AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to give a special thanx to everyone for being so incredibly patient. Due to schoolwork and a recent death in my family, I haven't been able to write anything, though I *should* be able to write more now. (I'm finally on a break from my schoolwork . . .)

Happy reading, and long live X-Files! LOL . . .

Capt. Janeway ;)

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CHAPTER 4 System #1

Monica sighed as the little song in her dream whirred and clicked to life. It tinkered out its bright song for a few moments, until . . .

No! The dream was different this time, much more specific . . . She found herself standing in a kitchen. John's kitchen, but not John's kitchen. John was sitting at the table, his head in his hands; Dana, wearing a painfully white lab coat, was angrily pacing the length of the kitchen, like a leopard impatient to strike its prey. Three men loomed in a darker corner of the kitchen, and Dana's eyes flicked to them every so often.

A sense of danger flooded over Monica--danger for John. She touched his shoulder, but he didn't feel it.

"John," Monica tried to say, but no sound came out. She pushed her voice as hard as she could, but couldn't squeeze any sound out. Though she was in the room, nobody seemed to be aware of her, somehow. Shivering, she sank down to her knees in a corner not far from him, and watched the prelude to the tragedy.

"You've comprimised the project," Dana snarled. "Do you understand that?!"

John stiffened.

Dana stepped closer, so she was directly across the table from him. "You've put us all at risk. You, me, Will, Mattie, Luke--all of us."

John slowly raised his head to glare at her. "No. That's your fault. They live in fear, thinking their mom's a mad scientist. That's all your doing, not mine."

"Why did you do it?" she persisted, ignoring his answer.

"I had no choice! What was I supposed to do?! Act like nothing was going on?! You were doing something you had no right to do--none! You and," his head made a sharp jerk back to the three men, "you and your so-called 'colleagues' tortured those people, robbed them, and hung 'em out to dry!"

"You're exaggerating the situation."

"No way! You treated those people like animals!"

Dana realized she was losing her grip on him. She'd have to get it back with a softer tactic. With the phoniest expression of kindness Monica had ever seen, Dana reached across the table and gently laid her hand on his.

*Get away!* Monica urged him. *Get away, while you can . . .*

"If you'll give me a chance, I think I could set things right again," Dana offered. "We can leave the country," she said in a lowered voice. "They'd never know. Just trust me, like before."

John searched her eyes for a moment--Monica nearly thought he'd fallen for it. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he slid his hand out from under Dana's hand and violently grabbed her wrist.

"Trust you? *Trust* you?" he said with quiet anger.

"John . . ." Dana said uneasily.

"You lied to me. Why should I trust you?" He strode around the table to Dana, not loosening his grip on her wrist. "The way you *fix* things, you'll lie to me again, and have your goons whack a few more people!"

"Let me go . . ."

"Answer me, first! Why should I trust you?!"

"Let me go! Now!" Dana snapped as she clawed at his grip. Somehow, he managed hold on.

*Get away, John, get away!*

Monica helplessly buried her head in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut just as the gunshot roared through the kitchen.

Silence.

Finally: "What was that for?!" Dana demanded.

"Probable cause," a man, likely one of the three (though Monica dared not look up), answered. "We thought he was going to hurt you."

"I said no bullets! I could've convinced him," she said with slightly injured pride.

"Sorry, Dr. Scully. What's done's done."

"What's done's done," she murmured to herself, as if trying to convince herself of something. She snapped back to business: "Look around; make sure we don't have any witnesses."

Monica, though still unwilling to look up, was aware of another witness, but she knew they wouldn't find him. The other witness was too scared and clever for them.

*Too much like his father might be, had that old tragedy not happened . . .*

The phone rang.

Monica jerked awake, and snatched the phone. She found herself too breathless to speak.

"Agent Reyes?"

It was Gibson Praise.

"Hey, Gibson. Is everything all right?"

"Well, for me, everything 's okay. I don't know about Agent Doggett. Either he's just running late, or something's happened."

"He isn't there?"

"No."

"All right, I'll be there in," Reyes glanced at her digital clock, "twenty minutes."

"Please come soon . . . I don't feel very safe." Gibson admitted.

"Hang in there, Gibson. I'll be there soon."

She gently put the phone back on the receiver, and slipped out of her bed. Despite her efforts to push her dream and the recent news out of her mind, Monica shivered.

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Ooooh . . . Scary? Lame? Whatever your opinion, please let me know in your reviews! Thanx! :)