From: Adry Harris <axianna@home.com>
Date: Wed, 26 Jan 2000 19:05:39 -0700
Subject: When Conspiracies Collide: Auspicious Beginnings by Axianna
Source: direct


Chapter 5

Leaving Mulder standing in the middle of the room, I 
headed over to the girl's washroom and stood looking 
in the mirror. Like I had over three months ago, I 
looked at the person I was; she seemed familiar and 
yet, I didn't know who she was. So many things were 
coming at me and were almost haunting me. This life 
wasn't letting me start with a clean slate. It seemed 
to be becoming dangerous not to know who I was. 

Breaking my gaze away from the mirror, I started 
running water in the sink and splashed some on my 
face. The shock of the cold helped me calm down but my 
mind was still throwing things at me and my emotions 
were boiling just under the surface. I was going 
through the entire spectrum, all mixed up together, 
making it impossible to isolate one feeling and 
identify it, naming its cause. 

I looked up as the door opened and the woman, Scully, 
came in. She looked mad. I guess it's not every day 
someone takes down her partner. She came up to me and 
gave me the once over. It was an interesting feeling 
because she was a good head shorter than I was. 

"Who the hell do you think you are? I could have you 
arrested right now for assault and for interfering 
with a federal investigation." She wasn't quite 
yelling but she was pretty close. 

"I'm not interfering, I've been cooperating! I've told 
you all I can, but if someone starts yelling in my 
face and grabbing me by the neck, I defend myself."

"If that's cooperating, I'd hate to see you being 
difficult." Her tone was lighter but there was still a 
hard glint in her eyes. "Perhaps it would be easier if 
you started at the beginning and explained everything, 
we have your statement, but you were 'cooperating' 
with the detective at the station."

"What the hey, everyone else knows, why not the rest 
of the world." I turned to look at the face in the 
mirror then let my reflection look at the agent. "I 
can't remember anything past a few months ago."

She searched my face, looking for signs of deception, 
staring into my eyes before her face softened a degree 
and she leaned against the counter.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Again she looked me 
over, but this time less critical, more questioning. I 
don't think she missed anything about me from the 
hastily brushed hair swinging down my back in a braid 
to the red rimmed eyes to the hiking boots that I 
hadn't gotten around to replacing with something a 
little lighter.

"Not much to say. I woke up outside a building three 
months ago. Didn't know who I was."

"Why didn't you go to a doctor, or the police?" Her 
tone was curious, but also cautious.

"I didn't want to know who I was. I was running from 
something and I don't know what." I moved over to the 
counter and pulled myself up onto it. Leaning my head 
back against the glass, I fiddled with the laces of 
the boot I'd pulled up beside me. "Things keep 
happening and I don't understand them. Everything 
seems to be somehow connected with who I was." I let 
my foot drop down to swing around with the other. "I 
seem to be explaining this a lot lately. This is the 
third time in the past two days."

"Why didn't you tell anyone till now, why are you 
afraid of your past?" She jumped up to the counter 
beside me, her legs swinging over the edges and we 
unconsciously fell into a rhythm together.

"I wanted a clean break. I wanted to start out new. I 
knew I was running from something and it scared me. 
When I woke up, the first thing I did was run. Then I 
hid out for a while. I was still edgy, but I thought I 
was safe. I met Joe and he helped me out. Gave me a 
bit of a job and let me stay here at night instead of 
heading back to where I was crashing. Now, things are 
starting to come back and when they do, things get 
more confusing then when I first woke up." Scully 
seemed easier to talk to than her partner. For me at 
least.

"What about Duncan MacLeod?" she prompted.

"He's a friend of Joe's who's helping me with my knee 
injury. I go to the Dojo to do a few exercises; 
stretch it out, build up some strength, that sort of 
thing. We spar a bit too. I wasn't lying earlier. 
Duncan's not a murderer. We were sparing when the 
lights exploded and the window shattered." My foot was 
back on the counter and I was twisting the laces 
together. "I got annoyed at your partner's attitude 
when he came in. So I let my tongue get away from me. 
I've had problems with that before. Just ask Joe about 
it."

"Well, I've had to deal with that before. I'm just 
used to hearing it from Mulder, though." She slid 
down, her high heals clicking against the hard tile. 
"Do you think they've got him calmed down now?"

"Probably. They're much less offensive than I am." 
Getting down I rejoined the party and hoped I wasn't 
doing the wrong thing by letting those two know about 
me. 

After stepping out of the bathrooms, Scully went to go 
find her partner and I went back to the now empty 
table. Jarod was no where to be found, the two agents 
left without further adieu and Joe was talking on the 
phone at the bar. Picking up my half-finished drink, I 
remember Mulder taking a swig of it and put it back 
down untouched. 

I was tired. Every part of me felt drained and I 
didn't want to move. The music from the band that I 
had thoroughly enjoyed earlier now grated against my 
nerves. I could feel the notes pound against me like a 
downpour against a rock, stinging and ever so slowly 
wearing me down. Joe finally finished on the phone and 
came on over. He took one look at me and sat down, 
leaning over to talk.

"You should go to bed. There's not all that much to do 
tonight and you look like hell."

"You look great too, Joe." I was really starting to 
rub off on him. Or him on me. Or something like that. 
My brain was starting to fog up.

"Well, you're the one who always speaks her mind. Now 
go get some sleep." Getting up, I headed for the front 
door only to be called back and shown to the room in 
the back that Joe sometimes let me sleep in.

"This is your room now. So use it." He left no room 
for argument and turned back to the bar leaving me in 
the doorway by myself. Closing the door, I sat on the 
edge of the bed. 

I'd been sleeping here on and off for over a month and 
it looked pretty much the same as when Joe first 
showed it to me. I had some clutter on the table and 
my bag was sitting in the corner, forgotten since 
yesterday's flight from Jarod, but that was it. Making 
a decision I got up and opened the door, hoping that 
Jarod hadn't already left and that I just hadn't seen 
him. Wandering back into the bar, I went up to Alex 
and asked if anyone had seen Jarod. 

"Yea, he left just after you disappeared." He finished 
the drink he was pouring and placed it on the bar. I 
could feel my face fall in disappointment. "He left 
something for you though."

"What?" I had an idea, but I wasn't sure. Alex wiped 
his hands off and went around the corner, pulling my 
giant bear out of the storage room.

"He said to apologize for leaving without saying 
anything, but he had to check some things out. I think 
that's what he said, at least." Taking the bear, I 
simply thanked him and carried it into my room. Once 
there, I set him on the head end of my bed, tucked in 
as much as was possible into the corner. He wasn't all 
that tucked though. 

Slipping back out to the bathroom, I got ready for bed 
and when I got back, I slipped under the covers, my 
head cranked at a bit of an angle, but I didn't care. 
Burying my face in the soft fur, I fell asleep, lulled 
by the rhythmic throb of the bass coming through the 
walls.

                 ***********

Scully waited until they where back at the hotel 
before going after Mulder.

"What on earth where you thinking? She's a witness, 
not a suspect." They were in Mulder's room, having 
gone there to go over the files once more before 
morning.

"She lied to us Scully." His voice took on that shrill 
quality it got whenever he was really stressed about 
something. He shouldn't be that stressed over a 
witness lying.

"Mulder, she has amnesia. While you where tending your 
wounds, I talked to her friend, Jarod and with her. 
She had a severe concussion three months ago and 
before that is a total blank." Scully tried not to 
take her own frustration out on Mulder. "She's 
probably suppressing her memories because she's scared 
of something."

"Is that a medical opinion." He slurred out the word 
medical.

"Until I get her in hospital for a full examination, 
no." She had to pause to calm herself before she 
continued. "But I think she's telling the truth. I 
want to confirm with her boss, but it looks likely. 
It's a bit unusual, but not unheard of. That explains 
her name and the address is probably an abandoned 
building she lives in."

"There's something going on here that we're missing, 
aside from MacLeod's mysterious alibi. This whole 
situation seems more like a cult or something similar 
as opposed to a single maniac." He ran a hand through 
his hair, leaving it lightly tussled. 

"I should think so, the timing on all these make it 
physically impossible for it to be one person." Scully 
winced when she snapped at Mulder, but he didn't seem 
to notice. He just sat on his bed, quiet for a few 
minutes as he thought. 

"Ritualized dueling." he finally said.

"What, a chapter of SCA got out of hand and started 
killing each other?" She sat on the other bed and 
pulled her shoes off. 

"No, a number of the duels predate that group. This 
has been going on for well over a hundred years; the 
SCA is too recent. It's actually fairly simple. They 
meet, duel and the winner beheads the loser." He got 
up and paced a few steps, as though trying to get his 
mind organized.

"What about the electrical disturbances?" Mulder was 
being rather un-Mulder-like. She had already figured 
it was a duel of sorts. The autopsy this afternoon 
showed a few defensive wounds and the sword found with 
the body was not the murder weapon. Now Mulder was 
staring off blankly out the window. "Mulder?" He shook 
his head and turned away from the window.

"I want to do a full background check on Duncan, 
Richie, Jarod and Jane. Also the owner of the bar, 
Joe; he seems to be a close friend of MacLeod's." He 
looked at her but still seemed distracted.

"Jane's going to be hard. As for the rest, we can get 
them started at the station tomorrow morning." She 
leaned back and plopped onto the bed. That felt 
altogether too good. It was time to get some sleep 
before she nodded off right there.

"We should be able to get a set of prints for her. We 
could run them through the system and see what shows 
up. Also check missing persons. Something might come 
up, but I doubt it."

"Mulder, what are you getting at." She rolled and 
looked at where he was now pacing, idly. 

"All the victims, just about every single one of them, 
had either a sketchy past, or none at all. Twenty 
years ago, it was possible that someone wouldn't have 
much showing up on a background check beyond a birth 
certificate and some financial records, but not now. 
Yet all of the victims did." Mulder pulled out 
background checks done on the last few victims and 
threw them on the bed beside her. Leafing through 
them, she saw one was a total blank, but the others 
went back a few years before turning up empty or fake.

"Do you think they're all involved?" Scully pointed at 
the witnesses' statements. 

"Possibly. Probably." He took up his pacing again.

Scully looked over at her partner. He looked terrible. 
Something was eating at him and it wasn't this case. 
This was turning out as one of the more normal ones 
they've had in a while. No aliens, monsters, or 
mutated humans. They probably wouldn't end up in 
decontamination unless Mulder did something stupid and 
if they could find an actual link between all the 
victims other than manner of death, they could turn 
this over to Violent Crimes and be done with it. No, 
something else was bothering him. 

"Mulder, what's eating you?"

He looked over at her, his face still pained. After a 
few seconds, he headed over to his travel bag and 
pulled out a large, yellow envelope. Heading over he 
wordlessly dumped the contents out. A few pictures, a 
lock of dark, curly hair, a small silver ring and a 
short piece of red ribbon tumbled out. Sitting up and 
looking at Mulder for the okay, she picked up one of 
the pictures.

It was a young girl, around eleven, in a stark room 
and looking past the camera. Her hair was cut short 
and she was concentrating on something, which was out 
of the picture. It was in black and white, though 
exceptionally clear, and had the feel of a 
surveillance photo. A jolt of recognition went through 
her as she mentally compared the picture in her hand 
with the picture of Mulder and his sister, Samantha 
that always sat on his desk. The same dark eyes and 
almost elfin features, though in the picture she 
remembered a smile lighting up the girl's face. The 
picture in her hand was of a somber child who didn't 
laugh; the girl was a few years older than Sam was 
when she was taken. 

"Are you sure it's her?" She looked up and examined 
the face of her partner. The last few weeks she 
thought it was the increased pressure from Skinner 
that had put the shadows under his eyes.

"No. There are a few more pictures, when she's a 
little older. Nothing past early adolescence though." 
Mulder's voice was completely devoid of emotion.

"The rest of this?" Scully looked through the pile and 
fingered the piece of ribbon.

"The hair ribbon and the ring she was wearing the 
night she disappeared." He turned around and walked 
over to a chair, sitting down. "The lock of hair could 
be hers.

"It could be real, it could be fake. There are clones, 
or something running around that looks like she did 
when she was a kid. The pictures could be the same. 
Every thing else could be faked. I want to believe but 
I can't." The defeat in his voice rang hollowly 
through the room.

"The phone call last night? Was that related?" It 
seemed to figure in, but Scully still wasn't sure.

"Yes. A man's voice, with an accent, telling me she's 
here." Mulder barely even gestured with his hand as he 
spoke.

"Here where?" Scully's mind was going in circles over 
the implications. If this was real. . . 

"In Seattle." He just sat there, still unmoving. 
Coming to a decision, Scully stood up and started to 
put her shoes back on. 

"Where do you want to start looking?" She waited for 
some kind of reaction out of her partner.

"I don't have anywhere to start. That bothers me more 
than anything else. He's doing this just to drive me 
insane." Even with this statement, there wasn't much 
feeling in his voice. The past year was hard on him. 
His faith had been shattered and now, he didn't know 
what to believe. His Crusade had been revealed to him 
as the machinations of shadow forces in the 
government; he'd been shown that what he believed in, 
he had been manipulated into believing.

"They could probably age one of these pictures on the 
computer at the police station. That would give us an 
idea of what she'd look like. It's not much of a 
start, but it'll have to do for now." Picking up her 
purse, she paused at the door, looking over at the one 
man she trusted with her life and more. "Mulder, go to 
bed. We'll find her. It's only a matter of time." 
Turning back around she almost had the door shut when 
Mulder called out to her.

"Scully?"

"Yes?" She turned around and looked to where he still 
sat.

"Thanks." He looked up at her, his eyes suspiciously 
moist.

"You're welcome. Now go to sleep." She started closing 
the door, barely catching his comment.

"Yes mother." 

Smiling quietly to herself, she went to her room next 
door and followed her own advice.

                 ***********

Jarod picked up the Tasmanian Devil Pez dispenser, 
took out a pink piece of candy and popped it in his 
mouth. Putting the three stuffed cows down on the 
table around him, he sat at his laptop to replay a 
piece of his life. 

He was with Sydney in the hallway, heading to a sim 
lab. While there, he watched a string of girls, all 
about five years younger than he was, all with their 
hair cut in a short bob, all looking at their feet, 
follow Mr. Raines down the hall way. Normally, he 
never saw anyone other than Sydney, Mr. Raines and 
occasionally Miss Parker, who used to come and see 
him. But she changed after her mother died and he 
hadn't seen her in over a year.

"Who are they?" His voice had settled the year before 
in a lower register. Along with his voice changing he 
had changed. He was questioning more what went on 
around him and why he was there. He knew most people 
weren't raised in cold rooms with only a teacher. But 
for him, it was all he remembered.

"No one for you to worry about." Sydney's voice was 
hard and the look on his face was one of pure disgust. 
Turning away from the line he pulled Jarod into the 
lab, but not before one of the girls looked up at him, 
her face streaked with tears.

Freezing the frame on the face of the girl he printed 
it up, the date on the corner was July 20 1978. Taking 
out a small disc, he replaced it with another. This 
one was much newer, from '86 and in color, the picture 
just as sharp. 

It was of a gymnasium, the set up expensive and 
professional. Jarod was there, having discovered it 
the year before. Exercise had become a bit of an 
obsession. Sydney encouraged him, but others frowned 
when he came here. For him, it was a chance to take 
his mind off of the work he did, a chance to do 
something purely physical with no thought required. He 
liked the control he had over his body. So little else 
was allowed him. 

Miss Parker was back, but she never came to see him. 
He'd seen her in the hall, but when he went to talk to 
her, she basically ignored him and ran to catch up 
with her father. Picking up a dumb bell he started his 
reps, isolating his biceps and watching carefully not 
to over stress the muscle. He just about dropped the 
weight when the door opened up. People weren't 
supposed to come in here right now. It was his turn 
and they didn't allow anyone in here when he was 
there.

A young woman walked in, she was about 17 and dressed 
in black with her frizzy, dark hair barely tied back 
in a ponytail. She paused at the door when she saw 
him, almost uncertain. He recalled the girls that he 
had occasionally seen in the hallways, dressed in 
black, following Mr. Raines or another man he didn't 
know. It took him a moment to recall she was the one 
who always looked around, instead of down at her feet.

A cold mask dropped over her features, as she strode 
up to him.

"You shouldn't be here. This is our gym." Her voice 
was harsh and cold, her eyes matching her voice. 
Looking him over as he finished his set, she 
continued. "You're one of those Pretenders."

"Why do you call me that?" No one had ever called him 
that, but he understood why the name could be applied 
to him.

"It's what you do isn't it? Pretend to be other 
people?" She was right in front of him now, a 
challenge in her eyes.

"What do you do?"

"I kill people." There was no emotion in her voice and 
Jarod felt a shiver climb up his spine. She was so 
cold. While he had been isolated, she had been 
changed. People weren't that cold unless something 
made them that way. Looking into her eyes, the 
challenge was gone now, replaced again with the 
uncertainty. His curiosity got the better of him

"Why?"

"Because it's what I do." She turned her back to him 
so fast her short ponytail whipped around and slapped 
at her neck. Heading to the mat, she started to 
stretch out, still in the black pants and shirt. The 
muscles played under the material, displaying a 
flexibility and strength one could easily 
underestimate. Standing up, she turned to face him, a 
wicked grin on her face. 

"Do you want to play?" The challenge was back on her 
face; her eyes lit up with anticipation.

"They let you play?" Jarod was a little surprised. He 
was never allowed to do anything fun. The only fun he 
got was out of the occasional simulation.

"It's how we learn. Do you want to play?" She seemed 
to be getting impatient waiting for an answer.

"What are the rules?" Standing up, Jarod stepped 
towards her. She grinned.

"There are none." With that she whipped around, 
grabbing his hand so fast he never saw the move. Next 
thing he knew he was flying through the air and 
landing with a hard smack on the mat. Then she was on 
top of him, pinning him down, digging an elbow in his 
neck.

"You don't play much do you?" She eased up the 
pressure, letting him answer.

"No." It came out as a croak.

"Too bad, I wanted some one to play with." Behind them 
a door opened, a smallish man entering with the 
presence of a whirlwind.

"ANN!" The girl jumped up, instantly in front of the 
man with her head bowed down, looking at the floor.

"Yes Father?" The man looked at her, exasperation on 
his face.

"I told you not to call me that." The voice had the 
cultured tone of an educated Englishman. She was still 
looking at the floor, but Jarod could see her 
shoulders tense up. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I wanted to play." she whispered.

The man looked at her and his face softened just the 
tiniest bit. Circling around her, he moved with an 
easy, almost careless grace. "The dream again?"

"Yes."

Recalling the presence of Jarod in the room or more 
likely he simply hadn't cared before, the man looked 
at him. The full force of the stare had the same cold 
chill that Ann's had, only more of it. 

"You can still use the gym, but not tonight. Leave." 
Having learned the merits of obedience many years 
earlier, Jarod picked up his towel, which lay 
neglected on the floor, and headed back to his own 
room. The picture paused, than moved again, this time 
backwards, replaying in reverse the expert flip Ann 
had executed. Stopping on a frame where Ann was 
clearly seen, he printed it up.

Taking the two pictures he held them up beside the 
picture taken this afternoon, with Jane and him in 
period dress, serious faces looking straight into the 
antique camera. There was now doubt. It was the same 
person.

                 ***********

Joe looked over at MacLeod. By now it was close to 
morning; the band cleared out at 3 and the rest of the 
crowd filtered out soon afterwards. Now he just had to 
clean up the mess left and then he could get some 
sleep. Or so he thought until Mac walked in.

"What did you find?" There was a shadow hidden in the 
depths of Duncan's eyes.

"Mac, I'm not allowed to tell you." The standard 
argument was already starting up. How many times have 
they had some form of this conversation?

"Will you cut the Watcher line. You've already looked 
into this and you can't figure it out. If you tell me 
maybe I can fill in the gaps." 

Joe's feet ached this evening, an interesting fact 
since he didn't have any, and he figured now was not 
the time to argue over the duties of a Watcher. "I had 
to call in quite a few favors, but the man was going 
by Alan Marcus. He was only about 100." He reached 
over and swiped a cloth over the already fairly clean 
bar.

"Why come after me? I didn't even know him and this 
was not part of the game. Not for him. This was 
personal." Duncan went over to one of the tables and 
started gathering up the glasses there, needing to do 
something in this state of agitation.

"We haven't got much on him around his first death. He 
died sometime in WW1 and our records aren't the most 
complete for that period. Did he say anything when he 
challenged you?" Joe had given up on the bar top and 
was cashing out.

"No. He didn't say anything at all. Just showed up 
when I was taking the trash out and attacked." The 
glasses went on the counter and a hand went up to 
Mac's face rubbing his eyes. "What else?"

"He was born as Mark Allen, in England, 1887. Died 
sometime in WW 1, took his first head in 1928, self-
defense. That's when we first knew about him. Since 
then, he hasn't been very active in the game, had a 
wife in Toronto. She did pass away recently."

"But why come after me, Joe?" Confusion was clear in 
his voice.

"For all your 400 years, you can still be stumped. It 
gives hope for all us normal folk." Leaving the 
register bleeping to itself, Joe was piling dishes 
into a tray to take to the kitchen, studiously 
ignoring the slightly fuming look on Duncan's face.

"Ha, Ha. And here I though I might get a moment of 
serious conversation out of you. Any theories on why 
me? When you're done making fun of my mental processes 
of course." Looking up, Duncan was in a slightly 
better mood now. The shadow was gone from his eyes and 
all that was left was the need to solve the mystery.

"Could it be something from the war?"

"I was a medic! Besides, I would have remembered if I 
met him." 

"Something more recent then?"

"What though? Why hunt me down and how did he know I 
was here?"

"You're not that hard to find. Do you think he would 
look for you actively?" 

"How the hell would I know?" MacLeod was getting 
exasperated. There were too many questions, not enough 
answers. By now the bar was pretty much cleaned up and 
the sun was starting to filter through the window. 
Screw the rest of it. Time to get some sleep before 
they both started coming up with conspiracy theories.

"Listen, I'm drawing a blank here, Mac. Go home and 
get some sleep. Don't let it worry you." 

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have people 
popping out of the wood work trying to take your 
head." MacLeod picked up his coat and headed for the 
door.

"Nope, but I have to pay taxes on this place. That's 
worse."

"Hey, I pay my taxes." The Highlander almost sounded 
hurt.

"Yea, but you've also got a Swiss bank account."

                 ***********

Chapter 6

I woke up with a nose full of fluff and sneezed. Oh. 
Yea. The bear. Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled 
around for a few minutes and after pulling some pants 
on, made my way to the bathroom. Peering into my eyes, 
I squinted, patted at my frizzed hair then wiped my 
face off with a face cloth. I looked like death. Oh 
well. Grabbing my hairbrush, I pulled out the elastic 
holding my braid and wandered into the bar. Joe did a 
lousy job of cleaning up. Must have been a late night.

Pulling a carton of milk out of the bar fridge, I 
poured a glass then started to clean up the mess that 
was leftover from last night. There where a few 
glasses left in corners and the place still needed to 
be vacuumed. So I picked up the change lying around on 
the floor, put it in the can that held the renovation 
fund, then proceeded to clear off the last of the 
clutter off the tables before wiping them down. All 
that was really left now, was the vacuuming. 

My back was to the door when I felt the draft up my 
spine; the vacuum covered any noise the door might 
have made. Pretending not to notice, I moved over to 
one of the tables and picked up a heavy ashtray on the 
pretext of vacuuming it out. Finally turning around, I 
glanced over to see who was at the door. 

"Hi Jarod." I put the ashtray down and turned off the 
vacuum.

"You don't relax much do you?" He stepped out of the 
doorway, the dim sunlight playing across his grin as 
he walked out of the shadows.

"Huh?" Confusion tinted my voice.

"The whole, pretending not to notice me while you went 
over to pick up the ashtray." Jarod was having fun 
teasing me. Not that I minded all that much.

"And here I thought I was being discrete. Actually, I 
think it's just habit." I moved over to the vacuum and 
started wrapping up the cord. I had pretty much 
finished cleaning up and once the vacuum was put away, 
I was free for the day. "How'd you get in? Pick the 
lock?" I wasn't sure if I really trusted him yet. He 
knew a lot about me, but I didn't know much about him.

"Yes. You should get Joe to put in a better dead-
bolt." He grinned a little sheepishly.

"Let me guess, breaking and entering is another of 
your many talents." The cord was all wrapped up and I 
maneuvered the beast to the closet where we hid all 
the necessary cleaning equipment.

"Along with safe cracking." This time his grin was 
just cocky.

"That sounds like an interesting tale. You're going to 
have to tell it to me sometime." I tried to close the 
closet door but the hose decided it didn't want to 
stay in on it's own.

"It's actually something I sort of stumbled into." His 
face lit up with what had to be a private joke, but 
his eyes sparkled, daring me to say something. I 
decided to change the subject instead.

"So what brings you here this early in the morning?" I 
finally just kicked the hose in and slammed the door 
so that the hose didn't have time to slip back out, 
before finally turned my full attention to him.

"It's eleven." His voice betrayed his confusion.

"Yea, which is pretty early if you're usually tending 
and cleaning the bar until three or four in the 
morning." Picking up my hairbrush and my empty glass, 
I looked over at him. "You never answered my question 
Jarod."

"Well, I thought I'd see if you wanted some company." 
He met my eyes, but for a Pretender this guy was a 
lousy liar. Maybe I just knew what to look for.

"Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of Sheba." I paused. My 
mouth was talking without me again. "I shouldn't say 
that, 'cause for all I know I could be. Any way, you 
came over here to dig for information, didn't you?" 

"Guilty as charged." He smiled. I love that smile of 
his.

"Well, I'm pretty much done here. Why don't we find 
someplace that actually serves breakfast? Left-over 
ribs and stale fries are not my idea of a balanced 
meal." I dumped my glass in the sink and waited for 
the inevitable question.

"You don't mind talking about your past?" He sounded 
rather unsure of himself, as if that was not exactly 
what he was expecting. It was kinda cute.

"Well, I mind, but you seem to know more about me than 
I do and I have a feeling that ignorance is not going 
to be a viable defense in whatever's happening." 
Heading around back, I grabbed a spare set of keys and 
started braiding my hair back out of the way.

"Why do you think something is going on?" Jarod called 
out as I was waking back into the main room.

"Look around you. There's the explosion at which I was 
found. Later on, there's a dead body outside of the 
Dojo, where I work out. Next you show up on the scene. 
After that, the FBI become involved in what is 
essentially a local matter. A bizarre local matter, 
but still local.

"Once chance, twice coincidence, three times, 
someone's messing with you. This is four" I twisted an 
elastic around the tail of my braid and hoped it would 
stand up to the weather outside, whatever it was.

"An interesting analysis." He had the smug look on his 
face. He already knew something was up and he probably 
had a better idea of what all it was, as well.

"What can I say, get hit on the head hard enough and 
Pinky becomes Brain." I returned his smug grin.

"What?!?!?" Got him.

"Joe has a TV in the back and I got hooked on the 
stupidest show, Pinky and the Brain." Stepping out the 
door, the wind tugged at my hair trying to pull it out 
of its loose braid. So much for weather proof. I 
hadn't expected wind.

"Pinky. And the Brain." He had the greatest expression 
on his face. Well, I guess I'm not the only one who 
doesn't have much of a life. That was pretty much my 
reaction the first time I saw the show.

"Yup, they're these two lab rats. . .  Well, I think 
they're mice actually. So they're talking laboratory 
mice, their genes have been spliced - that's from the 
opening song by the way - and every evening they plot 
to try to take over the world." I dropped my voice 
into a lousy imitation of Brain.

"Why do they want to take over the world?" 

"Not sure, I've only been watching for a few weeks. 
Any way, Pinky's the lovable, stupid one and Brain is, 
well, the brain. And he's really full of himself." 
We'd finally reached his car, a nondescript red 
something with nothing too remarkable about it. Well, 
nothing if one ignored the collection of small toys on 
the dash.

"And people watch this on television?" he asked.

"Well, it's for kids, but it's not bad." I waited for 
him to get around to unlocking my door.

"Why do you watch it, if it's for kids?" 

"Why do you have Pez dispensers taped to the dash of 
your car?"

"Point taken," he conceded.

"I should hope so." 

                 ***********

Scully took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Why 
they couldn't get one of the grunts around here to do 
the background checks, she didn't know. It would 
certainly save her time and eyestrain. But Mulder was 
on one of his paranoia trips and wasn't into trusting 
anyone all that much. So, Scully was doing the 
official side of things while the ever popular Lone 
Gunmen where checking out alternative sources of 
information.

Tapping at a few more keys, she squinted at the screen 
before she remembered she hadn't put her glasses back 
on. She leaned back in the chair to let the 
information sink into her brain, thinking over what 
they'd managed to find out. 

Richie Ryans had a rather long rap sheet as a 
juvenile, although he appeared to have straightened 
out the last few years, and Joe Dawson had some 
impressive commendations in his military record until 
his medical discharge. The two of them checked out as 
much as anyone would. Jane, however, was a complete 
blank (no surprise there) and Jarod was almost as bad. 
Scully had accessed his records from the Seattle PD, 
but they were surprisingly bare bones, with no 
information from before his transfer. 

The Lone Gunmen had found a few articles about him 
under different names but they always had him 
portrayed as the good guy; the strangest thing was the 
level of intellect this man had to pass himself off in 
the professions attributed to him. In one place he's 
an ER doctor, then a researcher dealing with coma 
victims and now a police officer. 

Duncan had a history going back about ten years before 
he faded into obscurity, with frequent moves between 
Seattle and Paris. There were a few possible birth 
records that could or couldn't be his, and some 
nebulous school records, but nothing even remotely 
concrete. That made three people who fit Mulder's 
initial criteria as cult members. 

Leaving her glasses on the desk she was using, she got 
up and headed over to Mulder. He was sitting there 
going over the events of the more recent murders. 
There were a few bits and pieces that were consistent 
if you looked hard enough. The most useful were a 
series of murders in New York, back in '85. The police 
had even managed to scare up some witnesses in one 
case. The witnesses weren't what could be called 
reliable, but there were enough similarities in the 
various accounts that you could call them facts.

"There can be only one," he mumbled to himself. 

"One what, Mulder? Phone company?" She looked down 
over his shoulder, for once being able to see the top 
of his head. Standing over him gave her a vicarious 
sense of power. It was pathetic, but being only 5'4" 
she had to take such opportunities as they came.

"I'm not sure. But in the one case, the witnesses 
reported the victor saying that phrase." Mulder popped 
some sunflower seeds in his mouth and chewed on them 
thoughtfully. "There can be only one." 

Damn, he wasn't noticing. "Maybe it's a duel for 
leadership? Only one leader?" Giving up on the hope of 
intimidating her partner, she sat on the desk and 
tried to look like she cared.

"Then there are the swords. I talked to an antique 
dealer and had him go over the reports on the weapons. 
In each case, the swords were well taken care of; 
cleaned, sharpened and any flaws re-forged. In some 
cases, the work done on the sword reduced the value as 
an antique. They were working weapons. And yet most 
were dated back to before the civil war." Mulder's 
mouth turned down at the corners, he was just on the 
verge of one of his wild theories but something was 
missing.

"So they're a bunch of old geezers battling for the 
leadership of the Free Masons." Scully couldn't really 
help it. She knew she was being petty right now, but 
staring at a computer screen since 8 in the morning 
will do that to a woman.

"That's it!" He practically jumped up from his seat 
and started rummaging through the pile of file folders 
on his desk. It wasn't like he couldn't remember the 
reports he'd read word for word, but he liked having 
them in front of him so he could show the proof to 
Scully.

"What's it?" She just sighed. No chance of stopping 
early today.

"Can you take another look at the body we have? I 
don't think they've released it yet." Mulder gave up 
on finding the elusive report and looked up at her. If 
he was right, the other autopsy reports wouldn't add 
much.

"What am I looking for?" If she had to redo an autopsy 
before lunch, she'd kill him.

"Any imperfections in the body, signs of aging, 
regular organ degeneration, that sort of thing." He 
looked up at her expectantly. Too bad. That could wait 
until she'd had some food.

"That sort of thing." She gave him a blank look. "Spit 
it out Mulder."

"The case in New York, one of the witness reported 
that he shot the perpetrator full of enough lead for 
him to 'sink to the bottom of the harbor'. Instead, 
the guy gets up and runs the witness through with a 
sword. There was a case in France where a bike racer 
died in a crash, only to be seen in a café by some of 
the mechanics months later."

"What else." She could already feel the pounding begin 
behind her eyes. There was always something else.

"A few years ago, MacLeod was caught in a hostage 
situation. The security cameras caught the terrorists 
taking out one of the hostages, our own Duncan 
MacLeod, and shooting him in the back of the head as 
an object lesson." Mulder's eyes lit up as he started 
processing all the pieces that were coalescing in his 
mind and his voice reflected that enthusiasm

"And. . . " She had to have some Tylenol around there 
somewhere. His enthusiasm was giving her a headache. 
She should know better than to go on a case with 
Mulder without at least a bottle of Extra strength.

"And he looks pretty good for a dead man. Don't you 
see? These deaths have been going on for hundreds of 
years. What if the people committing them have been 
around for hundreds of years."

"I know I haven't said this for a while, but you're 
nuts. The witness in New York, the one run through, 
was a survival nut and was also convinced he saw 
lighting coming from the dead man. I don't even want 
to know where you got the information about the racer, 
but I bet that it's unconfirmed, and as for Duncan 
MacLeod supposedly getting shot in the back of the 
head, those things can be faked and since he's walking 
around, it most obviously was." She took a breath to 
get ready for the next series of theories she would 
have to punch holes into.

"Just take another look at the body. I can tell you 
right now, there will be no signs of aging even on a 
cellular level. The victim will be in perfect health 
aside from the lack of head."

So a bunch of . . .  immortals, for lack of a better 
word, were running around beheading each other, cause 
if they're immortal, that's the only way to kill them, 
and they're doing that so they can be the only one of 
something. It was going to be one of THOSE weeks.

"You have to feed me first," she said.

"Huh?" He looked faintly surprised that she wanted to 
delay the search for the truth, but her stomach was 
growling and she really needed the break before she 
shot someone.

"If you want that body re-examined, you have to feed 
me first." Donuts and coffee are not going to get her 
through this day. Picking up the phone she dialed the 
morgue. "And I want real food. Yes, hello. This is 
Agent Scully. I was wondering if you still had the 
Marcus body available?"

Listening to the earpiece, she okayed a few times.

"I'll be down as soon as I get back from lunch." 
Listening to the reply she gave a slight laugh, said 
okay and then hung up.

"Where do you want to go?" Mulder looked at her with a 
slight hangdog expression, but she wasn't going to let 
him off easy. He still owed her the lunch he promised 
her when the last case had her missing lunch, supper 
and the next day's breakfast. 

"Sushi. Good sushi. I don't think Skinner will take 
food poisoning as a valid excuse." 

"Having most of the fluids drained from our body, 
possession by alien microbes and mandatory quarantine 
he'll take, but food poisoning is too far out there." 
He picked up his coat and started shrugging it on.

Grabbing her purse up from were it still sat on the 
other desk, she gave him a dirty look and headed out 
the door, her coat draped over her arm. Pausing at the 
car, she looked her partner over. He was looking 
better than last night and he was also joking around.

"Did you drop those pictures off with the computer 
analyst?" She stepped into the car then so she 
wouldn't have to see the expression on his face, but 
his responding comment, while not cheerful, was far 
from the agony of yesterday.

"He's going to look over them in the next few days but 
he's pretty busy right now. There's a missing children 
campaign coming up and the Commissioner is after him 
to finish that up first. He was going to try and get 
started on it tonight."

"Do you think it could really be her?" It was a touchy 
question, but she had to ask.

"I keep telling myself it's just a joke someone's 
playing on me. But somehow. . . "

"You think it's real."

                 ***********

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I 
suggested breakfast." I looked around Jarod's 
apartment. It was a nice, middle class apartment, not 
too cheap, not too expensive. And it was clean too. 
I'd been over to Richie's bachelor pad once and that 
is not an experience to be repeated without a gas 
mask. Glancing around, I noticed a laptop on the 
table, surrounded by a dozen different Pez dispensers. 
I picked up Bugs Bunny and placed him beside Elmer 
Fudd. 

"Well, it's quiet and I promise, I can cook." Jarod 
was already in the kitchen, digging in the fridge.

"Wow, a guy who can cook and is willing to do so. Rare 
combination. Are you sure you're not married?" I 
petted the three cows sitting on the couch. I couldn't 
help it.

"Not since the last time I checked. Besides, for all 
you know you could be married yourself." His voice was 
only slightly muffled from his being in the kitchen.

"No ring and no tan line. I'd guess I'm single." 
Heaven help me if I had a husband running around 
somewhere.

"How does an omelet on toast sound?" Jarod stuck his 
head out of the kitchen, a box of eggs in his hand.

"Got any cheese?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Sounds great. Lots of cheese though." I sat down in 
one of the chairs, pulling one foot under me. There 
wasn't much in the way of personal effects here. 
Mostly just the Pez and the cows. Eventually I piped 
up. "How long have you been living here?"

"Not long, why?" He was already back in the kitchen; 
the sound of breaking eggs and the scratch of a wire 
whisk now drowned out by our conversation.

"Not planning on staying long are you." I said that as 
a statement, not a question.

"You know, I think the Center put you in the wrong 
project." Jarod came out of the kitchen, wiping his 
hands on a tea towel.

"That's the second time you've mentioned the Center. 
And why do I think it should be spelt with a capital?" 

"I though you didn't want to know?" He knew quite well 
why I was there in the first place. He just had to rub 
it in a bit more I guess. Or I was just getting a bit 
on the touchy side.

"Like I said, ignorance doesn't look like an option, 
anymore. I can't keep hiding. Time to find out who I 
am." Getting up I headed into the kitchen, hiding my 
anxiety with action. "You got any dishes in here or do 
you eat off of plastic?"

"Up by the sink. Do you really want to know?" His 
voice sounded a bit more muffled rebounding into the 
kitchen. I'd dug out two plates and some glasses. 

"Will you quit asking me that. I said so didn't I?" I 
was now going through the drawers looking for cutlery. 
Not much to choose from, but I got enough for the two 
of us. Stepping into the room, I froze when I heard my 
own voice.

". . . shouldn't be here. This is our gym. . . " I 
walked over and stared at the screen of the laptop. It 
was me all right, with short hair, dressed all in 
black. I watched the scene play out, till the screen 
went blank. My hand reached out to touch picture I 
still saw, trying to verify it. I barely noticed as 
the glasses I had tucked under my arm started to slip 
out.

"Ann?" Jarod was now behind me, though I hadn't heard 
him move.

"I'm not that person any more. I don't think I have 
been for a while. I'm Jane now. I. . . " I absently 
glanced over at Jarod before returning to look at the 
empty screen. "I don't remember anything though. I 
know that was me, but I don't remember any of it."

"Nothing's coming back? Nothing at all?" He wasn't 
happy about it, but he didn't sound too surprised.

"Nothing." I finally put the dishes I still carried on 
the table and sat down. "Do you have any more of me?"

"Not much, just a few glimpses from when you were 
younger." 

"Can I see them?" 

"Sure. Just hold on a minute." He took out a small 
disc and replaced the one the computer spat out. 
"Here. There's just a glimpse."

I watched as a younger version of myself walked by in 
the background, following the man that I called Father 
in the other scene. I was about twelve.

"Who is that man? Is he my father?" I was still 
looking at the frozen frame of me as a young teen.

"Not your biological father. But other than that I 
couldn't say." Jarod sat down in a chair beside me and 
started to pull out prints obviously taken from the 
video footage.

"This is from the Center, isn't it?" I fingered the 
pictures and compared them to the one still on the 
screen.

"Yes." he said. I looked up when I heard the harsh 
tone in his voice. His eyes were so cold, looking off 
into the past.

"Tell me about it?" I whispered.

"The Center is a corporation that has fingers in 
everything and anything. They took me from my parents 
when I was a child and kept me there. I learned to get 
into people's heads, to Pretend to be them. They used 
what I learned and exploited it." He paused, then 
looked over at me, his voice taking on a bit more 
inflection after the flat, emotionless explanation of 
earlier. "The most I could find out is that you came 
to the Center some time around 1976 or '77. They 
trained you to be an assassin. You were gone by '88. 
Before or after that, I don't know."

I used to be an assassin. It explained a lot of 
things, but other questions still rebounded in my 
head. Like how I left the Center, who the man I called 
Father was and why I still couldn't remember a thing. 
"How come I can remember a few fragments from before I 
went there, at least I assume it's from before, and I 
can almost remember things that happened after, but 
there's nothing in the middle? That's more than just a 
whack on the head." I stood up and started to pace. 
Not far, but I had to move. 

"The Center has been involved with all sorts of 
research. Much of it pertained to brain development in 
area's like memory retention and the possibility of 
altering it." His word left a cold chill down my 
spine,

"You mean the Center stole my memories from me? Of my 
time there?" I could feel emotion boiling up in me. 
Someone had done this to me and I didn't even remember 
it. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, 
making it hard to see. Blinking back the tears I 
focused on Jarod's face, waiting for his reply though 
I already knew the answer.

"Yes." His voice was still as flat as earlier.

"But why not from before? Why not everything? Why can 
I still remember a few things?" A tear spilled over 
and streaked down my face. Ignoring it and the one 
that followed, I turned away, starting to pace again. 

 "The stronger the memory the harder it is to obscure, 
but you don't have much from before. That's probably 
all they've left you." His voice cut through my mind 
clearing out the panic I thought I'd managed to 
control. Jarod had been in the tape as well.

"You were there too." Turning back to him, I came and 
stood right beside him. My hand strayed to his arm, as 
I put aside my fear and tried to understand him, 
hopefully helping me to understand myself. "What did 
they take from you?" 

"They took my family. I never knew my mother and 
father. They took my brother, just like they took me, 
and killed him." His face was contorted, filled with 
sadness. This was hard for both of us. "I have a 
sister I've seen once, for only a few seconds." 
Abruptly his face changed, the grief not leaving but 
changing into something else. "But I have a past. You 
don't." His face now had a hard gleam in his narrowed 
eyes.

"They screwed up though. I can remember enough to find 
out the rest." With that statement, I felt something 
leave me. I took a breath and it felt like the first I 
had ever taken. I scrubbed a hand across my face, 
erasing the memory of the tears, then glanced up. 
Jarod and I looked at each other, knowing what the 
other was feeling, both of us beginning to understand 
the other.

I smelled the smoke first. 

"Um Jarod."

"Yea"

"I think the omelets are burning."

                 ***********

"You weren't kidding. This is good." I stuffed another 
bite of omelet in my mouth. It was from a new batch.

"What can I say, I'm versatile." A lazy grin spread 
across his face.

"I'm sure." We were teasing each other again. I guess 
I never had much of a chance to do that before. From 
what I'd just found out, I don't think either of us 
had much of what could be called a normal life. 

"Jarod, what do I do now?" I was unsure of myself. 
Stick me in the middle of a war zone and I'd be fine, 
but right then, I was completely lost.

"What do you want to do?" Trust Jarod to ask me that. 
I look for an answer and he gives me a question. I 
thought about it for a bit. The unknowns were starting 
to stack up and the fear I'd had to overcome at first 
was being replaced with curiosity.

"I want to find out more about who I am. Who I was." 
There was a break in the conversation as we sat and 
finished off the last few bites of breakfast. Suddenly 
something clicked in my mind and I had a face to put 
together with the voice I'd remembered the last time I 
talked to Jarod. Taking a bite of toast, I got up and 
gathered together the dishes, stacking them all on top 
of each other; glasses on plates on fry pan with the 
knives and forks piled on the side. Jarod broke the 
easy silence we'd fallen into.

"Do you think you have any family?" His tone was idle 
curiosity itself, but he had a speculative gleam in 
his eyes. He wanted to see my reaction to the 
question, more than the answer.

I looked inside myself asking that question, expecting 
to feel empty by it but instead, I was filled with 
peace. I could feel my mouth tug up into a slight 
grin.

"Somewhere. Maybe that's what I remember. The word I 
can't quite hear, I think it's a name. I just can't 
make it out it." I listened in my head to the 
whispered word, trying again to understand it. Putting 
the dishes in the sink, I looked over to where Jarod 
was wiping the table off. "I might even find them 
someday."

"What about after the Center? You remember something." 
It wasn't a question. 

Adding the dishes he'd made dirty earlier, I ran some 
hot water into the sink to soak them before I turned 
to face him and changed the subject. "Let's go to the 
Dojo. I could use a work out." I arched an eyebrow up. 
"Want to Play?"

"Oh no you don't. Getting flipped like that once in my 
life is enough." He wasn't being any fun.

"Wus." I said, keeping a straight, blank face and 
trying to egg him on.

"So" Definitely no fun.

"Coward." 

"Really?" he asked. Well, no. But I wasn't gonna tell 
him that.

"Afraid to take on little ol' me?" Of course little 
ol' me had already taken him down a few times already.

"No, I just like all my body parts were they are. It 
would be interesting to see you in action, when I'm 
not the target." He gave a wry grin and threw the 
cloth into the sink with a splash that just missed me.

"You haven't seen anything until you've seen Duncan. 
With him, it's an art form." I got up and looked for 
my keys. Jarod went over to the closet, pulling out 
his leather jacket. 

"Need one?" He rummaged a bit more and pulled out a 
spare coat. I'd left mine at the bar.

"Sure." I slipped in the over sized coat and rolled up 
the sleeves so they were out of the way. The sky was 
more overcast than it was this morning and it looked 
to be threatening rain. Heading out of the door, he 
locked it and we started down the stairs. 

"Will you tell me what you remember afterwards?" 
Busted. 

"And here I thought I'd gotten your mind off the 
topic. I'll tell you what I can, but I have to talk to 
Duncan first." I ran down the stairs barely hearing 
his reply.

"Then let's go play."

                 ***********

Chapter 7

We stopped off at the bar before making it to the 
Dojo; I wanted to pick up the picture for Duncan. 
Jarod didn't quite understand why I wanted to give a 
copy to him, but he'd live without the immediate 
knowledge. If I could convince Duncan to confide in 
him, he'd get the joke.

Stepping into the Dojo just as the rain started to 
fall, I was glad to see that the front windows had 
been replaced and electricity restored. The Dojo was 
back in business. Word was out, with a few guys 
already at the weights and others sparing in pairs on 
the mats. Shaking the few drops of rain off my jacket, 
I left Jarod at the entrance and headed to the office, 
peaking around the door to see if Duncan was around. 

The large windows for the office still hadn't been 
replaced, but a considerate soul had covered the gap 
with plywood. Putting down the picture so Duncan would 
see it when he came in, I went to find Richie. 
Tracking him down in the change room, I found out that 
Duncan was still asleep. So much for instant 
resolution. 

When talking with Jarod as we waited, we decided we 
might as well get some exercise in while we were 
there. Fortunately I still had a change of clothes 
there. Coming out in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, 
with my knee wrapped, I started warming up and waited 
for Richie to find something that would fit Jarod. 

A minute later they came out with Jarod in a pair of 
Duncan's sweat pants, though they were a little short, 
and a tank top. He looked . . .  very good. Really 
nice . . .  definition. Clamping down on my errant 
thoughts, I watched as he joined me on the mat, a few 
of the regulars looking at this new guy with pity. One 
of them was still limping from the last time I was 
challenged to a friendly fight.

"Why do I have the feeling that everyone's pitying 
me." Jarod stretched out his arms while watching the 
rest of the room out of the corner of his eyes. And he 
accused me of never relaxing.

"They are. I have a bit of a reputation here." I shook 
out my legs and bent over to stretch out my 
hamstrings.

"Shall we put on a good show for them then?" He 
grinned at me as I looked up at him from between my 
legs. I stood up and was ready to go.

"Why not. So how much do you know?" I didn't want to 
be completely unfair. Besides, I had a feeling he'd 
pick this up rather fast. 

"I've picked up a little here and there." He was grin 
grew larger as he set up a defensive posture.

"Let's play then." My smile matched his, as I just 
stood relaxed, hands on my hips.

"No rules?" he asked, his stance relaxing marginally.

"Well, let's just say I'll be nice." Then my hand 
lashed out at his face.

He blocked it easily and replied with a swing of his 
leg to trip me. Jumping over it, I returned the favor 
and caught him in the back of the knee. He didn't go 
down, but it left him open and he caught one in the 
ribs. I gave him a few seconds to recover. He didn't 
really need them, but it gave him a chance to sort out 
what I'd done. I wouldn't be able to do it again.

Twenty minutes later, Jarod had picked up a fair bit 
and I was nicely warmed up. Stopping for a break and 
to fill up my water bottle, I wondered how long it 
would take the errant Scotsman to get up. It was close 
to mid afternoon now and if Duncan didn't get up soon, 
I was going to go get him. And I wouldn't be nice 
about it either. 

You never quite realize just how many possibilities 
there are to annoy an Immortal that aren't feasible 
otherwise, unless you sit and think about it. My fun, 
however, was spoiled when Duncan finally came down in 
the elevator a few moments later, the old machine 
groaning crankily as it settled on the main floor.

"Took you long enough to get your butt out of bed." I 
went and stood next to Jarod, watching with interest 
as Duncan tried to ignore us. He gave up when I 
sprayed water on him and he gave me an icy look before 
he said anything.

"Why is the cop here?" Duncan woke up on the wrong 
side of his rock this morning.

"Be nice, he's here to help." I said sweetly; might as 
well get this meeting off and rolling. "And actually, 
he's not really a cop." Jarod didn't look too 
impressed with my confession. Tough.

"Why tell me that?" Duncan wasn't too bright eyed and 
bushy tailed this morning.

"Cause I want you to tell him." Waiting for the 
following reaction, I wasn't disappointed. At least he 
was awake enough to clue in what I meant by that. 

"Are you crazy?" He pulled me a few feet away from 
Jarod so we could have a bit more privacy. 

"No. I think he should know." This was going pretty 
much like I expected it to.

"I don't know him and I don't trust him." He said that 
like he expected me to leave it at that. I thought he 
knew better than that by now. Then again, I didn't 
know myself too well, so I shouldn't say anything. 

"Everything that's happened is raising more and more 
questions. I think between the two of you we can 
figure out some of what's happening. Jarod knows some 
parts and you know some parts. I don't understand what 
is going on, Duncan," I looked up at him, hating the 
pleading note that crept in while begging him with my 
eyes because I didn't really know what else I could 
do. "I think this is all connected somehow. You don't 
know why that guy came after you, do you?" 

"That was a personal matter." He looked at me harshly 
and his narrowed eyes took on a dangerous gleam. A 
lesser person might have withered from that glare.

"Listen! There are too many coincidences. There's 
something here that we aren't seeing and I think it 
has something to do with me." I was getting desperate.

"You have a rather high opinion of yourself." His 
wisecrack and sarcastic grin got under my skin and my 
temper flared. I took a deep breath and tried not to 
give in to feelings of mass destruction and violent 
deaths.

"I am trying to figure out what is happening around me 
and why. If you don't want to help, fine." I turned 
away and walked onto the mat. "Hey Richie, want to 
spar?" I almost winced at the sharp bite in my voice.

Throwing an accusing look to where Jarod was going 
through the motions of a throw, Duncan followed me. 

"Why?" He reached forward to grab my arm. I slapped it 
out of the way. Hard.

"Why what?" I turned to face him, still trying to 
control my temper.

"Why should I tell him." He was giving me my opening 
and I wasn't about to let it pass.

"The body was no coincidence. The Feds getting called 
in was no coincidence. Jarod being here is no 
coincidence. MY being here is no coincidence! The only 
problem is I can't put the pieces together because I 
can't remember. I need the two of you to work together 
to figure this out. And to do that there can't be any 
secrets." I looked Duncan in the eyes, daring him not 
to believe me.

"I must be nuts," he said. I let out the breath I 
hadn't realized I was holding.

"Somehow this involves Immortals. I need your help to 
explain this to Jarod. And Jarod needs to explain some 
things to you." I said, hoping he wouldn't change his 
mind at the last minute.

"Fine. When?" Duncan looked annoyed, but he'd agreed 
and I couldn't have told Jarod about Immortals without 
his permission.

"Why not now?" I wasn't that sweaty.

"Upstairs. But have a shower first." His eyes softened 
this, but I still shot him a quick glare. So maybe I 
was a little sweatier than I thought.

"Thanks Duncan. This means a lot to me." Heading off 
the mat, I told Jarod the news and then went to 
change, both excited and scared about what the future 
held for me.

                 ***********

Dana pulled off her surgical mask and looked down at 
the body in front of her. He was right, damn it. No 
signs of aging; this man had a set of lungs to kill 
for and a very healthy heart to go along with a very 
healthy everything else. There were a few marks around 
the neck that indicated some level of electrical 
disturbance, but that could be explained by the storm. 
A very localized storm. A very-very localized storm. A 
very. . . 

She'd been looking at the dead body too long. Ripping 
off the gloves and throwing them into a garbage bin, 
she turned off the recorder and went to find Mulder. 
Finding him in the office they'd been assigned, she 
sat down and told him what she found. He nodded, 
pretty much hearing what he expected to hear.

"Any burns?" he prompted.

"Yes, there were some indications of electrical burns 
localized at the cut site on the neck." Slipping off 
her pumps, she rubbed her aching feet. She should have 
changed into a pair of runners earlier, but they were 
at the hotel and she didn't feel like going all the 
way there just for a more comfortable pair of shoes. 
She should start carrying a pair in her bag. That 
meant a bigger bag but the cost it would save her on 
ruined shoes should even things out. 

"Earth to Scully." Mulder interrupted her and she 
realized she'd totally ignored whatever he'd said.

"Huh?" Yup. She wasn't exactly with it today.

"You fazed out there for a few minutes. I was starting 
to wonder if I should put a stopwatch in your pocket." 
Mulder and stopwatches.

"It's the whole tired after lunch thing. Thank you 
very much for that by the way. The tempura was 
wonderful." She pulled her thoughts out of the clouds 
and focused on the conversation at hand.

"As I was asking when you phased out, I talked with 
one of the officers who started this investigation. He 
tried to take some prints off of a glass that Jane 
used, but couldn't lift one." It wasn't admissible in 
court, but that didn't stop people when all they were 
looking for was information.

"Where they all smudged?" she asked.

"No, forensics picked up traces of oil, but no 
discernible prints." Mulder had a faint, knowing smirk 
on his face. He was baiting her again.

"Isn't that the same as smudged?" She knew it wasn't, 
but her brain wasn't even in first gear yet and this 
gave her a chance to catch up. 

"Not quite. It makes you wonder, what kind of person 
has no finger prints?" His smirk grew larger.

She paused a moment, trying to think of what 
circumstances required a lack of identification and 
where gloves weren't really an option. "Do you think 
she's a part of this cult?"

"Running around with a sword to become the supreme 
leader by beheading all rivals? It's possible. Then 
again, she could be involved with the mob, or a high-
class cat burglar. Maybe special ops, or how about an 
alien?" He said, wagging his eyebrows as he did so, 
making her choke as she tried not to laugh.

"You're the believer, not me." She regretted saying 
that as soon as it left her mouth, as she watched his 
face fall.

"Used to be Scully, used to be." There was a note of 
regret that rang through his statement, like he was 
mourning the loss of his belief.

"How about we ask her then?" 

"Any ideas as too where we could find her?" Mulder 
jumped on the change in subject.

"How about Joe's Bar?" Putting her pumps back on, Dana 
promised herself a pair of comfortable shoes next time 
she needed a new pair. Going by past experience, it 
should only take about another week.

                 ***********

Men! 

Duncan decided to be dramatic about. He couldn't just 
tell Jarod he was Immortal and slice open his palm or 
something to make the point. No! He had to go and stab 
himself with a kitchen knife and kill himself by 
hitting a major artery. At least he had the sense to 
do it where there was hardwood on the floor. I didn't 
even want to think about how hard it is to get blood 
out of carpet.

Jarod totally freaked out and went into full paramedic 
mode. He also freaked out when the wound closed in on 
itself before his eyes. I was sorely tempted to help 
Duncan repeat his performance, but I was going to have 
a fun time getting the blood that was already there 
off of my boots and there was enough blood on the 
floor as it was. Jarod was worse off, almost covered 
from head to toe with the dark red splashes. 
Fortunately, he was still wearing the clothes he'd 
borrowed. 

Apparently, he wasn't completely overwhelmed by what 
he'd seen because he'd been pelting Duncan with 
questions since the guy came back. They covered 
everything from the Gathering, to Watchers, to the 
Quickening. Jarod didn't always like what he heard, 
but he kept his opinions to himself and at least they 
were helping clean up the mess. I had just wanted a 
nice quiet conversation. Not full dramatics. 

Grabbing a few more towels out of the bathroom I 
dumped them beside the two men, watching as they wiped 
up the evidence. Picking up a pile that was already 
bloody I dumped them in the bathtub. He could clean 
them up later. The guys cleaned up the last of the 
blood and leaving the towels on the floor, sat down 
with feet propped up on the table. I'd had about 
enough of this. 

"Listen Duncan," I poked a finger in his direction, 
"You may be from an age where women cleaned up after 
the men, but it's not like that any more. Finish 
cleaning up your own bloody mess." I didn't say it on 
purpose, but it came out anyway and Duncan winced at 
the bad pun.

Suitably chastised he got up and picked up the last of 
the towels. I stole his seat and looked at over Jarod. 
I don't think anything could phase that guy. He sat 
there with his eyes all gleaming and just about 
overflowing with questions.

"Sorry about that. I didn't think he'd be so dramatic 
about it." I settled down and started to pull a foot 
up on the couch. I stopped when I felt that it was 
still pretty damp.

"It's fascinating actually. It shouldn't be possible, 
but it is." Jarod didn't let his curiosity over 
Immortals overshadow everything else and he pinned me 
with a glance, returning to the reason we came in the 
first place. "But what does all this have to do with 
you?"

"I think I knew an Immortal before the explosion. I 
don't know exactly who he is, but since I couldn't say 
anything without talking to Duncan first. And he might 
now the Immortal. I'd like to show him the 
surveillance." 

"You think the Englishman might be an Immortal?" Jarod 
clued in right off.

"He's the only person who comes to mind. I think he 
was also the one who took me from the Center." I put 
my last card on the table. Jarod now knew everything I 
did.

Duncan came back, towels out of sight and we talked 
things over for a bit. Jarod was going to head back to 
his apartment to pick up his computer and whatever 
other information he'd managed to get a hold of. I'd 
stay here and tell Duncan what I could about the 
Center's side of things. Then we'd meet at Joe's and 
bring him in. Since he was a Watcher, he might be able 
to add anything we missed, as well as offer a 
different perspective. 

"But first things first. You might want to change 
before you leave." I wasn't about to let the two of 
them out when they looked like something out of a 
horror flick. The two of them looked down, embarrassed 
at their blood-covered clothing, before quickly 
changing into something else.

                 ***********

Ducking in out of the rain, the two agents shook off 
their coats and headed into the Martial Arts gym. 
Walking past the men working out, Scully looked on in 
appreciation of the view. Mulder was out of luck as 
she raked over the place with a more critical glance, 
taking in the hasty repairs and complete lack of 
women. Before they could step into the office one of 
the guys at the weights walked towards them, his 
pleasant Australian accent informing them that Duncan 
was upstairs. He showed them into the office, made a 
quick call to Duncan telling him they were there and 
then left, leaving the door open behind him. 

Scully sat down while Mulder stepped behind the desk 
and rummaged around, looking for who knew what. He 
stopped and looked at a picture sitting beside the 
burnt out computer before holding it up for Scully to 
take a look. It was a picture of Jane sitting in front 
of Jarod, period dress putting it back at least a 
hundred years.

"I guess that's your proof Scully." His smug grin 
challenging her.

"Not necessarily. It could easily have been faked or 
it could even be one of those old time photos you get 
at a carnival. That isn't exactly concrete evidence." 
The frame was new, but it was hard to tell anything 
about the picture with the way that Mulder was waving 
it around.

"Have you ever noticed that she doesn't swear?" He put 
the picture down and started looking at the papers on 
the desk, most of which turned out to be invoices from 
electricians and contractors.

"Not until you pointed it out." She didn't like the 
way this conversation was going.

"Most women raised during the 1800's were raised to 
act as a lady, no swearing or harsh language, in many 
cases regardless of their original station in life." 
He looked away from her skeptical look and continued 
to leaf through the papers on the desk, hoping to come 
across something that would prove his theory, but not 
really expecting to find anything.

"I don't think they were taught how to wield a sword 
either." She didn't know which was worse, Mulder's 
theory, or the fact that it was starting to make sense 
for all she tried to disprove it. It fit the facts 
they had so far. "Or that particular pressure point 
she used."

"She would have learned that later. If she wanted to 
stay alive, it would have been essential." He gave up 
on the desk he went and sat next to Scully, after 
catching a glimpse through the door of MacLeod as he 
was coming down the stairs. 

"You're reaching Mulder." She sighed and tried to find 
an alternative explanation.

"Do you have a better explanation?" He had that smug 
grin again.

"No, but give me an hour. I'm supposed to refute your 
theories not come up with my own." They both stood up 
as Duncan entered the room.

"What can I do for you two today?" Duncan wasn't 
impressed; he had more questions about the Center for 
Jane, but they'd have to wait now.

"We were looking for Jane actually. Do you know where 
we might find her?" Agent Scully, if his memory served 
him right, was being polite. Better dealing with her 
than her partner. 

"What is this in regards too?" He didn't want to say 
she was upstairs unless he absolutely had to. 

"We'd just like to ask her a few questions." Like why 
she has no fingerprints. Mulder knew that Duncan knew 
where she was. It was just a matter of getting him to 
tell them. Or following him.

"I'm not sure if I could contact her right now. If you 
leave a number where you can be reached, I'll tell her 
you were looking for her if I see her anytime soon." 

"Please don't screw with us Mr. MacLeod." Scully cut 
in, giving him a scathing glance. "Jane wasn't at 
Joe's and if she isn't here, where else would she be?" 

"I really wish I could help you Agent Scully, but I 
don't know where she is right now." He was lying 
through his teeth. She knew it and she knew he knew 
she knew it. His disarming smile was just 
confirmation. Standing up, she headed to the office 
door, Mulder in tow.

"Perhaps later than, Mr. MacLeod." Reaching into her 
pocket she pulled out a business card, with Mulder's 
and her number. "If you could call us when you hear 
from her?"

"I'll make sure to let her know you were here." 
Shaking hands, the two agents left the Dojo, running 
through the rain to their car. Waiting for Mulder to 
unlock her door, Scully's hair got plastered to her 
skull. 

'Great,' she thought. 'I'm gong to end up with frizzy 
hair.' Stepping in, she tried to get a hand through 
the mess.

"Stake out Joe's?" Mulder was thinking pretty much 
along the same lines as she was. Maybe the bar would 
have one of those hot air hand dryers that she could 
use on her hair. 

"Stake out Joe's," she replied

                 ***********

Waiting for Duncan to get back, I wandered the loft 
looking at all the antiques he'd collected over the 
years. There was an antique telescope, some figurines, 
a Native American spear and few other things I had no 
hope of identifying. Sitting among his treasures, I 
let the sense of age there seep into my bones. Not 
everything was older than I was though. Duncan was 
completely up to date with numerous gadgets cluttering 
things up, including a high tech sound system that had 
me drooling. 

Moving around, a glint of light caught my eye and I 
noticed a sculpture off in a corner, not hidden so 
much as protected. It was no more than a few years 
old, bronze and silver fashioned together in an 
intricate dance so that they flowed around each other. 
Stepping forward, I went for a closer view. I was 
fascinated by the play of dim light off the lightly 
polished surface. There wasn't much form in the piece, 
but the two tones flowed and blended together tricking 
the eye into an impression of motion. 

Running a finger along one of the strips of silver, I 
could feel the hands shaping it, heating it, bending 
it, caressing it into place. This was a piece of 
someone's life, made out of her love. A woman had made 
this. There was a strength hidden in the yielding 
flows. 

"I've always loved that piece." 

I jumped and swung around, hands coming up 
automatically. I was surprised to hear Duncan behind 
me. Should have heard him coming up the stairs. 
Putting my hands down and trying to ignore my pounding 
heart, I turned back to the sculpture. "You know who 
made it?" 

"Yes. Tessa." He didn't give her a last name.

"She was your wife, for a while?" I made it a 
question, unsure of what I felt from the sculpture.

"She almost was. She died soon after I asked her to 
marry me." There was regret and still a fair hint of 
pain in his voice.

"You must have been together for a long time. She made 
this for you." I turned back to the sculpture, letting 
its peace fill me again.

"How can you tell?" Duncan was faintly surprised. It 
was the last piece Tessa had made and he couldn't bare 
to sell it when she died. Instead he had packed it 
away, taking it out only a few months ago.

"It's the two of you. She's the silver; you're the 
bronze. There's give and take between the two and in 
some places they're indistinguishable, melded 
together." My fingers brushed the surface of the 
metal, flowing over the pattern of silver and bronze 
down to where they joined together. "She was caring 
and kind, filling some of the hollows in your heart. 
You're harder, more corners, more contours. Together, 
you were whole." 

Turning to look at Duncan, I watched him struggle with 
the grief he was feeling.

"I'm sorry, I should have realized this is a sensitive 
subject for you," I said.

"That's okay, it's good to remember every once in a 
while." Stepping away we both left the sculpture in 
the dim light and headed to the door. It was time we 
made our way to the bar. 

Picking up the jacket Jarod lent me, I slipped it on 
and followed Duncan to retrieve his trench coat from 
downstairs. Stepping outside, it immediately became 
apparent that the rain hadn't stopped as it started 
soaking into my hair. But the steady drizzle suited 
both of our moods so we walked the few blocks to Joe's 
place.

                 ***********

Once at the bar, I wished we drove. The main room was 
pretty deserted, made even more noticeable by the fact 
it was Saturday afternoon. Duncan wasn't too wet and 
after shaking some of the wetness off his coat, he was 
presentable. I, however, was drenched. 

The coat I'd borrowed wasn't exactly waterproof. 
Heading to the back, I quickly changed out of the wet 
clothes and hung them around the room to dry out, 
mopping up some of the water trail I'd left. Then I 
grabbed my hairbrush and headed back up front. I 
didn't want to miss anything.

By the time I made it back, Jarod had shown up. Taking 
over Joe's desk, he'd set up his laptop to show the 
images to Duncan and was answering the questions he 
had left. They both looked up as I entered, but I just 
sat down across from them and started to attack the 
mess the elements had made of my hair. 

While struggling with the tangles I kept an ear on the 
conversation. Yanking at one particularly nasty spot, 
I regretted not brushing it out fully this morning. 
Fortunately, Jarod took pity on me after a few minutes 
and volunteered to give me a hand. Duncan just stuck 
his nose in some of the papers already spread around 
the desk ignoring us.

Jarod and I just sat there for a few minutes, trying 
to get the mess untangled, me with my hands and Jarod 
with the brush. The strands of wet hair were sticking 
together; the curls that normally straightened out 
from the weight were twisting around each other and 
making me wish I had a pair of scissors. 

Finally, the worst of the tangles were out of the 
section I was working on, so I got the brush off of 
Jarod and pulled it through, watching the water drip 
off the ends. No matter how much you towel dry, it 
still manages to do that. Giving the brush back to 
Jarod, I started on another set of tangles. He had 
managed to get most of the tangles out of the bottom 
and was slowly working his way up.

"You were a hair dresser at one point, weren't you?" I 
asked. He put the brush aside as he pulled a few 
strands of hair out of one knot, trying to untangle it 
before he answered.

"Is it that obvious?" 

"Not really." Shaking out my head, I ran a hand 
through the mass that was hanging nearly to my waist. 
We almost had my hair brushed out and I contemplated 
leaving it loose. 

"At least you don't lisp," Joe said as he came up 
behind us. I'd noticed him in the doorway watching us 
a few minutes before. 

"What??" Jarod and I were in unison, looking over at 
him, as we were both confused by comment. Duncan just 
had a silent chuckle, having avoided getting drawn 
into the hair dressing duties. He had enough troubles 
with his own hair.

"Never mind." Joe sat down with us, watching as I 
compromised on the hair and simply tied it back in a 
loose ponytail. "What can I do for you guys?"

"Jarod knows about Duncan." Having just gone through a 
similar explanation with Duncan, I cut to the chase. 
"I'm trying to find out who I am, Joe. Jarod has a 
picture of the guy who might be the Immortal I knew 
and we're trying to find out who it is." I flicked a 
few more drops of water off the ponytail, trying to 
ignore the spreading damp on my back. "Get 
comfortable, this could take some time and I need your 
help."

                 ***********

Chapter 8

Mulder leaned over and nudged his partner. She'd dozed 
off a few minutes after they settled in outside of the 
bar, lulled by the rhythmic splatter of rain on the 
roof of their car. Sitting up, she peered through the 
water-streaked windows at the figure ducking into the 
doorway, then shaking his jacket off. Tall, with dark 
hair and a black leather jacket pinned him as the 
elusive Jarod Logan. 

"Jane and Duncan showed up already, didn't they?" 
Wiping the sleep out of her eyes she looked over at 
her partner, who was spitting some sunflower shells in 
a plastic glass. She'd started making him do that when 
she'd sat on one of his discard piles during a stake 
out. 

"About ten minutes ago." His eyes trained on the 
figure now entering the bar.

"Then Jarod is the last one on your short list to 
arrive." Dana brushed her hair out of her eyes and 
finger combed it into place.

"Let's give it a few more minutes and see who else 
shows up." He just kept looking out the window at the 
front door of the bar. 

"You just don't like the music." She kept it light 
hoping to get Mulder to relax some. 

"I don't like the people." He said that with a dry 
tone that belayed his confusion, but she still heard 
it.

"Since when has that stopped you?" Looking over at her 
partner Dana was surprised to hear the uncertainty in 
his voice. This from a man who staked a vampire solely 
on his own convictions? And was right about it?

"I can't seem to get into her head, Scully," he 
admitted. "I don't understand her. I can get into the 
mind of homicidal maniacs and serial murders, but this 
girl?" He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a few 
more seeds.

Scully just kept quiet, willing him to continue and 
not shut up about this the way he normally did. Her 
patience was rewarded as a few moments later he 
continued.

"Every time I think I start to understand her, 
understand her motives and the reasoning behind them, 
there's another piece of information that contradicts 
what I thought or she says something that negates 
everything I've hypothesized." His confusion now rang 
out in his words.

"If she's as old as you think she might be, it's 
possible that her experiences have made her difficult 
to categorize." She ran and hand through her hair, 
hoping to prompt Mulder into bouncing ideas off her 
the way he often did. 

"There's more to this then age. One minute she's a 
child, the next a flirt and then she turns so cold-
blooded Krycek could take lessons from her. And why 
would a person at least 140 years old feel the need to 
eliminate fingerprints?" Mulder was poking holes in 
his own theories. That more than anything let Scully 
know how hard this whole situation was hitting him.

"What about the others?" she said, trying to divert 
his mind to more positive topics.

"Duncan MacLeod is the born leader. He feels 
responsible for those he considers under his 
protection. Jarod is your basic Boy Scout, out to help 
the little people. Very smart though." He turned back 
to watch the front of the Bar, his eyes darting back 
and forth as he scanned the street.

"You summed them up pretty quick." Her dry comment 
turned Mulder's attention back to her.

"They're both fairly straight forward people." He 
paused to spit a few more seeds into the cup, letting 
the splatter of rain take over the conversation for a 
few moments. Then he looked at her and grinned his 
usual, arrogant grin. "How about another twenty 
minutes and then we crash the party?"

                 ***********

After waiting outside the bar for the twenty minutes, 
the two agents stepped out of the rental car and into 
the streaming rain. The dash to the bar was quick but 
they were both noticeably damp as they ducked into the 
doorway. Coming through the front doors, their quarry 
was nowhere to be seen so, they inquired about Jane, 
Jarod and Duncan at the bar. They were waved into a 
back office where the group had gone to discuss some 
business. After they had flashed their ID of course. 

It was late on a rainy Saturday evening. There was no 
band scheduled for that night and with the rain, the 
bar was practically empty. But there was still a 
murmured buzz floating around the room over the ever-
present blues playing in the background. 

Leaving the warm atmosphere of the bar behind them, 
they walked over to an open door that revealed a table 
littered with papers and four people crowded around it 
in an earnest discussion. Mulder pricked his ears up 
and tried to make out the conversation.

They weren't quite at the door when he froze. There 
was long dark hair that strangled down a woman's back, 
curling madly since it was wet and leaving a damp spot 
on the back of her shirt. His mind flew back to when 
he was a kid: he and his sister had been swimming and 
now were heading back from the beach. 

Sam was in front of him, her long, wet hair tied back, 
swaying as she walked, leaving a damp streak down the 
shirt she'd put on over her swimsuit. She was 
chattering away animatedly at something he'd said 
earlier and hadn't even noticed that he'd fallen 
behind. 

She turned to say something to him and when he wasn't 
there, finally turned around to find him. She pouted 
for a moment, before she smiled her brilliant smile 
and waved at him to hurry up. When he complied she 
slipped her hand into his and turned her face up to 
him and smiled again. 

Mentally shaking himself, he returned to the present. 
He was in the doorway, Scully beside him. Locking back 
up his memories of Sam, he focused on the group in 
front of him and the four blank stares responding to 
the interruption.

                 ***********

". . . to be an Immortal. He has to be, how else would 
I know?" I was leaning over the table, trying to 
convince Joe. I understood his reluctance to reveal 
things from the Watcher Database, but I had no idea 
where else I could go to find out about this guy. Joe 
was my last chance, short of breaking into the 
Center's computers and I didn't have close to the 
skills I'd need for that.

"I can't. Aside from the fact I've already had trouble 
with this before, I'm not in charge of the database 
any more." Joe was being stubborn. He wanted to help 
me, but I don't think he was willing to let me go 
browse through the Watcher records just to satisfy my 
curiosity. "I don't even have a complete copy. Only 
the researchers and a few others have full access 
anymore. Since that fiasco in Paris. . . " 

Joe abruptly cut off as I looked over my shoulder at 
the two people walking in the office door. The rest 
followed my eyes as they rested on the two FBI agents. 
Mulder had paused in the doorway, a strange look 
crossing his face before it fled and then his direct 
gaze took the entire group in. Scully didn't seem to 
notice what had come over her partner and just raked 
everybody over with a glance uncannily similar to her 
partner's.

 "Oh. Hi. Have a seat and join the party, everyone 
else is here." My sarcasm cut the silence like a 
knife. After a moment I twisted around in my chair so 
I wasn't craning my neck at such an odd angle. Jarod 
looked at me, a little worried about my reaction, 
while Duncan simply put on an unassuming face and sat 
back. Joe followed Duncan example and leaned into his 
chair, swiveling the seat to get a better look at the 
agents. 

"Ms. Nygma, we were wondering if we could ask you a 
few more questions." Scully started the ball rolling. 

"You can ask, but I guarantee no answers." I gave up 
on twisting around and just moved the whole chair, so 
I could look at Mulder. I wondered how much I could 
irritate him this time.

"I don't believe you're amnesia story, so cut the 
bullshit and tell me who you are." His eyes were dark 
as he took some of his frustrations out on me. 
Evidently, I should be able to annoy the life out of 
him.

"Been there, done that, and the answers haven't 
changed. For all I know I could be the Queen of 
England. Nope, don't have the right accent for it." 
Looking at Scully I let a wicked grin pass over my 
face. "Then again, I could be your long lost, great 
aunt Anna who drowned on the Titanic." I looked up at 
his face, challenging him but his eyes stopped me 
cold. He just looked at me with those dark eyes and 
stared through my soul, awakening memories that 
rumbled around just out of my reach. Finally breaking 
eye contact he went and grabbed two chairs, waiting 
for his partner to sit before he joined her. Great. 
That meant this was going to take a while.

"Now." He said with a self-satisfied smirk, "Why would 
a simple waitress have no fingerprints?"

I immediately looked at my hands, bringing them to eye 
level to examine my fingertips. He was right! Rubbing 
them against the palm of my hand, the smooth surface 
slid across the skin in a familiar brush. This wasn't 
something new. I just hadn't clued into it.

"What do ya know, he's right." I held my hand out to 
Jarod sitting beside me, his warm hands holding mine 
up as he looked at them. "Must have burned them off 
years ago."

Turning back to Mulder, I grinned at him like a shark. 
"Thanks, I didn't realize that before." I was rewarded 
with his face turning red. Too bad it didn't last. 
After a moment he clamed down and the ball passed to 
Scully. 

She looked around the table, giving everyone a look 
that, while not out right hostile, was about as close 
as you could get without crossing the line. Then she 
smiled as she picked up on our faint unease, zeroing 
in on the interrupted conversation as the source. "So 
what are you talking about? We didn't mean to 
interrupt your conversation." Her voice had smoothed 
out to a velvet purr as she set us up for the 
downfall. 

I just gave her a nicely blank look, waiting to see 
what she'd come up with next.

"Not much really. Just a bit about international 
conspiracies and the fountain of youth for selected 
individuals." Did Jarod really just say that? And I 
thought I liked to push things. Looking over at him, 
he had an amused grin and his eyes danced.

"So the only thing you really have to worry about is 
keeping your head attached then?" Mulder jumped back 
in, looking smug.

Joe was, well, shocked. Jarod was quietly laughing 
while Duncan had just about passed out. I took it in 
stride. Sort of. This guy was pretty quick on the 
uptake. 

"Well that's just dandy." I threw my hands up in the 
air. "We're gonna have to kill them now. I hate it 
when this happens. Every time I decide to live a 
normal life for a few hundred years, someone has to 
come along and screw it up." Might as well throw in a 
little misdirection.

"Jane, what are you talking about?" Duncan was having 
a bit of a spaz.

"It's no use pretending anymore Duncan. It's obvious 
they know about me. First Georgie-Boy and now them. I 
suppose we could drag them into the alley and beat 
them senseless. What do you think?" I looked up 
expectantly at Jarod and Duncan.

"Very funny." Boy, Scully could get a dry edge to her 
voice. 

"Oh well, it was worth a try. I've really got to stop 
messing with peoples minds." Totally unrepentant, I 
started to gather up the papers that were on the 
table. 

Mulder wasn't convinced by my sarcasm and started 
digging again.

"Now that we have you all together, maybe you could 
explain how a man shot in the back of the head during 
a hostage situation is still very much alive and 
sitting at this table? They have a video of the entire 
scene at the police station."

Joe gave Duncan a very telling glance before looking 
away. I guess someone was supposed to get rid of a 
certain piece of evidence and did a sloppy job. 
Everybody else was silently pleaded the fifth.

"Or you could fill us in on a police officer with 
numerous aliases, but no history going back past the 
last three years." Mulder's statement actually had 
Jarod faintly squirming. It was an interesting sight 
to see and one not likely to be repeated anytime soon. 
I tucked it in my not so reliable memory to gloat over 
later.

I piled up more of the papers and pretty much had them 
all stacked when a picture slid out landing face up on 
the table in front of Mulder. It was one of the 
pictures Jarod had printed up from when I was at the 
Center. I was about thirteen, shorter, frizzy hair and 
all legs. Reaching out to pick it up, Mulder's hand 
landed on mine, painfully pressing it into the table.

"Where did you get that?" His voice was tight and 
strained, his face pale and his eyes wide. His partner 
moved forward and snagged the print. She was looking 
at it, her eye's straining slightly in the dim light 
as she nodded to herself.

"It's her." Scully looked up from the print to stare 
at her partner, but I wasn't noticing. My heart almost 
stopped and I could hardly pull in a shaky breath. 
They knew me? How could they possibly. . .  

"Who is she?" My voice was stressed and unsteady. I 
wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. Mulder looked 
me straight in the face, his hand still pressing on 
mine; his fingers now wrapped around my wrist. 

"That's my sister. Where is she!?" His face was 
tortured, his eyes haunted and his voice was harsh, 
getting louder as he spoke. My heart started up again 
and sped to the point of bursting. This was my 
brother?

"How. . . " I glanced uncertainly to Jarod, then 
Duncan, Joe and then back to Mulder.

"WHERE IS SHE!?!?!?"

There was silence in the room, except for a faint 
murmur coming in from the bar. Everyone was frozen 
unsure of what was happening and what to do next. The 
moment dragged out, till I destroyed it. I slammed my 
free hand against the one holding me, forcing Mulder 
to let me go. 

"Leave me alone." I growled. 

Sitting down heavily, I ignored the stares directed at 
me by the two agents. Picking up the picture from 
where Scully had left it, I ran a finger over print, 
tracing out my face. I didn't know what to think. 
Jarod came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. 
Looking up into his eyes, I saw his concern but also 
hope. Reaching out to give the picture back, Mulder 
snatched it out of my hand.

"What's her name?" My voice was soft, unsure and I was 
lost in my mind trying to remember something, anything 
about my life before. I didn't notice the scrutiny of 
Agent Scully. She eased the picture out of Mulder's 
hand where it hung listlessly. Mulder was just looking 
at me, like he was unwilling to see what was in front 
of him.

"Samantha." Scully was the one who answered me. 

Glancing up, I looked at . . .  was he really my 
brother? I had barely even started to try and find out 
about myself. I was so unsure of what I'd find and 
uncertain as to whether or not I really wanted to 
know. Now I was face to face with it, with the very 
beginning of who I was.

"This is you, isn't it?" Again, it was Scully who 
spoke. 

I looked at her. She was looking at the picture, then 
me, then back at the picture before finally resting 
her eyes on my face. I merely nodded, unable to get 
any words past the lump in my throat. Jarod looked at 
me, seeking permission to explain what had happened, 
part of it at least. Reaching a hand up to his, I 
looked at him, giving my consent.

"That was taken when she was held at an organization 
called the Center. They wiped her memory before she 
left though. She can't remember anything." At that, he 
looked over at Duncan and Joe and the three of them 
silently left the room. I just sat on my chair, 
looking at my feet.

"Mulder, do you want me to stay?" Scully looked at her 
partner, concern clearly written on her face. Mulder 
hadn't moved or said anything since she'd taken the 
picture out of his hand. Not getting an answer, she 
just placed the photo on the table beside the pile of 
forgotten papers and left, closing the door behind 
her.

                 ***********

'Was this possible,' he thought. 'Could she really be 
Samantha?' His mind was whirling, unable to fully 
grasp that what he'd been searching for was sitting in 
front of him. She was so hard and rude and obnoxious 
that he almost didn't want to believe it, but in her 
eyes, there was this lost look. Looking her over she 
just sat there, attitude gone, staring at her feet. 
Was this the girl he used to play Stratigo with and 
pull her hair when he was mad? There had been so many 
false leads and people showing up claiming to be her 
that now, it seemed impossible that he would ever find 
her. And so he doubted.

                 ***********

"What was she like?" I still couldn't reconcile the 
fact that the girl in the picture was me and yet was 
this man's sister. She wasn't me, couldn't be me, it 
couldn't be this easy to find out who I was. How could 
I be his sister?

"She was so young when she disappeared, barely eight. 
She was impulsive and stubborn. We were fighting when 
it happened. There was this light, so bright, I 
couldn't move. The walls were shaking and the game we 
were playing fell on the floor, the pieces scattering 
under the furniture." He sat there as unmoving as I 
was. My eyes unfocused as I became lost in the 
fragment of a memory, not even noticing the intense 
pounding in my head.

"I was floating and they were taking me away." There 
was light surrounding me, lifting me up. It was so 
cold, I wanted to shiver but I couldn't move. I was 
frozen. I didn't want to go, to leave behind my 
mother, my brother. But I couldn't do anything, my 
mouth was shut tight, the light filled my eyes 
blinding me. I had no choice! 

I struggled within myself, trying to break from the 
bonds that held me, trying to speak to call out to my 
brother. He would save me, if I could just call his 
name. I could feel him near me, but I still couldn't 
move. I struggled harder, trying to force the breath 
in my lungs out, to say his name. 

"Fox?"

Still lost in the past, I called out, barely able to 
force the one word out. I could feel my brother move, 
the force holding him no longer as strong, as he ran 
forward and grabbed my ankle, his hand holding me 
against the force taking me. But it was no use, I was 
too late, I called out too late and then I was gone.

I came out of the memory shivering, then looked up at 
my brother. I knew who he was, even if I couldn't 
remember much of anything else. This was Fox! 

"I was too late, I couldn't stop them! I tried!" He 
looked at me, his eyes dark and brooding as he leaned 
on the desk as if it was the only thing holding him 
up. "I tried."

Getting up, I went and stood beside him, wrapping one 
arm under his, holding him up, supporting him. I put a 
still shaking hand on his chin, pulling his head 
around so I could look him in the eyes. They were 
tired and so lost. They searched my face, looking for 
something, perhaps rejection, perhaps acceptance, 
perhaps merely for the face of his sister.

"It's okay, I understand." Now it was my turn to be 
uncertain "I tried to call you, to warn you, but I 
couldn't talk, I couldn't move. I didn't want to leave 
you." 

"What did they do to you?" Fox's voice was quiet, 
questioning, as though still blaming himself.

"I don't know."

                 ***********

Epilogue

This was getting confusing. Joe sat on his customary 
stool behind the bar and started to get out the 
makings of a Kill Devil. It wasn't exactly something 
that got ordered all that much, but he'd gotten the 
recipe off of a fellow Watcher who'd picked it up from 
his grandfather. It packed a punch, but it sure tasted 
good. Agent Scully soon followed them out of his 
office and with a bit of a shell shocked expression, 
was sitting at the bar. He put two glasses down and 
poured out the Rum and Brandy. He was already 
drizzling the honey before she noticed.

"I didn't order anything." Her tired eyes looked at 
his and she found her expression reflect back at her.

"No, but news like this should be accompanied by the 
proper refreshment. Try it," he said, picking his 
glass up.

She eyed it a while before taking a sip. It was sweet, 
but not too bad. Putting the glass back on the coaster 
she eyed Joe. He'd seemed to play more in the 
background with the investigation but from the look in 
his eyes, he was more involved than he let on. He took 
a big gulp of his glass, putting it down beside hers.

"Why was she running from the Center?" She looked up 
at him like he had all the answers.

"Not much for beating around the bush are you?" He 
smiled at her and she wondered just how much of a 
ladies man he'd been when he was younger. Scrap that, 
how much of one he was now. He had the sweetest smile 
that made you want to wrap yourself up in the comfort 
offered and never leave. But back to the issue at 
hand.

"Right now, I don't see a reason for it." She was 
going to have to do something about the sarcastic edge 
her voice seemed to be taking on in an almost 
permanent way.

He put the bottles back to give himself a chance to 
organize his thoughts, editing out the parts he 
couldn't mention. With everything that had happened, 
he felt a need to go back to the beginning. And he 
knew she would listen with an open mind.

"She came in about three months ago and started 
hanging around the bar," he started, falling into an 
easy cadence as he settled down to tell the story. 
"We'd talk and she eventually told me about not being 
able to remember anything. She didn't want to go to 
the police, so I asked a buddy of mine, a detective, 
for a favor. He came down and was going to ask her a 
few questions, unofficially of course. She spotted him 
before he was ten feet into the room. She didn't bolt 
until he actually walked up to her, but then she was 
out the door and gone for a week. 

"She finally showed up here again, looking like a 
scared rabbit and always staying near the doors. After 
another week she calmed down, but even she didn't know 
why she ran. She eventually hooked up with Jarod and 
since then she's found some things out." He paused his 
narrative to take another drink, swirling the liquid 
around in his glass before putting it back down. "From 
what she's told me, the Center is big, ruthless and 
powerful. And they have fingers in just about 
everything."

Scully felt a familiar shiver pass down her spine at 
the description. It sounded altogether too much like 
the forces at work in the government that she and 
Mulder were constantly coming in conflict with. Mulder 
had found enough evidence to know that they were the 
ones responsible for Samantha's disappearance.

"Sounds familiar." She sighed. It was more than 
possible that they were somehow connected to the 
Center. Something flickered around on the edge of her 
mind, pulling her back to the reason she was there in 
the first place. "That doesn't explain the headless 
corpse."

Joe's face closed up and the his eyes hardened, though 
the friendly smile never left his face. A few moments 
later, he made up some excuse and went to the other 
end of the bar, leaving her with her thoughts. She 
knew she'd hit a nerve, but wasn't sure what to do 
about it. There were a lot of different facts floating 
around in her mind that had yet to come together. 

Taking another sip of the drink in front of her, she 
let her mind unfocus, hoping to let her subconscious 
fit the pieces together. The only thing that seemed to 
come together was the fact that she should call the PD 
and tell the forensics department to forget about 
aging the picture. A few sips later she gave up 
rational thought completely. The whole situation was 
just getting too confusing.

                 ***********

End note as of July 1999: 

Well, it's done and this thing has more to come if you 
want it. The next book, Fountain of Youth, is finished 
and just in the process of some major editing. 
Considering I spent about a year editing the last one 
(it was started in spring of 98), you get a bit of an 
idea how long it takes me to go over things, but I'm 
hoping to get it done this summer and get the one 
after that out as well. I've actually got the next two 
written, but the second one sucked big time and really 
needs some major work. The third one is really good 
though. I think at least. 

Well, if you want to comment, by all means, no flames 
please. If you didn't like it, why are you still 
reading it? Cheers and helpful critiques more than 
welcome at axianna@home.com


Auspicious Beginnings

75