Quis Custodiet (7/?) by Lee Burwasser WEEK TWO (Monday) After a quiet weekend, Scully decided to take up Skinner on family leave. She had thought to continue going to work until she could no longer reach the steering wheel, but her feet decreed differently, even with Mulder's sybaritic foot rubs. And she couldn't keep imposing on her mother and the guys for day care. While she was at it, she asked permission to see the medical record of his encounter with the Bounty Hunter. He agreed to take it to her and asked if she had the report on the "clean-up" of the "toxic spill" in the hospital. Was he that eager to sic her onto the nearly nonexistent biological data, or just hoped to keep her quiet by giving her a bigger fix of puzzle? Returning from the sedate exercise of a walk around the block with Mulder, she found a message from Curtis Danford. He had just arrived at National Airport, and had an appointment with Janet Walesa and Banner at noon. After that, he would like to call at her place and talk about something that probably needed attention. ### "If I keep on having appointments here," said Jan, "I'll have to train Banner to carry a dictaphone," "I've heard of training them to pull carts," said Danford. Curtis Danford was spare, medium-tall, more salt than pepper in his hair. The Vietnam War generation. He wore well-tailored tweeds and stout, well-made shoes. He seemed unafraid of Banner. "So," said Jan, "what brings you to Virginia?" "First off, this." He handed her a folded sheet of paper. Jan unfolded it, seeing that there was longhand on both sides. Starting with the side that had been folded inward, she saw "The attached" with "attached" lined out and "reverse" neatly printed over it. "[Date and time.] The reverse is a photocopy of my notes of a visit from Agents Brown and Eccles [full names and badge numbers in parentheses] to my office in Boston, set down immediately after the visit. [signiture] The above signiture was made in our presence on [date] at [time]. [signiture] [signiture]" Jan went over the notes, admiring how little specific information Danford actually gave out. Though the common wisdom was that *nothing* you tell the FBI is innocuous, he had kept it down mostly to what anyone could learn, filling in with generalities. She focused on the specific information that had been bedeviling her: "Joint account?" "I thought she was requesting assistance, not permission. Never occurred to me that Fox might not have told her about it, and it's too late to ask Fox." Jan handed the paper back to him, but he waved her to keep it. "I've made another copy for Agent Scully." "And the other reason?" He took a pipe from his pocket, gazed at it and replaced it unlit. The pipe was well-seasoned; Jan wondered if he was breaking himself, or didn't smoke in front of ladies. "A seemingly innocuous question: how did word get to my partner's client in Boston so fast? Leading to a few more: If he got it from the FBI, why did the Bureau hold off an extra day before tackling me? And why tell him at all? Is he their stalking horse? Does he know it? And if so, for what?" "How did it get to you?" "Faxed. With a note that she was sending the rest of the notifications by registered mail, and would I confirm that I got mine OK." "Can I expect communication from your partner's client?" "Ah." His hand went back into the pocket with the pipe, but came out empty. "I certainly hope wiser heads will prevail." "We can always hope." ### Skinner brought the Bounty Hunter data to Scully over his lunch hour. After coffee (decaf) they got down to business. "How do we zap them with whatever you come up with?" he asked. "The army is working on non-lethals, but we should aim at something that will go in a standard animal-control dart. Known technology, and a large pool of potential instructors. But first we have to work on taking samples." "You mentioned probes." "Yes, but we also want to carry tongs, to pull cloth or other material away from the corpse before it gets completely dissolved. Both design and material will need thought, because we can expect to lose a bit off the end each time we use them." Something tickled the back of Skinner's head. "The fumes from the live one burned like hell," he said slowly, "yet you and Doggett weren't even marked by the dead one. But there's bound to be some sort of fumes if the thing's corroding into a puddle . . ." "Yes," said Scully. "There are definitely two separate processes. Autolysis doesn't release enough volatiles to damage a person, but there must be enough to show on delicate enough instruments. A chromatograph, like the ones for detecting toxic vapor, mounted on a stand to keep it over the body without touching it." Then she said, "Oh," and looked contrite. She stood, pulled Skinner to his feet and placed them so Mulder could see what they were doing. She made a gun of her hand, 'shot' Skinner, and clapped hands over her eyes, miming pain. Skinner mimed pushing her forcefully, and she flung up her arms and mimed being flung to the floor, where she used both hands to 'shoot' him again. "Stand still, now," she called. Skinner stood instead of dropping. Scully scrambled to her feet, only slightly hampered by pregnancy, and traced the trajectory of the bullet from her position up under Skinner's chin and presumably out the back of his head. He felt her touch at his nape. Then she was turning Mulder so she could trace on his head the position of the brain stem. Mulder nodded, mimed a rifle, grabbed Scully and pressed a finger to the back of her head. He pushed her away from him and posed for a moment ready for a racing dive. "Yes, he remembers," said Scully, clapping Mulder on the back. "The sharpshooters tried to get the Bounty Hunter while he tried to trade me for Samantha. The Samantha clone." Skinner was thinking about something else. "All this will make you more dangerous, and more of a target," he said, "than desk work." "I can still shoot, and so can Mulder, though we should spend some time at the range soon. And who'll watch the watchmen?" "There have to be at least three more reliable agents in the Hoover Building." Scully spread her hands, then smiled wryly. "I've been thinking about moving the fish over here," she confessed. "Get everything vulnerable under one roof." "Good idea; fewer predictable journies." # A knock at the door brought both of them to their feet, weapons drawn. Mulder went to the door, checked the spy hole, and opened it. As he did so, he moved out of Scully's direct line of fire, but not Skinner's. A carrying baritone said, "Hello, Fox," and Curtis Danford stepped into the apartment. At the sight of Scully's SIG, he stopped still until she put it away, then turned to Mulder to shake hands. After a curious look at Skinner, he turned back to Scully and said, "You're more vigilant than when I saw you last." "I've got three to protect, now," she said, "and Mulder's incapacity is no accident." She gestured at Skinner. "This is my boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Sir, this is Curtis Danford, Mulder's attorney." Danford stiffened, one might say bristled, at the introduction. He handed Skinner a folded sheet of paper, another one to Scully. They read both sides and looked at each other. Both looked at Danford, who said, "I am curious about why Fox didn't tell you. So is Ms Walesa." "Whan did he do this?" she asked "Nineteen ninety-five." "Mm." She nodded. "He's improved since then at keeping me in the loop." Seeing that she had nothing more to say on that, Danford turned a more challenging look on Skinner. The AD was studying Danford. "This is a dangerous business, Mr Danford," he said. "If it weren't, the Famous But Incompetent wouldn't be trying to intimidate me. Clearly it's more than making arrangements to look after a disabled agent." Scully slapped the paper down on the coffee table and surged to her feet. "If those bastards had any sense, they'd let us alone! Do they think I'm going to drag Mulder on the trail of their damned conspiracy when he can't even call for help?" Skinner said slowly, "Didn't you say there are ideographic or pictographic systems of nonverbal graphic communication?" Scully nodded. "Mr Suominen mentioned C-ViC and the Blissymbols." "Which you are going to explore, one after another, until you and Mulder can communicate complex and concrete ideas as well as you did with words. Even if you have to be his interpreter for the rest of us, he will eventually be able to discuss the cases." "Yes. It's going to take time, even once we settle on a suitable system, but yes, eventually." "So they don't dare leave him in your hands. First because they can't stand not controlling people; second, because they don't dare let him develop full communication; and third, because they want him in some sense-deprived institution instead of living at home and being as independent as he can be." Scully was apalled. Then she was enraged. "Those bastards!" she exploded. "Yes, I bet you're right on all three, whether Spender's alive or dead." Danford studied his pipe again. "Are these the human experimenters that Fox was fighting?" Into the sounding silence that resulted, he asked Scully, "Do you trust him?" with a nod toward Skinner. "I trust his intentions. I wouldn't expect him to withstand torture, unless other lives were on the line." Danford nodded. "Did Fox ever tell you what he did with what he inherited from his father?" "I know that his father worked with the Consortium, at first willingly and then under duress. When he got up the nerve to confess to Mulder, the Consortium murdered him." She exchanged grim looks with Mulder, then turned back to Danford. "From your question, I deduce that he dedicated his father's money to fighting the Consortium, specifically their human experiments." Danford nodded. "Good deduction." He turned to Skinner. "I know these are dangerous men. And while I'm not a gun-toting peace officer, neither am I a helpless weakling." Skinner nodded in his turn. "There's only one explanation that makes sense of what's happened," he said. "The Consortium learned about Scully's petition from a mole in the Hoover Building. Someone in Boston, or somewhere in New England, knew that Mr Kupier could be used as a stalking horse. Someone, the same or another, feared you enough to send in a pair of bullies. As bad a mistake as sending Scully in to debunk Mulder, going on eight years ago. " "What will you do?" "To start with, I'm going to play 'Bad Cop, Bad Cop' with a pair of clumsy agents." (Tuesday) Jeeze, the things some people ask! No, lady, nobody teaches first aid for fish. Spend as little time in transit as you can, and keep the temperature as constant as you can. Shows her heart's in the right place, anyway. (Along with everything else: handsome woman.) And she bought a supply of food and a small bowl for moving them. Not all loss. ### Scully set up an appointment with her OB. She was lucky to get a cancellation slot. Then she called Walesa, and they spent an hour fitting schedules together. Walesa had arranged evaluation and an observer, and was in the midst of setting up imaging sessions. PET scan, as expected, was a scheduling nightmare in itself. ### Skinner turned back to the summary sheets of the files on Agents Brown and Eccles, and had Kim call the Boston office and get him the SAC. "I've been handed a written allegation that Agents Eccles and Brown, presumably from the Boston office, attempted to intimidate one Curtis Danford, a lawyer. And did a rotten job." "Uhm, do you want to wait, sir, while I see if they're in the office at present?" "Do that, thank you." In record time, the voice was back. "I'm putting you on speakerphone now, sir." There was a click. "Agents Brown and Eccles?" he asked. "Yes, sir," came two out-of-synch voices. "What the hell did you do at Danford's office?" "He was ready for us, sir. Insisted right at the start on taking down our names and badge numbers." "And knowing his wariness, you told him -- he has this in quotation marks -- 'Perhaps you'd like to instruct the grand jury.' He didn't put down his response, but I deduce that he loved the idea." "He said he was used to it, and thought he did well." "And you nailed down exactly one fact -- the joint account -- that couldn't have been picked up by any janitor at the Hoover Building." "Sir, our assignment was to pick up anything on Agent Mulder and his partner, but he doesn't have any connections in New England any more. And she never did. Just that lawyer. Who is a goddamned paranoid." "Maybe he taught Mulder. Did you by any chance check him out *before* you strolled into his den?" "Family lawyer, some pro bono work. The usual legal publications, plus a few papers on the Underground Railroad in New Bedford and a couple on his family. Whalers. Belongs to that Boston human rights group, Global Lawyers and Physicians." "All right, you did some homework. Get your report out pronto, and send a copy to me. AD Skinner, CID." "Yes, sir." Skinner hung up and noted the time. He'd give Kersh fifteen minutes to think up a pretext to call him, then go in himself. # Walesa did not like being jerked around the Metropolitan Area, but since Skinner was doing her a favor, the least she could do was make the appointment on time. And pick up Agents Scully and Mulder along the way. AD Skinner was happy to add them to the mix. DD Kersh was not. "What is this all about?" he asked, scowling impartially at all four of them. Walesa set a folded sheet of paper on Kersh's desk and said, "I'm hoping we won't need this, sir." Wouldn't hurt to start off polite. "I have been appointed Agent Mulder's guardian ad litem; it is my duty to protect his interests. Owing to his incapacity, I'm having a hard time figuring out what his interests are. However, since Agent Scully has petitioned to be appointed his guardian, one factor will obviously be the quality of decisions she makes in his behalf. And since she has acted for him unofficially since he was kidnapped, we have in her past decisions the best evidence for the quality we can expect of her future ones. But in order to ascertain the quality of those past decisions, I need to know the circumstances under which they were made." "Why not ask Agent Scully?" "I have. She feels that those circumstances are so entangled with what you have ordered her not to discuss that she needs your permission to tell me." Kersh glared at Scully. "Very well, Agent Scully, tell her." "Thank you, sir," said Scully. She continued, to Walesa, "When Mulder and the Bellefleurans were kidnapped, there was of course a manhunt for him. It failed, as you know. The captives were returned when their kidnappers felt like returning them. More accurately, I should say that the Oregon end of the manhunt failed. There was also a hunt on the east coast for evidence that Mulder had willfully gone AWOL. Enough suggestive evidence was brought in that the Bureau froze his leave and health benefits. This, naturally, worried me. Rather than draw on his salary, which might also be frozen at any time, I tapped his emergency fund in Boston." "I see," said Walesa. "You mentioned that the irregularities were resolved?" "Yes. His return with the other captives rendered the AWOL theory untenable, and his leave and benefits have been restored retroactively." "So all's well that ends well." Walesa turned back to face Kersh, picked up the folded paper from his desk and returned it to her pocket. "I'm happy we could work this out amicably, sir." Kersh stood abruptly. "So am I. Skinner can show you out." They all took the hint and left the office. # Walesa offered Scully and Mulder a lift home, which Scully declined with thanks. "We're going to take some exercise on the Mall," she said. Meanwhile, Mulder shook a frizbee out of his leather jacket and handed it to Scully before donning the jacket and engaging the bottom few inches of the zipper. She handed it back, and he tucked it away under the leather. Skinner checked his watch, turning the face toward Scully and unobtrusively tapping the numeral three. Scully nodded. Sure enough, Skinner, Harrison and Doggett converged on the Mall to find Scully and Mulder tossing the frizbee back and forth. Mulder had amaising control over the thing, keeping its trajectory from touching down long distances beyond Scully. She had less accuracy, and as the three men came up, Mulder levitated to catch it. When he threw it back, it looped away from Scully and passed close enough to Skinner for him to take two sidesteps and grab it. Scully smiled at him. "Dance like a butterfly, sting like a bee." Skinner, who was indeed an amateur boxer, grinned wryly as he handed the frisbee to her. She handed it off to Mulder and glanced inquiringly at the three. "Confession and apology time," said Harrison. "I thought the evidence tampering would have a fairly quick fix. That basically, you were screwing up on evidence security. But the Mafia really have taken over City Hall. The one most effective measure, sending in a team big enough and armed heavily enough to stand off a car-and-helcopter ambush, couldn't be hidden from moles." "Why do I get this feeling that you're about to suggest something illegal?" asked Scully. "Because we're both FBI, tarred with the same brush. And a lot of Hoover's illegal tactics were not *inherently* illegal. They would have been legal if he'd gotten permission first." "Wiretapping the Consortium is hardly practical. Nor is a mail cover. Hacking their systems, maybe." Skinner saw her glance guiltily and Mulder and away again. "In fact, the only thing with any good chance of working is a bag job, and that *is* inherently illegal." "But not inherently immoral," said Harrison. "Not against a multinational that systematically abducts and abuses American citizens, that has corrupted and bought the American federal government and the American military service --" "I KNOW what the Consortium has done!" she cried. "When I signed up, I was assured that Hoover's abuses had been reformed. I was pretty green to have bought it, but I live with the knowledge. I will not live with becoming a Hoover myself." Doggett nodded. "Camel's nose," he said. "There are two significant differences between us and Hoover," said Harrison. "First, we are not trying to silence dissenters; we're trying to stop physical abuse of innocent civilians. Second, we have none of Hoover's immunity; if we get caught, we get thrown to the wolves as 'rogue agents.' No one will automatically take our word against Joe Citizen's." "Agent Scully," said Skinner, "suppose I broke into Krycek's rooms and stole the trigger for the nanomachines? Could that be justified?" "Yes. Effectively, Krycek has you at gunpoint 24/7." Skinner exchanged a grim look with Harrison, who finally nodded. "Since we can't ask a judge for a warrant, we need a substitute. We don't do a bag job without consulting you that we have probable cause to believe the target is in fact a member or minion of the Consortium. If we can't convince you, we don't do the job. And to make assurance doubly sure, another review after the job. If you decide the man wasn't Consortium after all, we destroy what we took and never use it." "You want me to be your conscience." "What else are you now?" She closed her eyes in a face now deathly pale. Skinner saw a sheen of sweat on her brow. At last she nodded. "Yes," she said. Just before the counter-conspirators split up, Scully asked Skinner, "Sir? Do you know if Mulder ever profiled a sexual sadist?" "No, why?" "It struck me recently that Spender's head games, the pleasure he takes in dominating people, is very like a rapist's motives: dominate, humiliate, control. And his claim to like Mulder, to have saved him, is very like a rapist's claim that his victim needed to be violated and enjoyed it. Spender is simply sophisticated enough to prefer psychological to physical violation." ### When the partners were alone, Mulder made guns of his hands and 'fired' right-left-right to show he wanted to go to the Gunmen's place. Scully had no objection. The guys made no delays unlocking their door. Langly, smug in his nonverbal kung-fu, gestured to one of the computers and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Mulder nodded, and mimed putting down Identikit transparencies. Langly brought up the Identikit program and turned the mouse over to Mulder, who made Agent Henderson's face and looked inquiringly at Scully. "That's Agent Henderson, from the Field Office," she said. "Ah-hah." Langly rubbed his hands and took over the mouse. He did something with the picture that let him move it as a single figure into one corner of the screen. Then he brought up a map of downtown DC and zoomed in on the address of the Hoover Building. He pulled from the image archive a picture of the Hoover exterior and set it on the map at the building site. Skinner, Scully and Mulder's faces went below the building. At this point he turned the mouse over to Scully, who slowly and carefully 'walked' the cursor along the streets to the site of the Memorial Building and the Washington Metropolitan Field Office. She turned the mouse back to Langly, who put Harrison's face on the map. Mulder nodded in comprehension, then turned to Scully with an exaggeratedly puzzled look and mimed talking with his hands. She turned back to Langly and said, "Bag jobs and other illegalities." Langly nodded, put Harrison's face back in the corner, and wiped the map. He brought up what looked like a magazine cover, with a man climbing in a window carrying a black bag. After a bit of -- well, it looked like he was rummaging in memory -- he replaced the man's face with J. Edgar Hoover's. When Mulder nodded confirmation, he replaced Hoover's face with Harrison's. Mulder made a face, but nodded confirmation again. He turned to Scully and took both her hands in his, staring into her eyes with a concerned, worried expression. Clearly he wasn't happy with the idea of getting her involved in illegal action. She squeezed his hands reassuringly as she looked toward Langly. "Your kung-fu is still the best," she said. [WEEK TWO continues in part 8] Quis Custodiet (8/?) by Lee Burwasser WEEK TWO continued (Wednesday) Walesa finally settled on a speech pathologist with the unfortunate name of 'Bowser' to do the evaluation. Clearly, Agent Scully was unhappy about leaving Agent Mulder alone with him. That could be for the usual reason, or for, well, the other usual reason: cops hate to leave their partners' backs unguarded. Agent Scully did not stall or complain. She showed her partner on the face of her watch how long she would be gone. Agent Mulder was *very* unhappy when he worked out that it would be over two hours. Agent Scully then stalked over to Dr Bowser. "I fully understand," she said, "why I have to leave my partner alone with someone whom I haven't been allowed to know long enough in advance to do a background check. You had better understand this: Mulder is still an agent of the FBI. If you're working for the Black-Lunged Bastard or his successors, if I find Mulder in any way traumatised or brutalised, physically or psychologically, you will discover that the Smoking Bastard is not all-powerful. Whatever he told you, the fix is NOT in. Clear?" "Quite clear, Agent Scully," said Bowser dryly. "Where will you be for the duration?" Walesa asked her. "At Mr Danford's hotel." "You might want to share this," said Walesa, and handed Agent Scully a piece of paper. "One Mr Leonard Kupier, of Boston, is contesting your petition." ### Danford's hotel room turned out to be a suite. Evidently, Danford did not receive guests in his bedroom. A table with paperwork and stray cups and saucers showed where he and Lippsett (of Lippsett and Gregson) had been conferring, and a much-depleted cart was the apparent source of everything but the paperwork. The conference was either over or deferred. Danford welcomed Scully into the room, saying, "You remember Arnold Lippsett, of course. The house caterer has sent up a recommended selection, guaranteed caffeine-free. Where's Fox?" "Thank you. Hello, Mr Lippsett. Mulder is in psychological evaluation. They told me to come back in a couple of hours." She frowned briefly before she could banish it and pay proper attention to the rack of teas and a couple of decaff coffees. Lippsett put in, "If Janet Walesa's there, you needn't worry. She's not called 'Pit-Bull' for nothing." Scully forced a smile. "If she were armed, I'd trust her to watch his back, but the purest heart is no substitute for a SIG Sauer and time on the range." "I'm Curtis's figurehead," Lippsett went on, chattily. "He can't practice in Virginia without a resident associate." "Speaking of practice . . ." Scully told them about the new development, and handed them the official notice. "Race Benbow," said Danford, disapprovingly. "Not a referral?" asked Scully. "No. Oh, no. David advised Leonard to drop it." He got his well-seasoned pipe from his pocket and stared at it, then said, apparently out of the air, "Teena Kupier had class." Scully said nothing. She was not going to argue about a dead woman. He put the pipe away and went on, "So do you. Entirely different style, but the same class. Maybe that's what draws Fox. Teena was a Brahman, even when she was serving Bill's guests. You're a Marine, even pregnant." "Navy," she corrected him. "Navy," he smiled back. "Walesa's a pit bull," he went on. "Benbow's a hired gun, a hit man. This is going to be something to watch." ### Suominen was pretty good at nonverbal communication himself. Especially reading body language. "Dr Scully, you have to take care of yourself, too," he said as she led her partner into his office. She made a wry grimace. "It's been a stressful day." They both sat down, and she went on, "I just want the hearing to be over." "If you win, that will cut down the stress, but caring for an aphasic is not an easy job. Eventually, you'll have to hire a professional caretaker to help you. Putting that off until both your lives are calmer is a good idea, but not if you put it off too long." "Moving him clean out of his own home is not making his life any calmer." "Moving him to a familiar place with good memories and associations cuts down the stress of disruption. You've been doing the best you can. You must not let yourself feel that you've let him down, because you had to make compromises. Or because you can't do it all yourself." "How do I tell him that his mom's cousin Kupier is contesting my petition?" "That sounds like a job for Mr Langly's program," Suominen said. "He's used to the style. Booting up the workstation and loading Langly's program, Suominen set up an articulated stick figure and put Mulder's head on it, slightly oversized. Mulder stared at it and pointed to himself. Suominen nodded, and drew a short line up from the Mulder-figure, then a horizontal one across it. Two primitive stick figures, one with a skirt, went on either end of the crossbar. Suominen looked up and asked, "Was she a Kupier?" "Yes." A series of vertical and horizontal lines with bare male/female icons, and at last another articulated stick figure. Suominen put the male-ikon arrow on the figure's head. Mulder snorted laughter. Scully said, "I think you just called Cousin Kupier a dickhead." Suominen stared, laughed himself, and replaced the male symbol with a blue circle. Scully forbore to mention blue balls. Mulder recognised a family tree, and counted up from the Mulder-figure and down to the other articulated one. Scully counted up and then down herself; generations and sexes both right, making the blue-circle figure a Kupier and Teena Mulder's cousin. A nod of comprehension from Mulder. Suominen pushed a function key that wiped out everything but the two articulated figures. (Ah, that's why the Bill and Teena figures were more primitive.) He put a third articulated figure next to the Mulder, and put Scully's head on it. Mulder nodded comprehension again, stroking Scully's hair. The next figure was a distant descendent of the primitive judge-figure in Langly's first stick-figure picture. This one was recognisable without miming use of the gavel. Mulder frowned worriedly at Scully; clearly he realised now that this had something to do with the hearing. A paper went into the hand of the cousin-figure. A line slashed down from it to the space between the Mulder-figure and the Scully-figure. Suominen turned from the workstation to push the two of them apart. Mulder tapped Suominen on the chest, then the Cousin Kupier figure. Suominen nodded and stepped back to let Mulder take Scully's hands in his. "He won't succeed," said Scully. Mulder gave her a feral grin. He squeezed her hands, then released them to wipe the computer screen and dust his own hands together. "As long as he doesn't get complacent," said Suominen. "Thank you," said Scully. "I'm sorry to have disrupted the session." "Think of it as occupational therapy." # The hearing room was a huge echoing hall. She couldn't hear the judge's words, only the sound of his voice. The gavel cracked, echoing throughout the hall. Two men grabbed hold of Mulder and pulled him away. A mob of strangers crowded between them, carrying the three men off and pushing her away from them. "Mulder!" she cried. "Mulder!" She could see a disturbance in the crowd as Mulder tried to fight free of the men. The crowd was ever thicker, the disturbance receding behind the human mass. "Mulder!" A sterile, institutional room. Mulder trying to follow her out the door. Orderlies holding him back. Mulder's cries of rage dying to hopeless whimpers. "Mulder!" Scully jolted awake to a scene of deja vu: Mulder was a whimpering shadow beside her bed. The difference was that this time he was timidly stroking her. She fumbled at the bedclothes with hands shaking from the adrenaline slowly ebbing from her system. At last she got the invitation across, and Mulder slid in with her. They ended with him spooned up behind her, his arm protectively across her and their child. She interlaced her fingers with his. Slowly, the whimpers subsided into his distressed coo. We have to win this one, she thought; losing is not an option. Mulder's wordless crooning carried her back into sleep. # }Herself-warm-snug-safe{ }belly-big-bigger{ }spooned-warm-snug-safe-safe{ # (Thursday) The next day began imaging: EEG and CAT. Since her presence could hardly affect the machines, Walesa allowed Agent Scully to be present as long as she said nothing and stayed out of Agent Mulder's line of sight while the imaging was in process. She thanked her for the indulgence, clearly realising that she could just as easily have been excluded from these sessions, too. The EEG tech frowned at the result and then at his equipment. He did some tweaking and checked over the electrodes and ran everything again. Then he frowned at the new results the same way. "Something wrong?" asked Walesa. "This," said the tech, pointing at a line of squiggles. "It looks almost like alpha rhythm, but it's in the wrong place, and his eyes are open." "Is it a what-do-you-call-it, artifact?" "No artifact I've ever seen." The two went into a huddle, then the tech started the printer spewing out hard-copy of the digital file. Walesa, more used to pen-on-paper graphs, stared at the output bin as the technician sat at another table and began writing a short notice of the problem in longhand. Walesa gathered up the hard copy from the bin and brought it to the technician. She witnessed his signature on the notice, and on each page of the hard copy. She looked up at her respondent, and saw him playing Owl Eyes with the petitioner. Turning back to thank the technician, she met an amused headshake, which she returned, also shaking his hand. She collected her charge -- or charges -- and headed for the CT scan. While waiting in the CT observation room, Scully asked Walesa softly, "Why so long to get evaluation and imaging? What were you waiting for?" "The records from Oregon," said Walesa without taking her eyes from the observation window. She hesitated before continuing, "I want to talk to you after this is over." Her lips twitched in a wry grin. "My horse is growing stripes." "Enough of them to drop in at my place? I'd like to get him to a less stressful environment after all this." "I think so." The CAT technician reported all normal. "A mostly-undamaged brain," he said. "I wouldn't know it from any other normal brain except for this old contusion in the right temporal lobe." Again, they waited while the technician hand-wrote a short notice of the results, including the identification of the copies of the image. As they headed out to pick up their observer, May Bennett, from Walesa's chosen DNA lab, Janet noticed Scully frowning in abstraction. She also noticed Mulder staring worriedly at his partner and stroking her arm. "What is it?" "I don't recall anyone in Oregon noticing that old contusion." "Would they have mentioned it? -- or you have noticed? -- with your attention on your partner's troubles?" "Hm. Maybe not. But I think I know what it is. A couple of years ago, the Consortium forced a completely illegal and barely competent surgical procedure on him. The target was his 'god module,' the right temporal lobe. He was lucky to have survived, let alone recovered." "God module?" "A highly controversial concept. But madmen with power are still madmen." On the first leg of their round trip to Georgetown University Medical Center, Ms Bennett asked why the extra security precautions. Walesa and Scully looked at each other; Scully fielded the question. "Law enforcement officers make enemies, many of them violent and some of them clever. Agent Mulder has made some very powerful enemies, who have been known to tamper with evidence." At the center, Scully's OB did an ultrasound. "You realise that this is crowding the window," she said as she brought up the fetal picture. "Twenty weeks is the outside limit." She peered at the screen. "Still, the placement is good . . ." Finally, she said, "All right. You're fortunate that we now have ultrasound guidance, and small needles with atraumatic tips. A few decades ago, this would have been too much of a risk." Positioning took about twenty minutes. The procedure itself took about five. Minor cramping subsided in a few minutes, but the OB insisted on her patient resting another half-hour. Meanwhile, Walesa and Bennett prepared the first steps of evidence security and recording the chain of custody. Next stop the center's lab, to get a sample of Mulder's blood. As Walesa had come to expect, he hammed it up, holding out his arm, turning his head away and screwing his eyes shut. At Ms Bennett's suggestion, they took a sample of Scully's blood as well; the mother's blood was not necessary for a paternity test, but it was the usual procedure at her lab. More security and custody precautions, and they headed back to the lab where Ms Bennet worked. The routine security was impressive. Legal cases, and sometimes a good deal of money, often rode on their results. But it was routine, not designed to hold off a practiced black ops team of evidence tamperers. Walesa produced a small lockbox with a number pad. "The samples should fit in here," she said. Sure enough, they did. "Set the combination (we'll go over the instructions), lock them into the box and put the box inside the vault. There's a screamer that will go off at the third failed attempt at the combination, or any attempt to break the lock or break into the box." "What if they just take the box?" said Ms Bennett. She was clearly familiar with security precautions, as a tech in a lab like this should be. "A lot more difficult than getting a single vial out. Much more conspicuous on any detector, including bare eyeballs." At this point, Scully asked Ms Bennet, "Can you do anything to shorten the turnaround time?" "I think we can cut it down to a week. I'll start the culturing, and a PCR instead of an RFLP on the adult samples, this afternoon." # As the three entered the Georgetown apartment, Mulder took everyone's jackets and turned toward the closet. When he had it opened, he looked back at Scully and pointed firmly at the couch. Scully folded her hands, put on a demure face and led Walesa to the couch while Mulder finished hanging things up. "Mulder is the guardian of my feet," she told Walesa. "Take your shoes off." Walesa took a chair and pointed as firmly to Scully's feet and then to the empty couch cushion. When Scully obediently put her feet up, she said, "If he's amenable, you might get him lessons in back rubs." Now Mulder turned on the CD player and brought a card to the ladies. With what now seemed typical hamming, he played up the maitre d'hotel in presenting them with a card of pictures or ikons. "Coffee's decaff for the duration," said Scully. "And the tea is herbal." Right, ikons of beverages. Walesa touched the old-fashioned percolator. "I can take caffeine pills." Scully touched the teapot with some sort of herb painted on it. Mulder bowed, flourished the card, and betook himself to the kitchen. Walesa looked after him, then at the CD player. "What's that?" she asked. The music?" "Second Brandenburg Concerto." "You know them by number?" "That one went along on the Voyager. It's one of Mulder's favorites." "Mm," said Walesa, glancing back toward the kitchen. "Letting him feel useful?" "Close. Giving him control over part of his life. Mr Suominen is quite emphatic about that. He must feel as much in control as he can, and he must *not* feel that he's completely lost control, that he's helpless and has no say or vote." "That's . . . not a good way to feel," agreed Walesa. Scully looked into the distance, and her mouth quirked in a grimace that was nothing like a smile. "That's why I was ready to shoot Doggett. He was just going to take charge, take control away from me, lay down the law and dismiss anything I had to say about it. I bit his head off. He might have dismissed that, too, but Skinner came in and held him for me." "So you put Mulder in charge of the mood music and the 'coffee, tea, or milk,' and you give him control over your feet . . ." "Things well within his capabilities, and important in their way." "Yet the ultimate control is yours. You decide what he's permitted to be in charge of." "He's still recovering. After he's over the trauma of captivity, he'll still be learning to cope with aphasia." "Mm," said Walesa, and finally launched into Topic A: "When did you learn just how much money Mulder has?" "When . . .?" Scully mused. "Well, I always knew he had something beyond his salary. You don't get Armani suits on clothing allowance. And his parents' real estate . . ." She stared off a minute. "The Antarctic run, I guess. Kersh is such a goddamned bully . . . Cancer didn't leave me much of an economic safety net, and he really enjoyed twisting the knife . . . I hate people who hit me to hurt Mulder . . ." When it was clear Scully had run down entirely, Walesa asked gently, "Why keep to the civil-service lifestyle? Fooling the parasites?" "Not really. He doesn't want what most people spend money on. Expensive suits, but nothing else, and the expense is in quality, not flash. His work -- his quest is his indulgence." After a few moments of silent staring: "He'll go mad." "Why so?" said Walesa as gently as before. "They could win. He'll go mad if they stuff him into an institution. All they have to do is set off the screamer and get out. Who's going to believe it wasn't me? Sure, I can prove after the birth, but by then Cousin Stalking Horse will have won, and the Consortium will have him." Mulder sat next to her on the couch, stroking her and making little distressed cooing sounds. "Kupier doesn't care for him, doesn't even know him. He'll hire professionals, each one of them a target for the Consortium to suborn, or kill to make room for an easier one. Even if they let me visit, it's going to be hell when I leave . . . each time I leave . . ." Mulder was whimpering now. Walesa lowered her voice even further. "What happens then?" "He tries to leave with me. The orderlies hold him back. He fights them, crying out in anger, but they drag him away. He's helpless, he just whimpers. And I stand still. I call after him, but I don't move." "Paralysis dream," said Walesa. "You must have been waking up." "Yes. I was hearing Mulder. He was . . . He . . ." She shook her head sharply and sat up. "What was I saying?" "I think you hypnotised yourself, and remembered a dream, a nightmare." "My nightmare yesterday. I don't need hypnoregression to remember that." "Have you got any evidence against this Consortium?" "Just my experience. And Mulder's, and Skinner's." [WEEK TWO concludes (it better!) in part 9] Quis Custodiet (9/?) by Lee Burwasser WEEK TWO concluded (Friday) More imaging the next day, this time the MRI. It went as well as the CT scan, and with the same all-well report, in writing. This technician too mentioned the old contusion in the right temporal lobe. Walesa had looked up the 'god module' the night before. She agreed with Agent Scully: madmen with power are still madmen. ### One thing Curtis Danford liked about convention hotels was the suites. No way was he about to let the likes of Benbow into his bedroom, nor was he going to break bread with him. A chair in the public room was quite enough hospitality for a hit man. But a call to room service would turn the public room into a civilised sort of place to entertain Fox's Dana Scully. Though no doubt FBI agents had to eat in every sort of place from greasy spoons to four-star restaurants, a lady deserved tea in a civilised setting. "That the slut?" said Benbow. "No, these are Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder of the FBI. This is Horace Benbow, who enjoys the reputation of a hired gun." "And I'm hired to see that no Irish Catholic navy brat gets hold of Kupier money." Scully turned to Danford and said mildly, "Here I thought the Danfords were English whalers." Danford smiled appreciation at her comeback, then turned to Benbow. "You're going to have a hard time discrediting Agent Scully." "A bimbo who gets herself knocked up? She's discredited herself already." Danford shook his head in disappointment. "Believing your own propaganda is dangerous." He turned to Scully. "How long have people been taking you and Fox for a married couple?" "Almost as long as we've been partners." He turned back to Benbow. "And they still do. If Dana were ashamed of her pregnancy, everyone would make the assumption you expect. Since she acts quite pleased with it, and with herself, everyone who sees her alone assumes she has a husband somewhere, and if they see her with Fox they assume that he's it." Danford smiled at Dana Scully smiling up at Fox and stroking the swell of her belly while Fox smiled down at her. A glance at Benbow showed the hit man thinking hard. "You really ought to listen to her." "I'm always listening," said Benbow. Dana took him at his word. "Your client has been deliberately frightened into becoming the stalking horse of a criminal syndicate that Mulder has been fighting for years. We don't know if they had any part in rendering him aphasic, but they certainly know about it, and are determined to bring him under their control. They know enough about Mr Kupier to psych him out, get him to front for them, probably without even realising it." "Quite a story," said Benbow. "No little green men?" "Grey," said Scully, with a suspiciously innocent expression. "What's that?" "Not green. Grey." Danford gave a slightly exaggerated sigh. "Back in the Sixties, there were all different kinds: Nordics, Giants, Greys -- sounded like a league of baseball teams. And there were goodguys as well as badguys. Now it's all Greys, and all invading. Dull." Benbow shrugged him off, and told Scully, "I'll pass on your warning to my client, but don't expect him to pay attention." She was all seriousness again. "Despite having disowned his cousin for her marriage, Mr Kupier might still have some feeling for her son. I wonder if he realises the work and stress involved in caring for an aphasic. Or the paperwork involved in guardianship. If he's planning to dump the guardianship off on some professional and the care on some nursing home, he might as well withdraw now, because I will not abandon Mulder even if I lose this round of the fight. If he is an any way neglected or abused, I will raise a stink you can smell in Boston. "And I won't wait that long to check out everyone involved. I will not be satisfied by an association's reputation; I will check the people who actually work with Mulder. I will especially check to see if anyone has hooks into them." "Isn't that misappropriating the taxpayers' money?" Benbow sneered, and left. Danford shook his head. "Put your feet up, my dear," he said. "I still have that rack of teas here, and I'll ask them to send up something light, shall I? How does a salad sound?" ### In the obligatory deserted warehouse, Race Benbow looked about with undisguised disdain. "A pity our masters can't seem to show any imagination." "Open spaces are easier to guard and easier to sweep," said Kersh. "What was so important as to demand a meeting?" "They're onto you." "By name?" "Not quite: 'a criminal syndicate that Mulder has been fighting for years'. Apparently they've no evidence yet, which would make naming names actionable." "That's one thing the bosses are good at." "And I need ammunition. There's a limit to how much I can do with her pregnancy; it's working almost as much for her as against." "Little green men?" "Grey." "What?" "I tried that. She has too much sense of humor." "Humor? Her?" "Lessons, perhaps. She's a quick wit, and a quick study." "She's an insolent bitch!" "Not going to help the case." "I know. I'm working on it. But they're bound to call Skinner for character witness, and he'll put their spin on whatever he can." "Hmp. Have you got an associate for me?" "Yes." Kersh handed over a business card. Benbow read it over and pocketed it. "I hope he can keep his mouth shut. How did you let this hearing get away from you from the beginning?" ### Suominen tried not to feel cowed by the intensity of Agent Scully's determination. She was a lioness standing over her one remaining cub. "It's better to take precautions and not need them," she said, "than to need them and not have taken them." "I still don't understand why it will matter." She drew a long breath and spoke slowly and carefully. "If we lose at the hearing, Mulder is bound to end up in some sort of institution. Cousin Kupier doesn't know him, and never did make peace with Mrs Mulder. He probably won't even ask for guardianship himself, but select some professional guardian and let him call it. And if I am judged unsuitable, there's a good chance of his guardian or the institution keeping me away from Mulder to prevent my bad influence. "But if Mulder can insist on seeing me, that gives us leverage against the guardian and the institution both. Once I find him, we can work from inside and outside simultaneously." She gestured with both hands, miming clawing or digging toward each other. "But that brings us to the old problem," she went on. "How's he going to ask or insist on anything?" Suominen finally nodded. "You figure that somewhere in an institution that takes aphasics, someone will know one of the commonly used graphic vocabularies." "And if Mulder can write 'take me to my partner' in all of them," said Agent Scully, "or better, 'take me to my partner, the pregnant redhead,' and if I can get to him and demand that a court or a court's investigator determine whether he has been writing this, unambiguously, we have a case with a chance of countering the original ruling against me." "Why should the ruling go against you?" "You consider me suitable as a guardian?" "I haven't seen you in the long haul, yet. You begin well." "But there are a lot of people still for whom a pregnant single woman is automatically 'immoral.' And most judges are not exactly young swingers." "I thought you were getting a jury." "For the first part of it: whether he is in fact incapacitated. I have to be deemed suitable by 'the court'." "So, if you lose at the hearing, you search for him and make them at least let you visit. What if you win?" Her mouth turned up wryly. "Know anyone who can teach Lamaze nonverbaly?" ### Returning from the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa, Scully saw Mulder still in front of the fish tank, following the placid track of the fish with his fingers against the front glass. Had she read him right? She'd worked out where in her living room the tank would have the same clearance as in Mulder's apartment, and asked with a big fish ikon if he wanted them there. He'd signaled "yes," but had he really understood? Mulder turned from the tank and smiled at her. Pointing at the couch, he circled the room and turned off the rest of the lights. In the soft glow of the tank, he joined her on the couch and pulled her to him. *I guess it was a good call,* she thought. Leaning forward, she picked up the mugs, gave him one and settled back with the other to nestle in the circle of his arm. In silent contentment, they listened to the gentle burble of the aerator and watched the swimming fish. [ continuing with WEEK THREE (at last!) in part 10 ] Quis Custodiet (10/?) by Lee Burwasser WEEK THREE (Sunday) At dinner, Maggie Scully let Fox set the table, deciding that regaining control over part of his life outweighed not making a guest sing for his supper. The experiment pleased both of them. When she brought in the casserole, Fox sniffed dramatically, leaning out of his chair and looking, if not like a hungry fox, like a wistful puppy. "Flatterer!" she smiled at him. Setting the casserole onto its rack, she took off the lid and handed Fox the ladle to serve it. Over coffee, she turned serious. "Dana, is he ever going to get well?" Dana sighed softly. "We don't know if the aphasia is going to improve. But there are graphic vocabularies that people with speech disorders use to communicate with each other and their families, and there is computer software designed for global aphasics. He may never be able to live independently, but he *is* learning to communicate." (Tuesday) The PET scan session was more of the same. Mulder was feeling bored, not to mention claustrophobic. He was cranky and clumsy, and eyed the metal cave like a colt being led into its first horse-trailer. The technician was patient. Agent Scully said, "We're not supposed to treat him like a child, but this time he's asking for it." Now alerted to the nuances, Walesa realised that the two of them were treating him just like a timid child. At last they got him positioned in the scanner, and except for grabbing Agent Scully's hand as she left his side, he settled down to act his age. As with the EEG, the technician scowled at the results, tweaked and fiddled with the equipment and ran the test again. As with the EEG, the second results were no different from the first. "It's preposterous!" she said. "It's flat-out impossible! Everything going fine, tissue metabolising normally, but it will not activate. Goes right on resting and maintaining itself when it should be doing its job. Ridiculous!" Again, Walesa calmed down the technician and persuaded her to write and sign a short notice of what had happened, including the film IDs. All in all, the medical evidence was piling up nicely. Which was of course the lesser part of the job. ### That afternoon, the partners took the normal contents of their respective 'weak boxes' to their banks and stashed them in their strong boxes there. Only the documents related to the hearing stayed at the apartment. That evening, they went to the gunmen for the initial pre-hearing backup of Scully's entire hard drive. They would do it again the day before the hearing. In addition, they scanned all the documents related to the hearing, plus all the Oregon images and Scully's preliminary report on Mulder's condition, into their own secured storage, and set the images and report to be dumped onto the Internet in event of emergency. (Thursday) Sure enough, Ms Bennett got the DNA results within a week. Samantha Melissa was Agent Mulder's daughter. No one had thought of triggering the screamer just to accuse Agent Scully of doing it. But now she was worried about use of the PCR instead of the RFLP or ROFL or whatever the other one was. Jan was beginning to think Agent Mulder's reputed paranoia was catching. "Why," she asked, "should anyone question using the only method that will give results in time for the hearing?" "Because it's less accurate. Normally, the only reason for PCR instead of RFLP is an old or contaminated source, or a sample too small for the more accurate test." "Well, here's another reason: no time for the more accurate test. It's not just movie producers who don't want it good, they want it Wednesday." "I understand. After all, every forensic sample is contaminated by clinical standards. I'm just . . . Danford pegs Benbow as a hit man, a hired gun. And he knows him, they work in the same turf. If the Consortium is at all involved in Benbow's contract, he'll be as vicious as Kersh." "Unless he's a fool, he also knows what will fly and what won't. Look, if this does get to actual testimony, I'll ask Ms Bennett first off about accuracy and speed. Before I ask the results. That will cut the ground out from under Benbow even if he does try to make it fly." ### The partners plus their backup team took Scully's laptop to the gunmen for the final pre-hearing backup. They also took their weekend bags and the hearing-related documents, for none of them would return home until the hearing was over. Trusted agents from HQ and the Field Office would keep watch on all their homes; one of them was Ed Harrison, who would feed the fish. At whatever hotel Skinner had picked, he and Doggett would guard the partners. He wanted the gunmen under his wing as well, but they trusted their own security over any hotel's, and wanted to get to Virginia on their own, or rendezvous with their escort on the way. Skinner was stubborn. "Look, I know you've got portable security gadgets to supplement hotel security -- *and* portable bug-sweepers -- and I know you've set up your files to vanish into the cyber-alleys if your hardware is assaulted. "You have all been subpoenaed, even though it's by the wrong side, and you will all by damn report to the courthouse. If Walesa can get your testimony declared immaterial, no doubt you can go home, but you *will* be physically available until then. "And I do not want you uncovered while you chase down a rendezvous in inside-the-Beltway traffic. We have the rifles racked, and will escort you to Virginia *now*." ### Wonder of wonders, they actually got two adjoining rooms and one directly across the hall. No one had to discuss room assignments, or that the door between the partners' room and Skinner and Doggett's would be left unlocked. They all put their luggage away and met in Mulder and Scully's room for a brief council of war. There they found Scully stretched out on one of the double beds, shoes and knee-highs off, Mulder rubbing her feet. "One word out of any of you and I'll strap you into an empathy belly. The nine-months version!" Doggett smiled in wistful reminiscence. "I wore one when my wife was pregnant; the seven-month plus ankle weights, for about ten minutes. Ooof!" "Does it work?" asked Langly "It works." The men sorted themselves out. The guys perched on the bed not occupied by the foot-rub session, making that end of the room look like a science fiction convention. Doggett commandeered the chair nearest the door. Skinner prowled the little open floor space. "If all we're dealing with is a snob," he said, "we pack up and go home, with no harm done." "Unless Kersh fusses," said Doggett. "I hope he does," said Skinner with a feral grin. Rather than elaborate on that, he went on to the next contingency. "Walesa has a good reputation, which includes not accepting security or anything else from people who are part of the petitioner's case -- no matter how many stripes her horse grows." He paused to glare at Scully's giggle, then went on: "Fortunately, her own security is not bad, provided her partner and associates deserve the trust she has in them. They have fairly good reputations, too." Skinner stopped his pacing and turned to look at Doggett and then at Scully. "Danford?" Doggett shrugged and spread his hands. "I'm inclined to trust him," said Scully, "if only because Mulder does. That could go both ways; he seems to have formed his opinion of me from what Mulder's told him." Skinner nodded. "Benbow." "Hit man. Hired gun and proud of it." Doggett snorted derision. "But who hired him?" "And why does he want us?" said Langly. "Because you're weird," said Scully. "After your phone conversation with Ms Walesa, she asked me if there was an adult in that menage." To which Skinner added, "And she referred to you to me as 'Agent Mulder's odd friends.'." "So how does that help Benbow?" said Byers. "Because for the past few months you have been Agent Scully's odd friends," Skinner explained patiently. "And for the past three weeks, she has not hesitated to leave Mulder in your care. If Benbow can successfully maneuver the judge into connecting you to Scully and not Mulder, he can make her look irresponsible." "Provided the judge is a very superficial judge of character," said Scully. "But if not, there's still no real risk." When the council broke up, Scully grabbed her toiletries bag from the bedside table where Mulder had put it, her pyjamas and robe from her opened suitcase, and headed for the bathroom. She indulged herself in a bath rather than a quick shower, but not so far as a kitchen-sink (or bathroom-tub) Special. There was still hot water for Mulder's turn. Barefoot, she turned on the lamp on the table between the beds and turned off the rest of the lights, turned down the bedclothes on both beds, and made sure everything was off the floor and solidly settled. She had just fastened the dead-bolt on the door to the public corridor when Mulder came out. He saw what she was up to and nodded, glanced around the room and hesitated. He didn't actually frown, but Scully knew him well enough to know that all was not 'fine.' He padded into the aisle between the beds and turned to look at her. His whole face was a question-mark. "What is it, Mulder?" she said. She crossed to him and put her hands on his chest. He gathered them gingerly between his own, as if they might shatter or break off if he was too rough. He stared into her eyes, imploring -- what? *If we lose tomorrow, it may be months or years before we sleep under the same roof again.* She tugged him toward her bed. He slid in after her and turned off the light. # }Herself{ }warm-snug-safe-safe-safe{ # (Friday) The next morning they convoyed to the courthouse, found parking close to each other and headed for the entrance. The gunmen for once were meek as mice, trying not to attract attention. Not that Doggett and Skinner were being exhibitionistic, but courthouse regulars recognised the FBI uniform and the Marine spine. They stayed out of the party's way, but they stared, and no doubt speculated. A policeman was hustling a homeless man away from the door of the courthouse as they came up. Doggett looked after them, reflecting that Mulder could all too easily have ended up just such a nameless beggar. Or only slightly better off in a home. Skinner seemed to read his mind. "Don't you think Mulder knows how lucky he is?" he asked quietly. "No, I don't," Doggett returned just as quietly. "I can see he's devoted to her, but he takes her as a given. Once he got out of enemy hands, she'd be there to give him a home." Make a home for him: more than cooking his meals and doing his laundry -- *care*. Inside the courthouse they split up to find their appointed stations. Scully and Mulder were the principals, petitioner and respondent; the rest were subpoenaed witnesses. Privately, Doggett wondered what he or the gunmen had to offer the case. # There were no separate tables. Theoretically, they were all here to help Mulder. They were, however, sorted into a spectrum. At one end sat Janet Walesa, the court-appointed guardian ad litem. Next to her was Mulder. Instead of Danford, his attorney of record, Scully sat next to Mulder, and Danford next to her. Lippsett, Danford's local associate, sat next to him. Race Benbow and his local associate sat at the far end. "All rise." Let the show begin. The judge addressed the jury. Six jurors for a competence hearing. All the normal instructions. Jan was glad to hear her emphasise that the respondent was alleged to be incapacitated, not incompetent. He was presumed to be sane, stable, and capable of making rational decisions, but he was cut off from communicating them, or gathering information to make them. Jan rose to her feet. "Your Honor, since the petitioner was present and involved from the time the respondent arrived at the Oregon emergency room, I wish to call her first, to recount these events." The judge merely nodded. Agent Scully was called to the stand. Agent Scully told her well-worn tale of events in Oregon. As usual, she said as little as she could manage about the case that called them there, and about the failure of backup. Jan was willing to let her get by with a bare summary. When she got to the second trip, she went into more detail, starting with the signs of abuse on all the captives before centering on Mulder's aphasia. Clearly she was used to testifying, or else writing reports. Now and again she had to be brought back to clarify some technical matter, but she forged on through the release of the patient to her care, the pause in Portland for the PET scan, the flight back to DC. "With Mr Lippsett's help, I filed the petition for guardianship. Then we reported to our boss, AD Skinner. Then Mulder and I went shopping for a speech therapist, among those recommended by Ms Thorne in Oregon. We spoke to a group of Mulder's friends who needed reassurance, then we crashed and burned." Jan thanked her and retreated for Benbow to take her place. "Weren't you worried, Miss Scully," he asked, "flying across the continent in your condition?" "No, sir." "No further questions." Hm, perhaps she owed Agent Scully an apology; this guy must have learned his trade terrorising rape victims. Danford took the re-direct. "Dr Scully, was there any particular reason that your . . . condition . . . did not figure in your decision?" Scully: "Pregnancy is not a disease, or a disability. For some women, it becomes a temporary incapacity toward the end, for others it's never more than a nuisance. My condition at the time of Agent Mulder's return precluded joining the search teams in the forest, and of course required me to be extra careful around radiation sources. It did not preclude an airline flight, nor normal pathology work in a hospital setting." "Isn't blood work dangerous?" Scully: "No more so than for any technician. That's why we all wear gloves and masks and follow procedures; not only to keep the results reliable, but to prevent exposure to toxic or infectious material." The technicians from the imaging facilities were repetitious in the extreme. She took the structural images first, the CAT and the MRI. They each identified Mulder, their signed longhand reports, and the images. Each mentioned that the only distinguishing mark or scar on the latter was the old contusion on the right temporal lobe. Each set of images was placed in evidence. Neither Benbow nor Danford had questions for them. With the functional graph and images, the EEG and the PET, things got interesting. "It's more than unheard of," said the EEG technician, "it's preposterous." Jan led him through his explanation yet again for the jury. Benbow's cross-examination was at least civil, and he actually brought out a significant point. "By your account," he said, "the brain did in fact respond to speech and writing, just not the way anyone expected. Correct?" The technician stared at him. "A response? Strictly speaking . . . Yes, I guess you could call it that." "It responded by going to sleep, or whatever that squiggle means." "Not sleep, but more than relaxation." "So, when presented with speech or writing, the parts of the brain responsible for dealing with it stuck their hands in their pockets and strolled off whistling?" "Something like. Explaining that electrical activity is going to generate a lot of dissertations." The graph was placed in evidence. The PET scan technician agreed as to the preposterousness of the readings, in this case the metabolic activity, but could not call it a response. Metabolically, the brain ignored speech and writing. The image was placed in evidence. Next, Jan called Dr. Bowser, speech pathologist. He identified himself, Jan, Mulder, and the day he had done the evaluation on the latter. "He was alert, oriented, and reasonably cooperative; the tests are tedious, and he got bored, but we're use to coping with that." Certainly the annotated list of tests he recitedwas tedious enough. "And your diagnosis?" asked Jan. "Global aphasia: the most complete case I've ever encountered." On request, he then identified the images and graph that Jan had informed him had been sent from Oregon. A careful man, experienced in court testifying. The set of images and graph were entered into evidence, but retained at the witness box. Jan handed him the exhibits identified by the various technicians. "Will you compare these images with the ones you have just identified?" Bowser did so meticulously, then sorted them into three piles. Raising the first, he said, "All the CAT and MRI images show an old contusion on the right temporal lobe. There are no other distinguishing marks or scars, but the contusion is the same on both the images taken here and those allegedly from Oregon." Raising the second: "The PET scans have no distinguishing marks or abnormalities. I cannot say whether they are of the same subject or not." Raising the third: "The EEG graphs both show the same previously unknown abnormality. According to the labels on both, these abnormailities occur in the readings of the same areas of the brain, Wernke's area and the angular gyrus. Barring some sort of clerical error or flim-flam, these are of the same condition, probably in the same patient." Careful as ever, though Jan, and asked "Do these images and graph support your diagnosis?" "They are impossible," he said. "Aphasia is caused by brain injury. Global aphasia would require severe and extensive trauma. These images show the entire linguistic region normal and uninjured. The graph shows something very strange going on in the linguistic area, but not the record one would expect of damage that results in aphasia?" "And in the light of all this, would you reconsider your diagnosis?" "No. The man has aphasia. Whether these anomalous records are a medical or legal issue I couldn't say without further study by several specialists." Danford had no questions. Benbow did. "Dr Bowser, do you recognise anyone else in this room from that visit?" "Dr Scully, the woman next to Agent Mulder." "Was she present during evaluation?" "No." "Did she speak to you beforehand?" "Yes." "Did she threaten you?" "No." Benbow frowned. "No? Then what *did* she say?" "That if I harmed her partner, I would find that the Smoking Bastard was not all-powerful, and the fix was not in." "And you don't consider that a threat?" "Since I don't work for her Smoking Bastard, and had no intention of harming her partner, why should I?" "You claim you were not frightened?" "Only of her Smoking Bastard. She was afraid of what he might do to her partner, and clearly considered him capable of coercing professionals to harm their patients. I certainly hope I do not make his acquaintence." Next, Jan called Carl Suominen, speech therapist. He identified her and Muler, and stated that Dr Scully, whom he also identified, had been bringing Mulder in for twice-weekly sessions for three weeks, and attending the Friday sessions herself. "He is very lucky: he's good at nonverbal communication, and so is his partner; and he has friends who are very much at home with computers. They have recreated primitive forms of C-ViC and Blissymbols with ikons and computer graphics." He got out a pile of snapshots and said, half to Jan and half to the judge, "May I demonstrate?" The judge nodded, a bit warily. Suominen clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. He caught Mulder's eye and rose, beckoning Mulder to him. He told the jury, "These are the shots that I asked permission to have taken in the jury room, plus one of Mulder himself." He sorted through the snapshots, holding them so Mulder could see them, pulled out one and handed it to him. Then he gave Mulder the photos and gestured toward the jury. Mulder sorted through the pile. One at a time, he gave each juror his or her own picture. Suominen clapped him on the shoulder and started laying out another deck of cards on the rail in front of the jury box. "If the members of the jury will rearrange these cards?" They did. Suominen shuffled the remainder of the deck and handed it to Mulder, who riffled through the cards and then checked the cards on the jury box. Some were pictures, some swirls of color, some geometric figures. Mulder laid out the cards he held to match the ones on the rail. Once again, Suominen gave him an approving clap, then gestured him back to his seat. Suominen himself returned to the witness box. "Agent Mulder is fortunate in having none of the symptoms of stroke or brain trauma that so often complicate aphasia. He has no problem with motor control, his hearing is unimpaired and his vision nearly so; like so many of us, he needs reading glasses. He also has an excellent memory, which will be very useful with pictographic and ideographic symbols. About the only thing he can not do is speak, understand speech, read, or write." Jan was not about to step on that line. She paused two full breaths, then thanked Mr Suominen and turned him over to her colleagues. Benbow's first question sounded innocuous enough: "can you expand on 'at home with computers'? Are we talking operator, programmer, what?" Oh, shit! he's laying preparation for calling the gunmen. Sure enough, Suominen innocently said, "All of Agent Mulder's friends that I have met are sophisticated users. Mr Langly is the programmer. He does a sort of semi-animation, using simple graphic applications, and he's mentioned 'tweaking' animated interactive programs to make them purely graphic; as he says, they're almost purely graphic to start with." "With all this touchy-feely in the communication department, do you find that your patient and his partner indulge in public display of affection?" Suominen frowned and said, "If you mean sexual fondling, say so." "Why should you think I mean that?" "Because that is the common euphemism. Speech is my specialty, Counselor, don't try to bamboozle me with schoolboy conundrums." Benbow backed off from this very different Suominen from the genial enthusiast Walesa had seen before this. A glance at the partners showed them just as startled. "Very well," said the somewhat subdued Benbow, "have you observed any sort of sexual fondling between them?" "None." Equally startling to those who had known him for three weeks, he made no effort to elaborate. "Would you expand on that, please." "I have never seen either of them touch themselves or each other -- or indeed, anyone at all -- on the genitals, or erotic areas, or other publicly inappropriate places. They touch each other for the most part on the most public areas: hands, arms and shoulders. Less often, they touch each other's faces and hair, somewhat more intimate areas that are nevertheless considered appropriate to touch in public." "No further questions." Now it was Benbow's turn to call witnesses. Sure enough, he called Langly. After the preliminaries: "How long have you been looking into aphasia programs?" "Since Mulder came back." "Three weeks?" "Just about, yeah." "With help from Mr Suominen?" "Hey, if it's software, I can find it, but a head start never does any harm. A lot of aphasia software is for partials, which does us no good. The doc can tell us which is the stuff we want." "By 'the doc,' you mean Mr Suominen?" "Yeah." "And you also search out graphic vocabularies?" "Yeah." "Do you study them?" Langly shook his head. "They haven't settled on one yet." "They?" "Mulder and Scully." "Not Mr Suominen? The doc?" "I guess they'll consult with him. Or Agent Scully will." "You just do the computer searches and the animation?" "Computer stuff generally," he said. "My kung-fu is the best." Benbow ignored the brag. "What else do you do for her?" "Hey, whatever we can. Last week we moved his fish." "Fish?" "To her place. Their place. Whatever." "And before that?" "We look after him sometimes. While he was gone, we listened out for John Does. Fed the fish when she was out of town on a case. Just . . . just be there generally." Benbow moved on: "Do you expect this software that you've found and your own inventiveness will restore the patient's communication?" Langly shook his head. "It'll be a big improvement, but he'll always need a translater." Neither Walesa nor Danford had questions. That was the last witness. The jury took little time to agree that Fox William Mulder was currently incapacitated, not incompetent, and needed a guardian during his incapacity, however long or short that might be. That his incapacity was his loss of effective communication, not his medical condition per se, and that sufficient restoration of communication, irrespective of his medical condition, would be enough to cure his current incapacity. The judge thanked and excused them. Now the fight began. [ Friday of WEEK THREE continues in part 11 ] Quis Custodiet (11/12) by Lee Burwasser WEEK THREE continued (Friday continued) Curtis Danford found Ms Walesa a competent and congenial colleague, but this half of the hearing would be tricky in the extreme. Curtis was convinced that Fox's wishes and his interests were in this matter the same. Ms Walesa was not concerned with Fox's wishes, only for her best judgment of his interests. Ms Bennett was the first character witness. At Ms Walesa's request, she identified herself and her employer. "We do DNA parentage testing. Mostly paternity, but maternity and grandparentage, too." "Please describe your activities the afternoon of Thursday before last." "I observed an ultrasound-guided amniocentesis on a fetus already bearing the name Samantha Melissa; I also observed the taking of a blood sample from the mother Dana Scully; and taking a sample of the man accompanying them, Fox Mulder. I observed the labeling of the samples, then I convoyed the samples to our lab." "Do you see either of the adults you observed in court today?" Ms Bennett pointed. "The man sitting next to you and the woman sitting next to him." On further request, she described the security and chain of custody precautions at the lab, ending with: "One lockbox which our security head says is no help, but does no harm either." "Can you say what tests were used on those samples?" "A test known as the RFLP is the most accurate, but it can take over a month for the results. The PCR is not as accurate, but it's faster, needs a smaller sample size, and is not as fussy as to sample freshness. I used the PCR polymarker test -- 6 markers, to be exact -- which is nearly as accurate as the RFLP, and offered the only chance to get the results in time for this hearing." "You, personally?" "Best way to keep track. I did the tests on all the samples and did the comparison." "And your conclusion?" "Samantha Melissa is the daughter of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder." "How certain are you?" "99.9 percent." Walesa thanked her and returned to the table. The judge called for other questions. There were none; no one had any desire to tangle with a witness so clearly in command of her material. The judge also thanked Ms Bennett and excused her. Curtis nodded, smiling to himself. That gun might not be spiked altogether, but with the obvious evidence that she had been active now evidence she'd been active with her desired ward, it would have less impact. With the underbrush cleared out of the way, Walesa called Agent John Doggett. He played the stone-faced G-Man through identifying himself and his assignment. "I was seconded to the X-Files some months ago." "And what are the X-Files?" The stoneface cracked slightly into a wry twist of a smile. "My boss said he was going to assign me cases that somebody else has already given up on. It's a pretty fair description." At Walesa's "Do you know Agent Dana Scully?" the stone cracked a bit further, not with a smile. "I met her after her partner was kidnapped. That's pretty stressful. And getting him back disabled is pretty stressful, too. I've never seen her except under stress." "What's she like under stress?" "Obsessed. Running flat out, like a machine with its safeties disabled." "Doing what?" "Searching. Turning over rocks. Setting up a network to find any John Does that fit Mulder's description. Emergency room, morgue, drunk tank. Even checking with MUFON, they made something of a cult of Mulder's investigations -- like I said, turning over rocks. She was over at Fingerprints so often, somebody suggested setting up an annex in the basement so she could look for Mulder matches herself. She said, 'When?' The idea was a non-starter, but she would have done it." "And the assigned cases? Did they suffer from her obsession?" "No. She didn't neglect them or let herself be distracted. She did up very complete field reports, like she knew it was all going to fall out of her head once the case was closed." "And after his return?" "Then she accepted desk duty, and soon went on family leave, so I didn't see a lot of her." "What did you see?" "Mostly preparation for this hearing. And Mulder's speech therapy sessions. Meetings with the guys about computer-aided communication. Moving his fish." "Is there some significance to Agent Mulder's fish?" Walesa sounded honestly puzzled, as was Curtis himself. Doggett spread his hands. "Somebody has to feed them when he's gone. Agent Scully if she was there, but on a case she would be with him, so it would be his, uhm, cyber pals." Benbow again started with a seemingly innocuous question: "What was your first impression of Miss Scully?" "That's *Agent* Scully," said Agent Doggett. "Or Dr Scully." "Agent Scully, then. What was your first impression?" "Way off. I was going by reputation, and the least accurate." "She has more than one?" "To those who actually work with her, she is thorough, meticulous, polite to the support staff, and supportive of her partner. To the powder-room and coffee-stand crowd, she's Mrs Spooky the UFO chaser." "And you opted for Mrs Spooky?" "Yeah." Something about Doggett's tone seemed to catch Benbow's attention. Instead of asking his next question right away, he held off and looked inquiring. "I deliberately antagonised her," Doggett admitted slowly. "I treated her as a suspect's accomplice, trying to shake her trust in him, shake her confidence in his trust of her. Not the way to treat a fellow agent whose partner was just kidnapped. She couldn't very well see me as anything but an enemy." "And how did you get around that?" "Did my job." "No flowers or candy?" "That's not what we're there for. She was assigned to guard my back, so she owed it to herself to do the job right. Like guarding a valuable witness in a mob case. She had a kidnapped partner to find, and no time to keep up a feud. Eventually it . . ." He fumbled a bit, then shrugged. "It washed away." Give it up, Horace, Curtis thought, before you elicit any more testimonials. Evidently, Benbow was telepath enough to pick this up; he had no further questions for Agent Doggett. After Assistant Director Walter Skinner identified himself and Special Agent Dana Scully ("the redheaded woman sitting next to Agent Mulder"), Walesa asked him how long he had known her. "I've known *of* her for seven, going on eight years, ever since she was assigned to the X-files Unit. Back then, the Unit was part of the Violent Crimes and Major Offenders Section. The Unit Chief reported to the VCMO Section Chief, he to the Deputy Assistant Director for Financial Crimes, Corruption, Civil Rights and Violent Crimes, and he to me. I probably would not have heard of her in the ordinary course of events, but part of her job was to assess the validity of the X-file investigations, so of course I read her reports." "Did you ever get to know her personally?" "Half a dozen years ago, the X-files Unit was made part of my office, and I became their direct supervisor." "How would you assess Agent Scully?" "She often gets overlooked, due to her partner's flamboyance. She is honest, meticulous and thorough, takes her responsibilities seriously. She is protective toward her partner, the sick and injured, and children. She is usually respectful toward authority, but not at the expense of justice. "I learned to look to Agent Scully for . . . grounding . . . balance. Between his obsessions and his enthusiasms, Agent Mulder did go off half-cocked. Agent Scully is methodical, concerned for procedure and evidence . . ." He hesitated, as though sifting through phrasings, before settling on, "keeps her backup more in the loop." "All the boring but essential virtues?" "Some non-boring ones. She's a crack shot with rifle and handgun, knows field aid and life-support, and will bite your head off if you get in the way of a rescue." "I see," said Walesa. "You mention 'her partner.' How many has she had?" "Agent Mulder has been her partner from the time she joined the X-files to the time he was kidnapped. Agent Doggett was assigned to the X-files within a week of the kidnapping, and has acted as her partner from then to the present." "How did she respond to the kidnapping?" Skinner's jaw clenched. "She forgave me," he got out. He consciously relaxed both his jaw and his shoulders, and went on: "Agent Mulder left her in D.C., and I agreed, because we were afraid she was ill. I went with Mulder to Oregon, and I lost him. He was standing in front of me, and he disappeared. Scully forgave me, and concentrated on finding him." "Exclusively?" "That's not possible. I kept her caseload as low as I could, but the badguys don't keep business hours." For some reason, he locked eyes with Walesa before adding, "As her . . . physical condition . . . progressed, I cut her caseload further; I could not eliminate it." "And on news of Agent Mulder's return?" "Off to Oregon with reagents and records, leaving footprints on anyone silly enough to get in the way." "Thank you, Mr Skinner," said Walesa. Turning to Benbow: "Your witness." Benbow first asked, "How well does Agent Scully get along with her colleagues?" "Polite if a bit reserved. The unit is physically isolated, down in the old copier room in the basement, which does not contiribute to socialising. And the nature of the X-files is another barrier, from both sides. For one thing, people do not want to think about the X-files seriously; they would rather dismiss it all as 'little green men.' So they take her lightly as well, and their ribbing is far from friendly. "The other side . . ." He paused a moment and eyed Benbow with an air of sizing him up. "You may be aware of the problems that law enforcement people have in connecting to those who haven't been there. It's a notorious destroyer of marriages; you don't want to bring your family into the sewer you wade in daily, but their lives and concerns seem . . . not a fantasy, but protected from the gritty side of reality. Agents Scully and Mulder are even more isolated; not even other agents have been where they've been. Hell, I don't really understand them, and I've had to wade in and pull them out. Ultimately, it's just them." "So when Agent Mulder vanished, it was just Agent Scully?" "To a great extent." "And you? The one who pulls them out? Weren't you there to comfort the widow?" Skinner's eyes narrowed dangerously; his jaw tightened, the veins in his temples throbbed. His voice remained calm, but went ominously flat. "If you mean trying to seduce her, no. That's not my style, and she would have put a bullet through me. If you mean being there for her, offering what little comfort I could, then yes." "No more nor less than you would do for any other agent?" "More than most. Partly because I lost him. Partly because I owe her my life, two or three times over. Partly because, if only she were a little taller, she'd have made a damned fine Marine." Benbow cleared his throat. "No further questions." Walesa rose and said, "Your Honor, I would like to put Mr Curtis Danford on the stand." Though he half-expected this, it was still a jolt. The judge merely said, "Explain, Counsellor." "Though Mr Danford has spent relatively little time with Agent Scully, that time includes the period during which the two unofficially performed the functions of guardian and conservator. Since these are the functions requested for them in the petition, it seems only fair to put this time on record. "Second, we have too few sources of evidence for Agent Mulder's feelings about Agent Scully to ignore any. Mr Danford is especially significant in that his interactions with Agent Mulder have been in a very different social millieu than colleagues and fellow hobbyists." "Very well," said the judge. "Mr Danford." They quickly got the preliminaries out of the way, and Walesa asked, "Let's begin with when you first met Fox Mulder." "Mmn, well, my first encounter was not in person." "Start there." "I made partner in Garrison and St Martin late in 1974. When the Joshua Kupiers set up a trust for their grandson, Mr Garrison was kind enough to suggest me for trustee. I didn't learn until much later that this was shortly after Fox's parents divorced." "So your association was a purely business one." "At first. When Fox reached 21, and I informed him that the money was now under his control, he asked if I would be willing to go on looking after it, and I agreed. He went off to Oxford the next year, came back, joined the FBI and settled in Virginia. He was almost never home after that." Curtis couldn't suppress a brief smile as he said, "At Bill Mulder's funeral, I noticed a striking redhead talking to Teena Mulder. Of course I had no idea that it was Agent Scully, until I saw her again some years later. No premonition whatsoever, I'm sorry to say. "Probating the will was of course complicated by thinking that Fox was dead, but all got straightened out in good time. Fox instructed me to keep his share of his father's estate separate from his grandparents' legacy, but it was some time later that he gave me more detailed instructions for both." Here Curtis paused, thinking what he could ethically reveal about his client's activities -- in effect, what was already known, or as good as known, to anyone who cared to look. Finally, he said, "That was when he made his grandparents' legacy into his emergency fund, and made it joint with Agent Dana Scully. And no, I have no idea why he never told her he was doing it, nor how he got her signiture for it. His father's estate he dedicated to thwarting illegal human experimentation and aiding the victims of it. About three years later, he tapped the dedicated fund for an expedition to rescue his partner." Once again he paused, sorting the claims on his conscience. "During these various discussions he of course mentioned Agent Scully, and spoke, rather obliquely, of their work and his feelings about their partnership. I got the distinct impression that they were very unlike, and that it surprised everyone, including themselves, that they worked so effctively together. I gathered that Fox flushed the game and Dana brought it down." Dear God, had he really used her Christian name without permission? Don't do that again! "He also spoke most forthrightly of his trust in his partner." He had to pause a moment. "Then Teena Mulder died. Fox insisted that his partner do the autopsy. He trusted no one else. When I met her over the paperwork, I realised that Fox's partner was the redhead I'd noticed at Bill Mulder's funeral. I now learned that she was thorough, meticulous, professional, and deeply concerned for Fox's well-being. "I learned of the kidnapping when Agent Scully phoned me about paying the rent and utilities on Fox's apartment. She wasn't sure how long his account in Washington would cover it. At this point we were at cross purposes without realising it. I assumed she knew about the emergency fund, and was asking my assistance in tapping it for the first time. In fact, she was asking if Fox had any resources to bring into play if the Bureau froze his salary. "All those months we were in perfect misunderstanding: I took it as a courtesy that she was keeping me up to date; she was accounting for her expenditures to the man she assumed to be in charge. The simple fact is that she accounted for every penny. She spent it *only* on Fox's rent and utilities." Walesa, who had let him tell his story without further prompting, thanked him formally and stepped away. Benbow closed in for the kill. "You consider Agent Scully suitable as a guardian?" "Yes." "Based on your client's regard, plus your few meetings with her?" "And our long-distance dealings in regard to Fox's property." "Meaning the emergency fund?" "Meaning all the property she was aware of: his account in his D.C. bank, the property in his apartment, and the emergency fund when she learned about it." "By your own account, she had no idea that she could make off with the emergency fund. This hardly speaks to her integrity." Well, at least he was off sexual innuendos. "You're having a consistency problem. You assume that a thorough, methodical, meticulous person with designs on Fox's estate would allow herself to remain in ignorance of its extent and condition. An FBI agent could find all this out, and one that Fox trusts as he does Agent Scully wouldn't even have to abuse her official connections. She has access to the papers in his lockbox at his bank." "She's certainly succeeded in wrapping you around her finger." "Now you've got a successful FBI agent so clueless about her partner of over seven years that she hatches an elaborate scheme to cozen me out of what Fox would give her for the asking. If he'd known about his daughter, he'd have made arrangements for her, or told me to make them, before he left for Oregon." "But he didn't, and now he can't give instructions." "And if Agent Scully came up with this plan only when she realised that Fox was completely -- What's the word? Global. -- globally aphasic, her behavior during his captivity cannot have been part of the plan. Really, if you were writing this as a script, the continuity editor would be all over you." This time, Benbow didn't have the sense to leave it alone. He said, "Who says *she* came up with the plot?" Curtis kept his voice calm. "You did, Horace. When you stopped suggesting improper relations, you began twisting her actions to fit into some Byzantine plot against Fox's money. You have no evidence for either, just your orders to keep Fox's closest friend from becoming his guardian." The judge belatedly banged her gavel. "This courtroom is not the place for your personal quarrels. Are there further questions?" Benbow said, "No further questions." "Then the witness may stand down." Suominen, now back in genial-enthusiast mode, had of course already identified himself in the first part of the hearing. Walesa asked his opinion of Agent Scully as a caretaker for Fox Mulder. "Clearly I haven't known them long enough to evaluate long-term suitability, but she begins well. She comes to family sessions, takes an interest in everything he learns, and applies it in his everyday life. She is determined to find a channel of communication which can handle abstract and complex concepts. Her memory is not as good as his, but she applies herself to learning the symbols he knows." "Then you consider her determination to be caretaker as well as guardian to be a reasonable one? "Home-care is generally best, if it's possible at all. She will have to hire a professional caretaker to help her out fairly soon, if only to get them all through the extra demands of late pregnancy and early infancy. But her desire not to introduce strangers into his life until he's had time to get used to the other disruptions is basically sound. Provided she doesn't put it off too long." "Thank you, Mr Suominen," said Walesa. She glanced at Benbow, but he was not eager to tangle with the Feisty Finn again. In civil procedure, there was no discovery. Curtis had no idea what witnesses Benbow would call. "Special Agent Thomas Colton." [Friday of WEEK THREE concludes in part 12] Quis Custodiet (12/12) by Lee Burwasser WEEK THREE concluded (Friday concluded) In civil procedure, there was no discovery. Curtis had no idea what witnesses Benbow would call. "Special Agent Thomas Colton." Curtis heard Dana's breath hiss between her teeth. Had Fox ever mentioned a Tom Colton? Curtis studied the man as he approached the witness box; he looked the typical G-Man. A quick glance aside showed Dana's stony face, an icon of implacable concentration. Colton identified himself. He was assigned to the Washington Metropolitan Field Office, in a white-collar crime squad, but available for drug busts. He knew Agent Scully, she had been in his class in the Academy. "If I believed in curses, I'd say the X-Files was cursed. We all heard about Spooky Mulder, bright boy headed for the top -- until he found those files in the basement and he just went down the tubes. Then Dana Scully: did great at the Academy, sent directly into teaching -- then she was assigned to the X-Files, and she went right down the tubes after him. Chasing mutants and little green men." "Did the two of you stay in touch?" asked Benbow. "It was just Spooky and Mrs Spooky down there. She just about stopped socialising with the other agents. Though I guess no one was offering much after Pendrell died. Poor geek had a crush on her, and when she got in a shootout at the watering hole, he got into the line of fire. All Mulder's former partners are dead, come to think of it, and Dana's old lover from Academy days. Talk about a curse." "Lover?" "She had an affair with one of the instructors, Jack Willis. Evidently they parted friends, because they were together on the Dupre case. Willis died twice on that one, or at least his heart stopped. They got it going again the first time, but that used up all his luck." Agent Scully passed him a note, slipping it under his hand like a girl passing notes in school. He drew it to him and glanced down. _He was in South Dakota by then._ Curtis wrote _Specific times?_ and passed it back. Meanwhile, Benbow asked Colton, ever so delicately, about any disciplinary actions. Scully passed their note back to Curtis: _Lamana & Jack 1st yr 1993_ _Pendrell abt 4 yrs ago_ _Fowley last yr_ "Well," said Colton with equally exaggerated delicacy, "everyone heard about her spending the night in jail for contempt of Congress, but nobody heard what for. And there was the suspension about something hush-hush a couple of years earlier. And that really confused mess not long after the Dallas bomb scare." Scully scribbled another note and passed it over: _Sen Subc about 4 yrs ago_ _suspens 3d yr '95_ _confused 3 yr ago_ "Your witness," said Benbow smugly. Walesa, noticing the activity beyond Fox, let Curtis take the cross-examination. "How long have you been in the Metropolitan Field Office?" he asked. Colton wasn't eager to answer, but got out, "About a month." "And where were you before then?" "Salt Lake City." "For how long?" "About three years." "And before that?" "Sioux Falls, South Dakota." "For how long?" "Four or so." "Now, do you remember when Jack Willis died?" "Not precisely." "Do you remember where you were when you learned about it?" "I was in Sioux Falls." "And Agent Pendrell? Do you remember where you were when you heard about his death?" "Sioux Falls," Colton muttered, barely audibly. "Agent Mulder was not your old classmate, but do you remember the names of his former partners? Late former partners?" "Fowley." "Do you recall when you heard of his death?" "About a year ago." "And you were where at the time?" "Salt Lake City." Curtis glanced at the judge, who wasn't giving anything away. "Agent Colton, what is your professional assessment of grapevine accuracy across half a continent?" Colton didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Stories grow, even in the Bureau. Like the one about Willis, the story said the doctors were ready to give up, but Dana insisted on one more try, and it worked. Now that's just too good. But the kernel is bound to have something in it." "Do you know how many Bureau agents die each year?" "I could look it up, but I don't have it memorised." "Do you know how many of your own connections and former connections in the Bureau have died since you transferred to South Dakota?" "No." "Can you say whether 'Spooky and Mrs Spooky' have lost more or fewer than the nationwide average?" "No." "Have you had occasion to . . . refresh your memory of these deaths and disciplines since your return to Washington?" Colton shook his head. "I'm in the Field Office. The X-file Unit is at Headquarters." "No further questions." No more witnesses, either. ### The judge tapped with her gavel and fixed her gaze on Scully. "Special Agent Dana Scully," she said. Scully rose to her feet, not sure whether she should approach the judge or just stand. Fortunately, the judge spoke to her before she could make a fool of herself. "When you made the petition to become Fox Mulder's guardian, were you familiar with the duties entailed?" "No, Your Honor. I just knew that it had to be done." "Have you since then read the relevant section of the Virginia Code?" "Yes, Your Honor." "Do you understand that a guardian is responsible to the Department of Social Services for the ward's well-being? That he or she will be expected to file an annual written report of his or her decisions and actions?" "Yes, Your Honor." "If a guardian needs help with the forms and regulations, the department will advise him or her. It is, however, entirely up to the guardian to ask for their advice in good time." "Yes, Your Honor." The gavel tapped again. "This court finds you, Dana Scully, suitable to become the guardian of Fox William Mulder. The rest is up to you." "T-thank you, Your Honor." A sharp crack of the gavel. "Adjourned." ### In the post-adjournment milling, Tom slipped as unobtrusively as possible toward the exit. He slid his eyes carefully toward AD Skinner. Oh, hell, the man was watching him. No help for it; he donned his poker face and walked over. Skinner said quietly, "I'm not asking for names, agent, just a yes or no. Were you under orders, implicit or explicit?" Tom thought fast. Skinner was no dope. "Yes, sir." "Hm. Well, you might remind him, agent, that witnesses are not always sequestered, and very seldom after testifying." "Yes, sir," he said again. Skinner nodded and turned away. Effectively dismissed, Tom headed for the exit, with his best confident stride. At the door, however, he couldn't help but look back. No danger of Skinner noticing; the man was engrossed in something else. Following his gaze, Tom was unsurprised to see a blatant Public Display of Affection. Dana's hands were on Spooky's shoulders, and her head rested against his chest. He was stroking her hair and her back simultaneously. Tom turned back to the exit. At least Spooky was out of the Bureau. And he always did need a keeper. FINIS AUTHOR's NOTEs Sioux Falls, SD - This is an actual Resident Agency, under the Minneapolis Field Office (which covers both Dakotas and Minnesota). The "Minor Characters" section in Pellinor's Deep Background says only that Tom Colton was reassigned to South Dakota. The "Script Differences" section of Laura Witte's X-Files In-Jokes List quotes the lines cut from the episode-as-aired, which specify Sioux Falls. I gave Colton a second transfer just for the hell of having him at Salt Lake City when the Bureau was trying to send Scully there. Quotations: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? - Juvenal, Satires, VI, 347 : "Who shall guard those guardians?" or "Who'll watch the watchmen?" Monty Python and the Holy Grail - coconuts gig from Scene 1; The Bridge of Death from Scene 23 Maltese Falcon, Warner Brothers, 1941, from the novel by Dashiell Hammett, starring Humphry Bogart as Sam Spade. No, I don't think Scully's a Bogart fan, but that line she would know. "Follow the money" : check out the commonest motive -- money -- before the less common "benefits" (and leave the Twinky defenses to the defense counsel) "When you hear hoofbeats, first think horses, not zebras" : check out the simple, common, obvious possibilities before the exotic "What, never?" - the Captain of the Pinafore," Gilbert & Sullivan, _HMS Pinafore_ : the next lines go "No, never!" "What, never?" "Well, HARDLY ever." "Do not attribute to malice what is adequately explained by stupidity" - Heinlein's Razor "Rumour painted with a thousand tongues" - allegorical figure in _King Henry IV, part 2_, Shakespeare, telling the audience that he will report the battle inaccurately All's Well That Ends Well : English saying, used for title of Shakespearian play "dance like a butterfly, sting like a bee" - Muhammad Ali camel's nose : if you let the camel put his nose into the tent, you're going to have all of him in there with you "I don't want it good, I want it Wednesday!" - attributed to most well-known producers of the 40s and 50s Who Janet Walesa is not related to: Lech Walesa, head of the Solidarity Party in Poland. Bag job: "Slang for surreptitious entry into an office or home to obtain files or materials illegally. Such break-ins dot the history of U.S. intelligence agencies, especially the FBI . . . . Break-ins were also staged to install bugs and telephone wiretaps." see also "The logistics of a black bag job" by Wes Swearingen, FBI http://www.icdc.com/~paulwolf/bagjob.htm empathy belly: a device originally designed to give expectant fathers an idea of what pregnancy feels like, later used to educate teens of both sexes FINALLY! THE END!