From: "Katherine Adams" Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 05:34:09 +0000 Subject: Starkweather: Frequency Modulation Source: direct Devil's Hollow Sioux City, Iowa 12:59 AM The little Neon hummed along the dark highway. Starkweather looked up at the massive hills and could barely make out the top of the Virgin Mary's head peeking out above the trees. She summoned every ounce of self control and discipline she possess NOT to turn around to make sure Doggett was still behind them. A converted Catholic because of convenience of marriage but not by faith, Starkweather tried to remember the prayer to the Blessed Mother that the Catholics used. All she could remember was the beginning, and that was because it was also used as a football play, she was embarrassed to admit. <> she started to herself, but stalled. Along the side of the road, there was a side pointing up towards Trinity Heights. Bill took the turn and his car ambled up along the steep driveway to the religious retreat. Starkweather squeezed her legs together tight, just for the sheer relief of feeling her sleek little Beretta strapped to her ankle. At the fork in the driveway, Bob did not take the high road, which would have brought them sanctuary. He took the low road, ostentatiously pointing out the big sign that said "PRIVATE PROPERTY: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED" Doggett saw the little car make the turn, slowed his car down, parked, took the safety off of his gun and got out of his car. He pulled the walkie-talkie off of his belt and clicked the speaker button "They're heading off to Devil's Hollow. I'm pursuing on foot," he instructed the Sioux City PD. "Make no moves unless directed by me." Doggett had a feeling the kids were taking Starkweather on a snipe hunt so if all possible, he wanted to make sure that Starkweather's cover was not blown if at all possible. But on the other side, acting on his "old-school" NYPD Blue instincts, there was something not right about this. Even stoical, snotty, skeptical Starkweather sensed this, he heard it in her voice. He started running up the graveled driveway, following the taillights. The car ambled down the road into a small clearing. Bob killed the engine and the lights. The college kids and Starkweather ambled out of the car. By instinct, the kids along for the ride, Bill, Bob, Mandi, Tori, Cera and the boy Cera and Mandi were fighting over, Seth, all huddled together. Starkweather leaned against the car, reaching through Bob's open window to turn on the headlights. "Jesus, what're you doing THAT for??" Bob snapped. "So we can see them but they can't see us," Starkweather said, thoroughly bored. <> she mused. "There's nothing here Mandi," Cera snapped. "We didn't go in far enough," Mandi retorted like a fifth grader. "If we start walking that way," she pointed towards a grove of trees. "I bet you anything we'll see something..." "I thought the monsters came while you were doin' it in the car," Cera taunted her. <> Starkweather thought tiredly. "Look," now she was the one snapping. "I'm hot, I'm tired, this has been really fantastic, really, it's been great, but I'm not impressed, I have to be at the radio station at ten tomorrow, let's GO HOME." "Gawd, relax," Tori rolled her eyes, disappointed that her new roomie could be so uncool. "You sound like an old woman." <> she bemoaned herself <> But whether it was something in the air or the absence of sound make Starkweather slip out of her comedienne mode and into G-woman mode. Bob was shining his light hither and yon as they got closer to the trees. "Is that a house over there?" Cera asked, pointed to a building in the not to distant distance. "Somebody lives here?" Despite Cera's blathering, Starkweather heard a suspicious noise. "Shh," she said suddenly. "What?" Tori asked irritably. "Shut up," Starkweather said insistently. "Stay still, all of you," she took the flashlight from Bob and shined it expertly into the trees, towards the noise she heard. "Did you hear that or am I hallucinating?" "Hear what?" Cera asked, voice shaking. "Twigs," Starkweather said breathlessly. "Snapping twigs... like some one out walking..." From the trees, bathed in Starkweather's light, a tall figure cloaked in black robes leapt forth: "YAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!" It howled, swinging a club. The girls screamed and fled. The boys screamed like the girls and fled as well. Doggett, less than thirty feet away heard the screams and ran towards them. Starkweather held her ground. The robed man yelled again like an Indian from a really bad John Wayne movie and swung his club at her. Starkweather easily ducked; then slammed the flashlight into his knees, brutally clotheslining him. She could hear Doggett hollering her name. She also heard the lens of the light breaking against the stranger's knees, but that didn't matter for he went down like a sack of flour, which gave her enough time to crouch down and get her gun out of it's ankle holster. He was had started to get up just as she took the safety off and shouted out: "FREEZE, FEDERAL AGENT, KEEP YOUR ASS DOWN AND GET YOUR GOD DAMNED HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM. NOW!!!!!!!" Doggett had nearly gotten run over by the college kids fleeing in Bob's car. When the dust cleared, he pulled his flashlight out and shined it into the abyss. "STARKWEATHER???" he hollered. Then he heard "FREEZE, FEDERAL AGENT, KEEP YOUR ASS DOWN AND GET YOUR GOD DAMNED HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM. NOW!!!!!!!" He slowed his run to a jog. "You okay?" he asked when he reached her, drawing his gun, pointing it at the cowering whimpering man. "Never better," Starkweather safetied her weapon and stuffed it into her waistband of her jeans. She picked up Bob's flashlight, shined it onto the robed man's hooded face. "Keep your fucking hands where I can see them, buddy," she hissed as she reached to rip away the hood. "Oh my God," she said with a groan. "I took out Mister Rogers." An older man with a sweet face and silver hair, sat on the ground, shivering in terror. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I was just trying to scare those darn kids. I didn't know you were a federal agent." "Well what do you think I LOOK like!!" she exploded shrilly. Before anyone could open their mouths, Starkweather said "Don't answer that." Doggett shined his flashlight on his partner. "Holy shit," he said before he could stop himself. "Shut up," Starkweather mumbled. "George???" A feminine, elderly voice shouted from the building that Cera asked was a house. Suddenly, floodlights switched on and Doggett and Starkweather then realized that Devil's Hollow was someone's acreage farm. "George?" his wife hollered from the porch. "What's going on??" Doggett safetied and holstered his gun and held his hand out towards George. "Come on," he coaxed him. "We'll get you fixed up," he promised him. "She's a doctor." George looked Starkweather. "Oh Lord have mercy." "Oh Jesus Christ," Starkweather swore as she followed Doggett and George towards the farmhouse. Doggett pulled out his walkie talkie and informed the SCPD as he assisted the limping George inside. "All units, this is Agent Doggett, false alarm, repeat, false alarm..... George and Beverlee McCoy's home Behind Trinity Heights Sioux City, Iowa 1:37 AM In her cozy, countrified kitchen, Mrs. McCoy served Doggett a big glass of iced tea with enormous slices of fresh lemon bobbing along with the ice cubes. At this point, Doggett would have preferred a beer, but he opted for polite. Meanwhile, Starkweather wound another ACE bandage around Mr. McCoy's other knee. "There you go sir," she said. "Stay off your feet for about a week, the swelling should go down by then. If it feels really tender, soak in a tub of Epsom salts." She rose from the floor and wrote a phone number down. "If the pain intensifies, call this number. Federal agents will come and escort you to a secured hospital in Omaha, Nebraska, on Uncle Sam's dime. But I think you'll be alright. You're a lucky man, Mr. McCoy," Starkweather sat down and accepted a glass of iced tea from Mrs. McCoy. "I could have broken both your knee caps easily." There was no hint of bragging in her voice, just plain cold hard fact. "Oh, I told George he's far too old to be dressing up, but goodness knows, it's the only way we can keep those darn kids off our lands. Cookie?" She held a plate, heaped with sugar cookies, made from scratch, in front of the agents. Starkweather and Doggett smiled politely and took one to be nice. Neither one had a sweet tooth, but both felt extraordinarily guilty about what had just happened twenty minutes ago. Her hostess duties finished for now, Mrs. McCoy sat down and poured herself a glass of homemade raspberry iced tea, which Doggett and Starkweather had to admit, was very good. "Oh those rotten kids have been coming onto our land since the Seventies, tearing up our yard with their cars, necking, smoking reefer, doing goodness only knows," she seethed in her sweet Grandma voice. "George here got the idea that if he dressed up like a spook, he could scare those kids off. For the most part, it works. We've been scaring them for nearly fifteen years now," she said proudly. "You're the first one that fought back," she said admiringly. "I like to sit on the porch and watch them drive off." Doggett asked, "Do you have any troubles with the radio station nearby?" "Oh, goodness, no." She said brightly. "We love 101.3!It's our favorite station, isn't it George?" "Yes, dear," George said. "In fact, as soon as we get back, we switch it on in our car first thing!" "Back from where ma'am?" Starkweather said. "Back from Minnesota," Mrs. McCoy said, getting up to refill glasses. "We spent the summers up by the lakes in Minnesota and winters down in Texas. We're actually only here a few months out of the year. But it's nice to keep the house here. The kids like to come for the holidays. Christmas. Easter. I must apologize for the condition of our house, we just got home from Minnesota yesterday." "My husband is from Minneapolis, do you stay near there?" Starkweather asked innocently. "Um... it's two and half hours away, on a small lake outside of Alexandria on a summer resort call Sun Valley," Mrs. McCoy said brightly. "Do you and your husband go up to Minnesota often?" A strange pained look crossed Starkweather's face. "Not often.... "Oh, why not?" Mrs. McCoy asked innocently. "No time," Starkweather lied, fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Doggett looked closer to her and saw her wedding ring dangling from the chain. He frowned. "That's too bad, Minnesota is a wonderful place. We're going back next weekend but we had to come home for our brand new baby granddaughter's christening. She's the first girl in the McCoy family for three generations..." The agents visited for a bit more, then took their leave. They walked up the drive, towards Doggett's car in silence until he asked, "Do you think your cover's blown." "No," she said. "They were too busying peeing themselves to notice me." "Why didn't you run away?" She shrugged. "Not my job to run away." "Whaddya think about the McCoys?" "I have a sinking suspicion that their stories are going to check out. They're so clean, they squeak." "I agree." Doggett and Starkweather walked a bit further before he launched into a touchy subject. "You okay?" "I'm fine, pissed, but fine." "I just know that the last few months have been hell for you," he said slowly. "Your life hasn't exactly easy for you since you joined the X-Files. I know this job has wreaked hell on your personal life, your marriage." "My marriage was in havoc before I moved to DC, Papa John," she said sadly, smiling a little, to reassure him. "That's not anybody's fault but Ben and mine." "I mean no disrespect to you, Doc, you know that," Doggett said gravely, stopping in his tracks. Starkweather looked over her shoulder, her wildly curled and braided hair blowing in the hot summer breeze. In her Britney Spears rip-off outfit, she sauntered back to him. "You can talk the talk all you wanna," he said, "but I know you and I know what's happened to you and Ben last month is still tearing you apart," Starkweather looked away from her friend's face and stared at the ground. "But I need you here, I need you focused, I need you to cowboy up. If you can't do that, Doc, there's no shame in calling it quits right now and takin' some time. I'd understand, Skinner'd understand, Scully'd understand. It's okay if you're not up to this and you need to get away." "I'm up to this," Starkweather said evenly, raising her head so her determined hazel eyes meeting his concerned blue eyes. "Time is my enemy right now. I want to be here. Now." "Then you gotta take your wedding band off," Doggett said gently. "I know you wanna feel Ben close, but what if someone notices it. How is a college senior going to explain a diamond solitaire on a gold chain? A ring no starving college student could realistically afford." He saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "Starkweather, I'm sorry..." "No, you're right," she said quietly. "It was stupid of me to try and hide it. It could have provoked questions I don't want to answer. You take it, Doggett, and keep it until the fat lady sings, okay?" She tried to smile again as she fought tears. Doggett reached around her, felt her soft hair tickle his hands and wrists as he undid the clasp and took the necklace off of her. Starkweather squeezed her hands tightly together to stop herself from lunging at Doggett and snatching her ring back from him. Doggett put the chain around his neck and tucked underneath his black T-shirt. "It's right here, Starkweather," he said, patting his chest. "I won't let anything happen to it." "I'm counting on that," Starkweather said, freed of tears. "Come on, we gotta think of a good cover story for when I get back to those twits up at Rose Hill. I shudder to think that I could have possibly been that stupid when I was twenty." "I'm hoping," Doggett couldn't resist, he tried to stifle his laughter, but couldn't. "I'm hoping you at least had better fashion sense, Doc." "Oh, oh, FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK you man!!!" Starkweather began to laugh. "I bet Mulder would love a picture of you right now." "Oh, don't even!" Starkweather groaned loudly and walked ahead of him. They were just about to the car when Doggett, still in a rare playful mood, began singing under his breath "'Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game, ooh, baby, baby...'" Starkweather wheeled around and ran for him, tackling him. Doggett landed on his posterior but was still able to flip Starkweather over him good-naturedly. Starkweather tumbled into the dirt along the side of the deserted road. She sat up, giggling. "I swear to God, I'm gonna get all of you for this," she promised as Doggett helped her up.... Rose Hill College 2:59 AM Tori, Mandi, Cera, Bob, Bill and Seth had spent the last hour or so in Tori's room, arguing about the disappearance of Jeri. "Well, should we call the police?" Mandi shrilled, panicking completely. "I think we have to wait 24 hours before we can call for a missing person," Cera said, biting her nails. "I can't believe you left her back there!!" she shrieked at Bob. "I thought she was in the car!!!" Bob whined. "I wouldn't have left her on purpose!!!" "Omigod, omigod, she's dead, she's dead," Mandi sobbed hysterically. "Should we go back for her???" Bill's face was ashen. Just then the door was thrown open. The girl they knew as Jeri O'Brien glared at each of them from the doorway. "Jeri?" Tori bolted up. "Oh my God, what the FUCK happened? Are you alright??" Starkweather walked up and improvised a little in the scene she and Doggett concocted on their car ride back to the dorms. She walked straight up to Bob and punched him in the face. "Thanks for leaving me there, cocksucker!" she snapped, feeling no sympathy as blood began to seep from his nose. "Baby!" Tori squealed as she ripped Kleenex out of the box and frantically handed them to Bob to shove up his gushing nose. "Jeri, what the FUCK??" she repeated, angrily this time. "That was no monster!!!" Starkweather snapped. "That was an undercover cop, looking to bust people for messing around on private property and you all left me there with my ass hanging out!" She glared at each useless waste of life, as far as she was concerned. "I spent the last hour at the cop shop. Fortunately, they decided that I was so fucking pitiful because I got ditched, that they aren't going to press charges. Thanks to you all, I have five, maybe six hours of sleep before my first day on my internship. Thanks a lot guys. Now, everybody - GET OUT!!!" she raged. Everyone, including Tori, fled. Starkweather heaved a big sigh of relief. She looked around the room for a safe place for her gun and badge. She looked at her hamper and said "Ewww..." but she shrugged. She was pretty sure Tori wouldn't dig in her dirty clothes. Starkweather locked the door and stripped to bra and panties. It was too hot, even with the windows wide open, to wear anything more. She opened her sock drawer and pulled out a sweat sock. She sat on her bed, took the clip out of her gun, put the clip, the gun, and her badge in the sweat sock. Then, she stripped off her panties and wadded it around the sweat sock. She gently placed the camouflaged weapons and identifications into the hamper. Before throwing her dirty jeans and Tori's shirt in, she got a pair of clean underwear and slipped them on. Exhausted, she set her alarm clock, shut off the light and collapsed into bed. The next day KRRQ 101.3 FM River Country "The BIG Dawg" 2001 Indian Hills Drive Sioux City, Iowa 10:35 AM Carolina Sounder, traffic director, was just wrapping up the tour for her new intern. "And that's it," she said brightly. "What do you think? Overwhelmed yet?" Jerilyn Starkweather smiled dazedly. Actually she had only gotten four hours of sleep, her body, despite her aching brain screaming at it that she wanted to sleep longer, snapped awake at its usual ungodly hour of five-thirty. "Oh," she said, trying to sound coherent. "Wow..." was all she could garble out. The general manager, a big man with a jolly face came through the front door and up the short flight of stairs that lead to the front desk where the receptionist sat and where Carolina and Starkweather stood. "Ted?" Carolina stopped him. "This is our new little intern, Jeri O'Brien." "Ah," Ted Tiesdale smiled and held out his hand. Starkweather accepted it with a shy smile. "The new girl. From... Creighton, correct?" "Yes sir," she said politely. "Oh, god, please don't call me sir," he laughed, a booming successful business man's laugh. "Makes me feel old. Carolina, why don't you escort Miss O'Brien to my office. We have some...issues we need to discuss but we have to wait for our guest. Can I get you anything? Coke? Water?" "No, I'm fine, thank you," Starkweather replied. Carolina and Starkweather went into Ted's office, which was completely decorated in golf memorabilia. Carolina and Starkweather made small talk for a little bit and Starkweather found herself warming up to Carolina, who was bright, cheery and chatty, but not obnoxiously so. About fifteen minutes later, Ted came into his office, followed by Special Agent John Doggett. Ted unbuttoned his brown suit jacket and sat down. "Now, Jeri, I don't know if much Sioux City news reaches Omaha, but I am assuming you may have heard stories of... an incident that may have happened here recently?" "Um..." Starkweather demurred. "Some of the others staying up at Rose Hill had told me a girl was killed? But I wasn't sure..." she gave a half-fearful look to Doggett who looked at her stonily. "If that was true..." "Well," Ted said, true remorse in his voice. "Unfortunately it is. Her name was Candelauria Gallimore. She was working alone on an overnight shift when... it happened. But we are doing everything possible to find out was happened to her and to ensure the safety of everyone working here. This," he indicated to Doggett. "is Special Agent John Doggett. He came all the way from Washington DC to help with the investigation. I'm told," he said to Doggett, "that you're an expert at these kinds of cases?" "You could say that," Doggett said gravely. As planned, he turned to Starkweather and extended his hand. "Miss O'Brien, you have my personal reassurance that nothing is going to happen to you during my watch. I understand that you may have an opportunity to be on air?" Carolina answered for Starkweather "Normally we start our interns on the Sunday morning suicide shift on the AM station, monitoring the live church services and reporting the weather, but... with the loss of Candelauria... well, we need a weekender on-air personality." "Why?" Starkweather forced herself to ask timidly. "Well... most of our part timers got scared off," Ted admitted reluctantly. "It's a great opportunity for you though," he went on, typical salesman mentality, trying to put a good spin on a bad situation. "And this part of your internship will be paid. We'll start you at six dollars an hour." <> Starkweather couldn't help thinking while saying enthusiastically "Really?" "And Special Agent Doggett has generously volunteered to be with you during your shifts," Ted went on. "Are you comfortable with this, because if you're not..." "Oh no, I'm fine... I mean, I think I'll be okay," Starkweather said. "As long as he's going to be there, it makes me feel better," she nodded her head towards her partner. "Well good," Ted said cheerfully. "Why don't you go visit Pat, he's our business manager. We'll have you fill out some paperwork and you can call it a day. But we expect you back here tomorrow morning at eight AM. We'll start you in the business office and we have a promotions meeting at ten which I think would be very beneficial to you, don't you Carolina?" "Absolutely," Carolina chirruped. "We'll make her a well rounded little intern." <> Starkweather thought while Doggett excused himself to use the restroom. "Mr. Tiesdale, if you don't mind, if you have time, I would like to ask you a few questions after the ladies leave." "Absolutely," Ted said. "It would have to be quick, I have a meeting at eleven-thirty...." Carolina and Starkweather took their leave. Starkweather had just clamored into her car when her cell phone beeped, alerting her to a message. She pulled out her phone and saw the text message that Doggett had frantically typed while he was in the john: "Doc- Nice acting TLG called, got zip. Still looking. Call M&S later Call me 2300." Starkweather sent him a text message back: "Yes dad" Meanwhile Scully's apartment Georgetown 11:10 AM Eastern time Burdened down with her briefcase and grocery sacks, Special Agent Monica Reyes awkwardly rang Scully's doorbell. Scully, still in her pajamas, flung open the door, looking frazzled. Reyes could hear the baby wailing the background. "Rough couple of days, huh?" Reyes asked sympathetically. Scully took the groceries from Reyes. "What do I owe for this?" "Don't worry about it, you helped me plenty when I had my little mishap," Reyes said in her deep alto singsong voice. "I have the files and I'm taking a long lunch, so I'll let you and Fox flip through while I throw together a lunch and take Will off your hands for you." "Sccccccccccuuuuuuuullly????" Mulder whined from within. Scully, through gritted teeth, said her mantra out loud: "It's a miracle he's alive, I'm happy he's here." Reyes let herself inside, carrying the files to Mulder, who was fussing with Will in the living room. "Good morning Fox, I brought your files, can I hel-" she started to say before she started snickering at the potholders still duct taped to his hands. Mulder cuddled the itchy, whiny baby to his bare chicken poxed chest and scowled ferociously at Reyes who deteriorated into belly-aching laughter. Scully popped her head out of the kitchen door. "What's so funny?" Reyes, helpless with giggles, pointed at Mulder's potholders while Mulder still smiled angelically, rocking a snuffling Will. "Oh," Scully said, disinterested, went back to putting the food away that Reyes so generously bought. "Fox," Reyes said seriously while still wiping away tears of mirth out of her eyes. "Have you tried visualization to take you mind off the itching?" "Visualization?" Mulder said, unconsciously aping Scully's sarcastic skeptical tones. "When the itching starts to get to you, close your eyes, visualize and focus on something else, a pleasant scenario, a comforting thought, a secret fantasy...." Mulder did close his eyes, and smiled beatifically. "Hey..." he said "it's working... I'm visualizing duct tape over your mouth..." "MULDER!" Scully snapped... Scully's apartment, an hour later While Scully was making another unsuccessful attempt to lay Will down for a nap, Mulder reviewed the last X-Files case that took place in Sioux City for Reyes: "Back in October of ninety-three, Agent Scully and I were sent out to Sioux City to investigate the disappearance of a teenaged girl named Ruby. She vanished from a camping trip at Lake Okoboji with her mother and young brother named Kevin. The case heated up when we discovered what we thought were just the boy's drawings were really sketches of binary transmissions, which the boy claims, came to him from the television. Some thought it was from a defense satellite... others think otherwise..." "Ah..." Reyes nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "What happened with the case? Was there any resolution? What happened to that family? To the girl?" Mulder sighed. "Well, Ruby was found unconscious in a nearby woods. Her body exhibited signs of being weightless for an extended amount of time. Beyond that..." Mulder shrugged "We don't know... the mother took Kevin and Ruby and disappeared." "Abducted?" "We don't know. The mother took them and... poof..." "Do you think that case is connected to what happened at the radio station?" "According to the evidence so far, no, but I'm not leaving any stone un-turned," Mulder tried to open the thick file folder but it slipped from his potholdered hands and sheaves of paper fluttered everywhere. "Oh damn," he muttered. He leaned against Scully's couch and closed his eyes. "What is it Fox?" Reyes asked. "I'm trying that visualization technique you suggested for the itching," Mulder said pleasantly. "I'm visualizing you taking these damn things," he held up his hands "off of me." Reyes smiled. The phone rang. Scully cuddled Will as she rocked him to sleep. His lovely blue eyes, a gift from his mother, had finally closed when the phone rang. Will's eyes flew open and his little pouty lip began to quiver. "Ohhhhh, shit," Scully muttered as she rose to answer the phone. "Hello?" she answered irritably as Will began to whimper, not understanding why he was still so itchy and why Mommy was so crabby. "Scully? It's me." Scully had to smile just a little. The tiny unconscious similarities between Starkweather and Mulder amused her, especially when those filial nuances were pointed out to them. Mulder would just roll his eyes and sigh while Starkweather would curse solidly. "Is your line secure?" Scully asked as she tucked her cordless phone between her chin and shoulder and began to pace about in her bedroom, shifting Will's weight in her arms. "As secure as it gets with me, myself and my cell phone alone in my POS car," Starkweather said as she cruised down Hamilton Avenue, wiping sweat out of her eyes, as the air conditioning decided to break in her car this morning. "Doggett said to give you a buzz." "Hold on, let me put you on speaker," Scully said, now realizing that Will's morning nap was not going to happen today. "Mulder and Reyes are here." Starkweather rolled her eyes at the mention of Mulder's name. Although he was growing on her, the man somehow, almost preternaturally knew how to push her buttons. "Hi Hurricane!" Mulder said brightly when Scully put the speakerphone on. "Bite me," was the pleasant comeback. "What have you found so far?" Scully asked, still pacing with Will in her arms as Reyes took copious notes and Mulder listened intently, his hazel eyes shining with the lust of the chase... About twenty minutes later..... Starkweather told Mulder, Scully and Reyes about her adventures in Sioux City thus far. Starting with Preston the officious RA, to Barry the lovesick librarian's aid, to the Barbie Girl Posse, the bust at Devil's Hollow and her "interview" at the radio station, interrupted briefly as she drove through a Burger King. "So far, I've got squat." Starkweather said, chomping on fries as she sat in her car at the Burger King parking lot, one foot hanging out of the car window, a greasy bag containing a Big King, no tomatoes and a double order of fries in her lap. "Please tell me you guys are having better luck." "I wish we could," Scully groaned. "The Des Moines field office emailed me the lab reports from the autopsy. Toxicology was clean except for traces of nicotine. No drugs, illegal or otherwise in her system, no alcohol... nothing." "Poop," Starkweather said, a mild expletive for her. "Any chance we can get Quantico to order the body for re- examination here?" "I tried," Scully said. "The body is being released tomorrow for burial." "Goddamn it," she said. "I wish we could have gotten into town sooner so I could have poked and prodded at the body. What about forensics? Fibers, bodily fluids, fingerprints, anything???" "If there was any, the pink slime destroyed any other physical evidence that could have been on that body." "Okay, okay, wait a minute, the pink slime IS evidence? Did the crackerjacks at Quantico figure out what the hell it is?" "I got the preliminary reports but they're still working on it," Reyes spoke up. "So far, to give you the Reader's Digest Version, with the obvious exception of the translucent pinkish color, they say holds all the same properties of mucus." Starkweather nearly choked on the Coke slushie she was sucking down. "Snot?" Starkweather said incredulously. "you are kidding me." "Wish I was," Reyes said. "On the bright side," Scully jumped back in, "if it is human mucus that means we've got the killer's DNA." "Oh, great," Starkweather said. "What am I supposed to do, go find everyone in this smelly town who has a cold to blow their nose for me??? Besides," she said, unbuttoning two buttons of her sweat-drenched blouse, "Look how much there was. It covered the girl and then some. That's alot of snot to save. Of course," she mused, "we are in a more ruralized setting... could it be possible that it's animal mucus? Horse... cattle maybe? If the killer lives on a farm, a huge livestock operation, he could realistically save enough snot in a year to cover a small female." "I'll have the guys at Quantico check it out," Scully said. "What about that old Sioux City case from ninety-three? Any connections?" Starkweather asked. "We've just started," Reyes said, "on the surface, it doesn't seem to be connected but we're going to fine-tooth- comb it anyway." "Deputy Mayor," Starkweather said. "You're awfully quiet. Any insight Obi-Wan?" Mulder's eyebrows knit in concentration. He wished, REALLY wished he could be there. "I think... Reyes is right. I don't see any connection to this murder and the disappearance and reappearance of Ruby." "You're agreeing with me?" Reyes was almost speechless. Over the phone, Starkweather quipped. "Wow, it started snowing here in hell." Although they had never talked at great length together, Starkweather had hear enough about the catfights between "Spooky" and "that pushy bitch." "Agents," Scully said, despite Mulder's separation from the Bureau. "Please, can we continue?" "From your description of Barry, I don't think he's as close to the victim as he'd like you to believe. I think he knew her on a casual basis and the victim took advantage of his desperation for female contact and willingness to please to score free dope off of him. You're not going to get any useful information from him. You're going to have to become close to someone else." Mulder nibbled on Scully's potholder, which was beginning to look frayed. "If it's snowing in hell now, Starkweather, you're about to see a blizzard because I think Reyes is right on another point." He looked at the photographs lined up neatly on the floor, pictures of all the murder victims, lined up in chronological order. "The killer is trying to send out a message. Even though the girls were killed in different parts of the building, they were all found, laying prone on the ground, spread eagled, or as spread eagled as they could get as two of the victims, including the current victim, Candelauria Gallimore, were found in the disc jockey's seat, all were covered with pink goo, all died not from the pink goo-" "But from strangulation," Starkweather interupted. "No." Mulder said. "Pictures can deceive. Topical exams can deceive. All died from choking. The difference between choking and strangulation is slight, but a difference nevertheless. Gallimore was the only one found with the headset around her throat. All the other girls choked on their own blood and vomit. I believe if we can get on the phone with the ghouls in Sioux City that if they open her mouth and take a quick peek, they will see that she did not die via a cord around her neck, but by the blood and vomit in her throat." "Jiminy Christmas," Starkweather said. "If what you said is right, if those girls died from choking on their own blood and puke instead of someone else cutting off their air supply... what the hell is going on in there?" Reyes suddenly went pale. "Agent Starkweather, we've never been formerly introduced but I'm Special Agent Monica Reyes. Can you do me a favor?" "Okay... sure...." "The next time you are at the station, take something from there and send it to me." "Take something? Like what?" "It doesn't matter. A pen, pencil, something that has definitely been lingering there for a while. I don't know if Dana, Fox or John told you, but I have the ability to sense things..." "Uh-huh." "I'm feeling something, faintly, but I'm thinking I can feel it stronger if I touch something from the station." "You're an empath." Starkweather said suddenly. "What?" Scully asked "It's an unconfirmed psychic phenomenon. Most human beings have the ability to feel empathy for their fellow man, understanding the emotions the other person is experiencing, walking in another man's moccasins, blah blah blah. However, although it hasn't been proven, an empath takes it one step further. They can actually FEEL whatever emotion another person, have the same physical and psychological reactions to whatever another person is having while maintaining their own reactions and conclusion. Some people can even take it a step further than that... feeling the emotion presence of another being without the person or people are even there or who had passed through there in the past. It's based on that whole theory of the mind telling the body to produce certain scents called phermones and that we still have enough of the animal in us to smell a phermone and react accordingly. An empath is more in tune to the left behind phermones... so they say." Starkweather lectured. "or there's the other theory that the human mind produces enough electrical energy, commonly referred to by the layman as an "aura" which fluctuates with concurring moods and the empath can feel the aftershocks of that electrical fluctuation even when the person is gone where the average mind can not." "I'm impressed," Mulder said. "You should be," Starkweather said. "It was from one of your old papers from Oxford. I'm not sure if I believe that... but I'm willing to test the hypothesis. I'll send something as soon as I can... should I send it to the office at J. Edgar or should I send it to your home?" "Um," Reyes said. "Send it to my home." "Alright, well, I have nothing useful to offer and my phone battery is dying so I'm going to go back to the Animal House and see what kind of havoc I can wreak." "Be careful," Scully lectured. "Yes Mom," Starkweather said cheerfully as she hung up. "I'm going to leave you now," Reyes said, collecting her notes. "I have a little research I need to do, but do you mind me stopping back later on tonight?" "What kind of research?" Mulder asked. Monica Reyes hesitated. She had heard of the legend of Special Agent Fox Mulder before she even met him. Ever since she had accidentally stumbled across some of his old case reports when he worked in the Violent Crimes division (VICAP) and heard about his mythic adventures once he discovered the X-Files, she had admired his career from afar while busily pursuing her own. His quest for the truth inspired her to stop hiding her "gift" and to be herself, which, so far, hadn't harmed or hampered her career or personal life. He didn't know this though. She saw him "dead" before she even got to know him, to tell him. And once he made his "resurrection", she had boldly approached him to help her find resolution for the death of her friend John Doggett's son. At the time, Doggett and Mulder were bitter enemies. Her timing, for once, had been off and she found herself undeservedly on Mulder's shit list. Which didn't bother her because she had also heard about his nearly famous cutting tongue and almost world-renowned arrogance. What bothered her was that he didn't take her work seriously. Which pissed her off. After all, who had just spent ten years of his life chasing little green men? She privately wondered how Scully tolerated him. "Just going to work on a hunch, nothing more," she said pleasantly, voice like silk. "See you tonight." She knew she was right, she had felt it, faintly, as she listened to Starkweather in Sioux City. It was too far away to feel concretely, so she'd just have to prove it the old fashioned way... She also had the feeling that Starkweather was going to discover the same thing she was going to... Rose Hill College 3:33 PM, Central Time Starkweather slammed the car door shut, then slammed it again, for it didn't shut the first time. She wandered around to the other side and opened the other door to get the sack of groceries out along with her backpack. To her dismay, she discovered that the cafeteria was shut down during the summer so the summer residents had to fend for themselves. Which sucked. Tori didn't have a fridge or microwave, so Starkweather stocked up on bread, peanut butter, granola bars, crackers and chips. Speaking of Tori, she along with her "Barbie Posse" were lounging on the small brick wall jutting out from the building, lining the end of the cement wheelchair ramp before it sharply angled towards the front door. "Hi, Jeri," Tori said nervously, still shaken up by her new roommater after last night's events. "How was your interview?" "Okay, it went okay... look, I'm sorry I flipped out last night-" The trio began to gush: "Oh, god, don't!" "Honey, it was our bad, we left you!" "I would have done the same thing, don't you even worry about it!" While the elitist cliche made their double talk and false fronts, a lanky girl with too darkly dyed black hair sailed out of the front door. She didn't look at the girls sitting on the wall. She didn't look at Starkweather standing next to the wheelchair ramp, leaning on the rail, but, as she sailed down the wheelchair ramp on her rollerblades, she caught a small fistful of Starkweather's long hair and yanked a tuft out, causing Starkweather to drop her bag and yelp out: "OW!" She whipped her head around, rubbing where the hair had been pulled out... "You bitch..." Meanwhile... The X-Files Office 4:33 PM Eastern Time Reyes, sitting at Starkweather's desk, was using her computer to surf the Internet. Reaching for a pen out of a black mug with the mascot from Starkweather's old Air National Guard Base airbrushed on (a hideous red snake) Reyes accidentally knocked over a small framed candid shot from her wedding. "Oops," she said and as she touched the frame to set it up right, a sharp pain pricked the base of her skull, as if someone had pulled strands of her hair out. She let go of the picture frame and rubbed gently her scalp. <> She touched her head again, then touched Starkweather's picture. "Oh God," she whispered, horrified. She bolted for the file cabinet and started to dig... Sometimes Monica's gift scared her.... Back at Rose Hill... "You fucking freak!!!" Tori yelled lustily as the girl skated away. "That's Autumn Chamberlain," Tori snarled. "She's fucking weird..." Starkweather, still rubbing the base of her skull, turned to watch the girl skate further and further. <> Starkweather sighed to herself, who, under Scully's advice, had worn her long hair loosely to enhance her youthful facade. <> Starkweather suddenly wanted to get out of this town as fast as she could, but duty held her there. Rose Hill College 7:24 PM Autumn Chamberlain, hot, dirty and sweaty wheeled through the halls on her rollerblades until she came to her room where she screeched to a stop, leaving black skid marks on the dirty linoleum. She unlocked the door to her private room and let herself it. The room itself was tiny and unbearably hot. There was room enough for a closet, a bed a dresser, and a desk, which was built into the room. Autumn, who had been in this room since the beginning of her freshman year, had made it as comfortable as possible. By putting her bed up on a fairly high loft and having bean bags and large pillows underneath it, along with a mini-fridge with a small microwave sitting on top of the fridge. The dresser, she had shoved into the closet, making room for another desk, which she had squeezed at the foot of her loft bed. It was not only her working desk, but a footstool up into bed. The desk built into the wall next to the closet, across from her bed she used as shelves for her television, VCR and stereo. Above that desk, was a row of shelves where all of her textbooks and notebooks lived. She used the two drawers of her "shelf desk" as her cupboards for her dishes and snack foods. Her "working" desk had all the supplies for a normal student. Notebooks, pens, pencils, so on and so forth. Her closet had a clothes rack where her nicer clothes hung from. There were two shelves above the clothes rack where she kept all of her winter clothes, coats and shoes plus extra blankets. The medium sized four drawer dresser in her closet, held her socks, underwear, t-shirts, tank tops, shorts and jeans in three of it's drawers. The fourth drawer held her religion. After spending two solid years in that tiny room, Autumn had done everything within her powers and limited collegiate budget to make that room efficient and comfortable. But she still could not control the heat. The blinds were shut, as usual and there was a blanket with celestial symbols woven into the black fuzzy fabric covering up the entire window, like a furry curtain. The blanket fluttered in the breeze for, a usual, the window itself was open. A fan sitting, squished into a corner, pushed hot air around. Autumn locked the door behind her and pulled her Zippo lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to light all the candles in her room. She had quite a few, some she made herself. She was proud of her candle collection. Especially since lit candles were a contraband item in the dorms: fire hazard. Her translucent face bathed in candle glow, she ducked under her bed and flopped into a beanbag. Crossing her legs, she began to chant softly in a dead language. Ten minutes of meditation had passed before she realized that she was still holding the strands of hair she had ripped out of the new girl's head. Scootching closer to the giant candle burning in front of her, she thoroughly examined the hair. She had grabbed about five good strands. More than enough for a hellish spell though. Autumn observed the length and the color. She snickered a little. "You're not a natural blond, are you?" she said outloud to the hair. "You're not who you say you are, are you Jeri O'Brien." She whispered the last name again. "Jeri... Jeri... that doesn't sound right... what are you up to Jeri O'Brien?" Now clutching the hair tightly in her, focusing on the dyed blonde silken strands, she chanted in whisper over and over, "By the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see, by the powers of three times three, let me see, let me see..." In her mind's eye, she made herself see Jeri as she saw her a few hours ago, in a rumpled, sweat streaked white blouse and crumpled khakis, long hair blowing in the hot breeze. Tighter still, she clutched the hair, "Let me see, let me see..." Autumn saw Jeri again, only now that glorious mane of hair was yanked severely back in a bun. She was wearing an emerald green blouse and a black suit with creases so razor-sharp, fruit could have been sliced with them. She was standing in the middle of the road, on foot in front of the other. In slow motion, Autumn saw Jeri lift her arms up. She saw the gun in Jeri's hands. She saw Jeri's mouth moving as she was ferociously screaming something. Autumn could not hear what she was saying but she could read her lips: "F... B... I..." Autumn opened her eyes. She got up, careful not to bump her head. She threw the hair away and went to her closet and opened the bottom drawer where all of her books and tools were kept. She pulled out her journal and pen and by candlelight she wrote: "They've come, they've come just like I've seen them come in my dreams. They're here to figure out what happened to Candi Gallimore. I found out by accident tonight when I was playing a practical joke on Tori and her bitchy friends. One is here in the dorms, pretending to be one of us. I can feel her presence. She's very strong. In my dreams she has a partner, but I haven't sensed him yet. I am afraid. I am afraid because they are mundane and don't realize what they are getting into. They are dealing with magick taken to a dark place. " Autumn slammed her journal shut. "I am not going to deal with this shit," she decided aloud. Sometimes her gift scared her. Scully's apartment 8:35 PM, Eastern Standard Time Mulder laid a sleeping Will in his crib. Mulder hovered over the child's bed, awkwardly with his mittened hand stroking the silky strands of baby fine hair for a moment or two. "Poor Boo," he murmured as the baby fidgeted in his sleep. He was heartsick that the little boy was so ill, and completely frustrated that it was out of his hands to do anything. For the first time since the child's birth, he felt the icy hands of fear grip his heart and soul, the fear that plagued Scully ever since she learned of her pregnancy. He whispered his confession to the dozing infant: "I thought I could protect you from anything. But I was thinking like a FBI agent. I was thinking like a profiler. I thought of you like an X-File. I thought I could stop any monster or villian or alien who would try and harm you... "But I was never thinking like a father. I never thought of the little things that could snatch a child away. A random kidnapper, freak accidents, sickness. You could be taken away from us in one breath and I would be powerless to stop it and I would have to live for the rest of my life knowing there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. How could I look at Scully in the eyes if anything happened to you? How could Scully live without you? She loves you so much, little Will," he whispered on, his voice cracking. "How could I live without you? You know," he continued on, as if the child could understand him. "Your mom never told anyone who your natural father was. Still, to this day, she has never spoken aloud the truth of your paternity. And, I tell you what, kid, it pissed me off. I thought she didn't trust me. I thought all kinds of crazy things. I was lost, I didn't know where I belonged, where I fit in anymore at that time. But... you know what? I don't care anymore. Maybe it is me, maybe it's another man or... God forbid... another species that's your father, but I'm your dad, okay? I'm going to be your dad and I promise you... I'm going to do my best to be a good dad, but I hope you cut me some slack because I've never been a dad before. I've never had someone completely depend on me or mean so much to me before. More than my sister... or sisters I should say..." he said with a grin. Mulder too, had good reason to believe that somehow Starkweather was blood-related somehow -- there were too many physical and personality similarities to deny kinship -- and was led to him for some reason, but for now, that stone had to lay unturned. "... more than my parents, more than your mother even. Do you understand how much you mean to me? How special you are? What you represent to so many people?" He smiled at the sleeping babe. "Maybe someday you will." He was walking into the living room just as Scully was coming back into the apartment, carrying a big laundry basket full of clean clothers. She padded, barefoot in the living room and put the laundry basket on the floor. "He's asleep," he told Scully. Scully heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God," she said. "How are you feeling?" "Tired. Itchy. Hot. Other than that, fine." He walked up to Scully and cupped her worn face in his big hands and kissed her forehead. "Scully, I've behaved like a horse's ass for the past few days. I'd nominate you for sainthood, but you have to be dead for five years before the Catholic Church can do anything about it." "Mulder that was the worst apology you've ever given me." "What do you want me to do?" he teased "Drop to my knees and kiss your ass?" "You'd like that too much," but Scully had to smile. "Take your shirt and pants off. I'll put more calamine lotion on." "Doctor Scully," Mulder said as he pulled off the baggy cotton T-shirt he was wearing, handing it to her, "I think you're using that as an excuse to take my clothes off." "Shut up Mulder and lay on the floor." "Kinky," he said with a grin and complied after stripping off the sweatpants he had been living in the past few days. "I never pictured you as a dominatrix." Scully strandled his back and popped open the lid of the calamine lotion. "Now, if that was massage oil, we'd be in business," Mulder said slyly. He yelped as the cold lotion hit his broad back. "Oh I'm sorry," Scully said, the picture of innocence. "Was that cold?" "You're a cruel woman," he groaned as she gently rubbed the smelly ointment on his back. "And you are unbearable to be around when you're sick." "God, Scully," he said, "if we could just figure out what the hell is making me sick all the time. When I got out of the hospital, you even said I was picture of perfect health. I felt great, invincible even. There were no implants found in me or anything like that. It's as if a time bomb went off in my immune system. Even if the investigation Doggett and Reyes are working on with Kersh pans out and that bastard is kicked out of the Bureau, there's no way I can work in the X-Files again, not like this." "Don't give up on a miracle, Mulder," she said softly. Mulder started to roll over so Scully sat up a bit. Mulder finished his rollover and sat up, put his hands on her hips. Scully straddled his lap and put her sticky calamined hands around his neck. Still in a completely uncharacteristic sappy mood after his impromptu heart to heart with little William, Mulder smiled and brushed Scully's fiery hair out of her face. "My constant," he admitted tenderly. "My touchstone." "Mulder, what's gotten into you?" "Not what's gotten into me, who's gotten to me," he went on. "Scully, even when I'm being a total jackass, you've always been there. Even in the beginning, at Belle Fleur, Oregon the first time, even when you didn't like me a whole lot. You stood by me. You kept me honest. Even when I didn't want to listen or believe, you told me the truth." "So honesty is your turn-on Mulder?" "Along with candlelit dinners and long walks along the beach," he quipped playfully. "And backrubs with calamine." He kissed her forehead, then her lips. For the longest time, the two of them just sat there on Scully's living room floor, holding each other as if there was no tomorrow. Scully wrapped her legs around his waist and Mulder clutched her tiny torso like a dying man. He put his unshaven cheek on top of her smooth hair and said "Sorry for all the mushiness. I sounded like a damn Hallmark card." "It's okay," she said, kissing his throat. "Sometimes a girl needs to hear mushiness once in a while." "Really?" Mulder said. He began to croon in his execrably bad singing voice: "Near... far... wherever you are... I believe that heart does go on... once more... you open the door... and you're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on..." "Okay, stop, that's enough." Mulder laughed and kissed her again. And again, and again and the former partners lost themselves in the sacrament of each other... Until the phone rang. Scully got up, readjusted her clothing and went to answer before the ringing woke up Will. Mulder groaned. "If it's not the phone, it's the doorbell. If it's not the doorbell, it's an alien. If it's not an alien, it's a bee sting..." he complained. "Mulder, shut up," she said covering up the mouthpiece... "Agent Scully, it's Agent Doggett, I'm not disturbin' ya'll, am I?" "No, Agent Doggett," Scully said. "Yes, Agent Doggett," Mulder said back. "Shut up Mulder," Scully said for the third time that night. "I stumbled across a piece of information that may be pertinent, may not, I don't know... I'm hoping you and Mulder can maybe brainstorm with me for a moment." Scully put her phone on "speaker" mode. "Can you hear me?" Just then, the doorbell rang. Mulder slipped his sweatpants back on and went to let Monica Reyes in, holding a very old file, looking frazzled. "Sorry to come so late, Fox... am I disturbing anything?" "Noooooooooooooooooooo," sarcasm dripped off his tongue, "Come on in, we're having an X-Files reunion her, BYOXF." "BYO- what??" she asked as she walked in. "Bring Your Own X-File." As Reyes sat down, Scully said, "Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes is here as well." "Oh good, we can use all the brainpower we can get on this one." Just then, Scully's computer beeped. Scully looked over. "Doggett, Reyes, Starkweather is online, via AOL Instant Messager." She sat down to "talk" to Starkweather as well, typing furiously: Got Doggett on phone. Can you chat securely? Starkweather typed back: Am in coffeeshop with laptop. Alone. Chat away. PS: Am hotter than shit. Hope you're happy. Mulder, completely immersed in the male malady known crudely as "blue ball syndrome" threw his arms up in the air. "Why don't we call the Skin-Man while we're at it?? Make the party complete." "Mulder, SHUT UP," Reyes, Scully and Doggett said in unison. Grumpily, feeling completely ganged up on, Mulder, lower lip sticking out in a pout, slouched in Scully's easy chair. Starkweather typed: Is Mulder whining? Scully replied: Yes. Doggett spoke: "Now, I had an interesting little powwow with the GM of the station, a Ted Tiesdale. So far, he's coming out clean, but he did mention something that might be worth checking out, might not... he claims that during the time he's been with the station... he started in sales in..." Sound of rustling paper could be heard over the speaker phone, "1987. He was promoted to sales manager of 101.3 in 1989, general manager in 1994. Anyway, he said since the time he's been with the station, nothing like this has ever happened. HOWEVER... I was having coffee and doughnuts with a Sargeant Van Der Diem earlier tonight. He's been with the SCPD for over twenty years... and he said in 1985... a body of a young girl was found, spread eagled, in the parking lot of the radio station. Accidental overdose. She mistook heroin for cocaine and snorted it. She went into violent seizures, choked on her own blood and vomit." Scully relayed Doggett's words to Starkweather. Starkweather typed back: Really? "We were just talking to Starkweather earlier today," Mulder butted in. "How all the other victims did not die by strangulation, but by choking on their blood and vomit." "Yeah, Starkweather filled me in briefly on that in an email just minutes ago. I think she's trying to cool off in a local coffeehouse. Anyway, so I asked Van Der Diem to pull the file for me. Get this. The OD victim was a Melinda Widlowsky, originally from Denver, Colorado. She was a senior at Rose Hill, studying what at the time was called broadcast journalism, which has now been renamed mass communications. She was interning at the station at the time for her final graduation requirements." Scully filled Starkweather in. Starkweather typed back: Is he saying that Melinda may be the first victim??? Holy Nikes.... "So you think this Melinda is the first victim?" Scully repeated Starkweather's query aloud for Doggett. "Well, I thought so, but after reading the report, it was a straight forward OD. No trace of foul play. But... here's the clincher... it may fit in, it may not... now, I don't know much about the subject, haven't had the opportunity to read up much on it... but according to police reports, this Melinda was an openly practicing Wiccan." "Witchcraft." Mulder said. "Do you think... now this is a leap and you ALL know how I feel about leaps," Doggett said. "But could that have anything to do with what's goin' on at that station?" Reyes spoke up for the first time. "Wiccans have a nature- based, polytheistic deity belief system. They believe in peace and harmony between man and the four elements, wind, earth, fire and water. They have two basic tenets they adher to: 'An it harm none, do as ye will' and the Law of Three: "Any energy you send out will come back three-fold." In layman's terms, they believe in the "Golden Rule" of "Do unto others that you should have done unto you" that most credible, non-cultish religions preach. I have difficulty that a true Wiccan could be the culprit behind this." "Unless the murders of the girls is the energy coming back to the murderer three-fold," Mulder said. "Someone done wrong to Melinda and it's being returned to them in spades." "But who's the murderer?" Doggett asked. "Not the radio station?" "Reyes," Mulder said. "You said you had a hunch. Did you find anything?" Reyes took a breath and handed Mulder the files. Mulder glared at her, his hands were still in their potholder prisons. "Sorry," she smiled, taking the files back, opening them and handing Mulder the top sheet. "This is a case back in 1985, before Agent Mulder took over the X- Files, when it was handled by an Arthur Dales. He was sent to the Sioux City area because of suspected cult behavior. Several cattle in the area were found with ritualistic mutilations. A group of college girls from Rose Hill College were accused due to their religious beliefs." "They were Wiccan." Mulder said. "The SCPD were not educated in the ways of witchcraft, plus, mind you, Iowa is still considered "God's Country." If it's not Christian, it's the devil's handiwork. In some counties, especially Sioux County, even if you're Roman Catholic, you may be under suspicion by some less than open minded folks." "Catholicism IS Christianity," Scully said heatedly. "But Catholics and Protestants have been debating the validity of their worshipping practices for centuries," Mulder said. "Think about it Scully. England. Ireland. Scotland. The Inquisition. Our country was partially founded on people fleeing their homelands to escape religious persecution. The descendants of these people may have strong feelings against what drove their ancestors away, including the Catholic Church." "I've been told that Sioux County has mellowed in the past fifteen years in the area of religion, plus it's not fair to lump an entire state population into one stereotype," Reyes said gently, to stop a religious debate. Then, to put the conversation back on track, she said: "Agent Dales was sent up there, initially to gather evidence for an arrest and trial, but what he ended up doing was clearing the girls of any wrong doing. Turned out, it was just a mean- spirited prank by some local boys who couldn't hold their liquor." "Well, when cow-tipping loses it thrill..." Mulder said. Scully had been furiously typing to Starkweather even during her debate with Mulder. Starkweather responded: Was Melinda one of these girls??? "Was Melinda one of girls accused?" Scully asked for Starkweather. Reyes shook her head. "No, but I'm wondering if maybe Melinda knew these girls. I'm having our tech guys at Quantico running a check to see where they are now. Hopefully, they're still in the area and not scattered to the four winds. But... I believe there is a connection. I think that whoever played that hidious prank must have known the girls and tried to pin the blame on them. I believe that the same thing is happening now." Starkweather typed: I think I met a chick who's messing with the occult. Whether or not she's a good witch or a bad witch I'm not sure. Scully typed back: What makes you think she's in the occult? Starkweather replied: She ripped some hair out of my head and I noticed she was wearing a pentagram, but it was not upside down the way Satanists wear them. Still doesn't make me feel very good though. "Starkweather just said that she thinks she may have met a co-ed tonight who's dabbling in the occult." "WHAT?" Both Doggett and Mulder said. Reyes touched her head, remembering the sensation of hair being pulled from her scalp when she bumped Starkweather's wedding picture. "Can I 'talk' to her quick?" she asked Scully. Scully relinquished her seat. Reyes sat down and typed: Jerilyn, this is Monica Reyes, how are you? Starkweather typed back: Hotter than hell. Iced coffee is my best friend right now. Reyes typed: Did this girl pull hair from your head? There was a long pause before Starkweather responded: How did you know? Did Scully tell you? "What are you guys talking about?" Mulder asked Reyes. "Hello?? You guys still there?" Doggett asked. "We're here," Scully said. "Reyes is just asking Starkweather some questions." Reyes was writing back: I'll explain to you later how I knew. What happened before she pulled your hair out? Did you talk to her or...? Starkweather responded. Scully read aloud for everyone else's benefit: "I had just gotten out of my POS car. I was talking to my air headed roommate and her Christina Aguilera wannabe friends, then this chick wheeled by me on rollerblades and yanked hair out of my head for no apparent reason. My roommate yelled obscenities at her and then told me she's a freak. I just noticed her goth makeup and her jewelry. There wasn't time for anything else. Should I be worried about voodoo dolls??? If so, do you think she can make one of Kersh for us?" "Hey, now THAT would be cool!" Mulder said. "I'd have to agree," Doggett said. Scully read on: "I found her room number, it's 334, Oona Hall. I was about to email the Three Stooges to ask them to do a boring little routine hackjob for me. Could you save me a step and call them instead? Her name is Autumn Chamberlain." Mulder awkwardly grabbed his cell phone and held it out to Reyes. "It's number three on the speed dial." Reyes punched the appropriate buttons and handed the phone back to Mulder. "Frohike." "Melvin, you sexy bitch." "Mulder, whaddya want? We're in the middle of watching an "Unsolved Mysteries" marathon on the Lifetime Channel." "You guys are really sad," Mulder said. "Speak for yourself." "Can you do a quickie for me?" "Anything." "Autumn Chamberlain, 334 Oona Hall, Rose Hill College, Sioux City, Iowa. Need some information on her." "What kind?" "Anything. Grades, achievements, arrest records, speeding tickets. The usual." "That's not very exciting." "And 'Unsolved Mysteries' is so much better." "We'll have it for you in a few." Frohike hung up abruptly. Mulder shook his head. One of the reasons why he liked Frohike was because he was truly a man of few words. "Alright," Mulder said. "Tell the Hurricane that the boys are looking into Autumn right now. We'll know in a few hours if she's Glenda the Good Witch or the Wicked Witch of the West." Reyes relayed Mulder's message, albeit more tactfully to Starkweather. Starkweather typed back: I may have a lead, a better one than the Doughboy. "Who's the Doughboy?" Reyes asked out loud. "A fat kid who has a crush on Starkweather," Mulder said bluntly. Scully made a tsking noise at Mulder and continued to read over Reyes' shoulder as Reyes typed: Who? Starkweather responded. Again Scully read aloud: "Not tomorrow, but the next day, my dingy roommate's boytoy Bob is having a party for the victim's brother. He was living up at the dorms as well as Candi and he's returning after his sister's funeral. Bob is having a kegger in his honor. Isn't that sweet? Tomorrow night, I go on air." "And I'm gonna be there," Doggett said firmly. "It's all arranged. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to have in my hand a listing of everyone who was on the station's payroll from 1985 to now. Want me to fax you guys a copy?" "Sure, it will make great bathroom reading," Mulder smirked. Before anyone else could say anything, Mulder said, "I know, I know. Shut up." "Wow," Reyes couldn't resist. "He can be trained." Scully joined in. "It only took eight years." Doggett snickered over the phone. Starkweather typed: There is a lull in the IMing... are you guys making fun of the Deputy Mayor without me??? "What did I do to you guys?" Mulder demanded. "You shoved me into a couch after I saved your ass," Doggett said. "You were rude to me the first time we met," Reyes said. "You were rude to ME the first time we met," Scully said. "You stereotyped me as a skeptic and anti-X-File before you even bothered to get to know me," Doggett said. "You called me 'pushy'," Reyes said. "You thought I was sent to spy on you at first," Scully said. "You call me 'Puppy-Man'," Doggett growled. "You think I'm a flake," Reyes added. "You teased me when Queequeg got eaten by an alligator," Scully pouted. "You completely and totally stepped on my toes the entire time we worked together in an official capacity," Doggett railed. "You made fun of my hair." Reyes said. "Alright, alright..." Mulder groaned. Scully said, "I'm having the weirdest sense of deja vu right now." Over the phone, Doggett said, "Me too." The next day, 12 days left of the investigation KRRQ 101.3 FM 10:25 PM Central Standard Time "Do you think you can secure a band if we do this, if we agree to sponsor this?" Ted Tiesdale asked his program director, Reece Jackson, a long lanky man with beady little eyes and stained teeth in a big face. He laughed alot and agreed with everything Ted said. The radio station was trying to decide if they wanted to sponsor a street dance on the Friday before Labor Day. From the biting, bitter comments from Ted and Dustin Hoesling, the sales manager for KRRQ, they sponsored one last year and it was a spectacular failure and a phenomenal loss of revenue to the station. Ted and Dustin weren't to eager to repeat last year's mistake. "Oh sure, oh sure," Reece said feverishly. "I'll get someone good, but not too big. Some up and coming. Like Trick Pony or Jamie O'Neil or something." <> Starkweather thought, Ted, Dustin, Reece and the promotions director/afternoon on air personality, Taran Culver, continued to bicker on about cost and time and effort. Starkweather, dressed in a t-shirt and khakis slacks because Carolina said "that was okay", kept eyeing the pen Reece was chewing on. With the exception of Ted, who wrote with an elegant gold fountain pen that Starkweather knew he would miss if it turned up missing, Reece had been there the longest, since 1985... a little bell chimed within her. She had a little notebook she was doodling in, fooling her new "superiors" into thinking she was taking superculious notes, truth be known, she didn't give a damn about their petty little business meeting. She did not write herself a note to remind herself to contact the Lone Gunmen to check Reece Jackson out. She didn't have to. One of Starkweather's traits that made her "special", almost eerie, was her 99.9% accurate photographic memory. If she told herself to do something, she would remember to do it. If she told herself to remember something, she would remember it, every minute detail in vivid colors and whispering sounds. When she was fourteen, when her parents made the decision to accelerate her through high school, her guidance counselor gave her a standardized IQ test... her results were off the charts. Another oddity about Starkweather was her almost alien ability to concentrate on two subjects at the same time. While the radio people where debating on and on about the validity of sponsoring another potential flop, Starkweather was busy arranging and rearranging evidence and theories about the murder case like living room furniture. But no matter how she put it together, it just didn't look right. Something was out of place. Although she was obsessing and fretting over the case, ever aware of the ticking clock reminding her that when school was officially in, she HAD to be officially out, when she was asked a question: "What do you think, Jeri?" "I think... that Taran is right and if we're going to do this, we need to schedule a rain date and up the pricing for advertising, justifying the cost with the need for a rain date." She didn't have to pause or stumble, she knew exactly what they were talking about. "The girl's a genius," Dustin said appreciatively, a big smile on his expansive boyish face. <> Starkweather thought egotistically, hiding her thoughts behind a pretty girlish face. "Well, that wraps up what's on my agenda," Taran closed her folder with a snap, checking her watch. "I have a remote I have to be at in an hour, so if you don't mind," she excused herself, exiting the room. A general exodus occurred, but Reece stopped Starkweather for a moment. "Just wanted to touch base with you, you know. See how you're doing and all," he spoke at a manic pace, as if he was still on air. Starkweather, half serious, half not, wondered if he was on drugs. "Are you excited for your first night on air?" Starkweather barely got a word in edgewise before Reece rambled on. "I like a good strong female voice and you have a good voice. You'll do a great job. Now I know we had some problems in the past with security, but we're working on that and until we find whoever it is that's making all the trouble, we've got that guy from the FBI to stay with you. Plus we'll have the overnight guy coach you on your first night." <> Starkweather thought frantically. She and Doggett were counting on having the station to themselves. "Um, Taran showed me how to run the board this morning. I think I can handle it." "Oh good, oh good, but Ace will be there anyway, he likes to come in late and work on production. He's a night owl," Reece totally ignored her. "Now we just have to think of a good air name. Jeri O'Brien isn't very radio friendly. Is Jeri your entire first name?" "No, it's Jerilyn, actually." "Oooh," Reece frown, his face scrunched up in horror. "I'm sorry man, did your parents not like you?" he laughed at his own pitiful joke. Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, named for the good people who adopted her, the Admiral Jeremy Bailey and his wife, Lynette, bridled visibly at the program director's unintentional insult. "It's a family name," she said as civilly as possible. "That sucks," Reece said cheerfully. "Well, we'll give you a new name. Most of the people who work here have air names. Like Carolina? She started her as an intern from USD. Her real name is Sue or something, I don't even remember anymore, but she started on air and now she works in traffic. And Taran's a Kayla, I think." Starkweather's heart faltered even more. <> She realized that the man she was talking to probably wasn't even named Reece at birth. <> she moaned to herself as Reece babbled on, typical DJ who loved the sound of his own voice, <> "Jazzy Star." "What?" Starkweather just wanted to be sure she heard him right. "Your new name, your on-air persona, Jazzy Star, like a new shining star the horizon. Plus, now I'm not trying to be sexually inappropriate or anything, but you're such a cute girl and Jerilyn... ugh... what a bad name for you. It's so serious and uptight. Jazzy just fits you better I think. When I saw you, I thought, 'what a jazzy girl we're getting here!'" he said proudly. <> Starkweather prayed. Being dubbed "The Hurricane" was bad enough. "Um, how about Bailey for a first name?" she asked timidly. "BAILEY??? Ugh, WHY???" "What about Starkweather for a last name?" she asked in vain. "Stark- what??? Why on earth would you want a name that sounds like a wicked storm?" he shook his head in wonder. "No reason," she muttered, conceding defeat. "Well, I'm going to go make up the weekend schedule. See you later," he left in a rush, leaving behind the pen he was nibbling on which Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather AKA Jeri O'Brien AKA Jazzy Star snatched and slipped into her pocket for Agent Reyes back in DC.