The Icarus Agent (11/18)

Small hands, snug in their latex gloves, checked the toe-tag
of the body laid out on the autopsy table.

"...And the time is 10:40am. The subject, a male Caucasian,
25 years old. Height six feet, one inch. Weight..." Scully
paused to check the scale reading, "192 pounds. There are no
outward signs of any abrasions or contusions, no visible
scarring, or immediate evidence of any old injuries..." She
moved slowly around the aluminium table, took her time
examining the body's extremities, down to the fingers and
toes.

She adjusted the overhead mic out of her way, selected an
instrument from the tray at her elbow, "Preparing to open the
chest cavity..."

The Coroner looked on through the double-glazing of the
observation window. Unlike most people, she decided she liked
Mulder, and his request had been enough for her to assign the
autopsy to Agent Scully. The preliminary tests had indicated
stroke as the most likely cause of death, and considering the
unusual nature of that in such a young man, her curiosity had
been piqued. So now she watched the gowned Agent complete her
work, her voice thin and tinny through the intercom's
rattling speaker.

"...No thromboembolus of the pulmonary artery..."

No surprises there. This wasn't what she was interested in.
The coroner checked her watch. 11:20am. She stared through
the glass, watched the routine unfold as organs were removed,
weighed and catalogued.

12:10pm. Scully adjusted her plastic goggles, leant closer to
inspect the top of the victims head. Her hand ran through the
closely-cropped hair, studying the scalp. She paused, finding
a tiny scar, evidence of a previous injury she suspected. But
then she found another ... and then another. By the time the
examination was completed, she had discovered no less than
eight separate and similar scars patterned across the skull.

Scully straightened, a frown forming. She'd seen that pattern
before, on McKenna Douglas' X-Rays. She thumbed through the
pile of reports nearby on the table, tugged the X-Rays from
the envelope, walked over to the nearby X-Ray lamp and slid
one in. She stared. The same pattern of markings and holes.
Just like Douglas.

"What is it?"

Scully jumped at the voice over the intercom. She'd become so
absorbed in her work, she'd totally forgotten she had an
audience. "Old scarring ... suggests perhaps a previous head
injury..." she answered slowly, "Might have some significance
if stroke is found to be the ultimate cause of death..."

The coroner spoke, words of agreement, but Scully's mind was
elsewhere. It was on the strange calls she had received from
Mulder the previous evening, and the disturbing profile she
was beginning to piece together on his temporary partner. Her
gut told her one thing. Mulder was in trouble.

She snapped off her gloves, pulled her cell phone from her
pocket and dialed his number. No answer.

McKenna didn't remember the drive to Dulles or boarding the
727. He was too busy keeping his mind from imagining what
waited for him at the other end.

Mulder remained mercifully silent all through the flight to
Kansas, leaving Mac to stare out the window, think about
Leona, and possibilities he had never dared face. It wasn't
until they stood in the outer offices of the County Morgue
that Mac began to shake. The detective on the case handed
them plastic ID badges to clip on and motioned for them to
follow.

It took Mulder's almost cruel grip on his upper arm to propel
Mac into the brightly lit, antiseptic smelling room. It was
cold. Too cold. Leona liked warmth, they'd laughingly
discussed trying to get assigned to Hawaii...

A metal table held a sheet covered body. Mulder strengthened
his grip on Mac's arm and nodded to the attendant. The sheet
was pulled back to the body's waist.

Mac stared at the corpse, mind staggering through the
motions. Female, about 5'3"-5'5", longish brown hair, shot
several times at close range, once in the face. Her hands
were missing, along with one breast. She'd been in the water
a while. Mac's stomach heaved as he tried to reconcile this
... thing with the mental image of his partner. It wouldn't
mesh.

"Well?" The detective was impatient. "Is it your missing
agent?

Mac shook off Mulder's hand and went around the table. He
pulled the sheet back to reveal her right hip, it was intact,
flesh smooth and unmarked, with no trace of the delicate rose
tattoo he remembered so well.

He dropped the sheet and spread it gently up over the body,
careful to cover the missing face. It took him two tries to
get the words out through the clog in his throat. "It's not
her."

Mac walked out of the room and down the hall to a men's room
they'd passed on the way, slipped inside and sank to the
floor, wrapped his arms around his knees. He sobbed
uncontrollably, repeated numbly, "It's not her, it's not her
... Oh, God .... Thank you...."

When his gasping quit, he wasn't surprised to find Mulder
handing him a stack of soggy paper towels to wipe his tear
streaked cheeks and runny nose. Mac went to the sink and
liberally splashed cold water on his face then dried it off.

Mulder slouched against the wall. "I saw what happened in
there, Douglas. You'd need very intimate knowledge of someone
to look where you did for identification. She wasn't just
your partner, was she?"

Mac leaned on the sink and stared down into the white basin.
"Does that make any difference?"

"It makes a big difference, Douglas. To you ... to how people
see you..."

Mac scoffed, "People made their minds up long ago. When it
finally came out ... about our relationship ... it only made
people more convinced I was some psychopath who murdered his
partner and got away with it. Lover's quarrel..." He shook
his head, stared bleakly the gleaming white tiles between his
feet. "How can they just ignore this? What happened to her
... what happened to me? What the hell did happen to me? I
don't understand any of this..."

"We don't need to go back to DC tonight..." Mulder took a
deep breath, his face mirrored the pain of the man opposite
him, "Why don't we go for a drive ... have a look around?
It's a long shot ... but something might jog your memory."

Douglas stayed silent a long while in consideration. Finally
he looked up at Mulder, voice flat. "I can't ... I can't do
this again. God, I can't do this anymore."

Mulder frowned. "Yes, you can, damn it! That wasn't her in
there. You still have your hope." He plucked the car keys out
of his pocket, jangled them as enticement. "Come on. We're
going for a ride."

"Mulder, I..."

"Just get your ass outside and into the damn car, Stanford.
Now."

Mac stared back at Mulder a moment, then brushed the dirt
from his coat and straightened his tie, checked his weapon
was secure. He pulled out the dark sunglasses and slipped
them on to cover his swollen eyes. "Let's go," he said
softly.



Mulder followed Douglas to the parking lot in silence, waited
until the other man got in the car before speaking again.
"We're going to go over that entire day Agent Ayers turned up
missing. From the first thing you thought of in the morning
until the moment you found out she was missing."

Douglas nodded tiredly. "Okay. Let's do it."

Mulder started the car and drove to the Best Western Hotel
where Douglas and Ayers had stayed the day she disappeared.
He parked in the lot, killed the ignition and turned to the
other agent again. "From the beginning, Douglas. I want you
to think. I know you can remember. You don't forget, you just
reclassify things. I'm going to help you remember." Mulder
checked to see if he had Douglas' full attention. He did.
"Hypnosis didn't work on you, because you didn't believe it
would. You were afraid of revealing anything of yourself to
the psychologist who did it. I know you're not afraid of me.
I know you and Agent Ayers were lovers. So there's nothing
for you to hide anymore." Mulder kept looking into the cloudy
green eyes. "I don't want to hypnotize you. I just want you
to remember. So start with that morning. Tell me what
happened."

Douglas took a deep breath, then another.

"Close your eyes and picture it, Stanford. You know the
drill, you had the same classes I did. Think like a
psychologist, not a patient."

Douglas nodded, closed his eyes, and began to speak. "I woke
up early that morning, I always do. Around five-thirty or so.
Leona was still asleep. I worked out then went for a run. I
only did a couple miles. When I got back I showered and
dressed, worked on summarizing what happened so far in the
case, saved it on my laptop." He paused and concentrated.
"About a quarter to seven I woke Leona up. She told me she
didn't feel well. I figured she'd caught the flu. It had been
going around the Denver office, one of the secretaries was
hospitalized because of it."

"I heard about that epidemic," Mulder commented. "So what
happened after you woke Leona up?"

"I told her to stay in bed. We were at a standstill in the
case. I put feelers out toward getting some information from
an informant, but nothing had come back yet. I got Leona some
tea from the restaurant next to the hotel. She decided I
should go fill the car with gas, said it would give her time
to feel better and get dressed."

"Okay," Mulder said. "So where did you go. Show me."

Douglas opened his eyes and looked around, he pointed up the
street to a convenience store. "That Stop and Gas up there."

"So you filled the car and came straight back?"

"Yes-no. No, I filled the car, while I was paying my cel
phone rang." Douglas looked at Mulder. "I didn't remember
that when they were questioning me. Then again ... nobody
asked."

"That's okay. Go on. Who was it?"

He closed his eyes, "Um ... It was Agent Sutton..."

"Sutton?"

"Yeah, Gerald Sutton. He works in the Denver Bureau, Director
Brown's right hand man..." Douglas frowned slightly.

"What did he want?"

"He said he was checking up on me. I didn't think anything of
it. That's one of his jobs, to check on the agents on
probation."

"Was he in town or in Denver, McKenna?"

Douglas frowned again. "I don't know. I assumed he was in
Denver. But..."

"But what?"

"But he said 'I'm here to check up on you'. That must have
meant he was in Topeka..." Douglas looked over at Mulder.

Mulder grinned. "Good reasoning, Sherlock. There's hope for
you yet."

Douglas gave a small smile.

"What else did he say?"

"Uh..." Douglas closed his eyes.

"Did he ask about Agent Ayers? Did he ask about the case?"

"No. He asked me if I was following regulation ... and
Brown's policy!" Douglas' eyes snapped open.

"Policy?"

"Yeah, We had a lot of VCU people getting hurt or shot last
year ... so Brown said we had to wear our body armor anytime
we were out in the field, away from the office."

Mulder felt his breath quicken. "I see. Did Sutton ask if you
were wearing it?"

"Yes. He did..."

"Were you?"

"Uh, no...I told him I hadn't put it on yet. He reamed me
out, told me to put it on immediately and call him back. So I
did."

"Where?"

"In the parking lot of the Stop and Gas. I got it out of the
trunk and got in the car and put it on. Then I called him
back ... it was a local number! You were right. He was here.
Checking up on me."

"See, Stanford. Told you we'd get somewhere." Mulder looked
up the street at the convenience store. "What did you do
after you put the body armor on? "

"I drove over to that fast food place and got Leona some
breakfast and coffee..."

"What did you get her?"

Douglas closed his eyes again. "A bagel, I think. Coffee,
black. Then I came back to the room." He turned and looked at
the low lying hotel.

"Room 145. Then what?"

"Then ... I got another call."

"Was Agent Ayers dressed when you got back?"

"Yes ... She was ready for work. She looked better. She'd
even done some work on her laptop. It was open, she closed it
when I came in."

"Good. Who called?"

"One of the informants I'd been working on. He wanted a
meeting. Said he had information to give me, things that
would help our case." Douglas looked at Mulder. "He wanted to
meet me in a warehouse. Leona said we go together or not at
all..."

Mulder nodded, "Good woman. Where was this meeting to take
place?"

Douglas looked miserable. "I don't remember. The most
important clue and I can't remember."

"Relax, Stanford. We'll figure it out." Mulder drummed his
fingers on the wheel. "You know Topeka well? Been here before
that case?"

"No. That was my first time."

"So you probably had to look on a map for the address."

"Yeah...We would have."

"Where'd you get the map, McKenna? Bring it with you or buy
it here?"

"I-I think we bought it here."

Mulder nodded again, and started the car. "Let's check that
theory out." He drove over to the convenience store and
parked near the doors. They got out. "Wait here."

Mulder walked in and smiled at the young woman behind the
counter. "Excuse me, Miss..." He squinted at the nametag,
"Shawna?"

She looked up from counting change and said, "You're back..."
then peered at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"You thought I was him?" Mulder pointed out the window to
where Douglas waited, lounged against the side of the car,
overcoat fastened tight against the chill and snow flurries.
He stared into the store, eyes glued on Mulder.

Shawna looked carefully. "Yes. But I can see now you're a lot
older."

"Ah, yes." Mulder grimaced slightly. He showed her his badge.
"Agent Mulder, FBI. That's Agent Douglas out there."

"He was an FBI agent?" Her voice went up an octave.
"Awesome!"

Mulder kept the neutral expression on his face. "You remember
that man?"

"Oh yes, he's hard to forget." She smiled. An infatuated
smile. "Came in everyday for a week. Always had something
nice to say ... He called me ma'am." She giggled again.

"Did he ever buy a map of Topeka?"

"Sure, his first day."

Mulder waited while a man wearing overalls paid for gas and a
bag of chips. "He ever come in with a woman? Small, with long
reddish brown hair?"

Shawna shook her head. "I saw her in the car a lot, but she
never came in, she didn't have to, he waited on her hand and
foot."

"What do you mean?"

"He opened her car door, bought her candy, even one of these
roses here," she pointed to the display near the cash
register, a chilled bin filled with single long stemmed roses
wrapped in plastic, "Just my luck, all the cute ones are
married. Oh, I know he wasn't wearing a ring or nothing, but
he had married written all over him." She rang up a woman
towing three kids who scattered nickel candy all over the
counter.

"How do you figure that?"

Shawna giggled, "They were arguing over the map. I watched
them. He finally came in and asked me for directions. His
face was all red like, and I know he only asked because she
made him. If he wasn't married he wouldn't have done it."

"When was this, do you remember?"

"Tuesday for sure ... a couple weeks before Christmas. I
didn't see him again after the map thing."

"Was it early morning? After lunch like now? Evening?"

"Had to be earlier, I only work until three. Morning I'd say,
we hadn't gotten our new pop shipment yet."

"Do you remember where he was asking directions to?"

"Yes, because I wasn't sure either until I took a look at the
map. Hatcher Street. It's over by the railroad tracks, off of
I70?"

Mulder took the map out of his coat pocket. "Show me."

Shawna traced a route to a street broken up by railroad
tracks and the interstate. "It's right there."

"Thank you, Shawna, you've been a big help." Mulder gave her
a smile and folded the map.

"Nice to feel useful my first day back," she said with a
laugh.

"First day back?"

"Yes, I was fired the day after I last saw your friend," she
nodded at Mac, "then the other day they called me up and
offered me my job back. With a raise. Weird. It was like,
unreal, you know?"

"Totally," Mulder said, straight-faced. "Glad you were here
then. Thanks for the help." He gave her a last smile and
walked out, frowning in thought. Douglas straightened as he
approached the car, green eyes anxious.

"You find anything out? Why couldn't I go in there with you?"

Mulder stopped in front of him. He felt compelled to put his
hand on the younger man's shoulder. "McKenna, remember what
happened with Weiss? I don't want to take the chance of that
happening again. This is too important. Understand?" He
waited until Douglas nodded. "Good. You were in here the day
Leona disappeared. Twice. Once for gas and later to ask
directions. To Hatcher Street. Ring any bells?"

Douglas shook his head and looked disgusted with himself.
"No. None."

Mulder squeezed Douglas' shoulder and let his hand drop. "You
can remember things, Stanford. Just push yourself..."

Douglas looked startled, then nodded slowly. "Good idea..."

They drove to Hatcher Street. Mulder started at one end and
cruised slowly. "Anything look familiar?"

"No ... not yet..." After they crossed the tracks and went a
few blocks Douglas yelped. "Stop! That's it, I'm sure of it."

Mulder pulled up in front of Bill's Transmission Service and
stared across the street. Krassner's Diesel Repair and
Storage. It looked deserted. "Stay here-"

"No! I'm coming with you." Douglas insisted.

Mulder took one look at his set face and sighed. "Okay. But
first tell me what you remember." He watched the other agent
struggle, eyes closed and lips moving silently.

Douglas' eyes flew open. "We were here. Me and Leona."

Mulder said, "Is this where you met the informant?"

"Yes."

"How did you play it?"


"We parked right here pretty much ... Leona took the back.
She said if the bloke tried to scarper out the front, I could
catch him easier ... I gave her time to get into position."
He frowned.

"What?"

"Leona must have called for backup when I was getting
directions. Agent Hughs met me when I crossed the street.
He's Sutton's partner..."

"What did he say?"

Again, Douglas' lips moved silently. After a minute he said,
"He was checking to see if I had my body armor on, if I was
following proper procedures. He said it was our show, he'd
just back us up, and I needed to get in the warehouse quick."
Douglas looked down. "Leona didn't have her body armor on. In
the excitement of the call from the informant I forgot to
remind her..."

"It's okay, Stanford. She was the senior. She should have
reminded you. Keep going."

"I uh, pulled up my shirt and showed him I was wearing my
stupid armor. Then I headed for the doors. He got a call.
Told me to hurry before the informant left ... then I went
inside..." Douglas fell silent.

"What else? What happened?"

"I don't remember."

Mulder studied his face a moment, then said, "Okay, lets go
in." He got out and waited for Douglas, walked by the younger
man's side. "Don't sweat it. It'll come to you."

They tried the front door. It was locked, and knocking
produced nobody. Mulder headed around back, Douglas at his
heels. Mulder tried the loading dock door. It was also
locked. He pushed at it. It gave slightly. He glanced at the
younger agent. "You realize in these--" Mulder slammed his
shoulder into the door, "Situations where you have no
warrant--" He slammed into it again, the hinges creaked
ominously. "That you shouldn't enter the building--" One last
hit with his shoulder and the door popped open. "Unless the
door is open of course..." Mulder rubbed his shoulder. "Then
it's our obligation as law enforcement officials to make sure
everything is secure. Come on." He walked in and glanced
around, Douglas followed slowly. Mulder headed for the repair
bays, skirting the edge of the warehouse area. It was empty
and smelled of grease and diesel fuel. In the center of the
room he stopped. "Anything?"

Douglas followed him out. "No." He walked a few steps
further, then turned around and faced the way they'd come.
"Oh my God..."

"What?"

"I was in here. I remember being in here. Walking towards the
back."

"What else? Think, Stanford."

"I'm trying, damn it! I can't remember anything else. Just
... Leona screaming ...oh God..." Douglas covered his face
with his hands.

Swiftly Mulder moved to his side, shook his arm. "Don't you
dare give up on me now, Stanford. Think. What happened."

Douglas looked up, eyes shiny. "I...don't...know!"

Mulder blew out his breath. "Okay. Okay, we start searching."

"For what?"

"Clues, Stanford. Didn't you learn anything at the Academy
besides breaking and entering computer systems?"

Douglas shrugged. "I knew that *before* I went to the
Academy, Mulder..."

"So Frohike tells me. Start looking." Mulder circled the area
they stood in, eyes on the floor. "Concrete floor, it's been
washed recently. But the rest of the place is covered in
dust. Why is that, Stanford?"

"Somebody wanted to get rid of something." Douglas stood in
the same place, watching Mulder.

"What do you get rid of by washing, Stanford?"

"Liquids, usually. Dirt, dust, powders-"

"Blood?"

Douglas swallowed. "Blood."

Mulder knelt by the drain grate. He grunted and lifted the
two by four foot piece of metal off the shallow ditch running
down the center of the bay. He fished around and came up with
a small scrap of rag, and an old invoice, stained russet. He
tossed it on the floor and dug around again, came up with the
rest of the scrap. It was stained a bright shade of crimson.
Mulder placed it by the first. "What do you make of that,
Douglas?"

Douglas came and crouched by Mulder, studied the rags. He
pointed to the first one. "This looks like old, dried
bloodstains. The other one looks fresh ... but it's as dried
out as the first one. They probably got washed into the grate
at the same time..."

"Not bad, Stanford." Mulder picked up the first rag and
sniffed it, then picked up the second and did the same. He
passed them over to Douglas. "Smell them."

Douglas copied Mulder's moves, then looked puzzled. "The
first one smells coppery ... like dried blood."

"And the other."

"I don't know what it smells like ... chemicals maybe."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully and dragged a couple of plastic
bags out of his coat, then carefully placed the scraps inside
and sealed them up. He tucked the bags in his coat pocket.
"I'm sure a forensic scientist could tell us for sure,
Douglas." He stood. "So, if we washed away the blood ...
where else would we dispose of things? If we were in a hurry
that is?"

Douglas frowned. "The trash?"

Mulder walked over to the small dumpster on wheels set just
inside the back door. "Ordinarily, we'd assume the trash gets
picked up twice a week..." He flipped up the big plastic lid.
"Unless, of course, the warehouse is empty ... then it
doesn't get picked up at all. If we're lucky..." Mulder
shrugged off his overcoat and jacket, handed them to Douglas.
"You owe me for this, Douglas. Big time." Mulder put his
hands on the edge of the dumpster and heaved himself up.

Douglas watched in fascination. "What are you looking for,
Mulder?"

"I'll know it when I see it..." Mulder rummaged through the
rags and papers and old food wrappers. He began tossing
everything he wasn't interested in over the side to the
floor. A large pile accumulated before he let lose with a
soft, "Aha..."

"What?" Douglas edged close and peered into the bin. Mulder
popped up and climbed out, shaking the remnants of trash from
his clothes, and brushing himself off. "Scully won't believe
I did that..."

"What, what did you find?"

Mulder held out his hand. A crimson stained handkerchief lay
on it. He unfolded it to reveal a small syringe.

"That's it?" Douglas stared at him. "Christ, Mulder, a junkie
could have left that here...

Mulder put his suit jacket back on, then donned his overcoat.
He took a plastic bag out of the pocket, dropped the syringe
and handkerchief into it. "Yeah, a junkie could have..." He
pulled the bag out with the crimson colored rag from the
drain in it, held the two up side by side. "Then again..."

Douglas studied the colors of the two cloths and nodded. "So
we leave this for forensics to decide?"

Mulder grinned. "You got it, Douglas."

"What now?"

Mulder headed for the back door, let Douglas out ahead of him
and propped the door back in place. "I don't think we're
going to find any other clues in there, Douglas. Let's go to
the hospital. There's a few things there I'd like to check
out."

END PART 11/18



The Icarus Agent (12/18)

Douglas was silent on the drive to the hospital. Mulder
didn't notice, busy turning over what they had just learned
in his mind. He pulled into a parking space near the
Emergency Room and turned to the other agent. "Wait here-"

"No. I'm coming with you."

"Look, Douglas..." Mulder said, "I just don't want you losing
it in there, okay? You're on edge. Christ, even your hands
are shaking. Let me handle it."

Douglas stared at Mulder a long moment. "You're taking me
with you, Fox. I'm going inside with you."

Mulder blinked. "Let's go." He got out of the car and glanced
over to the younger man, frowned, and headed inside, Douglas
on his heels. Douglas tucked his hands in his overcoat
pockets and stood by Mulder. He made no attempt to talk, just
looked around nervously.

An older woman who served as a receptionist pointed them in
the direction of the Records Office after Mulder held up his
badge and identified himself. They followed the colored
stripes on the floor to the Administration wing. Mulder
smiled at the suspicious clerk and showed his badge. "Special
Agent Mulder, FBI. I need to see some admission records from
last month-"

"Sorry, I can't give them to you."

Mulder looked at her in surprise. "Ma'am, I'm working on a
kidnapping investigation and-"

"Sorry." The woman went back to the file in front of her,
slight smirk of triumph on her sour face.

Douglas, tugged on Mulder's sleeve, pulled him aside. "Let
me." He stepped to the window and waited until the woman
looked up. "I need to see some admission records. Please get
them for me. Now."

The woman nodded, eyes wide.

"For the date of December tenth, last year. McKenna Douglas."

The woman turned to her computer terminal and typed in a
code, then scrolled down. "No McKenna Douglas listed for that
date."

Mulder muttered under his breath. "Shit..."

Douglas nodded. "Try 'Douglas McKenna'. Look for his records
on December tenth." He waited until the woman nodded.

"Here it is," She chirped cheerily. "Douglas McKenna,
admitted to the ER at 12:25pm..."

"We need to see the file, get it for us please. And a print-
out."

"Certainly Sir, one moment." She spun in her chair and
lumbered off to the wall of color coded files in the back. A
minute later she returned with a manila folder in her hand.
"Here you go. Have a nice day."

"Thank you," Douglas said, taking it from her, "You can go
back to what you were doing now."

Mulder took Douglas' elbow and led him down the hall to a
plasticized waiting area. "Is it my after shave?"

The younger agent looked at him.

Mulder sighed. "You want to tell me how you do that,
Douglas?" He dropped his hand.

"Do what?"

"Get people to do what you want. Push them..." Mulder frowned
to himself, suddenly remembering, "Like you did with
Skinner."

Douglas sighed. "I don't know. I just ask ... and they do
it." He looked at Mulder, guileless green eyes wide.

It was Mulder's turn to stare. "Either you really don't know
... or you're not going to tell me."

"I don't know, Mulder, honest. I just do it. It's getting
easier now..." Douglas looked down. "Leona was the one who
really opened my eyes to what I could do. She had no idea why
I can do it either." He looked up and shrugged. "Came in
handy in interrogations..."

"I'll bet," Mulder replied. He eyed the other man, "You made
them confess? Whether they did it or not?"

Douglas shook his head quickly, "No! Not like that. I made
them tell the truth. That's all."

"You're telling me people can't lie to you?"

"Not if I stop them."

The possibilities suddenly seemed endless to Mulder. He
envisioned marching Douglas up to that black-lunged son of a
bitch and ... "Can you make people do things they don't
*want* to do? Hurt themselves?"

Douglas scowled in disgust, "What kind of monster do you
think I am? I don't know and I don't plan on finding out. I'd
never do that."

"Sorry..." Mulder frowned. "I don't get it. With all this ...
you still didn't find out what happened to Agent Ayers?"

"I trusted them, Mulder. I *believed* in them. If there had
been suspects ... I would have done anything I could." he
sighed, "I never expected I would need to drag the truth out
of the FBI."

The irony wasn't lost on Mulder. He indicated for Douglas to
sit down. "Let's see the file."

Douglas dropped into a thinly padded chair and opened the
file on the tiny table. Mulder sat on the other side.

"Okay, Stanford, memory time. Who brought you in?" Mulder
watched as Douglas closed his eyes a few minutes, lips moving
silently.

"Agent Hughs..."

"You said Hughs was Sutton's partner? And that they were here
in Topeka checking up on you?"

Douglas nodded. "Hughs came to my hotel room when I called in
and said Leona was missing ... the Bureau must have called
Sutton and told him the deal." Douglas frowned heavily.

"What? What do you remember?"

A blush started on Douglas' cheeks. "Hughs came to the hotel
and got me. I was in one of the hotel rooms. Mine."

"So?"

"Uh, Leona and I might have taken two rooms ... but we only
used one."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Because you were sleeping
together?"

The red tinged darker. "Yeah. There wasn't anything in the
other room. All my gear was in Leona's. Except my clothes. I
showered in the other room, quicker."

"Undoubtedly," Mulder commented. He hid his amusement at
Douglas' flustered expression. "So why couldn't you have been
there taking a nap or something?"

"I wasn't, Mulder. Trust me. I woke up in civvies ... in the
other hotel room."

"And?"

"And I generally get up early, run, shower and put on my suit
for the day. No way would I still be in civvies at 12:00 in
the afternoon. I've never slept that late in my life."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "That's interesting ... Did
Sutton or Hughs know you were ... involved with Agent Ayers?
Sleeping with her?"

Douglas shook his head. "No. Nobody at the office knew. They
speculated of course, but we were very discreet. The only
person we even told about our relationship was Deputy
Director Brown."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "Really. You said Sutton was his
right hand man-"

"Brown wouldn't have said anything. Not to anyone." Douglas
scowled. "Brown told us to be careful is all, people get
jealous ... but he never condemned or ridiculed our
relationship. Never."

Loyalty to his superior. A side of Douglas Mulder hadn't seen
yet. Commendable ... but naive. Stanford hadn't learned, even
yet, after all that had happened, not to trust anyone.

"Okay. Let's take a look at this record." Mulder flipped it
open and read through it. Douglas leaned over.

"What's it say?"

"It says you were brought in ... Hughs thought you had been
poisoned maybe."

"What?"

Mulder shrugged. "Pupils dilated, slow response time, labored
breathing. Doctor on call thought narcotics, ordered a Tox
Screen. Interesting thing, Agent Hughs told the doctor you
were working on a case and when he went to talk to you, you
answered the door in this condition..."

"I don't remember that, Mulder. Just that Hughs wanted me to
go to the hospital. The rest is a blur."

Mulder read further, frowned. "Says here you were released at
9:00pm, with no further symptoms of drug poisoning." he
flipped the page over and scanned it. "Do you remember this?
'Patient had numerous circular contusions on his chest and
back, they appeared to be more than 24 hours old. Also noted
was a small puncture mark on the left hip, with a high degree
of bruising around the site. Patient does not recall the
origin of any of the contusions noted.'" Mulder looked up.
"What do you make of that, Douglas?"

Douglas closed his eyes a minute, then shrugged helplessly
and opened them. "I don't remember."

"Conjecture?"

"Uh, I hit something. Or something hit me?"

Mulder nodded, satisfied, and stuck the report inside his
overcoat after checking on the name of the doctor in ER who'd
treated Douglas. "Come on. Let's talk to the doc."

Again Douglas trailed him down the hall as they retraced
their steps to the Emergency Room. Mulder approached the
receptionist. "Can you tell me if Doctor Hallger is working
today?"

"Doctor Hallger? Goodness, he worked all day yesterday. I
believe he went home this morning. His first day back and
he's already pulling long shifts, but with the state of the
emergency room these-"

"First day back?" Mulder asked.

"Why yes. He'd been fired. Turned out to be some kind of
mistake."

"Tell me, was he fired about four, five weeks ago? Before
Christmas?"

"Why yes..."

"And just rehired recently?"

"A few days ago..."

"Thank you, ma'am, you've been a big help." Mulder dragged a
resistant McKenna Douglas towards the exit doors."

"But-"

"Save it. I'll explain in a bit." Mulder got them to the car
and pulled out his cel phone. He dialed a number and
immediately got put on hold. "Hope you packed your jammies,
Stanford. We're going to make a little side trip." Mulder
looked across the car at the confused young agent. "I think
it's time I met your buddies in the Denver Bureau. And you
asked some questions."



Douglas promptly fell asleep once they boarded the plane to
Denver, leaving Mulder free to study him openly. Lines of
exhaustion tugged at the younger man's mouth, dark smudges
rubbed under his eyes. The gauze and tape that covered the
cut on his head had been replaced by a small flesh colored
bandage, barely discernible under the hank of chocolate brown
hair that fell over the young man's forehead. <Let's play,
Fox, I want to play too...>

Samantha's tones tore at his subconscious. A neighborhood
ball game, a childish voice dogging him from behind. <Where
we goin', Fox? Can I come with you? Can I Fox? Huh?> Mulder
closed his eyes, but instead of seeing his sister, he saw a
very juvenile McKenna Douglas, jeans torn at the knee, ball
cap turned around backwards on his head, expression one of
sibling worry and seven-year-old bravado. <Can I come too,
Fox? Can I?...>

Disturbed, Mulder opened his eyes and stared at the seat
ahead of him, tried to organize his thoughts. First he had to
call Scully. See what she came up with. Then he had to figure
out how to get the information he wanted out of Douglas' so-
called colleagues. This whole deal stunk to high heaven. Not
to mention the elusive Leona Ayers. So far he had more
questions than answers about her. He very much wanted to know
how she fit in to everything. Other than being the victim of
a very sadistic hoax.

Mulder didn't shake Douglas awake until the flight was on
final approach to DIA. The lights of Denver glittered before
them, darkness hid the mountain peaks. Mulder waited for the
disorientation to clear from Douglas' face before outlining
his plan.

"I don't know about you, hotshot, but it's 9:30 at night, I'm
tired and hungry. There isn't anything we can do until
tomorrow, so what do you say we grab some food and a motel
room and I'll make a few calls. Give us a jump on tomorrow."

Douglas looked at him steadily. The plane touched down with a
bounce and began the long taxi to the terminal. "We can stay
at ... my place. Me and Leona's..."

Mulder studied him. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea,
Douglas."

"I'm okay. Really. I'd like to see it again."

After a long moment, Mulder nodded and stood to join the
throng in the aisle. "We'll see. I'll grab us a car. You get
us some coffee. I think we both could use it."

As it was, Mulder drove a few miles from the airport, found a
motel off of I70 and pulled in. "We can swing by your place
tomorrow, if you still want to. It's dark, it's snowing, I'm
tired and you look beat. Let's get some rest. Okay?"

Douglas nodded. "Yeah. I just wanted to check on Leona's cat
... a neighbor is taking care of him."

"First thing in the morning," Mulder promised. "You hungry?"

Douglas shook his head, obviously wallowing in some private
misery.

Mulder registered them, and handed Douglas a key. "I'll be in
the room next door if you need anything. Sure you're not
hungry?" Douglas' depressed demeanor worried him.

"No. Just tired. Think I'll turn in."

After studying the other man a bit, Mulder nodded. "We'll
find some answers here, Douglas. Hang in there."

"You think?" Douglas gave him a half smile and got out of the
car, grabbed his small overnight bag out of the back.

"Yeah. I do. I got a feeling. I'm legendary for my feelings,
Douglas. They call me Mr. Sensitivity. Ask anyone." Mulder
grinned, and for an instant he saw an answering smile touch
Douglas' eyes. It faded quickly.

Douglas gave him a shrug, and walked to his room, paused at
the door. "She thinks I'm dead, doesn't she?"

"That's a distinct possibility." Mulder agreed
apologetically.

Douglas disappeared inside. Mulder weighed the odds, then
drove to a fast food restaurant on the other side of the
motel, through the drive-thru, and was back in five minutes
with his burger and fries. He took his overnight bag and the
food into the room next to Douglas, ate quickly, then chewed
thoughtfully on the ice from his soda.

He glanced at the small plastic evidence bags he'd tossed on
the bed. His mind went back to the events of the afternoon.
Douglas wearing body armor, a mysterious meeting ... and
later medical evidence to suggest Douglas displayed classic
impact bruising, and had been drugged. It was enough for him
to conclude the likely scenario was that Douglas' death had
been faked for Ayers' benefit, but he was still no closer to
knowing why, and certainly no closer to the whereabouts of
the woman herself. Douglas had no clue why he had been set
up, Ayers was unavailable to comment. Mulder certainly wasn't
going to rule out the possibility that Douglas' uncanny
talent for getting people's cooperation was high on the
motives list. The way he saw it, there was at least one
person who may be able to fill in the blanks. Agent Gerald
Sutton.

He yanked off his tie, rolled up his sleeves and dropped onto
the bed. Then he thought a little longer, finally reached for
the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Scully."

Despite himself, he smiled at the sound of her voice. "You'll
never guess where I am, Scully."

"Mulder? I've been trying to contact you. Why isn't your
phone on? Skinner said you and Douglas went to Kansas, didn't
report back yet."

Mulder sat up, grabbed the cel phone out of his jacket, and
checked it. "Phone battery's dead, Scully ... and Skinner
asked me to take Douglas to Topeka. They found a body they
thought might have been Ayers. Turned out to be a false
alarm. Douglas didn't take it very well. Poor kid looks shell
shocked."

"Is Douglas with you? Now?" A small amount of alarm tinged
Scully's voice.

"We took the opportunity to do some back-tracking. We went
over the events of the day Leona Ayers disappeared and found
out a few interesting details. I think we're on to something,
Scully ... I'm in Denver. I'm convinced someone here knows
what happened to Ayers...."

"Listen to me, Mulder--"

"Douglas was set up, Scully. They both were ... I'm sure of
it..."

"Listen to me, Mulder ... Do *not* trust Agent Douglas. I
have information to suggest he's not what he seems to be. His
missing partner, in fact this entire case ... it could all be
a fabrication designed to reel you in..."

Mulder shook his head as he considered that idea. "No, Scully
... that look on his face before we went into the morgue was
no fabrication. He really doesn't know what happened to her.
I'm sure of that much. It's tearing him up. They were more
than partners, Scully, they were lovers."

"I suspected they might have been, Mulder ... but you
confirming it only gives me more reason to doubt him."

Mulder frowned, "I don't understand ... what information?"

Scully's voice sounded almost apologetic, "I've completed the
autopsy on your runner, compared the results to the other
stroke cases on file."

Mulder's eyebrows lifted in interest, "Yeah?"

"You were right. They were no co-incidence, Mulder." she
continued, "The haemorrhagic lesions in all cases were too
similar in both size and positioning ... the event of stroke
in people aged under 35 is the statistic thin-edge-of-the-
wedge. Add the fact that haemorrhagic strokes account for
only 10% of the total CVA, and the fact that the deceased in
this case didn't even have the usual risk factors normally
associated with strokes - no evidence that they smoked, no
obesity, no diabetes, no hypertension. The odds of this
occurring naturally are astronomical." Scully let out a sigh,
"My first thought was environmental factors, but I couldn't
establish any connections. They also all exhibited the same
pattern of scarring - predominantly the skull, the area of
the temporal lobes."

Mulder nodded in thought, said slowly, "So you're saying ...
someone did something to these people? But what's this to do
with Douglas? Why shouldn't I trust him?"

"The toxicology in all cases pointed to unusually large
amounts of sedative present, but in more than one case,
witnesses reported no hint of them being affected ... in some
cases, it was exactly the opposite. I checked back into
Douglas' records. He also has a history of high sedative
tolerance. I witnessed it myself."

Mulder frowned to himself, "Hardly damning evidence."

"But it's same strange pattern of small holes in their skulls
that I find disturbing. Scully took a deep breath, "I've seen
this pattern of scarring before." She sighed, unable to find
an easy way of continuing. "Two days ago. Looking at Douglas'
X-Rays from the car accident..."

"Shit..." Mulder muttered under his breath, letting her words
sink in. "I should have seen this coming ... Damn it!" He got
up, started pacing, admonishing himself, "It all fits. His
military background ... the way that last suspect
conveniently 'missed' him ... Even Weiss said he was 'one of
them'..."

"There's more, Mulder .... I went back to the hospital after
the autopsy to collect his records to do some further
comparisons. They're gone. Like he was never there." She took
another breath, "And one other thing I noticed. Did you see
his arm? Did you see how fast it healed?"

"No ... " Mulder said slowly. He made a mental note to check
for himself. "Military experiments ... it has to be..." his
voice slowed as he reached another conclusion, "That explains
how he can make people say things, do things they wouldn't
normally do ... "

"*Make* them?" Scully's voice rose skeptically, "I believe
Douglas isn't what he appears to be ... but I refuse to
believe he's walking around like some kind of cross between
Firestarter and Svengali--"

"Or L'ively and Modell? He told me, Scully. I saw it with my
own eyes. He can make people do things." Mulder interrupted.
"You know as well as I do what Modell was capable of. You
don't think it's possible that those very people weren't the
models for these experiments?"

There was a long pause from the other end of the line, "The
markings on the skulls were concentrated around the area of
the temporal lobes..." she admitted.

Mulder continued. "He knows what he can do ... Do you think
he knows about this? What was done to him?"

Scully let out a sharp breath. "Someone's been drilling holes
in his head, Mulder. It's difficult to believe he wouldn't
know about it."

"But ... not impossible? Right, Scully?" Mulder sounded a
little hopeful.

"I suppose not," she conceded. "Whether he's aware of it or
not ... he could very well be a danger to others, maybe
himself. That migraine he had could have been symptomatic."

"You think he's heading for a stroke? Like the others?"

"It's a very real possibility. At the very least, he should
be re-admitted to the hospital for further tests."

"I think I can say now that he's not going to like that one
bit."

Scully sighed, "I don't see he has a choice, Mulder. We can
jump that hurdle tomorrow."

Mulder frowned to himself as a thought struck him, "While
I've got you, there was something I wanted to ask..." He
wriggled on the bed, pulled a crumpled scrap of paper out of
his pocket, notes he'd made after his visit to Douglas'
apartment. He repeated the words on the paper to her, the
prayer he had found tucked away in his bible.

The was a pause as Scully thought, "Some kind of invocation
to a Saint? Where'd you get it?"

Mulder avoided the question, "Do you know which Saint?"

"Couldn't say for sure from that. I can look it up. Could be
one of a few ... Is there more?"

"No." Mulder stuffed the paper back into his pocket, "That's
all there was. Just curious." He considered the man he hoped
was still asleep in the room next door, "Can you get here
tomorrow? We'll be at the Denver office."

"Just promise me you won't do anything until I get there.
Don't let him know what we know. All right?"

Silence.

Scully was insistent, "All right, Mulder?"

He sighed loudly. "Okay, Scully."

"I'll try and be there by lunchtime. See you then."

The phone clicked in his ear.

Mulder awoke early the next morning, forgoing his usual run
for some time with a pen and paper, made some notes and
checked his data. He placed a call to the offices of the Lone
Gunmen. 7:30 am in Washington. Not surprisingly, Frohike
answered the phone.

"It's me, Mulder. What do you do Frohike, live there?" Mulder
joked.

"On occasion."

"I need a favor."

"I expected that. What's up?"

"I need you to check on some people for me."

"Let me fire up Bessie here." There was a moment's wait,
while Frohike closed the computer program he'd been running
and talked to Byers. "Okay, whatcha need?"

"I need you to find out about an FBI agent, name's Gerald
Sutton. He's out of the Denver Bureau. Also Elias Brown, he's
the Deputy Assistant Director of the Denver Bureau."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not in Kansas anymore,
Mulder?"

"Because I'm in Denver, Colorado. How'd you know I was in
Kansas, Frohike?"

"Tracked your government credit card. Actually, I was keeping
an eye on Mac, when your name came up on the plane ticket
with his. Problems?"

Mulder filled him in on the Topeka events, and the
conclusions that had brought them to Denver.

Frohike was silent. The only sound that came over the line
was the clacking of computer keys. "So, how's the kid doing?"
he finally asked.

"He's hanging on, up and down like a yo-yo. I just have to
keep him from going off half cocked if we do uncover
something. What do you care, anyway? I thought you guys were
mad at him."

"Ah, we got over that quick. It was an interesting twist,
that virus of his. Besides, he came to see us the other day.
Apologized. Me and him ended up having quite the talk."

Mulder felt his eyebrows raise. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's in love with her, Mulder. Leona Ayers. You know
that, don't you?"

"I found out yesterday."

"He showed me her picture, Mulder, if Agent Scully weren't
first in my affections ... definitely delectable. I recorded
our conversation, in case you wondered about them."

"You're slime, Frohike. Is nothing sacred?"

"I only recorded it because I was envious, Mulder. Young love
and all that. I don't know who's behind what happened, and I
don't know why, but I'm pissed all the same. He's a nice kid.
A freakin' babe in the woods, but nice. He doesn't deserve
all this shit being handed to him."

"Getting sentimental in your old age, Frohike? You just like
him because he hacked into your computers and gave you a
virus you've never seen before."

"That too. Hell, if he decides a career in the FBI isn't for
him, I think we could find him employment. He's got po-ten-
tial. You got a computer there, Mulder?"

"No, we left in a hurry. No laptops, nothing."

"How deep you want me to dig into these guys? I can get you
the Bureau stuff in another minute, anything else may take a
while. Say an hour or so. And from what I see so far, you're
going to want a fax of this."

"I want it all on Sutton. Brown if you have time. I'll call
you back in an hour or so. From a place with a fax. I assume
there's something there then?"

"Let me dig some more. Byers is on deep background. I'll have
Langly set up a secure transmission when you give me a
number."

"Thanks Frohike, I owe you."

"Heard that before, but do I see any sign of the ravishing
Agent Scully? No..."

"Call you in an hour or so, Frohike." Mulder hung up and
pulled his jacket on, went to the room next door and knocked
loudly. "Douglas?"

McKenna eventually came to the door, half-dressed, eyes
bloodshot, and rubbing a towel over his damp hair. The small
gold medallion gleamed from his chest. He undid the lock and
let Mulder in.

"How you feeling, Stanford?"

"Okay. A little better after the rest."

"Good," Mulder commented, not convinced. Douglas still looked
distant and disoriented. He watched the other agent hang the
towel over a chair and quickly comb his trimmed dark hair
into place, then grab his t-shirt, pull it on. He buttoned
his dress shirt, secured a maroon tie around his neck and
knotted it in short order.

"I've got some calls out, things we need to check on,
Douglas. Thought we could grab some breakfast, and hit your
place before the office." He watched Douglas nod, then
noticed the bandage missing from the kid's forehead. In its
place was ... nothing. Smooth undisturbed flesh. No scab, no
scar. Not even a hint of the trauma he's sustained a few days
earlier. Just as Scully noted. His blood was red, Mulder
reminded himself. He'd seen it with his own eyes, smeared on
Douglas' suit and the middle lane of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Douglas tugged his suit jacket, then overcoat on, checked the
lay of his weapon and grabbed his overnight bag. "Let's go."

Mulder nodded, went back to his room, took the cel battery
out of the recharger and slipped it in place, made sure the
phone was on and in his overcoat pocket, took his gear and
notes, and left.

END PART 12/18


The Icarus Agent (13/18)

A short time later they were making their way to the
townhouse Ayers and Douglas had lived in the past few months.
It was in a pleasant neighborhood, full of young executives
on the way up the corporate ladder. The one Douglas directed
him to stop at was no different from the rest, shades of tan
and ochre, brown trim, four steps lead to the colonial front
door, separated from it's neighbors by a low white picket
fence.

Mulder got out and went with Douglas to the door, waited
while he fumbled it open and stepped inside behind the other
agent. What he saw surprised him. The living room was long
and narrow, and ended in a breakfast bar that separated it
from the small kitchen. The furniture was contemporary and
comfortable looking. The decorations consisted of framed
landscape photographs, ceramic cat figures, and potted
plants, most long dead. A mountain bike hung on the short
wall, looking like a sleek abstract sculpture. Everywhere
Mulder looked, he could see the integration of two
personalities, and the meshing of two lives. Copper pots and
utensils hung in regimented order on the kitchen walls,
cookbooks climbed a narrow bookshelf along the arched
doorway, arranged alphabetically.

He watched Douglas wander around and touch things, as if
reassuring himself they were still there. He walked down a
narrow hallway, up a short set of stairs and Mulder followed.
Upstairs was a typical two bedroom, bathroom layout. Mac went
into one bedroom. It had been converted to an office. Two
desks backed each other, as distinct as the people who used
them. Douglas' was neat and organized, crowded with two
computer terminals and various electronic equipment, files
and books stacked close at hand.

Agent Ayers desk was chaos, files and papers scattered
everywhere, a bare spot indicated where her computer once
sat. The shelves overflowed with sticky-notes and books and
scientific journals.

Douglas looked around, and frowned.

"Everything okay?" Mulder asked. "Where's the other computer?
You been raided or something?"

Mac shook his head, "No ... Leona was never the neatest
person you'd ever meet ... " a fond smile touched his lips,
but soon faded, "The Bureau took her comp and laptop after
... after she disappeared. Said they were evidence."

"They find anything on them?"

"No, of course not..." At Mulder's look, Douglas elaborated.
"I designed an encryption program, for our personal data.
Leona used it, there is no way the Bureau can break it."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "A bit ... overconfident, aren't
you? Bureau employs a lot of good computer people."

"Not as good as me," Douglas said. "It's a strong program. I
don't think even Frohike could break it. Not easily, anyhow."

"I wouldn't say that around him ... could result in a bet."
Mulder looked around. "So they took her comp to the evidence
vault?"

"Yeah. For what good it did. They never even looked at it. I
checked the logs."

"You mean you hacked the logs."

"That too. The comps were entered as evidence against me, but
nothing was ever done to retrieve data off them."

"Would there be anything on them to tell us what Agent Ayers
was involved in? Why she disappeared?"

"Could be..." Douglas chewed his lower lip. "Her personal
journal was there, encrypted with my program. If she had
suspicions about anything, it would be in there."

"Then I think we need to get our hands on a copy, don't you?"

"I tried getting her comps released, after a few weeks. I
asked and put in requisitions. They wouldn't do it."

Mulder gave him a grin. "But maybe you just needed to *tell*
them, Stanford. You know, like you did at the hospital. Like
you did with Skinner..."

Douglas gave a slow smile. "Maybe you're right. I never
thought of that. Of course, I was pretty upset at the
time..." he looked across at Mulder, "I don't feel ...
*right* doing it, you know...?"

"You really don't know how or why you can do it, do you? When
it started?"

"Leona noticed it, helped me to use it..." Douglas shrugged,
"Could have been like this my whole life for all I know."

Mulder stared back at him. He had to force himself to not say
what he thought. That Ayers had learned of the military
experiments involving Douglas, and the evidence was all on
her computer hard drive. He could tell that Douglas was
simply oblivious. And Ayers again sounded increasingly
curious. But he had promised Scully he'd wait.

"Let's go to the office, Douglas. Get us some files."

"Okay. Let me check on the cat first."

"Sure," Mulder said. He followed Douglas out, glancing into
the other bedroom. A queen sized bed, cherry headboard,
covered with what looked like a handmade quilt. His mother
would have recognized the design ... Matching dressers, an
overstuffed chair, a reading lamp. What caught his eye was a
framed map of Australia hanging on the wall, small town in
the south east circled in red.

"A neighbor up the street is watching Hoover for us," Douglas
called back as he clattered down the stairs.

Mulder took a last look at the map from the doorway, then
followed. "Hoover? Agent Douglas, I'm ashamed of you,
demeaning one of the Bureau's finest like that."

Douglas looked startled, then laughed. "No... he's Hoover
because he sucks up food like a vacuum cleaner."

Mulder shook his head. "Anything you say, kid." The small
grin stayed on his face as Douglas closed the door and locked
the deadbolt. Mulder headed for the car. "Ten minutes,
Douglas."

"Yes, Sir." Douglas went down two townhouses, knocked on the
door.

Even from the car Mulder could see Douglas' smile as a young
woman with a baby in her arms answered the door, followed by
an energetic toddler who promptly grabbed Douglas around the
knees. To Mulder's surprise, Douglas picked up the little
boy, turned him upside down, and played airplane with him
while talking to the woman. Douglas talked to the boy, who
disappeared inside and came out a few minutes later, lugging
a cat almost as long as he was. The animal appeared to
survive the affront to his dignity, limp as a toy. When
Douglas took him and sat on the front step, the cat settled
into his lap comfortably. Mulder imagined he could hear the
purring from here.

Douglas petted the cat for a few minutes, the woman and baby
disappeared inside out of the cold. The little boy hung over
Douglas' shoulder at first. His mother reached out, and
pulled him inside the house. After another few minutes,
Douglas quit petting the cat, draped it around his shoulders
like a scarf, the animal hung there, perfectly content.
Mulder shook his head. Douglas knocked on the door, handed
the cat inside, then pulled out his wallet and gave the woman
some money. After a momentary protest, she took it. Douglas
came back to the car and got in, not looking at Mulder. "We
can go."

Mulder put the car in gear, and pulled out. "Ayers' cat,
huh?" He was treated to the rare sight of a blush on McKenna
Douglas' face.



A copy store provided the fax Mulder needed, he called
Frohike and soon the pages were coming out of the machine.
Ten of them. Two of them had pictures, and it was these
Mulder stared at with interest. He paid, and folded the
faxes, stuck them in his coat pocket and returned to the car
where Douglas waited impatiently.

"Well?"

"Let's go to the office, Douglas."

Getting into the evidence vault was easier than Mulder
anticipated. He watched Douglas confidently tell the clerk
what to do, and trailed behind as Douglas was escorted into a
secure room. The young agent waited until the clerk left,
then hurried to plug in the computer terminal and rig up a
monitor and keyboard.

Mulder hung over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Douglas never looked up from his typing. "I'm going to access
the encrypted program with Leona's journal. I don't want to
decrypt it here, so I'll just get it on a disk and erase it
from the hard drive."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. Piece of cake." Douglas popped a floppy disk in the
drive and sat back. "Leona tends to write a lot..." He
frowned. "But this seems excessive even for her." After a few
minutes he took the disk out and placed it in a hard case,
handed it to Mulder and started typing again. His brow
knitted in concentration, his tongue poked out of his mouth
as he worked. Time crept by as the computer did its work
destroying the evidence. Finished, Douglas powered everything
down and disassembled it, returned it to it's original
places. "Let's get out of here."

"What's your hurry? We're allowed to be here ... sort of."

"Frohike pointed out the mistakes I made in using the Bureau
comp in Washington, I don't want the same ones made here. Not
to mention being on the video too long..." He glanced at the
camera tucked unobtrusively in the corner of the room and
whispered. "He showed me how to fix that problem too. I'm not
going through *that* again."

Mulder resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, tucked
the disk in an inside jacket pocket, and waited until they
were back in the hall before speaking. "You and the guys kiss
and make up?"

Douglas gave him an exasperated look and punched the elevator
button. "We reached an understanding, yes..."

A slight grin touched Mulder's face. "Good. They're the wrong
guys to piss off. They can ruin your credit history, you
know."

"They wouldn't dare," Douglas said with a frown.

"Not to you, Stanford, no. I think your little virus got
their attention." The elevator dinged, and Mulder said, "We
need to find Agent Sutton, any idea where he'd be?"

Douglas scowled and got on the elevator. "Do we have to see
him?"

"Yes. I need to talk to him. *You* need to talk to him."
Mulder regarded the other agent curiously. "Is there a
problem?"

Douglas thought, then punched a button for the fifteenth
floor. "Not really ... I just don't like him. The feeling is
mutual I guess. I think we'd be better off not going to the
office to look for him just yet, I got a few sources I can
check with first."

"You don't want to be seen in the office?"

"Not really..." Douglas looked down and scuffed a toe in the
elevator carpet. "I don't exactly feel comfortable there
anymore, you know?"

"I understand." Losing your partner and being a suspect in
her disappearance was bound to kill your popularity with co-
workers.

They got off and walked down the hall to a unobtrusive office
labeled Transportation and Supply. Douglas smiled at one of
the clerks.

"Hey Kelli, how are you?"

"McKenna Douglas! Where you been, sugar? I miss having to
file the insurance paperwork on the cars you drive." The
slender, dark woman reached over the counter and hugged him.
Douglas looked embarrassed.

"Didn't you hear, Kelli? I got transferred. To D.C. Me and my
new partner are just out here working on a case. Uh, fraud."
He glanced at Mulder then away.

"Oooh, the big time. I heard things. You got away from here.
I'm glad for you."

"It's just like being here ... but busier. Uh, I need a
favor, Kelli. I need to find Agent Sutton, would you happen
to know where he is? If he signed out a car? I'd go up to the
office, but me and Agent Mulder here are in kind of a hurry.
Don't want anybody up there feeling hurt if I didn't stop and
talk, you know..." Douglas gave her a smile.

"I understand, sugar." Kelli patted his hand. "Gerald? Yeah,
he was in here this morning." She pulled a clipboard out from
under the counter and checked it. "He signed out for the
Capitol, but that was three hours ago, he probably dropped
over to the Sixteenth Street Mall for lunch. He was yapping
to his partner, Josephs, about some big meeting there. He's
going places, he said." She rolled her eyes.

"Hughs isn't his partner anymore?"

"Lord no, sugar. They split about the time you left here."

"Thanks, Kelli. I knew I could count on you."

"Anytime, sweetie. You come say goodbye before you leave this
time, okay?"

"Sure thing." He gave her another smile, then turned and
followed Mulder out to the hall. "We can grab a cab over to
the mall, ordinarily I'd walk, but, I think we need to find
him soon. Sutton drifts a lot. If I remember right, there's a
little Italian deli he liked to eat at. I took Leona there
once ... Sutton stared at us the entire meal ... we never
went back."

Mulder stared at Douglas thoughtfully. "You never tried to
... make that woman tell you things, did you?"

Douglas punched the elevator button for the ground floor.
"No. I don't have to play games with Kelli. She's helped me
before."

"Why's that?"

Douglas shrugged. "Dunno. She went to my church. I took her
older kid to a Bronco's game once ... a few Rockies games ...
fixed her carburettor. Nothing big."

Mulder just shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Douglas.
Didn't even know you liked football."

"I don't."

They caught a cab and were shortly deposited in the middle of
the street, at the end of the mall a few blocks away. Douglas
paid the driver and set off at a brisk walk, dodging the
slower moving pedestrians. Mulder raced to keep up. "You know
where he is, Douglas?"

"I'm going to try the restaurant first. Maybe we'll get
lucky."

"Just let me do the talking..." Mulder sighed to himself as
Douglas quickly changed directions, he broke into a half-trot
to keep up, "You listening to me, Douglas?"

"Change of plan." Douglas stopped suddenly. Mulder almost ran
into him. "He's over there..."

Mulder looked in the direction Douglas stared. Through the
crowd, he spied the man he recognised from the picture
Frohike had kindly supplied. Gerald Sutton. Tall, broad-
shouldered, slab-faced, thin brown hair starting to disappear
from his forehead. He was exiting a Greek fast food place,
accompanied by another man dressed in the standard black
overcoat.

Douglas moved again, headed straight for Sutton. Mulder kept
alongside, "I meant what I said. I'll ask the questions."

"All right," Douglas responded with a nod, "But if I so much
as smell a lie, I'm taking over."

Mulder glanced at him thoughtfully, but said nothing. They
came to a stop in front of Sutton. The other man eyed them
and moved off into the crowd without a word.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder." He displayed his badge, then
nodded in Mac's direction, "And I believe you know Agent
Douglas."

Sutton looked from one to the other with suspicion. "What's
all this about?"

Douglas glared at him, but remained tight lipped.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions concerning the
disappearance of Special Agent Leona Ayers."

"Well, that's a fine thing Agent ... what did you say?
Mullins?" Sutton tossed the remnants of his lunch into a
trash bin, looked back at Mulder, who simply waited. "Because
I tend to get a might touchy when someone such as yourself
turns up, asking questions about *my* case while he's
standing next to my number one suspect."

Mulder shoved his hands into his pockets, "In that event, I'm
sure you'll be pleased to hear about the new evidence that's
come to my attention ... being *your* case and all ..."

"I have nothing to say to you. Or him." Sutton turned to walk
away, but Douglas stepped into his path.

"You were at that warehouse in Topeka." The flat
pronouncement came out of nowhere.

Sutton stared back at Douglas, speechless.

"Yes, I remember it now. I know you were there."

Mulder cocked an eyebrow at that. It seemed a rather large
leap for Douglas to make. Still, he could tell by the look on
Sutton's face that Douglas had hit a nerve. A raw one.

Douglas leaned closer, "What happened to Leona?"

"I'll tell you what happened to her..." Sutton scowled at
him, "You screwed her, you knocked her up, and then you
killed her because of it."

There was a terse silence. Douglas stiffened as Sutton's
words sank in. "She was pregnant?" he replied, voice hoarse
and expression stunned, "You're telling me Leona was
pregnant...?"

Sutton's tone had lost none of its bite. "You're the stud,
Douglas ... so you tell me."

"I think the question here is how would you know that?"
Mulder piped in, "And I can only think of one reason why
she'd be telling you that and not Agent Douglas."

Douglas finally made a move, reaction delayed by shock, and
the implication of Mulder's question. Despite the size
difference, he lunged forward, caught Sutton by the lapels
and started shaking him, the calmness in his voice seeming
eerie against his outward aggression. "You're going to tell
me exactly where Leona is and you're going to do it *now*."

"Okay! Okay..." Sutton stared at Mac, mesmerized. "I'll tell
you. It wasn't even my idea, after all ... although I rather
liked it, especially after Ayers turned me down for an
inferior little punk like you. Laughed in my face, the bitch.
Tell me, was she as good a lay as everyone said--"

"You slimy son of a dog!" Mac's eyes flared, and he spun the
older man around, slammed him up against a light pole. "You
don't talk about her like that! Why I ought to-"

Mulder felt that curious build-up of temperature, just like
in Georgetown, just before... His last conversation with
Scully raced through his head. He grabbed Douglas by the arm,
felt the heat and coiled tension. "Mac, don't..."

Douglas never took his eyes off Sutton, "Stay out of this Mul
..." He froze a moment, tipped his head slightly, then yelled
at Mulder. "GO! get the hell out of here ... get away!"

"NO, Douglas! *stop* Don't do it!" Mulder yanked him roughly,
desperately, and tore Mac away from the other agent so
violently they staggered backwards and fell.

Then they were both on the ground, scrambling away from a
flash of blinding light and a wall of searing heat. Seconds
later there was nothing except the screams of panicked people
and a pile of sludge in the spot Sutton had been, a curious
mix of snow and steaming ash.

Mulder got Douglas away from there, half-dragging, half-
yanking the younger man along by the arm and collar of his
coat. He got Douglas around the corner, out of sight of the
still panicked crowd and pushed him up against the building.

"Why? Why did you do it, Douglas?"

"Do what?" The other agent looked at him, wide-eyed, visibly
trembling.

"Why the hell did you kill Sutton?" Mulder shook him. "Are
you crazy? You lost your temper and flamed the only lead you
had to Agent Ayers..."

Douglas knocked Mulder's hands away, and stood shivering,
arms wrapped around himself. "I didn't do it, you stupid
jerk! You think I can flambe people with a *look*?! ...
Shit..."

"But you *know* some people *can* do exactly that."

"I was trying to *save* him! You think I would knowingly cut
my only connection with Leona? I couldn't save you both ...
Oh God ..." He sank to the slushy ground, sat on his heels.
"What am I going to do now? How am I going to find her?"

Mulder shook his head to clear it. "Sutton was burned for
what he knew ... and for talking to us. We got to get you out
of here. Come on." He reached down and roughly jerked Douglas
to his feet, walked him over to the street and spent a
frustrating five minutes hailing a cab. As soon as they were
back in the relative safety of the Federal Building, he
turned loose of Douglas' arm.

"This thing is out of control, Mac. We need some help. Let's
go talk to your boss."

Douglas looked up. "Brown? You want me to talk to him?"

"Yeah. It's a place to start. If nothing else we can figure
out how much he knows about your partner's disappearance."
Mulder herded the reluctant Douglas onto the elevator and got
him to the eighteenth floor security checkpoint. After
showing his ID and signing them in, Mulder led Douglas
straight through the double doors into a chorus of silence
and stares from those who had once been Douglas' fellow
agents. Mulder ignored them, plowed through the catacombs of
desks and file cabinets and half walls until he arrived at
the outer office of the Deputy Assistant Director.

"Is Director Brown in?"

The secretary gave him a polite smile. "Yes, but he's in a
meeting--"

"Thanks," Mulder said, and walked past her, tugging Douglas
by the arm.

"Wait! You can't just go in there-"

Mulder stared at the plaque on the door. It said simply,
Elias Brown, Deputy Assistant Director. He knocked and opened
the door, stepped inside and stopped dead. The familiar bald
profile of Walter Skinner swung to stare at him. He puffed
impatiently, "Agent Mulder! What do you think you are doing?"

The secretary rushed in behind them, "Sir, I'm sorry, he just
barged in-"

"It's okay Carmela. I'll handle this. Hold my calls." A tall,
umber skinned man rose from behind his large mahogany desk
and came forward. "Agent Douglas?" He looked surprised, and
eyed Mulder warily.

Another tall man, the one from Sixteenth Street, still clad
in his black overcoat, stepped forward and jabbed an accusing
finger at Mulder, "That's him. *He* saw it all. He saw this
one kill Sutton." The man glared at Mac. "Why did you do it?"

Mac stared back, dumbfounded. "Do what? I didn't do
anything."

"Now just a minute..." Mulder bristled, "Who the hell--"

Skinner's voice cut him off. "That's enough, Agent Mulder.
And you too, Agent Josephs." He rose, looked back at Brown.
"Allow me to introduce to you one of my ruder agents from the
Washington Bureau. The one who has been working with Agent
Douglas." Skinner glared directly at Mulder, making his
displeasure more than obvious. "Fox Mulder."

Brown nodded at Mulder, then moved over to stand in front of
Douglas, and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. A full
six inches taller than Douglas, he looked down with some
concern. "I thought you were still in Washington, McKenna."

Douglas looked down a moment. "I was, but..."

Elias Brown let out a long breath, released Mac's shoulder
from his vice-like grip, "Ah..." there was a hint of apology
in his voice, "They had you go to Topeka about the body."

Douglas looked over at Skinner and took a breath. "Yes, Sir.
They thought they found Leona's body ... in Topeka. Agent
Mulder and I flew out to do an identification..." He stared
up into the coffee brown eyes, searching. "It wasn't her,
Sir..."

"Good, good..." Brown looked over at Josephs, who still
stared daggers in Mac's direction. "Are you aware of the
situation regarding Agent Sutton?"

Mac swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

"It's why we're here." Mulder added for good measure.

Brown looked from one man to the other. "Have you any
explanation for what happened? According to Agent Josephs,
you were both with him at the time."

Both Mac and Mulder exchanged glances, shook their heads.
"No, Sir. We can't explain it at all."

"Very well. I've ordered every available man down there. I've
got the local PD, and forensics onto it. We'll get to the
bottom of it."

Fat chance, thought Mulder.

Brown then dismissed Josephs, who left the room under
protest.

"Is there a reason you saw fit to detour to Denver, Agent
Douglas? Instead of reporting back to me what you had
discovered?" Skinner jumped in. "And exactly what was your
business with Agent Sutton?"

"Agent Sutton was in charge of the Ayers case." Brown
explained.

"Yes," Mulder said, "He was. We found evidence that may lead
us to the whereabouts of Agent Ayers."

His pronouncement didn't have the effect Mulder had hoped
for. Instead, Skinner and Brown exchanged a glance.

"I see. Do you have this evidence with you?" Brown asked.

This time Mulder and Douglas exchanged a look. Douglas kept
quiet, eyes on Mulder, letting him take the lead. "Not
exactly, Sir..."

Skinner looked decidedly unhappy. "Agent Mulder, as Agent
Douglas' superior you should have informed me of any
developments immediately. You actions may have jeopardized an
already touchy situation."

Mulder stared back at him with a flat arrogance. "And exactly
what situation is that, Sir?"

Again Brown and Skinner only looked at each other. Mulder
could tell by watching Skinner alone that there was something
not being said.

Douglas walked forward until he was facing both men, but he
addressed Brown. "It's about Leona, isn't it?"

Brown hesitated and looked at Skinner. "We aren't at liberty
to say anything further, son, it may all be some kind of
mistake."

Douglas stared at them for a long moment. "Why won't you tell
me what's going on? Do you think I did it? Do you think I
would hurt Leona?"

Brown shook his head, favored the young man in front of him
with a rare sympathetic look, and shifted uncomfortably. "No.
Of course not."

"Am I still a suspect?"

"I'm sorry. You are. Nothing has been ruled out."

"I know why I was sent to Washington, Sirs. To get me out of
someone's way, to stop me from looking for her. I'm sure of
it." Douglas fixed pleading eyes on his former boss, "Please.
Tell me what's going on. I need to know." The calm, confident
agent who obtained confessions from hardened criminals was
gone, replaced by a distraught young man searching for his
lost love.

Brown's tone hardened. "You know I can't do that. While
you're a suspect, that would be improper."

"Then rule me out ... you just said yourself--"

"You made yourself a suspect, McKenna. You have no alibi. You
were the only one with her, and you say you can't remember a
thing. And you withheld information that could have been
pertinent to the investigation."

Douglas looked at Mulder, who gave a minute shake of his head
that Skinner didn't miss.

"If you two know something that could clear Agent Douglas, I
suggest you enlighten us right now. Otherwise, Director Brown
and myself have a few details to iron out about who actually
gets to take the heat for your actions, Agent Douglas."
Skinner paced forward and glared at Douglas.

"If I could *remember* everything I wouldn't *be* here now.
I'd be finding Leona." Mac glared back at Skinner. "How do I
know you won't use anything I tell you against me? The Bureau
hasn't exactly been interested in looking for Leona's *real*
kidnappers. They just want to find a fall guy for their own
ineptitude! Nobody gives a *shit* about her except me! You're
all too busy covering your own sorry asses to do anything
worthwhile--"

"You're out of line, Mister!" Skinner yelled. "I suggest you
shut your mouth before you say something you're going to
regret."

"The only thing I regret is believing in this worthless
organization and believing in you!" Douglas yelled back at
Skinner, "You told me that first day, if I worked hard and
played by the book, you would back me 100 percent. Well it's
payback time, *Sir*. Put up or shut up!"

Chest to chest the two men glared at each other, a
hairsbreadth away from escalating an already tense situation.
Brown and Mulder stared at them in astonishment.

"Agent Douglas--" Brown began.

Skinner whirled away and barked at Mulder. "Get him the hell
out of here before I do something we'll both regret."

"Now just a minute, Walter," Brown said.

"Elias, you signed him over to me, so that makes this
insolent young whelp *my* problem, not yours. I'm only here
about him as a courtesy." Skinner motioned to Mulder again.
"Get him out of here."

"I'm not done yet, *Sir*--" Douglas started, hands clenched
and eyes blazing.

"Oh. I think you are," Skinner said. He walked forward and
got nose to nose with the angry young agent. "I've allowed
you a lot of slack, young man, and taken your unusual
circumstances under consideration. But I will *not* allow one
of my agents to continue the level of insubordination you've
shown Agent Mulder and I the past few weeks. Do I make myself
clear?" Skinner didn't raise his voice, but the hissed words
had all the effect of an angry shout. "You are *not* some
dimestore novel private eye working his own case, you are a
member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and you will
damn well start acting like it! Do you understand me?"

Douglas stared at him a long, long moment, looked deep into
the other man's eyes, and slowly nodded. "Yes Sir. I
understand. I understand you're going to hide behind Bureau
policies and not do a damn thing to help me."

Skinner gave a snort of pure frustration, growled between
clenched teeth, "Get ... him ... out of here."

END PART 13/18



The Icarus Agent (14/18)

Mulder took the opportunity to grab Douglas by the arm and
drag him out of Brown's office. "Jesus, kid, you have a death
wish or something? And why did you go off half-cocked like
that when you could have just *made* them tell you?"

"I got angry..." Douglas jerked his arm from Mulder's grasp
once they cleared the secretary's area and turned to face
him. "He promised me, Mulder ... he *promised* me if I tried
hard, did my job well, that he'd let me continue looking for
Leona ... that he'd back me on it when push came to shove..."
Douglas looked up at the other man and said with wonder, "He
lied to me."

Mulder looked at him, started to speak, then just shook his
head, and patted Douglas awkwardly on the shoulder. "Welcome
to the real world, kid." Mulder rubbed his face. "To be
honest, I don't think they have anything to tell you. Let's
grab a cup of coffee and a chair while we figure out what to
do next. And see what *they* are going to do." He cocked his
head back at Brown's office.

"No thanks. I'll just wait here." Douglas leaned back against
the wall, and ignored the curious glances of his former
workmates. His whole body drooped wearily, as if the argument
with Skinner had drained the fight from him. But it soon
became apparent it wasn't Skinner on his mind. "It's not just
Leona now..." he looked back at Mulder, his expression close
to shell-shocked, "I've lost a child too..."

Mulder glanced around, then leaned on the wall next to him.
"You think what Sutton said was true? About her being
pregnant?"

"Yeah. I do ... Now that I think about it..." Mac closed his
eyes, let his head drop back against the wall with a loud
thunk. "It makes sense. I was just too bloody stupid to
notice..."

"Just like most men." Mulder commented.

"Why didn't she say something?" Douglas shook his head,
predominantly talked to himself, "It wasn't exactly planned
... but we'd talked about it a little. Enough for her to know
what my reaction would be, at least I hope she knew..." his
voice trailed off, his expression clouded.

"She probably just didn't get the chance..." Mulder
concluded. His attention was drawn to the far side of the
office. Something was happening. He frowned. Douglas remained
oblivious, still caught up in his own thoughts.

Two linebacker-sized men in dark suits stepped out of the
elevator. The men were frighteningly similar in their overly
muscular build and dispassionate gazes. One sported a heavy
moustache, otherwise, they could have been twins. An agent in
the front pointed back to Brown's office, and the two men
moved slowly, sunglass-covered eyes sweeping the area
methodically. An oasis of silence fell as they passed by the
other agents. They finally stopped and studied Mulder and
Douglas with sharp eyes. "McKenna Douglas?"

Mulder fought the sudden impulse to tell Douglas to run. It
wouldn't have done any good anyhow.

"I'm Douglas," Douglas answered calmly. "Can I help you
gentlemen?"

The man on the left took out a gun and pointed it at Douglas'
head. There were gasps and mutters from the agents watching,
some went for their own weapons. The man on the right
sporting the moustache held up a paper. "I have a warrant for
the arrest of McKenna Douglas for the murder of Special Agent
Leona Ayers."

Mulder swore at himself, he never should have brought Douglas
here. Might as well have gift wrapped him and delivered him
to ... who were these behemoths anyway? "Under whose
authority?" Mulder demanded.

Moustache glanced in his direction. "The Department of
Defence. Move out of the way, Sir." The man looked at
Douglas. "Put your hands on your head, interlock your
fingers, stand against the wall there..." The other man kept
his weapon pointed tightly at Douglas.

"DoD? What the hell--?"

Douglas looked at Mulder in desperation.

Mulder stepped forward. The man only raised his voice. "Stand
back Sir, this doesn't concern you."

"It sure as hell does concern me. You made a mistake. Douglas
didn't kill anyone."

"That's for somebody else to decide, step back!"

Skinner and Brown came out of the office at the sound of
raised voices. Brown was the first to recover. "What the hell
is going on here!" He roared, "Why do you have a gun on my
agent?"

Skinner was next. "Mulder! What happened?"

The agents watching buzzed and speculated. Only Douglas and
the man with the gun remained silent.

Moustache handed the paper to Brown. "I'm here to take
McKenna Douglas for the murder of Special Agent Leona Ayers."

"Now just a minute here--" Brown spluttered.

"The warrant was issued by a federal judge. You can take it
up with him." Moustache turned to Douglas, shoved him against
the wall, careful not to get in his partner's line of fire.
"Hands on head, interlock those fingers!"

Douglas slowly did as the man requested. He was shoved face
first against the wall outside Brown's office and subjected
to a rough search in front of the silent agents who watched
with disbelief as Moustache took Douglas' gun and snapped the
cuff tightly around Douglas' left wrist, then twisted his
right hand down to lock them together. The movement strained
the band on Douglas' watch, it snapped and slid to the floor
between his feet and lay there, worn silver dully gleaming.

Moustache turned Douglas around. "You have the right to
remain silent..."

Skinner stepped forward and hissed at the man, face tight and
pinched, "This wasn't the arrangement ... it wasn't supposed
to be public!"

Mulder stared a hole in his boss' back as the moustached man
replied, "I wasn't informed about any of that. You have the
right to an attorney..."

Mulder's eye fell to the watch between Douglas' feet, then
up. Douglas looked at him. "Find her, Fox ... find Leona for
me." Mulder glanced at the assembled agents, who all took in
the show with morbid fascination but didn't hear the soft
directive.

"...One will be appointed for you..."

Agent Hughs was in the crowd and watched with a helpless
anger on his face.

"Do you understand your rights as I have told them to you?"

"Don't let them do this..." Mulder looked at Mac, his
inference obvious.

Douglas nodded woodenly, unresistant. Moustache smiled in
satisfaction, and grabbed Douglas by one arm. His partner
holstered his weapon and took Douglas' other arm. They began
to escort him away.

"Wait!" Mulder said. He scooped the watch up off the floor.
"Where are you taking him?"

The two men kept walking although Moustache looked back.
"Jail."

"Which one? Wait!" Mulder's frustration grew as they kept
walking. "You've got the wrong man! Douglas didn't *do*
anything!"

The silent partner punched the elevator button in the hall.
Douglas stared straight ahead.

Mulder started after them. "Wait, damn it! I want some
answers!"

Skinner grabbed Mulder by the arm. "Let it go, Agent Mulder."

"But--"

"Let it go. You're only making it worse for Agent Douglas."
Skinner's eyes bore into his. "There's nothing we can do
here. It's out of our hands, you understand?"

Mulder slowly nodded, anger at his boss' apparent betrayal
rose like bile in his throat. He turned his back on Skinner
and looked up in time to see the elevator ping and open. They
escorted Douglas in and turned around to face the front.
Douglas looked up into Mulder's eyes and smiled sadly as the
doors closed, "Find her, Fox ... and my baby..."



Scully paid the cab driver, and stepped out onto the kerb not
far from the Denver Federal Office Building, then stood on
the sidewalk a moment to collect her bearings. As the cab
pulled away, the entrance of the building came into view
across the street.

She felt her mouth drop open when she saw McKenna Douglas
being led from the building in handcuffs toward a dark blue
van parked at the kerb. Suddenly Douglas stopped, and began
talking to the two men. Slowly the man on the left reached
into his pocket and pulled out a key, he unlocked the
handcuffs and took them off Douglas' wrists. As Scully
watched, the two men headed down the street, walking slowly
as if in a daze. Douglas rubbed his wrists and began to walk
in the opposite direction. The blue van pulled out and
followed him.

As the van came alongside Douglas, a man jumped out and
confronted him. Their body language indicated a heated
argument. Scully ran up the sidewalk on the opposite side of
the street, then stood across the several packed lanes of
traffic, trying to get Douglas' attention.

The man from the van handed something to Douglas. Douglas
took it, looked at it. As Scully tried to cross the street
towards him, Douglas looked up and straight at her. His
shocked expression was enough to tell her something was very
wrong. She quickened her pace, considered drawing her weapon,
but it was a busy street, and she knew that would cause undue
alarm.

As Scully waited for a break in traffic, Douglas looked at
her once more, dropped his hands to his sides and got in the
waiting blue van. It immediately pulled out into traffic,
causing brakes to squeal. Scully saw her chance and darted
across the street, dodging cars. A large black sedan pulled
out from the kerb as Scully strained to read the van license
plate. As traffic rolled forward, she saw U.S. government
plates on the van, and quickly repeated the numbers to
herself. The black sedan passed her. Scully glanced at it,
then froze. The profile in the passenger seat was
unmistakable. As was the cloud of smoke surrounding him.

A honking horn broke Scully's trance. She scrambled to the
kerb and to the spot where Douglas had climbed into the now
disappearing van. Her foot stepped on something soft in the
snow, a black wallet lying on the ground right where Douglas
had stood a few moments earlier. She scooped it up. A
standard FBI ID. At first, she assumed Douglas had dropped
his, but when she opened it, she found herself staring at the
face of an unfamiliar woman. The name however, was certainly
familiar. Leona Ayers.

She stared at it a moment, frowning in thought. Then tucked
the ID into her pocket, and hurried into the Federal
Building, went straight to the elevators, and the 18th floor.

The entire office was buzzing when she arrived, but she had
no way of knowing what had happened there minutes before. She
showed her badge, but needed no directions to find Mulder.
All she needed to do was follow his raised voice across the
office to find him still outside Brown's office, arguing with
Skinner. They stopped talking at her approach. Skinner barely
nodded at her, obviously agitated, and disappeared into
Brown's office, and slammed the door.

"What was Douglas doing outside? In handcuffs? Two agents
uncuffed him, then he got in a government van and
disappeared." Scully grabbed a piece of paper from a nearby
desk and wrote down the plate numbers she'd been repeating
before cramming the paper into her pocket.

"You mean the two goons didn't put him in the van?" Mulder
asked.

"No, they uncuffed him and walked away, I got the impression
Douglas was going to walk away, when somebody in that van got
out, showed him something, then he got in and they drove
away. I think they showed him this..." Scully looked at
Mulder, produced the ID she'd found outside and opened it for
him, "Leona Ayers."

Mulder stared in disbelief, whispered to himself "Bait ..."

"And that's not all. You'll never believe who was in the car
behind him. The smoking man."

"Why am I not surprised to hear that SOB's got something to
do with it?" Mulder scowled, "It gets even worse, Scully. The
Agent in Charge of Ayers' case is dead."

"What??"

"Burned, just like the others."

Scully thought a moment, glanced back at Mulder, "Douglas
fits the profile for your last runner."

Mulder shook his head firmly, "He didn't do it, Scully."

"You're the one with the theory about pyrokinetics, Mulder,
not me." she shrugged, "Besides ... for your theory to hold
true, he would have had to have dropped dead after such an
amazing feat..."

"That's it, Scully!" He looked at her, "Check with the
hospitals. I'll give you one guess what you find."

"Another 25 year old stroke victim?"

"Exactly..." Mulder let out his breath. "I'll do the check.
I've got something I want you to do." he leaned close and
whispered, "There's something internal going on here. Sutton
was no random victim. And I still have these..." He pulled
the evidence bags out of his suit pocket, passed them to her.
"We found these at Ayers last-known whereabouts."

Scully studied the contents of the bags through the plastic.
"This looks like blood." She frowned to herself, "Don't know
what the other one might be." She looked up at him again,
"You think Ayers is dead?"

"Not Ayers," Mulder said cryptically, "Douglas."

"What?" Scully said impatiently.

"Do the tests, Scully. You'll see." He leant forward once
again to her, lowered his voice. "Don't let any of that out
of your sight. And keep a low profile, don't let anyone know
exactly what you're doing."

She pursed her lips and nodded again, "Okay, Mulder. I'll see
what I can do." She turned on her heels, "And this better be
good."




It could have been any executive's club in New York City.
Stale smoke hung in the air against a backdrop of deep green.
Mahogany and Leather dominated the furniture and trimmings.
The occasional sound
of ice rattling against glasses in place of conversation. A
collection of faceless men in crisp white shirts read
newspapers.

A man entered the room, bowed his head with the deference of
a valet. "Michelle Delkap." he announced.

The large man in the middle of the room nodded in approval.
The valet nodded again and hurried away.

A woman soon entered their domain. Medium height, thin,
dishwater blond hair cut into a fashionable bob, designer
suit a pale lavender. When she spoke, it was with a lilting
English accent. "Gentlemen."

"Please, sit down..." Gentlemen's rules. "Would you like
anything?"

"No. Thank-you." The woman remained standing.

"Your report?"

She smiled. Smug. Satisfied. "I have just received the phone
call. We acquired the merchandise not an hour ago. Everything
is proceeding according to plan."

The large man's face remained chiselled stone. His nostrils
flared as he considered, "Our sources say things didn't go to
plan at all."

Delkap remained unflappable, "We had a minor inconvenience.
Another party trying to beat us to the punch. They failed."

"And the dead FBI Agent? Another 'minor inconvenience'? You
draw unnecessary attention with such tactics."

"That was unfortunate ... but necessary. A security
precaution."

Another man leant forward. He was slender, impeccably
manicured, gracefully aged, with a thick shock of slate grey
hair. "What do you mean another party? That dead agent was
your security leak?"

"There is no security leak." Delkap affirmed.

"And as for your merchandise ... We want a name."

Michelle Delkap hesitated only briefly, "I will make that
known to you as soon as the work is completed. I am returning
to the Clinic immediately."

"You do not toy with a man who can control others. Assuming
your claims are true ... and we have yet to see that
evidence. How do you control the controller?"

"I have the situation maintained." she assured them again.
"He will not risk the consequences of non-cooperation. He
will do exactly as I want."

"What *we* want." Her arrogance was quickly corrected.

She nodded.

"That is all."

The door closed after her. There was a pause. Cigars were
lit, glasses topped up with port and brandy.

"We need to move the other agent out of harms way. If we
allow her to continue killing FBI indiscriminately, and
without sanction, she can seriously endanger the project."

The large man sighed again. "Get me our man in Washington on
the phone."



Some hours later, Scully returned to the Denver offices,
found Mulder holed up in a conference room. "I did the tests
... the results are ... strange, to say the least..."

Mulder looked up, gave her a knowing look, "You've got blood
that isn't Douglas', some kind of fake blood, and a
tranquillizer of some sort in the syringe."

"I also have a type match for Douglas on the syringe." Scully
added. "But I'm sure that doesn't surprise you either."

"Nope." Mulder shrugged. "A body was brought in to Denver
General not an hour after Sutton's demise. Young male. No
cause of death obvious."

"Your stroke victim? Get an ID?"

"Not yet ... working on it..."

"Agent Mulder?" A voice came from the doorway.

Mulder looked over Scully's shoulder at Agent Hughs. "Yes?"

Hughs frowned to himself, "I think we should talk..." The
agent had determination written all over his square face, the
sky blue eyes darkened with agitation. He appeared to be
about Scully's age, stocky and broad-shouldered, large hands
clenched by his sides. His dirty blond hair was fashionably
cut, and the tan on his face and crow's feet around his eyes
gave him the look of a gracefully aging ski bum.

Scully glanced in Mulder's direction, question on her face.
Mulder simply nodded at Hughs, indicated he come in and close
the door behind him.

"Agent Scully, this is Agent Hughs...?"

"Jim Hughs..." He shook Scully's hand quickly, then stood,
eyes darting back and forth between them.

"It's okay, Scully's my partner. She's as concerned about
McKenna as I am."

That seemed to reassure the other man, he stared at the two
agents a moment, then shook his head. "Douglas was a good
guy, turning into a good agent. Always willing to lend a hand
... My former partner, Sutton, thought he was too cocky, but
hey, we were all that way at that age." Hughs shrugged. "I
*liked* him, him and Agent Ayers. I never understood what
happened ... I thought she was safe..." he ran a nervous hand
across his face, "Now ... now I'm not so sure."

Mulder frowned.

Scully took a step forward, "Are you talking about what
happened in Topeka?"

Hughs nodded his reply, dropped into a chair. Scully sat
opposite him.

Mulder took his time, poured a cup of coffee from the pot in
the corner, then passed it to Hughs silently before taking a
seat of his own. "You were in Topeka the day Ayers
disappeared," he stated simply, "You took Douglas to the
hospital. You know what happened."

"It was supposed to be a sting. Need to know basis only. To
make it look like Douglas was dead. To keep him safe. Him and
Ayers."

"So you set them up?" Mulder's voice remained calm. "You put
him in body armor and took a couple of shots at him. Sedated
him while he was stunned."

"I couldn't believe the amount of sedative Sutton gave him.
It could have knocked over a bull, made me nervous..." Hughs
continued, "I thought he was trying to kill Douglas. So I
went back later, after Sutton took Ayers from me, to check on
him, you know?"

"Make sure he wasn't dead?"

Hughs nodded, "Yeah ... I was only following Agent Sutton's
directives. To keep Douglas in the dark. But no way was I
going to hurt the guy. So I took him to the hospital ... just
in case." Hughs fingered the coffee cup nervously. "It wasn't
until I thought about the short time I spent with Leona, that
I realized neither of them were aware of what was happening.
I felt awful ... she was inconsolable. She thought her
partner had been brutally murdered ... and she was pregnant
besides."

Scully's eyebrows raised a notch. Mulder gave her a slight
nod in indication that he knew. "She told you that? She said
it was Agent Douglas' child? Or you all ready knew?"

He looked up at them. "Yeah, she told me, even said it was
his...." Hughs blew out a breath, shook his head, "I was
stunned. Up until that point I didn't even know they had
something going. There'd been the usual rumors ... but..." he
shook his head again, "I thought she was going to lose the
baby. I said it had gone too far ... I wanted to tell her ...
but Sutton said I couldn't tell her anything. Not yet. That
she'd be told as soon as she'd been secured."

"Secured?" Mulder leant forward, gave Scully a hopeful glance
before returning his attention to Hughs, "Secured where?"

"I don't know exactly. All I was told was that she was handed
over to witness protection, a safe house. That's probably not
true either."

Scully frowned to herself, "I don't understand. Didn't you
think it strange you went to all that trouble to make Douglas
look dead ... then you find him back at work the next day?
And under investigation for the disappearance of his
partner?"

"Strange? I was shocked. But I was under orders. I did
question it, but was told I didn't know the whole story, and
to keep it to myself," he shrugged, "So I did. I got seven
years on this job..." He looked from one to the other, "I
wanted to keep it. When Douglas was transferred out ... I
figured that would be the end of it. Until the Colletti trial
coming up in April, anyway." He looked at Mulder. "But Sutton
being murdered... Then you finding Ayers' badge outside ...
and what just happened with Douglas ... He couldn't have
killed her. Christ, he worshipped her!" Hughs laughed
abruptly. "And I don't even believe she's dead."

Scully raised a brow, "You don't know that for sure, though?"

"I think he's right, Scully..." Mulder interrupted. "You
don't go to all that trouble then kill someone. Makes no
sense."

Scully nodded. She had to agree, "So ... what now?"

"Now I make a phone call," Mulder looked from one agent to
the other, "And for the time being, I suggest we keep what we
know to ourselves. Safer for everyone involved."

Hughs nodded. "If you need any help ... just ask. I feel
terrible. What happened to Douglas ... could happen to any of
us, you know? It's not right..." He walked out of the
conference room.

Scully sat in thought a moment, glanced at Mulder, "The
evidence you collected strongly suggests everything he said
is true."

"Exactly..." Mulder let out his breath. "Shit, this is just
getting weirder..." he pulled out his cel phone, but had
second thoughts, put it back into his pocket. "I'll catch up
with you later. I'm going to take a walk. I need to see if
Frohike can find a backdoor into the WPP."



After putting the finishing touches of solder on the computer
board he was modifying, Langly sat back to admire his
handiwork. He put the soldering iron down, switched it off,
peered closely through the magnifying glass, re-checking his
connections.

Satisfied, he pulled his glasses off briefly and rubbed the
bridge of his nose, "OK guys," he announced to whoever was
listening, "This should do the trick."

Frohike appeared behind him, "You're finished so soon? You're
*sure* it will work?"

"Don't argue with the master," Langly cracked his knuckles in
an exaggerated gesture. Frohike rolled his eyes.

Byers leant closer, studied the computer card perched in
front of Langly, then reached out and picked it up carefully.
"Let's see if this bird will fly."

After a few minutes, Byers slid the card into his computer,
and powered it up. He hazarded a glance at the two men
hanging over his shoulder, too nervous to smile. "Gentlemen
... it seems we're in."

Langly grinned, "What did I tell you?"

Byers started tapping at the keyboard, "Let's see if Mulder
was right..." he continued typing, "Now all we need is a
login."

The three of them stared at the screen, waited. Codes flew
past faster than they could ever read them. Then a few beeps.
Then success.

Frohike chuckled, shook his head, "Remind me never to become
a protected witness. That was just too damn easy."

Langly and Byers looked at each other, shook their heads.

"Come on," Frohike urged, "Don't waste time with the mutual
appreciation society crap. Is she in there or not?"

Byers typed in a query. They huddled around the screen in
expectation. Within a few seconds, they had their answer.
Byers didn't pause to read. Instead, he automatically jumped
to action, started to download the information.

"My god ... It's her..." Frohike started reading, "LeighAnn
Sayer ... formerly Leona Ayers. Now in a government safe
house. A houseboat in Mission Bay, San Diego ... a
houseboat?" The screen went blank, "Byers!"

"I'm not hanging around in there all day. It's all coming out
on the printer now."

The printer whirred. Langly stood by, pulled the paper out
and scanned it, shook his head, "I'll be damned ... Mulder
was right. According to this, Leona Ayers was put into
protective custody as a witness to a mob hit." he passed the
paper over to Frohike, "The murder of Federal Agent McKenna
Douglas."

Frohike took the paper, grinned, "So people do come back from
the dead after all..." He glanced at his watch, "Get us a
secure line to Mulder. If they hurry, they should be able to
make San Diego by tonight."



The Delkap Clinic sat well away from civilization, on the
outskirts of Alamogordo. Encircled by unremarkable landscape,
it appeared as an tiny oasis of manicured lawn. Secluded, and
secured. An eight foot high chainlink fence surrounded the
compound, and the entrance was controlled by a gate and
guard.

The guard glanced up as a van approached, looked casually at
the ID the driver held out, and punched the button for the
gate. It rolled back silently, and the van moved on, and
parked at the top of the circular drive in front of the
clinic. A grim faced man got out, and waited for McKenna
Douglas and the other guard. Douglas was dragged out, and
baulked, suddenly reluctant to go any further. The guards
grabbed him under his arms, and hustled him forward. A stiff
wind sprang up as his feet crunched against the gravel
driveway. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.

McKenna began to feel nauseous, the sensation becoming worse
with every stride. He pushed it down and allowed the guards
to propel him forward, up to the double glass doors and into
the cool, silent interior.

The lobby was spacious and subtly lit. A young woman stepped
out from behind the reception desk. She seemed a little
startled by their presence. "Can I help you?"

"We have a delivery for Delkap," the first guard said loudly.
"Get her."

"Doctor Delkap is busy, I can arrange for in-processing--"

"She'll want to process this one herself. Get her."

The receptionist nodded, and picked up the phone. "Who shall
I say is being admitted?"

"Douglas McKenna," the guard said. He looked at Mac and
grinned. "It'll all be over soon. Don't worry."

Before the man could elaborate, a stately blonde woman in a
three-piece suit appeared from the entrance to the hallway.
"Gentlemen. I'm glad to see you." Her eyes ran up and down
Mac. "Thank you for returning my merchandise. You may go
now."

"But ma'am, he's not cuffed and-"

"Go. I can handle him." She waited until they shuffled back
out, then turned and smiled at Mac, as if genuinely glad to
see him. "Douglas ... We've been expecting you. Please, come
this way..."

Mac swallowed and stood firm. "Leona ... where is she?" His
voice came out shaky, not confident as he planned.

"Ah, Douglas. Still resistant. We're going to change that."

"I want to see Leona," Mac insisted.

"Leona Ayers is in safe keeping. If you'd like her to stay
that way, you'll do exactly as I say."

Douglas swallowed the lump in his throat. He found a
terrifying familiarity simply in the woman's voice. "Where is
she?"

"All in good time, Douglas."

Mac's head started pounding. He licked his lips, fought the
wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him, and
reached deep inside. "Where. Is. She. Tell me!"

Delkap looked startled, and said, "I don't have--" before
regaining control and shaking her head with a faint smile.
"Interesting. But not enough. You can't do a thing to me. I
*own* you, Douglas. I own Leona Ayers. I own your unborn
child. You will do exactly as I say, or I will kill them.
Starting with the child, of course. Do you understand me?"
She gave him a gentle smile, one reserved for misbehaving
little boys.

"You'll never own me ... You are *not* going to hurt them..."
Determined, Mac took a step towards the amused woman, then
another. But with each step his destination grew fainter ...
more distant. Until all he could see was black.

He hit the floor. Outside, the thunder cracked loudly
directly overhead. The storm had arrived in earnest.


End part 14/18