From: "Katherine Adams" <suicidal_mickey_mouse@hotmail.com>
Date: Tue, 13 Aug 2002 04:48:24 +0000
Subject: Starkweather: One Nation, Indivisible
Source: direct

Title: Starkweather: One Nation, Indivisible
Author: Scully3776
Rating: R (sensitive situation, violence, cussing)
Category: A, R
Keywords: MSR, Doggett/Other
Summary: Fourth story in the Starkweather series, to follow Rex-Tremandae 
and preceed Meum Mel 1.  Doggett and Starkweather happen to be in New York 
City on 9/11. Due to the senstive nature of the content of this story, 
reader discretion is advised.

Starkweather: One Nation, Indivisible

September 17, 2001
Monday
MNBC New York Studios
8:40 am, Eastern Standard Time

"Alanda?" The young intern knocked on her dressing room
door. "Twenty minutes."

Alanda Klein turned away from the mirror. "Thank you," she
said calmly. She stood up and gathered her note cards she
had been studying. She took a deep deep breath. This was
the big one, the big interview that could make or break her
journalism career. She had worked long and hard, eked out a
meager existence post college by working at the mall at the
Gap so she could work part-time at a television station,
keeping her toe in the door. She had moved far far from her
small home town in Alabama, successfully shed her Southern
twang, much to her grandmother's shame, sacrificed
stability, turned down two marriage proposals and three
more financially secure job offers, for this. It all boils
down to this moment. This moment would decide whether she
would be the next Barbara Walters or the veejay for E!
Entertainment.

The irony was, if she could, she would wish away this
moment forever if the events in the past week that led her
to this moment would have never had happened.  She would
trade in all the money, all the perks, all the fame, for a
second of normalcy, to live forever, the ten minutes before
8:45 AM Eastern Time, September 11, 2001.

She took a breath. She was not God. She was not a time
traveler. She was just trying to do what she felt, and what
her producer felt and what her new editor felt was right.
She hoped what she was doing would be perceived by the
nation as right and not as "tacky" or as "rating-grabbing."

She reviewed her notes one last time before stepping out of
her dinky dressing room.  This interview would not be easy,
for anyone.

One, because they weren't going to be very talkative about
the nature of their official involvement, partially due to
national security, which was of course, completely
understandable. But mostly because of their recent credo of
"The FBI must look good at all costs", a mantra mandated by
Deputy Director Alvin Kersh, which, most of the press
agreed, was a royal pain in the ass.

Two, the male agent, was notorious for being the "strong,
silent, supportive" type, emphasis on "silent" when it came
to interviews. He was going to be a real challenge to open
up, especially the losses he had to have suffered this
week.

But as difficult as he was going to be, his partner, the
female agent, was going to be worse. According to her
sources, she was just a bitch from the word go. She was one
of those "too smart for her own good." Alanda had been
warned by several sources that the female agent had a sharp
tongue and would have no problem cutting her down to size
on national television.

Alanda put the note cards in her pocket. She was as
prepared as she was ever going to be. She had the
experience, she had the training, she even had the
compassion. She just prayed she had the talent to be a star
journalist, that she could do the impossible, which was to
put a human spin on an tragic act, that she could show her
suffering nation, that good can prevail out of evil...

Alanda walked onto the set. The agents were already there,
seated while make-up artists touched up their foundation,
which the male agent was grimacing throughout the entire
process. Alanda pulled out a note card. "John Doggett," she
whispered to herself as she adjusted her very conservative
navy suit while standing in front of the mirror. "Special
Agent John Doggett and Special Agent Doctor Jerilyn Bailey
Starkweather."

She hoped she was pronouncing their last names properly.
Nothing blows credibility than having your guest correct
your pronunciation.

The make up artist finished with Agent Doggett and came
over to her, added a little more powder to her face, made
her blot her lip stick, adjusted the collar of her black
silk blouse. "How are they doing?" she asked the make up
artist as she dabbed just a hint of blusher to her high
cheekbones.

"Nervous," the artist replied blandly. "Just like you."

"Alanda," the director whispered. "Five minutes."

"Thank you," she said as the sound guy came and clipped the
microphone to the lapel of her suit. She then crossed over
to the stage, where the agents where sitting in comfortable
taupe chairs. Alanda first went to John Doggett, who,
although looked drawn and exhausted, appeared more
approachable than his partner, who was pale and nervously
fiddling with what looked to be a wedding ring, but these
days, who could really tell anymore.

"Agent Doggett," Alanda held out her hand.  She liked the
way he rose from his seat to shake her hand. "I'm Alanda
Klein, it's nice to meet you sir."

"It's nice to meet you too, ma'am," Doggett said politely
as he sat down again, adjusting the microphone on his
somber gray tie.

Alanda turned to his partner. "Dr. Starkweather." At the
sound of her name, the doctor tilted her head up at the
reporter and smiled thinly as she held out her hand. The
hollows in her cheeks and the heavy purple rings on a face
that normally was so deceivingly girlish and sweet struck
Alanda like a backhanded slap in the face. <<This woman has
been through hell>> she realized as she clasped her hand
warmly. "Thank you for being here today, Dr. Starkweather,"
she said sincerely. The doctor only smiled and nodded her
head.

"Alanda," the producer said. "One minute."

Last second checks. Water was poured for all three and the
pitcher left behind. Alanda got her notes out of her pocket
and held them incompiciously in her hand. The lights
dimmed. Alanda closed her eyes, then opened them, keeping
them glued on the cameraman who would give her the cue she
desperately needed to start her job.

The intro music played on the speakers. The lights
brightened over the main anchor desk. Alanda barely
registered the anchorman's opening remarks as she focused
on the cameraman who was whispering "Eight... seven.... six..."
he then held up his hand to count down the last seconds...
five... four... three... two... one... and the nation's eyes were on
her as light re-entered her world.

"I'm Alanda Klein," she said clearly, calmly,
professionally. She continued to speak in such a cool,
comforting fashion as she read off the teleprompter.
"September 11, 2001. The day the towers fell, the day
security at our military headquarters was breached. The day
of incredible cowardice, the day of inspiring heroism and
devastating loss. The day we, as a nation, will relive in
our nightmares, both asleep and awake for many years to
come. It is difficult for those who do not live on the East
Coast to comprehend the massive destruction caused by these
faceless enemies. The words 'surreal', 'unbelievable', and
'unfathomable' are popular adjectives used to describe the
events of last week. We all saw the images on our
televisions, of the airplanes, smashing into the World
Trade Center Towers and then again, into the Pentagon, and
then again, crashing outside of Pittsburgh. We watched the
Towers collapse upon itself and the city coated in its
ashes. Watching these images, over and over, does gift it
with a sense of surreality, as if we're watching a bad
action movie..."

Alanda turned to Camera B, the camera used to pan out to
get a group shot of the interviewers and interviewees.
"Today, we will replace surreal with real. Today we will be
speaking to two people who were at Ground Zero when the
attack transpired...."

"And we're clear," the cameraman said as they cut to a
video tape feed of the brief photographic history of John
Doggett and Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather while Alanda
illuminated the highlights of their personal lives and
careers through a previously recorded voice over. Alanda
watched the video monitor in the corner, listened to her
own voice telling the brief life history of the agents:

"Born in Democratic Hot Springs, Georgia, Special Agent
John Doggett spent his childhood in the South. At the age
of five, his family moved to the coastal city of Savannah
where he stayed until he enlisted in the Marines at the age
of eighteen. Former classmates and teachers all have said
none of them had been surprised at any of Agent Doggett's
career choices, that those choices mirrored the kind of
person Agent Doggett has always been, even as a small boy."

The video feed, (after it got through it's predictable
montage of John Doggett as an infant, as a gap-toothed,
brushy haired seven year old in his Boy Scout uniform, as a
lanky, awkward looking fifteen year old playing junior high
basketball and as a handsome young man in a tuxedo pinning
a corsage on his senior high school prom date) then segued
to the taped interview segments.

In a thick Georgia drawl that was almost incomprehensible,
Doggett's second grade teacher, Mrs. Suzanna Browning told
the world: "Johnny was always a good boy. He was never
cruel as sometimes youngsters can be. Not to say he was
perfect, he liked to roughhouse just like most little boys
do, but he was never mean. Never picked on the kids who
were normally the ones who got bullied. Never started
fights either. It was a real joy to having him in my class
and when I saw him on the TV, after all what had happened,
it was a real sense of pride to me to be able to say, "Yes
sir, he was one of my kids.""

The next taped segment was of one of Doggett's former
classmates, Lindsay Buckle, a defense attorney in Atlanta,
Georgia. "Being born and raised in the South, of course we
are going to be in the spotlight more than other states
when it comes to the issue of racial discrimination. Plus
we are always going to have the problems with the "good ol'
boys" who think that bigoted remarks and actions are okay.
One of the things I remember most about Johnny was that he
never really acted that way, ever. Even when he would be
hanging out with the jocks and they'd start making their
little derogatory jokes, Johnny never joined in. He was
always the peacemaker. He'd be like 'C'mon y'all, that's
not cool.' He was never a snob either. He wasn't the most
popular boy in class, he wasn't the rich kid or the
football star, but everybody liked him. "

Alanda's voice came on again as more pictures of John
Doggett were trotted out. This time of him in his Marine
dress blues during his graduation ceremonies, then in a
police uniform during his graduation from the police
academy, then in a somber black suit, crisp white shirt and
slate gray tie during his graduation from FBI training.
"Agent Doggett's colleagues during his years with the
Marines, the New York Police Department and with the
Federal Bureau of investigation also expressed how he was
not only a likeable person to be with, but also
dependable."

The footage now cut to a taped interview with Special Agent
Doctor Dana Scully, current head of the X-Files Division of
the FBI.  "Agent Doggett and I did not meet under the best
of circumstances and it took me a long time to trust him as
my new partner. Even though I had extreme doubts about his
expertise to handle the kind of bizarre cases that fall in
the X-File jurisdiction, he stepped up to the challenge
each time, excelling each time, learning each time. Also,
he was very supportive of me during a very difficult period
in my life when he had absolutely no reason to be since I
was not as kind as I perhaps could have been when we were
first partnered up. However, I can say now with full
confidence that Agent Doggett is a very ethical and through
investigator and it has been an honor for me to not only
work with him, but to also count him as one of my friends."

Alanda's voice over blended the footage from the Agent
Scully interview to a taped interview with Special Agent
Monica Reyes, Scully's current partner in the X-Files. "But
Agent Doggett has had his share of tragedies as well where
friends rallied to his side. Just shortly after graduating
from the FBI Academy, his son, Lucas John Doggett was
kidnapped and murdered when he was seven years old.

Agent Reyes began speaking. "It was a terrible time. Both
Doggett and I were on the scene when we discovered Luke
and..." she shook her head. "John is a very strong man. He
bore the anguish of such a senseless and heinous crime with
dignity, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes. But... I
don't feel it's very appropriate for me to go on, since
this is such a private tragedy and not necessarily for me
to expound on, especially on national television. However,
I will say that I believe that John's strength comes from
his deeply rooted beliefs in the sanctity of family and
defending those who cannot defend themselves. I believe
that is how he got through the pain of losing his only
child. I believe that is how he will get through what
happened that horrible day in New York and Washington DC.
And I believe he will receive support from his friends and
family here in DC and back home in Georgia. If he hadn't
had such a warm, stable childhood, he would not be the good
man we all admire."

Alanda's voice again broke in as Agent Reyes's face faded
out and still images from Agent Starkweather's infancy and
toddlerhood faded in. "If John Doggett had an uneventful
childhood, his partner, Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather had
anything but.  Jerilyn Starkweather had what might be
called a modern day Cinderella story. Discovered in the
backseat of his car by what would become her adoptive
father, the Admiral Jeremy Bailey of the Unites States
Navy, Jerilyn was a victim of severe malnutrition and what
appeared to be systematic ritual abuse."

The frame cut to the aging doctor who cared for her when
the Admiral and Lynette Bailey took Jerilyn to the naval
hospital at Pearl Harbor. "It was 1973, so stories of abuse
were not as prevalent as they are now," said Dr. Rory
Mendelsson. "But this child, when the Baileys brought her
to me, she was half-dead from extreme child abuse. Whoever
her biological parents were, they, in my opinion, have to
have sprung from the very bowels of hell for they treated
this child like a science project. She was cut up,
dehydrated and starved. They even pulled her fingernails
out, an infant, aged three months. We did not expect to her
live through the night. If she did live, we expected the
psychological and the physical damages to be severe. I
warned the Baileys that if they decided to pursue adoption
for this child, they would be adopting a special needs
child."

Alanda's voice over continued as more pictures of
Starkweather as a little girl with pigtails, as a preteen
with surprisingly short boyish hair, holding up a great
white cat with a blue ribbon attached to its neck and then
as a teenaged girl graduating from high school two years
early, posing for a picture with her father.

"She not only shocked and surprised the doctors by
surviving the night, but growing up to be healthy and more
than an average intellect."

"I saw Jeri thirteen years later and I couldn't believe it
was the same person," Dr Mendelsson said in a voice as a
scene from a home movie of Jerilyn's thirteenth birthday
party played. "She was healthy, she was psychologically and
physically sound but also, interestingly enough, she seemed
brighter than most kids at that age. With the permission of
her parents, I gave her a standardized IQ test.... Even at
that tender age, her results were off the charts. She
couldn't be measured. I asked her afterwards, out of
curiosity, what she wanted to be when she grew up. She
said. 'A doctor.'"

The next picture was of Agent Starkweather in military
fatigues with friends. "After graduating from high school
at age sixteen, Agent Starkweather completed two years of
undergraduate study at the University of Arizona before
enlisting in the United States Air Force."

The picture cut away to Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey,
Agent Starkweather's stepmother. "When I first met Jeri, I
thought it was odd that she went into the Air Force and not
the Navy like her father. Turns out, before her mother lost
her life to cancer, she asked Jeri to promise not to jump
right into going into the military, especially the Navy,
but to enjoy life a bit before committing. To at least wait
until she was 18. And if she still wanted to go into the
military, research which branch would be best for. Then her
mother died shortly after that talk. And Jeri took her
promise to heart."

While pictures of Agent Starkweather in the Air Force
played ad nauseum, Alanda's voice droned on: "Trained as a
medic, Agent Starkweather completed not only her BS but
also her pre-med requirements while in the service. She
transferred out of Active Duty into the Air National Guard
so she could attend medical school at the University of
Iowa. While working her weekend duties at the 132nd Fighter
Wing in Des Moines, Iowa, she met her husband, Benjamin
Starkweather, also an Airman in the Air National Guard, but
at the time, a law student at Drake University in Des
Moines."

A mutual friend of Ben and Jerilyn, Master Sergeant Adam
Cattsman came on, dressed in fatigues and wearing a beret.
"They clicked right away. It was... I don't know... sweet. They
weren't like passionately in love, more like best buddies.
Good friends.  Never sappy or mushy but they were good to
each other. They were good for each other."

Predictably, their wedding picture aired next, Benjamin
Starkweather, freshly retired from the Guard, finally had a
chance to let his hair grow out. He looked like a hero from
an old movie from the Forties with his suave black tuxedo.
Meanwhile, his bride, dressed in a simple, off-the-
shoulders white gown, clung to his arm with one hand and to
her massive bouquet of roses, ferns and baby's breath with
the other. In her curled hair, she wore a crown of roses
instead of the more traditional veil. She looked sweet,
fresh-faced and incredibly innocent. "Shortly after their
marriage, it was back to school for Agent Starkweather. But
not the rounds and rotations a student fresh out of medical
school would be expected to make."

The film cut back to the Master Sergeant. "Airman Bailey --
even after she got married, we still called her Bailey,
otherwise both of 'em would answer if we'd said
"Starkweather." Anyway, Airman Bailey had been making
noises about the FBI for years. Anyways... she passed her
boards, became a doctor, got married, became a wife... then
went off to Quantico and became a fed."

Again predictability was a key factor as the next picture
was of Agent Starkweather at her graduation from the FBI
Academy. "After graduation, Agent Starkweather returned to
work at the Minneapolis Field Office and to resume life
with her husband. A year later, Assistant Director Walter
Skinner put out a notice to the Bureau that there was a
vacancy in the X-Files Division, which desperately needed
to be filled. Of all that were interviewed, Agent
Starkweather was appointed to transfer to Washington DC..."

Back on the set, Agent Starkweather whispered her first
smart-assed comment to Agent Doggett. "I was the only one
who interviewed," she muttered.

Alanda cringed at her remark, thankful that the microphones
on their clothes were turned off. At least the montage
looked nice.

"... where she was partnered with Special Agent John Doggett
in the X-Files Division.  Through the brief time they have
worked together, they have not only become partners, but
very special friends. Working closely together, exploring
crimes with its roots in unexplained phenomena under some
times dangerous circumstances, Special Agents Doggett and
Starkweather gained a one-in-a-lifetime relationship based
on trust and respect."

Alanda looked over to see Agent Doggett shaking his head
and rolling his eyes. She heard Agent Starkweather grumble
"Barf," under her breath. Alanda learned from her first
mistake -- never disregard your first instincts. When she
first read the copy for the montage, she thought she was
going to go into diabetic shock, but the producer okayed
it, saying "We want the public to see them as human beings,
not just as suits with guns."

Next time, she would fight them harder if she thought the
copy was crap. The interview was going to hell already
because of it and she hadn't even talked to them yet.

Thankfully the montage  ended. The camera was back live on
her. "But even that relationship, like everyone else in the
nation, was put to the test on September 11. With me today,
are Special Agent John Doggett and Special Agent Doctor
Jerilyn Starkweather. Agents," she said formally. "Thank
you for joining me today."

"Thank you," Special Agent Doggett said in his gravelly
Southern-New Yorker accented voice. Special Agent
Starkweather only nodded her head.

"Special Agent Doggett," Alanda went with her first
instinct and spoke to the guest she thought would open up
to her first, "tell me, what brought you and Special Agent
Starkweather to New York City that day?"

Special Agent Doggett heaved a sigh before he began. It was
painfully apparent he was not comfortable in front of a
rolling camera. "Well...."

***************

Monday, September 3, 2001
Labor Day
Special Agent John Doggett's apartment
11:09 AM

Unlike his companions in the X-Files Division, Doggett was
actually sociable. When he was granted time off, he did not
take it upon himself to clean his apartment from top to
bottom, to catch up on case reports or do yard work. He
actually would call up friends and family to spend time
with them and enjoy their company. A foreign concept to
most involved with the X-Files.

In fact, already, the Thursday before Labor Day, he was
already packing up his belongings, loosening his tie and
whistling through his teeth. Starkweather looked up from
her computer, a puzzled expression on her doll's face.
"Dude," she looked at the clock, "it's only three. Where do
you think you're running off to?"

"I'm off," he informed her with a smug grin. "I requested a
half a day today and all of tomorrow off. I'm going on
vacation."

"Vacation???" The puzzled look became mock perplexed.
"We're allowed to have vacation here? Since when?"

"Since now." Doggett said. "I'm goin' to Atlanta for a few
days. Gonna see my friends.

"You have friends?"

"Ha."

"And I suppose these friends are NASCAR-junkies too, huh?"
Starkweather smirked naughtily. "Gonna go see the fast cars
go vroom vroom?"

Doggett had squirmed. Sometimes, he wished Mulder would
come back to the X-Files, just so he wouldn't be the lone
male in the basement. Starkweather, Scully and Reyes
sometimes gained up on him unmercifully, especially about
his "manly" pursuits. Starkweather, no surprise, was his
chief tormentor.

"I'm comin' back Sunday. Can you water my plants?"

"Sure."

"WILL you remember to water my plants?"

"Go away," Starkweather had buried her head in the case
file she was trying to create a report on.  "I won't let
your plants die."

"Have a good Labor Day weekend."

"Crush a beer can on your forehead for me."

Doggett stayed with an old friend from the Marines and not
only did they go to the races on Saturday, the Friday
before they got to sneak in about five hours of good
fishing at a small lake near Macon.  He did all the things
Starkweather, Scully and Reyes teased him about: drank
beer, watched races, played poker and told fishing lies.
Doggett had a great time.

In fact, when he got back late Sunday night, he was still
in a festive mood. He didn't want the party to end.  He
went to bed with a little grin on his face. The next
morning, after showering and shaving, after watering his
plants that Starkweather again neglected and listening to
his voice messages ("Agent Doggett, this is AD Skinner. I
have you and Starkweather signed up for a  'Budgeting your
Bureau Bucks Better' class in New York City. It's a four-
day seminar starting the ninth. The Bureau WITH IN REASON
will compensate your room and board. This seminar is not
optional. I'm still pissed about that $1200 balance you let
Starkweather and Scully run up when they were preparing for
that undercover mission in Sioux City. Have a happy Labor
Day.")  he began making phone calls....

"Hello??" Scully sounded absolutely frazzled, as she always
did when she had a long stretch of undiluted Mulder time.
He wondered how she put up with him will he was unemployed.
"No, Will, put that down, Mulder, would you watch him??"

Doggett heard Mulder in the background saying "I am
watching him Scully, I think this is funnier than hell."

"First of all, do not swear around the baby-"

"*Hell* is not swearing."

"- and second of all, watching him means STOPPING him when
he's being naughty... oh, I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Agent Scully, its John Doggett."

"Doggett," Scully sounded relieved to be talking to another
adult. "Hi. How are you, Agent Doggett?"

"Good, good," he thought about asking her how she was doing
and then swiftly decided against it. "Say, what are you and
Mul-dah doin' later on this afternoon?"

"Um... well..." Scully looked around fretfully at her
completely trashed out apartment, especially at the
mounting pile of case reports she needed to complete yet.
Plus the laundry needed to be done, the carpets needed to
be shampooed, plus she really wanted to sort through Will's
old baby clothes and give what he outgrew to the Goodwill...

She looked around at her dirty apartment again. At Will
giggling as he continued to play with the pair of her good
pantyhose somehow he managed to get his little chubby hands
on and at Mulder with a three day old beard growth, in the
grubby gray T-shirt and black sweatpants he had been living
in since he announced that he wanted to spend Labor Weekend
with her and the baby. Which had translated into playing
with Will, but passing him off to her when he got cranky,
eating junk food and watching sports. She was getting ready
to severely maim him.

"We don't have plans, why?" <please invite us over,
pleasepleaseplease> As much as she loved her family, Scully
felt the screaming need to be with other grown-ups.

"Havin' a barbecue. Was wondering if you and Mulder wanted
to come over. Bring the baby too," Doggett said grinning,
as if leaving William home was an option. William, or
"Boo", the nickname the Lone Gunmen adorned him after
Mulder and Scully threatened certain death if they
continued to call him "Spooky Jr.", definitely held a large
soft spot in Doggett's heart.

"Want us to bring anything?" Scully said, eager to get out
of her filthy apartment.

"Um..." Doggett examined the contents of his refrigerator. It
contained a box of Arm & Hammer and a container of milk
dated August 1. "Well, I got to run to the store anyway,
but if you wanna bring something, go ahead. Maybe a salad
or something," he said, remembering Scully's almost
compulsive healthy eating habits.

"Alright, what time?"

"Oh.... I'll fire up the grill 'round two or so. Come
whenever."

"This sounds like fun, we'll be there."

Doggett called Reyes who jumped at the invite. She was
moping over a recently failed relationship with some guy
named Follmer. She didn't give details and he didn't pry.
But it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that her
feelings had been hurt by the way it ended so a party was
perhaps not the cure-all for her heartache. But it couldn't
hurt and by the eagerness in her voice, he could tell that
Reyes was tired of being sad and was ready to re-enter the
world.  Doggett called Skinner, but he already had plans,
he was going to spend some quality time on the golf course
before the autumn chill. Doggett was about to call the Lone
Gunmen, but hastily, guiltily, changed his mind. He dialed
the Starkweathers' home number.

"'Lo?"

"Hey Ben, its John Doggett."

"Hi." Ben said politely, coolly.  "Which end of the earth
are you dragging my wife to this time?"

Doggett bristled. He wished Ben would grow up. Jealousy was
so unbecoming to him. "Actually, I'm having a cook-out and
I was wondering if you and Starkweather would like to come
over."

"Who's all coming over?"

"Just a few of us from work. Mulder and Scully. Monica.
That's about it."

A pause. "Yeah, that'd be alright," Ben said slowly. "I've
been buried at the law firm all weekend. And if you can pry
Jeri out of the office, that would be about a miracle.
Geez, I don't think she's seen the sun all weekend."

"Well... I'll give her a call then."

"What do we need to bring?"

"I dunno. It's kind of potluck. I'm going to the store to
get steaks and potatoes and veggie burgers."

"Veggie burgers?" There was true disgust in his voice.

"For Scully."

"Ah," Ben said.  "Okay then, what time?"

"People are going to start rolling in around two or so."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds great." Ben actually sounded
friendly.

"See you there then?"

"Yeah, you betcha."

Doggett hung up and dialed Starkweather's extension at the
J. Edgar Hoover Building. The phone rang ten times before
she picked up. "Agent Starkweather." There was pounding
techo- sounding music in the background. Loud techno-
sounding music. With screaming in the background. And a
heavy bass beat.

"You forgot to water my plants," he yelled into the phone.

"Are they dead?"

"No."

"Well, I said I wouldn't let them die, right?"

"No, but-" Doggett started to say but then he caught the
lyrics of the song:

"....Now move your big ass around
So I can work on that zipper baby
Tonight you're a star
And I'm a Big Dipper...."

"What the hell are you listening to?"

"Prince. Or rather, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince."

"PRINCE??" Doggett said, his jaw dropping. "I thought you
liked hard rock."

"I do, but Ben got me hooked when we started dating.
Prince's originally from Minneapolis, did you know that? He
started a kick-ass dance club downtown. " She started to
sing along to the chorus:

"Gett off
Twenty-three positions
In a one night stand
Gett off
Only call ya after you say I can
Gett off
Let a woman be a woman
And a man be a man
Gett off
If you want to baby,
Here I am..."

"Turn that crap off."

Starkweather turned the volume down instead. "So, I take it
you the Skin-Man's message about New York."

"Yeah," Doggett grumbled. "Although I think it should be
you and SCULLY to go to that seminar. It wasn't me who
racked up that credit card bill."

"Doggett, I'm hurt and appalled," she said in a tone of
voice that implied neither. "You sound as if you don't want
to take a trip to New York with me."

"I don't! Don't take that the wrong way but I've got shit
to do."

"Why do you think I'm down here in the dungeon on a
beautiful Labor Day?" Starkweather said as she continued to
type away at her case report and eat Oreo cookies. "Well,
anyways look on the bright side, it's a free trip to the
Big Apple. Don't you have old friends up there still when
you were with NYPD?"

"Yeah... I could give 'em a call," Doggett mused. "But
anyway, that's not why I called."

"Oh?"

"I'm having a barbecue."

"Will there be lots of greasy food guaranteed to plug up my
arteries, causing my heart to shrivel up and give out,
therefore sending me to an early grave?"

"Yes."

"I'm there. Need me to bring anything?"

"Nah, Ben said he was going to bring food so just bring
yourself."

"Ben?" Starkweather sat up in her chair, nibbling
thoughtfully on her cookie. "Did you call him at the
office."

"No. He was at home."

"At home? Huh..." There was a thoughtful pause. "Well, he
must have gotten done early. Anyway, what time do I bring
myself over?"

"Around two or so."

"Sweet. See you later." Starkweather hung up on him and
buried herself into her report again. Abruptly she stopped
typing and picked up the framed photograph of her wedding
that sat on her cluttered desk.  She folded her lips tight
and muttered, "You fucking liar" through her teeth. She
slammed the photograph down on her desk, took her reading
glasses off, threw them on the keyboard of her computer and
rubbed her temples. She put her glasses back on and got
back to her work.

**********************

Doggett's backyard
8:49 PM

Doggett's duplex had a little common area behind the
building that tenants could use for grilling out or
whatever. Most of Doggett's neighbors had left for the
weekend, so the green area was all theirs for the afternoon
and well into the night. Doggett wheeled out his propane
grill, dusty from non-use and played the master chef well
into the night. Everyone ate and drank like kings. Even
Scully was coaxed into ingesting some red meat into her
trim little body. After they had cleaned up the food, the
X-Files team continued to sit around, drink beer, like
normal people.

The party, of course, did have its little snags. Mulder and
Starkweather sniped at each other every chance they could.
Will threw food all over, staining Reyes's favorite white
T-shirt. Ben apparently still had the green eyed monster on
his shoulder for he glared at Doggett childishly every
thing he and Starkweather would start joking around.  Some
honeybees decided to crash the party and Scully got stung.
She panicked for about a minute until Mulder reassured her
that it was just a "normal" bee. Then she relaxed and let
Starkweather take the stinger out.

Still, it had been a great time and now the party was
finally winding down now as the city faded into darkness.
Scully and Doggett sat on the bench on the little porch
that was attached to Doggett's back door, sipping Jack
Lynch Lemonades. Mulder was sitting alone on the stairs,
drinking a Heinekens and looking at the stars. Reyes and
Ben, the lone nicotine addicts, stood away from the group
and each enjoyed a smoky treat. Starkweather was sitting in
the grass playing with Will. She had stopped at a toy store
and bought a bottle of soap bubbles and now was blowing
giant bubbles at Will, who shrieked in delight and reached
to touch the filmy floating orbs only to have them burst
and shower them with sweet smelling sticky soap.

"Doggett," Mulder said, turning to face him, "I have to
admit it, this was a great idea. I haven't done something
like this in years." He had finally changed out the ratty
clothes he had been existing in at Scully's for three days
into a clean pair of jeans and a well-loved gray T-shirt.
He turned to grin at Scully, who, for the first time in a
too long of time, looked completely relaxed and carefree,
sitting pretty in a simple sand-brown sundress that she
hadn't worn in ages. Doggett had a companionable arm over
her shoulders like a protective older brother.

"Thanks," Doggett said, getting up to get another drink.
"It seemed like a good idea. Dana, you want another one?"

"Careful John," Reyes said with a playful grin on her
serene face. The cloud of sadness finally lifted from her
face, she was on her way to recovery. She finished her
cigarette and walked back towards the group on the porch,
her legs endless in her faded jeans. "She gets a little
crazy when she gets liquored up."

"I do not," Scully protested as Reyes stole Doggett's seat
and gave her a hug.

"Right," Mulder said airily. "Everyone gets tattoos of a
snake when they get liquored up."

"It's a neat tattoo," Scully said with a pout while Doggett
chuckled and shook his head.

"You have a tattoo?" Ben said in wonder as he crushed out
his cigarette. "Saint Scully, my entire image of you is
being shattered of you as we speak." He sat down by Mulder.

Starkweather piped up, "I told you she was a rebel."

"I am not," Scully continued to protest. "I'll have one
more, then I've got to get home. SOME of us still have to
go to work tomorrow."

"Who gets tomorrow off too?" Reyes asked before she noticed
the Cheshire Cat's grin on Mulder's face. "Ahhh... the perks
of working for the City."

"Damn right." Mulder said as Doggett handed him another
beer.

"Ben, you want one?" Doggett asked him.

"Nah, I'm fine," Ben said quickly before asking Mulder.
"Man, I want your job. I get to spend all day tomorrow in
the law library researching."

"Don't be too envious," Mulder said. "I have to go out of
town in a few days for conferences and they're going to be
boring as hell."

"Oh yeah?" Starkweather said as she continued to blow
bubbles at Will, who continued to squeal in delight.
"What's that Boo? Huh? Are those pretties? Hm?" She blew
more bubbles for Will to try and catch before asking
Mulder. "Where are these conferences at?"

"I have to spend a few days in Boston, then I'm going to LA
for a few days."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and run into Tea Leoni in LA,"
Scully teased.

Mulder brightened. "Really? You think so?" Ever since he
met her on the set of that horrid movie based on the X-
Files, Mulder has had bad case of puppy love for the pretty
blonde actress.

"Forget it Mulder," Starkweather said as she tickled the
baby gently. "She's married to some actor named David
Duchovny."

Mulder's face fell as Scully asked "Who?"

Starkweather only smiled slyly. Ben lifted the old manual
camera he had been carrying around all-day and snapped a
few shots of Starkweather. She had her long hair tied back
with a white silk ribbon in a loose braid and was dressed
simply (as always) in a sky blue T-shirt and khakis shorts,
laying on her stomach in the grass, playing with Will. Ben
had been a shutterbug all day, probably taking what will be
the only candid shots of everyone for a long time. Doggett
heaved a sigh. He couldn't help but notice the look of
sadness that shadowed Ben's face as he watched his wife
play with another man and woman's child.  Doggett knew that
Starkweather's stance on waiting for a while before they
started a family was a sore spot between her and her
husband. Doggett had heard all of Starkweather's reasons
for waiting, but now, watching tonight, he felt as if he
was starting to understand Ben's stance a little better.
She was really good with kids. She would be a wonderful
mother. Doggett brushed the thought aside. It wasn't his
place to be judging her or anyone. Ben and Jeri would work
out their own issues about children without Doggett's
opinions.

"Speaking of trips," Reyes said. "When do you and John
leave for New York?"

"We fly out on the eighth," Doggett said wearily.

"You don't sound excited John."

Doggett shrugged his shoulders. "Why would I be excited,
Monica? I lived there for years. I really wasn't wild about
that place."

"You didn't LIKE New York?" Starkweather sat up, cradling
Will against her torso. Will cuddled into his aunt's arms.

"I'm too much a Southern boy to feel at home in a big
city."

"Well, I can't wait and I... yes, me, Miss Workaholic USA, is
actually taking a little vacation and staying up in New
York for a few extra days to be hopefully joined by my
wonderful husband for a weekend of wining and dining..."

"What?" Ben said, startled.

"Surprise, " Starkweather said with a smile as she got up
from the grass, carrying Will. She sat in Ben's lap. "I
talked to your secretary, she said your schedule was pretty
light for this week, so I bought a ticket for you to come
out on the fourteenth and then return flights for following
Sunday."

Ben's mouth dropped open and for a minute it looked like he
was about to protest, but then he smiled broadly. "Well,
I'll be damned, you sneaky FBI broad."

Like an excited little girl, Starkweather started making
plans. "And I want to totally geek out and be all touristy.
I wanna see the Statue of Liberty, I wanna see a Broadway
play ON Broadway. I wanna go to Bloomindales. I wanna see
the Brooklyn Bridge. I wanna go to the Metropolitan Museum.
I wanna have dinner at the Windows of the World. I wanna go
to Central Park. I wanna go to the Hard Rock Caf. I wanna
go to the Empire State Building. I wanna see the Yankees if
they're playing a home game. I wanna go to Chinatown. I
wanna-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Ben laughed. "Okay, okay. We will," he
promised. "I can't believe you got the time off. This will
be great." But then Ben yawned. "But I'll have to dream
about it until then. I do have to get up early tomorrow,
since I slacked off today and blew off going into the
office to work."

Reyes checked her watch. "Shucks, it's only a little after
nine."

"Well, even us evil lawyers must sleep once in a while.
Jeri, I'm going to load up the car," he said, dropping a
wink to her. Starkweather smirked as she watched Mulder
palm his car keys off before she got up to let Ben get up.

Scully stretched like a cat and also got up. "Doggett, do
you need any help?" She came down and retrieved Will from
Starkweather.

"Nah," Doggett said. "We've got it under control. How's
your arm?"

"Oh," Scully looked at the puffy pink lump that sprung up
after she had been stung. "It's not so bad. Sorry so being
such a baby when it happened, but... the last time I was
stung, I had an... unusual reaction to the venom." She sat
down by Mulder, who now put his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, we read about it in the X-File," Starkweather said
dryly. "Don't apologize Scully. If a bee in stung me
Mulder's hallway and the next thing I knew was I was waking
up naked in Antarctica, I wouldn't react with dignity and
grace the next time I got stung. Hell, I'm surprised you
didn't pee yourself." She picked up Ben's camera. "Okay
kids, smile."

"Is it bright enough?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah, plus Ben's got 800 speed film in here, so it'll be
okay." Starkweather lifted the camera to her eye. "Alright,
say 'They're gray, not green!'"

"Ha," Mulder said flatly, but smiled broadly at the camera.
After Starkweather took the snap, Mulder said, "Look
Scully, we're acting like normal suburbanites. Eating like
pigs on a holiday weekend, getting liquored up, taking
cheesy family pictures the kid will hate for taking fifteen
years from now."

Actually, the picture Starkweather took would be one of the
best of the trio taken in that time. Mulder looking
straight at the camera, his smile lighting up his entire
face while Scully leaned her head on Mulder's shoulder, her
smile small and shy as it always was when someone took her
picture, while Will lay contentedly in the crook of
Scully's arm, beginning to doze off.

"Yeah, Mulder," Starkweather said as she handed the camera
to Reyes. "All you got to do to be the perfect all-American
couple now is to slap a big ol' diamond ring on her hand
and have a big old fashioned church wedding with eight or
nine bridesmaids decked out in pink chiffon."

Both Mulder and Scully cringed.

"That's scarier than the Flukeman," Mulder said.

"Hey, y'all never saw that Batman thing," Doggett argued.

"Oh yeah?" Mulder said good-naturedly. "Ever been chased
through a shopping mall by a creature over a hundred years
old that comes out of hibernation every twenty-nine years
or so to consume human livers before returning to a state
of hibernation?"

"Ever cut a parasitic worm out of your partner's neck that
a fanatic religion group put in there because they thought
it was a god?"

"Ever been pelted by manure when a research lab exploded?"

"Ever been barfed back into life?"

"What?"

"I win."

"Ever give birth while a hoard of aliens looked at your
exposed groin area?" Scully injected.

Mulder pointed at Scully. "She wins."

"Well," Starkweather said to Reyes. "There went our
illusion of normalcy."

"It was nice while it lasted, wasn't it?"

"Yup."

Just then Ben returned. "Everything's ready," he said as he
handed the keys to Mulder and took the sleeping Will from
Scully.

"You put the car seat in the backseat of the car, right?"
Mulder said.

"Yep and Jeri is going to take the motorcycle back so you
won't have to worry about her driving William to the
house." Ben said with a massive grin as he took Will to his
car. "See you back at the house Jerilyn!"

"I'll be there in a bit, hon," she called back

"What's going on?" Scully asked bewildered.

"Ben and I are going to play house tonight. You and Mulder
are probably going to go play something else," Starkweather
said with a smirk.

Mulder pulled Scully up and took her aside, whispering
something in her ear. Scully, acting completely un-Scully-
like, put her hand to her cheek and smiled. But she
wouldn't realize that Mulder had come over and trashed her
apartment on purpose because not only had the landlord
finally come and repainted the walls but he had just
cleaned his apartment up, for once, so she could tolerate
spending the night at his place, for a change.

Doggett, grinning, sat down on the step. Starkweather sat
beside him, leaned over and whispered. "You can always tell
when Scully's gonna get laid. She turns bright pink."

"Oh hush," Doggett said. "Y'know, that's real nice for
y'all to take Will for the night."

"Ah, its no big thing, Will's a good kid."

Reyes, meanwhile had snapped another candid shot of Mulder
and Scully standing in the security lights of the apartment
lot. She turned and focused the camera on Doggett and
Starkweather. "Okay, smile guys."

Starkweather spontaneously threw her arms unabashedly
around her partner and smiled shamelessly at the camera.
Doggett started laughing when Reyes took the picture.

"Alright, I've got to go," Reyes said handing Starkweather
the camera. "This was fun, Doggett. We've got to do stuff
like this more often."

"I agree," Starkweather chimed in. "Let me leave first and
you guys help Mulder stall Scully," she said lowly. "Mulder
asked me to go over to his place and light candles for him
before he brings Scully home."

"Awwww..." Reyes said.

"He's being such a gentleman, he could almost pass for
Southern," Doggett drawled.

"We're going to give them both a HUGE ration of shit for
this afterwards, right?" Starkweather asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Reyes said.

"Hell yeah." Doggett agreed.

Starkweather grinned. "Sweet. Alright, I gotta go...."

***************************************
September 17, 2001
MSNBC Studios

Alanda nodded her head in an understanding manner as Agent
Doggett finished talking about the impromptu holiday party
he threw at his place. "After hearing that, would it be
safe to assume that all the agents involved with the X-
Files are very close?"

"Well..." Agent Doggett said carefully. "We sometimes don't
always agree with each other and sometimes tempers run hot,
but... we all strive to treat each other with respect. We are
all on the same team y'know.  We watch out for each other,
even when we don't all like each other at the time."

"Agent Starkweather," Alanda turned to the stony faced
female agent. Time to try and get the lady to talk. "You
almost cancelled on the seminar in New York City. What
happened?"

Agent Starkweather said lowly, almost too low for her
microphone to pick up. "My husband caught a cold a few days
prior to my leaving for New York. He was..." here she tilted
her head and began to look a little more human and a little
less Ice Queen. "really not feeling well. I was concerned
and felt maybe I should stay home to take care of him..."

***********************
September 7, 2001
Ben and Jeri's apartment
Washington DC
10:34 PM Eastern Standard Time

Jerilyn pulled the thermometer out of Ben's mouth. "Really,
honey," Ben said, his voice a croak. "I don't feel that
bad."

"Uh-huh," Jerilyn said, unconvinced. "You always feel like
a million bucks when you have a temp of a hundred." She
looked at Ben lying in bed, shivering as he lay underneath
two heavy blankets while wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of
Jerilyn's old hospital scrub pants.  "Baby, I think you've
got your annual case of bronchitis early this time."

Because he was a two-pack smoker a day man, Ben had chronic
bronchitis. He usually got sick in October when the weather
turned cold and stayed cold. And he would stay sick for no
less than a week.

"Damn," he said and coughed. "So why does my face hurt?"

"Your face hurts?" Jerilyn said, her face creased in
concern.  "You didn't say anything about that. Is it pain
or pressure?"

Ben thought for a moment. "Pressure," he finally said.

Jerilyn swept her long hair out of her face and tapped on
Ben's cheekbones gently but firmly with the tips of her two
fingers. "Does that hurt?"

Ben winced, "Yeah."

"Do you have an headache too, baby?"

Ben was coated in a cold sweat. "Yeah..." he said defeatedly.
"But I'll get over it. I'll be able to go to New York
still."

Jerilyn smoothed his hair back.  "Honey, no you won't.
You've got a triple whammy of bronchitis, a throat
infection and a sinus infection. You're out for the count
for at least a week."

"Aw dammit," Ben said, closing his eyes in real
disappointment. "I'm sorry, honey," his shoulders shook as
he coughed.

"Well," Jerilyn spooned around him, cuddling him as Caesar;
their obnoxious giant tabby cat jumped up and curled up in
the crook her legs, purring. "It's not like you went up to
a sickly wino and asked him to breathe on you so you would
get out of going on a trip with your wife. Shit happens,
you know? You can't help this." She kissed his sweaty brow.
"I'll call Scully tomorrow and have her recommend a DC doc
for us and make an appointment so he can prescribe some
good antibiotics. I mean, maybe I'm being pessimistic,
maybe you'll feel better by Thursday, but I don't think so.
Besides, if you're even just slightly sick, the cabin
pressure is going to kill you. Trust me. When Dad got
transferred to the Med when I was kid, I had a terrible
cold when Mom and I flew over to meet him there. I wanted
my head to explode, that's how bad the pressure affected
me."

Ben was only half-listening, shivering. "I can't get warm."

"Ben, you're burning up, baby," she said even though she
sat up, shooed Caesar away and drew another blanket over
him. She touched his forehead again. "Dammit," she
whispered. She got up and paced a bit. "Screw it, I'm
calling Skinner and telling him I can't go."

"Jeri, don't do that."

"Ben, I don't want to leave you alone if you're this sick."

"I'll be fine," he said. "Just drug me up with whatever you
got over the counter here so I can sleep. I'll go to the
doctor early tomorrow and just sleep the rest of the day.
We've done this before and we'll probably have to do this
again as long as I'm a dumbass that smokes. The only thing
that's gonna get this shit out of me is sleep and drugs.
Having you hovering around the house like a nervous Nellie
is not going to speed up my recovery to health, don't you
know.  'Sides," he opened his eyes like a sleepy little
boy. "I know how much you've wanted to go to New York. I
had a great time when I was there. One of my buddies from
Drake University grew up on Staten Island. I spent a month
up there visiting him with a bunch of my other buddies from
college. I know how much fun you're going to have.  It's a
cool town." A sly smile crossed his lips. "Almost as cool
as Minneapolis."

"Now I know you're delirious," she teased him. Then she
sighed. "But I really wanted it to be a special trip for
just the two of us. Ever since we moved to DC things have
been.... Less than normal for us?"

"That's an understatement."

"Well, yeah, I know... but.... " she sighed. "I just thought it
would be a nice surprise," she said, disappointment etched
in her voice.

"It WAS, Jeri, it was an awesome surprise, but don't bail
just because of me. Ever since Doggett's party, you have
been talking nothing but New York, New York. You've been so
excited for this trip. I mean, come on, you've been dying
to go to New York for years now. "

"I was excited because I thought you were going to join me
there."

"Oh, you can still geek out and be touristy without me."
Ben sat up. "How about this. Let's go over New Year's Eve
Weekend. Do you think you can get the time off for that?"

"I can try, but you know I'm at the mercy of the X-Files.
If a case pops up," She shrugged helplessly.

"Try," Ben said. "And if you get it off, we'll go spend New
Year's up in New York, okay? How does that sound?"

"Actually..." Jerilyn began to grin. "That does sounds kind
of cool."

"Okay, then lets plan for it." Ben flopped back to bed.
"Can I please have Nyquil now?"

"Can you survive for just a half-hour more?" Jerilyn asked.
"I'm going to run to the drug store and get some medicine
that will help with the sinus pain. But first I'm going to
make you a big cup of good old fashion Malone mystery tea."

Ben smiled wearily. "The Lynette cure-all." Malone was
Jerilyn's adoptive mother's maiden name.

"Damn straight," Jeri said. "Not exactly cutting edge
medicine, but Mom swore by it." Jeri disappeared into the
kitchen to boil water. As the water began to burble from
the heat, Jeri cut up an apple and a lemon. She put a
teaspoon of honey, a teaspoon of sugar and a tablespoon of
Irish whisky in the bottom of a giant coffee mug. She added
the slices of fruit and two blackberry teabags. Finally,
she added the boiling water and let the ingredients mingle
and get to know each other. She slowly carried the hot mug
back to the bedroom. "Sit up, Ben," she chided him. When he
was, she handed him the mug. "Careful," she cautioned him
as he sipped away at the steaming mix. As Ben drank down
the old family concoction, Jerilyn slipped away again. She
had returned when Ben drained the mug, carrying a pitcher
of water and holding two vitamin C tablets in her other
hand.  "Just make sure you keep drinking," she told him as
she poured cool water in the empty mug. "And take your
vitamin C. I'm going to go to the drug store now."

After Ben did as he was told, he fell into a fitful sleep
where he dreamt of devils in clouds and people falling and
Jerilyn screaming his name....


Doggett's duplex
10:55 PM

Doggett had just stepped out of the shower when the phone
rang. He grabbed a giant fluffy towel for decency's sake
and wrapped it around his trim waist before he made a
runner's sprint for the telephone.

"John Doggett."

"Hey, Papa John, it's me."

"Starkweather, you have impeccable timing, do you know
that?" Doggett said, with a grin as water from his soaked
hair trickled down his face.

"You mean I caught you in the shower again?"

"Yep."

"Stop, you shouldn't fill my married mind with such
indecent thoughts."

"What's up Doc?"

"Well, other than hunting for wabbits," Starkweather said,
playing off of Doggett's intentional pun, "I actually
wanted to bounce an idea off of you."

"And that is...?"

"How mad do you think Skinner will be if I bail on the New
York trip?"

"Pretty mad."

"Now, when you say 'pretty mad' are we talking 'pretty-mad-
that-Scully-stood-up-to-him mad' or 'pretty-mad-because-
Mulder-did-something-stupid' mad."

"Probably the 'pretty-mad-because-Mulder-did-something-
stupid' mad."

"Damn."

"Why, what's going on?"

"Oh, Ben's really sick and I'm just not cool on leaving him
alone. " Starkweather heaved a sigh as she looked both ways
before darting across the street. "I'm walking to Wal-
greens right now to buy Tavist-D for him."

"Is it serious? His illness?" Doggett walked back to his
bedroom to towel off and to put clean boxers on.

"Well, it's not going to make him buy the farm if that's
what you're asking, but he's pretty sick and ... oh, I don't
know Doggett. Part of me thinks I should stay home and take
care of him....."

"But...?" Doggett sighed.

Ben and Jeri's marriage was not an easy or happy one. In
their private conversations together, Mrs. Starkweather had
dropped the word 'divorce' a time or two but never really
pursued it. Doggett knew she was not happy being married to
Ben anymore. Doggett personally had nothing against Ben,
other than the fact that Ben was patently suspicious of his
relationship with Jerilyn, which annoyed him to no end. Now
if Ben had ever hit her or abused her in any way shape or
form, Doggett would have personally ground him up into cat
food to feed to Caesar. But other than not being supportive
of Jerilyn's career choice and running off his mouth when
he was mad at her, to be perfectly honest, in Doggett's
mind, there were no grounds for divorce. As much as he
treasured Jerilyn as his partner and friend, he was
realistic about her too. She was a selfish bitch a lot of
the time. But then again, so was Ben. It was the classic
American marriage of both parties wanting their own cake
and eating it too, but having no intentions of sharing with
their partner. But he also figured out that the two still
loved each other. It was not a healthy situation for either
one of them. But they loved each other, so there was still
hope.

"He lied to me about being at the office Monday."

"I thought he said he blew off work on Labor Day."  Doggett
said, sitting on his bed.

"He left for the firm before I left for J. Edgar and I left
at eight o'clock."

"Maybe he got sick of it and came home early."

"Maybe..."

Doggett blurted out the obvious "You think he's cheating on
you?"

"No," Starkweather said quickly. "No, because one, that's
not in Ben's nature, two, even if his nature changed to be
a cheater, he knows I'll kill him if he starts screwing
around and three, all the women at his law firm are ugly."

Doggett chuckled. "So what's the big deal?"

"I don't know," Starkweather said as she walked into the
Wal-greens, "It's just making me..."

"Suspicious?"

"Concerned," Starkweather started to pace the aisles,
looking for the right medicines.

"I think you're makin' mountains outta molehills."

"Do you?"

"I do." Doggett said as he pulled the covers of his bed
back and got in. "Unless you think he's fakin' this
sickness."

"Oh no," Starkweather said breathlessly. "No, I checked him
out. His lungs are clogged, his throat is inflamed and he
has a very high temperature."

"But it's not serious?"

"He won't die from it, no."

"And you don't think that Ben's cheating on you?"

"No!" Now Starkweather sounded offended that he would even
mention the possibility.

"Then I would say," Doggett said yawning as he turned off
the lamp. "To pack your bags 'cause I don't think
Skinner'll let you off the hook because your husband's got
the flu and you caught him in a white lie."

"He has bronchitis, and you're right," Starkweather said.
"But I don't think I'll stay the extra days in New York
like I planned. I think I'll just fly home with you and use
my time off with Ben at home."

"That's smart thinkin'.... I'm sorry Doc, I don't mean to be
rude, but I'm dead tired..."

"No, it's cool. I'm sorry I called so late."

"Forget about it. I just hope Ben feels better."

"Me too. Am I picking you up tomorrow night?"

"Nah, I'm going to stay late at the office and catch a cab
to the airport."

"Alright, see you tomorrow then."

"Good night," Doggett switched off the phone and fell
asleep.

**********************************
Meanwhile....
Scully's apartment


Her cell phone rang. Scully, clad in a soft blue short
sleeve pajamas top and a pair of Mulder's boxers, padded
out into the living room where she had left it and answered
"Hello?"

"Scully, it's me."

"Hi," Scully sat down in her favorite easy chair. "How's
Boston?"

"Oh, I'm just havin' a wicked time here in Baw --ston,
havin' beers in the yard," Mulder shamelessly desecrated
the infamous Bostonian accent.

"How are the conferences?"

"Boring as hell," Mulder reverted to his normal monotone.
"And guess what? They've extended it, so now I get to fly
out to LA on the eleventh instead of the ninth. Whee."

"What's the flight number?" Scully asked.
"American Airlines Flight 11, leaving at 7:59 in the
morning. At least it's not a red-eye flight so I can't
complain too much."

"Oh Mulder," Scully said. "So does that mean you'll be
staying in LA longer too?"

A pause. "Well, that's what I called to talk to you about,"
he said in that hesitant tone he always used when he had to
tell her something that she wasn't going to like very much.

"What?" Scully sat up immediately, recognizing that tone.

"I'm going to stay an extra week in Los Angeles."

"Why?" The question came out, very frosty.

"Last week, someone, someone who used to work very deeply
in the Syndicate but got out and now is living in hiding
approached the Lone Gunmen via email. He said he had
information."

"What KIND of information?"

"Information about something very personal to us."

"Mulder," Scully said, now getting out of her chair. "You
called me on my cell phone which you know is a secure line
and I'm assuming you're calling from your cell too, so cut
this beating around the bush and tell me. What
information?"

"About William."

Scully folded her lips tightly together. "No."

"Scully, listen-"

"No, Mulder, YOU listen. We've discussed this before. I
refuse to have my child turned into an X-File."

"Scully, he may have the answers for us," Mulder pleaded.
"How William came to be. How a barren woman could produce a
child against all scientific odds?"

"For once in my life, I don't give a damn about science.
Not in this case. William came to be because of faith. YOU,
of all people, told me not to give up on a miracle," Scully
seethed. "And I didn't. I do not want that miracle to be
dissected."

"Even if that means sacrificing his safety? Just because
they didn't take him at birth doesn't mean they aren't
waiting until a later date to take him."

"They aren't going to take him!" Scully cried out.
"Krycek's theory of Will being 'more human than human' has
already been disproved, Will has had all the ailments
normal to an infant. Teething, earaches, colic, hell,
Mulder, he had the chicken pox just a few weeks ago!"

"We both know that Krycek's a liar." Mulder pointed out,
"And I think you and I both deserve to know the truth."

"I don't want to know the truth. Not this time," Scully
snapped. "I am just grateful that I was able to have a son.
A healthy, happy son. That I love. That's all the truth I
need to know. And if that's all I need to know, what more
do YOU need to know."

Painfully, Mulder said again, "I need to know how he came
to be."

"What does it matter?" Scully fumed.  Then softly,
dangerously, she asked again, "What does it matter,
Mulder?"

In his hotel room, Mulder now was pacing furiously, still
fully dressed in the three-piece suit that he wore when he
delivered his speech about the importance of city-to-city
cooperation when it came to the matters of welfare and
poverty in each city's own slums. "It matters Scully
because even though Krycek was a liar, there was always one
grain of truth in his fields of deception. I believe that
William is special, I believe that your fertility was
returned to you not by an Act of God, but by the whims of
selfish men and militant beings not of this world. I
believe there's a greater plan out there that we, in nine
years, haven't even began to scratch and I believe that
William is central to it and if I meet this person in LA-"

"How do you know this person who contacted the Lone Gunmen
isn't a liar? Or a nutcase? Or- or maybe he, she, whatever
WAS part of the Syndicate but never left? What if it's just
another elaborate lie to trap you, to kill you? Even though
you aren't officially a federal agent in the X-Files
anymore, Mulder, YOU'RE still a threat to them, YOU still
know too much."

"Scully, pretending that William is just a normal little
boy is not going to help him in the future. Look at
Starkweather and her childhood. The Baileys tried to deny
what she is and-"

"What is she Mulder?" Scully challenged him. "And do you
have proof to back it up?"

"The fact that she was tortured when she was just an
infant, torture that is consistent to alien
experimentation. The fact that she displayed abnormal
psychological behavior during the first six years of her
life. The fact that she and her adoptive mother were
abducted and were missing for over six months. The fact
that when she was returned, her intelligence went off the
charts."

"But does that MATTER, Mulder? Does any of that really
matter to you?"

"There are still people and other entities trying to kill
her," Mulder pointed out "That matters deeply to me."

"Starkweather is a decorated retiree from the United States
Air Force. She is a highly trained, exceptionally competent
federal agent. She is a bright young woman who can take
care of herself. She is also your half-sister and my
friend, who I trust completely and I ask nothing more of
her, so why should you?"

"Because the Admiral asked us too."

"The Admiral was wrong." Scully said bluntly. "The Admiral
was wrong to lie to her for all these years about her
origins and then to use deceit to protect her."

"Isn't that what we're doing now? Lying to William? About
his origins?"

"William can't even talk yet so how are we lying to him?"

"Someday, Scully, he will be able to talk and ask questions
and how can I stand there and not have answers for him?
What am I supposed to tell him, oh well, your mother
couldn't get pregnant and then *poof * there you were?
Should I throw the Angel Gabriel in there while I'm at it?"

Scully shot back, "THAT'S why you're doing this! It has
nothing to do with William's safety or the alien invasion
or the X-Files or anything like that! This has to do with
the fact that you're worried that you're not really
William's father. That it may be someone or something
else's son."

"I would still be there for William to be his father even
if was ET who had come down and gotten jiggy with you,"
Mulder's tone was nasty. The entire discussion had turned
nasty. "But, since you brought it up, yes, I still have
questions. I still have concerns. And it has nothing to do
with the inglorious male ego. "

"Bullshit," Scully snapped. "If you are so determined to be
here to be William's father, then you need to grow up and
act like it. Being William's father doesn't mean running
off on a wild goose chase. It doesn't mean showing up at
the apartment when you feel like it, playing with William
when you feel like it then handing him off to me when he
gets cranky. It's means that you are HERE for him. As a
role model. As an authority figure. As someone who will
love him unconditionally no matter what he does or who he
is or who his biological father may be."

"You make me sound like I'm a dead-beat dad," Mulder said
resentfully.

"If you keep running after shadows instead of spending time
with Will, then you are," Scully countered.

"I'm running after shadows for William."

"No, you're running after shadows for yourself, Mulder."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Scully's voice trembled with mother-bear
rage, "I'm saying that if you go to Los Angeles to meet
this man, then don't bother coming back here," and she
swiftly hung up the phone and turned it off.

Mulder stared at his cell phone incredulously. "God damn
it," he swore. He started to re-dial, but changed his mind.
He took his tie off with a furious jerk, shrugged off his
jacket and slung it across the room along with the vest. He
paced in his hotel room for a bit, biting his lip. Then he
picked up his wallet and went down to the hotel's well-
stocked bar.


September 9, 2001
Holiday Inn Conference Room 1-B
Newark, New Jersey
1:35 PM Eastern Standard Time

The lecturer was a little pedantic middle-aged man with a
bad comb-over. His thick glasses kept slipping off his face
as he wrote on the chalkboard. He had a worse monotone than
Mulder and as he droned on and on and on, Doggett felt like
he was back in seventh grade algebra.  He looked around the
room. The other field agents assigned to the 'Budgeting
your Bureau Bucks Better' all had the same glazed eyed,
slack-jawed expressions of extreme boredom on their faces.
One agent was actually falling asleep, but jerking himself
back awake, then slowly start nodding off again. The
seminar started at ten-thirty and lasted until four o'clock
in the afternoon with a half-hour break for lunch at
twelve-thirty.

Doggett didn't know if he could stand three more days of
this drudgery. He thought of the mounting paperwork on his
desk and groaned to himself. He looked over at
Starkweather. She was ostentatiously ignoring the lecturer,
staring out the window, chin cupped in her hand, lower lip
stuck out in a pout. The magnificent skyline created by
Lower Manhattan was clearly visible from the window. It was
a gloriously cool yet comfortable autumn day in New York.
Doggett, coming from a climate that rarely changed season
to season had forgotten how he did enjoy New York autumns,
how blue the skies were, how the vibrant the crimson and
gold the leaves turned into at Central Park, how the even
the smog would smell good.

Doggett knew that Starkweather truly hated Skinner at the
moment, who told them both that the seminars were in New
York City. Actually, the seminar was taking place in a
crappy airport hotel in Newark, New Jersey but it was
temptingly close enough to New York to drive Starkweather
insane.  She could see clearly the Twin Towers of the World
Trade Center. She sighed mournfully.

"Agent Starkweather," the lecturer, one Leslie Miscotti,
put his hands on his hips like an old schoolmaster and
glowered at the daydreamer, "are you paying attention?"

"Yes sir," Starkweather droned, not even giving him the
common courtesy of turning her head to look at him, so
enchanted by the exciting city across the river.

"Then what did I just say?"

Doggett expected him to start tapping his foot.

"'That we, as servants of the public good and defenders of
crime on a national scale, have an awesome responsibility
to manage the money allotted to us for personal
expenditures during missions of extreme secrecy for those
monies come out of the pockets of Mr. And Mrs. Taxpayer who
do not want their funds to be wasted any more then we would
want ours to be.'" Starkweather quoted him verbatim as she
continued to stare out the window.

Befuddled, Miscotti fumbled through his notes. "Um... yes....
Yes... very good Agent Starkweather, very good. As I was
saying..."

Under her breath to Doggett, Starkweather mumbled "Bueller...
Bueller..."

Doggett covered his grin with his hand. Lowly he mumbled,
"Bet your teachers hated you in high school."

Starkweather whispered back "Elementary, middle school,
high school, college, med school, tech school, Quantico...
they ALL hated me."

"That's a little harsh."

Starkweather shrugged. "Teachers get pissed when they have
a student smarter than they are."

" Of course your attitude had nothing to do with it."

"My attitude was perfect. I was an angel. Pure as the
driven snow."

"Bullshit."

"Agent Doggett, is there something you want to share with
the class?" Miscotti demanded.

Starkweather snickered. Doggett somehow produced a beatific
smile and said, "Oh no sir, I was just asking my partner
here to catch me up a little since she has SUCH an amazing
memory." He winced after Starkweather kicked him in the
shin.

"Oh, well... Agent Doggett, if you are having trouble keeping
up, please let me know, I CAN go slower."

There was an audible groan throughout the class.
Starkweather finally turned her head to glare at her
partner. "Thanks a lot," she whispered as the lecturer
began droning on again.


Later on that day,
The hotel lobby
4:54 PM

"He let us go forty-five minutes late," Starkweather fumed,
storming out of the Conference room.

"You keep blamin' me as if I had somethin' to do with the
fact that his tongue moves slower than roadkill."

"Loverly imagery." Starkweather plunked down in a chair and
pulled out her cell phone.

"What are you going to do for the rest of the night?"
Doggett asked.

"First I'm going to call Ben and see how he's feeling," she
said as she started dialing. "Then I don't know. You?"

Doggett pulled two tickets out of his jacket pocket.
Starkweather stared at them. "It ain't the Yankees but..."

"A Mets game!" Starkweather squealed in delight. "Oh you
are a prince!"

"I know," Doggett said humbly. "So hey, make your call and
hurry up and change, unless you WANNA wear that to a ball
game," he pointed to her black skirt and maroon sweater-
set.

"Oh, hell no," Starkweather said as she put the phone to
her ear and started to walk away from him, "Meet you down
here in fifteen minutes, hello? Oh, hi Ben... oh... honey... you
sound awful...."

Ben was lying on the couch with a cold washcloth on his
head and Caesar on his stomach. He had almost completely
lost his voice and could barely whisper. "Believe it or
not, Jeri, I feel a lot better today. How's New York?"

"I don't know, I haven't been there yet," Starkweather
fumed. "Skinner played a delightful little joke on us. The
seminar is actually in Newark."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, I can SEE New York from my hotel room window."

"Jeez," Ben coughed as he channel surfed "I don't feel so
guilty about not being able to come up. Are you going to go
have ANY fun this week?"

"Well, I just found out that Doggett scored tickets to a
Mets game, so that will be fun, but other than that...
probably not."

Ben frowned. Jerilyn and Doggett together at a baseball
game. Sounded cozy to him. But she sounded really down, so
Ben made the monumental effort to push his jealous aside to
say, "Please don't nerd out and stay in 'cause I can't be
there. I'll feel bad."

Starkweather smiled as she let herself into her room.
"Well... maybe I'll go see the Statue of Liberty tomorrow..."

"Take pictures."

"I will. I gotta get out of this skirt.  Feel better, baby,
okay?"

"Working on it. Catch a foul ball for me."

"I'll try. Love you."

"Love you too," Ben said and hung up. He coughed and
shivered and muttered. "Damn."


Shea Stadium
Flushing, Queens
11:45 PM

Doggett and Starkweather were making their way down the
stairs of the stadium. Like an excited schoolgirl,
Starkweather kept chattering about the game had just ended.
"... and oh my God, did you see that last pitch? Un-by-God-
believably horrible."

"What was the matter with his pitch?" Doggett asked.

"Oh, come on, Doggett, he pitched like a girl."

Just then, Doggett accidentally bumped into a smaller man
trying to also maneuver down the stairs. The man's popcorn
bucket flew to the ground. "Hey, watch it budd-" the man
growled in a thick New Yorker's tough man accent, but then
his brown eyes widened in recognition. "Well, I'll be god
damned." He reached over and shook Doggett's hand
vigorously. "I'll be god damned. Wha'cha thinkin' you
doin', sneakin' inta town without calling me, you red
necked bastard?"

"Hey, I was gonna give you a call tomorrow night. I didn't
think I'd run into you at the game."

Starkweather noted with amusement that the New York side of
his hybrid accent was overpowering the Southern drawl.

"Ahhh.. forget about it, hello, who do we have here?" The
man with the big friendly brown eyes and thick black shock
of hair finally noticed Starkweather standing beside
Doggett. "Doggett, did you finally get yourself a new
woman?"

"Kind of," Doggett finally made proper introductions.
"Mickey, this is my partner, Agent Jerilyn Starkweather.
Starkweather, this is my old partner from the NYPD, Jason
Mick."

"Howya doin'," Jason Mick took Starkweather's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Starkweather said.

"Hey, Doggett, she's kinda cute."

"Hey, Mick," Starkweather waved her left hand about. "She's
kinda married."

"And she's a smart ass, I like her already."

Doggett grinned. "Thanks, I think I'll keep her."

"So hey Doggett, when are you gonna offer to buy me a
beer?"

"Aw, shit, here we go," Doggett groaned in good humor. "I
think its YOU who owes me a beer."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Anyways, how've you been, man?" Mick
punched Doggett affectionately on his shoulder.

"Doin' good, doin' good."

"What brings you to New York."

"Seminars."

"Ahhh," Mick crinkled his face, making him look like a
little monkey. "You suits and your seminars. Hey, tell you
what. A bunch of us from the old prescint is meeting out
for beers after the game. You should come. Bring the dame
along too," he winked at Starkweather too quickly when he
said the politically incorrect noun for "woman" so
Starkweather knew off the bat he was only teasing her.
"Come on man, the guys would love to see ya."

Doggett turned to Starkweather. "Do you mind?"

Even if she did, there was no way Starkweather would
deprive her friend of his fun. "Mind? Why would I mind?
Let's go."

"Alright, we're meetin' at Sully's. You remember where
Sully's is?"

"How could I forget?" Doggett said, patting his friend on
the back. "I'll see you there."

"I BETTER see you there." Mick threatened as he hurried to
catch up to his friends while yelling "Hey, guys, guess
who's here?"

Starkweather turned to Doggett with a grin. "Did he say
meet at Scully's?"

"No, you misheard. It's Sully's. It's an Irish pub and...
well, you'll see for self. You did say you wanted to... what
was the phrase... 'geek out and be all touristy?'"

"Yeah??"

Doggett grinned, "Come on then, Mrs. Starkweather, New York
don't get much better than an Irish bar after the Mets
lose."


Sully's Irish Pub
Flushings, Queens
1:45 AM

There was a lot of back patting and hand shaking going on
when Doggett entered the bar. As Starkweather watched
Doggett go from old friend to old friend, Starkweather
realized that this man had been universally adored by all
of his former co-workers. <<Why did he leave all of this?>>
she wondered as the beer began to flow as freely as the
good cheer was. <<Man, if I had friends like this back at
my old field office, I would have never left Minneapolis
for DC>> she reflected with a twinge of jealousy.
Starkweather and her first partner hated each other and her
relationship with her ex-boss was not much better.

"Doggett, hey Doggett," Mickey was dragging a good looking
youth to him. "Guess whose here?"

Doggett did a double take. "Danny???" he exclaimed as he
reached out to shake his hand. "Little Danny Mick?"

"Hey, I haven't been 'little' in years!" The handsome man
with the velvet brown eyes protested with a smile.

"Who's this?" Starkweather asked.

'This is my baby brother, Daniel Mick," Mickey said
proudly. "Just got done with firefighter trainin'. He's
with Engine 47 now. The yutz." He thudded his brother
proudly.  Danny, not as boisterous as his older brother,
grinned shyly.

"I used to coach him in Little League," Doggett groaned.
"Are you old enough to even BE in here??"

"I turned twenty-one two months ago," Danny grinned
broadly.

"Oh my God," Doggett groaned as he allowed himself to be
herded to a giant round table. "I feel old."

"You ARE old," Starkweather reminded him.

"YOU shut up," Doggett fired back cheerfully.

Mickey laughed, "I like you so much," he said to
Starkweather as he bought a round of beers for everybody.
"How did you get stuck with this schmuck?"

"I pissed off my superior in Minneapolis and got
transferred to DC."

"Everybody's a comedian," Doggett said.

"Well, you provide so much material."

"Yeah, well, don't quit your day job, you little brat."

"Speaking of little brats," Mickey said to Doggett, "the
girls will kill me if they knew that Uncle John was in town
and didn't come and see them."

"How are the girls?" Doggett said with a smile. "I don't
know if I'd even recognize them if I saw them now."

"Yeah, well, they'd recognize your ugly mug anywhere. Cindy
still talks about the year you dressed up for Santa Claus
for them."

"Awwwww...." Starkweather cooed.

Mickey whipped out his wallet to show Doggett and
Starkweather the school photos of his kids. All three girls
had his dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, although the
youngest child had a head full of ringlets while the older
two did not.  "Cindy just had a birthday, she's fifteen now
and oh my God, determined to send me and her mother to an
early grave. She's doin' okay in school, more concerned
about cheerleading and dating than studyin' but whatever,
she's not getting in any trouble. Claudia's a senior in
high school this year and her mother's already getting
empty nest syndrome. Claud's the book smart one and she's
talking Yale or Harvard or Stanford and I just look at her
and say 'On a cop's paycheck? Are you kidding me???' But
she'll do good, she'll get scholarships. And Laurie, our
baby, just turned twelve last month. Still a daydreamer.
Likes to do artsy fartsy stuff, but that's okay."

"I haven't seen Laurie since she was a toddler," Doggett
said with wonder tempered with a little sadness in his
voice.

Mickey put the pictures away. "Didn't mean to open up old
wounds, man."

"Naw, it's alright. Order me another beer, I gotta go to
the men's room," Doggett said as he slipped away.

Mickey quaffed the rest of his beer, "Aw shit," he
muttered.

"What?" Starkweather asked.

"You too seem pretty tight, so I'm taking a chance and
assuming that you know about his boy, right?"

Starkweather nodded. "He doesn't like to talk about him
much, but yeah, I know. It's..." she shook her head,
"horrible what happened to that child. I can not imagine
cruelty like that. It's beyond words."

"Yeah, well, Doggett not only don't like talking about it,
he don't like bein' reminded of it either. His kid and my
youngest, Laurie, used to play together," Mickey said
sadly. "It's a damn shame, a damn shame. He's a good guy,
Doggett. Didn't deserve to have what happened to him,
happen."

"I know," was all Starkweather could say before Doggett
returned.

"I hate to break up the party," Doggett said, checking his
watch. "But it's getting late and we still have to get to
Jersey."

"Hey, whaddya doin' tomorrow night?" Mickey asked. Before
Starkweather and Doggett could answer, Mickey told them
"Come over to our house for dinner."

"You sure Minni won't mind us droppin' in such short
notice?" Doggett asked.

Starkweather snorted. "Minni???" she asked. "Like, Mickey
and Minni?"

Half-drunk and affable, Mickey thumped her on the shoulder
like a buddy. "Hardy-har-har."

Doggett smiled at her "Yeah, you just keep talkin'..... Ben
and Jeri."

"Oh shut up."

"You know Minn would be thrilled to see you again." Mickey
stood up, stretched and yawned. "And the girls."

"You up for it, Starkweather?" Doggett asked his partner.

<<So much for the Statue of Liberty>> Starkweather thought
but said agreeably "Hey, as long as we aren't imposing..."
she yawned halfway through her sentence. "Sorry."

"Forget about it," Mickey waved his hand. He took a bar
napkin and scrawled an address and phone number. "We've
moved up in the world," he said proudly. "I'm just down
here tonight to hang out with Danny," he thumped his
brother on the back "and the guys."

"Manhattan?" Doggett said. "So those skims off of busted
drug deals finally paid off," he joked with him.

"Hey, I gave you fair deal, ninety-ten split. No, actually,
its Minni's money we're living off of.  She's got a great
job now, corporate lawyer. I keep telling her I can quit
the force and be a house husband. I am perfectly secure in
my masculinity and have no problem doing laundry and
watching soap operas. She said no."

"Imagine that." Doggett shook his head.

"So we'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll be there. It's be great to see Minn and the
girls again."

"Looks like the party's breaking up. Better get home."
Mickey checked his watch. "Minn's gonna raise hell." He
shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Oh well."

After a long and projected goodbye from Mickey and the rest
of the guys Doggett used to work with, Starkweather found
herself alone with Doggett. Doggett quickly lost the
joviality he carried all night and relapsed into his
seriousness. Starkweather rubbed her arms as they waited
for a cab to come.

"Cold?" Doggett asked her.

"A little, but I'll live." Starkweather said, tucking her
hands into her jean pockets. "They were nice," she said
lamely.

"Yeah," Doggett said, looking off into the distance.

"You had no intentions of calling any of them, did you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, because Mickey seems like a great guy and he was
thrilled to see you. And he's invited both of us, and he
barely knows me, to his house tomorrow..." Starkweather
trailed off, aware of Doggett's icy blue eyes boring into
her, flashing a message that said 'Don't go there.' "It's
just a mystery, that's all," she finished.

Doggett was quiet for a long time, up until the time a cab
finally cruised past and Doggett hailed it like a New York
pro. He was quiet until the cab took them back to the
Stadium where their rental car was waiting. He was quiet in
the parking lot. He was quiet until he pulled out of the
lot and they were heading back to New Jersey. "Those guys
bring back a lot of memories." Doggett finally said. "Some
good. Some not so good. I wanted to call them. But I didn't
know if I was going to or not."

"But you hung out with your old Marine buddies Labor Day
weekend. What's the difference with your cop buddies?"

"It just is," he said firmly.

It was on the tip of Starkweather's tip to ask him if his
reluctance to look up old New York acquaintances had
anything to do with his ex-wife or his poor little son. But
the silence she kept. She had no desire to break the
cardinal rule of "Thou Shalt Not Inquire into My Past" with
her friend. <<When he's ready to tell me, he will. If he
doesn't tell me, then it's none of my business.>>  She
yawned and nestled her head against the window and closed
her eyes.

Doggett looked over to her, smiled a little, then turned
his attention to the wilderness of roads that the urban
jungle created.
***********************************************************
********************************

September 10, 2001
10:35 AM
Dr. Patrick Roberts' office
Washington DC

"There we go," Dr. Roberts cooed as he finished giving
little William his last booster shot. William's face
puckered up and big tears rolled down his puppy-fat cheeks.
Scully wanted to cry right along with him.

As Dr. Roberts handed William to Scully, he said, "I'm
never sure, during these kinds of check-ups, whose it's
worse for. The baby or the mom."

"Oh," Scully was still teary eyed. "We'll be fine."

"Well, the good news is that William is in perfect health,"
Dr. Roberts said, tickling underneath William's chin. The
baby was at first unsure about this, after all, this big
person just poked him with a needle which didn't feel good
at all. But eventually he was squealing in delight, batting
the doctor's big finger with his little hands. "Although I
did see some evidence of an ongoing rash. You may want to
switch laundry detergent."

"Oh... that might be left over spots from chicken pox,"
Scully said.

"Chicken pox?"

"He and his... dad," it took Scully a little bit to say "Dad"
since "Dad" may be out of the picture if, in Scully's
opinion, didn't get his head out of his butt, "had the
chicken pox a few weeks ago."

"Ms. Scully," Dr. Roberts said, putting his big shiny pen
on the counter.  "I've been a pediatrician for over twenty
years now. I can tell you with perfect confidence that your
son did not have the chicken pox. This is irritation from a
harsh laundry detergent."

"But..." Scully faltered, remembering Alex Krycek's words:
**More human than human.** No human weakness, no human
frailty. "But... he had spots all over him... on his head
even..." A sickness invaded her stomach as she nervously
clutched William to her.

Dr. Roberts sighed. "Do you use the same detergent for
everything of William's? His hats? His socks?"

"Well, yes... but he was running a fever too."

"Some babies do run temps when teething and this little
guy," he tickled William under his chin again. William
giggled and his eyes darted around, checking out all the
neat objects in this strange room. He spied the shiny
silver fountain pen and reached for it. Neither Scully or
the doctor paid him any mind.

"I'm a doctor too," Scully protested. "And I can assure
you, William had the chicken pox."

"Ms. Scully," Dr. Roberts said. "I deal with kids day in
and day out. I'm sorry, but you still have the chicken pox
to look forward too. William did not have them."

The pen went skittering to the floor.  Dr. Roberts looked
down. "Huh..." he muttered, confused. As he bent down to
retrieve his pen, he said, "Ms. Scully, all it is, is a
simple irritation of the skin." He put the pen back on the
counter and pulled himself up. "Babies has extremely
sensitive skin. I would recommend switching-" he then
finally saw that Scully's face was pale as snow. "Ms.
Scully? Are you alright?" He touched her hand in concern.
It was clammy. Her eyes were wide and staring down at
William, who was reaching for the pen again. "Ms. Scully,
are you sure you're not ill? You're white as a ghost." Sure
enough, as the doctor, with his back turned to the pen,
while he continued to ask if Scully was all right, the pen
stirred, then rolled off the counter.

The doctor turned around. "Well... hm... this counter must be
crooked."

"Um... thank you Dr. Roberts," Scully said. "I'll... I'll do as
you say... um... we have to go." She bolted from the doctor's
office.

Dr. Roberts scratched her head. What got into her? He
shrugged. New mothers.

Scully fairly fled from the clinic, clutching William. The
boy, sensing something was not right, began to snuffle and
whine.

With shaking hands, she proceeded to buckle him into his
car seat. William, now scared, began to cry full out. "It's
okay, it's okay...." Scully whimpered as she tried again and
again to snap the clasp of the car seat. " She gave up and
took him out of the car seat. William was sobbing now and
Scully clung to him with tears streaming down her own face,
leaning against the car, not caring who saw her. "It's
going to be okay, sweet William," she promised him as she
kissed him. "Everything's going to be alright."


September 10, 2001
6:14 PM Eastern Standard Time
Jason and Minerva Mick's apartment
Manhattan, New York

"Wow," Starkweather said as Minerva took her coat as well
as Doggett's. "What a great place."

"Thank you," Minn looked to be a down-to-earth housewife.
Who would have guessed, with her plump, pink cheeks and
Phantom of the Opera sweatshirt and well-worn jeans that
she was a devilishly clever corporate lawyer.  "Someday, we
hope to get a house, but it's just so convenient to live in
the city. Plus, the girls aren't complaining." With a
smile, she called out, "Girls, the company's here!"

Three beautiful girls, slender and dark-haired as ravens,
flew  into  the living room. "Omigod!!" The eldest,
Claudia, squealed. "Ma, you didn't tell us it'd be Uncle
John!" She ran for him and hugged him around the neck.

"Claud, I don't like that kind of talk. No cussing," her
mother admonished her, but the lecture was tempered with a
smile.

The middle girl, Cynthia, also attacked Doggett. "Hey Uncle
John, where's your red suit and sleigh?" she teased.

"Left them up at the North Pole," Doggett freed himself
from the girls. "Wow... I hardly recognize you guys. Y'all
went and grew up on me."

"'Y'all," Cindy snickered. "Pop's right, he's still a
redneck."

"Cindy," her mother said. "Be nice."

"I'm ALWAYS nice, Mother."

The youngest daughter, Laurel, lingered in the doorway,
hesitating. Doggett approached her and crouched down. "Hi,"
he said kindly. "Do you remember me at all?" God, she was
so tall and pretty now. She had been practically a baby
when he saw her last.

She looked up at him shyly with her giant doe-eyes. "You're
Luke's daddy, weren't you?" she finally whispered.

Doggett smiled at her. "Yeah... I am." He swallowed down the
giant lump in his throat. "C'mere, lemme introduce you to a
friend of mine." He took Laurie's hand and walked her over
to Starkweather, who was already being interrogated by
Claudia and Cindy.

"You're a **doctor** too!!! Wow.  How did you decide you
wanted to be a doctor? I graduate this May and I can hardly
figure out what school I wanna go to, let alone what I
wanna BE yet."

"Well..." Starkweather said. "It did take me awhile to figure
it out. I mean, I don't practice medicine, I'm a FBI agent
like Doggett.... I mean... John."

"You don't call 'em by his first name?" Claudia was aghast
at this breach of protocol.

Cindy saw Doggett and Laurie approaching them, hand in
hand. "Hey runt," she teased her.

"I'm NOT a runt," Laurie fired back.

"Can we call you by your last name?" Cindy asked
Starkweather.

"Only if you prefix it with a 'Mrs.'" Minn frowned at
Cindy's lack of grace. "I raised you better than that,
young lady." She disappeared into the kitchen.

"Sorry," Cindy muttered, not sounding very sincere.

"So, anyway, MRS. Starkweather," Claudia frowned at Cindy
before going on. "How did you FINALLY decide on being an
FBI agent?"

Jason Mick burst through the door. "Don't scare off the
company," he told the girls. "Go help your mother." As the
three girls reluctantly joined their mother, Mickey shook
Doggett's hand. "Glad you could come. Find the place
alright?"

"No problem," Doggett said. "Wow, when you said you and
Minn moved up in the world... you weren't kidding. This is a
great place."

Mickey beamed. "Ain't it something? Let's go out on the
balcony. Hon? Need anything?" he called to Minn in the
kitchen.

"I'm fine. Dinner'll be ready in about fifteen minut- no,
Cindy, the spoon goes on the RIGHT hand side, next to the
knife. I swear, child....."

Mickey hooked his arm through Starkweather's. "Mrs.
Starkweather, if I could escort you to the balcony.

The balcony itself was not that big, four people could
maybe fit on it comfortably, but the view was spectacular.
"Oh.... Wow....." Starkweather looked at the skyline. "This is
incredible... I wish I would have brought my camera."

"So..." Mickey said with a grin to Starkweather. "You likin'
New York so far?"

Starkweather grinned. "When I'm actually IN New York, I
love it. I haven't had much of an opportunity to do the
tourist thing yet."

"You know what?" Mickey was hit by a brainstorm. "You know
what would be fun? Ever hear of the Windows of the World?"
Starkweather smiled broadly and nodded her head  "We should
go tomorrow night. You can see the whole city from there.
It's awesome. Took Minn there for her birthday last month."

Starkweather, like a little girl, turned to Doggett. "Can
we go????"

Doggett, still a little shaken by Laurie's insight. "Huh?
Oh... sure... that would be great."

Minn came out. "Dinner's ready. Sorry there won't be any
wine with the dinner, but we don't drink in front of the
girls. Once they're in bed for the night, we can break out
the cocktails."

"Hey, honey, wanna go to the Windows of the World for
dinner tomorrow?" Mickey asked her.

"Honey, we can't. I've got a PTA meeting for Laurie's
school tomorrow and you're working a late shift."

"Oh," Mickey looked crushed. "That's right, I forgot."

"Why don't you three do a breakfast?" Minn suggested.

"They do breakfasts?" Mickey asked.

Minn shrugged. "I don't see why not. Come on, let's not
talk about breakfast. It's dinner time and I have a
beautiful lamb roast that's getting cold..." she put her arm
around Mickey's waist and led him through the living room
towards the kitchen.

Starkweather looked sideways at Doggett as they followed.
"You okay?" she murmured, concern shining in her eyes,
those dark, strange Mulder-eyes.

Doggett smiled at her. She must have overheard Laurie's
comment to him. The woman missed nothing. "Sure," he said.
"It's okay."

Starkweather patted him on the back and smiled
sympathetically as they went to dinner.


Meanwhile
Ben and Jeri's apartment
Washington DC

Ben, head aching, at first was going to let the answering
machine take the call. But when he heard a familiar voice
say "Jerilyn? Ben? It's me," Ben rolled off the couch to
answer.

"Hi Jeremy," Ben said to his father-in-law, stifling a
cough.

"Ben, hi... are you alright?" The Admiral Jeremy Bailey asked
him.

"Oh, just fighting a cold. How are you sir?" Ben said,
hating himself for being so stiff and chilly. On the other
side, this man, who had adopted Jerilyn as an infant was
just recently exposed for being a part of the dreaded
Syndicate. That foul and secret organization who stole away
Mulder's full sister Samantha, implanted chips into
Scully's neck to give and take away cancer, not mention
give and take away fertility, murdered Mulder's father,
murdered Scully's sister and may have done terrible things
to Jerilyn when she was a helpless baby. Plus the Admiral's
involvement with the Syndicate nearly got Ben killed for
the simple fact that he was the poor mortal who married
Jerilyn. Ben never really got over that.

But dammit, he seemed to be such a frail and broken man.
Ben still had trouble believing that the Admiral was
capable of what he was accused of.

"Not too bad, not too bad. I just... I wanted to call to
say..." the Admiral sighed, giving up. "She still won't talk
to me, will she, son?" he asked mournfully.

Ben sighed too. "I'm sorry Jeremy," Ben said sincerely.
"She's still really upset over what happened."

"You know I did everything I could to get you out of that
mess, Ben."

Ben wanted to believe him. He lit a cigarette and
remembered being beaten and drug out of his motel room.
Thrown into a trunk of a car. Told Jerilyn was murdered.
Left to die in a burning warehouse building. If Scully and
that funny little man, Manny Ibarra, hadn't found him, Ben
would be one crispy critter. Ben wondered what the old man
did to aid in his rescue.  "I know," Ben lied, opting for
diplomacy. "It's just... the whole thing's just overwhelming,
you know?"

Jeremy sighed, looking up at the ceiling, while laying on a
comfortable bed in his favorite hotel in Washington DC.
"Trust me, I know how you feel." The Admiral said with a
sigh. "Is Jerilyn not there?"

"No," Ben said bitterly. "She's in New York right now on a
seminar."

"Oh," The Admiral said, disappointment deepening his voice.
"Well... Ben... I'm in town for a few days... I'd love to see
you. Maybe... you can help me mend bridges between me and my
daughter?"

Ben about erupted into mad laughter. <<ME??? Help YOU mend
bridges?? How am I supposed to fix things between you and
Jeri when I can't even fix things between me and Jeri.>>
"Well... I wouldn't mind seeing you," Ben said slowly. "Maybe
meet for lunch tomorrow."

The Admiral sounded like he just won the lottery. "That...
that would be great, Ben. Want to just meet me at the
Marriott? That's where I'm staying."

"Sure," Ben always wondered why the Admiral stayed at a
hotel when he was married to Senator Jenneva Wesley-Bailey,
currently one of the more influential senators in Congress
right now. But he never asked. "Noon?"

"That would be great," the Admiral said again, almost
pathetically. "Looking forward to it."

"Okay," Ben said. "I'm sorry, I hate to be rude, but I need
to lay down."

"Oh sure, oh sure," the Admiral said quickly. "See you
tomorrow."

"Bye," Ben said and hung up the phone. "God...." He said. He
had enough problems, he did not want to get caught in
between Jerilyn and the Admiral.

The Admiral, meanwhile, put the phone back on the hook and
took a deep breath. It was a small step, but a step
nevertheless, towards redemption. It had to be. The Admiral
could not believe that his dark secrets could have cost him
the one thing he loved more that his career, more than his
dearly departed first wife, Lynette, more than his own
life.

He was confident that Jerilyn would stop referring to Bill
Mulder as her father and start calling him 'Dad' again.


Later on that night...
Mickey and Minn's apartment

The mammoth meal had finally tapered off to coffee spiked
with Bailey's Irish Cream, out on the balcony. After much
pleading, for the girls adored their "Uncle" John and
wanted to monopolize his time, Mickey finally ordered the
girls to retire to their rooms for the rest of the evening.
"It's grown-up time. Now SCRAM!"

"But Pop," Cindy whined. "I'm not a baby. I'm practically
an adult already."

"An adult at fifteen, God help us," Mickey groaned.

"Oh no fair," Claudia instantly jumped in. "If she gets to
stay, then I do too. I mean, I'M the one who's graduating
this spring. Cindy JUST started high school!"

"I get to stay too then," Laurie crossed her arms and
pouted. "I'm not a baby either."

"Youse three are all babies. As long as you live in my
house-"


"This isn't a house," Cindy pointed out, "it's an
apartment."

Mickey continued his tirade as if his wise-assed middle
child hadn't spoken "- and eat my food, youse are my baby
girls and youse three best GIT," Mickey roared but it good-
natured. Starkweather suspected that this little comedy was
performed nightly.

"Dad-"

"GO!!" he barked. Then he said,  "But gimme some lovin'
first." He pointed to his cheek. Dutifully each girl pecked
his cheek. "Alright. Good night."

"Night, Pop," Cindy said sulkily.

"Dibs on the computer," Claudia announced and ran off.

"NO FAIR!" Cindy yelled.

"I got research for a paper to do, so shut up!" came
Claudia's merry voice down the hall.

"Ma, she's gonna tie up the phone line and I'm expecting a
HIGHLY important phone call later!" Cindy appealed to her
mother.

"What fifteen year old child gets important phone calls?"
Minn challenged her.

"From her boyfriend," Laurie announced in a singsong voice.

"Why, you little rat!!!" Cindy swatted at her little sister
who dodged the blow and ran to her room.

"A boyfriend??" Minn smiled. Starkweather and Doggett
politely retreated to the balcony to lessen Cindy's
humiliation. Even with the glass door shut, Mickey's
boisterous voice could be heard:

"BOYFRIEND?? What's this about a BOYFRIEND??? At YOUR
age???"

"Gawd, POP...."

Starkweather shook her head, sipped her coffee. "You
couldn't pay me enough to be fifteen again."

Doggett shrugged. "Ah... it wasn't so bad."

"Oh God, you're not one of those who... LIKED high school,
are you?"

"Well, I didn't HATE it. "

"Oh lord, I don't trust ANYBODY who even remotely enjoyed
high school one little bit. Next thing you'll be telling me
is that you played high school football."

"Offensive linesman."

"That's it. I can't talk to you anymore."

Minn joined them, shaking her head. "Teenagers," she
chuckled. "You couldn't pay me enough to be fifteen again."

Starkweather looked at Doggett and stuck out her tongue.

"Hey, Doggett!" Mickey stuck his head through the door. "I
finally got rid of the rugrats. I was just about ready to
resort to hugging them in public-"

"Kill 'em with kindness," Minn said with a grin. "It's a
great parenting tool. Especially with teenagers when
they're positively allergic to your presence."

"Come play bartender with me. Minn, whaddya want?"

"Sweet and sour vodka."

"And, the lovely Mrs. Starkweather? What's your poison?"

"Do you have Jack?"

"Jack? Jack's a very good friend of mine. 'Long with Jim,
Johnnie and Captain Morgan."

"Jack and Coke please."

"As the lady wishes." Mickey bowed theatrically. "C'mon
Doggett, I need a barback."

Doggett grinned and went inside, walking toward the
kitchen.

"There you are!" Mickey boomed when Doggett came in. "Get
lost?"

"Just about. Shoulda left me a map."

"Thought about leavin' a breadcrumb trail, but you know.
Minn would scream about the carpet, tell me to vacuum. I'd
tell her no, that's women's work, she'd make me sleep on
the couch, yadda yadda yadda."

"You watch too much 'Seinfeld'."

"Shut up and get me some ice." Mickey said. "And hey,
whaddya you want?"

"Jack and Coke's fine with me too."

"'Kay that's three JD's and one foo-foo drink for the
missus."

"Speaking of missuses," Doggett began awkwardly. "How's...
um..."

"Your ex?" Mickey finished for him. "Same. Still a b*tch,
but that's my opinion. She and Minn still thick as thieves
so I say no evil, see no evil, hear no evil. Why you ask?
Thinkin' 'bout mending fences. Or lookin' for closure?"

"Both."

Mickey handed him his and Starkweather's drinks. "Look. I
know you loved her. And you love her still, it's in your
face man, I ain't stupid. Nobody is. But..." he shook his
head. "Let sleepin' dogs lie. She's bitter. She's unhappy.
Havin' you pop back in the picture isn't gonna make one
damn bit of difference, especially while she's busy making
her new husband miserable. So, just forget about it. Forget
about her. And start hopin' that the enticing Mrs.
Starkweather gets divorced."

"Ha," Doggett said, lamely.

Meanwhile, out on the balcony, the enticing Mrs.
Starkweather turned to Minn, "In case I forget or I'm too
bombed to form complete sentences," she grinned at her, "I
had a really great time tonight."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Jerilyn," Minn said, "I'm glad
you and John came. I was half afraid he wouldn't, that he'd
make some excuse," she sighed and drained the rest of her
coffee.

"Dogg- er... um, John," his first name fell awkwardly out of
her mouth, especially without the prefix of "Papa" she
bestowed on him because of his continual fussing over her,
"isn't the type to duck out of things."

"Oh, I know, but circumstances are a little different..." she
leaned on the balcony rails and looked out into the
glittering city below. Starkweather finished her coffee and
joined her, awed and humbled by the power man had over
steel, brick and electric light. In a soft voice, Minn
said, "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, but you and
John seem really close. Not like that!" she chuckled when
she saw the look of dismay cross her face. "My husband was
teamed up with a female cop once. I had no problem with it
but her husband... let's just say he was less than trusting."

<<I can relate>> Starkweather thought dismally but said
nothing.

"But, it's safe to say you two are friends, right?"

"Oh yes. He's one of my best friends." Starkweather nodded.
"He's a great guy."

"I know," Minn said. "That's why I fixed him up with one of
my best girlfriends. He eventually married her... and she
ended up divorcing him."

"Oh. Jesus," Starkweather said sympathetically. "Talk about
being in the middle."

"It was not a good time. It would be easy to blame their
marriage's disintegration on the death of that poor little
boy... god..." Minn's eyes teared up a little. "Sorry, but, you
didn't know him. I did. Such a sweetie. Like his daddy in
every way. He used to play with my youngest," she shook her
head. "It's just something you never get over, I guess.
Maybe they would have worked things out if Luke was still
here, but... when all of that happened... there wasn't a chance
in hell."

"Oh god," Starkweather's heart ached. Her martial issues
seemed petty now. "I didn't know."

"John's never been good about talking much about what's
goin' on in his heart," Minn smiled knowingly. "That's what
was his fault in the marriage. I'm not being disloyal. His
ex-wife and I are still good friends. But she did things
that were wrong and he did things that were wrong. My
mother had a great sayin', there's three sides to a fight,
'their side, your side and the right side.'"

**************************************************

September 11, 2001
Logan International Airport
Boston, Massachusetts
8:03 AM Eastern Standard Time

Mulder ran through the airport as fast as his legs could
carry him, cursing himself for oversleeping and cursing
flagging down the one cabbie who refused to drive the taxi
any faster than the legal limits. <<Where do I go, where do
I go???>> he thought, panicking, looking for the American
Airlines terminal.

Panting, he ran up to the ticket counter, "Excuse me,
miss?? Am I late for Flight 11 to Los Angeles?"

The attendant, blond, pretty and sympathetic, smiled and
said, "I'm sorry sir, but it's already pulled away from the
terminal and getting ready for take-off."

Mulder's shoulders slumped. "No," he went to the windows
and sure enough, he saw the silvery Boeing 767 disappearing
down the runaway. "Damn," he said in frustration. Dragging
his suitcase, he returned to the ticket counter. "Miss," he
said wearily, "when's the next flight to Los Angeles?"

After she consulted the schedule and gave him the
information, Mulder slumped down in a chair to wait and
feel sorry for himself. This week was not going well at all
and it was only Tuesday.


The Pentagon
Washington DC
8:30 AM Eastern Standard Time

"Knock, knock," The Admiral Jeremy Bailey said, letting
himself into his old friend's office.

Admiral  Edward Martinsburg beamed. "Jeremy!" He got up and
went around his desk to shake his hand. "You ol' sea dawg.
What you've been up to lately?"

"Oh, just in town. See the wife, see my little girl."

"How's Arizona treatin' ya?"

"Not too bad," Jeremy chuckled.

"Heard your daughter working at the J. Edgar Hoover
building now," Edward said affably. "Good for her."

"Yeah," Jeremy said, kind of faintly. "We're proud of her."
He quickly changed subjects. "Listen, you got time for a
quick coffee break? I'd love to catch up with you, but I'm
already meeting my son-in-law for lunch."

"Hell, Bailey, you know I'll always make time for you," the
crusty old Admiral said to the other crusty old Admiral.
"Let's hit the chow hall."

"You go ahead, I'm gonna run over the Army side and see if
I can't find Rowley," another old friend of theirs. Jackson
Rowley was an old school friend of Bailey's. When Bailey
left for the Navy, Rowely signed up for the Army. Bailey,
through all the years had stayed in touch with Rowley, now
a bird colonel.

"Alright, then," Martinsburg patted Bailey on the back.
"See you in a bit then."

The Admiral then made his way down towards the Army branch
of the Pentagon.



Little Eagles Daycare Center
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington DC
8:36 AM Eastern Standard Time

Scully handed William off to Patti, who cuddled Will.
"Hello William," Patti cooed. "Welcome back," Patti looked
up and asked. "Are we staying on campus today or going out
in the field?"

"Staying on campus," Scully said,  "Lots of paperwork to
do. Let go of Mom's finger Will," Scully looked up at
Patti. "I'm probably going to come down here during my
lunch break," she told her.

"Oh that's fine," Patti said. "About what time should we
expect you?"

"Noon?"

"Alrighty then, say bye-bye, Mom! Bye-bye!" Patti helped
William wave.

Patti wondered why Agent Scully looked like she was about
to cry when she walked away. She shoved that thought out of
her head and went to the very serious work of minding the
several small people entrusted to her care.

Scully, meanwhile, got into the elevator and pressed the
"Down" button. She closed her eyes, straightened her navy
blue suit and forced herself to concentrate on the pile of
files waiting for her on her desk in the basement.