From: Katherine Adams Date: Thu, 15 Aug 2002 21:32:15 +0000 Subject: Submission: Starkweather--Rex-Tremandae Source: direct Later on that night... Starkweather, changed into a black tank top and a short khaki skirt, padded down the stairs. When she reached the bottom stairs, she noted the unusual leafy greenery blooming from the flowerpots built into the banisters. As she stepped closer, she noted a filmy, purplish residue, similar to the body-glitter young girls have taken to wearing lately. Curiously, Starkweather reached out a finger to touch the plant, but before she could, the elevator doors opened. Ian Malcolm, dressed in black, as usual, stepped out. Upon seeing Starkweather, with her long hair hanging down her back like a heavy veil, he did a very stagy double take, clasping his heart as he staggered towards her. Starkweather rolled her eyes, stepped away from the plant without touching it and stepped to meet Malcolm. "Mrs. Starkweather," Malcolm said, taking her hand and kissing it like a gentleman. "It is a sin for women like you to keep such gorgeous hair up in a bun the way you do." Actually, she was already regretting her decision to take her hair down. Despite the air conditioners working overtime, the humidity of the island still managed to sneak into the hotel. Starkweather felt her hair sticking to the back of her neck. Malcolm offered his arm. Starkweather, with an arched eyebrow, accepted it gingerly and together they disappeared into the bar just as Scully was coming down the stairs. She too, changed out of her travel-stained clothes into a thin blue T- shirt and khakis slacks. As she entered the bar, she noted Starkweather and Malcolm, sitting alone at a table in a darkened corner. All she could see was the back of Malcolm's neck. But Starkweather had her face arranged in a very studious manner. She was also, Scully perceived, taking notes on a cocktail napkin. Scully frowned as she sat down at the bar. When the bartender asked her what the lady would preferred, she said "White wine," without really paying attention to him. "Agent Scully?" A gravelly Southern born, New York burned voice rumbled behind her. Scully turned and smiled at Doggett in greeting. "This seat taken?" "No, John, please, sit down. I'm still waiting for Mulder." "And wonderin' what ace our little dynamo's got up her sleeve," Doggett grinned. "Don't worry Scully, she's a big girl. I'm meetin' with Grant tonight. He should be down her in a little bit." "I wonder if Starkweather figured out what Mulder's theory is..." Scully muttered. "Oh no," Doggett couldn't help saying. "What'd Mul-dah cook up now... wait a minute... do I want to know???" "It is pretty far-fetched." "Dana, we're sitting on an island were there may or may not be real dinosaurs runnin' 'round. Define YOUR version of what 'far-fetched' may or may not be." While Doggett and Scully were talking, the bartender took this chance to sprinkle a whitish powder that dissolved immediately upon contact with the alcohol. He placed the wineglass in front of Scully who took a ladylike sip. The same bartender then took two more drugged drinks, a Scotch on the rocks and a Jack and Coke over to Malcolm and Starkweather. So intent was there conversation, they never noticed the drinks. "So..." Starkweather looked at the scribbling on her napkin. "That's the chaos theory." "In a nutshell, yes." "And you based the thesis of your consultation analysis with the original Jurassic Park creators on this theory," Starkweather scratched her head. "Fascinating. I'll have to read up on it some more Dr. Malcolm. We could apply this theory to just about every damn X-File we come across." Malcolm beamed in pleasure at Starkweather's off- handed compliment. "Yes... well... it's a very USEFULL theory... but not very USER-friendly. You grasped the concept right away," Malcolm folded his slender hands together and asked her "Where does your... um... IQ fall by chance??" "Afraid I'd outshine you at the Mensa meetings?" "I knew it! I thought I saw you somewhere before this!" "'Fraid not. I don't have the time," Starkweather purred. She so rarely came across anyone that was her intellectual equal. It was refreshing to her to be able to use big words and not get blank looks. Not to say that her friends and partners were idiots it just that... Unless she could show it off in a work-related situation--or the sadly more common occurrence: employed to royally piss someone off whom she didn't like Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather usually found herself concealing her natural talents. Things like massive intellect, her phenomenal musical abilities (she could play over seven instruments not to mention listening to a song once then being able to play it or sing it flawlessly) and her preternaturally good memory usually intimidated people, and never made it easy to find friends. In her field of work, she had to be smart. And she just couldn't tolerate common-sense impaired people. But still, she always felt like an outsider. There really wasn't anyone in her world she could talk to as an intellectual equal, except for Mulder. Unfortunately whenever she and Mulder spoke, it deteriorated into childish bickering. Starkweather never really said anything about her awkward feelings with her husband or her friends because she didn't want to sound like a snob. She got so sick of being so smart sometimes. Especially when Mulder hinted that it may be due to alien testing and not good genetics. That pissed Starkweather off. There WAS no alien experimentation... she was just.... lucky. Speaking of Mulder... "Have you run this chaos theory past Mulder yet?" "Unfortunately no, I was hoping too... what's wrong??" "Scully," Starkweather said and was out of her chair like a shot... Meanwhile... Mulder still stood in the shower, the water coming out still freezing cold. He couldn't understand it; he felt fine before coming on the trip. Now, he felt very shaky, and slightly nauseous. His tongue felt much too big for his mouth. With trembling hands, he reached for his towel and wrapped it around his waist. Turning off the water, he stumbled into the bedroom. "Scully?" He said, voice shaking. He dressed slowly, feeling the way during his very first drunken binge. He was fourteen, he was hanging out with some high schools that were all downing Pabst Blue Ribbons... "Scully?" He tried to drink some more water, but waves of paranoia washed over him, remembering how someone sinister being drugged his water supply, causing him to go out of his mind and slug Skinner. The glass slipped from his hands, spilling on the carpet. Tummy scampered and hid under the bed. He started to ache all over. He knew he was being watched. he thought desperately as he slid shoes on and left his room, calling out: "Scully?? Scully..." "Scully!!" Starkweather ran to Dogggett, who was cradling Scully in his arms. "Oh my God, Doggett, what happened??" "Happened??" Doggett looked perturbed. "She's DRUNK, that's what happened." Scully lifted her head up. Starkweather noticed she was wearing a shit-eating grin, very... well, UN-Scully-like. Her eyes, pupils huge, overcrowding the blue, lazily caressed first Doggett, then Malcolm as if they were old lovers. "Well boys..." she slurred her words very very badly. "Which one of ya's gonna light my fire?" "Simmer down, Dr. Malcolm," Starkweather warned Malcolm, who's normally morose face lit up in joy at the offer. "How much did she have???" Starkweather asked Doggett. "That's just it, she only had ONE." "ONE???" Starkweather shrieked, and looked down at Scully, who was now starting to coil around Doggett. Doggett definitely looked like he didn't know whether to be repulsed by her actions or to enjoy them. "Damn, girl, you ARE a lightwei-" She stopped and looked at the wineglass. "Ian, be a peach and get my drink," she mumbled to Malcolm. Malcolm, looking confused, retrieved both drinks. Doggett, as usual, decided to be a gentleman and was trying to gently rebuff Scully's very overt come-ons. "Now... Dana.... um..." Doggett was bright pink. Starkweather quietly stole Scully's wine glass. "Um... Dana... now... Mul-dah's not going to like this... so... um... Starkweather, help!!!" Starkweather was ignoring Doggett's problem as she crossed over to get the glasses from Malcolm. "Don't drink that!" she hissed at him just as Malcolm was raising his drink to his lips. Malcolm, noting that the lady meant business, put his glass down. He handed Starkweather her glass. She dumped the liquor out of her glass and handed the wineglass and the pint glass to him. "I don't have pockets, smuggle these to your room." Just as Malcolm successfully shoplifted the glasses out of the bar, Mulder staggered in. "Oh crap," Starkweather moaned. Mulder took one look at Scully curled up in Doggett's lap and went ballistic. "Mulder... it ain't what you thi-" Doggett tried to defend himself, but Mulder had already ripped Scully out of his arms and grabbed Doggett by the throat. "JESUS CHRIST MULDER!!" Starkweather screamed, running towards them, not sure who she needed to help first, Scully, laying giggling in a slovenly heap, or Doggett, whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. American Airways Flight 459 En Route to Mexico City "What happened to Dad?" Peter finally managed to ask once they had boarded their connector flight to Mexico City. "Peter, I didn't hurt him, ok." Leo was almost shouting. Keeping his volume in check when the stewardess eyed him nervously, he whispered hoarsely, "I'd never hurt anybody on purpose. I just had to make sure you came with me." "Where are we going Uncle Justin?" Peter asked wide-eyed. "Mexico City." Leo said closing his eyes. From his nervousness, Peter knew they were going somewhere else. "You don't have to go to school," Leo kept coaxing, "you don't have to go to your Dad's. We're going to this really cool park and all you've gotta do is keep quiet, ok?" "Won't Mom know I'm gone after the weekend's over?" Peter whispered back. "We'll be back before then, Pete. I promise. I just gotta take care of a few things. You're coming along for the ride...and for insurance. Just do as I tell ya, stay low, try not to look like you're not supposed to be with me, and I promise you'll be back before she'll notice. Just get some sleep ok, we've got a long flight. I'm not gonna letchya get in trouble or get caught, ok?" Peter just nodded and closed his eyes. He hoped real Mexican food wouldn't be as weird as he heard that it was. Meanwhile back at the bar "The chaos theory at its finest." Malcolm mumbled, and gladly escaped the rumble. The bartender and the waitstaff weren't even paying attention to the nerdy man with the bulging pockets. One particular entrepenureal busboy was taking bets. Meanwhile Doggett was successfully dodging careless, but swift and mean punches while Mulder was slurring barely comprehensible accusations. "Mul-" Doggett protested futilely, ducking his head to dodge each punch. "Muld--" he sighed heavily. "For Christ sake, listen to yourself for one goddamn minute. Do you even know what you're sayin'? Scully, meanwhile, had managed pick herself up and had flung her arms around Mulder's neck, who was still throwing inaccurate punches. All the while grinning stupidly. "Muldah, I hate to do this to ya, butchya askin' for it this time." Doggett grumbled, and accurately contacted his fist with Mulder's gut, knocking Scully off of Mulder and Mulder onto a chair. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!" Scully gushed, with her arms flung over him. "I never had anybody fight over me before. It's justh like in Titanic." She stayed, lying sprawled out on the floor wither her arms pillowed under her head. She kicked off her shoes as Starkweather nodded to Malcom for help. Then, they pulled her up, still lying flat on her back on a booth. Mulder, meanwhile, was still blindly throwing punches while scrambling to his feet. "Iths ALL YOUR FAULT! Iths your faw *punch* I gaw Fiahed. *punch* Itsth your faw Thcullah gah a bun in the oven. It's your faw *punch* we're on the i-i-i- land. Iths ya faw *punch* I gaw awwesthted. Iths ya fawt *punch* we pwowy not gonna get back. Quite suddenly, and thankfully, Mulder stopped throwing his punches and at the top of his lungs in no recognizable key, broke into song. "Juuuuuuuuuuuust sit right back and you'll hear a tale." He squawked, Scully stumbled up and over in his general direction and soon joined in with him, curling herself sloppily around him. The two together weren't even trying to carry a tune. They were shouting now, not even in unison. Scully was about a half a beat behind him. "A TALE OF A FATEFULL TIP. THAT THTARDED FROM THITH TRAFFIC PORT ABOARD THITH TINY SHIP." Andrea Nowark chose this moment to grace the bar with her presence. If she was going to spend quality time with a panel of riff-raff she needed to be wasted up to her knees while she still could. "Martini, extra dry. No olive." She commanded the bartender, rolling her eyes at the couple's drunken display. Starkweather watched with her mouth curled up like a practical joker and her eyes slit in anticipation as she watched the bartender powder the glass discreetly. The woman, too busy watching the ruckus, didn't even notice what was being put into her glass. She laughed unattractively like a hyena. "Too bad we can't vote her off the island." She mumbled inaudibly. Doggett was the only one who heard her, and would have chuckled at the comment if he wasn't too busy trying to avoid contact again. Malcom, having stowed the glasses in his suitcase for later testing, saw what was going on and only raised a questioning eyebrow in Starkweather's direction. Starkweather, content that Andrea would start to feel the effects of the adult beverage momentarily, started to coax Scully off of Mulder. "SCULLY!" She shouted above Mulder's accusations Scully finally stumbled over to Starkweather and looped her arms around her. With Malcom's help, she led Scully to a couch just outside the bar. "But I wanna staaaaaay!" Scully protested at the top of her lungs. "Scully," Starkweather began, sighing torturedly, closing her eyes as if the world would be normal again when she opened them, "You're drunk." She said simply. Scully slurped her bottom lip under her top one. "I'm not that *hic* drunk! Did you have a twin you didn't know about Jeri? 'Cause they're two of you. But they're fighting over me! How many times do I get to see two guys fighting over me. I bet I can get them to oil wrestle in boxer shorts!" She said giggling uncontrollably. "Don'tchya wanna see that? Ooooooh...make the room spin again, that was cool." "Quite frankly," Starkweather groaned, "the thought of seeing any relation of mine oil- wrestling in boxers repulses me." She hated nursing drunks. "Aaaaaaaw you're no fun." "Scully, you think you can go upstairs now?" Scully opened her mouth to protest, but all that came out was brown-colored vomit with chunks of the burger she ordered for room service. "I think the chaos theory can be applied to drunken stupors, too, wouldn't you agree, Jerilyn." Malcom mumbled Starkweather glared at Malcolm as she tried to ignore the warm, wet, chunky vomit trickling down the top of her feet and in between her toes. <> she told herself. However, the vomiting proved to be a good thing after all, for Scully had thrown up most of her drink, which meant whatever that drug was the bartender had slipped her (and Andrea Nowark, who was putting a fluttering hand to her head, as if she felt dizzy)that hadn't been digested yet, also came out of her. Scully took several gulping breaths. She was still out of the loop, but at least, (<> Starkweather thought) she stopped singing. Scully put her hands to her mouth, "Starkweather," Scully said "There's something wrong..." "Yeah, you just blew chunks," Malcolm said. "Malcolm," Starkweather said through clenched teeth, "stop trying to help." "There's a funny metallic taste..." Scully was desperately trying to sober up but unfortunately, she did ingest enough of the strange white powder to knock her body chemistry off kilter. "And I'm still seeing double." Starkweather sprung into doctor-mode, "We need to get her to her room," she said to Malcolm, kicking off her vomit covered sandals as she stood up. "Will you help me??" Malcolm leapt up and ever the gentleman, carefully scooped Scully up in his arms. "There, there, Dr. Scully," Malcolm tut-tutted to her, "everything will be alright..." They started walking towards the stairs. Scully rolled her head to the side, looked towards the huge bay windows. Her eyes widened and she let loose a high pitched, very un-Scully-like shriek of pure shock and terror. Meanwhile..... Mulder stopped singing. Doggett stared at him, slack-jawed in total amazement. Andrea Nowark, now feeling the effects of the mickey, was trying to steady herself on her barstool. She had turned a nasty shade of green. "Mul - dah," Doggett finally spluttered out. "What the hel- "He didn't get to finish his thought for Mulder's eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed just as Andrea Nowark slid off her barstool, landing on her bony butt and giggling uncontrollably. "Stop starin'" Doggett barked at the grinning busboys who were jabbering in their native language and pointing at the drunk white woman laying sprawling on the plushy carpet. "And git her to her room." The busboys stared at him blankly. Doggett crouched down by Mulder and shook him. "Mulder? Mulder, c'mon, talk to m-" Just then, Scully's ear-piercing shriek echoed through the corridors. The busboys turned white and fled. Doggett bolted up and his hand automatically went for where he kept his gun, which, of course wasn't there because technically, he was off-duty. He heard panicked voices and footsteps running, mostly away, but one was towards the bar. Dr. Grant, ashen faced and panting stopped at the door, "Agent Doggett, you must come, quickl- oh my God, what happened to him???" Grant looked down at Mulder's prostrate body in horror. "Dunno, Grant, but there's something damn weird about this island." "Not weird, Agent Doggett, lethal." "What?" "Dr. Starkweather said Dr. Scully saw a raptor outside the main window." "A what???" Doggett stared at him, then said "Help me with him," and together Doggett and Grant hoisted Mulder up and dragged him out of the bar. They left Andrea laying on the floor. A terrific brouhaha had built up by the time Doggett, Grant and the unconscious Mulder arrived on the scene. Starkweather was yelling in Spanish at three security guards. One of them was speaking rapidly in a walkie-talkie while Starkweather screamed at him, "Hey!! YOU, DAMMIT, I'M TALKING TO YOU, BUDDY!" in English before reverting back to Spanish, pointed at the window angrily. Scully was chalk-white and babbling incoherently, still feeling the effects of the drug as she clung fearfully to Malcolm's shirt. The elevator opened and Christie Carter, in a long black silky robe marched out. "What is going on??" she asked, cranky because she had been called out of bed, marched out. Starkweather wheeled on her. "She thinks she saw a dinosaur running loose outside." "Nonsense," Christie snapped. "All of the animals are monitored on a twenty-four hour basis. We are several miles away from the actual park. There is no way a dinosaur could be loose. Now," she reverted back to her "happy-camp-counselor" mode "it's very late and we have a big day tomorrow, so let's go off to bed, shall we? Please??" "Starkweather, don't punch her," Doggett said under his breath when he saw his partner clench her fist. Instead Starkweather said sweetly "Well, if there's no dinos running loose, then it'll be okay if I go out for a walk around the hotel." "Absolutely not!" Christie snapped. Starkweather smiled, glided past Christie and whispered to her "Busted..." in a singsong voice then beckoned to Malcolm to follow her with Scully. Scully and Mulder's room Fishing the key out of Scully's pocket, Starkweather opened the door. Tummy came out from under the bed, whimpering. "Awww..." Malcolm said. "Cute little guy. Hope he doesn't become someone's snack," he said blithely as he laid Scully down on the bed after Starkweather pulled the comforter and the sheets away. As Starkweather was covering her up, Scully's arm snaked out from under the blankets. "Wha'cha looking for Scully?" Starkweather kept her tone deliberately light. "My gun..." Scully said, trying to sit up. "Those dinosaurs..." "No no no no..." Starkweather pushed her down again. "Fire arms right now are bad. Just get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna to stay here tonight, so everything's all good." "But-" "Lay down!" Starkweather barked at her. Both Scully and Tummy laid down. "You certainly have a way with people," Malcolm chuckled. "And animals." "Good night, Malcolm and thank you for your help," Starkweather said pleasantly. Not deterred in the least, he grinned. "And I have always been a man able to take a hint. Sweet dreams, good Doctor Starkweather," and he crept out of the room. Starkweather first did a through search of Mulder and Scully's room for Scully service weapon and the little Beretta that somehow Mulder got a special permit to still carry (actually, her adoptive father, the Admiral Jeremy Bailey had secured the permit for Mulder but Starkweather didn't know that). She really didn't want to take the chance of Scully getting up in the middle of the night and decide to go Dinosaur-Hunting. A sick and twisted image popped into her sleep- deprived brain: "'ere we are on bee - yoo - ful La Eesla Loona Blan-kah, 'ome to some of the most INCREDIBLE creature eva'! We're gonna have a look-see at this gorgeous little baby T-Rex. Now... this sweet'art, 'ere, is only six foot tall and eats three goats a day... but when she's full grown, she'll be as tall as a 'ouse and will eat-" "Steve! Steve! Look out! The mama T-Rex is coming!!!" "Crikey! Lookit the size of her? Isn't she just gorgeous??" "STEVE YOU IDIOT!!! RUN!!" "YEOUWWWWWW!!!" Starkweather blinked the image of the friendly Crocodile Hunter being munched on by a T-Rex out of her head as she resumed searching for Mulder and Scully's guns. "Ben's right," she muttered. "I have a warped imagination." She found Mulder and Scully's guns, along with their extra clips. She went over to the other bed, unloaded Mulder's Beretta and put the clip and the extras under her pillow. She was about to unload Scully's gun, but, eyebrows scrunched, she tiptoed over to the window and peered out behind the heavy draperies. She saw nothing but glass, thick metal bars and a whole lot of darkness. Starkweather frowned. Metal bars??? "Curiouser," she quoted 'Alice in Wonderland' "and curiouser." She checked to see if Scully fell asleep which, mercifully, she had. Starkweather double-checked the door to make sure it was looked. She went into the bathroom to watch the puke off her feet. As she sat on the edge of the tub, hosing her feet down, she looked idly down and saw the shirt Mulder was wearing on the floor. "What the hell??" she said aloud to no one in particular. "What is that purple shit all...." her eyebrows raised high. Her first instinct was to run back downstairs, but her body was informing her brain that it was very tired and would like to shut down for the evening. So Starkweather, careful to avoid contact with the shirt, left the bathroom and shut the door so Tummy wouldn't get in. She paused over Scully, listened to her soft breathing and then crossed over to the other bed, laying her head on the pillow that hid the extra clips. She safetied Scully's weapon and cradled it in her hand as she laid down on the soft bed on her side, facing Scully. "Insanity," she quoted her partner before falling into the sweet oblivion of sleep. Meanwhile the party continues.... Doggett and Starkweather's room Dr. Grant fumbled with the key as Doggett held Mulder up. "C'mon, Dr. Grant," Doggett grumbled. "He ain't as light as he looks." Grant threw the door open wide and stepped aside as Doggett drug Mulder into the room and unceremonially threw Mulder onto the bed. Doggett sat down on the other bed. "So.... is your line of work always this... exciting?" Dr. Grant asked as he shut the door behind him quietly. Doggett wearily looked at Grant, trying to determine if the man was making a joke or being serious. Or possibly both. "My job's definitely.... interestin'. Seriously, Dr. Grant- " "Call me Alan." Grant leaned against the chest of drawers. "Okay... Alan... do you think Scully saw what she thought she saw?" Grant mulled this over, "We won't know until the morning, when the lurve birds sober up." That comment got a dry chuckle out of Doggett. "I wonder what the hell got into those two?? I've seen Scully drink before... she's not a total lightweight... but Mul-dah?? I thought he was gonna kill me." Grant frowned. "I wish I could tell you. I'm a paleontologist, not a medical doctor, I'm afraid." He heaved a big sigh. "I wish I could allow myself the luxury of thinking that perhaps Agent Scully was hallucinating... but..." Grant closed his eyes. "The velicoraptors are vicious, intelligent animals. Very very intelligent. I do not doubt that if any dinosaur had escaped, it would be those hideous bastards," Grant's body involuntarily shuddered - Doggett did not miss that. "If and when I get back to the United States, I plan on spending some extensive time with my Congressmen to start work on drafting a bill that prohibits the.... resurrection... for lack of a better term.... of lethal and extinct animals." "You'll have a uphill battle on Capitol Hill," Doggett said all too knowingly. "Trust me, right now, we're fightin' 'bout the morality of clonin' human tissue. It's just... insanity." "That's what happens when men play God." "You a religious man?" Grant smiled. "Are there atheists in a foxhole, Agent Doggett?" Doggett smiled back, very tiredly. "If you want me to call you Alan, then you gotta call me John." Grant nodded and tried to fight off a yawn. "You going to be alright with Mr. Mulder?" "I think he's out for the count," Doggett said, half-disgusted. Sure, they had their problems in the past and Mulder like to make little digs at him at his expense... but then, Mulder did that to everyone, so Doggett didn't feel signaled out. "I'd just like to know what the fuck got into him tonight." "On the bright side," Grant couldn't resist, "it solved your sleeping arrangement issues... for one night at least... Mr. Starkweather." "Ha." "Interesting lady... Mrs. Starkweather," Grant took his leave. "Good night, John." "Yeah, you too," Doggett answered. When the door shut, Doggett threw a blanket over Mulder who was shivering like a junkie after a real bad acid trip.... Acid.... Doggett frowned. His hand automatically reached for the phone but he stopped himself. Starkweather would kill him if he called her this late. Doggett sighed, rolled over and went to sleep. Unbeknownst to anyone, a pack of small, chicken- sized lizards, scuttled across the front yard of the hotel on their hind-legs... chattering softly. Meanwhile...somewhere else on the island... "Uncle Justin, I'm gonna puke." "You just don't have your sea legs yet." "Like daddy says he has a third leg sometimes to girls he meets?" "Not quite like that" Leo said with a small smile. "Wait'll you see this place, kiddo! You'll be able to say you were one of the first ones on the island. You wanna meet a real-live dinosaur, dontchya?" "Not if I'm gonna hafta get there in one of those helicopters. I don't like being that high without a door. Besides, I thought dinosaurs were uh...stinky except in that movie where they ate everybody that mom wouldn't let me watch." "They may be stinky...but the word you're looking for I think is extinct." "That's what I said." Peter argued indignantly. Then after a few minutes of silence, "Am I green?" "You'll feel better once you throw up, ok Pete?" The boy rolled his eyes up at his uncle unbelievingly and prattled on the rest of the way in silence. "When we get to our room, I should call my mom, let her know we're here alright." "I don't have a way for you to call long distance, and you can't call her, ok? This must be it." Leo said as he approached a 4-Runner. "Good ol' Schabasser...leaving the key in the door." When in actuality, it was not-so-bright Christie Carter, but it was better Leo didn't know that. "Wow...lots of other cars here," Peter said, driving along the path. "I wonder if there'll be any other kids my age to play with." "We'll see." Leo mumbled. Then he felt a breeze and a shrill crowing. "Was that a bat?" Peter, meanwhile, ran around the car, scrunched himself underneath the wheel. "Peter!" Leo called out. "Dad let me watch the movie." Peter hissed from his hiding place. Another Unseen Something swooped over head, only this time with two cries. Leo gulped. "Schabasser you fucking son of a bitch, what the hell did you not tell me?" He whispered. Just then white, thin substance landed on the shield of the 4X4, as if it were a target. Then a winged giant pterodactyl swooped down and picked up Leo, throwing him onto a patch of tall grasses. "Tha...tha...tha...tha...tha...tha..tha..." a chalk-white Leo mumbled, like anyone intelligently dangerous facing something out of a B-Grade movie, and ran like hell under the car. Judging from the wet blotch in an embarrassing area, Peter was going to need a new pair of pants. Meanwhile, back D.C. 9:34 PM EST. Ana had pulled out of her driveway on her way to class that evening and spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Something covered in blood. It was a wallet, containing all cash and credit cards, a picture of what was once her family. "Oh dear God..." She whispered, and whipped out her cell phone. "Hello, Mr. Cello, sir..." she pleaded softly, not quite sure of what to do next, "I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I need your help..." Later on that night.. Margaret Scully's house 10:45pm, EST Maggie Scully loved spending the quality time that her daughter's work often afforded her with William. But when she tried to place the call to that number Dana had left the operator on the other end of the line had informed her crisply that there was no dial tone. She tried again, an hour later unable to sleep, and tried again. Again no dial tone. The silence that thrived in the throws of the night bred panic like a cancer. This was a new hotel, and trucks and lawnworkers...or anything could have cut phone- lines...anything. That awful movie about the dinosaurs on that island was science fiction. No idiot in their right minds would believe that was scientific proof. Just then, as if on cue, the infant in the next room began to wail. "Shhhhhhhh" She soothed, and pulled him to her, combing her newly arthritic fingers through his fine hair. To her dismay, it was showing signs of darkening. She pulled the rocking chair that she kept in that room to the window that looked down onto the street. "There's nothing there sweetiepie...nothing to cry about...shhhhh." Somehow, she felt like one of those doctors that told her children all those years the sugarcoated lie 'This won't hurt a bit.' But the street was deserted. All was right with the world. And Will wouldn't stop crying. "Hush now...for such a little one you have huge lungs...there's nothing to be upset about. Grandma's not gonna let anything happen to you." For just a second, the infant seemed to quiet down. Then, Maggie noticed that he was staring wide-eyed at one of the toys on the shelf. Eyes that seemed to be the color of a clear, cold winter day were zooming in on a singular object on the shelf. Maggie quickly realized he was starring down a toy that had been given to him by his Uncle Bill. Bouncing and swaying with Will on her hip she walked over with him to the shelf, and picked up the T-Rex. As if Maggie had touched some kind of button, it started whirring and growling. Startled, Maggie dropped it almost reflexively, where its arms and legs began flailing and jaws began opening and closing like someone trying to claw its way out of something. "I TOLD Bill that thing wasn't good for babies!" She mumbled, starring at it wide-eyed, and then starring at her grandson...whose volume had only increased. Maggie clutched the baby closer to her in an attempt to quiet him. "You know William, your grandfather would have been so MAD if you were this loud while he was trying to sleep." She said softly as if he could understand her. Funny thing was, on some level she thought she saw something in his eyes...some intuitive twinkle that told her he *did* know. His wailing was still loud, but now they were staggering. "If you keep getting any louder like that, I think you still might be able to wake him up from Arlington after all." She wondered if she would be getting any sleep that night, and hoped her soft voice would quiet him down. She tried to dismiss what had just happened in that room. He was after all, just a little boy. Maggie sauntered and bounced across the window toting William on her hip, trying to quiet her grandson, who was probably shattering several dreams of her neighbors. Out of the corner of her eye parked underneath a streetlamp, she noticed a dark blue van that had been parked their since the early morning. It was the kind of van the bad guys drove in all those movies, but she remembered seeing it around her daughter's apartment before. "You know, I remember when your mother was about your age. Your grandfather was home for his first night from leave in San Diego. She must have given you fussy-lessons, sweetie-pie. William's crying was still just as loud, but it was now staggering. She walked back towards the dresser. "I don't' remember your mommy's crying waking me up. I must have been really sleepy...but I remember hearing something though, and walking down the hall, and he was SINGING. I hadn't heard him sing before, and we had known each other for a really long time...he was singing a song the kids were listening to in their rooms the other night. Quiet down now, or you may be subjected to my singing voice." If William could have understood what his Grandma was saying, he made no indication, and kept wailing as if vocal chords were indestructible. Dana had apparently inherited her mother's tone- deafness, and Maggie looked around as if anyone else would be listening in the empty apartment. Then softly, flatly, and sweetly, she timidly started what she could remember of that song... and the weird thing was, William quieted down, so it was completely appropriate... "This magic moment, so different and so new Just like any other, until I met you And then it happened, you took me by surprise I knew that you felt it too, by the look in your eyes" Then, surer of herself, louder and even flatter if possible, she got louder as William calmed down. "Sweeter than wine...sweeeter than wihihihine... softer than a summer nighighight...sooooooofter than a summer nighgihgight..." Then, like someone caught with their hand in the till, she jumped at the rude buzzing of the doorbell, and put the now quiet Will in his playpen. "Now who would be here at this hour?" She mused to her grandson. She heard all kinds of scuffling outside of her door, and hesitated first, and the people who had in fact been occupying the van a block and a half down the street were arguing. "Frohike, stay out of sight for a minute! Someone was whispering, "She'll think you're a thug!" "Oh, I'm dressed aptly for that part, aren't I?" A scratchier voice was saying, "Black is a fashion standard!" "Black is also the color most people dress in when we don't want them to DETECT US IN THE SHADOWS!" Byers accented his aggravation by pressing the doorbell. "Byers...you're prejudiced!" Mr. Gravelly voice objected. "I'm not prejudiced, Frohike, I'm DISTINGUISHED!" "Like helllllo, Mrs. Scully." Frohike said affably, and then amiably held out his hand. Just then, Maggie opened the door, glaring at the two men in front of her door fiercely, and hesitantly shook the strange looking man's hand. "Who are you?" She demanded angrily, "What ARE you doing here at this hour?" Frohike wasn't paying attention to her demand, he was peering in, waving at Will as though he was a new relative seeing his baby in a hospital. "Ma'am..." Byers began bashfully... "we're colleagues of your daughter's and Mulder's. Mulder asked us to keep an eye on," Byers jerked his head over Maggie's shoulder in the direction of the playpen "things during the investigation." Seeing that Will seemed to know them, she let them in, rather horrified that Dana allowed such people around her grandson. "That still doesn't explain why..." she glanced cautiously over at Frohike, who had already picked Will up and was sauntering over to the couch..."strange people are barging into my apartment, making funny faces at my grandson..." They seemed harmless enough. "Look, I'm really sorry we barged in at this hour..." Frohike was working on the latest funny face he had practiced. "He actually looks more normal." Byers mumbled, and then cleared his throat and turned to Maggie. "We were wondering if you had any luck getting in touch with your Daughter's room." Byers offered. "Another colleague of ours is on the panel your daughter and Mulder as technology specialist. Apparently we're scheduled to work on their website, but we can't seem to get a ta...a connection." "So that explains it..." Maggie said softly. "Can you shed any light as to why?" "We know people who do..." Frohike cooed in Will's direction, "yes we do, don't we!" Meanwhile Meanwhile La Isla Luna Blanca.. Peter hid underneath the car with his uncle. The winged, big-beaked monstrosities that resembled something out of the Tim Burton movie "Beetlejuice" had stayed there for what seemed like hours. They tossed the car around a bit, almost as though they were playing soccer with the car. But as soon as they realized there was nothing to scavenge, they abandoned the car about fifty feet from the road. Peter thought the idea of spending the night at his Dad's was bad enough. It was ages before he dared to talk. "Peter..." Leo whispered through his teeth. "Uncle Justin, I just wanna go home. I thought they were gonna eat me." "The Pterodactyls weren't predators by nature, kiddo. There's only one way those guys would hurt us." "Why are we here?" Peter persisted, "When am I gonna get to go *home* Uncle Justin?" "As soon as I take care of some business here." He didn't even attempt sincerity. "Then you'll be back." "I haven't eaten since the plane." Peter reminded him. "I just hafta lay low for a little while till I can get to the hotel, and we'll get the whole nine-yards there. Just wait." "Uncle Justin..." Peter hesitated nervously. "I saw something in the paper about you last summer. They said you hurt a lot of men. They said you hurt a lady." "You want some free advice, Pete?" Leo threatened, "Don't be stupid. Watch every breath that comes out of your mouth. I only hurt those people to get what I want. I'm not afraid to hurt somebody else. Just try and see what I'll do if you slip your lip. Just try it once." Peter sat stock-still in the 4-Runner till he heard his uncle snoring loudly. He made sure that he didn't make a sound or shook the car, and was thankful that his Uncle was a very sound sleeper. By the moonlight, he found the road, and then hoisted himself up the first tree fit for climbing and made a bed the best he could with the closest thick branch. Before he finally managed to drift off to sleep, he tried to figure out what that cackling noise was. He hadn't heard a sound like that sense he visited a farm on a field trip in second grade where they had chickens. The next morning August 18, 2001 4:37 AM Central Standard Time Starkweather's treacherous eyes popped open. "Dammit," she muttered, already knowing why she was awake. Her body, after years of early risings because of either for the military or for school, normally automatically woke itself up at 5:30 whether or not Starkweather's brain wanted to join it. La Isla Luna Blanca was just barely in the Central Standard Time zone, so Starkweather's jet-lagged body was still an hour ahead of the game. Starkweather closed her eyes again and after laying there for ten minutes, knew it was going to be useless to sleep. She sat up and yawned. "Starkweather?" A weak voice from across the room beckoned her. Starkweather slid off the bed and crossed over to Scully, who had just sat up. "Well, welcome back from your trip to La La Land." "What happened to me?" Scully asked her. "How did I get here?" Starkweather knelt down by Scully, took her by the wrist to check her pulse. As Starkweather watched the minute hand tick by on her watch, she murmured to Scully, "You honestly don't remember." "No," Scully shook her head. "The last thing I remember was having a conversation with John. Then I blacked out... what did you mean by trip to La La Land." "Let's just say that you and Mulder certainly have a way with livening up a dull party," Starkweather sidestepped Scully's question after finishing taking her pulse. She then felt Scully's hands. She stood up and took out a tiny little Mag-Lite flashlight she kept on her keychain out of her pocket. "Look into the light Scully," Starkweather said, biting her lip, watching the reaction of Scully's pupils to the light. "How do you feel? Headachy? Clammy? Queasy?" "A little... I'm more concerned with the memory loss." "Me too," Starkweather said, switching off her flashlight. "Agent Scully, my friend, someone on this island is trying to either discredit us or kill us or both and I can't figure out which option they're going for. You have a sluggish pulse and your pupils didn't dilate as fast as they should have to the light, you're definitely had some sort of depressant in your system, it's wearing off, you're much more coherent and alert but you're still suffering from some of it's effects. As for what the hell's in you...." "Like a date-rape drug?" Scully said warily. "Maybe..." Starkweather said. "Jesus." "You said something about Mulder..." "He was... acting... not like his usual charming self, but I think... I think he was reacting to something else... Scully, I think you're okay now, but I don't want to leave you alone, do you think you're up to walking with me to Doggett's room?" "Sure." And Scully and Starkweather locked the door behind them. Both women were barefooted and they padded down the hallway to Starkweather and Doggett's room. Starkweather knocked on the door. Doggett bolted away at the knock. He reached for his gun and walked to the door. "Yeah??" he said. "Papa John, it's me and Scully. Put the gun down and let us in." Doggett opened the door. "How'd you know I had my gun?" "X-ray vision," Starkweather quipped as she and Scully walked in. "Dana, you feelin'... better?" Doggett asked carefully. Scully meanwhile had made a beeline over to Mulder's sleeping form and started to examine him so Starkweather filled Doggett in. "She has no memory of what happened. Plus, whilst you were dealing with Moose and Squirrel over there, I saw the bartender drop a mickey in Andrea Nowark's drink. I didn't have time to prevent it." "Where is she now?" Doggett was instantly concerned. "I mean, yeah, nobody likes her, but still we can't just-" Starkweather interrupted, "Don't worry, I saw a security guard carrying her out of the bar when Dr. Malcolm and I were taking Scully upstairs. So she's fine." "Did anyone else see this guy spiking drinks?" Starkweather shook her head, "No, but I had Malcolm cob Scully's glass and my glass out of the bar. All I need is a microscope." "I've gotta theory 'bout Mulder." "So do I, you first." "It's from an older X-File from way back, early nineties? This was prior to Mulder's first disappearance, when a hacker called "the Thinker" gave him an encrypted diskette." "Sure, I read that case. The text of the diskette was written in Navajo. It pertained to alien experimentation and the development of a vaccine. This is my favorite X-File," Starkweather said dreamily, "Scully shot Mulder...." "To prevent him from killin' a witness, Alex Krycek if memory serves," Doggett said severely. "He was actin' under the influence because someone was druggin' him through his water." "With LSD. I read that. That crap gets into your spinal cord and stays there forever. You know, I always wondered why Kersh waited until the oil rig fiasco to can him when all he had to do was demand Mulder take a drug test. He would have been busted." "Maybe, but that's neither here or there. What I'm getting at is, if someone who had LSD in there system prior, somehow ingests another drug with similar properties as LSD.... what are the possibilities of them havin' what's commonly called a 'bad trip'?" "Pretty damn good," Starkweather said. "In fact, Doggett, I think for once you and I are on the same wavelength. In fact... I'm going to go prove your theory right as soon as I get out of this damn skirt." "And I," Doggett said. "Am going to wake up Langly's ass. I wanna know what dirty little secrets are hidin' in there computers." "Good idea," Starkweather agreed. She turned to Scully and asked "How is he?" Scully pulled away from Mulder, who was still snoring softly. "He's sleeping like a passed out addict," she said soberly. "I'm going to stay here and take care of him," She rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to change my clothes," Starkweather mumbled as she started to rummage through her duffel bag. Doggett got on the phone. He frowned. "No dial tone," he grumbled. "I'm gonna go down there, what room is he in?" "1223," Starkweather said as she pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a blue tank top. Doggett left the room after stuffing his gun down the back of his pants and pulling his shirt over his weapon. Starkweather said to Scully before disappearing into the bathroom, "Go ahead and lay down Scully, you still need rest too." Fifteen minutes later... Starkweather, in her favorite pair of denim shorts and an ugly blue tank top padded down the majestic stairwell, carrying a heavy FBI field kit. For a moment, she admired the architectural design of the hotel. "Swanky," she muttered, touching the marble banister of the stairwell just for the childish pleasure of feeling the hard coolness on her skin. "Truly ooh la la." The massive marble banister followed the curves of the stairs and ended in a massive marble flowerpot were giant spiky plants resided. Starkweather's first thought was they resembled spider plants. Only spider plants did not bloom and this had huge violently violet flowers. Looked very tropical. Starkweather bit her lip. She crouched down on the stairs a few feet away from the plants, looking at them warily, as if she was expecting them to jump out and bite her. She opened the kit and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. After putting them on with a snap, she took out a second pair and put them over top. She then reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves she usually wore when she was out on the firing range and practicing with firearms bigger than FBI standard issue. "Taking no chances I see." Starkweather jumped about a foot in the air. She turned round and smiled. "Oh...it's only you..." Meanwhile... Doggett pounded on Langly and Wick's door. "Alright, alright, alright," Langly grumbled from the other side. "Hold your horses." Langly swung the door open. "Oh, it's you." He muttered. "Always a joy to see you too Langly." "Yeah. Sure." "Listen," Doggett said with a sigh, "I ain't got time to get into a pissin' contest with you, Langly. I need your imput and I need it now. Weird shit has been goin' on with the island-" "Yeah, like there's no freakin' dial tone," Langly bitched. "Yeah, I noticed that too." "You better come in," Langly said bitterly. "You're right, we better talk. 'Cause I don't know what good I'm gonna be if I can't get a phone line out of here...." "Listen," Doggett said with a sigh, "I ain't got time to get into a pissin' contest with you, Langly. I need your imput and I need it now. Weird shit has been goin' on with the island-" "You're right, Dogbert. We gotta talk." "Quit callin' me Dogbert." Doggett followed Langly inside. Langly shut the door and locked it. "Man, I don't know what the hell they're doin' but security is real uptight. There is no dial tone, can't even call room service. There's some sort of scrambler, because I tried to call Frohike and Byers on my cell and I got a no- service signal, which is a buncha crap." Langly lead Doggett to his bed and waved his hands over his computer notebook, what looked to be bits and pieces of metallic junk and piles of papers, mostly chickenscratch notes on a yellow legal pad. "If I can reach the guys, they can hook me up via satellite, but if I can't communicate with them... there is one other way through, but it's prehistoric. No pun intended." "What's that?" "Radio airwaves. See, they can disable phones and scramble digital service, but you can't do nothing about the sound barrier. I'm trying to put together a ham radio. It'll be absolutely primitive, but I'll be able to reach the other guys. Plus... well, Dogbert, maybe I'm a pussy compared to you, but I don't like it that we're stuck in the middle of freakin' nowhere and we've got no communication. What if someone gets hurt? What if someone back home has an emergency... like if Scully's kid gets sick and they need her to come home ASAP. How are we supposed to get through??" "Langly..." Doggett said slowly, feeling sick to his stomach. "I don't think we're supposed...." Meanwhile... "Doctor Wick," Starkweather said cordially. "I didn't know you were an early riser?" "Did I scare you Agent Starkweather?" "No. Just surprised me." "Intrigued by this plant?" "Yes. Very." "So am I. And very concerned. If I am not mistaken, this species from the Kingdom Planta, was supposed to be extinct. I am presuming that this was resurrected along with the dinosaurs." "Why the concern, Dr. Wick?" The roly-poly man frowned mightily. "Eventually, this plant, if theory is to be believed, evolved into the cactus plant that provides peyote. You are familiar with peyote, Agent Starkweather?" "It's a type of hallucinogenic drug certain Native American tribes use during ritual ceremonies." "Very good, Agent Starkweather. Observe the small spikes on the leaves of the plant," he pointed to the plant, but did not touch. "And also, the fine powdery film on the leaves. Appears to be pollen, but is not. I have a theory about this film that I'd love to test..." He scratched his chin. "Well, doctor," Starkweather held up her hands, clad in its triple layers of gloves. "I'm already gloved up. Just let me put on goggles and a surgical mask and I'll be ready to rock and roll." "Perfect!" Wicks exclaimed. "The staff was ever so kind as to let us use one of their laboratory facilities downstairs." "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Starkweather was in the process of puttin the goggles over her eyes. "The cloning labs are... in the basement of the hotel????" "Yes." "THAT DOESN'T BOTHER YOU???????" Starkweather shrieked. "That we could be sitting on a living time bomb?? No pun intended???" Dr. Wicks was slightly flustered. "I- I- I- really d- didn't think about that, Agent St- starkweather. I just thought it was fortunate that we had a full lab at our disposal so we could exami-" Starkweather held up her hand. "It's okay, really," she lied so he would stop his blubbering. "Let's just do this." She tied the mask to her face and got out a tiny pair of scissors, Ziploc baggies, cotton swabs and microscopic slides. "Let's get to work, Doctor," she said as carefully, she stepped closer to the plant she strongly believed poisoned Mulder. With shaking hands, she collected samples, hardly daring to breathe. After twenty minutes of pain- staking, tedious labor, she was completed. "Dr. Wick, in my field kit," Starkweather instructed him "there is a plastic box labeled 'Hazardous Waste.' Please get it out. I have to put the scissors and my gloves in there," she said calmly as she tried to ignore the iridescent powder shining vindictively on her black gloves. "Also, there's a bottle of anti-bacteria cleaning solution and alcohol pads. Get those out." Wick did as she said. Starkweather quickly peeled off, one layer at a time, the gloves after stuffing the scissors in the Hazardous Waste box. She scrubbed her hands with the alcohol pads, wincing at the sting. She then doused her hands with the anti-bacteria cleansing solution. With a sigh, she stood up and cracked her neck... And saw something small and green scuttle across the floor around the corner. Instantly, Starkweather reached for her gun. "Stay here," she hissed. "Unless you see a monster coming, then run like hell." She ran down the stairs, gun out, safety off. She ran down the corridor. She peeked around the corner, and saw nothing. Nothing but rows and rows of plants. These plants, Starkweather could clearly see, were harmless. Just your standard decorative palm trees, circa 2001 AD. "Good God," she muttered, feeling like a fool. She turned her back and returned to Wicks. "False alarm, I'm sorry," she said. "Let's go to the lab," she picked up the samples, safely enconsed in Ziploc baggies and the FBI field kit. Together they walked to the elevator. Meanwhile, from the leaves of the harmless palm trees, a pair of black reptilian eyes peered out. Thirty minutes later Laboratory A1, Sub-Level One "Look at that..." Dr. Wick moved aside so Starkweather could peep into the microscope. "Oh my God..." Starkweather said. "There's enough shit in that plant's secretion to kill a small child." She looked up at Dr. Wick. "What irresponsible idiot put a plant like that right in the lobby??" Dr. Wick shook his head. "Probably the same idiot that thought cloning dinosaurs was a good idea." "You are against this project, Dr. Wick?" Dr. Wick paused, debated internally and then asked timidly. "Do you know who Dr. Ellie Sattler is?" "No." "She was with Grant and Malcolm on the first Jurassic Park venture. The stories she told me after our government convinced Costa Rica to let her and Grant leave... did you know that that Costa Rica held them for several months because of the InGen Incident?" Starkweather shook her head. "Well... anyway... after she told me what happened... and when I got this offer to view the new and improved Jurassic Park... for Ellie, I had to... you know... do something." "How did you know Dr. Sattler?" Wick was silent for a moment. "I almost married her." "Oh." Starkweather felt like an asshole. "Don't feel bad, that was many years ago. Many years and many pounds ago." He laughed and his belly shook like Santa Claus's. Starkweather smiled weakly. "Anyway... I'm here for Ellie," he said firmly. Starkweather picked up the legal pad she had been taking notes on. "Dr. Wick, I need to meet with my partner." She reached for one of the microscope slides. "What are you doing?" Starkweather stared at him. He looked annoyed that she was trying to take one of the samples. "Evidence has a nasty habit of disappearing on an X-File. I just want to take a slide up to my room for safe-keeping," she said pleasantly enough, but the back of her neck prickled. Suddenly she really didn't like this jolly fat man. "Of course, of course," Wick said half-a-second too late. "See you at the luncheon then," he said brightly. "Right," Starkweather took the slide and popped it in the baggie. "Dr. Wick, you realize everything we spoke of this morning is strictly confidential." "Oh of course," Wick waved her off as he peeped in the microscope again. "And if I find anything else interesting, I'll find you." "Great," Starkweather said with a fake smile. While Wick's back was to her, she snatched a very small microscope and held it behind her back. "See you later." She practically ran out of the lab. She avoided the lobby all together and took the elevator straight up to her floor. She nearly ran into Doggett and Langly when the doors slid open. "Hello!" She exclaimed. "Doc, where've you been?" Doggett asked her irately as Starkweather got out of the elevator. "We've got major problems." "No shit," Starkweather said as the trio started walking down the hall towards Doggett and Starkweather's room. "And we haven't even seen the stinkin' dinos yet," Langly said. "That's what scares me," Doggett muttered darkly. "Think we better wake up Grant and Malcolm?" Langly asked. "Yes," Starkweather and Doggett said at the same time. Meanwhile... Mulder woke up with a start. Scully rushed to him. "Mulder?" Mulder put his hand to his head. "Jesus, Scully... what happened?" "You don't know?" "No." "Shit." Mulder, startled because it was so rare for Scully to swear, said "What? Why?" "Because, Mulder, I don't remember either. Starkweather and Doggett think someone tried to drug us last night." "Drug us? What for?" "I don't know." "Unless they don't want us to leave the island knowing the Truth." "Truth???" Scully said with a tinge of irritation in her voice. "What Truth. We haven't even been on the tour yet." Starkweather, Doggett and Langly entered the room just then. "Well... Starkweather grinned at her older brother. "Welcome back Sleeping Beauty." "Ok, what the hell happened last night?" Mulder said, sinking back onto the pillows. "I have the nagging suspicion that I may have made a horse's ass of myself last night and wouldn't mind being clued in what the hell I did." "Let's just say," Doggett said angelically, "that you have a beautiful singin' voice." "Oh God," Mulder moaned. "And you hit like a girl," Starkweather added. Mulder gave Starkweather the bird. "As fascinating as this is," Scully snapped. "Could somebody please tell us what's going on?" "We're waiting for Grant and Malcolm," Doggett told her gravely. "They were still in their jammies," Starkweather said. A few minutes later La Luna Blanca Grant knocked on Doggett and Starkweather's door. "I wonder what fresh hell they've discovered for us," Malcolm quipped dryly before Starkweather opened the door. "Ah, good morning Dr. Starkweather." "Sorry for waking you up, but we need to have a little pow wow with you two," Starkweather escorted them in. "I hate to sound like an idiot-" Mulder started. "That's never stopped you before," Starkweather interrupted sweetly. "Wow, you're just on a roll today, aren't you baby sister?" Mulder drawled. "Don't call me that." "But could someone fill us in what happened last night?? And where's my dog???" Mulder sat up and looked down at the floor. "Tummy?? Tuuummmy... where are you girl??" Tummy squeezed out of her hiding plan from under the bed and bounded towards Mulder. Mulder scooped her up and scratched her ears. "Hi pretty girl." Without even looking up he said "The first one in this room that makes fun of my dog's name will get a boot up their ass." "I think he's referring to you," Malcolm said to Starkweather. "Shock, surprise, dismay," she replied with a shrug. "Can we PLEASE get on with this meeting?" Scully snapped. Starkweather turned to Doggett and Langly. "Well, should we give them the bad news or the shitty news first?" "The bad news," Doggett said, "is that according to Starkweather's research, it's pretty much confirmed that the people planning this island are complete morons." "Well, that's heart-warming," Malcolm said. Starkweather, in all seriousness now, asked Mulder. "Mulder, before you deprived us of your company for your trip to La-La Land, do you remember brushing up against a plant anytime on the island?" Mulder thought. "That plant in the big pot at the bottom of the stairs. It left some purple gunk on my hand..." She held up a Ziploc baggie. "Doctor Wick and I took some samples... he determined that this plant is another resurrection of an extinct biological entity from the Jurassic era. There are enough poisons in that plant to kill a kid and enough to make a grown man go absolutely loopy and start signing the theme song to 'Gilligan's Island.'" Mulder turned white. "I did not." "Did too. Anyway... to add to the fun," Starkweather continued. "While we were at the bar, I have reason to believe, someone was slipping mickeys into our drinks, which is why Scully... uh... well..." Somehow, Starkweather couldn't think of a way to describe Scully's actions. Mainly because she was afraid if she was too sarcastic about it, she would get mad and kick her ass. Scully solved the problem for her. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know," she said stoutly. "I took the drink glasses Malcolm and I were about to drink from when Scully started to... act under the influence-" "Hey, how come you use euphemisms with Scully, but with me, you just blurt out 'oh he was singing Gilligan's Island'?" Mulder exclaimed indignantly. "Because I like her better than you." "Guys," Doggett growled. "I took our glasses and Scully's so I could test them and compare... but it wasn't necessary because I witnessed the bartender putting powder into Andrea Nowark's drink." Everyone grinned wickedly. "I wish I could remember that part," Mulder said dreamily. "Oh, I assure you," Malcolm said. "It was lovely." "And that, ladies and gents, is just the BAD news..." Starkweather turned to her partner. "Doggett?" "What do you MEAN that's JUST the bad news?" Scully said. "Well, Scully," Mulder said mildly, "the Hurricane did say that there was bad news and then there was shitty news. So, Doggett, what's the shitty news?" "We have no means of communicating to anyone off of this island." There was a startled silence. Then Scully said, "How am I supposed to call home to check on my kid?" Malcolm, as gently as possible, pointed out "I think your priorities are switched, Agent Scully. If there's no communication, and there's a pressing reason where we need to, oh I don't know, get the hell off of this fifth ring of hell... how are we supposed let anyone know we're in trouble?" Another silence, broken by Starkweather. "Oh man, what a clusterfuck." "Ian..." Dr. Grant cautioned, "If we can't communicate, we're pretty much STUCK on this island. Getting OFF is a moot point." "Thank you, Optimist of the Year." Malcom snorted. "The only way we're getting out of this," Scully concluded, "is by either outrunning the dinosaurs or finding another way off this island." "Langly, Doggett," Starkweather began, "you two are the wirewizards. Any bright ideas for communications systems?" "If we were planning on camping out," Doggett began thoughtfully, "I could fan distress signals in the campfire...but since we're planning on coming back here every night...I think that's about as useful as our cell phones with no signal. "Somebody was paying attention in Boy Scouts that day." Langly quipped. "And" Mulder said, completely ignoring Langly's comment, "a lot of people with a lot of power who would rather us be dead than expose what all the Dr. Frankensteins are doing here." "Byers, Frohike and me did research before I left on this three hour tour," Langly began, "and it turns out that this place is worth some major Benjamins. Looks like there's a lotta people who have a lotta stake in this place." "You mean you guys don't spend all your time on those databases hunting down conspiracies and looking up nudy pictures?" Starkweather quipped. "Exactly how much are we talking about here, Mr. Langly?" "Major Benjamins, Dr. Grant. There was only about twenty investors altogether, fifteen of them made the fortune500 list." Langly triumphantly nasalled. "Dr. Grant..." Starkweather groaned, "Garth Algar over here forgot to mention...in the X-Files office, we have a code to live and die by. That code is...never use titles...EVER, except when we have to suck up to the Rat-Bastard Deputy Director of the FBI. No Misters, Misses, or Doctors..." "So with Gilligan and Ginger over there, its Mulder and Scully--" Malcom muttered, "even in the throes of the naked pretzel. Weird." Starkweather, who was in close proximation, promptly elbowed him in the ribs. "Just Langly." Dr. Grant finished with a note of exasperation in his voice. "Look, Starkweather...I appreciate the notification, but I still don't understand why I got up before the sun did." "Dr. Grant, I appreciate the frustration, but it's only fair to warn you. The reason we all called you here," Doggett answered, "is because we felt it's in your best interest that they don't find out we know about our isolation. They think they have one up on us, and I'd like to keep it that way." "What if we ditch the tour." Scully said thoughtfully. "If we're separated, that means even LESS panel members get off the island." Starkweather reminded her. "If we're separated into two groups," Mulder thought aloud, "the chance that the other panelists will find all of us is lessened immediately." "Some of us can find the evidence to put these guys in jail where they belong..." Scully finished, glancing nervously at Mulder, "and the rest of us can go back to the mainland and get transportation off the island for those of us looking for evidence." "And leave all the other panel members to be dinodinner?" Starkweather countered. "Ok...the megabitch we can ditch...and I don't think the world's gonna miss another snakey lawyer...and I doubt seriously Christie Carter's gonna be missed..." "It's a good plan," Dr. Grant countered, "but you people don't know these monsters like I do...they're smart...they can strategize...we're on they're turf. Strength in numbers seems to be our only advantage here. Exactly how long do you think you can outrun a velociraptor with speeds at up to Tropical Storm force winds?" "What good is strength in numbers," Scully argued, "if the numbers are ripped to shreds? I think you and Dr. Malcolm should be in separate groups since you two know the island the best." "Look," Doggett addressed Grant and Malcolm, "If there was a better way off this island, we'd take it in a heartbeat. I don't' like the idea of everybody separating either, but I think that's the only way the people who don't want us off won't find us. Seems to me we're off this island one way or the other, and I'd prefer it not to be through a prehistoric shit." "Look, Doggett" Grant answered, "I realize that we're in a dangerous position here, but I've been on these grounds. Bulldozers, cars...anything could cut the lines..." "Barney?" Mulder said with a smug grin plastered across his plate. Scully and Starkweather both flashed him warning glares. "If they don't want me to say dinosaurs are on the island, why would I be invited out here if they know that I've seen creatures thrive first hand on this island that are supposed to be extinct?" "Because," Starkweather said pointedly, "they want to make sure that people still think that a Spielberg flick is just a Spielberg flick." "I assure you, Starkweather," Dr. Grant fumed, "these dinosaurs *ARE* real. They *WILL* attack. There's nothing soft and cuddly about these monsters, and I do not wish to be second on the food chain." "Speaking of which," Langly interrupted, "once we get away from the tour, assuming we *can*, what the hell ARE we going to do for food? If the plants around here that these labs developed have enough LSD for Woodstock 3, how can we be so sure that the flora around here aren't going to have the same...um...kick?" "I bet we can make a pretty good meal outta Tummy." Starkweather grumbled, grinning evilly at Mulder. "Tastes just like chicken." Mulder covered the dog's ears. "One little phone call to the ASPCA...that's all it takes..." Mulder threatened. "Oh, I'm sure the ASPCA would LOOOOVE to hear how you've subjected a domestic pet to a lot of predators." "Bite me." Mulder growled. "I thought that was her job." Starkweather mumbled, jerking her thumb in Scully's direction. "According to the tour schedule," Doggett said, taking over the basic plans, "we don't start on the tour of the grounds till about twelve. The only way we're gonna get off this goddamn island if we split up into camps and take stock. Last night's not gettin' any longer, and the day's not going any faster if we don't use the time we've got left till the luncheon to find out what we can about the communications systems, number of planes, anything we need to know. Langly, you and me can scout out the communications, Dr. Malcolm, Dr. Wick, and Muldah, you scout out our transportation. Scully, Starkweather, and Dr. Grant, since you three are the medical opinions 'round here, we will be scoutin' the labs for evidence to put these people behind bars. Any questions?" Starkweather said tentatively, "I don't think we want to involve Dr. Wick. I think it's in our best interest to keep him in the dark." "Why?" Langly asked. "He's seems harmless enough." Starkweather paused, glancing at Dr. Grant before continuing on, "I have my reasons, Langly, and that should be enough for all of you." "Heil, Fraulien," Mulder muttered, swinging himself out of bed. "Let me change clothes quick and let's get this party started." Doggett pulled Starkweather over and whispered, "What the hell was that all about." "Dr. Wick weirded out on me in the lab and I am really questioning his motives, Doggett. I don't think he's in cahoots with the trained seals running this place, I think he has an agenda of his own." "Like what?" But before Starkweather could clue him in, Mulder burst out of the bathroom in clean clothes and said in his curiously flat monotone "Let's get ready to rumble." Starkweather, with a resigned sigh, shrugged and said "Bring it on." "Look, Peter, Jan," Malcolm interrupted, "as much as it thrills me to listen to you squabble, I have lots of other things I'd much rather be doing...like...oh...sleeping comes to mind. Mr. Mulder, I'm too goddamn old to be risking my ass because somebody gets their shits and giggles from playing Fred Flintstone for a weekend." "According to my schedule," Doggett offered, "we're not touring the island itself until after brunch at ten." "How long do you think it would take us to get off this island, Dr. Grant?" Scully asked. "Judging from the length of the drive from the pad, I'd say it would take us a day. But that won't do any good whatsoever if we can't even get OFF the launching pad." "You think this island's old enough to have oil on it yet?" Mulder mused. "There is uh...something..." Langly offered timidly. "While you guys were taking your three hour tour, I was playing D&D with Dr. Wick. He reached into his laptop carrying case he brought with him and produced a very faded hardback copy of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. "Yippee...we've got fire paper." Malcolm sneered. "Insert Castaway joke here." "Look, I can make a deal with Wick for this, guys." Langly said with a heavy sigh. "I can use this as leverage to get us some fuel for the plane back." Meanwhile.... Monica Reyes' Apartment Falls Church, VA The doorbell rang once. Then twice. Then it kept ringing incessantly. Reyes was jolted awake by the annoying sound. Her cold hadn't gotten any better, in fact, she was wondering if it was a sinus infection. She was actually to the point where she was seriously wondering if she would feel better if her face just exploded, therefore relieving the pressure. "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," she yelled as loud as her scratchy voice and stuffed up nose would allow. She threw on her robe and crawled out of her nice, warm, soft bed and stumbled towards the door. She peered through the peephole. A funny little man was waiting for her outside, still ringing the doorbell. "Who is it?" she said but the little man couldn't hear her over the doorbell ringing. "Who is it?" she demanded, opening the drawer in the cute little in-table next to the door and pulling out her gun. The doorbell kept ringing. "QUIT RINGING MY GODDAMNED DOORBELL OR ELSE I'M GONNA PULL YOUR LIVER OUT THROUGH YOUR NOSE!!!" Reyes finally hollered. Of all three female agents, Reyes was normally the more personable (she actually smiled from time to time, spontaneously) but when she was sick, her bitchness made Starkweather look like a princess. The funny little man stopped ringing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized in heavily accented English. "My name is Manny Ibarra. Can I come in?" "WHO?" "Manny Ibarra. I'm friends with the Deputy Mayor. We did jail time together." Manny paused and then saddled up to the door. "I was the one that gave him the pictures from the park off of the shores of Mexico." Reyes thought for a minute, then rolled her eyes, remembering now Mulder, Scully and Starkweather's description of "The Illegal Alien." Reyes unlocked the door. "Come in, come in," she ushered him inside. "So, you're Agent Reyes huh?" Manny said cheerfully. "Wow, you look like hell." Reyes, with her runny nose, chapped lips, ringed eyes and hair sticking up wildly every which way, glowered at him. "Can I help you Mr. Ibarra? I am not feeling very well." Even though she was miffed that Doggett just scooted off with Mulder, Scully and Starkweather for a weekend jaunt in the tropics, she really wasn't jealous anymore. She just wanted to stay home, in her nice warm bed and sleep. "Um... have you heard from Mulder and the rest yet?" Ibarra asked her nervously. "No, why? Should I have?" Reyes put her hand to her head. The pounding was increasing. "Agent Reyes, I'm sorry to bug you when you feel so bad, but something's not right. My brothers, Quinto and Rafael, they work on island. As guards. And normally, they email me and our Mother everyday and they call Mom every week. Anyway... Mom calls, furious 'cause Quinto and Raf never called her this week. Didn't get in touch with her at all. So I emailed them... nothing." "So?" "Agent Reyes, you don't understand. My brothers are as faithful as the sun when it comes to family. They ALWAYS email. They ALWAYS call. Especially Mom, because she'll throw a hissy fit if they don't. The very day before I get the FedEx package with the diskette from the digital camera, Raf sends me a forward full of dirty Spanish jokes. The very next day, I get nothing. No forwards, no replies, no "I'm away from my computer" message. Nothing. No reason given why they would just abruptly stop communicating. So I got in touch with the Lone Gunmen, as they call themselves and told them what was going on. They were concerned because one of their members, um... I don't remember his name, but he was the tall, skinny one with the nerdy glasses and hair that needed to be cut?? He never called or emailed them either." That caught Reyes' attention. "Are you serious?" "As heart attack, Agent Reyes. They went over to Agent Scully's home to talk to her mother to see if either Scully or Mulder called in to check on the baby." Reyes stared at him. "There's something you're not telling me." "Yes, well... maybe I'm over-reacting, but... well... I wasn't going to come over here and bother you, but... as I was talking to the Gunmen about my brothers, the short one, he was monitoring the weather down in that area. He pulled up," Manny took a computer print out of his pocket. "this on the computer screen." Reyes took it from him. "It's a weather map." "Yes... now, the Gunmen said they were going over to see Scully's mom and Scully's baby and to ask if Scully or Mulder called but they weren't gonna tell her this because they didn't want to scare her... but they told me to come here and tell you." He took a breath. "There's a tropical storms being forecasted for Cozumel, La Playa del Carmen and La Isla Luna Blanca are all in its path." Manny looked nervous. "It's not a hurricane, but it could be bad enough. And if it's bad enough that they need to evacuate the island but they have no communications..." he trailed off. Reyes' mouth went dry. "Mr. Ibarra, I need to you leave," she said before he could protest. "I need to get cleaned up and need to see a doctor so that maybe he can give me some antibiotics so I can shake this thing I have." She showed him the door. "Let us know if you hear anything," she said as she shut the door. Before she got into the shower, she called Skinner. But Skinner was dealing with a separate problem.... a kidnapping. Meanwhile... The Lawfirm of Carter, Adams and Spangle "Mr. Cello, thank you. Before we get started, just let me say this. I'm in debt up to my ears. But I'll meet you halfway. I'll represent myself. Bottom-line here is we've gotta find Peter. He's all I've got left." "Ms. Sedai..." "Ana. My name is Ana." she immediately unpacked her backpack and got out hundreds and hundreds of printed pages. "Sorry it took so long, but I had to make a few phone calls." "Alright, Ana...what makes you think your son was kidnapped? I ran away when I was a little boy. And even if he WAS kidnapped...what makes you think your half-brother was involved? Your ex- husband could easily have been responsible." "I know my son, Mr. Cello. I know he has been kidnapped because I swung by my ex's place before I came here, they weren't there. All Peter's clothes for the weekend were there, his favorite toys. I know my ex wouldn't do this because he doesn't have the SPINE for it." "Ms. Sedai...I'll do what I can, but as an attorney, I have to tell you, we can't do much without any proof. I don't care whatchya see on the movies and TV, detectives can't just go after guys without evidence." "You saw what Justin's capable of last summer...he's a wanted man, and if he's behind this, then the police can be looking for HIM for prosecution. He's my half-brother and I love him...but I can't let my kid be somebody's leverage for negotiation while I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs." "A guy in my firm is married to a Fed who specializes in these kind of cases. But they still can't open up an investigation if they don't have any proof of who they're dealing with." "You want proof?" Ana demanded. "I also called one of Pete's friends who's a wiz on those computers. Got him to hack into the airport systems around here. Justin apparently bought two tickets to Mexico and brought a little boy Peter's age. How does a dead man get a fake passport for someone he's not related to?" Stephen bit his bottom lip, and whipped out his cell phone. "Ben...hey buddy...you with somebody there? Listen...sorry about the late hour, but I gotta case for your wife here...ok...thanks." Then he dialed another number. "AD Skinner...sorry to bother you so late, but I think I've got a case for your agents. I'll fax you the evidence in the morning." "Tell him I'm on my way downtown and I can meet him there in an hour." Ana instructed. Cello relayed the message, then turned to her. "Hell be waiting for you down there. Later Downtown D.C. Precinct "Ms. Sedai," Lt. Carillo said, hanging his head in frustration. "I'd love to help you. I really would. But my hands are tied. I can't conduct any kind of search on somebody missing until they've been gone for 24 hours. It's not my rule, ma'am...but I've gotta follow it." He really hated this part of his job. Ana turned to leave his office, but then going out the door thought of one last argument. "Lieutenant...do you have any kids?" Ana asked quietly. "Ms. Sedai, I've got two girls. They're a big reason why I'm in this desk. If they were missing I'd be wringin' my hands just like you're doin', but I STILL couldn't start looking for him for another day." "You were working last summer on a case involving my half-brother..." "Who's your half brother?" Skinner demanded. "Justin Leo, sir." Ana answered. "He got messed up in some really crazy shit and his...colleagues burned my house down. He's a wanted man, isn't he?" "Ma'am, your half-brother was associated with what happened," Skinner insisted, "but his body was never recovered. With no proof, I can't send my men out there to chase dead guys." "I see...and you CAN let a criminal escape our national borders with a little boy..." "Miss Sedai...the agents I can send are out of the country on another investigation. I'm afraid our hands our tied." "There's a lot of that going around, Mr. Skinner." she said and stormed out. Meanwhile... Reyes was trying to get hold of Skinner... ...for the fifth time... ...when her main line rang. "Monica Reyes." She said wearily. "Agent Reyes, this is Ben Starkweather." He said tiredly. "I hate to call you so late, but this couldn't wait till morning. A coworker of mine from the firm just gave me a heads up on this case involving a guy your Fellowship of the Weird investigated last summer involving a psycho who used to work for us named Justin Leo." "What about it?" "This woman whose house was burnt down courtesy of the same bad guys who kidnapped me. Leo's her step-brother." "So what does this have to do with our office?" "Leo apparently bought a coach ticket for one adult passenger and one child passenger for Mexico yesterday. Her ex had a clean sheet as far as my colleague can tell, and none of the little boy's friends had seen Peter since school that Friday. He had a game this weekend." Reyes' cell phone suddenly vibrated on her kitchen table. She recognized the caller-ID as Skinner's. "Mr. Starkweather, I appreciate the information, and I hate to cut you off, but I just got a call that I really need to take. I'll get in touch with you in the morning." "Reyes, sorry about the hour." Skinner grumbled. "I just got a newsflash from this woman claiming to be Leo's half-sister. She will be pressing kidnapping charges as soon as she's able to." "Well," Reyes hesitated, "What do you know about a Latino man who was locked up with Mulder last summer?" "Manny Ibarra...Mexican immigrant working as a county clerk." "He gave me a weather map that shows a TD headed right in the path of several islands. Including La Isla Luna Blanca." "What a clusterfuck." Skinner mumbled. "Agent Reyes, I really hate to abuse your talents, especially on a sick day, but I've just had a very interesting conversation with Ms. Sedai I think you need to be in on. We're getting on top of a search warrant for Leo and putting up an APB at the Miami airport. But I think I need to see you in my office first thing in the morning, and be prepared to fly out to Mexico ASAP." "See you first thing, sir." Reyes said with a sigh, took some cough syrup and gratefully collapsed in her bed. Later on that morning at La Isla Luna Blanca... Mulder and Malcolm were trying to look like they were casually strolling around on the massive grounds around the hotel. In reality, they were trying to locate where vehicles -- any vehicles - - might be located. "Look at that," Mulder nodded towards the trees. "How much you want to bet those trees are camouflaging giant fences." "That, my friend," Malcolm said, "is a sucker's bet. I dread to think what those fences are meant to keep out." A security guard passed them, eyeballed them, nodded curtly and continued to walk pass. Mulder and Malcolm did hear him say something into his walkie-talkie in Spanish, however. "God, I wish Starkweather was here," Mulder muttered. "That's the third guard we've past in twenty minutes. I want to know what the hell they're saying." "Is she bilingual?" "Try quadlingual." "What?" "Spanish, French, Italian and Russian." "Good Lord." Malcolm sighed, "Yes, it would be nice, but she along with Scully and Dr. Grant are on their own mission. God, I hope they're having better luck than we are." "I hope so too..." Mulder muttered darkly, "otherwise we're going to be swimming home." Meanwhile... the fun continues... On top of the roof a door opened tentatively and Doggett and Langly stepped out into the bright sunshine. As Doggett wandered around on the rooftop, hands on hips, face screwed up in a mighty frown, Langly leaned against the wall and said "I give up, where is the control room?" "Search me," Doggett grumbled. "I thought you were the expert about all this computer and communications stuff." "This ain't a very big hotel," Langly pointed out. "It's only four stories tall and most of these are gonna be mondo-luxurious rooms once they get the dorms built for the on-site park workers." "Mondo?" Langly gave Doggett a dirty look. "ANYWAY," Langly said huffily. "Like I tried to tell ya before we started this stupid search... the main communications ain't gonna be up here cuz one - they need massive amounts of room. I mean, the computers that are running the show? They ain't your standard laptops. These comps are big mo- fos. And two - why in the hell would they want to risk having the guest come dinkin' 'round and possibly screwin' with the system?" "So what's the logic of having laboratories downstairs? Clonin' monsters right below where guests possibly could come 'dinkin' 'round and possibly screwin' with the system?" Langly opened his mouth and closed it again very quickly. "I dunno man," he finally said stubbornly. "I just don't think the actual equipment running communications and security is based in the hotel. I wouldn't be a surprise if it's on another part of the island. I mean, this ain't a little island. There could be crap all over here that we don't know about." Doggett surveyed the horizon. He saw a whole lot of trees, most of them leafy, but one or two that didn't have any branches or leaves. Doggett blinked. Rubbed his eyes. "Hey Langly..." he said. "C'mere." "What?" Doggett pointed at the leafless branchless trees in the far distance. "Are those... what I THINK those are?" Langly looked, did a double take. Took off his glasses and cleaned them. "Holy schnikes. Those things look like the dinosaurs Fred Flintstone uses as a crane in the Rock Quarry." Doggett stared at Langly. "You gotta get out more often." Scully, Starkweather and Grant had spent the early morning trying to find the lab. "I don't get it..." Starkweather mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement as she studied the grounds map. "I just don't get it..." "I know he's a jack-ass sometimes," was Scully's hurried answer. Starkweather only sighed incredulously. "Ok...most of the time, but he's a good man and a good friend to have when it counts..." Starkweather put her hand up in surrender, and Scully opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again. "Scully, I was talking about the lab..." Starkweather moaned. "I don't get if they want us investigating the science of this whole thing, then why aren't we granted access to the lab, if it is at all on this whole complex. In the movie and the books it was in the basement..." "Starkweather, tell me you're not suggesting that movie was factual..." Scully protested flatly. It was like a well-rehearsed line at this point in the game. "Dr. Scully..." Grant spoke for the first time, "I should remind you that I've seen these things up close. There are real dinosaurs. Ian Malcolm saw exactly what you saw last night. The sooner you face the fact that they're here, the sooner we can figure a way off this island." "I don't doubt that the science isn't there to do it. I don't think for one minute it's not possible. I just know that such technology has constitutional sanctions which, if they do exist, are being violated." "The Constitution is our code." Grant insisted, "The Geneva Convention, the United Nations, all of it...might as well be static. Our code is bogus on this island. The only code that works on this island is the survival of the fittest." "If that's so, then why are we here to protect that code?" Scully demanded, wide-eyed. "Well...so far...let's see what we've got that was in the movie, shall we? The swank hotel...check! We're here investigating a park whose purpose is a zoo of genetically enhanced prehistoric cold-blooded lizards...check! And didn't you see a dinosaur?" "I was under the influence of a hallucinogen!" She hissed as they walked into the elevators. "Pretty much the only thing we're missing from this island that DOESN'T match up is the John Williams score serenading us and the Lion roaring at the beginning." "If it is dinosaurs that they have created here, then we need to talk to the ME on the scene." "Who says you can't go home again?" Grant quipped as they stepped onto the basement floor. Meanwhile.... Peter Sedai was hot, dirty and thirsty. And lost. Completely and totally lost. He had been wandering through the park all night and for most of the morning. He was too afraid to stop, not so much because of whatever animals may be lurking around, but more because of his uncle. Mom had been right... Uncle Justin was a rat-bastard... whatever rat-bastard meant... it just sounded bad though. Finally he saw gates up ahead and he about danced for joy. Gates meant civilization, people, telephones. He started running for the gates. When he reached his destination, he realized his situation had taken a turn for the worse again. The gates were massive, nearly 12 feet tall and looked hopelessly locked. He peered into the guard shack, his dirty nose pressed against the glass and all he saw was a sleeping security guard. With his little fist (Peter was small for his age) he rapped on the glass. "Hey!!! Hey Mister!!! Dude, man wake up!!" He pleaded. Just then, the phone rang shrilly, startling the guard awake. He grabbed the phone. "?Hola, que pasa?.... ?que? ?QUE? Dios Mios... si, si..." were the only words Peter could understand. The rest of the man's speech was spoken much too rapidly for Peter to understand. Wide-eyed, he watched the guard unlock a metal closet and take out several weapons and started loading them again. Peter thought he was going to wet his pants again. He could hear the rumbling of a truck pulling up to the gate. Peter dove into a bush that was growing next to the shack. The guard must have had some control over the gate because it swung open with a groan. The truck drove through... but it really didn't look like a truck... more like a mini-van or an ambulance. The driver got out of the van and ran over to the guard shack. The guard stepped out of his shack and both began speaking to each other in rapid-fire Spanish. Peter took his chance, pushed his way out of the bush, skulked around the guards and through the gate at a dead run. To his immense relief, he saw a building that looked like a hotel. He hoped they had telephones there. He wanted to hear his mom or his dad's voice so badly. Meanwhile Ronald Reagan International Airport Monica Reyes, in a somber gray suit and black silk blouse, wandered around the airport, looking for Skinner. She was wiping her nose with a Kleenex and carrying a small suitcase. "Good morning sir," she said, when she found him. "Our flight's been delayed," Skinner said tersely. "What??? Oh no," Reyes moaned. "There aren't any other flights? Could we get a military hop?" Skinner shook his head. "Tried. This case isn't considered high on the threat list, so the military isn't cooperating with us. We're just going to have to wait for another flight." "Great..." Reyes said, blowing her nose. "Just great." Meanwhile... "Hello?" Peter's small voice echoed through the massive halls of the hotel. "Hello??" he said nervously as he walked up the stairs. Fortunately, he didn't brush against the deadly prehistoric plants, although he did notice them and crinkled his nose. He thought they were ugly. Probably something his mom would like though. She was a manic gardener. She was so proud of the landscaping and the rose bushes. 'Was' being the operative word, since last summer, somebody put a bomb in their basement and blew their house up to kingdom come. He wasn't as upset over the house and the yard as his mother was. He knew everything in that house was replaceable, including most of his clothes, toys and books, which his father had been replenishing. They were getting a brand new house with a bigger yard, so his mom was happy. After the shock of it all, Peter realized that all of his homework for that week had been inside, so he was not heartbroken about that at all. What DID break his heart was that his beloved dog, Smokey, a grayish-white Heinz-57 mix, old and arthritic but still his best friend, didn't make it out of the house in time. Uncle Justin had promised him to buy him a new dog -- although, in his innocence, Peter didn't realize that Leo made that promise out of guilt because it was of his foul-up that prompted the Syndicate to blow Ana Sedai's modest home to smithereens. Because of that broken promise and being dragged out to this humid, beautiful hellhole in the middle of an unrelenting ocean, the seeds of first hatred began to bloom in the fertile ground of a little boy's heart. Peter wandering around until he reached a floor where a maid's cart was propping open a door. <> he thought hopefully. He walked into the room to see a maid finish up freshing the room. "Can you help me?" Peter asked in the best, politest voice he could create with his parched throat. "Lo siento, no habla ingles," the maid said apologetically. "Huh?" Peter said. The maid patted him on the head, dug in her apron pocket, gave him some Mexican candies and went on to clean the next room, closing the door behind her. She was not concerned about the little boy she left behind in the room because she thought he belonged to the visiting redheaded Americana. According to the gossip from the other employees of the resort, the redhead was with the very tall and very good-looking (ay carumba, VERY good- looking, she had gotten a peep at him earlier this morning) were together and shared a son, but were not properly married. Disgusting how immoral Americans could be at times. The maid simply assumed Peter was Mulder and Scully's child. The candies reminded Peter that he was also extremely hungry so he wolfed the sweets down. The chocolates tasted funny to him, they weren't as sweet as American chocolate was, but at this point in time, he was not picky. He went into the bathroom to get a glass of water to wash away the sticky sweetness. When he came out, he saw, in his opinion, the best thing in the whole wide world. "Cool!!" He said, totally forgetting that he was dirty and tired and miles away from home. "A puppy!!" Tummy thumped her tail on the carpet and smiled hello at the visitor. Meanwhile Scully, Starkweather and Dr. Grant wound their way through the pipes and pumps of the basement until they found a door with restricted black and yellow tape across it with a multilingual Keep Out sign. "Wonder why they've got all these restricted areas if we're gonna get the tour in a couple of hours?" Starkweather mused allowed, tugging on the ribbon. "I really don't like this..." Dr. Grant warned. "Probably don't want anybody asking any obnoxious questions...like where the Creation theory fits in this whole thing." Scully said, getting out a Swiss Army knife her father had gotten her as a little kid. "Scully, you really think it's a great idea to go in there uninvited?" "We were assigned to this panel to give our professional opinion of the medical facilities, weren't we? How are we expected to do that if we don't even see anything they're doing?" Whatever Dr. Grant had to say next was a moot point, because by now, Starkweather had already jimmied the lock and entered. They walked in on a sterile research center in a giant complex. There was a comprehensive DNA research library, controlled ecosystems set up in aquariums being observed. "Damn...I forgot to tell the boys to feed Mulder's fish before we left..." Scully mumbled when she saw the aquarium. "Probably would have forgotten about it, anyway, Scully." Starkweather reminded him. Then they saw test tubes and test tubes of specimens at different stages of cellular development. "Instant dino...just add water..." Starkweather mumbled as she leafed through some of the latest genetic research publications. "Wonder where all the lab techs are?" Scully asked, booting up one of the state-of-the-art Macs. "Probably having a hard time getting even interns to work at this place." Starkweather answered, looking for any kind of research log she could find, but otherwise standing around in awe like a little kid at a zoo. "Without any government funding, they're going to be hard-pressed to get internship programs to send their students here. I think that's why they want you and Agent Scully here. So they can ask for Government funding." Dr. Grant said with a twinge of unease in his voice. He really didn't like the idea of being down here. "Sooner we find what we looking for, we can get the hell outta here." Starkweather answered, sensing Dr. Grant's unease. "Exactly what are we looking for, Starkweather?" "I think I found it." Scully said from behind one of the Macs. "Whatever you found," Christie Carter growled. No one had heard anyone coming in. She was looming at the doorway, wielding a .38 caliber pistol. "I suggest you put it back and forget about whatever it was you saw." Scully, Starkweather, and Dr. Grant both froze, feeling a little like kids caught with their hands in the cookiejar. With a click, Christie Carter cocked her weapon. Meanwhile... Malcolm and Mulder, dejected, walked out of the elevator. "We've seen them driving them around all over the park," Mulder bitched. "Where in the hell could all the vehicles be stored?" "Obviously somewhere where we are not welcomed," Malcolm sighed. "Couldn't you have used some of your FBI persuasion to get past the guards?" They had wandered all the way down to the guard shack, only to be escorted back to the hotel by two angry guards. "I'm not a federal agent anymore," Mulder said with his own sigh. "I'm a persona non grata... a politician." "I'm sorry." "S'ok, I like my new office. I can see daylight." Mulder unlocked the door to his room. "Well, want to break into the honor bar with me?" "Gladly," Malcolm said and was about to follow Mulder in but he had stopped stock-still in the doorway. "What is it?" "Not what... who," Mulder pointed to a very dirty Peter Sedai, asleep on his bed with Tummy curled up next to him. Meanwhile... Ronald Reagan National Airport Washington DC "Final boarding for Dallas... final boarding for Dallas, Texas," the flight attendant announced. Reyes and Skinner made their way through the line and into the plane. "I can't believe this garbage," Skinner snarled. "So much for our direct flight," Reyes mumbled through a wad of Kleenex. The best that they could do was catch a flight to Dallas, then catch a flight to Denver, CO, then catch another flight to Phoenix, Arizona, and THEN catch another flight, the final flight to Mexico City, Mexico to meet with the Mexican feds on how to deal with this fiasco. "All flights to Mexico are being re-routed Reyes," Skinner said as he settled into his seat. "Because of that storm that's coming. The forecasters say it's going to hit Cozumel at about 4PM, our time." "Which means it'll hit La Luna Blanca roughly at 4:30," Reyes sneezed. "Have Frohike and Byers found anything yet?" "Nothing," Skinner said, fastening his seat belt. "Get comfortable Reyes, and try to sleep." Reyes rested her head against the seat and longed for the days when it was perfectly acceptable to drink until you stink while on an airplane. Meanwhile... Mulder hovered over the sleeping boy. Tummy lifted her head, grinned at Mulder and barked once, waking Peter. "Hi," Mulder said cheerfully. Peter, bewildered, stared at Mulder. "I've seen you on TV," he said, scootching away from him on the bed. "The news said that you were arrested for killing someone," Peter began to shake. Mulder looked at Malcolm, who shrugged as if to say "This problem is all yours, buddy." "What's your name kiddo?" Peter bristled at being called 'kiddo' "Peter Malcolm Sedai." "Peter, how old are you?" "I'll be nine on October 13." "Wow, when I was nine, I didn't watch the news. I was out playing baseball and climbing trees." "We've only got one TV right now," Peter said. "When Mom's watchin' the news, I don't have a choice." "Ah... then did you watch the news when they said they made a mistake and that I didn't kill anyone?" Mulder gently asked him. Peter shook his head. "And do you know how they figured it out that I didn't kill anybody?" Peter shook his head again. "Because the man they said I killed is married to my sister. And that man is still alive." "Oh," Peter said. "And my sister came with me to this island. I don't think she'd be hanging out with anyone who would have killed her husband, would you?" "But you don't have any proof," Peter said stubbornly. "I don't see any sister here," he challenged him. Mulder grinned. <> he thought wryly <> "Peter, do you know what Honor is?" "It's what you call the judge when you go into his courtroom," Peter said confidentially. "My mom is going to law school right now." "Well, that's right, but there's more to it than that." Mulder controlled his face, not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings by laughing out loud. Mulder chose his next words very carefully. "I judge people by how truthful they are. Since I decide whether or not I like someone because if they are honest or not, I must live my life as an honest man. I try very very hard Peter to do the right thing. I try especially hard to be truthful. I spent most of my grown up life trying to catch bad people who tell lies that hurt others. If I were to lie, Peter, that would take away some of my Honor, the stuff that helps me be a good person. And I want to be a good person, I HAVE to be a good person, especially now, because I have a little boy of my own. And the only way that I can be a good dad to my little boy is if I'm a good person. But I can't be a good person if I don't have any Honor. So, Peter, what I guess I'm saying is, you're just going to have to trust me that I'm a good person and that I'm not lying to you. Because I honestly don't have any other proof that I'm telling the truth except for my Honor." Mulder watched Peter absorb his words. "Well... if you're really a good person... can you help me get home?" "How DID you get here anyway?" Malcolm asked, then quickly added "And I'm a good guy too. So, don't freak out on me, okay?" "'Kay," Peter said. "Well... I was supposed to go to my dad's house 'cause Dad and Mom don't live together anymore," he said sullenly. "But then my uncle Justin got into the car instead of my dad and he took me to the airport, saying that he was going to take me to an amusement park... but I don't know what this place is. There's no roller coasters, no Scramblers, no nuthin'," Peter started to sound angry. "Some weird animals went past our truck and then I asked him if it was true that he hurt a lady like the TV news said an' he told me to shut up and in his line of work, sometimes people got hurt and then I ran away." "Nice guy," Malcolm said under his breath. But Mulder felt a lurch in his stomach. "Peter," he said carefully. "What's your uncle's last name?" "Leo," the boy said innocently. "Why?" Mulder put his hand over his mouth. "This is a bad thing, I take it?" Malcolm asked. "This is a VERY bad thing," Mulder said, getting up. "I have to step out for a little bit. Can you watch him?" "No problem, I like kids. I've got one back home. Little girl, great kid. Gymnastics nut. But where are you going?" "I need to find Starkweather," Mulder said. "And let her know that the moose is loose." Meanwhile... "Ms. Carter, is this really necessary?" Dr. Grant implored. "Bullets are VERY expensive." "Oh absolutely. This is a restricted area. You're not supposed to be here. If anyone is where they're not supposed to be, I get fired." "We're already here." Starkweather reminded her sardonically. "You might loose your job whether we put away this evidence or not. I think I'd rather expose this place, wouldn't you Scully?" "Oh God! I'm gonna get fired! I'm gonna work in a place where I hafta where a paper ha-ha-ha-hat! I can NOT where a paper hat...I'm allergic! I'm too CUTE to be fired!" Scully reached behind her to whip out her own firearm. She didn't aim it, nor did she take the safety off. "Oh God...I'm gonna die." Christie panicked. She shakily pointed a gun at Scully "Somebody gotta paper bag? I'm hyperventilating. I'm too DAMN CUTE TO DIE!" "You don't think we're actually gonna use this old thing, are ya, Ms. Carter?" Scully teased. "No...she's not worth the hassle to clean-up." Starkweather answered. "Well, if we don't kill her, I'm sure the dinosaurs will have her for a snack later on in the tour." Grant added, playing along. "Dinosaurs...no, there aren't any dinosaurs on this island!" She protested back shakily, putting her finger on the trigger. "Bet she tastes just like chicken." Starkweather quipped with an evil grin. "Maybe all that hairspray she's wearing will act as some kind of...repellant." "Of course," Scully reminded, "If we can gather evidence against this lab, then you can get off the island with your employment record intact. Then maybe you can live out your tenure as tour guide of Disneyland or something." "I am NOT going to be intimidated by you-you-you people!" Ms. Carter exploded. "I think it's best for everyone's interests if you just drop whatever it is you're holding and forget what you found here. If I see you people in restricted areas again, I will not have any hesitation to take you off the tour and send you on the next plane back to the States. IS THAT CLEAR?" "Don't come crying to us if we have no way of defending you against the dinosaurs." Grant warned. "Good. We have an understanding again." Ms. Carter transformed into her overly perky original self. "I'll see everyone at the brunch in an hour." Starkweather, Grant, and Scully marched out of the lab. Starkweather, being in the back, heard her on her walkie-talkie with the head guard. "What the hell do you clowns think you're doing, giving me a water pistol?!" She hissed as she was sure they were out of the basement level. Meanwhile... Doggett and Langly stared, slack jawed in the distance at what appeared to be fully alive and functioning creatures from an era bygone. "Let's get out of here before someone notices," Doggett finally said. "And act surprised on the tour." He started to walk away. Langly was too stupefied to move so with a sigh, Doggett returned, grabbed Langly by the shirt collar and literally dragged him back inside. They had made it to their floor just in time to see Mulder rush out of his hotel room and march straight for the elevators. "Hey, Mul-duh," Doggett called out. "Where's the fire?" Mulder turned around and walked quickly towards them. "Things just went from shitty to really shitty," Mulder said crisply. "Someone just crashed our party." "Who?" "Justin Leo." "That rat-bastard?" Langly cried out. "Man, he made Krycek look like a Boy Scout." "God damn it, I wish I hadna hit my head when we all jumped into the river," Doggett said, referring to when the escape from the burning warehouse where Ben Starkweather had been held captive. "I can not for the life of me remember anything from when Ben Stawk - weddah was kidnapped." Of course, Doggett didn't realize that he had inadvertently been part of the top secret 'Quantum Leap' time travel project at that time. Mulder opened his mouth to tell him and then shut it just as quick. He'd explain some other time. "Justin Leo is delusional and a liar. He's a pawn for the Syndicate. His one true love-" "Gag," Langly interjected. "- Lilly Stratford was allegedly abducted by extraterristials-" "Ah Gawd, not that extraterrestrial-abduction bullshit theory again," Doggett interrupted, groaning. "- and, for whatever reasons, he is obsessed with Agent Starkweather." "Why?" Langly said, bristling at the fact that there was ANOTHER person obsessing over the object of his affection. "He believes that Starkweather is Lilly Stratford." "Oh Christ's sake," Doggett groaned again. "Well... I hate to ask, but, could it possible?" Langly ventured. "I mean... Starkweather's adopted and all. She don't know her real family... well... I mean... she knows YOU... but..." "Not possible Langly," Mulder said. "Two reasons. One, Lilly Stratford was abducted in Virginia on the same day Starkweather started Day One, Phase One of her Basic Training for the United States Air Force at Lackland AFB. Two, Lilly Stratford is a natural blond. Starkweather," here Mulder smirked, "is not." "As interesting as Agent Starkweather's hair is," Doggett rumbled, "I say we go find her. And everyone else... Langly and I didn't find any computers... but we saw something pretty damn unbelievable." "Do I want to know?" Mulder asked. Before Doggett could answer, the elevator doors slid open and out walked Scully, Starkweather and Grant. "We've got problems," Starkweather said. "You don't say," Mulder said sarcastically. "Starkweather," Doggett said "Justin Leo's on the island." "WHAT?!?!?!?!" She shrieked. "Are you sure?" "I thought he was dead?" Scully asked. "Who's Justin Leo?" Grant asked. "How do you know?" Starkweather demanded. "Well, I was hopin' Mul-duh here'd explain that," Doggett turned to him. "You never got 'round to that part." "Let me show you," Mulder said, "this way," and he escorted everyone to his hotel room. He unlocked the door and let everyone else go inside. Mulder shut the door behind him and locked it. Malcolm was trying to teach Peter how to play chess. "No no no no Peter. You CAN'T move that piece yet." "Why not? It's cool. I like horses," Peter was more interested in playing with the game pieces from Malcolm's traveling chess set rather than learning the game. Peter then noticed Mulder and grinned broadly. "Hi!" "THIS," Mulder nodded at the dirty little boy, "is how I know." "So... what does that mean?" Starkweather looked at Mulder, arching her eyebrows. "Leo shrunk?" "Hey, Pete, c'mere for a second," Mulder waved the boy over. Peter slid off the chair and trotted over to him. "Hey, remember how I was telling you my sister came with me?" "Yeah, uh huh." "Well," Mulder reached for Starkweather's hand and pulled her from the group. "This is my sister. Jerilyn Starkweather." "Hi," Starkweather crouched down to the boy, still not sure what was going on but she went with Mulder's lead. "And what's your name?" "Peter. Peter Sedai." "Peter, why don't you ask Mrs. Starkweather what you asked me," Mulder prodded him gently. But Peter was studying Starkweather's face intently. "I 'member your name," he whispered. "I heard it on the TV. The news guy said that my uncle hurt a lady... a lady cop when she caught him breaking into an apartment of a f-f-f" Peter struggled with the word, "Fem- mer- all agent." He looked at Starkweather. "Was that you???" Starkweather felt the blood draining from her face and into her feet. "Is your uncle Justin Leo?" "Yeah... he brought me here. A surprise or something. But I wanna go home. Mr. Malcolm said all the phones are broken or something. So, when you guys go home, can I go with or do I have to wait for the next ride?" he asked. "You can come with us," Scully said, joining Starkweather. "I'm a federal agent too. We'll make sure you'll get home safely. But first what we need to do," Scully switched into "Mama" mode. "Is get you cleaned up. Come on, let's get you in the bath tub." "Awww," Peter said with true little boy aplomb. "I'm not THAT dirty." His face was almost black with grime except where sweat had streaked down it. His clothes were filthy and smelled of dirt, humidity and fear. He looked at his hands. "Well, maybe I better wash my hands before lunch. When IS lunch????? I missed breakfast. Do they have pizza here?" He asked hopefully. Starkweather tried not to laugh. "I don't know. We'll find out for you," she promised him as Scully led him off into the bathroom. "I don't want a GIRL helpin' me," he protested, stopping short of the door, folding his arms. "Here," Doggett said. "I can do it. My name is John Doggett," he introduced himself solemnly. "Are you a fem- mer- all agent too?" "Yes sir, I am." "And you get to travel and carry a gun and stuff?" "Sometimes." "Wow!!!" Peter said. "I wanted to be an astronaut but a fem- mer- all agent sounds way cooler!" he ran into the bathroom with Tummy on his heels. "Do fem- mer- all agents all wear the same suits?" While Doggett disappeared into bathroom to run a bath for the boy (who was now sitting on the toilet, chattering merrily to Doggett a mile a minute) Scully opened Mulder's suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt. "There's a laundry room down the hall," she said. "I'm going to wash the boy's clothes quick..." As if on cue, Peter's clothes flew out the door and there was an enormous splash. Doggett came out, soapy and wet. "Well..." he said, "now what?" Meanwhile... Andrea Nowark sat in front of the mirror, meticulously applying the last of her makeup. She was, despite her unpleasant demeanor, an extremely beautiful woman, with the help of fine cosmetics, designer clothes and one or two "minor" surgeries. She was touching up her lipstick when she heard the click of the door unlocking but she did not turn around. "You're late," she purred, closing her lipstick tube. "You're absolutely gorgeous," a man's voice said silkily as he shut and locked the door behind him. "You're forgiven," finally Andrea stood up to face Justin Leo. As she was a fairly tall woman, they could almost see eye-to-eye. Like a cobra, she wound herself around him, slowly, seductively, smiling like a snake before the kill. Leo did nothing to dissuade her. In fact, her body, nice and lean in the right places, nice and soft in the other right places, reminded in little painfully that it had been awhile since he knew the Biblical pleasures of a woman. But business first... although, even before he became an outlaw, Leo had been notorious for mixing pleasure with business. After a nice, deep kiss that promised more, Andrea, sounding like the spoiled child that she was, pouted "What took you so long?" She traced her finger down his hard chest and flat belly, fiddled a bit with his belt buckle and then stepped away from you. "I had a horrible night." "I ran into a problem." "What kind of problem," Andrea sat on the bed and crossed her legs a la Sharon Stone of "Basic Instinct" fame. "My nephew. He's lost." Any desire Andrea may had been building up for Leo dissipated instantly. "WHAT??" "He's lost," he said, forgetting that Andrea could go from sex kitten to stone cold bitch in zero-point-two seconds. "You mean you lost him." "I MEAN," Leo snapped, towering over her, fists clenching,"we were attacked by some god-awful thing in that park, Schabasser never showed up and we got fucked over, plain and simple." "I knew we should have never trusted Schabasser," she hissed. "The man is an idiot." "Well, he's our fall guy," Leo said. "If this park, this plan goes to shit, he's going to be the pansy that the FBI's gonna pin it on. You're just a victim, like the others and me?? Me, I'm dead." "You don't seem overly concerned about the boy." Leo sighed. "The boy is in safe keeping. He found the federal agents." "WHAT????" Now Andrea stood up, furious. "Dammit, he's going to tell the feds that YOU brought him here." "That doesn't matter!" Leo whispered angrily. "They're all going to be dead soon anyway. They aren't leaving this island. Just remember Andrea," Leo said seriously, touching her face sensuously, "do NOT go on that tour. Cook up a headache, menstrual cramps, something... stay in the hotel. Stay in your room until I come and get you." "What about the boy?" "I'll take him during the walking tour, when they're in the petting zoo," Leo said. "Easy. Then the group gets distracted, starts looking for him and then," he clapped his hands. "Munch." "No one told me what we needed this damn kid for anyway," Andrea said sullenly. "Schabasser's being a pompous ass." "That's because Schabasser thinks he's going to walk away clean," Leo said grimly. "Andrea, have you ever seen the Disney movie "The Rescuers"?" "I don't watch cartoons," she sneered. "You've heard of the Syndicate, right?" He asked. When she shook her head he said "The Syndicate is an organization more powerful than the Mafia. They have... or HAD their finger in every government pie, until that rogue agent Fox Mulder AKA the benevolent Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder took over the X-Files. The Syndicate once held a prize, a treasure, worth more than dollars, more than diamonds, more that the dinosaurs." "What could be worth more than that?" "Life," Leo said. "The key to life itself." "I don't understand." "It can't be explained Andrea. It's not to be explained. The best I can say is it's like a Rosetta Stone... for DNA. For ALL living creatures, past, present... and possibly future. ALL living, Andrea. Plant, Animal, Viruses, Cancers, Diseases... and the cures... An Unigen scientist who was working for the Syndicate discovered this treasure. He made two copies, on diskettes. Gave one to a close friend who attempted to give it to Agent Scully, and failed. The second copy... he put in a fireproof briefcase and threw it down on of the caves on this island. On the other side of the island, near the Control Bunker, are a group of caves. We've pinpointed the exact cave that this treasure had been deposited." "I still," Andrea said huffily, "don't understand where the boy comes in... or the reference to a freakin' Disney movie." "In 'The Rescuers'" Leo said patiently, "the villains kidnapped a little girl because she was small enough to squeeze down a hole in the ground to a massive cave where a pirate's treasure was hidden. Peter..." he took a breath, "Peter is small enough to squeeze down a hole in the ground to the cave where the briefcase is." "Is it safe? For the kid?" "Hey, that kid is my nephew. My half-sister would track me down and kill me like a dog if I let anything happen to Peter." "The FBI and CIA can't find you but your sister could?" she purred. "You don't know Ana," Leo muttered. This satisfied Andrea. "And, I listened to you and told my broker sell most of my Unigen stock today," she smiled. Leo smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Good girl," he purred back at her. "Very good girl. Sell enough to make a killing, but not enough to alert the feds." "And this 'treasure'...?" "Will change the world," Leo kissed her suggestively. "I'd hate to mess up your makeup job but..." Andrea shrugged and began working on Leo's shirt buttons. "We have an hour before the luncheon... brunch... whatever... there's time," she fiddled with his belt buckle again, only this time undoing it. Leo felt a pang of guilt, thinking of Lilly... but then remembered that she had given up on him and married another. With that thought firing his madness, he gave in to Andrea's courtesan's tricks. Meanwhile... United Flight 0121 En route to Denver, CO.... Reyes normally liked kids. But the combination of fretting about her friends possibly trapped on an island in the path of a tropical storm plus her plugged up sinuses made her want to leap over her seat, grab the kid who was kicking her chair by his throat and throttle him. "Timmy..." his mother said for the fifth time in her syrupy singsong voice, "Mommy wants you to stop kicking that nice lady's chair." "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!!!" the kid yelled. Reyes gritted her teeth. Skinner was working on his sleek Hewlett-Packard notebook computer, "Reyes, look at this..." "Hm..." "Frohike and Byers just emailed me. They hacked into the New York Stock Exchange... three major stockholders just unloaded some of their Unigen stock. Not enough to alert the regulators to inside trading but enough to raise my suspicions." "What do you mean?" "How does a dead man sell stock?" "Leo," Reyes said instantly. "He isn't dead." "We never had confirmation of his death," Skinner corrected her. Reyes closed her eyes, trying to get in tune with herself so she could intercept the celestial vibrations of others' lives. The only vibrations she got were the shaking of her chair from the chubby little brat sitting behind her. "BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED!!!" the kid sang loudly, off key. "Timmy, read your books, snookums." "Excuse me sir," Reyes said through gritted teeth. She turned around and looked down at the seven-year-old pork chop with the bucktooth. "Little boy, please stop kicking my chair," she asked as politely as she could. "See Timmy," his mother in her cloying sweet sugary voice, "You've upset the lady and she's got a bad cold so be nice, poopsie." Reyes was pretty sure her gag reflex wasn't being triggered by her illness or airsickness. "Sir, I would not," she said when she turned around, "doubt in the slightest bit that Justin Leo is alive. The drop from the roof of the warehouse to the river was not that high. Starkweather, Mulder and Doggett survived the jump. Why not Leo?" "Well, there's more," Skinner pushed his computer over so Reyes could see. "Looks like some of the panel members have a conflict of interest." "Roald Schabasser, that's not a surprise," she mumbled, reading on. "Andrea Nowark... well, she unloaded quite a bit." "And they'll both say it was because they had no confidence in the park rather than to make a killing before the park folds." "I sense a scam," Reyes said. "Sir, you may think I'm crazy-" "Agent Reyes, I've worked with Fox Mulder for nearly eight years. Trust me, no matter what comes out of your mouth will sound sane compared to what he'd have to say." "I think-" thud thud thud thud thud. The horrible monster of a child had begun to kick her chair again. "I think-" thud thud thud thud thud. "I think I'm going to commit child abuse," she turned around. "PLEASE STOP," she said firmly to the boy. "Oh, for heaven's sake," his mother tsked. "There's no need to get NASTY. Timmy, change seats with me, NOW." After mother and son exchanged seats, Reyes continued with her very Muldereque leap. "I think the amusement park is just a cover-up for a larger conspiracy. I think Unigen got its mitts on a very powerful technology. I think the dinosaurs, be they cloned or genetically altered already existing animals, I think they're covering something else up. Plus this cover-up is making them a lot of money, so either why, for them, it's a win-win situation." Skinner started to ask, "But-" however, the little brat started kicking his chair. "But-" thud thud thud thud thud thud. "But-" thud thud thud thud thud. Skinner turned around and glowered at the boy "THAT'S ENOUGH!!!" he barked. Several passengers turned their heads toward him in surprise. The boy turned white and started to cry noisily. The mother squawked at him "You have no right to speak to my little boy like that mister!" Skinner turned his flinty glare from the boy to her and scowled, holding up his FBI badge. By this time, Reyes had also turned around and followed suit, holding her badge up with murder flashing in her normally friendly coffee-brown eyes. "Timmy," she said in a normal voice, "shut up." Timmy instantly stopped bawling. Later on... Hotel De La Luna Blanca The banquet room 11:00 Central Time Grant and Malcolm were the first to come down. Grant, as usual, defied convention by wearing a denim shirt (albeit it was pressed neatly, a pair of well-loved khakis and sneakers. Malcolm was dressed in everlasting black shirt, black slacks, black socks, black shoes, black glasses. "Nice..." Malcolm said, admiring the mahogany woodwork and marble floors. "Very very nice. Too bad the dinosaurs are going to re-take the island and destroy this. I'm sure Unigen spent quite a bit of the coin to make this place tres elegante." "But where did Unigen get the money for this?" Grant asked. "The same place where they got the technology to clone the monsters, I am assuming, although when you 'assume' you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me" - so let me say I am reckoning. I hope the usage of the word "reckon" does not sound rednecked." "But the technology was destroy when InGen went under," Grant muttered. "You're 'assuming'," Malcolm said with an impish grin. "Ah!" he said, turning around. "Miss Nowark, lovely to see you." Andrea Nowark inclined her head towards them, eyeballing Grant's disgraceful outfit. "Dr. Malcolm, Dr. Grant," she said formally, as she walked briskly by in a whoosh of silk stockings and Chanel No 5 perfume. She sat down at the baby grand piano in the corner and started to play "Fur Elise" flawlessly and yet oddly passionately. "She's got a nice ass," Malcolm muttered to Grant. "Pretty face." Grant spoke without moving his lips, pretending to admire a painting. "Nice perfume." "Not bad." "No, really not bad at all." "Pity she's a bitch." "Yes, it's a shame. Although if she were to sit naked on my lap-" The entrance of Mulder, Scully and Peter, who was talking a mile a minute, interrupted Malcolm's lewd fantasy. "... and then like Anakin speeds up his pod-racer you know and the crowd is like, uh, you know and then VROOM, he goes REAL fast and beats the Dug and everyone's happy and cool and stuff and Padme, who's really Queen Amidala, but nobody knows that yet is like all excited. And the Jedi Master gets to free Anakin but not his mom and then-" "Help," Mulder said jokingly to Grant and Malcolm. "Ready for our Last Meal," Malcolm asked him. "Always an optimist." "Where is everyone else?" Grant asked. "Starkweather and Doggett were talking," Scully said. Suddenly she felt a small body press closer to her. She crouched down, "What's the matter Peter?" Peter whispered in her ear. "I don't think that lady playing the piano likes kids very much. She's starin' at me funny..." Scully looked up at Andrea and glared at her in disgust. <> Scully fumed. Andrea folded her lips tightly together and continued to butcher one of Beethoven's masterpieces. Meanwhile - Doggett and Starkweather's room "Promise me, Starkweather," Doggett yelled from inside the bathroom, over the roar of the shower streaming down. "Dammit Doggett," Starkweather said as she changed her clothes for the second time that day, a simple sky blue sundress that was more fitting for a semi-formal brunch than her usual casual gear. "I'm an FBI agent just like you, urg, fucking pantyhose." She cursed as she said performed several unladylike adjustments to make sure her hosiery would not creep into unwelcoming crevices. "I am NOT a baby. Or a fool. Or a wimp." The shower turned off. "I don't think you're a baby, a fool or a wimp." Doggett's voice was muffled as he toweled himself off. "Then stop treating me that way!" "Starkweather, Justin Leo on this damn island changes everything!" The door creaked open just enough for Doggett's arm to stick out. "Can you hand me my clothes?" Starkweather handed him the neatly pressed black Dockers and white T-shirt. "My boxers too, please?" "I REALLY don't want to touch your skivvies, Doggett." "They're clean, they ain't gonna bite you," Doggett shook his hand urgently. "Come on Doc, we're already late." "Well, take your time, I still have to do my hair." "Jesus, woman!! Just run a comb through it. It'll look fine." "Excuse me, but I have about twelve more inches of hair to deal with than you. You don't JUST run a comb through long hair." "Oh for the love of.... gimme my damn shorts!!!" Using the nails of her forefinger and thumb, she gingerly picked up the boxers and handed them to Doggett, who snatched them from her. "Doggett, quit being such a damn worrywart. I can handle myself." "I KNOW you can handle yourself. Can you handle Leo?" "Doggett!! You don't even REMEMBER what happened that week Ben vanished. I **DO**. The fucking psycho broke into my apartment. He shot my neighbor Beth the cop when she caught him IN MY HOME red-handed! Plus I MET Leo, up close and personal, on the rooftop of the warehouse. I thought he was going to kill me. He was definitely going to kill you or Mulder. Should I wear my hair up or down or in a braid or what?" "Wear it down. Look," Doggett walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed. "Starkweather, I just want you to be extra careful. That's all... what are you staring at?" He had noticed that Starkweather was studying him thoroughly while brushing her hair. "I didn't know you were good looking." "Oh thanks a lot." "Fine then! Last time I give YOU a compliment, Puppy-Man." "God, Hurricane you're a pain in the ass." "Don't call me a Hurricane..." "You promise me you'll stick to me like glue? No wandering' off? No looking' for trouble? And don't bitch to me like triton' you like an idiot, I'm not tryin' to, but sometimes the Mulder in ya just takes control of your common sense and you get into trouble." "Oh that was a low blow." "Agent Starkweather..." "Oh, here we go..." "...as your partner, plus your superior..." "Gag." "... I order you to stay with me at all times. Is that clear Agent?" "All times? I don't want to have to watch you pee and I don't think Ben will understand if I shower with you." "I'm gonna hit you." "Relax Doggett," Starkweather's eyes twinkled micheviously. "I promise to be very very good." "You're full of shit." "Let's go," Starkweather said. "I wanna see Schabasser sweat. I think that weasel's up to something, we haven't seen hide nor hair of him all day..." The Banquet Hall... Doggett and Starkweather was the last to arrive, mostly because Starkweather decided at the very last possible minute to put her hair up. But she didn't put it up in her normal military-tight bun at the nape of her neck, she pulled up in a soft chignon with little wispies framing her face. Mulder, Grant and Malcolm, with pained smiled on their faces were politely listening to Andrea pound out Pachabel's "Canon" on the baby grand. Langly and Peter were huddled in the corner, playing some hand-held game Langly brought along. Scully, with a face as bored as Mulder, Grant and Malcolm's, was politely listening to Dr. Wick describe the intricate process of the fertilization of dandelions. "Hey, look who showed up!" Mulder said, grateful for a distraction. "We were just listening to Andrea play." All three men turned to her with a "Help Us" look on their faces. "I noticed," Starkweather drawled, giving Andrea a look of pure loathing. Andrea returned the glare times two. "Hey, my sister plays the piano," Mulder said, as if he just thought of it. Actually, she played several instruments, all by ear. "Jerilyn, why don't you play something... PLEASE." "Um..." "You play?" Andrea purred. "Who taught you? How long have you taken lessons? **I** was trained by a classic pianist, works now as an instructor for the Havard Music Department. And you were taught by...???" "Nobody. I was a Naval brat. We moved too much. I kind of just picked up on it. Fumbled through songs by ear..." "Starkweather," Doggett mumbled a warning. "Oh really," Andrea rose. "How fascinating. Well, **I** would love to hear something," she graciously rose. "I thought about pursuing a music career, but I succumbed to my first love of architecture plus, well, I'm not a very good singer..." Starkweather smirked, "Oh, you're not???" She sat down. "Gosh... Andrea, could you point out Middle C for me? I ALWAYS forget." Doggett groaned. Mulder smirked. Meanwhile... La Villa Guidonia 30 minutes outside of Mexico City Roald Schabasser was not worried that his associate wouldn't safely find his way to his destination. Justin Leo was a very driven man. He had a nasty reputation for being careless, but he was driven...and that made him an important asset. He stressed the consequences of failure to Leo before the team headed out of the country. The man he was relaying information to was a very powerful Lord. A man who held more power than money. He had the ability to take away memory. Like you never existed. Leo had turned white when Schabasser had told wild tales of how men disappeared without a trace, only to come up dead months later or crazy...wandering aimlessly. Schabasser knew that Leo would not fail at any costs. All Schabasser had to do was assure the old man who took memories that the briefcase was coming and show him the stock portfolios. It would be easy to get away. He knew that he wouldn't be missed till after the brunch. Till then, he would explain that he was engaged elsewhere by investors. That was a half-truth. The man he was waiting for was a very important figure who had a very large stake in the quality of life his family had. Well--at least his capabilities in making alimony payments when the divorce papers were drawn up. "Senor, se credo?" "Yes...it is true. I swear to you the briefcase will be here manana." "And the money?" The man asked slowly. "See for yourself the size of this portfolio, sir." Schabasser said with a grand gesture in the general direction of the documents spread across the desk. "Y los federales? "There are monsters sir. Monsters who will make sure they will not get off the island. And if they don't, the storm will." "Good." The man said, lighting up his cigar. "And the progress. Do not forget. Bring me the DNA." Roald Schabasser left without a nod, without looking back, and made his way towards the helicopter pad. He glanced at his watch. He would make it back just in time for brunch. Back at La Luna Blanca Andrea, very patronizingly, reached over and hit Middle C. The lone note resonated throughout the hall. "Thanks!" Starkweather chirped and her fingers attacked the keys with precision and passion. Her voice, clear as a bell, rose above piano chords: "Excuse me but can I be you for a while my DOG won't bite if sit real still I got the anti-Christ in the kitchen yellin' at me again yeah I can hear been saved again by the garbage truck I got something to say but NOTHING comes yeah I know what you think of me, you never shut up..." (this line was directed at Andrea with a smirk) "...yeah I can hear that but what if I'm a mermaid in these jeans of his with her name still on it hey but I don't care cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my voice and it's been HERE silent all these years... "So you found a girl with really deep thoughts what's so amazing about really deep thoughts boy you best pray I bleed real soon how's that thought for you my scream got lost in a paper cup you think there's a heaven where some screams have gone I got 25 bucks and a cracker do you think that's enough to get us there cause what if I was a mermaid in these jeans of his with her name still on it hey but I don't care cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my voice and it's been HERE silent all these... "Years go by will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand years go by if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining on my head years go by will I choke on my tears until finally there's nothing left one more casualty you we're too easy easy easy "Well I love the way we communicate your eyes focus on my funny lip shape lets hear what you think of me now but don't look up the sky is falling your mother shows up in a nasty dress it's your turn to stand now where I stand everyone lookin' at you here take a hold of my hand yeah I can hear them cause what if I was a mermaid in these jeans of his with her name still on it hey but I don't care cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my voice and it's been HERE silent all these... I've been here silent all these years silent all these.... silent all these years silent all these years." Starkweather turned to Andrea. "Not bad for by ear, huh?" Langly exclaimed "Tori rocks!" "Someone got a karaoke machine for Christmas last year." Andrea smirked to Wick. It was a natural reaction for anyone who is thoroughly devoid of personality "Now she's done it." Mulder groaned. "Prepare to be put to sleep by the great composers..." "Don't tell me you don't love Classical music, Mulder." Scully snorted in mock surprise. "My background in classical music extends only to Warner Brothers cartoons." "Figures." Scully snorted. A low base chord began to thunder from the grand piano. "Mulder, you aren't going to go join her in Heart and Soul?" Andrea chided. "Hey, Pete" Mulder said to the little boy, "Why don't you go with Doggett to see if you can scout out what we're gonna have for brunch?" At a questioning look from both Scully and Andrea, Mulder waited for the shrill ring of the high octaves from Starkweather. "I got him to leave so I could do this" He said, emphasizing the end of his conversation with Andrea with an obscene gesture. Scully was only mildly successful in hiding her reaction to the whole scene. Wick laughed at first, and then remembering his place, sobered up when Andrea flashed him an evil glare. Langly, Malcolm, and Grant were all doubling over laughing. Starkweather, meanwhile, imagined the whole scene behind her playing out, and barely managed to keep her composure well enough to get through the first movement of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata. By the time she got to the second movement Langly had fished his lighter from his pocket, and waved it high, only slightly aware of the odd looks he was receiving from the rest of the crowd. "What?" he exclaimed, "That's a Phish song! They rock!" Meanwhile... Denver International Airport... Skinner remembered why he hated the airport in Denver. It was one giant maze. And full of people. "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me... MOVE IT!!" he yelled as he pushed past people, inadvertently hitting them with his carry-on duffel bag and his briefcase. "Sorry!! AH-CHOO!" Sorry!!" Reyes apologized as she tried to keep up with her boss, the heels of her boots clicking like tap dancer's shoes as she ran. "Watch where you're going!!" A shrill voice hollered after them. "Where's the AH-CHOO!!! terminal!" Reyes yelled. "This way," Skinner said, charging full steam ahead. This was not Reyes' idea of fun. Her head ached, her body ached, she wanted a shot of Nyquil and her bed. But her concern for her friends pushed her on, even as she made a mental note to herself that once she and Skinner got their asses off that rock in the middle of the ocean, they were SO going to owe her big time. The way she looked at it, she wasn't going to have to buy herself a beer until April of 2002 at least. "Reyes!" Skinner shouted, "over here!" They ran to the gate just as the attendant was shutting the door to the terminal. "Oh no...." Reyes whined. "Ma'am, you've got to let us on that plane," Skinner said, pulling rank and pulling out his FBI badge. "It's official FBI business." "I- I- I'm sorry sir," she stammered, for she truly was a nice lady. "I would, but I can't, the plane's already pulling away from the terminal." She pointed her finger as sure enough, the plane that Reyes and Skinner needed to be on started cruising down the runaway. As Skinner cursed a blue streak, Reyes slumped into a seat and wiped her red nose with a crumpled ball of Kleenex. "When's the next flight?" she snuffled. "For the same destination?" the attendant asked. Reyes nodded. "We have a flight leaving in three hours that's not very full... we can probably get you on that flight." "Three hours!!" Skinner barked. Then he sighed. "Not like we have much of a choice. Go ahead, please put us on that flight." The attendant typed away nervously on her keyboard. "Done. Be back in at least two and a half hours... so you don't miss the flight... again?" she asked nervously. Her ears pounding, throat on fire, Reyes rasped out, "Where's the nearest bar?" not giving a damn what Skinner thought of her. She needed a pick- me-up. Or a sedative. Since neither was available to her right now, a stiff drink would do. Meanwhile... El Ranchero Resturante Mexicana Arlington, Virginia "I really wish you wouldn't order that," Byers pleaded with Frohike. "Why? Oh, and a side of refried beans," Frohike finished his order. "What's your damn problem, Byers?" Byers sighed. "I'll have a taco salad... uh, but no tomatoes, no onions, no beans, no guacamole, no sour cream, no olives, no meat and no salsa. Please." "In otherwords," Frohike grumbled, "you want lettuce and cheese in a deep-fat fried tortilla bowl." "With a side of French dressing." "Oh Good God." "Frohike, what could be blocking ALL communication from that island? I mean, even the military bases don't even have the capabilities to block out all communications. I mean, they have scramblers, sure, but cell phone calls can be made from base, you just have to pay the roaming charges." "Honestly, I think it's a combination of whatever scramblers they got and the weather front that's moving their way. Lots of electricity in the air. I mean, come on Byers, remember that thunderstorm we drove through when we went to the Star Trek convention in Omaha? We might as well been travelling by horse and buggy." "**I** didn't go along to Omaha," Byers said in a huffy voice. "**I** wasn't invited." "Oh yeah... well anyway, it sucked. Scared the piss out of us too. Lost all connections to towers, to satellites. Tell you what, no matter how smart us humans may get, Mother Nature is always waiting to bitch slap us to remind us of our place." "Oh yeah... well anyway, it sucked. Scared the piss out of us too. Lost all connections to towers, to satellites. Tell you what, no matter how smart us humans may get, Mother Nature is always waiting to bitch slap us to remind us of our place." Frohike began to devour the complimentary tortilla chips, still warm and salty. Byers tried very hard not to appear revolted by his friend's eating habits. "So, what should we do?" "Well, we really can't do anything until Langly emails us... but there IS someone we can talk to." "Who?" Frohike took a gulp of water (the salsa was very spicy) before telling him, "Manny Ibarra." "Oh, do we have to??" Byers whined. "He's so annoying. Besides, he's the one that alerted us that there's no communication to that island." "So he thinks," Frohike garbled through a mouthful of chips. "Where there's a hacker, there's a way." Meanwhile, back at La Luna Blanca "Who IS that lady?" Peter asked Doggett irritably as they wandered a bit outside. "She's not very nice. She's MEAN to Mr. Mulder's sister. I thought her piano stuff was okay, I mean... I didn't get the words or nothin' but it sounded neat." Doggett smiled. He was just grateful Starkweather didn't perform Tori Amos' "Icicle." THAT one might be a **little** difficult to explain the subject matter to a nine year old boy. "Some ladies just aren't very nice," Doggett told Peter solemnly. "You'll learn that when you're older." "My mom's nice," Peter said confidently. "Agent Scully is nice. And Mr. Mulder's Sister is nice. Are there any kids to hang out with here though?" he asked hopefully, "Grown-ups get boring, no offense, sir." "None taken," Doggett fought to keep a straight face. "And no, Peter, I don't think there's any other kids here. Sorry buddy." "Oh." Nonplussed, Peter went on. "Does Agent Scully have kids? She acts like a mom." "She has a little boy, but he's still a baby. He stayed home." "What about Mr. Mulder?" "He's the daddy of Scully's son," Doggett already saw the direction the conversation was going and he tried to detour it, but Peter was bound and determined to stay on his path, innocent of the bad memories he was inviting along for the ride. "What about Mr. Mulder's Sister? Does she have kids? Mr. Mulder said she was married. Married people usually have kids, don't they?" "She is, but she and Ben aren't ready for kids yet," Doggett fibbed a little bit. Ben was ready for kids, Jerilyn was not. "Why do you call her 'Mr. Mulder's Sister'?" Peter looked ashamed. "I can't say her name. It's funny. S-s-s.. stork... Webber," he said, looking down. "I can't say big words so good," he whispered, confiding his big secret to Doggett. "Well, I couldn't say big words so good when I was your age either. It comes with practice." Peter beamed, "That's what my dad said too... do YOU have kids?" "Um..." Doggett never knew how to answer this question. He could be eighty years old and he'd still wouldn't know how to answer this question. "Yeah... but, he's not with me anymore." "Ohhhhhhh," Peter said knowingly. "You and his mom got a 'vorce and now he lives with her." "Not quite," Doggett said. "He died, when he was a little boy. Younger than you." Peter looked up and saw that this tall man who got to travel the world and carry a gun had tears in his steely blue eyes. "Was he sick?" Peter asked in a small voice. "My friend Teddy, his sister had cancer and she died." "No, he wasn't sick," Doggett struggled with himself. He had shoved Mulder up against a wall to let him know that he did not wish to discuss his son. All he had to do was give Starkweather an icy look and she shut up, instantly. He even snapped at Reyes once and she was one of his oldest friends in the world. He couldn't do any of those things to an inquisitive little boy who had no idea that Doggett had no desire to discuss the matters closest to his heart. "What happened?" Peter asked. Doggett crouched down so he could be eye-to-eye with him. "A very bad person took him away," he told him. "And," Doggett blinked his eyes rapidly, "and he hurt him and he murdered him." Peter turned white. "Why?" Doggett felt his chest constrict. That was the question he had spent what was left of his life asking. "I don't know," he said, standing up. "I don't know." "I'm sorry," Peter said, scared now that he made Doggett not like him anymore. "I hope you're not mad." Doggett smiled and put his hand on his shoulder, "I'm not mad." "For real?" "For real." "Um... Mr. Doggett?" "You can call me John if you want too. It's easy than Doggett." "Um... 'kay... Mr. John, my uncle took me away from my mom and dad," he was shaking. "Is he a bad person like the one who hurt your kid? Was my uncle going to hurt me?" That was the question Doggett, along with the rest of the team was asking themselves. "I don't know," he said honestly to him. "But we're going to make sure that nothing happens to you. Just stay close to either me or Agent Scully or Mulder or Agent Starkweather. We'll keep you safe. We're not going to let your uncle take you again. Okay?" "'Kay," Peter said. "Why don't you head back inside and ask Agent Starkweather if you can call her "Jeri"?" he asked the boy. "It's easier than her last name." "Jeri?" Peter scrunched up his face in confusion. "That's a BOY'S name, isn't it?" "It's short for "Jerilyn", most of her friends call her "Jeri"," <> he thought. "I'm sure she won't mind." "'Kay," and Peter ran inside. Doggett stayed outside a bit longer to compose himself. Many months later, when his life seemed to be at its darkest, darker than when even Luke was found dead and his wife left him, Doggett would remember piano chords floating on a tropical breeze. And a voice fairer than an angel's singing lyrics that a child couldn't understand, but by God, he did: "Years go by will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand years go by if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head years go by will I choke on my tears till finally there is nothing left one more casualty you know we're too easy, easy, easy..." Doggett went back inside to rejoin the party.