From: "Katherine Adams" Date: Fri, 29 Mar 2002 02:04:22 +0000 Subject: Starkweather: Quanta Source: direct Meanwhile..... Sam pulled up in front of Starkweather's apartment building, slightly apprehensive. Starkweather, to say the least had almost left the Land of Sanity for a trip to La La Land. With trepidation, he let himself in and rang her doorbell. Starkweather opened the door, "Hey Papa John," she said, with a weak smile. Sam noted, with a little amusement, that Starkweather was not an attractive lady when she wept or recovering from a bout of tears. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was blotchy. Starkweather must have realized how un-pretty she looked because she said wryly "Yes, I don't cry like a Hollywood glamour puss. My nose drips with snot, my eyes get all red..." she shook her head. "Come on in, Doggett." Sam did. "You should have called," he chided her. Starkweather shrugged. "Yeah... well..." "Starkweather..." "I know I know... stop being a lone soldier, let others help you, but dammit Doggett... tell me who the fuck I can trust? Skinner--understandably--is pissed at me because I've been less than professional... Scully is awesome... but... lord... I knew she and Mulder had some sort of thing going on... but I didn't know it was THAT serious... I mean I heard the rumors that Mulder may very well be the proud papa of Will... but... well... what if Mulder's guilty you know? Shit, man... I feel like I can't even trust my own father... I can't even trust my own MIND... I had a mental breakdown earlier... I'm seeing things... a person who's not even there... so who? Who can I trust?" "Me," Sam put his hands on her shoulders. "You can trust me, Doc." Starkweather looked up him. "Yeah..." She clenched and unclenched her fists over and over. "Doggett, if you weren't here... I don't know..." she looked at the ground, trying not to succumb to a fresh bout of tears, trying to revert back into FBI mentality. "I'm going to get the... um... Lone Gunmen to hack into the mainframe of Carter, Spangle and Adams so I can get ahold of the oil rig case that Ben was working on... I swear to God... there's a connection to this... and I owe Ben at least this much... to figure out exactly why he was..." She put her hand to her eyes. "Oh god dammit Doggett," she whimpered, "Things with me and Ben were supposed to be BETTER when we moved here." Sam drew her close to him. "Starkweather... as hard as it is to believe right now... it will get better..." Starkweather didn't respond, she had lost her battle with the weak tears and was sobbing silently into his chest. Sam so desperately wanted to kiss her. Not to "start" anything, he respected her too much just to jump into the sack with her. Just to comfort her, to give her physical reassurance, to make her like that someone gave a damn. But Ben was still alive... and he didn't think the real Doggett would have, so he just cuddled her. Just then, Al appeared. 7:43pm Sedai Residence Ana Sedai sat in her kitchen nervously fidgetting with her coffee mug waiting for the water to boil. Her hair, originally mousey brown and now dyed a vibrant red, glistened in the light of the setting sun shining through the window. She thought the light almost looked tangible just then, the way the beams came up through the clouds. If you found just the right spot, she wondered if you could climb up to the very sun itself. Her brother Justin was on his way over for dinner with her family that evening. She hoped, for his sake as well as her own, that he had let Lily rest in peace. Ana was good friends with Lily before she disappeared. They had gone to church together, sat side by side in the choir, worked side by side at charity functions. The weeks before graduation, Lilly had bored Ana to tears with stories of how wonderful her step-brother was. She remembered Justin showing her the ring he was planning to give her and wondering flipantly if he would ever actually have the guts to give it to her. "That would be Justin." She said quietly, sighing anxiously as she went to answer the door. Her son Peter was sitting in the greatroom zombily staring at the television set. Sometimes she wondered if he was conscious of what he was looking at. If she was going to have a heart-to-heart with her step-brother, he would have to go. "Peter, honey," she chirpped sweetly, "can you go play video games in your room while I talk with your uncle?" Without a word, the boy left the room, and she opened the door. "You look...tired...Jus." she said after they hugged their hellos. "Just a lot going on these days, Ana. Big case at work piling up on me. Where's Mr. Sedai?" "He's got a convention in Boston, Justin," she looked at him frankly, "you're not a part of a lawfirm anymore." "Who told you?" he demanded. "You still have my house listed as your mailing address. Your unemployment check came Thursday." She said with a thin, wan smile crossing her lips, waving the check like a white flag. "I'm working...with some people that may help me find Lily, Ana." he said, sighing heavily. "They told me they know where she is and a man told me he could get her back." "Do you really think Lilly is going to want you anymore?" She fired back. "You're not the same man you were the night she left!" Her words seared into him. "This--obsession--you have with her--has turned you into some kinda monster. You're not a man anymore." she said sadly. "You're her ghost." "I don't know what else to do, Ana." He whispered hoarsely. "I can't give up on her. I don't even care if she would still marry me anymore. My life is no longer my own. I can't sleep--I barely eat enough to live. If these people are who they say they are and can help me find her--then maybe I can be redeemed. I am the reason those--those-- things took her. The worst part of it is," he said, choaking down sobs, "I didn't do a damn thing to stop it. I just let that beam carry her up. I just let them take her away." "Be fair to you, Jus. To me." She pleaded. "Could you honestly have done something without getting yourself killed?" "The scary part is, ever since that night, I don't think I've been alive." "Do you think Lilly would be happy right now knowing what this has done to you? Now," she said with a warm smile, "come on and help me with the salad." The dinnertable was nervously quiet; forged conversations had never been either one's forte. The meal, consisting of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes overdone limabeans and a salad, gave all who were present a gratefull excuse to be silent. Finally, Peter broke the silence with an announcement after one last long gulp of milk. "The coach wants us there forty-five minutes early for pictures at practice tomorrow, Mom." "I hated picture days when I was your age." Justin began. "This one time, I was on a team just like you are and we had to take a picture, only just before, two of the guys on my team had bothered a wasp nest under the bleachers. Right before picture time, a whole bunch of wasps came flying at all of us. We musta looked pretty silly all nine of us hopping into the Coach's van!" "I betchya would've looked even sillier in the pictures if the wasps hadn't come." Peter sneared. "Eat your limabeans, Peter." Ana scolded her son crisply. "If you don't finish them you won't get desert." "Your Mom has cherry pie tonight, Pete. You better eat up." Justin urged helpfully. "I don't like cherry pie." Peter grumbled. "You haven't had *this* cherry pie." Justin coaxed. "I've had five peices of cherry pie, and I didn't like any of 'em. Why should I like the sixth." "Your mom didn't make this one." That remark earned Justin a playful punch in the shoulder from his step-sister. "We have your favorite icecream--the Ben&Jerry's Phishfood in the freezer. That's where it will stay if you don't finish up your limabeans." "Besides, kiddo, you gotta eat your veggies. If you don't you'll look like me and girls won't touch you with a ten foot pole." That persuaded the boy to eat his lima beans. With those finished, he took his plate over to the sink, and the other two adults followed. "He's at a difficult age." She said, excusing his attitude. "So am I." Justin replied as he began clearning the dishes. "So how's the jobhunt coming?" Ana asked as she ran the plates under the faucet. "I told you, I've got a job." Justin answered, subsequently loading the plates into the dishwasher. "I'm defending the Deputy Mayor of DC. It's all in the papers." "Yeah, I heard about that. The case any good?" She said over the running water rinsing the silverware. "All the evidence against him is circumstantial. The DA's got nothing solid on him." He said over the clinking of the silverware in the dishwasher. "I don't think you're telling me everything, Justin." "I don't think you need to know everything, Ana." "Listen, Jus. I'm looking out for *you* here. Your my half- brother...but I never thought of us like that. I just don't want anything to happen to you because of someone who may or may not be alive." "When the Deputy Mayor was in the FBI, he specialized in alien activity. If he can't help me find her, then the people who put me on that case can." "What do you mean?" She demanded, raising a questionning eyebrow. "These people who put me on this case...they're fighting a cause...this old guy and this blonde Russian b*tch are at the healm. They have a lot of power." "Jus...these people sound dangerous." She answered angrily. "They're powerful, too, Ana." He fired back desperately. "They can get me the answers I've been after ever since that awful night." "I just don't want you to be wiped off the face of this earth like that poor girl was. You are in way over your head Big Brother," she warned. "I think I was in way over my head with Lilly." He answered softly. "Remember when we were kids? I think when they hire faculty for the school, they ask for teachers, a principal, a vice principal and a bully. Anyway...it was your last year in grammar school and it was my second year, and you found out somehow that a bunch of bullies were stealing my lunch money. You went to confront them, but got into a brawl." Her features became drawn... "They broke your nose, and fractured your wrist...if the teacher didn't break it up, I think you would've had a broken neck. You've always done stuff like that. I'm just wondering when the teacher won't come out to save your ass." "I'll turn the porch light off on my way out." Justin growled and stormed out the door. Ana hoped that he wasn't going to get bitten by the sharks. Out of her giant bay window, Ana watched Justin storm off the porch and down the sidewalk towards his car in a huff. She heard a buzzing noise in the background... "Mom," Peter said, rolling his eyes in typical pre-teen fashion. "MOOOOOOOOOOM... hell-LO, earth to Mom." Startled out of her reverie, Ana turned to her boy. "What?" she said, a little more tired than she meant to be. Sometimes, Justin just drained the life out of her. "Phone," Peter said. As Ana walked back to the kitchen, Peter tailed her. "Hey, Mom, can I go to Mike's house tonight?" "Clean your room first," Ana said automatically which sent her son grumbling upstairs. She picked the phone up. "Hello?" "Mrs. Sedai?" A swarmy male voice asked. "Yes?" <> she groaned inwardly. "You have five minutes to get out of the house." Dial tone. Ana raced out of the kitchen and to the foot of the stairs. "Pete! Peter, come down here, now!" Peter, alarmed by the panicky tone of her voice, actually came down immediately. "Wha-" he started to say but his mother grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the door... Justin Leo was four blocks away from his half-sister's house when he saw the explosion in the rearview mirror. Cutting off a Suburu while doing an illegal U-turn, he floored it back to Ana's house... The wailing of fire trucks were in the distance. Startled neighbors were standing in their doorframes stunned. A few had come to their senses and were coming out to assist the figures laying in the middle of the road. Leo squealled his tires to a halt and ran to Ana, who was sitting up, holding a weeping Peter. "Peter, Peter, buddy," Leo grabbed the boy's face and kissed his forehead soundly. "Are you hurt?" The boy shook his head but pointed to the hole in the ground where his house used to. "Smokey was in the house," he sobbed, referring to his beloved dog. As the ambulances pulled up to assist a shaken Ana and her devastated son, Leo's cell phone began to ring. He answered as the paramedics lifted Ana onto a stretcher. "What?" "Consider that a warning, Leo," Marita Covarrubias hissed. "I told you to get your ass to the safe house." She hung up the phone with a vengence. <> she seethed, <> He worked for HER, not CSM, not the Admiral. He worked for her and he screwed up royally. She was glad she had the foresight to put listening devises in Ana's house years ago when Leo came to work for her. She figured it would keep him honest. Now he just about blew the entire mission to her. So, Marita reasoned, she blew up the house. Next time he screwed up, she'd make sure she'd kill more that just a dog. "You two are staying with me tonight. Peter, on the week- end, we'll go to the pet store and get you another dog, alright?" "I don't want another dog." Peter mumbled, horrified of the thought that Smokey was as replacible as his clothes. "Peter, don't talk that way to your Uncle." Ana scolded, then turned her wrath on Leo, who had just finished talking with the police. "Justin, what if the--those people--the ones who burnt down my house come after you?" She seethed. "Justin, whatever the hell it is you've gotten into, I want you out! I don't give a damn what you do to yourself anymore, but I will NOT let you destroy my son!" "How come you can yell at him but I can't?" Peter whined, but wished he could take it back as soon as he saw the damning glare his mother flashed him. The defensive, recoiled look in Leo's eyes made Ana realize the harshness of her words. "Oh, Jus...I didn't mean it like that--" she immediately apologized. "It's ok...and you're right." He said, sighing heavily. "The people after me may hit again. I should have thought of that. I'll put you and Pete in a hotel tonight until I figure out how to stop these people." "Justin...I have lost my house." She said pointedly. "I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on." Meanwhile... In Coffee is My Friend 24 hr Coffee shop ******************************************** "Ana..." Justin began, fiddling with the cigarette holder in his breast pocket. Ben tried to use the lighter as a weapon in the struggle a couple of nights ago, and with possible traces of skin and fingernail on it, there was no way he was going to let it be found in the car. Not wanting to look at her, he simply replied, "I can't." "Jus," Ana countered, "we were almost blown up tonight. Everything I own is GONE...you HAVE to tell me." "If I tell you, they'll kill all of us." "Who's *they*?" She demanded "Them." Leo answered flatly. "I seriously don't know who THEY are beyond a group of people I work for." Then eager to end the conversation, he steered the topic, "Come on, you need to find a place to stay. The sooner we get you guys outta here, the safer you are." "You mean the safer *you* are." She hissed. "Justin exactly what have you gotten yourself into?" "Deep shit." was all Leo could answer. "Apparently." Ana snorted. "I can't handle this Justin," she said with a frustrated sigh, "I love you, but if you don't stop dealing with this group, I'm going to have to put a restraining order on you." "I don't blame you, Ana. Look...I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused." "When all is said and done, do you think it will really help you find Lily?" she asked quietly. "Yes...they promised me that...but if that means you shut me out then..." Leo couldn't finish. "Are these people good at keeping promises?" "I don't think so." "Then you should get out. Get away from them. Get a fresh start." "I don't think I can." *********************************************************** "Marita, you should have been more careful." The Admiral reprimanded. "Blowing up a house like that only makes us high profile. The police will want to know what's going on." "I made sure that there's nothing left to investigate. No arsen charges will be made tonight. Look, old man," she seethed, "I had to make sure that cocky little shit knew who was in charge." "Are you in charge, my dear?" The Admiral demanded. "If the human race can keep the illusion that we're in control of this planet just a little bit longer, and if that means keeping Spender and Leo in check, then yes...I'm in charge." "How can you be so sure?" "The same way anyone is sure of anything." She said with a sly smile. "By not thinking too hard about it." The news was all over the explosion in the quiet suburbian neighborhood. The Lone Gunmen, still so stunned by their recent discovery of the link between Mulder and Starkweather however, probably would have paid no mind to the horrifying event if Langly hadn't looked up at the TV and said "Crap." "What?" Frohike adjusted his glasses, smudged with fingerprint dust. The boys were trying to deduce who the benefactor of their package was. "You guys missed it," Langly said. "A house blew up for no reason in the 'burbs and guess who was in the neighborhood?" "Tom Hanks?" "No... and Byers what kind of stupid, lame-ass answer is 'Tom Hanks'?" "Well... he did make that terrible comedy called "The 'Burbs", naturally this was all pre- 'Sleepless in Seattle', 'Philadelphia', 'Forest Gump' and let's see... oh yes! 'You've Got Mail' and 'Saving Private Ryan' and 'Castawa-" "Hey, Leonard Maltin!" Frohike snapped. "Get to the point." "Well, I was merely making an attempt at humor since the atmosphere has been quite dark ever since we made the discovery that Mulder and Mrs. Starkweather share more that just the supreme talent of getting under everyone's skin." "You're just pissed because she made you crap your pants when she stuck that gun in your face, Virgin Monkey Boy." "STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!" "Dudes!" Langly broke in. "Mulder's lawyer was in the neighborhood." Frohike shrugged. "So?" "Well..." Langly babbled. "Doesn't that strike you as kinda weird?" "Why?" Langly paused. "I dunno," he admitted. "Langly," Frohike spluttered, absolutely frustrated. "I think the peroxide is soaking into your brain. And I can't find one damn print on this box." "What about the vials?" "Worthless. We handled them too much." "Wait a minute..." Byers said quietly, going to the computer. "What?" Langly asked. "Langly, you may have for once in you life, been observant about something." "So the LSD didn't kill off ALL of his braincells? That's a relief," Frohike grumbled. "Well... call me insane-" "Insane," Langly and Frohike droned at the same time. "But personally, I think it would be odd that a prominent lawyer would be at the site of an explosion but not necessarily damning..." "So... how was I observant?" Langly demanded. "Well, when you pointed out Mr. Leo to us on the TV, that reminded me that I had asked one of our associates to get documented history on Mr. Leo, because... again... another coincidence... when I spoke to Mulder on the phone-" "When did you get to talk to Mulder?" Frohike pouted. Byers ignored him "-he mentioned his defense attorney was from Carters, Spangle and Adams... which was the law firm Mr. Starkweather worked for..." Byers opened his email and saw a message from Jimmy Bond with a ZIP attachment. "Now... does that strike you as odd?" he queried as he opened the email and waited for the ZIP file to download. "No." Langly said. Frohike stood on his tiptoes and slapped him upside the head. "Ow!!!" "Why would a lawyer from the firm Ben was working at send a lawyer to defend Mulder?" "Cause lawyers are dogs?" Frohike hit him again. "Stop that!" "Well," Byers said mildly. "Not all, but THIS lawyer is a dog, like I suspected." "Wha'cha got?" Frohike leaned in closer. "HR records from CS and A. Mr. Leo was terminated from the firm as of May 13, 2002. And this... if Jimmy did his job..." Byers double-clicked his mouse. "Ah ha..." Langly and Frohike looked at the jibber-jabber on the scene. "What the hell is that?" "Data retrieved from Washington DC Workforce Development. Mr. Leo is a lawyer on unemployment." Byers clicked on the next file. "His bank statement Yves hacked from Wells Fargo site. Virtually empty." "So what the hell is going on?" Frohike said. "If he's getting a payoff, where is it? And what made you so suspious of Leo in the first place?" "Mulder said that Leo is doing this case pro-bono." "AHhhhhhhhhh," Langly and Frohike said. "And, well, when Mulder said that... I had to do a little digging. Find out what kind of character that this Mr. Justin Leo is. And I find this..." Byers shook his head. "But when we got that package... I completely forgot all about Leo and the case." "Me too," Langly admitted. Frohike closed his eyes. "Guys... we've been had." Byers and Langly exchanged confused looks. "I don't follow," Byers said slowly. "This," Frohike held up the note from the package. "'The answers are in here?' Bullshit. We were sent this to keep us busy. To throw us off the trail..." "Because the answers in there..." Langly said, putting the pieces together. "would distract us from what we were working with Mulder and Dog-breath in the first place... The fucking oil rig!" he cried as he raced to his computer and started to type frantically on his computer. Then, his body slumped in his sit, head lolling back in defeat. "We're too late. There's massive firewalls built around the Galpex site. They even found the rabbit-holes we created and filled them. It's going to take time to get back in there." "Time we ain't got." Frohike ran his fingers through what was left of his hair. "F*ck," he muttered inaudibly. "I hear ya, brother," Langly groaned, pulled on his own hair in frustration. "Why were we so stupid????" Byers scratched his beard. "We're not stupid." He said in his quiet voice. "We were distracted by the red herring. But we are not stupid." Byers began to type. "Mrs. Starkweather was working on a connection between the oil rig and the Air Force base where the downed planes came from and I think it's safe to say that the USAF and the FBI have not strengthened their firewalls as Galpex has." Frohike and Langly raised their head. "Well, Hippie," Frohike said. "Make some coffee...." Meanwhile.... Back in Jail... Do not cross Go Do not collect $200... um.... sorry... anyways.... Manny was sound asleep, snoring loudly as drool dribbled down his face. Mulder paid him no mind. Under the guise of reading a book, Mulder was trying to quietly finish piecing together what Starkweather had started. But first he had to get inside her head. <> he moaned to himself, little realizing that Starkweather had the same reaction when she had decided to profile him. "Alright, Jerilyn," Mulder closed his eyes remembering their first encounter. He had by surprised at her small frame and baby face. She was a woman creeping towards middle-age with extreme defiance. Nature had been very kind to her, and Mulder remembered she was damn well how kind Nature was to her and used Nature's kindness to her advantage, lulling people into a sense of security... until they pissed her off and she opened her mouth. Judging by their few and far inbetween meetings, for Starkweather did not hide the fact she was not overtly fond of him and so did not make a point to talk to him, unless she absolutely had to, Mulder knew for a fact she rarely backed down from confrontation. Plus she was not afraid of using force, at all, Mulder recalled, ruefull rubbing his neck where she tried to choke him. <> he couldn't help thinking. But her violent outbust only proved what Mulder had thought from the beginning, if someone could look beyond the childishly sweet face and into her eyes and ignore the cutting tongue, they would see the passionate and loyal heart that drove Starkweather into doing what she believed was right. Coupled with her feral intelligence that could took swipes at people's foolishness and corruption fearlessly, someday she would be a force to reckon with. But not until she learned to curb her naturally salty tongue. Her mouth and her attitude was going to get her in trouble time and time again until she grew up. In fact, Mulder's ears still rang with the snarls of his first fight with her, when she had busted him and the Lone Gunmen for trying "To break into my home, to tamper with my phones, to add surveillance cameras to monitor my movements for my protection? That a little Air Force medic retiree and current FBI agent, who survived Basic training, medical training, FBI training and a Slipknot concert is so inept at self-defense that a illegally placed surveillance equipment is going to be adequate protection?" "I don't doubt your abilities to take care of yourself, Jerilyn," Mulder said patiently. "You're a very capable, competent woman-" "Gee, can you be any more patronizing?" "Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather, do you have an open mind?" "It's fairly open, but not so much that my brains fall out." "Jerilyn, you need to listen to me now, your life is in danger." "I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due to my choice" << "I'm a federal agent. My life is in danger everyday due to my choice.">> And that was the stumbling block, Mulder reasoned, keeping Starkweather from achieving healthy self-actualization. <<**I'm.** **My life** **My choice**>> Her pride and her arrogence and fear of loss, fear of being alone. Never a **we** heard anywhere. Mulder smiled and shook his head. <> he sighed to himself. Pushing his own issues aside, he delved deeper into Starkweather's psyche. As of right now, she believes her husband is dead and her dedication to duty and honor is probably fueling the fire of guilt that's burning her up. She believes that she should have stopped Ben from his fool's errand and now that he's gone, she owes it to him to find the truth. <> he wondered before his profiling went on... So where would she go for answers? Well... she probably checked HIM inside and out. If she was as good as people were saying, Mulder thought smugly, then her profile is not going to match the true "murder" suspects, which will raise the hairs on the back of her neck. So now she's dealing with whether to believe or not believe, to be or not to be, the eternal question. Unable to handle emotions, she probably hides away to cry, only to come out feeling worse, but in extreme denial and harboring much guilt, she will try to shove those feelings even deeper down, trying to be professional... Until a gesture of sadness or kindness makes her crack. Mulder sighed. Or a hologram appearance, that could make her crumble. <> Mulder backed up. While she was in professional mode, she probably went back to square one. That damn oil rig. There was a reason why Ben was ordered to prosecute it and why he was silenced for it. Mulder wondered how far back in the oil rig case did she go? Did she explore the history of the vicious Black Oil known as Purity? She would have... Mulder believed... or at least... I would have... He scoured his memory for the conversation he and Scully had after her mission to Scotland, with Doggett and Starkweather in tow. Incidently, it was Starkweather's first X-File. The Lone Gunman had just brought him to Scully's after his futile attempt to make the Hurricane understand how much danger she really was in. He was retchedly ill, literally. Before Scully brought him to bed, he threw up her favorite shoes. After she took his temperature and listened to him whine about how he felt like such a loser, a puppet, a sell-out, thoughts planted by the benevolent Starkweather herself. Scully had basically told him to stop whining because she was there and together, they had battled worse odds. To change the subject, Mulder had asked her about the trip. "A complete diaster," she had said, once again mopping his hot brow with the soft, cool, damp cloth. "We lost our only witness and the legal evidence was confiscated by the United States Army. It's under lock and key, we can't touch it. The case is dead in the water." "Legal evidence?" Mulder had rasped, striken with bronchitis. He remember how much it hurt to breath, how much effort it took to even keep his eyes open, but he wanted to listen. He wanted to stay awake. "Are you implying that there's not-so-legal evidence?" "Starkweather killed a bounty hunter. She doesn't believe that it was alien, of course, but... anyway... samples of the blood was collected to be sent to Quantico, but Doggett took one of the samples." "Doggett?" Mulder had hardly been able to contain his mirth, despite how bad he felt. "Puppy-Man?" "Stop it Mulder," Scully gestured Mulder to sit up, which he did. Scully slid behind him and he rested his head on her, closing his eyes as she continued to bathe his face, throat and chest with the cooling water. "And when we examined the downed aircraft, Starkweather noticed an abnormality with the c*ckpit shield... she said the glass looked to be heated enough to liquidify, then cooled down and solidify again. Starkweather helped herself to a piece of glass." Mulder had chuckled. "Mulder, it's not funny. They violated a crime scene, they disturbed evidence..." "Scully, Scully, Scully, how often has our work been sabotaged? I think Starkweather and Doggett are engaging in a little CYA if you ask me." Mulder had sighed in exhaustion and relief when he felt Scully's cool fingers rub his temples. "But you still have no idea why this plane went down?" "I can't think of any. Starkweather was muttering she might have a hunch, but before she said anything, she passed out and Doggett took her home." Mulder had startled at that, tried to sit up, but Scully had pushed him gently back down against her again. "Remember how I told you that van the bounty hunters were driving were hurtling towards her? She threw herself across the hood of another car to avoid being mowed down by the runaway truck. Also an Army lietenant hurt her arm pretty badly. Come to think of it... she also hit her head pretty hard when we had to make that emergency landing in Rome... I'm surprised she held up this long." "But you don't remember what her hunch was?" "Mulder, don't press. It's not good for you, it's not good for me. You're sick and I'm tired." She had stroked his hair and used the same soothing voice that she did with little Will when he was fussing. "Mulder, just let it go... it'll be fine, just rest, just close your eyes and let it go..." And Mulder had let go and fallen into fitful sickly sleep until the LGM returned from the errand to the drugstore like Scully asked him. She had roused him enough to take a heavy duty antiboditic and an even heavier antidecongestant. Then he truly let go and slept like the dead. Now, trapped in a cell which seemed to grow smaller and smaller every hour, Mulder was reaching for the thread that Scully told him to let go. <> Mulder's teeth clenched together. He longed for a sunflower seed. Stretching, he rotated his head left to right, hoping to pop his stiff neck. As he did this, he happen to look at Manny, still sleeping, still snoring. And the answer hit him like a Mack Truck. "Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud. He had the answer. He just hoped there was physical proof... he hoped it could be found before good ol' Billy Boy paid him a visit. "Oh my God..." Mulder said aloud. "What if the plane was SUPPOSED to crash???" Manny snorted in his sleep and rolled over, continuing to snore. Mulder began to pace. It made sense, it made perfect sense... according to what little Scully told him about the case in Scotland before she left with Doggett and Starkweather... several other military planes had taken off for routine missions and crash-landed way off course days later. According to Starkweather, several airbases had fueling contracts with the oil company. If Mulder was right... if the oil company was just a cleverly simple fascade for their real mission, to secretly import Purity into other countries... Mulder continued to pace. But wasn't the Black Oil transmitted by bees? He knew it was, Scully had nearly died from a bee from that weird farm in Texas. But the Black Oil was also transmitted just by touching it. Plus... God only knew how many other places there could be in the world that was genetically engineering killer-bees... Mulder went to the bars and grabbed the bars in desperation, wishing he had the strength of Billy Miles. If Ben would have been successful with bringing the case to trial, everything would have come out. Including the race of indigents that were immune to the Black Oil... which, Mulder realized frantically, is what the Syndicate was hiding... or rather the New Syndicate. Even though he knew that most of the "Old Guard" had been killed, he had the sneaking suspicion that someone was waiting in the wings for just such an event so he... or she could grab the reins. And if the New Syndicate was anything like the Old Syndicate... pretending to help the alien nation while trying to undermine their efforts... they would NOT want it to become public knowledge that some humans were immune... humans like the two brave souls who perished on the oil rig trying to stop their evil work... humans like himself and Scully... possibly Starkweather... but definitely... "William..." he breathed. "Oh no..." If Starkweather didn't wake up, if he didn't get out of this cell... the hell with the rest of the world, who was going to protect Scully and Will? "D-d-doggett..." Starkweather stammered "I think I should lay off the J.D.'s." "Starkweather?" Sam asked with an expression of forged confusion plastered on his face. After fifteen years of leaping, he had acquired acting skills. In a flash, he pulled the gun out of the shoulderholster and had it poised toward the gun. "Please..." she stammered, "tell me you see a man in a God- awful suit in this room? Because if you don't, Clarence is back...and you should check the yellow pages for nutfarms." "Awful?! What the hell do you mean awful?!" Al objected. "This material is top-quality 100 % silk! He can't see me. You're the only one who can see me honey." Al fibbed. "I think I'm going fucking insane..." She closed her eyes. "He's not real, in a minute, I'll wake up and this will all go away...he's just a figment of my imagination..." Mumbling, she walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured every drop of liquor that existed. "Who's there?" Sam immediately recoiled, poising his gun for show. Sam and Al, meanwhile, took the opportunity while her back was turned to them to relay a message *Mulder* Al exageratedly mouthed and pointed at his watch then pointed at Doggett's gun and then emphatically pointed at his head "Callivici," she swung around, and immediately Al and Sam both stiffened up, "Why'd you come back?" "Ummmmm...St. Peter wanted me to tell you that unless you stop cryin' me a river, Mulder's going to be killed in prison within..." he held up Ziggy and punched in data, "twenty four hours." "Glad to see Heaven's gotten an upgrade." Starkweather purred. "Why do you think we couldn't affoard the cleaning bill?" Al retorted. "Oh, I see. You cant affoard a cleaning bill but you can affoard technology that doesn't exist yet. It's a God damn miracle." "That's what Angel's do, isn't it?" "I can't believe I'm arguing with a figment of my imagination. God...I must be insane." "I'm not God, I'm--" Al protested. "Shut up!" Starkweather barked. It was hard for Sam not to hide his urgency. Aside from finding this situation slightly amusing, he desperately needed whatever information Al had to give him. So, he continued to play along. "Starkweather? Who are you talking to?" "Calivici...my gaurdian angel...with a pretty blinking calculator..." she said quizzically. Just then, Starkweather's cell phone rang. Scully's voice was urgent on the other end. "Starkweather, turn on the local news. There's something you should see. Sam gave her a questionning glance that was unanswered. Starkweather turned her television on from cable to local television. "A Gap commercial?" "No no no...it just went off the air...Mulder's lawyer is connected to an unexplained explosion. Al and Sam were both starring wide eyed at the next newsclip from the Spangle, Adams and Carter lawfirm. "Jiminy Christmas!" Starkweather murmuring at the sight of the man on the screen. "Look at that..." eyeing the cigarette holder..."looks a helluva lot like the cigarette holder I gave...he knows...holy F*ck! I think that man killed Ben...if he didn't kill Ben," she finished quietly, "...then he at least knows who did..." Starkweather faced the television set, nibbling her thumbnail, oblivious to Sam or Al. "Unless, he's in on it with Mulder, he is his lawyer, but... no if he was in with Mulder, he would have gotten him off on bail, if Leo was in on it with Mulder, there is no logical reason why Mulder would still be sitting in that jail cell..." she bit her lip. "Unless he's being set up..." she muttered to herself as the commericals droned on and on, a McDonald's spot, then a local spot for a furniture company, then the news was back on. The way-too-happy anchor woman re-informed Washington DC and the surrounding areas of the unexplained house explosion in a nearby suburb of DC. As the already over-played footage re-aired, the woman's voiceover announced how the fire marshall suspected foul play, but has not yet been determined. The picture flashed back to the family, a woman, cut, scraped and mildly burned hovering over her fear-striken son while a man, Justin Leo, tried to comfort them both. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered to herself, still thinking. "Starkweather?" Sam asked. "Hang on a sec," she said, dashing off into the bedroom. Sam was about to follow, but Al already vanished, centering on her. Sam heard a loud "CAN'T A GIRL GET SOME FUCKING PRIVACY YOU PERVERTED LITTLE HALUCINATION??" Al returned to Sam quickly, very red-faced, a rarity. "She's changing," he mumbled, punching at his little com- link to cover his massive embarrassment. "What's going on?" Sam hissed insistantly. "Does anything change?" Al began punching at his com-link for real now. "Mulder still croaks tomorrow night at straight up five o'clock Eastern time-" Just then, Caesar the Fat Orange Cat rounded the corner. His tail puffed up three times it's normal size, hissed at Sam, glared at Al. He lowered himself to ground, just like his bigger and wilder relations in Africa, waggling his rump, tensing his legs, preparing for the attack. Suddenly he lunged himself off the floor, hurtling himself towards Al, claws extended. Al, by now, used to animals freaking out on him, put his hands behind his back and waited patiently. The cat sailed right through him. Confused, Caesar flailed his paws wildly as he tried to control his landing. He belly-flopped onto the polished oak coffee table, sliding across it, knocking magazines and coffee cups off and falling into an undignified orange heap on the floor. Tucking his tail between his legs, Caesar slunk off to nurse his wounded pride in peace. "HA!!!" he barked at the retreating cat. "That makes up for every damn cat Ex- Wife Number... Four... Five... whatever... brought home to destory my house." "Al!" Sam snapped, although he had been privately amused by the entire scenario. "Oh oh oh right..." Al got back to work. "Oh... no... Sammmmmm.... Starkweather gets killed **tonight** now." "WHAT?!?!?!" Sam felt his heart and head spin. "How??? Why?" Just then, Starkweather came back, in baggy khakis cargo pants cinched tighly at her waist with a thick black belt, a chest-hugging tight black t-shirt while wearing one of Ben's dark grey dress shirts over it, shiny black boots Sam correctly guessed where from her days in the Air Force. Her hair was pulled tightly back in a harsh French braid. Over her head, she had tied on a black hankerchief, pulling her bangs back so anyone could clearly see the ugly scar she earned when her flight to London was crash landing in Rome. The tail of her braid swished back and forth as she walked out. She wore dark black sunglasses. Her mouth was pulled down what seemed to be a permanent frown. She looked evil. But what scared Sam more was the gun she was loading. "Starkweather, what are you doing?" She smiled coldly at Sam, the smile worse than the frown. "I'm gonna go have a chat with Mr. Leo," she said wickedly. "Don't know if you wanna come with Doggett. The game just got dirty and your suit is still sparkly clean." Sam looked down at Doggett's neatly pressed black suit, starched white shirt and grey and red and violet striped tie. With a sigh, Sam took his gun out, checked it, took it off of safety and put it back in his holster. "My suit's washable," Sam said. Starkweather stuck the gun in the back of her waistband, pulled Ben's shirt over it and grabbed her car keys. "Oh boy," Sam said, following... After Scully left the Admiral, she could not shake the feeling that he was not going to be honest with her. He was an old family friend, and she believed he truly wanted to do right, but that other forces were compelling him to do wrong. It was her job now to flush the compelling forces out and uncover the truth. The truth now, she hoped, would set Mulder free...literally this time. She needed to go to the county jail and tell Mulder everything she found. He would want to know he had a sister again, even if it was someone who had a powerful left hook that liked to meet his face. She had come to rely on Reyes in these times when she needed someone to stay with Will while she persued these questions, and was really not quite sure how she would repay the favor. The house phone rang just then, interrupting her train of thought which was in the middle of trying to determine the best next step in this investigation. "Dr. Scully, my name is J. Stephen Cello III." a young man began, "You don't know me, but one of my late colleauges worked with one of your colleagues." "What's this all about?" Scully was slightly irritated with a man automatically introduced himself as someone whose name sounded like the closing of Seseme Street . "Mr. Starkweather was my colleague." He answered sadly. "I was going over the police reports here in front of me on behalf of our lawfirm and your name came up. I think some things need to be brought to your attention." Scully got off the phone completely outraged. Mulder was being set up by the young lawyer, and she was sure it had something to do with the oil-rig. Now all she had to do was find the connection. She picked up the phone again. "Byers. It's Scully. Listen, I need you guys to do me a favor as fast as you can. Can you get me the phone records for Justin Leo and fax them for me? Thanks, I appreciate it." She was slightly puzzled when the records pulled up on her fax machine immediately. Al, taking a puff of his cigar, stood in the shadows. When he realized she didn't see the smoke, he stepped into the light. "Mulder..." she mumbled to herself, a thin smile gracing her lips, "you are one paranoid piece of work..." "Ain't he though?" Al said, grinning over her shoulder. Her brow crinkled in confusion when she saw one number from Sasha Krycek at PO Box 37 Cherry Lane Apts. She was interrupted on her way out again by yet another phone call. This time it was her cell, so she wasn't completely stopped. "Scully," Skinner began, "what have you found so far? I tried to get a hold of Starkweather, but she's busy at the moment." "Sir, I wish I could fill you in, but so am I. I'll get back to you in a few hours." Feeling in the way and out of the loop, Skinner sighed and dialed the number for the mayor. Scully wound down the streets towards the county jail apprehensively, and it had nothing to do with the place she was going. This whole ordeal was completely illogical. Who gets arrested on pure circumstantial evidence? Why did the judge set the bail so high? Where did the body come from? The only question unanswered surrounding the whole mess was that Ben was opening doors someone intended to keep locked. Tonight, before The Gunmen, Starkweather, and Doggett came for Mulder, she knew that she needed to find at least seven out of ten. If they weren't all going to serve time in prison, she needed solid proof. From what she could tell from Ben's colleague, Mulder's current lawyer was someone definately working with someone who had connections...but as far as she knew, the most connected man in Washington was dead. But, she reminded herself with a heavy sigh, "The phrase 'as far as I know' has a way of not going very far in this job." She knew without a doubt that if the break didn't succeed, Mulder would be moved to a state penetentiary. That wasn't the worst of the consequences, though. Her mother would undoubtedly be given full legal custody of William, while she, Starkweather, Doggett and the 3 Muskateers would be at the mercy of the court system. The truth that's out there would be abandoned, ignored, closed completely. But that wasn't going to happen. She was going to find the proof they needed. Mulder was going to help her after rush hour tomorrow, and then everything would be back to normal. she wondered. Scully pulled into the parkinglot and got out the paper she reached for after the Gunmen called. She scrawled the message that Starkweather was coming for him at rush hour, and beneath that some questions she knew Starkweather would need answers to if the stunt was to be successful. She folded up as small as possible and tucked it in her skirt. Because of the late hour, she was escorted into the visitation room by a gaurd, and while the gaurd went to get Mulder, she took the opportunity to get the paper out. She fervently wished that she could have brought Will with her. She knew Mulder would want to see him, and that maybe he would give the motivation she knew Mulder would need to pull this off. But it was past her bedtime. She knew that Parenting Magazine would not approve of bringing an infant to a jail at such a late hour. Scully never doubted Mulder's innocence. Even still, after all the horrors he'd been subjected to, she knew those monsters hadn't robbed him of his compassion. The only doubt that existed in her mind was whether or not they could prove it. She wasn't ready for this to be their goodbye. She sighed tentatively as she waited, and resolved that she wouldn't let that happen. Mulder was finally escorted into the visitation room. "You look tired, Scully." He said quietly, and took her hand through the glass. Scully thought he looked like he had probably stayed awake the entire time he was in custody. "It's been a hellish day. I went to Martha's Vineyard." "Finally decided to take a vacation there like a normal person?" He answered dryly. "Wow, Scully. I'm impressed. If that's what it takes to get you to have a vacation, I shouldda gotten arrested long ago." "Yeah, Mulder." She answered. "I went there to have my yearly rendez-vous with the pizza guy." Scully deadpanned. "That explains why you look so beat." He answered in his annoying monnotone with a sly smile. Not skipping a beat, he took her hand through the gap in the plexiglass at the bottom, and in the same tone of voice, he asked "How's Will?" "A lot like you at this moment." Scully said with a wan grin of her own. Then slid the paper into the palm of his hand. And with one glance into his eyes, she made it understood that this wasn't something to clue the gaurds in on. "I haven't passed notes to a girl I liked since grammar school." He mumbled only loud enough for her to hear. He cracked a slight smile as he read the contents of the note. "My apartment until two weeks, Scully...that's where I'm staying." he said, hoping she'd get the hint. For a moment, she looked confused, and then her face lit up in understanding as she realized what he was saying. <42 until...minus...two weeks...fourteen days...42 minus 14...28.> "Scully, the way I see it, we've got proof already. I know what Doggett and I saw on that oil rig, and I think the connection lies in my cell mate." "Manny?" Scully asked incredulously. Mulder nodded slowly in response. "They were using people who wouldn't know any better...and if they did know better, they'd need the job too badly to quit, and be willing to take the risk. The people on the oil rig were transporting alien oil...same as we saw inTungeska...the same oil that was being used in those planes in that airport in Scotland. Certain higherups were getting they're palms greased..." "No pun intended?" Scully interrupted. "Right..." he continued, "...anyway...the connection is that oil, and those workers...if we can get proof that Kersh and whoever else is connected get those stocks the boys and me found, then I'm home free." "There's something else I found out today. I found proof that the Admiral has been dealing with the Syndicate. They are the ones who adopted Jerilyn through a blackmarket adoption agency. Leo has been parading as a lawyer for the past two weeks. He was fired from his firm, and is connected to a bombing of a home in a residential neighborhood. Your old lawyer has been calling this one number quite a bit for a Cherry Lane apartments, and they've been increasing lately. When I leave here, I'm finding out who lives at that address." "Scully.." Mulder began hesitantly, "if this doesn't work out, and I..." "Mulder..it'll work..." she said firmly. *************************** Mulder was lead back to his jail cell, and with Manny oblivious to the world around him. He wasn't prepared for the possible scenerios that might unfold tomorrow. He envied Manny of his oblivion, and wished insomnia hadn't worked its spell. "Kid, I'd get some shut-eye if I were you, tomorrow's gonna be a helluva day." Al growled. He popped in, perched in the middle of the top bunk. At the unexpected sound, Mulder jumped out of his skin. "Al...tomorrow..." "I know kid, I heard." "Why is Starkweather coming?" "Because..." Al began, inhaling a puff of her cigar, "I think she knows as good as Sam, me, Scully and Doggett that you didn't do this." "You get anything from Doggett?" Mulder asked, raking his hand through his hair. "Nada. He went psycho on us earlier...the project psychologist said he kept screaming some cryptic shit about seeing his son...and some number. Beeks finally hadda..." "Walk-ins...Star-light..." "Don't tell me cryptic shit disorder's catchy?" "Walk-ins are souls trapped in some kinda limbo who try to help the living. They helped me find Samantha...Luke died suddenly and before his time. I think thirty-seven's gotta be tied to this somehow." "Well if he's trying to tell us something," Al grumbled, "I wish he'd give us some useful information...like who's gonna win the world series in 2012." "Check on Scully, will ya?" "Mulder, I wish I could...but I need to check in on Sam...I gotta update him on Puppy Man..." "Al...go check on her..." Mulder implored simply. "Mulder, Scully's a strong woman, she can take care of herself. Sam's at the mercy of Starkweather and the Gungeeks..." "They're harmless..." then, running his hand along his stitches, he decided to change the assessment, "well...she won't do anything with witnessess..." "I'm only one guy, kid..." Al began to protest, "I can't be in two places at once." "In my line of work...believe me...you can." Mulder deadpanned. Letting out a relenting grumble, Al flashed him a dirty look as he called out to Goushie. "Center me on Scully!" **Meanwhile...** Scully left the courthouse, and headed down the bypass on her way to the address she found for Cherry Lane apartments. Over and over again, she went through the evidence they found. Scully never saw the lawyer who was supposedly representing Mulder. She never knew what he looked like. Was it safe to assume that the man in the car getting the vile in the warehouse just the day before had been Leo? She wished that there was enough time to call Starkweather to find out what the Admiral told her. But there wasn't enough time to do two things at once at this point. She was approaching the neighborhood, and if the caller was involved at all in these operations, then it was an easy conclusion to arrive at that the caller would be on the move, and if that were the case, she needed to catch the caller out the door. Undetected, Al appeared instantly on Scully's passenger seat. "Where we goin' Scully?" He asked as if she could hear. She pulled into the apartment complex and counted down the doors till she came to the right address. He saw two cars, did a liscence plate check on both. There was one registered to a Sasha Antzen and to an Ana Sedai. As Scully made her way up the door Al followed, and as soon he caught sight of the door number, it hit him... Scully rang the doorbell to apartment 37C, shouting "Open up! This is the FBI!" **Where we last saw Scully, at Cherry Lane Apt.'s 37C** After repeatedly pounding on the door, she whipped out her gun and turned the safety off. Al, bug-eyed and anxiously jingling change in his pocket, gnawed nervously on his cigar. "Scully, I wouldn't go in there without back-up if I were you, sweetheart." he warned unheard, and a relieved smile spread across his face as he saw her slip the gun in her breast pocket and whip out her cell-phone lightening-quick. "'Atta girl! Going in there without back up is more along Spooky's line." She dialed Skinner's number, and as soon as she heard him grumble a barely comprehendable hello into the phone, without waiting for pleasantries, she began spatting instructions. "Sir, it's Scully. You want to know what's going on, I'll let you know as soon as you get to 37C Cherry Lane Apartments in Georgetown. I'm about to make an arrest, and I need back-up." She hung up, not waiting for a reply, and whipped her FBI-issued revolver out of her pocket reflex-quick. With the safety clicked off, she aimed at the doorknob, and with a bang, the lock shot open. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" she screamed, aiming her gun at shadows. "THIS IS THE FBI! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" "Who the hell is she?!" Al sputtered, wishing to God that he could be seen. What the fu--?" He stammered as he saw something darting between the hall way and the counter. "Oh, come on, Agent Scully!" Marita purred incredulously, emerging from the hallway. "You don't have to be so Goddamn melodramatic." If Scully was surprised to see her in the dark, modestly furnished living room, she gave no indication. Scully and the strange woman and the apartment began to flicker and fades like lights do when the electricity goes out. "Goushie! NO!! Keep me up as long as you can't! Dammit!! I dont' care whatchya gotta do, keep me here!" He hollared helplessly. "You are under arrest for conspiring to murder Benjamin Starkweather and Deputy Mayor Mulder, and interfering with police investigation." "I think you've been watching too many cop movies...you're acting like a fucking action hero" she sneared coolly. As he heard the two women spitting their fire, Justin Leo decided to take the opportunity to head for the door. Scully's attention was averted just then by movement in the shadows, but she kept her gun trained on her target. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of--who's there? Hey!" Scully demanded as Leo made a run for it towards the exit. He knew that if he stayed, Lilly would slip through his fingers like an abstract. Marita saw her opportunity and took it. "The cavalry isn't helping you now, sweetie." She sneered with a swift kick, knocking Scully's gun from her grip. "You bet your sweet ass they are Lucrezia Borgia." Al combatted as if Marita could hear. If it was at all possible, his eyes got even wider like a cartoon character, as Marita poised Scully's own fire arm at her. Scully swung at her, and dove for the gun, but Marita was quicker. Leo had moved from his shadow, and was now starring shit-faced and wide-eyed at Al. "He can see me! Holy Shit! He can see me!" Sputtered Al as he stared just as bewildered and white-faced, and consulted his hand-link. "Goushie, what the F*CK is going on here?!" He hollared helplessly into the air. "It's a gun, Leo, not a ghost." Marita said in his direction while her intent stare never diverted from Scully. "Now get out of here and do your job while I do mine." She snarled. Leo did her biding, and quickly bolted for the door. "You, honey," Al began "are a good argument for the people against the right to bare arms. Guns don't kill people. Psychochicks with a gun kill people." Al smirked. "Goushie! He hollared desperately, "try it again, center me on Sam! Pronto!" The womens' voices were crackling like radios and cell phones do when the frequencies are off, and with one last flicker, Al wasn't connected with the room anymore. "That's what I get for getting a nutcase to work for me, isn't it." Marita said with a smirk. "But he *is* effecient, so I think I'll keep him around." Scully saw the blue lights flickering in the window from the street below, and in an almost automatic action, she lunged at Marita, gripping for her arms first, in attempt to point upward. But without even aiming the gun steady, Marita fired when she saw the blue and red lights get more intense. Skinner heard the blast from inside, and rushed his crew inside apartment 37C. Scully didn't think she heard any kind of gunshot. She felt rust-warm and sticky substance on her FBI-approved navy blazer. The only thing she remembered was jerking back. She was dimly aware of footsteps coming up to the front door. She was aware that she was falling. And then she was aware of nothing more. ***************************************************** ...Meanwhile...Coffee is my Friend 24 hr CoffeeShop *************************************************** Justin Leo watched his step-sister leave. He understood her fears, and admonished himself for not sending them away before she threatened the restraining order. He really couldn't blame her. But, what could he do? He was too far in to get out now. The coffeeshop was near a college, and the owner had the foresight to install a few modem hook-ups. He booted up, logged on, and went into the UFO chatrooms, clinging to the faint hope of helping him find answers, and surfed UFO newsletters for possible clues. The hope that Marita Covarubias and her colleagues would help him find Lilly was slowly dimming. He whipped out his cellphone at it's abnoxious whirring beckon. "Leo." Marita hissed coldly, "you have a chance to redeem yourself after your last blunder." then calmly, "One last chance to get her back." Deciding it best to remain silent, he said nothing, waiting for her to continue, and nodded as if he could see him. "We have an emergency on our hands. I need you to drop all contact with the Deputy Mayor. I need you to get the serum and send the replicant to his cell tomorrow afternoon. Your the only one with the information to send the replicant to the correct location. We'll be so much closer to getting Lily back...and others..." her voice trailed off. Without a word, he hung up and logged off, leaving the coffee shop. After making sure Ana and Peter were safe, Leo finally went to the safehouse like he had been ordered to earlier that day. Marita was waiting for him. "You little bitch," Leo started to say, but Marita pointed a gun at him. "You have but one chance to redeem yourself Leo." She purred, coming closer to him, step by step until the gun barrel was shoved painfully into his chest. "Agent Starkweather is a problem we need solved. Now. Tonight." She turned the gun around and handed it to him. "And don't even think of turning it on me. It's not loaded. You'll need to get your own bullets." She handed him the manilla envelope> "Here's a better picture of her. The address is on the back. I want this done right. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong." She turned her back on him and left him alone. Leo, fuming, ripped open the envelope. He pulled out an 8x10 color glossy print of a photo of Starkweather from a survelliance shot. She was getting out of a white Dodge Dynasty that had obviously seen better days, one hand still on the wheel as she looked off to the right at something. Her hair was bundled on top of her head in a heavy-looking bun. She wore a nice black suit and a blue silk blouse, with a blue and silver scarf knotted at her neck. Leo dropped the photograph, exhaling. The hair color and the eye color was wrong, of course but the face... "**Lily**" he gasped. 7:42 pm Cherry Lane Apts. ***************** Marita knew that Justin Leo was not fooling himself. He worked for her and the rest of the consortium for one reason, and one reason only: to find someone he lost. He always held the false illusion that the tasks he performed were find Lilly--that he was on a quest. Marita banked upon that mistake and allowed him to keep the illusion. After all, as long as he prooved useful to her, what was the harm in allowing him to think that that poor dumb girl was still alive? He pined after Lilly, and allowed himself to believe that he was performing his tasks to find her. His quest was under false pretenses though; only brave men go on quests. She was beginning to discover however, that a Luke Skywalker costume was hard to fit on Chewbacca. She knew that Davis Justin Leo possessed absolutely no balls...and for that quality, she kept him at her heels. Cowards are easily intimidated and very gullible. She knew this, and used it to the Ultimate Advantage. There were still too many things standing in the way of the Ultimate Advantage. She knew that those things would have to be illiminated. The first steps were taken already, but until the Smoking F*cker was out of the picture, she knew that these steps wouldn't be taken. Under her careful supervision, the syndicate was finally gaining a stronger hold, and more paranormal cases were brought to the FBI's attention. Careful strategizing went into placing the Starkweathers in the Nation's capital, and careful strategizing went into expelling Mulder from the FBI. With the truth revealed about his sister, Marita and CSM were both delightedly surprised he chose to stay in the FBI; but admittedly, it was the dumb luck of Vietnam that landed Mulder at City Hall. His abduction was not, however, part of the plan; nor was his death. The syndicated HAD been participating in abduction conspiracies for years. Lilly and Samantha were both planned to be taken at different times as part of a contract made under Spender. The best she and Krycek could determine when the news reached them was that Mulder's disappearance had been the work of the alien rebels. The Ultimate Advantage now was to find out exactly what the alien rebels were fighting against, and how to negotiate with both. Marita knew that by controlling Billy Miles she was getting close to the Ultimate Advantage. Giving Dana Scully and Fox Mulder the Truth behind Jerilyn Bailey Starkweather was done because she also knew that if Agents Scully and Mulder and the rest of the members of the x-files and their cohorts had a distraction, then it would take them off their gaurds and allow Mr. Leo to perform his tasks and her Syndicate time to take control of the situation. Ben Starkweather and Justin Leo had one very crucial commonality: they both lacked any ounce of courage, but they needed to believe that they strove to do the Right Thing...and that false belief drove their very Existances. She knew that this tendency would be the convincing factor in proving them useful to the Ultimate Advantage. There was a swift knock at her door. The old man drew a long puff of his cigarette when Marita opened it. "You are a fool if you think the Truth is a good distraction for Agent Scully." He told her. "Against your advice, Ms. Covarubias, I have set Mr. Miles in motion." "Then we risk finding what we need to know. They can help us." She insisted "It is too late. It has been done." "Then you are the fool," she hissed. "Because any stronghold we had is going to be lost now. The lie will be gone!" "You should watch yourself, Marita." The old man purred. "The lie is about to explode. But I wouldn't disappear. You and your handyman will be usefull in the near future. We might be lucky. They might crack. We might survive." "You can only threaten me with *might*...not with *MIGHTS* you BASTARD!" She exploded, and an with an emphatic BANG slammed the door in his face, not carring that it was the most immature reaction she could have to his maddening words. More importantly, it proved to him that she was loosing her control...but she had to admit, it was theraputic. She ran to the closet where her suitcase gathered dust, and against his advice, began to pack it. With Scully's urgent call moments before, Skinner called reinforcements as quickly as he could, confident in his agent's ability to keep the situation under control. He had no doubt in his mind that her ability to do that alone had saved both the x-files and Mulder's life too many times to count. If Scully was calling for back-up, he was sure this whole matter was going to be resolved, and for that he was relieved. It wouldn't be long now before the x-files could get as back to normal as the x-files got. He turned into the neighborhood the apartment complex was in, and the shrill ring of the cell phone broke his concentration on the route to the apartment. He wouldn't have taken the call at a time like this normally, but his CLD told him that it was from Starkweather's father. "Look, I don't have a whole lot of time on my hands, so unless this is urgent, I don't want to hear it." He would have barked if it hadn't been someone so important. "A.D. Skin-man" the Admiral slurred, chuckling at himself. Skinner was not amused. "Skin-man! Damn if um gooohaaana miss that Mulder guy. I'm tooaaaaaaaaaaaatally PLAHASTERED! I'm having trouble---hehehehe---getting my Lipttttths to wohk wissttth mah mouth." He bursted out into fits of laughter that transformed into sobs. "Look, Admiral, I dont' have time for this, I'm in a very tight situation here, so if you don't mind, please walk it- -" "Shhhhstshkin-mannnner, I sthing sthish Mahahahrita chickah issth um gonna send Billy the Kid...Heheheheheeheee! Billy the KID!! On the DM!" Then he burst into laughter which evolved again into tears. "Oh hell." Skinner finally said after a short pause while the inebriated man's sobs dwindled. "Can you tell me how you know this?" "Sttthhhe said she wouulhuhuhuhuhud" He sobbed. "Admiral? Admi- from the silence on the other end, Skinner was sure that the man had drowned into oblivion, and was grateful. He pulled up to the apartment behind the half-dozen squad cars, wondering how much of this information Scully already knew, and wondering who lived in this apartment. Instinct told him it was someone from the syndicate, or someone who affiliated themselves with a new ring. Either way, the suspect was someone who didn't miss their target. Skinner climbed out of his car as one of the feds approached him warily. "Sir, we've searched the premises for the suspect and there was none. A shot was fired, and we went ahead. Your agent didn't have her service weapon in her possession when we found her." "Did you question the landlord?" He was not ready to deal with the darkest possibilities yet. For now, he needed to get his job done. "A woman by the name of Sasha Krycek lived here with her grandfather according to the landlord." Was the man's quick reply. Meanwhile, inside the apartment, once Scully was no longer a force to be reckoned with, Marita knew that this was the opportunity to flee. Abandoning her suitcase but arming herself with the service weapon, she made her way down the fire escape with the grace and speed of a gazelle. Scully was first aware of the coppery smell of her own drying blood. Then a massive headache coupled with the dull ache in her left side screamed at her nervous system back into full alertness. Seconds later brought footsteps up the stairs and a band of uniformed officers. Realizing with a sigh of relief that the bullet had only glazed her abdomen. Clutching it when she saw the officers approach her, she applied pressure on the table, and managed to struggle to a sitting position. Skinner soon followed with a concerned and relieved expression taking over his normally stone-stern features, he made sure that the EMS had, in fact, been called. "Scully, I wish you had told me sooner what was going on, I would have sent back-up long ago and this would have never happened," he scolded more like a parent than a boss. "Sir, Marita was here. I tried to arrest her, but she got the gun away from me and fired my gun and escaped." Skinner's expression turned from relieved to sh*t-faced. "God...Scully...I wasn't going to let you bury Mulder again...but if what the Admiral said was true..." "What did the Admiral say?" Scully demanded as the EMT tech took her pulse. Skinner couldn't bring himself to admit to her his conclusion. Meanwhile, back in the future ***************************** Back in the waiting room, while Al was with Sam and Starkweather in his time, Doggett was going stir crazy in a time and body that was not his own. He hated being ordered. He hated not being able to do anything about the situation back in his own time. He hated seeing a stranger's face in reflections, and hearing another man's voice come from his mouth. He was angry and trapped, and of course those feelings manifested themselves as a jack-ass, making him lash out at anyone in arm's reach. He surprised himself when he didn't punch the Italian Seaman back. He hated not being there for either Scully or Starkweather. When he was assigned to Scully's department, he made a promise to her to watch her back and to find Mulder. He was about to break both of those promises. He'd already broke one of them once. He knew he earned his trust after two years of partnership, but unless something was about to change drastically, it looked as though all that trust was about to be shot out of the water. Not that her trust mattered if she was going to be killed, he thought, exhaling in rage. Jerilyn Starkweather was a different matter altogether. Doggett felt a need to protect Scully, but something seered much deeper for Doc. Somehow, he felt a bond that hadn't even been there with the former Mrs. Doggett. He knew both of them must be going through a Hell worse than he was at the moment, but all the same he just couldn't stand around and wait for disaster to strike. He had abandoned both of them, and wanted to get back. But to return, he had to believe that this was possible. That this was real. That this wasn't a nightmare, a cruel joke, a neat party trick, a hallucination, or something in between. Part of him wished fervently that this was possible. If time-travel was possible, then there existed a slight chance that someone could go back in time and stop the death of Luke, who would have been 13 three days ago...or was it fifteen years and three days ago? That was becoming more and more arbitrary to Doggett. The only time reference that mattered to him now was how much time remained until disaster struck. The catch of the century was that if time travel *was* possible, then that meant that Luke could have been saved. There was something he could have done to prevent his son's horrible murder. That wasn't something he was prepared to believe. That wasn't something he was prepared to understand. That wasn't a road he wanted to go down. Doggett let out a ragged sigh; one more time he half- heartedly studied the police photos Admiral Calivici had left with him. Clinging to the possibility that maybe *this* time something would reveal itself that hadn't come to light before. Doggett wasn't aware of falling asleep. The almost- arbitrary time had gone undetected, but in his next conscious moment, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, blinking in disblief. "Calivici!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, not taking his eyes off of the sight before him. "What the F*CK is going on here. What the HELL IS THIS!? DAMMIT I..." "Agent Doggett..." Verbeena came in, eyes widening in puzzlement. "Where's Calavici." "In the imaging chamber." "Did he have anything to do with this?" He managed to stammer, pointing a finger at what Verbeena Beeks couldn't see. "What--*this*--exactly are you referring to. Agent Doggett... John...I assure you we are not a part of what you are upset about." Dr. Beeks had never experienced a reaction like this from Leapers before. The image of an illuminated toweheaded little boy with piercing blue eyes appeared to be unalarmed by his outbursts. Doggett thought he heard the boy saying "Daddy." He was mouthing *thirty-seven* over and over again. Then the boy was gone. "Thirty seven...thirty seven...God dammit! Thirty-seven WHAT?!?! THIRTY SEVEN *WHAT* LUKE?!!!!" Verbeena ordered the nurses to prepare a sedative. Tacoma Park Falls LGM Lair ************* Langly got off the phone with Starkweather and finished his game of Starcraft. Of course he was going to help her. She knew where he lived. She got Byers to confess his virginity. She had a gun and knew how to use it. "You gotta love a girl who knows how to put a guy in a death grip." He said with a sigh. But there was one thing he had to do before he began. He logged on and pulled up his playlist. As much as he loved Megadeth and The Rolling Stones and Hendrix, it was time for some new stuff. "Frohike!" He hollared "What the hell is Elvis doing on my playlist!" "Blame it on Mulder." Frohike grumbled back. He was busily pecking away. Langley leaned over his shoulder. "Since when are you a fourteen year-old girl, DanasRomeo?" "Since I logged on." Frohike replied. "That is just plain SICK, man." Langley said, turning back to his computer and pulling up his favorite MP3 site. "Not as sick as having a crush on Mulder's SISTER." Frohike retorted. "I do NOT have a crush on Starkweather!" Langley pouted. "Deny, deny, deny...but it's as plain as the ridiculous glasses on your face." Frohike refuted, not even glancing up from his screen. "That does not even dignify a response!" Langley answered and went onto the Kazaa website, typed a search for Metallica, not because he actually liked their music, and spitefully right-clicked every song on the list. "Get jiggy with THAT Lars Ulrich" he muttered and waited for each song that snuck its way into that search. The song began to play, and Langley and Frohike both exchanged confused glances. "Since when did Lars Ulrich play the trumpet?" Langley wondered. I want a girl with a mind like a diamond I want a girl who knows what's best I want a girl with shoes that cut and eyes that burn like cigarettes I want a girl with bright allocations who's fast and thorough and sharp as a tack she's playing with her jewelry she's putting up her hair she's touring the facilities and picking up slack I want a girl with a short skirt and a loooooooong jacket I want a girl who gets up early I want a girl who stays up late I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity who uses a machete to cut through red tape With fingernails that shine like justice and a voice that is dark like tinted glass she is fast thorough and sharp as a tack she is touring the facility and picking up slack I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooonnng long jacket I want a girl with the smooth liquidations I want a girl with good...dividends At city bank we will meet accidentally We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen She wants a car with a cup holder armrest She wants a car that will get her there she's changing her name from Kitty to Karen She's trading her MG for a White Chrysler LaBarren I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooooooooooong jacket "She's got great dividends." Frohike said dryly. "You think Lars Ulrich knew Starkweather?" "I don't know what the fuck that was...but sure as shit wasn't Metallica." "Sometimes people don't do their homework when they upload these files." Byers said, coming in the lair. "According to those idiots, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" from the Armageddon soundtrack was recorded by Bjork and Jewel. "What ever happened to the days when bands had normal names...like They Might Be Giants..." "...and The Who, and The Kinks?" Frohike finished. En route to Justin Leo's Starkweather kept her eyes on the road, darting around cars, zipping around semis. "Get out of my way," she muttered to a large 1977 puke-orange Chrysler Landau that just boxed her in. "I'm gonna miss my exit," she snarled, fuming. "God dammit all." "Starkweather," Sam said patiently as Al sat quietly in the backseat, sweating. "Slow down." "I'm only doing 65." "No, I mean slow down your thinking. You're going off like a bat out of hell on a hunch. That's a little too..." Sam grimaced. "Mulder-like for my taste." "That's not even funny, even by your redneck standards." "Why Leo? If I'm going to get dirty with you, I need to know why." Starkweather sighed. "I wish I would have thought of it sooner, it would have saved everyone a bunch a grief, Mulder and Scully especially. But y'know when you're suddenly widowed, things have a tendency to slip your mind. I could just kick myself Doggett. You were right, Mulder IS getting set up, possibly to go to prison, but more likely to be killed and it's because I had my head up my butt." "What are you remembering?" Starkweather sighed with relief as she passed the Chrysler and floored it, going 80 mph now. "Before all this shit went down, you know how I stopped by your house a few days ago to drop off a copy of the Scotland file you wanted to look over? And I told you how Ben and I were going to go to Hooters to celebrate him getting his new job and his first solo case?" "Hooters?" "Yeah, I know... real classy... anyway, the beer started flowing and people stop talking and start gossiping....." ********************** A few days back Hooters Bar and Resturant Ben found his new friends quickly, they had rock-star seating in front of the big screen TV. Ben introduced Jerilyn to everyone as his "big, bad FBI broad," which broke the ice immediately. Jerilyn was relieved to see a lot of the lawyers had brought girlfriends and wives. Soon, the beer was flowing and Jerilyn found herself laughing along with everyone else, feeling for the first time in a long long time, like a normal woman. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar dark- haired, hazel puppy-dogged eyed man, so slowly, she swiveled her head around and sure enough, there was the Deputy Mayor, watching the game with some of his City Hall cronies. He grinned at her and Starkweather forced herself to smile back and, as politely as possible, turn her attention back to the game. she grumbled to herself as she sipped her beer. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that the 'son-of-a- bitch' was growing on her. She couldn't explain it, didn't even try to explain it Ben, to Doggett, to anyone, but she felt like she knew him from somewhere before. Perhaps in a different lifetime, but, even though she still personally didn't care for him but was slowly learning to accept his assistance and advice... whenever she was in his presence, she felt a strong aura of... She couldn't figure out why that word kept popping into her head. She took Ben's hand and tried to enjoy the rest of the night. Several beers later, Jerilyn finally managed to forget about the existence of Mulder and got drawn into petty scandals that plague every business and occupation. J. Stephen Cello III, recently promoted to the status of "partner" at Carter, Spangle and Adam, ordered another round plus another plate of raw oysters on the half shell, turned to Margot Marie Rogeux-Brandybuck, the lone female lawyer present, and said "Hey Meg, psycho-boy finally got canned." "I thought he was fired a long time ago?" Meg said after she downed her beer in one big chug. Her name was prettier and bigger than she was, but her personality made up for lack of looks. She could also outdrink almost all of her male co-workers, which was amazing since she was more petite than Starkweather or Scully even. She was also as lethal as arsenic in the legal arena. "Did you order me another beer, Steve?" She lit a cigarette and offered one to Ben, which he accepted. Steve, meanwhile was so devastatingly handsome, he could make women forget the existence of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. When Ben introduced him to her, Jerilyn had a huge "Damn, I'm married" moment when she looked into his dazzling green eyes and perfectly white smile. "You doubt me?" He said mockingly. "No, I mean, it's official. Jessy Spangle herself told me they officially terminated him today." Jerilyn had a pretty good buzz going, feeling like a wimp next to Meg and Ben was feeling no pain. She devoutly hoped he remembered that they had taken the motorcycle out and she was in no shape to drive them home on it. She shrugged it off. There was a Motel 6 within staggering distance. A devillish little smile played on her lips. <> Ben broke into her impure thoughts. "Wait, guys, I'm lost. Who's psycho boy? I don't think I've met him..... You weren't missing anything," a voice drawled from further up the table. Snickering was abound. Ben, who loved gossip worse than a old woman, persisted. "So what's the story with Pyscho-Boy?" Meg took a long pull on her newest beer before she started. "Young kid, fresh outta school. Jessy and Lisa (as in Lisa MacKenna Carter, daughter of the decreased law firm founder, Malachy Carter, second in line after senior partner Jessy Spangle) were recruiting him hardcore. Finished first in his class in his undergrad years at Purdue in Indiana, fucking second out of everybody at his class at Harvard Law. We get him here and he's doing crackerjack good. Nailed his first two cases, got a sweet out of court settlement on his third. Was making the firm not just good money, but real money. Then after awhile, I don't know. He got weird on us." "Define weird," Ben asked. Meg and Steve looked at each other, then looked at Jerilyn. "Well... we don't want to offend anyone, especially you, Jeri," Steve said, giving her a smile that made Mrs. Starkweather want to melt at his feet. <> she told herself as she leaned her head, spinning just slightly from all the beer, onto Ben's shoulder. "It takes a lot to offend me, Steve," she said, snuggling into Ben. "Well, I gathered that... but Ben told us that you've had the dubious honor of being assigned to the X-Files Division at the Bureau and we've all heard stories about your predecessor, Special Agent Mulder." "That's Deputy Mayor Mulder, if you please," Meg said, lighting another cigarette. "How the hell did he get THAT job?" <> Jerilyn thought with a groan as she said "I heard the stories too and a lot of it is just that. Stories. Really, the X-Files just checks into shitty crimes that normal feds can't explain away. We're the IRS of the paranormal. We audit these claims of strange happening to see if there's for real or not and a lot of times they're not... but the times they are... damn, watch your step, the first one's a lu-lu." There was chuckling abound, but then Meg asked. "So do you believe in that stuff? UFOs and whatnot?" Jerilyn thought carefully. She knew she was drunk, so she made herself speak slowly. She did not want to spew out: <> "Oh, I don't know. With an universe as big as ours, its illogical to even pretend that other life cannot exist out there, but on the other side, the only aliens I've seen for sure are on the movie screen." Jerilyn shrugged. "I have an open-mind, but not so open that my brains will fall out." "Well, that's what happened to Leo. His head opened up and his brains plopped out onto the floor," Steve said before he sucked down an oyster. "Damn shame. A damn shame." "Leo?" Ben asked. "Who's Leo?" "Justin Leo. Psycho Boy." Steve devoured another oyster. "About four months ago, he just came unglued. Guess he had some girlfriend, a high school sweetheart that was abducted and he had never been able to deal with the truth of what happened." "Which was?" Ben asked. "According to police reports, the kids were on a date, she wandered off into the woods and was never seen again. Leo swore up and down that she was abducted. By aliens. And he saw them take her. He must of realized that he sounded less than sane because he never spoke of it again. But he started messing up at work. Missed a few court dates, was put on probation by Spangle. Didn't show up for work a few days, kept calling in sick, got put on Short Term Disability and Lisa suggested he get some professional help. Came into work a few weeks later, and this was right before you started, Ben. Like literally days before you and Jerilyn moved down here and even interviewed with us." Steve helped himself to yet another oyster. "Want one?" he gestured to the plate. Ben and Jeri both shook their heads. "He came into work," Steve went on, happy that he could have all the raw oysters to himself, "and it was so obvious that he hadn't slept at all. He looked like shit and he was co-representing a big, big client with me, or well, was supposed to. I had called him just a few days before that to see if he got the notes and files I sent him and if he had his shit in gear and he said yes, he was ready to rock and roll, so I left it at that, but when I saw him stagger into the office..." Steve shook his head. "And I felt bad what I did, but if I told you how many hours I logged into that case and how much I stood to gain, not just my salary, but what I was going to be bringing into CS & A, you would piss yourselves." "Was he drunk?" Jerilyn asked, appalled at such unprofessional behavior. She had done somethings on the job that she regretted wholeheartedly, but she had never gone into work under the influence. "No, just sleep deprived. So I pulled him aside because, well, we weren't the best of friends, but we were bar buddies and we used to play squash together on a regular basis before he flipped out on us. But I think I was the closest thing to a friend that he had at that point so I asked him what was wrong with him and did he realize how close Jess and Lis were to firing him. And he told me that he had been moonlighting for a secret agency that would help him get his high school sweetheart back. He told me crazy shit no self respecting lawyer would do. We get such a bad rap about being money-grubbing and corrupt and all it takes is one bad lawyer to make those of us who try and follow our code of ethics look really bad. Plus, he was making Carter, Spangle and Adams look bad. He had dirty deals going all over the place. I can't even imagine some of the crap he's pulled, judges in his pocket, taking payoffs, bending tax laws for businesses we wouldn't even touch- "Why not?" Jerilyn asked. "Because we believe they're not businesses at all but fronts for illegal operations. I was disgusted. So..." here he sighed. "I knew I was going to destroy his career, but dammit, I was not going to have my firm get pulled into an investigation for one little pissant crook, no matter how smart he was. Especially after I was just made partner. So... I went to Levi (Levi Adams, the third and last living founder of the law firm, technically in retirement since he was nearing eighty, but still owned the firm and still came into the office to offer advice, except when the weather was good for golfing) and told him what was up, what Psycho Boy told me and you know what? That old man can move **fast** when he gets a burr up his butt. Tracked Leo down, told him in no uncertain terms that he's suspended without pay or benefits until further notice, his contract will be reviewed by the senior partners and he will recommend an investigation and an disbarment hearing. Nobody had seen him since. I had lunch with Jessy today and she told him that Psycho Boy had been officially terminated as of today and Lisa is starting a quiet, low key investigation of him." "What a nut job," was all Ben had to say before the next bit of tittle-tattle popped up. "Speaking of nut jobs, have you ever heard of a guy named...." *********************************** Back in Starkweather's car Starkweather shook her head. "So, you see, nobody hears from Leo and all of a sudden, he's representing Mulder? For the murder of a lawyer from Carter, Spangle and Adams? Leo must have done a good job keeping it quiet because if CS & A knew he was practising law again, they'd be all over him like a cheap suit. ESPECIALLY if it is to defend the man who is suspected of killing one of their own. And CS & A love Ben's ass. I know that for sure." "So what are you going to do when you get to Leo's?" Sam asked. "Get Ben's lighter back." "Starkweather, pull over," Sam said. "Sorry, but you should have gone before we left." "Starkweather, I am serious. Pull over... there, the next rest stop. We need to talk before we do this." "Talk about what?" "The fact that if Mulder is being targeted, that may very well mean that Scully's being targeted, Skinner's being targeted, Reyes, myself, you... we can't just go storming into Leo's like... like... an action hero. We need to think this out, what to do. How to help Mulder. Because if you get yourself killed, that won't help any of us." Sam looked at Al out of the corner of his eyes. Al looked down at his com-link, looked back up at Sam and smiled, nodding his head. He had good news. Starkweather sighed. "I'm going to use the little girl's room then," she muttered. "I'll be back." The minute she disappeared into the women's room, Sam turned around, "Al?" "Starkweather's going to be okay. She avoids Leo, who was sent out to kill her. Leo gets busted breaking into her apartment by an off-duty cop who lives across the hall, so he's going to be out of the picture for a little while. So, she's going to be fine for a little bit." Sam breathed a long sigh of relief. "Don't get too comfortable Sam, Mulder's still in trouble. The X-Files still gets shut down and all the X-Filers get picked off one by one, Starkweather included." "What do we have to do, Al?" Sam demanded. Al shook his head. "We gotta get Mulder outta that cell. And we gotta get Benny-Boy outta harm's way." "Oh boy..." Sam muttered. "Wonder who I can call on to plan a prison break?" Al hestitated, then said, "Well..." Sam read his mind. "NO." "Sam." "NO." "Sa---AMMMM..." "I have no choice?" "Not at this late in the game." Sam pursed his lips and slid over into the driver's seat just as Starkweather came back. "What are you doing?" "Get in," he said. "We're going for a ride." "Where to?" "The Lone Gunmen." "OH GAWD....." she bitched heartily but she got in and let Sam-in-Doggett drive The LGM's Lair 9:00 PM, Twenty-one hours away from Mulder's predicted death Sam had wasted precious time getting lost. For the life of him, he could not remember how to get to the Lone Gunmen's lair, since the first and last time he was there, Mulder had driven. Al had left much earlier, mumbling something or other about checking in on Scully. Starkweather had never been to the infamous Lair before and asked him several times, "Are you sure you know where you're going?" But at straight up nine o'clock Sam finally pulled into the dirt parking lot in front of the warehouse the Gunmen had commandeered. Sam and Starkweather got out of the car. "Where's the door?" she asked as she followed Sam around the building. "Here it is," Sam knocked on the heavy metal door, blended in with the rest of the rusted-out building. "Ow!" He shook his hand after pounding on the door. "See... this is what's cool about metal-toed boots," Starkweather gave the door a few swift kicks. The peephole slid open and Langley's nasally voice was heard, "Oh, it's you," he said disparagingly to Sam-in- Doggett. Starkweather reached through the peephole and poked Langly in the face hard. "Let us in, Blonde-O." "OW!! CRIPES!!" Langley hollared as he backed away. Shortly after, the door itself opened. Langley stood there, rubbing his face Sam decided to take control of the situation. "Look, all of that aside, we need your help." "With what?" Byers had just come out of the bathroom. "Mulder is in trouble-" Sam started. "No shit," Langley interjected. "I have reason to believe that he could very well be killed tomorrow." "That's not good," Frohike stated the obvious. "Especially since he probably used up his last of his nine lives," Langley added, going to the mini-fridge to see if there was any ice. He could feel his face swelling up from where Starkweather had poked him. "We need to get him out of that cell," Sam said. Everyone stopped what they were doing. "Doggett, you are NOT suggesting a prison break!" Starkweather gasped. "Starkweather, you said yourself that the game just got dirty." "Well, I KNOW... but, god, Doggett... our careers... and Mulder? What are we going to do with him? Let him go on the lamb? What about Scully and the baby? And what if we're wrong? We don't have a shred of physical evidence of either guilt or innocence and we get him out and-" "Mulder's NOT a killer," Frohike interupted staunchly. "I'm in." "I don't believe that he's a killer either, not anymore, but if we don't have sufficient proof that he's innocent, we could ALL go to jail for a very long time. And I look terrible in orange." Starkweather defended her stance. "We need to go through the proper channels. We need to find Leo-" "Starkweather, I'd hate to interrupt," Sam said, "but you weren't exactly thinking about going through proper channels when we were about to go after Leo tonight." Starkweather scowled. "I wasn't thinking clearly and you set me straight. But there's a difference between misdemeanor assault and a felony offense. Mulder IS in trouble, but let's get him out of the county lock-up, get him into solitary at a secured location and lets work the legal system. We're FBI agents, not the fucking A-Team." "I LOVE that show!!!" Langley said. "I'm in!" "Starkweather," Sam said patiently as he felt her hazel eyes bore into him. "There isn't time to play by the rules anymore. We need to get Mulder out now. Tonight preferably." "Tonight's no good," Frohike said, who had switched computers while his was downloading information from CS & A. "County doesn't have the best security system in the world, but still, it's pretty intricate. We could probably have their systems crash by tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon by the latest." Starkweather was totally ignoring Frohike's speech. "What proof do you have Doggett? That Mulder's in this much danger that there's no other alternative?" Sam thought fast. "The house explosion. If these people can blow up a house of an innocent woman... who's to say who's next? Plus we need Mulder. We need him to find out what really happened to Ben. I have trouble believing the body they pulled out of the river is really him," he HAD to get her to trust him. "There's a chance that Ben could still be alive." Starkweather sadly dug something out of her pocket. "This IS his wedding ring though." She held the golden band up for him to see. "But Doc," Sam said, "if you saw Leo holding Ben's lighter, who's to say they didn't take other things from him?" Starkweather thought carefully of the "hallucinations" she had been having lately. "Do you think there's really a chance that's true?" she said in a voice that wanted to hope. "I do, I really do," Sam said, longing to reach out and hold her tight but instead just taking her hand that held Ben's ring. "I really believe you're going to see Ben again to put that ring back where it belongs." Starkweather's eyes got all bright as if she was about to cry, but she was fully aware of the three spectators around her. "WHAT???" she snapped at them. She put the ring back in her pocket and pursed her lips. "Alright, how are we going to get the cocksucker out of jail?" she asked the Lone Gunmen Meanwhile...back in the future... ************************************ Dr. Beeks felt sorry for the man falling under the forged spell of the sedative, but she was really left with no choice. In the agitated state brought on by undoubtedly heightened psychological stress, the leapee was acting irrationally and would possibly do more damage that the already ridiculously-tight project budget could stand. The Admiral would undoubtedly give her a mouthful when he returned from the chamber to check on the situation on the slight chance that Doggett could provide anymore useful information, but there was little she could do. Her hands were tied and Doggett slipped into unconsciousness, mumbling something to her about finding the Admiral for him and finding out about 37... In Doggett's next conscious moment, he found himself climbing out of Mulder's car in a driveway of a modest home with his own name in blockletters sternly propped on the mailbox. He reached down for his clipper when he saw his truck was in the driveway. Passing the rearview mirror, he paused and ran his hands over the peppering hair and more obvious crowesfeet, but that wasn't what unnerved him. What made him stop in his tracks was his own reflection starring back at him. His pulse raced as he touched the hood. "Who the hell was driving the truck?" Doggett murmured as he ran as stealthily as possible into the house. He whipped out his cell. "Mulder, I need you back over here, something's up." Without a word, he tucked the cell back in his pocket and burst open the door, wielding his gun. "What the hell did you do with Doggett?" Starkweather, obviously fifteen years older, was demanding a stranger. Starkweather gave him an imploring glance, and Doggett ran upstairs. A fair-haired little girl with his eyes met him in the hallway. He got down on a knee so he could be eye- level with the little girl. "Daddy, Mommy isn't going to hurt that man in the kitchen is she?" She said, running up to him and putting her arms around his neck. Doggett somehow accepted this as a perfectly natural thing. "He said he was bringing you here, but Mommy looked scared when he came in the house. I don't think he is here to hurt anybody." "What's his name?" "Sam." "Well, I better make sure your Mommy and *Sam* aren't going to mess up the kitchen. You go play in your room, okay?" "Okay daddy." She chirped and planted a kiss on his cheek. He went into the kitchen, where Starkweather was still welding a gun at Sam. In the next few minutes, Doggett saw Mulder pull into the driveway and come into the house, bursting through the door. "Sam?!" Mulder sputtered. The man nodded. "You know this creep?" demanded Starkweather, not taking her eyes off the man. Earlier that evening Cello Residence ******************* With a heavy sigh, J. Steven Cello III plopped down his briefcase in the hallway and slung his coat haphazardly over an easy chair. The female members of is law firm often marveled at how a man with Rock Hudsonesque looks, Roman numerals behind his name, a successful career, and a 1956 red Porsche convertible stayed single as long as he did. Steve went for the freezer and got out what Ben had called once the Bachelor's Special, then went to the fridge for a Heineken, took a long sip and set the microwave for his frozen dinner. "Hey, Steve, did you see the news tonight?" "No, all I pay attention to is how the ball falls, how the rain falls, how the market falls, and how the gavel falls, and that I can get online. The news is too goddamn depressing." Steve grumbled back, taking a cardboardish mouthful of his unevenly heated chicken. "Well...turn to channel seven, will ya. It's depressing...but you sound like you could use a good car wreck to watch." "If you're just joining us we're at the site of an explosion that happened right here behind me. Earlier this evening this lot behind me had a house in it. Luckily, all occupants have survived, no one has been hurt, but questions remain about the origins of the explosions." "I saw Psycho Boy in a clip earlier and did some quick checking. Turns out that the house belonged to Ana and Harry Sedai...his step-sister." "Well, if that don't put the vodka in the jello shooters." He whistled. "You wanna hear something else?" Meg egged on Steve nodded his head as if she could see him. "I did some more digging and get this...the little rat has been cherading as one of our lawyers and according to your good friend and mine, the DA, said that she got the impression Leo was just going through a song and dance, and the DM's bail was set through the roof." "I can't believe that little shit!" He muttered. "I tell you what," he offered, "you fax those police reports to me and I'll do your homework for ya. You take the rest of the night off." "I appreciate that, Steve. The police reports are fucking captivating. They read like some goddamn lawyer novel." "That's why I love this job, Megaparsec! I'll see ya tomorrow." He said and hung up. He booted up his computer, and pushed play on his stereo. "Phantom of the Opera" blasted through the house as he went to the court TV website. Back at the LGM Lair Sam was hovering over Frohike's shoulder. Byers and Langley were gone, sent on errands such as gassing up the Lone Gunmanmobile, filling a prescription for a sedative that Dr. Starkweather wrote out, buying supplies like bullets, batteries, beer, pizzas, a hat, a pair of reading glasses, theatrical makeup and a pair of ladies shorts and a tank top and to get Ben's motorcycle from the Starkweathers' garage. Starkweather was sitting by herself in the corner, cleaning her guns and Doggett's as well. "Okay, here's the scoop," Frohike said, pointing at MapQwest on the screen. "Here's where me and the calvary will be operating. Once you and Freezie Queenie over there- " Starkweather shot him a dirty look, but Frohike ignored her "-get Mulder out, we'll roundaview two blocks south of lockup. You and Starkweather go together but don't take her piece of shit car and don't take your truck. Hopefully, we'll have the surveillance equipment so screwed up and you guys will have the main guard so drugged up, they wouldn't be able to pin it on you. But you guys gotta move fast. Once we do our kung-fu on their systems, we've got a window of twenty-five minutes." "That's not a lot of time," Starkweather said, extremely concerned. She had just finished up Doggett's side arm and had started working on her little Baretta she liked to wear in her ankle holster. Just then, her cell phone went off. "Agent Starkweather." "Starkweather, it's AD Skinner. I'm very concerned for you- " Starkweather half-expected him to call her "young lady." "I know sir, and I'm sorry, but can I call you back? Thanks." She hung up on him before he even gave her his consent. Best to leave the AD out of the loop as far as illegal activities go. June 19, 2002 The Lone Gunmen's Lair 11:00 AM Six hours away from Mulder's projected death Everyone started to move around nine-thirty. Starkweather took over the bathroom first and the "boys" (Sam included) waiting with impatient feet and full bladders for her to get out. Finally, Frohike declared, "Dammit, I'm a man. I'm going to find a bush," and stalked out while Starkweather finished her shower. She came out, hair wet, wearing the tight white tank top and cargo shorts that Langley had bought for her last night. "Little short, Langley," she grumbled at him as she walked by, showing a little more leg and thigh than she was used to. Langly only grinned like an idiot and went about his work humming "I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng jacket." Starkweather had flashed him a dirty look as she parted her damp hair and started to plait it into one thick braid. As she fixed her hair, Sam dove into the bathroom and washed up, putting on one of Byers' suits. Byers himself had left to get food. He came out to find Starkweather with a Swiss Miss hairdo, pushing hairpins into her scalp while Langley watched in awe. "Dude, she looks like Princess Leia in 'Empire Strikes Back'!" "Oh shut up," both Starkweather and Frohike snapped. "Sit down, Doggie," Frohike ordered him gruffly. Sam did and let Frohike unbutton his shirt. "Kinky," Starkweather purred as she patted the braids around her head. "Careful, Mulder'll get jealous," Langley said as he started to pack up his gear. "Stick your head into a bucket of Chlorox," Frohike snarled as he taped the microphone to Doggett's chest. "Now this is plastic," Frohike lectured him, "so the sound quality ain't that great, but you won't be setting off any metal detectors. So you gotta speak up good and loud, but not too loud." Sam buttoned up his shirt as Frohike went to get the earpiece. "This cell phone," he held up a Nokia 5100 model "is a fake, don't bother trying to call us on it. It's camouflage for this," He held up an ear piece. "See, the cord can become detached," He demonstrated then put the cord back into the earpiece and connected the cord to the phone, "and it'll still work. Once the clock starts tickin', if the cord gets ripped away from the phone, don't worry about. Keep your real cell phone in your shirt pocket so you don't lose it. Now, you'll be able to talk to both me and Starkweather," he turned to her now, carrying a small headphone with only one earpiece that had a small boom microphone attached. "Oh goody," she said. "I get to be Garth Brooks." Frohike carefully slid the headpiece on, positioning it underneath her braids. He fiddled about with the mike. "How does that feel?" "Weird. But I'll live. Does it come with a fake cell phone too?" "No ma'am," Frohike said. "Yours is real. You're paired up with Mulder so if we for some reason we get separated from you two and out of radio contact, we still have digital contact." Frohike took her hand and guided it to a small switch on the headset. "If we start breaking up, flick this small button "Up" and then hit the number three and the "Send" button. You'll get us, I promise." "What if I get separated from Mulder?" Starkweather asked. Frohike glowered at her. "Your job is NOT to get separated from Mulder." "I'm not PLANNING on it!" she snapped. "Hey, hey, hey..." Sam said. "We're all getting a little tense. Let's just... take deep breaths. Cool down. We need to be calm to pull this off." Sam sounded more relaxed than he felt.... he looked at his watch.... straight up eleven o'clock. Six hours away from Mulder's predicted doom... "Oh boy..." he muttered as Byers came back from McDonalds with enough grease to clog the arteries of everyone in a small county. <> he wondered. He also wondered what Scully had found out last night. June 19, 2001 3:16pm, Eastern Standard Time Forty-four minutes away from Mulder's projected death Sam had been sitting in the rental car, a nice looking Ford Explorer that blended in nicely with all the other cars in the busy Washington DC traffic, for hours now. His wait was nearly over. He looked his (Doggett's) watch. Three-sixteen on the dot. Sam's swiss cheesed memory tormented him. He knew that those two numbers had Biblical significance, but for the life of him, he could not remember what.... "Hey Papa John," Starkweather's voice burst into his thoughts. "You good to go?" Because of the earpiece, her voice sounded tinny. Sam leaned casually on his steering wheel, as if he was waiting for someone, when actually he was looking across the street and the Lone Gunmenmobile, which was posing as a touristy T-shirt vending booth. "Locked, loaded and ready to go," Sam told her although he was privately thinking <> "Are you sure you guys are secure selling shirts?" Sam asked nervously. The last thing they needed was for his crew to be busted for selling without a license. Langly broke in. "It's all good, man, we do this in our spare time. The shirts are no big deal, Byers likes to tie- dye stuff, so we buy Rit dyes and white shirts and let Byers go to town and when the Net is slow or the servers are down, we hock his shit. We've got a permit and everything and we even make a coupla bucks off of it." "Want me to save you a shirt, Doggett?" Starkweather asked dryly. "They are truly works of art." "No thank you." Sam assured her as he looked at his watch again. Three-twenty-six... he felt the fluttering wings of butterflies doing aerobatics in his stomach. He worried not only of the very real danger that lay ahead, but of Scully. What else happened last night? Was she alright? Was she safe? Did she get to see Mulder? But he dared not to call her... Time was too precious now... Sam checked his watch again... Three twenty-seven... Time was very precious now. Justin Leo walked down the hallway, comforted by the dimnessness before the sunrise. He quietly counted the number of doors before finding Ben and Jeri's apartment. He jimmied the lock quite easily and let himself in, not knowing that if he didn't shut the door all that tightly, the cat liked to pry it open with his paw and sneak out. Leo cocked his weapon and stole through the living room and down the hallway. He poked his head into the bedroom, the office, the bathroom. No Jerilyn. "Dammit," he muttered. Well, he would just have to wait for her to come back, he supposed. He worried about the other errands for Marita Covarrubias had demanded of him. Getting the serum and the information to that thing which was once a compassionate human being, now only a lethal drone that Leo could not even comprehend. He felt himself start to panic because he didn't know where Agent Starkweather was. Marita had demanded that Starkweather be neutralized first: "Agent Starkweather is a problem we need solved. Now. Tonight." She had said before handing him the gun and picture of her. It had to be done right. It had to be completed before dawn. Leo watched the living room slowly brighten as he clasped the weapon in his hand, oblivious to the cat sneaking out the door. Leo was lost in his own thoughts for the photo album was open to the page Ben had shown Jerilyn when he had first suspected a connection between her and the Deputy Mayor. Leo picked up the album for a better look. As he lifted the heavy book, he noticed a silver antique locket lying on the coffee table. He picked it up and opened it, looked at the picture of the woman and child together. After stuffing the locket in his pocket, he then took the picture out of the album. Looked at the long dark hair and the catty greeny- gold eyes and felt bile bubbling up his throat. He didn't understand. Lilly was blonde with grey eyes. But this burnette with hazel eyes had her face and her smile and her body... Leo's eyes were drawn towards the mantle. At a tastefully framed five by seven photograph of someone's wedding. Leo got up to examine the two-dimension image of Benjamin Starkweather in a rented black tux, smiling broadly for all to see and of Lilly, with her hair now blond like he remembered and softly curled, clinging to her groom in a simple white gown and in lieu of a veil, a halo of creamy pink roses and baby's breath sat onto of her head like a forest nymph's crown. The sickness left Leo, replaced by a rage and a hurt that threatened to over take what was left of his control. Lilly, alive after all these years. Lilly, disappeared at the tender age of eighteen to reappear ten years later as this almost legendary bitter, bitchy fed. Lilly, married to another man, fucking another man.... Leo's lips pulled together in a thin tight line, clenching the gun in his hands. He looked too and hard for Lilly, Benjamin Starkweather was not going to corrupt her anymore. Leo already decided that Lilly was not going to die. Not today. He'd wait for her to come and he'd warn her and take her away. But the minute that Mulder was at the mercy of the replicant-slave, Ben too, would breathe his last... It never even crossed his mind once that Starkweather was not Lilly, would never be Lilly, but was the key to finding Lilly. He was what Scully had always privately feared Mulder would become if she had not been there to keep him honest. Completely, totally, irrationally obsessed... Caesar the Cat had succeded in getting out of the apartment and had decided to take a nap in the doorway of Officer Sarah Johnson's doorway, who had just gotten home from a twelve hour overnight shift. Her bleary eyes blinked a few times when she noticed the cat. "I don't have a cat," she mumbled as she stooped down to examine the tag. "Oh... it's you Caesar," she groaned, picked the cat up. "Playing Houdini again, I see," she crossed down the hall to return the cat. She noticed the door was opened, just enough for the sly feline to slip out. Officer Johnson heard the sound of weeping coming from inside. Under the circumstances, normally, she would not have put the cat down and drawn her gun because she had heard all about sensationalistic way the unfortunate Mrs. Starkweather become a widow. **But it was the sound of a MAN crying** Johnson crept up to the door, tapping on it. "Mrs. Starkweather?" she said cautiously. Leo was so beside himself he didn't hear the cop's voice. The cop slid through the kitchen and peered around the corner, looking into the living room. She saw the stranger, sobbing his heart out, his hand on the Starkweathers' wedding picture, his other hand, clutching a loaded gun. She swung out of her hiding place, pointing her service revolver at him. "Drop the weapon, immediately!" she ordered. Leo jumped and fired at the cop, hitting her in the shoulder. Johnson went down, but not before she fired at him, getting his upper arm. Leo unwittingly changed history, not by going through the front door and collapsing for Johnson to nab, like Al had told Sam what would happen... but instead he staggered through the apartment, blood staining the carpets forever, into the Starkweathers' bedroom and out to their balcony and down the fire escape... Johnson crawled towards a phone. The female EMT interrupted Skinner and Scully in mid conversation. "Ma'am, all vitals are normal. The wound seems to be superficial. Is there any pain?" When Scully shook her head, the EMT continued. "Looks like you're set then. I'll just need you to sign these release forms since you're acting as your own physician, and you'll be on your way." Scully nodded a thank you as Skinner approached. "Yet another blazer ruined..." She sighed regretfully. "And I got this one at a really great sale..." "Scully, care to fill me in? What the hell happened?" "In my professional opinion?" Skinner simply nodded. "I honestly don't know what to think...I know Marita is connected with all this. I came here with damning evidence on Mulder's defense attorney who was connected to this address. She caught me off gaurd, Justin Leo came out of hiding, and looked like he saw a ghost. He was acting and looking as though he was on some sort of hallucenogenic drug. Then Marita ordered him to finish his 'job' and she shot me, and that's the last I knew." "Scully, you go home and take care of Will, I'm going to follow this up." "Sir," Scully insisted with a sigh, "with all due respect I can't just take a back seat in all this. I found a connection between the Syndicate and Agent Starkweather involving Mulder's father and Starkweather's adoptive father yesterday, and after what I saw tonight, I think Leo's involved with this somehow..." "Scully, I'm not going to allow you to put your life in danger anymore over this matter." Skinner scolded, "I know you wanna help Mulder, but we have plenty of manpower right now to put out a hunt for Leo. Catching Leo is not going to be an issue." Skinner began slowly. "Then what is the issue, Sir?" Scully demanded. "Point blank, Scully, Billy Miles is being sent to kill him." Her boss said matter-of-factly. "He's being sent to his cell tomorrow afternoon..." Scully's eyes widened as he spoke, "that's why he had been in the county jail instead of the state penetentiary after his trial...that's why..." he couldn't even finish. "That's why he was set up?" Scully outraged, "To be baited? If that's all, Sir, I've got...oh my God...Starkweather..." "I still don't see how Starkweather fits into this equation at all, Scully." Skinner persisted. "Scully," Skinner began, "just make sure all your ducks are in a row. If Leo gets away...Mulder doesn't stand a chance. Remember...he's a trained lawyer, he'd take legal loopholes and make them into your noose." "You don't have to worry about that, Sir." Just then, she looked down and saw the trail of blood going out the balcony. "Sir...I've got to go...I'll call you back when I know anything." She didn't wait for his goodbye as she looked down and saw the trail of blood. "We need a SWAT team out here NOW! Officer possibly down-- Yes, I'm the agent you just sent a team out for-- Poss...possibly down because I know an officer lived-- *lives* here and there is a pool of blood in the living area and a trail of blood leading out to the bal--" as she barked orders into the phone, she followed the trail out to the balcony, as she saw the window ledge painted with dried blood, and looked down below, she froze. Justin Leo, having passed out in the bushes momentarily from loss of blood, was just beginning to weave through the shadows. Detecting his movement below, Scully changed her plan. "Call ya right back..." she said, and pocketed her phone. Then, she made a lightening-quick decision on her easiest way down. "Mulder, you owe me a new outfit." She mumbled kicking off her pumps and slipping out of her stockings so she could scale the drainpipe in hot persuit without a slip, and sticking her clipper inside her skirt, she got her footing. High on adrenaline, Leo bolted away from the apartment complex as soon as he spied a petite form clinging to the drainpipes, his ambedexterity helped him to aim at the movement on the pipes who was slowly making her way down. Since they were both moving targets, Scully only flinched at the sound of the firing. "I'mcomingLilynotmuchlongernowbabyI'malmostthereLilyjustg ottamakeittothecarLily" he half-mumbled, half-growled incoherently as he sprinted down the sidewalk. Scully wasn't far behind him. She whinced as the gravel bore into her feet, but in the moment of the persuit, it wasn't consequencial. She pulled her gun out from underneath the elastic in her belt. "STOP YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF BEN AND JERILYN STARKWEATHER YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW YOU HAVE THE RIGHT--!" She barked, aiming her gun. When he got to the apartment-complex parkinglot, she realized where he was headed. "Oh no you don't..." she mumbled, and changed direction, going to her own car. Frantically, she pulled out her cellphone as her engine revved up, she dialed Doggett's cell. No answer. "Come on, come on, pick up!" She coaxed as she tore out of the parkinglot, she dialed Starkweather's cell, carefully snaking in and out of traffic as fast as she could, gaining steadily on her target. "Dammit!" she hissed when Starkweather didn't respond. Thankfully, it was light traffic, and Leo was leading her to an evidently residential area by the Patomac River. Racing after Leo, she then dialed Skinner, "Sir, I'm nearing a neighborhood called Patomac Court in persuit of Justin Leo, he is armed and may still be under the influence. We appear to be stopped at some sort of warehouse. No sir, it's not marked...I cant' tell you which one," Scully said crouching under the dash. "LILY!! LILY!" Leo was screaming, his pistol had clunked on the gravel, and he was now furiously pounding fists rattling the sheetmettle, making the warehouse door sound like falling rain. Scully took this opportunity to make her arrest. Slowly and as soundlessly as possible, she opened her door. She grabbed her gun in the seat next to her and grabbed a set of hand-cuffs. "JUSTIN LEO!" She shouted, aiming her gun at the man for the second time that night, "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE MURDERS OF BENJAMIN AND JERILYN STARKWEATHER AND AIDING AND abetting to the pending murder of Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder," now the cuffs slapped and clicked shut. He was red-faced and swollen now from hysterics. "You have the right to remain silent," Which the suspect did, save for quaking sobs, "anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can't affoard an attorney the court will appoint you one. Do you --" Scully stopped in mid-sentence, the door had been pounded open and cries for help from an apparently gagged mouth could be heard towards the back. "Who the hell have you got in there?" She demanded her prisoner. "Jimmy Hoffa?" She cuffed the other end of the links to her own wrist and led him through the stacks of boxes back to where the muffled cries were coming from. There was a locked room in the back, "Stand back, sir!" she commanded, "I'm going to shoot the door down, we're getting you out of here!" With a bang, the lock blew open, and there sat Ben, bound and gagged in a huddle on the floor. She didn't have the heart to correct the charges against Leo in front of her husband and hastily, albeit unmercifully, yanked the duct tape from his mouth. She then took a peice of glass on the floor and cut the tape binding his feet, followed by his hands. "Agent Scully...I..." Ben began. "Just get in the car," she said as they headed out the door. Leo had just been uncuffed and forced into the back seat when the same black sedan she had seen earlier screeched to a hault behind her own car, sending dust and gravell flying. "Agent Scully," a familiar old voice cracked as a tall figure emerged from the car, "I wouldn't fire if I were you. Kill me and you kill Mulder. Kill them all." Two more goons emerged, both aiming thier own weapons. "I'm the only one who can stop it." Now it was Scully's turn to surrender her weapon to the gravel. She heard Ben whince in pain and then fall limp, and saw them toss him unceremoniously into the backseat. "The agent?" one of them asked. "She will be of use to us later. Without her prisoner, her proof, or her partner she will comply. Without her husband, Widow Starkweather will comply to our demands as well. For now, leave her be." The man commanded softly as he puffed his cigarette. Having just gotten his orders from the men who assailed Ben, Justin Leo knew his task, and tore out of the parkinglot in Scully's car. The three men climbed into the sedan, and sped off in the opposite direction. Needing to hold her son just then, she dialed her boss's cellphone, knowing he could give her a lift home. With quiet heaviness, she barely waited for Skinner to reply. "Sir, I've lost them..." "The Gunmen covertly received blood samples from Mulder and Agent Starkweather that showed a good match. From everything I've found in the last two days, Starkweather IS the connection..." "Scully, I think you need to talk to more adults than the Gunmen and Mulder." Skinner finished. "Don't you get it? Sir...Leo's target is Starkweather." Skinner sighed defeatedly and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "I need an APB out to the residence of Agent Jerilyn Starkweather. 1121 Spotnitz St, 48 Constitution Plaza Apartments to apprehend suspect Justin Leo. He is considered to be armed and dangerous, possibly under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug, male, 33..." He wanted to fit more of the case together, he still wanted to know where the proof was that Starkweather, Leo, and Mulder were all connected, but while he was busy giving out an APB, Scully had aparently taken her leave. "Sir," Skinner nodded in the general direction of his voice as he climbed into the car, "They came up empty in the trashcans except a pack of cigarettes and several butts." "What brand?" "Morleys." The agent answered quizzically. "Tell your men to clear out, we've collected all the evidence necessary." Then he dialed Scully's number. "Scully," he said not waiting for a greeting, "he's back...I dunno how but Spender is back and there's a direct connection this time with her and Marita Covarubias." "Sir, I'm at the Starkweather's looking for more evidence." "I know Ben smoked Morleys..." Skinner began. "No...there's a fresh one in the ashtray that hasn't been smoked yet. He's leaving us a trail..." "One question I've got is what use does he have to keep Ben alive?" "I think I just found it sir..." Scully said as her eyes fell on the open scrapbook and Mulder's picture alongside a freshly smouldered Morley propped on an ashtray. On the way there, Scully recounted what had happened, and everything she had found in her investigation. She also knew that as long as Mulder and Starkweather were both alive, then Ben Starkweather would still be living. Although the Syndicate apparently gained the upperhand during her run-in at the warehouse, what CSM had to say about Jerilyn still being alive gave her hope. "Agent Reyes, I can't thank you enough for all your help." Scully said when she finally made it to her apartment. "Agent Scully," Reyes replied with a thin smile, "I wish I could do more than babysit to help you out. Hopefully Agent Starkweather and I can have a more formal introduction " "Just call if you need anything." Scully said as Reyes took her leave. "Scully," Skinner began cautiously, once they were alone in her apartment, "I want to help you, Mulder, and Will as much as my position permits, but I can't do that until you tell me what's going on." "Sir," Scully replied a little more harshly than she intended, "if what you say is true about Billy Miles, then I don't think the President of the United States can help us." "If we get to the men who have Billy Miles under control," Skinner argued, "then we can get to Mulder and Starkweather in time. All I need from you is the information you have on Justin Leo. If I can track him down, or at least the people who have him under control, then there is a good chance we can protect both Mulder and Starkweather." "Sir, with all due respect...as much as I appreciate your concern, I doubt seriously that tracking down Leo will lead to any kind of results except putting you at risk!" She hissed, careful not to wake Will. "Scully, if what you say is true about the link between Mulder and Starkweather, then it is reasonable to assume that everyone--Will, you, The Gunmen, and me--are at risk for their exposure to the truth. Besides, in my profession, I'm at risk every day of my life. All of us in this business are." "There's a difference between putting your life on the line and being stupid. With all due respect sir, I think this borders a little on the stupid side. I can't let you go out there with no back-up." "Scully," Skinner's tone was quiet and firm, "For now, there's nothing you can do but wait. I made a promise to both of you a long time ago to do what I could to protect that division. Don't ask me to break it now. Not after all we've seen. Now...we can do this the long way or the shortcut around. Either give me the address, or I will get it myself through other sources." With a heavy sigh, she handed him the notes she had taken on the evidence she had found on the man who instigated the situation at hand. "Let me know what you find out as soon as you can." "Get some sleep, Scully...you look exhausted." "You forget sir," Scully said with a wan girn, "I got less sleep before I took maternity leave being Mulder's partner...Will's less demanding." "I'll call when I can." Skinner said and turned and left, determined to get to the bottom of the pending fiasco. Skinner made his way as quickly as he could to Leo's address. He doubted the same things Scully had, but at the same time, he couldn't just sit idly by and let everything slip out of his hands. Leo's obsessed mindset had not allowed for simple cautions, such as making sure the door was locked. He found the house exactly as it's inhabitant had left it, with a bullitin board and stacks of files that were all abduction related. He went thumbed through them and found annonymous correspondence dating back from two years ago giving little tasks, such as stopping environmental case lawsuits from getting to a judge, or hampering with evidence on fraud charges. He logged on, guessed the password of an obsessed man easily, and found his way through his internet history to abductee chatrooms. "These days," an old voice cracked out of the darkness, "You don't need to wish to be a fly in the wall. These little cameras make everything quite clear." "You had this residence monitored?" Skinner growled. "Of course. We had to. It is necessary sometimes to make sure an associate of ours stays on track, completes his task." "Where is Billy Miles?" He fumed. "That, I don't know. I wanted to employ that killing machine as protection against the coming invasion. I have every intention of keeping all those involved alive until they are of no use. There is another party involved here, and I'm afraid it is not my decision to make." "What isn't your decision to make?" "Whether or not we use the replicant." "Like hell it isn't." Skinner barked back. "Assistant Director, you stopped cooperating with us years ago. I know what happened to Alex Krycek. My associates and I can easily make things look so much worse than they actually are. It would be ashame to see such a distinguished career and a man's freedom go up in flames over one cause. I am not an unreasonable man. You know that I am a very powerful friend to have." "Are you trying to cut me a deal?" "Precisely. Obviously a monster running amok in the streets of our Nation's Capitol after a local hero would not bode well for the FBI. Stop Doggett's investigation into Kersh's office, and I will hand over the serum that controls the alien." "Why the hell should I take credence in any promises or bargains you make?" Skinner demanded. "People make bargains with the devil every day, Mr. Skinner. Either way, your career will be up in smoke once Agents Doggett and Reyes begin their investigation. You really have no choice but to comply." "Where's the serum?"