Note: A brief reference is made to events in "Chuck VS the Alien Colonists"
In the end, five people were able to travel with Jack McCoy.
Claire Kincaid, Emil Skoda, Adam Schiff, John Munch…and me.
Detective Mike Logan sat back as he watched the road, all the traffic go by.
Thing was, he couldn't figure out why they…whoever they were…thought McCoy might know anything on the subject of the murder of Knowle Rohrer.
"Isn't Mount Weather Military Base in Virginia?"
"Yep," Detective Munch seemed to be watching the cars and trucks in the opposite lanes.
"But Jack was here, in Manhattan, working in Central Park. Why are they-"
"Actually, it has nothing to do with Rohrer's death, or who killed him," Munch said. "They want to get all their ducks in a row. McCoy escaped their surveillance when Jeremiah Smith faked his death. They don't want him disappearing on them again, and this is the best way to do it."
Logan rolled his eyes.
"You're almost as bad as Mulder," he groused. "Do you really believe they want to abduct Jack again?"
"They abducted him multiple times, starting in Seventy-three. It's not all that much of a stretch to believe they're not finished with him yet."
Logan sighed, rolling his eyes. As far as the law enforcement community was concerned, Fox Mulder was a disturbing cross between Sherlock Holmes, and Chicken Little.
Now he's facing the Death Penalty for murdering a sergeant in the DoD…
As for Jack McCoy…
"I don't have the energy, or the inclination, to worry about Mulder," Logan lifted his head, looking up at Munch. "He can rot for all I care. It's Jack McCoy I worry about. Jack McCoy. Not Fox Mulder."
"Then, do everything you can to protect Jack McCoy," There was compassion in Munch's eyes, startling in its intensity. "Do everything you can to keep him safe."
…..
Finally, they reached the place where the trial was being held.
Jack McCoy heaved a sigh of relief as he got out of the unmarked Police Mini-van. Almost immediately, the others formed a protective phalanx around him.
Claire Kincaid had taken up position by his side, arm around his shoulder. Adam Schiff and John Munch were just ahead, and Mike Logan and Emil Skoda just behind.
Things proceeded quickly after that. Now, McCoy found himself in the Witness Booth, being sworn in, and facing Special Agent Kallenbrunner, the Special Prosecutor.
It brought memories back, of years past, so crisp and clear…
It hurt, being here in the booth, and not…there, where Kallenbrunner was.
It's gone, Jack. Don't pine for what you can't have…
"Please state your full name for the Tribunal," Kallenbrunner said.
"John James McCoy," he was glad to hear his voice didn't shake.
Yet…
"Do you see the Defendant?"
"Yes," McCoy looked at Fox Mulder, sitting at the Defendant's Dock.
"How well do you know him?"
"Not well. We've only met twice."
"Would you please describe those times?"
McCoy didn't want to. It brought back too many memories of…unpleasant times.
"We first met in Ninety-five," he closed his eyes. "The 27th Precinct was assisting the FBI investigate Albert Koster, a suspect in several killings along the East Coast."
"What was Mulder's belief concerning the killings?"
"Objection," Walter Skinner stood. "Hearsay."
"Stands to motive," Kallenbrunner returned, and McCoy felt something like homesickness, a pang that stabbed right through his heart.
"Objection over-ruled," one of the Judges, a General in full uniform, said. "Please answer the question, Mr. McCoy."
"He believes we are not alone," McCoy shrugged helplessly. It was a belief McCoy shared, now.
Years back, he hadn't, though.
Before his memory-of the abductions-had been returned to him.
Now, he knew the Alien Colonists were real. They existed, and the Consortium had sold their souls for survival in the face of alien invasion.
Men and women collaborated with the aliens; men like George Atkinson.
Grief lanced through McCoy.
George…
He sold me to them…
"Mr. McCoy…" Kallenbrunner's voice pulled him back.
"Where is Albert Koster now?" the Prosecutor asked.
"I think he's dead…" McCoy wiped his eyes. "Suicide?"
He saw Mulder shake his head slightly at that.
What do I know? McCoy thought bitterly. I'm just the Schizo in the room…
"Have you ever met Master Sergeant Knowle Rohrer?"
"Not that I know of," McCoy frowned.
Kallenbrunner handed him a photo. The man, ruggedly attractive, blue eyes, and strong jawline, looked familiar.
McCoy had seem him before. But not as an adult.
A child. My god…
He was there.
At El Rico…
McCoy felt numb, a buzzing sensation filling his head…
Location unknown 1973
The sound of weeping rouses Jack McCoy from a fitful, nightmare-laden sleep, and he sits up on the cot in the dorm that houses the…
McCoy can't really tell if they are prisoners, or patients; and, at this point, he's not sure it really matters.
We're all dead anyway…
The weeping, coming from a small Isolation room just off the Men's' Dorm, sends pure fury through McCoy's limbs.
A child…
They're doing this to children?
He stops just inside the small Isolation Room. Cassandra Spender is there, holding a boy in her arms, and McCoy can hear her sing to the boy as she rocks him gently.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a Mockingbird.
If that Mockingbird don't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring.
McCoy stood there listening, watching Cassandra sing to the boy…Knowle Rohrer… sing him to sleep…
…..
Dr. Emil Skoda had been sitting quietly, keeping careful watch over his patient.
Jack McCoy was clearly stressed, sitting in the Witness Booth. But he was keeping it together remarkable well, all things considered.
Then, Special Prosecutor Kallenbrunner showed him the photograph of Knowle Rohrer.
The photograph slipped from McCoy's fingers.
"Mr. McCoy?" Kallenbrunner spoke. But Jack wasn't there. Not really…
That's it.
Skoda stood.
"You're out of order!" one of the judges snapped.
"Jack's my patient!" Skoda snapped right back as he stepped up to his patient.
McCoy was shaking, trembling like a leaf, muttering softly to himself.
"He was there…with Cassandra. With me. He was…there."
"Where, Jack?"
"El Rico…" McCoy looked up. "They took him too."
"Who?"
"Knowle! He was only a kid. They took him!"
Skoda didn't hear the Judges banging their gavels. All of his attention was on Jack McCoy.
Arms around his patient, he looked up, glaring at the judges.
"Enough!" he said. "Jack McCoy is my patient, and he can't do any more of this."
"But-"Kallenbrunner started to object, but Skoda-pure fury running through his veins-spoke right over him.
He could feel McCoy trembling, hear the muttering, a child…they took children…
"I told everyone that this could provoke a relapse. And here's the proof. You guys want to nail Fox Mulder, find someone else. Leave Jack McCoy out of it."
Fortunately, the Judges agreed.
"Mr. McCoy is released from giving testimony."
"Thank you…" Skoda looked down at his patient.
His friend.
"Let's get you out of here, Jack," he spoke softly, hauling the other man to his feet; the cadre of supporters following…
…..
Everyone gathered in a small room. There was a coffee machine in a corner.
But cheap coffee can be a heaven send sometimes…
Claire Kincaid got a coffee, milk and sugar, brought it to McCoy.
He took a few sips, then put it in the table. He smiled shakily, not really sure what to do with his hands.
So, she took McCoy in her arms, held him tightly; and she felt him relax against her, resting his head on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry…"
"Don't, Jack," she rubbed his back as she spoke. "It's not your fault."
"They're going to take me again…" he was almost whimpering.
"No, they won't," Munch spoke firmly as he put his cell phone away. "We've got friends coming over. We're going to keep you safe, Jack."
"How?" McCoy looked up. "You don't know what they did to me."
"Guys," Kincaid spoke up. "He doesn't need-"
Now, it was Skoda who sighed.
"Claire," he said. "Jack believes he's been abducted by aliens; and I think I can prove that he was."
Mike Logan choked on his coffee.
"You, Emil?"
"One way or another, we can prove things out," Skoda swung his gaze around the room. "But I'll need you to co-operate with me. You still have that knife, Mike?"
"Uh…yeah…" Logan had had to give it up in the trial room, but had gotten it back upon leaving. It helped that he was a Detective of the NYPD.
"What do you want with it?"
"Trust me…" Skoda held out his hand, and Kincaid felt something like alarm crawl up her spine.
Logan handed over the knife, the same knife Skoda had used to cut McCoy loose from the roots of a tree less than a year before.
And Skoda handed it to McCoy.
"Emil!" Adam Schiff stood. "What are you doing? "
…..
"Jack…" McCoy looked up as Skoda spoke. "You remember when you cut your hand on a drinking glass?"
"Yeah, in the Halfway House kitchen."
"Show them."
"Jack…" Claire Kincaid moved to stop him. But McCoy was faster, now that he knew what Skoda was telling him to do.
He slashed his left palm. Deep, then dropped the knife and held his slashed palm up.
"Oh…my god…" Claire had taken hold of his hand, as Schiff and Logan came up.
"Jesus…" Logan spoke softly. "It's…green…"
And, Claire…looking up at him with horrified eyes, then looking down at the slash in his hand, watching the wound bleed green, then slowly heal, fading away to nothing right in front of her eyes.
"I thought Jack was psychotic when he said he had been abducted by aliens, when he said he was a Human/Alien Hybrid," Skoda said. "I was wrong."
"Okay…"Logan was trying to wrap his mind around it all. "But…who…"
"Rumors call them the Syndicate, or the Consortium," John Munch spoke up. "Men who have joined up with the aliens, apparently in an effort to buy some sort of survival."
"George…" McCoy closed his eyes.
"George Atkinson?" pure horror in Adam Schiff's eyes. "He was one of them?"
McCoy nodded, remembering what Atkinson had told him.
After he made me remember what they had done to me…
"They were trying to make hybrids capable of surviving what he called the Alien Holocaust. Cassandra Spender and I...He said we were to be the New Life."
McCoy bowed his head.
"I decided, right then, that I was going to kill myself. But these…I don't know what they were. They looked like men, but with melted faces. They killed George, burned him alive, and they were going to kill me too. But Jeremiah Smith showed up, saved me, and…"
He sighed.
"You know the rest."
There was a knock to the door, and panic jolted through McCoy.
"It's okay, Jack," John Munch went to the door; let three men in.
"The Lone Gunmen," Munch made the introductions. "And they may have the answer to our problem."
"Problem?" Schiff snapped. "You've proven to us that something…unworldly…has been done to my friend. That is considerably more than just a problem."
"Yes," Munch nodded. "And McCoy's being summoned to testify at the trial was just a ploy to bring him out. If we don't do something now, they will take him, and we won't see him ever again. Jeremiah Smith had the right idea. Jack McCoy needs to disappear. Now."
"No!" Claire stood. "What about…"
"Claire," Skoda said. "If he stays, they-whoever they are-will take him again. If they do that, he may face a fate worse than death."
"What could be worse than death, Emil?"
Skoda sighed at Claire's question, looked to Munch.
"Ever heard of Super soldiers?" it was one of the Gunmen, a short, froglike man, who spoke. "They're designed to be un-killable, literally indestructible, flesh-covered robots. Part of the process of creating one of those is that they have to die. Hence, they have no will, no mind of their own."
"But, that's-"Logan shook his head.
Information overload, McCoy decided. Too much for him to process…
Everyone was looking to Adam Schiff now; which made sense.
He's the Great Man…
And he had just seen Jack McCoy bleed green.
Schiff sighed.
"What can these…Gunmen…do to make Jack disappear?"
"Fake IDs," a blond skinny man with long blond hair said. "Funnel cash through interesting places. We're the best at this kind of thing."
"So…" Schiff grunted. "New name, new career, new everything?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful," there was a dry note to Schiff's voice. "But there's this one problem. Jack's been ill, and I don't want him going through all of this alone."
"I can go with him."
Mike Logan's voice startled McCoy.
"Mike?"
Logan shrugged, looking almost shamefaced.
"I…uh…" he shrugged again. "I've been thinking deep thoughts about retiring. Police work hasn't been as satisfying as it used to be, I guess. If Jack's got to disappear, maybe I could too?"
…..
Three days later
It wasn't fair…
Claire Kincaid was back in Manhattan.
Alone.
Again.
Jack McCoy was gone. Claire had no idea where he was, or even who…
At least Mike Logan had gone with him.
Wherever it was that he went…
"Claire?"
Adam Schiff had let himself into her office. He wasn't DA for the District of Manhattan anymore.
But no one in their right mind was going to question his right to be here.
Claire Kincaid felt only gratitude at Schiff's presence.
She heard him sight as he took her into his arms.
"I miss him!" she cried. "I want him back!"
Not possible…
Not fair…
