts and a tank
top and to get Ben's motorcycle from the Starkweathers'
garage. Starkweather was sitting by herself in the corner,
cleaning her guns and Doggett's as well.
"Okay, here's the scoop," Frohike said, pointing at
MapQwest on the screen. "Here's where me and the calvary
will be operating. Once you and Freezie Queenie over there-
" Starkweather shot him a dirty look, but Frohike ignored
her "-get Mulder out, we'll roundaview two blocks south of
lockup. You and Starkweather go together but don't take her
piece of shit car and don't take your truck. Hopefully,
we'll have the surveillance equipment so screwed up and you
guys will have the main guard so drugged up, they wouldn't
be able to pin it on you. But you guys gotta move fast.
Once we do our kung-fu on their systems, we've got a window
of twenty-five minutes."
"That's not a lot of time," Starkweather said, extremely
concerned. She had just finished up Doggett's side arm and
had started working on her little Baretta she liked to wear
in her ankle holster. Just then, her cell phone went off.
"Agent Starkweather."
"Starkweather, it's AD Skinner. I'm very concerned for you-
" Starkweather half-expected him to call her "young lady."
"I know sir, and I'm sorry, but can I call you back?
Thanks." She hung up on him before he even gave her his
consent. Best to leave the AD out of the loop as far as
illegal activities go.
June 19, 2002
The Lone Gunmen's Lair
11:00 AM
Six hours away from Mulder's projected death
Everyone started to move around nine-thirty. Starkweather
took over the bathroom first and the "boys" (Sam included)
waiting with impatient feet and full bladders for her to
get out. Finally, Frohike declared, "Dammit, I'm a man. I'm
going to find a bush," and stalked out while Starkweather
finished her shower. She came out, hair wet, wearing the
tight white tank top and cargo shorts that Langley had
bought for her last night. "Little short, Langley," she
grumbled at him as she walked by, showing a little more leg
and thigh than she was used to.
Langly only grinned like an idiot and went about his work
humming "I want a girl with a short skirt and a
lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng jacket."
Starkweather had flashed him a dirty look as she parted her
damp hair and started to plait it into one thick braid. As
she fixed her hair, Sam dove into the bathroom and washed
up, putting on one of Byers' suits. Byers himself had left
to get food. He came out to find Starkweather with a Swiss
Miss hairdo, pushing hairpins into her scalp while Langley
watched in awe. "Dude, she looks like Princess Leia in
'Empire Strikes Back'!"
"Oh shut up," both Starkweather and Frohike snapped.
"Sit down, Doggie," Frohike ordered him gruffly. Sam did
and let Frohike unbutton his shirt.
"Kinky," Starkweather purred as she patted the braids
around her head.
"Careful, Mulder'll get jealous," Langley said as he
started to pack up his gear.
"Stick your head into a bucket of Chlorox," Frohike snarled
as he taped the microphone to Doggett's chest. "Now this is
plastic," Frohike lectured him, "so the sound quality ain't
that great, but you won't be setting off any metal
detectors. So you gotta speak up good and loud, but not too
loud." Sam buttoned up his shirt as Frohike went to get the
earpiece. "This cell phone," he held up a Nokia 5100 model
"is a fake, don't bother trying to call us on it. It's
camouflage for this," He held up an ear piece. "See, the
cord can become detached," He demonstrated then put the
cord back into the earpiece and connected the cord to the
phone, "and it'll still work. Once the clock starts
tickin', if the cord gets ripped away from the phone, don't
worry about. Keep your real cell phone in your shirt pocket
so you don't lose it. Now, you'll be able to talk to both
me and Starkweather," he turned to her now, carrying a
small headphone with only one earpiece that had a small
boom microphone attached.
"Oh goody," she said. "I get to be Garth Brooks."
Frohike carefully slid the headpiece on, positioning it
underneath her braids. He fiddled about with the mike. "How
does that feel?"
"Weird. But I'll live. Does it come with a fake cell phone
too?"
"No ma'am," Frohike said. "Yours is real. You're paired up
with Mulder so if we for some reason we get separated from
you two and out of radio contact, we still have digital
contact." Frohike took her hand and guided it to a small
switch on the headset. "If we start breaking up, flick this
small button "Up" and then hit the number three and the
"Send" button. You'll get us, I promise."
"What if I get separated from Mulder?" Starkweather asked.
Frohike glowered at her. "Your job is NOT to get separated
from Mulder."
"I'm not PLANNING on it!" she snapped.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Sam said. "We're all getting a little
tense. Let's just... take deep breaths. Cool down. We need
to be calm to pull this off." Sam sounded more relaxed than
he felt.... he looked at his watch.... straight up eleven
o'clock. Six hours away from Mulder's predicted doom... "Oh
boy..." he muttered as Byers came back from McDonalds with
enough grease to clog the arteries of everyone in a small
county.
Al, where are you?? he wondered.
He also wondered what Scully had found out last night.
June 19, 2001
3:16pm, Eastern Standard Time
Forty-four minutes away from Mulder's projected death
Sam had been sitting in the rental car, a nice looking Ford
Explorer that blended in nicely with all the other cars in
the busy Washington DC traffic, for hours now. His wait was
nearly over. He looked his (Doggett's) watch. Three-sixteen
on the dot. Sam's swiss cheesed memory tormented him. He
knew that those two numbers had Biblical significance, but
for the life of him, he could not remember what....
"Hey Papa John," Starkweather's voice burst into his
thoughts. "You good to go?" Because of the earpiece, her
voice sounded tinny.
Sam leaned casually on his steering wheel, as if he was
waiting for someone, when actually he was looking across
the street and the Lone Gunmenmobile, which was posing as a
touristy T-shirt vending booth.
"Locked, loaded and ready to go," Sam told her although he
was privately thinking Al! Where the hell are you???
"Are you sure you guys are secure selling shirts?" Sam
asked nervously. The last thing they needed was for his
crew to be busted for selling without a license.
Langly broke in. "It's all good, man, we do this in our
spare time. The shirts are no big deal, Byers likes to tie-
dye stuff, so we buy Rit dyes and white shirts and let
Byers go to town and when the Net is slow or the servers
are down, we hock his shit. We've got a permit and
everything and we even make a coupla bucks off of it."
"Want me to save you a shirt, Doggett?" Starkweather asked
dryly. "They are truly works of art."
"No thank you." Sam assured her as he looked at his watch
again. Three-twenty-six... he felt the fluttering wings of
butterflies doing aerobatics in his stomach. He worried not
only of the very real danger that lay ahead, but of Scully.
What else happened last night? Was she alright? Was she
safe? Did she get to see Mulder?
But he dared not to call her... Time was too precious
now... Sam checked his watch again... Three twenty-seven...
Time was very precious now.
Justin Leo walked down the hallway, comforted by the
dimnessness before the sunrise. He quietly counted the
number of doors before finding Ben and Jeri's apartment. He
jimmied the lock quite easily and let himself in, not
knowing that if he didn't shut the door all that tightly,
the cat liked to pry it open with his paw and sneak out.
Leo cocked his weapon and stole through the living room and
down the hallway. He poked his head into the bedroom, the
office, the bathroom. No Jerilyn. "Dammit," he muttered.
Well, he would just have to wait for her to come back, he
supposed.
He worried about the other errands for Marita Covarrubias
had demanded of him. Getting the serum and the information
to that thing which was once a compassionate human being,
now only a lethal drone that Leo could not even comprehend.
He felt himself start to panic because he didn't know where
Agent Starkweather was. Marita had demanded that
Starkweather be neutralized first: "Agent Starkweather is a
problem we need solved. Now. Tonight." She had said before
handing him the gun and picture of her. It had to be done
right. It had to be completed before dawn. Leo watched the
living room slowly brighten as he clasped the weapon in his
hand, oblivious to the cat sneaking out the door. Leo was
lost in his own thoughts for the photo album was open to
the page Ben had shown Jerilyn when he had first suspected
a connection between her and the Deputy Mayor.
Leo picked up the album for a better look. As he lifted the
heavy book, he noticed a silver antique locket lying on the
coffee table. He picked it up and opened it, looked at the
picture of the woman and child together. After stuffing the
locket in his pocket, he then took the picture out of the
album. Looked at the long dark hair and the catty greeny-
gold eyes and felt bile bubbling up his throat. He didn't
understand. Lilly was blonde with grey eyes. But this
burnette with hazel eyes had her face and her smile and her
body... Leo's eyes were drawn towards the mantle. At a
tastefully framed five by seven photograph of someone's
wedding. Leo got up to examine the two-dimension image of
Benjamin Starkweather in a rented black tux, smiling
broadly for all to see and of Lilly, with her hair now
blond like he remembered and softly curled, clinging to her
groom in a simple white gown and in lieu of a veil, a halo
of creamy pink roses and baby's breath sat onto of her head
like a forest nymph's crown.
The sickness left Leo, replaced by a rage and a hurt that
threatened to over take what was left of his control.
Lilly, alive after all these years. Lilly, disappeared at
the tender age of eighteen to reappear ten years later as
this almost legendary bitter, bitchy fed. Lilly, married to
another man, fucking another man.... Leo's lips pulled
together in a thin tight line, clenching the gun in his
hands. He looked too and hard for Lilly, Benjamin
Starkweather was not going to corrupt her anymore. Leo
already decided that Lilly was not going to die. Not today.
He'd wait for her to come and he'd warn her and take her
away. But the minute that Mulder was at the mercy of the
replicant-slave, Ben too, would breathe his last...
It never even crossed his mind once that Starkweather was
not Lilly, would never be Lilly, but was the key to finding
Lilly. He was what Scully had always privately feared
Mulder would become if she had not been there to keep him
honest. Completely, totally, irrationally obsessed...
Caesar the Cat had succeded in getting out of the apartment
and had decided to take a nap in the doorway of Officer
Sarah Johnson's doorway, who had just gotten home from a
twelve hour overnight shift. Her bleary eyes blinked a few
times when she noticed the cat. "I don't have a cat," she
mumbled as she stooped down to examine the tag. "Oh... it's
you Caesar," she groaned, picked the cat up. "Playing
Houdini again, I see," she crossed down the hall to return
the cat.
She noticed the door was opened, just enough for the sly
feline to slip out. Officer Johnson heard the sound of
weeping coming from inside. Under the circumstances,
normally, she would not have put the cat down and drawn her
gun because she had heard all about sensationalistic way
the unfortunate Mrs. Starkweather become a widow.
**But it was the sound of a MAN crying** Johnson crept up
to the door, tapping on it. "Mrs. Starkweather?" she said
cautiously.
Leo was so beside himself he didn't hear the cop's voice.
The cop slid through the kitchen and peered around the
corner, looking into the living room. She saw the stranger,
sobbing his heart out, his hand on the Starkweathers'
wedding picture, his other hand, clutching a loaded gun.
She swung out of her hiding place, pointing her service
revolver at him. "Drop the weapon, immediately!" she
ordered.
Leo jumped and fired at the cop, hitting her in the
shoulder. Johnson went down, but not before she fired at
him, getting his upper arm.
Leo unwittingly changed history, not by going through the
front door and collapsing for Johnson to nab, like Al had
told Sam what would happen... but instead he staggered
through the apartment, blood staining the carpets forever,
into the Starkweathers' bedroom and out to their balcony
and down the fire escape...
Johnson crawled towards a phone.
The female EMT interrupted Skinner and Scully in mid
conversation. "Ma'am, all vitals are normal. The wound
seems to be superficial. Is there any pain?" When Scully
shook her head, the EMT continued. "Looks like you're set
then. I'll just need you to sign these release forms since
you're acting as your own physician, and you'll be on your
way."
Scully nodded a thank you as Skinner approached.
"Yet another blazer ruined..." She sighed regretfully. "And
I got this one at a really great sale..."
"Scully, care to fill me in? What the hell happened?"
"In my professional opinion?"
Skinner simply nodded.
"I honestly don't know what to think...I know
Marita is connected with all this. I came here with damning
evidence on Mulder's defense attorney who was connected to
this address. She caught me off gaurd, Justin Leo came out
of hiding, and looked like he saw a ghost. He was acting
and looking as though he was on some sort of hallucenogenic
drug. Then Marita ordered him to finish his 'job' and she
shot me, and that's the last I knew."
"Scully, you go home and take care of Will, I'm going to
follow this up."
"Sir," Scully insisted with a sigh, "with all due respect I
can't just take a back seat in all this. I found a
connection between the Syndicate and Agent Starkweather
involving Mulder's father and Starkweather's adoptive
father yesterday, and after what I saw tonight, I think
Leo's involved with this somehow..."
"Scully, I'm not going to allow you to put your life in
danger anymore over this matter." Skinner scolded, "I know
you wanna help Mulder, but we have plenty of manpower right
now to put out a hunt for Leo. Catching Leo is not going to
be an issue." Skinner began slowly.
"Then what is the issue, Sir?" Scully demanded.
"Point blank, Scully, Billy Miles is being sent to kill
him." Her boss said matter-of-factly. "He's being sent to
his cell tomorrow afternoon..." Scully's eyes widened as he
spoke, "that's why he had been in the county jail instead
of the state penetentiary after his trial...that's why..."
he couldn't even finish.
"That's why he was set up?" Scully outraged, "To be baited?
If that's all, Sir, I've got...oh my God...Starkweather..."
"I still don't see how Starkweather fits into this equation
at all, Scully." Skinner persisted.
"Scully," Skinner began, "just make sure all your ducks are
in a row. If Leo gets away...Mulder doesn't stand a chance.
Remember...he's a trained lawyer, he'd take legal loopholes
and make them into your noose."
"You don't have to worry about that, Sir." Just then, she
looked down and saw the trail of blood going out the
balcony. "Sir...I've got to go...I'll call you back when I
know anything." She didn't wait for his goodbye as she
looked down and saw the trail of blood.
"We need a SWAT team out here NOW! Officer possibly down--
Yes, I'm the agent you just sent a team out for--
Poss...possibly down because I know an officer lived--
*lives* here and there is a pool of blood in the living
area and a trail of blood leading out to the bal--" as she
barked orders into the phone, she followed the trail out to
the balcony, as she saw the window ledge painted with dried
blood, and looked down below, she froze. Justin Leo, having
passed out in the bushes momentarily from loss of blood,
was just beginning to weave through the shadows. Detecting
his movement below, Scully changed her plan. "Call ya right
back..." she said, and pocketed her phone. Then, she made a
lightening-quick decision on her easiest way down.
"Mulder, you owe me a new outfit." She mumbled kicking off
her pumps and slipping out of her stockings so she could
scale the drainpipe in hot persuit without a slip, and
sticking her clipper inside her skirt, she got her footing.
High on adrenaline, Leo bolted away from the apartment
complex as soon as he spied a petite form clinging to the
drainpipes, his ambedexterity helped him to aim at the
movement on the pipes who was slowly making her way down.
Since they were both moving targets, Scully only flinched
at the sound of the firing.
"I'mcomingLilynotmuchlongernowbabyI'malmostthereLilyjustg
ottamakeittothecarLily" he half-mumbled, half-growled
incoherently as he sprinted down the sidewalk.
Scully wasn't far behind him. She whinced as the gravel
bore into her feet, but in the moment of the persuit, it
wasn't consequencial.
She pulled her gun out from underneath the elastic in her
belt.
"STOP YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF BEN AND JERILYN
STARKWEATHER YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT ANYTHING
YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW
YOU HAVE THE RIGHT--!" She barked, aiming her gun. When he
got to the apartment-complex parkinglot, she realized where
he was headed. "Oh no you don't..." she mumbled, and
changed direction, going to her own car.
Frantically, she pulled out her cellphone as her engine
revved up, she dialed Doggett's cell. No answer. "Come on,
come on, pick up!" She coaxed as she tore out of the
parkinglot, she dialed Starkweather's cell, carefully
snaking in and out of traffic as fast as she could, gaining
steadily on her target. "Dammit!" she hissed when
Starkweather didn't respond. Thankfully, it was light
traffic, and Leo was leading her to an evidently
residential area by the Patomac River. Racing after Leo,
she then dialed Skinner, "Sir, I'm nearing a neighborhood
called Patomac Court in persuit of Justin Leo, he is armed
and may still be under the influence. We appear to be
stopped at some sort of warehouse. No sir, it's not
marked...I cant' tell you which one," Scully said crouching
under the dash.
"LILY!! LILY!" Leo was screaming, his pistol had clunked
on the gravel, and he was now furiously pounding fists
rattling the sheetmettle, making the warehouse door sound
like falling rain.
Scully took this opportunity to make her arrest. Slowly and
as soundlessly as possible, she opened her door. She
grabbed her gun in the seat next to her and grabbed a set
of hand-cuffs.
"JUSTIN LEO!" She shouted, aiming her gun at the man for
the second time that night, "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE
MURDERS OF BENJAMIN AND JERILYN STARKWEATHER AND AIDING AND
abetting to the pending murder of Deputy Mayor F. William
Mulder," now the cuffs slapped and clicked shut. He was
red-faced and swollen now from hysterics. "You have the
right to remain silent," Which the suspect did, save for
quaking sobs, "anything you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law. You have the right to an
attorney, if you can't affoard an attorney the court will
appoint you one. Do you --"
Scully stopped in mid-sentence, the door had been pounded
open and cries for help from an apparently gagged mouth
could be heard towards the back.
"Who the hell have you got in there?" She demanded her
prisoner. "Jimmy Hoffa?" She cuffed the other end of the
links to her own wrist and led him through the stacks of
boxes back to where the muffled cries were coming from.
There was a locked room in the back, "Stand back, sir!" she
commanded, "I'm going to shoot the door down, we're getting
you out of here!"
With a bang, the lock blew open, and there sat Ben, bound
and gagged in a huddle on the floor. She didn't have the
heart to correct the charges against Leo in front of her
husband and hastily, albeit unmercifully, yanked the duct
tape from his mouth. She then took a peice of glass on the
floor and cut the tape binding his feet, followed by his
hands.
"Agent Scully...I..." Ben began.
"Just get in the car," she said as they headed out the
door. Leo had just been uncuffed and forced into the back
seat when the same black sedan she had seen earlier
screeched to a hault behind her own car, sending dust and
gravell flying.
"Agent Scully," a familiar old voice cracked as a tall
figure emerged from the car, "I wouldn't fire if I were
you. Kill me and you kill Mulder. Kill them all." Two more
goons emerged, both aiming thier own weapons. "I'm the only
one who can stop it." Now it was Scully's turn to surrender
her weapon to the gravel. She heard Ben whince in pain and
then fall limp, and saw them toss him unceremoniously into
the backseat.
"The agent?" one of them asked.
"She will be of use to us later. Without her prisoner, her
proof, or her partner she will comply. Without her husband,
Widow Starkweather will comply to our demands as well. For
now, leave her be." The man commanded softly as he puffed
his cigarette.
Having just gotten his orders from the men who assailed
Ben, Justin Leo knew his task, and tore out of the
parkinglot in Scully's car.
The three men climbed into the sedan, and sped off in the
opposite direction. Needing to hold her son just then, she
dialed her boss's cellphone, knowing he could give her a
lift home.
With quiet heaviness, she barely waited for Skinner to
reply. "Sir, I've lost them..."
"The Gunmen covertly received blood samples from Mulder and
Agent Starkweather that showed a good match. From
everything I've found in the last two days, Starkweather IS
the connection..."
"Scully, I think you need to talk to more adults than the
Gunmen and Mulder." Skinner finished.
"Don't you get it? Sir...Leo's target is Starkweather."
Skinner sighed defeatedly and pulled his cell phone out of
his pocket. "I need an APB out to the residence of Agent
Jerilyn Starkweather. 1121 Spotnitz St, 48 Constitution
Plaza Apartments to apprehend suspect Justin Leo. He is
considered to be armed and dangerous, possibly under the
influence of a hallucinogenic drug, male, 33..."
He wanted to fit more of the case together, he still wanted
to know where the proof was that Starkweather, Leo, and
Mulder were all connected, but while he was busy giving out
an APB, Scully had aparently taken her leave.
"Sir," Skinner nodded in the general direction of his voice
as he climbed into the car, "They came up empty in the
trashcans except a pack of cigarettes and several butts."
"What brand?"
"Morleys." The agent answered quizzically.
"Tell your men to clear out, we've collected all the
evidence necessary." Then he dialed Scully's number.
"Scully," he said not waiting for a greeting, "he's
back...I dunno how but Spender is back and there's a direct
connection this time with her and Marita Covarubias."
"Sir, I'm at the Starkweather's looking for more evidence."
"I know Ben smoked Morleys..." Skinner began.
"No...there's a fresh one in the ashtray that hasn't been
smoked yet. He's leaving us a trail..."
"One question I've got is what use does he have to keep Ben
alive?"
"I think I just found it sir..." Scully said as her eyes
fell on the open scrapbook and Mulder's picture alongside a
freshly smouldered Morley propped on an ashtray.
On the way there, Scully recounted what had happened, and
everything she had found in her investigation. She also
knew that as long as Mulder and Starkweather were both
alive, then Ben Starkweather would still be living.
Although the Syndicate apparently gained the upperhand
during her run-in at the warehouse, what CSM had to say
about Jerilyn still being alive gave her hope.
"Agent Reyes, I can't thank you enough for all your help."
Scully said when she finally made it to her apartment.
"Agent Scully," Reyes replied with a thin smile, "I wish I
could do more than babysit to help you out. Hopefully Agent
Starkweather and I can have a more formal introduction "
"Just call if you need anything." Scully said as Reyes took
her leave.
"Scully," Skinner began cautiously, once they were alone in
her apartment, "I want to help you, Mulder, and Will as
much as my position permits, but I can't do that until you
tell me what's going on."
"Sir," Scully replied a little more harshly than she
intended, "if what you say is true about Billy Miles, then
I don't think the President of the United States can help
us."
"If we get to the men who have Billy Miles under control,"
Skinner argued, "then we can get to Mulder and Starkweather
in time. All I need from you is the information you have on
Justin Leo. If I can track him down, or at least the people
who have him under control, then there is a good chance we
can protect both Mulder and Starkweather."
"Sir, with all due respect...as much as I appreciate your
concern, I doubt seriously that tracking down Leo will lead
to any kind of results except putting you at risk!" She
hissed, careful not to wake Will.
"Scully, if what you say is true about the link between
Mulder and Starkweather, then it is reasonable to assume
that everyone--Will, you, The Gunmen, and me--are at risk
for their exposure to the truth. Besides, in my profession,
I'm at risk every day of my life. All of us in this
business are."
"There's a difference between putting your life on the line
and being stupid. With all due respect sir, I think this
borders a little on the stupid side. I can't let you go out
there with no back-up."
"Scully," Skinner's tone was quiet and firm, "For now,
there's nothing you can do but wait. I made a promise to
both of you a long time ago to do what I could to protect
that division. Don't ask me to break it now. Not after all
we've seen. Now...we can do this the long way or the
shortcut around. Either give me the address, or I will get
it myself through other sources."
With a heavy sigh, she handed him the notes she had taken
on the evidence she had found on the man who instigated the
situation at hand.
"Let me know what you find out as soon as you can."
"Get some sleep, Scully...you look exhausted."
"You forget sir," Scully said with a wan girn, "I got less
sleep before I took maternity leave being Mulder's
partner...Will's less demanding."
"I'll call when I can." Skinner said and turned and left,
determined to get to the bottom of the pending fiasco.
Skinner made his way as quickly as he could to Leo's
address. He doubted the same things Scully had, but at the
same time, he couldn't just sit idly by and let everything
slip out of his hands. Leo's obsessed mindset had not
allowed for simple cautions, such as making sure the door
was locked.
He found the house exactly as it's inhabitant had left it,
with a bullitin board and stacks of files that were all
abduction related. He went thumbed through them and found
annonymous correspondence dating back from two years ago
giving little tasks, such as stopping environmental case
lawsuits from getting to a judge, or hampering with
evidence on fraud charges.
He logged on, guessed the password of an obsessed man easily,
and found his way through his internet history to abductee
chatrooms.
"These days," an old voice cracked out of the darkness,
"You don't need to wish to be a fly in the wall. These
little cameras make everything quite clear."
"You had this residence monitored?" Skinner growled.
"Of course. We had to. It is necessary sometimes to make
sure an associate of ours stays on track, completes his
task."
"Where is Billy Miles?" He fumed.
"That, I don't know. I wanted to employ that killing
machine as protection against the coming invasion. I have
every intention of keeping all those involved alive until
they are of no use. There is another party involved here,
and I'm afraid it is not my decision to make."
"What isn't your decision to make?"
"Whether or not we use the replicant."
"Like hell it isn't." Skinner barked back.
"Assistant Director, you stopped cooperating with us years
ago. I know what happened to Alex Krycek. My associates and
I can easily make things look so much worse than they
actually are. It would be ashame to see such a
distinguished career and a man's freedom go up in flames
over one cause. I am not an unreasonable man. You know that
I am a very powerful friend to have."
"Are you trying to cut me a deal?"
"Precisely. Obviously a monster running amok in the streets
of our Nation's Capitol after a local hero would not bode
well for the FBI. Stop Doggett's investigation into Kersh's
office, and I will hand over the serum that controls the
alien."
"Why the hell should I take credence in any promises or
bargains you make?" Skinner demanded.
"People make bargains with the devil every day, Mr.
Skinner. Either way, your career will be up in smoke once
Agents Doggett and Reyes begin their investigation. You
really have no choice but to comply."
"Where's the serum?"
3:45 PM Eastern Standard Time
County Jail
Sam stepped into the guard's desk, "I have an appointment
to see the warden at four," Sam spoke with a calm he did
not feel.
Frohike was talking in his ear. "You're all good buddy,
Langly's already in the system, Barney Fife there should be
pulling up the fake appointment..."
"Special Agent Frank Black?" the guard asked. Sam nodded
and flased the fake ID Langly whipped up for him.
"Alrighty, have a seat." The guard waved him over to a
chair.
After Sam sat and pretended to peruse his notes,
Starkweather walked in, wearing Byers' baggy dress slacks,
white dress shirt, hanging loosing over her tank top along
with Byers's suit jacket. She carried a big black purse
over her shoulder. She was sipping from a gargantuan mug
from some gas station.
The guard looked up to see the mannishly dressed woman with
the Princess Leia hair-do. "Can I help you?" he asked
wearily. His day was almost over. The night crew would be
there to relieve him in 25 minutes, he couldn't wait. He
did not feel like dealing with this she-man.
"I'm Diana Fowley, from INS," said Starkweather, holding up
her fake ID. "I'm here to see Manuel Diego Ibarra."
The guard checked his computer. "Ibarra don't have any
appointments today."
Starkweather flipped the bitch switch from off to on. "What
do you mean, no appointments?" she seethed. "There was set
up two weeks ago. By the Assistant DA."
"Well... I suppose I could... I mean... it's just that it's
getting close to the inmates suppertimes... if Ibarra don't
eat with the rest, he don't eat at all and inmates get
kinda cranky when they don't get to eat an-"
"You think I care about Ibarra's dietary habits?"
Starkweather snarled as she set the mug down on the desk
with a slam. She dug in her pockets and pulled out a sugar
packet. She put the packet in her mouth and opened the lid
of the mug. Steam from her hot tea came out in wispy
tendrils. "All I care about is getting my questions
answered and then tossing his illegal ass back to El Mexico
where it belongs."
Just as Starkweather made that very uncharacteristic
derogatory remark, Frohike said to Doggett. "We've got you
bumped to twenty-five minutes. It's go time, we're in.
Clock's ticking, Puppy-Man."
Sam got up from his seat, confident in the knowledge that
the Lone Gunmen had control of the jail's survalliance and
security. "Excuse me, miss?"
"WHAT??" she snapped.
"I hate to interupt, but do you have the time?"
Starkweather picked up the mug and threw it's boiling
contents all over the guard. As the guard covered his face
in real pain, Starkweather took the syringe out of her
purse, already loaded with an incredibly powerful drug
called Verstat. "Here's the mickey of all time, buddy-boy,"
Starkweather said while Sam pinned the guard's arms,
Starkweather ripped apart the man's sleeve and jabbed him
with the needle. "Beautiful," she murmurred as she pushed
the plunger.
"Verestat is a lovely, lovely drug. You feel everything,
you see everything, you hear everything, but you will
forget everything." Sam punched the burned man, knocking
him unconscious. Starkweather was already pushing through
the doors. "Alright guys, lets go get Big Brother...
Frohike... FROHIKE!!!" She pushed the ear piece into her
ear better. "You're breaking up. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying get your asses in gear. Billy Miles is in the
building."
"WHAT?!" Sam cried out! Can't anything in this damned
leap go right??? Sam didn't know that when Leo got away
from the police officer, history changed again and Mulder
was killed at four, not five. He checked his watch. 3:52.
Starkweather took her little Beretta out of her ankle
holster and her service weapon out of her pants. "Holy
jumping Aloysious God," she groaned. "Cover me,"
Starkweather pushed through the doors, Sam, both guns out
as well, followed, running down the stairs to the
basements, where they could already hear screams of terror
welling up from below.
The guard felt eyes on his back. He turned around and saw a
lanky man with dark brown hair and brooding eyes. "Hey," he
said, friendly-like, but nonchalantly moving his hands to
his MACE. After all, the guy was unarmed. "Are you lost?
You're not supposed to be here without an-"
A wailing scream echoed throughout the cell block. Mulder
lifted his head up. "Oh damn," he muttered.
Soon, amongst the screams were cries of "Get me the fuck
OUTTA here!!" "It's a monster!! For the love of GOD GET US
OUT!!!" "HEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!"
"What is goin' on out there?" Manny said as he got up from
his bunk and went to the bars just in time to see the
guard's head bouncing along on the floor and land directly
paralell to Manny's feet, his sightless eyes staring up at
him, his speechless tongue lolling.
"GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARR
D!!" Manny hollered, backing away from the bars.
Billy Miles kicked the decapitated head aside like a soccer
ball and stared at Mulder dispassionately.
"Hiya, Billy," Mulder said, not moving, hoping that maybe
there might be a shred of the real Billy Miles left in that
shell of a man. "What's up?"
Billy grabbed a steel bar and started to twist it....