THE WITNESS


scene 26
Elsewhere
2:00 am

    Scott awoke disoriented...and groggy.  He tried to piece together 
what had happened.  Oh yes...Fox.  He groaned as he sat up slowly.  He 
was on some kind of cot, not unlike the kind found in jail cells.  He 
rubbed his eyes, then tried to focus on his surroundings.  It was a very 
austere room.  Not quite a jail cell, but close.  The gray walls were 
devoid of ornamentation, except for a light switch midway up the far wall 
next to the door.  One small window or ventilation shaft...he 
wasn't sure which since it was _really_ small.  The cot in which he sat 
was against the wall which held the window/grate. No windows on the door. 
and nothing else in the room. Not even a bucket in case nature called. 
*Where am I?  Where have they taken me?  Have they got Dad?  How will he 
find me if they haven't?* Scott forced down his panic.  His father 
couldn't find him if he didn't have his sphere.  And even if he did find 
him, _they_ would be waiting.
  He cautiously approached the door and tentatively tried the knob.  It 
was, of course, locked.  Which really wasn't a problem for people of his 
unique talents.  The million dollar question was, of course, what was 
behind door number one.  He had a suspicion it would be men with guns.  
Nasty men with big guns.  From what he'd seen when he'd been grabbed, 
before they'd sedated him, there was definite military involvement in 
this operation.  So what should he do.  He crouched down next to the 
keyhole and listened.  For a while he heard nothing.  Just as he was 
about to try his luck with the door, though, he heard a voice.  George 
Fox's voice.
  "What do you mean he doesn't have it?" Fox had that familiar 'I'm 
dealing with complete morons, aren't I' tone in his voice.  It sounded 
like he was coming out of a room nearby.
  "We searched him thoroughly as you asked, but we didn't find anything 
that matched the description of the item you gave us.  All he had on him 
was a set of keys and a wallet with some credit cards and a driver's 
license in the name of 'Scott Edwards'" replied a voice Scott didn't 
recognize.  "Perhaps he dropped it when we grabbed him."
  "He dropped it and you didn't see it?  You _idiot_!  Forrester can't 
find this place if the sphere isn't here!  This could ruin our whole 
plan!!  Why, oh why can I never get competent..."
  "Agent Fox!  Remember you are here by _my_ sufference.  I am in command 
here, not you.  Your role is to advise because you know Forrester best.  
Keep that in mind," said a new voice.  It sounded vaguely familiar.  
*Wait, that's the guy who asked me directions...I wonder who he is.  And 
who he works for.*  It didn't sound like a particularly friendly voice.  
Scott decided he'd rather be dealing with Fox alone.
  There was a brief silence before Fox replied, a bit more subdued. "Yes, 
of course.  But we do have a problem.  Without that sphere..."
  "You told us that this alien of yours is highly intelligent and that 
he's apparantly quite devoted to his offspring.  I'm sure he'll figure 
something out.  And we're ready for when he does." answered the 'man in 
charge'.  Scott heard footsteps coming his way.  He dashed back to the 
cot and lay back down as the door began to open.  He closed his eyelids 
most of the way, leaving just a slit through which he could observe what 
was going on while remaining to appear asleep.  George Fox and two other 
men entered the room.  Behind them he could see into the hallway beyond.  
A mirror on the far wall reflected two figures stationed on either side 
of the door...just as he'd suspected. He couldn't see them clearly at 
this distant, but he was sure they were armed.  The door shut firmly 
behind them as they entered.
  "Scott," Fox called softly as he approached the cot.  The other two men 
remained by the door.  The figure he recognized from the van was the 
taller of the two. He was holding a smoking cigarette in one hand. The 
shorter man was holding a gun, which was not, at the moment aimed at 
anyone in particular.  But Scott was pretty sure that any sudden moves 
would cause it to be suddenly pointing his way.
  "Scott, I know you're awake.  You might as well open your eyes," Fox 
continued.  Scott considered playing possum for a bit longer, but he had 
a feeling that those other two men were not the sort to tolerate 
uncooperativeness for very long.  He groaned and fidgetted before opening 
his eyes all the way.
  "That's better," Fox said as he motioned for Scott to sit up.  He did 
so, and glared at the men.
  "I asked for a non-smoking room," he said through gritted teeth.  That 
got no reaction, except a nervous glance from Fox towards the two men.  
  "Where's your father?" asked Fox.
  "You mean you don't know?  Good," replied Scott.
  "Answer the question," said the man with the gun.
  "I don't know. Last I saw him, he was back at the police station.  You 
could ask them.  I'm sure once you explain very carefully what you want 
him for they'll say 'Oh, certainly.  He's right over here.'"
  "Careful, Scott.  These men..._we_...mean business.  Things will go 
alot easier for you if you cooperate."
  "Ah, I see.  So you'll kill me quickly instead of slowly and painfully 
if I squeal, is that it?  Who are you trying to kid, Fox?  I know what 
you want us for.  I also know that you're way out of your jurisdiction 
and that you're not going to get answers by waving a big 'National 
Security' flag around.  Because this isn't the US.  And since I'm the 
only witness for a major homicide investigation, the Canadian authorities 
are going to be all over you when they find out you've kidnapped me."
  "And just what makes you think they're going to find out?" asked Fox 
with a devious grin.  "Even if they did, we're more than capable of 
handling a few nosy detectives."
  *Oh, if _only_ you knew* thought Scott.
  "We know your father will come after you. And when he does, we'll be 
waiting.  We were just trying to save everyone alot of trouble. In the 
end, we'll still get what we want.  And there isn't a thing you...or the 
Canadian authorities...can do about it," Fox finished smugly.
  "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but as you probably already 
noticed, I don't have my sphere.  Therefore, Dad can't find me.  And 
therefore you're as hosed as I am," Scott retorted, with a bravado he 
didn't feel.  The thought that his father would never find him filled him 
with despair, yet also with hope. Hope that his father would escape the 
clutches of these men.
  "We'll see about that.  Your father is very resourceful, Scott.  I'm 
sure he'll come up with something.  I know him...I know what he's capable 
of.  And I'm not going to make the mistake of underestimating him."
  Scott sighed in exasperation.  "You just don't get it, do you?  You say 
you know him...know us.  But you don't. You don't have a clue.  He's not 
a threat to national or international security.  He just wants to help 
and to learn.  He's not part of some interplanetary conspiracy to take 
over the Earth.  There aren't thousands of others like him contaminating 
the genetic pool or whatever it is you think he's doing.  There's just 
him and me.  Period.  And we just want to live our lives in peace.  He's 
never hurt anyone. Man, he even saved your life when he could have let 
you die so we could finally be free of you!"  But it was obvious that 
neither Fox or the other men in the room believed him.  He wondered why 
he'd even bothered.
  "Nice try, Scott.  But don't think you can fool us.  These men know 
even better than I do the _danger_ of letting you or him go.  And once we 
have you, will have the rest of them!"
  "You know, I think you watched V entirely too many times," Scott 
answered in disgust.  He turned away to study the wall.  Fox shook his 
head, then turned to leave.  Scott didn't bother to watch them exit the 
room.  As the door shut behind him, he pondered something George Fox had 
said. 'You're father is very resourceful, Scott.  I'm sure he'll come up 
with something.'  In that respect, Fox was right.  His father _was_ very 
resourceful...and they'd encountered a rather diverse array of resources 
that night.  
  
  Scott's 'cell' was on the second floor of what was supposedly a 
deserted old house on the edge of the city.  The house had been 
commandeered a few days earlier, and with an efficiency never dreamed of 
in more mundane areas of the government, converted into a base of 
operations for the small squad of what we shall call, for lack of a 
better term, 'alienbusters' from the US.  The team had to be kept small 
in order not to arouse suspicion.  If they'd had more time, it would have 
been a different story.  But word that Agents Mulder and Scully, who of 
late had a penchant for appearing at the most awkward places at the most 
inopportune times, were in Toronto, albeit on a seemingly unrelated 
investigation, had caused the alienbusters to shift into fast gear.  
Their leader, the man one operative often referred to as Will Smoke (as 
in 'Have Cigarette, Will Smoke'), had been a bit unhappy to learn that 
Scott Hayden, aka Edwards, was a witness in the very case Mulder and 
Scully were investigating.  It seemed almost as if there was some sort of 
divine conspiracy against the arch-conspirators themselves.  
  So now they had to work fast.  As a result, the set up was sort of 
make-shift.  Of course, for these people, 'make-shift' was considerably 
more impressive than most peoples' 'carefully planned and thoroughly 
executed'.  The grounds surrounding the house were equipped with multiple 
surveillance cameras and motion sensors, which were hooked up to moniter 
screens on the first floor.  The three major entrances were all wired as 
well, so that any unauthorized entrance (or egress) from the house would 
immediately set off an alarm.  Fox had made it plain that locks were 
totally ineffective against their quarry.  There were two sentries, each 
patrolling the grounds near the streets that flanked the property on the 
front and back.  More sentries would have been optimum, but there weren't 
enough people.  Three men kept an eye on the moniters on the first floor, 
and there were armed sentries at various positions inside the house.  
They had all been thoroughly briefed on the alien--his abilities, his 
disposition, etc.  And they had all been briefed on Agents Scully and Mulder
as well, especially the latter.  They were totally prepared for 
all conceivable eventualities.  And hopelessly, hideously unprepared for the 
utterly inconceivable eventuality that would arise.

   Some time after Fox and his cohorts had left, Scott rose out of his 
bunk and paced the room, wondering what to do.  The worse thing, besides 
being captured, was that there wasn't anything to _do_.  Nothing to look 
at, not even ceiling tiles to count.  He doubted the room would be any 
less interesting if he turned off the light.  He was way too nervous to 
sleep, and the drugs they'd given him had worn off long ago.  He wondered 
if he'd be able to see out the tiny window...if it was a window.  He was 
looking speculatively at the aperture when he heard a sound behind him.  
He whirled as a familiar voice said, "Thank God I found you!  Are you 
okay, kid?"
  "Al!  What are you doing here?  How did you find me?" Scott said in a 
hushed voice, not wanting to alert the guards outside his door.
  "One of the benefits of being a hologram with a connection to an AI 
computer from the future.  Listen, I don't have that much time to 
explain.  Sam has a plan to get you out of here, but you need to help us 
out a little.  First off, we need to figure out how to get everyone here?"
  "Can't you just go back and tell them where I am?"
  "It's not that easy.  I'd have to walk out of here and find the mailbox 
and read the street address.  And if there's no light nearby, well, I 
can't see in the dark. Besides which, I don't know if I can move that 
far...it's kind of hard to explain."
  "Okay.  So what's the plan?"
  Al took a deep breath.  Scott could tell by his expression that he was 
going to tell Scott something that made him nervous.  "Well, your mom 
recovered that silver ball thingie you dropped when those nozzles grabbed 
you.  Your dad says he can track it with his own silver ball thingie..."
  "Sphere."
  "Whatever.  Now, since you don't have the sphere, we needed to give the 
sphere to someone who has the ability to find out where you are.  I don't 
count because I can't touch anything.  However, Detective Knight has a 
few talents that prove useful in this situation."
  "You know he's a vampire?"
  "Um, yes.  We found all alot of interesting information about alot of 
interesting people not too long ago.  Which I don't want to go into 
because it gives me the screaming heebie-jeebies.  Suffice it to say that 
Knight has _very_ good hearing. And, as you probably already knew, he can 
fly.  So what we need for you to do is basically make noise."
  "Make noise?"
  "Talk, yell, sing, whatever.  So that Knight can hear you.  He'll be 
able to find you, and since he's got your sphere...."
  "Dad will be able to find him!  Wait...he can't come here.  It's a..."
  "Trap.  Yeah, I know.  I'm on surveillance duty to try and figure out 
what these yahoos have got planned.  Sam figures that they're going to be 
expecting an alien and perhaps even the FBI or police, but not what we've 
got on our team.  Don't worry kid.  These guys won't know what hit them.  
It'll be a real kick in the butt...on so many levels." Al grinned 
conspiratorily.  Scott grinned back.  He climbed up on the cot.  Standing 
up on it, he could just reach the mystery opening.  What luck, it _was_ a 
window.  An round, ornamental stain glassed window, he guessed.  He could 
feel the iron tracings.
  "Do you think he'll still hear me even though this is shut?"
  "It's worth a try.  At least you're in an outside room.  I'm gonna go 
let Sam and your father know you're alright and that we're ready to roll."
  "Okay.  Tell Dad I'm gonna sing his favorite song...that'll give Nick 
an idea of what to keep an ear out for.  Thanks, Al."
  "See ya soon, kid."  With that, Al punched a few buttons on his 
handlink and disappeared.  Scott waited for a few minutes, giving Al time 
to report back.  Then he began to sing.
  
  The guards outside the door moved very little, except to shift their 
weight.  They'd been trained for guard duty, so the hours of standing 
relatively still didn't faze them.  Their automatic rifles were held in 
what looked like a relaxed manner, but in a split second they could be 
aimed and fired.  Like everyone else in the alienbusters, they'd been 
handpicked and specially trained for missions such as this one.  They'd 
seen alot of strange things in their day, and very little fazed them.
  Even though, they exchanged somewhat curious glances when they heard 
the sound of Scott Hayden's voice singing what sounded like "Bop 
shewanny, wanny, shoobop, shewanny, wanny...."

scene 27
Parking lot, Coroner's building
2:30 am
{due to the nature of the upcoming sequences, the following scenes will 
be told in third person omnicient, instead of third person 
[alternating] major character}
  The group was gathered in the parking lot outside the Coroner's 
building.  They'd managed to sneak out without being noticed or asked any 
difficult questions, such as why a dead suspect was walking out with 
them.  It had been decided that they would split up into several 
parties.  In the agents' rental car would ride Mulder, Paul, Scully, and 
Jenny.  Paul would use the sphere to track Nick, while Mulder drove.  
Sam and the MacLeods would follow at a distance in Nick's car.(guided by the 
use of Mulder and Scully's cellular phones--Scully relay directions to 
Duncan, who'd in turn relay them to Sam who was driving).  Considering 
that one of their opponents was apparantly an Immortal, with the ability 
to sense other Immortals, it was decided to keep the MacLeods at a 
distance until they could use the Immortal sense to their advantage.  
Natalie would go to Nick's home, which they'd decided to use as their 
rendezvous point after the 'mission', after getting some groceries.  
Nick's place wasn't the most well stocked, and they'd probably all be 
very hungry afterwords.
  So now they were waiting for word from Al.  Sam had sent him off to 
locate Scott and let him know of their plan.  And, of course, to make 
sure he was alright and could help them find him.  Sam was aware of the 
possible weak point in his plan at this juncture--if Scott was 
unconscious, Al would have to find some other distinctive noise for Nick 
to home in on.  
  "I must say, I really like your car," Mulder was saying to Nick.
  "It has the most trunk space then any other car built in the last 30 
years," Nick replied.
  "Ah, and that's important...I take it because you have to move around 
alot?"
  "No, actually, it's in case I get caught...out."
  "Out?"
  "At sunrise."
  Mulder nodded in understanding.
  At that moment, Al appeared.  Of course, only Paul and Sam noticed, but 
everyone noticed them noticing.  
  "What's the word, Al?" Sam asked.
  "Scott's awake and more than ready to help. He said he'd be singing 
your favorite song..." Al replied, looking at Paul.
  A slow smile crept across Pauls' lips.  Then he demonstrated, to the 
confusion and amusement of Mulder, Scully, Jenny, Nick, and the MacLeods.
  Sam turned to Nick. "Okay, that's the song you're listening for." He 
turned back to Al. "Let Scott know we're on our way.  Then see what you 
can find out about the opposition."
  Al nodded.  Before he disappeared again, Paul added, "And tell Scott 
not to worry.  I'm coming...we're _all_ coming."
  Al gave Paul the thumbs up before disappearing.  Sam turned to the rest 
of them.
  "Okay, Al says we're all set.  Let's roll!"  
  As everyone else headed for their cars, Nick glanced around to make 
sure there was no unwanted attention.  He gripped the silver sphere Paul 
had handed to him tightly in one hand as he rose up into the air.  As he 
did so, he felt the sphere become warm.  He glanced down at it.  It was 
beginning to glow faintly.  He hoped it wouldn't burn.  He glanced back 
towards his companions.  He could see Paul looking up at him, his own 
sphere glowing as well.  Paul gave him a thumbs up as he got into the 
front passenger seat of the rental car.  Scully and Mulder were also 
looking up at him in amazement.  He grinned back at them, then headed off 
into the night.
  "So, Dr. Scully, what is your explanation for that?" asked Mulder as he 
turned over the engine of the car.  
  "Ask me when we get where we're going.  I'm sure I'll have thought of a 
snappy comeback by then," she replied from the back seat as she dialed 
the number to Mulder's phone. "Are you guys ready?" she asked when Duncan 
answered.
  "We're ready. Let's just hope _they're_ not," Duncan replied.  
Beside him, Sam settled into the driver's seat.  
  "Okay, Paul.  Which way do we go?" Mulder asked as he pulled  out of 
the parking lot.
  Paul paused for a second, deciphering the messages he was getting from 
his sphere. He pointed right.  "Nick went that way."

  Paul wasn't the only one aware of where Nick had gone.  On top of a 
nearby building, LaCroix watched Nick fly off into the night.  He also 
noticed the faint blue glow in Nick's hand.  For once he was almost glad 
that Nick's tendency to neglect most of his vampiric abilities made him 
somewhat insensitive to LaCroix's presence.  Especially when LaCroix 
didn't want to be noticed.  He watched first one car leave, then, five 
minutes later, the second. He waited until the tail lights of the trailing car 
were almost gone, then he, too, took to the air.  To follow and see what 
amusements awaited.
  
scene 28
On the Streets of Toronto
2:45 am
   "Take the next left," Duncan said to Sam as Scully passed along 
directions to him via Mulder's phone.  Sam nodded and carefully turned on 
to the next street. He hoped their destination wasn't too far away. He 
wasn't sure how long it would be before Captain Cohen realized they'd 
left the Coroner's Office and tried to track them down via the phone in 
Nick's car.  As if on cue, that phone began to ring.  Sam sighed, then 
picked it up.
  "Schanke here?"
  "Detective, this is Sargeant James at the desk.  We just got a call for 
a Duncan MacLeod--some guy who claims to be his lawyer.  Do you know 
where MacLeod went?"
  "Well, as a matter of fact, he's right here."  He passed the phone back 
to Duncan.  Duncan handed Mulder's phone to Connor in the rear seat.
  "Yes, this is Duncan MacLeod."
  "Okay, I'll transfer the call to you.  Make it brief, though."
  Duncan waited, then heard a click. "Hello?" 
  "Mac?  Is that you?"
  "Yeah, Joe.  What do you have for me?"
  "Not much.  The only Watchers in the area that I know of all have 
alibis.  Any luck at your end?"
  "Actually, I do have a description...but I think the guy's pretty much 
out of the picture."
  "What happened?"
  "You really don't want to know.  Look, maybe you can do something else 
for me.  Do you know of an Immortal called Hanson?"
  Connor shot Duncan a strange glance, wondering who he was talking to 
about Immortals.  Duncan's return glance clearly said 'I'll explain 
later.' Connor shrugged, then relayed the next directions to Sam.
  "Real nasty guy as I recall," Joe was saying.  "Don't know where he is 
at the moment..."
  "I do.  He's here."
  "What?!  Are you guys having a convention or something?"
  "If we are, no one bothered to tell me about it.  This Hanson guy just 
kidnapped the same young man who that Watcher attacked...and before you 
ask, it's really a long story and I'll tell you about it..some of it at 
least...when I get back in town."
  "I can't wait.  Do you want me to see what I can come up with on Hanson?"
  "Hmm.  As a matter of fact, that would be great, Joe," Duncan replied, 
thinking that an exchange of information with Mulder would insure that 
the FBI agent didn't breathe a word to anyone about the Immortals. Or the 
Watchers. Not that he didn't trust Mulder, exactly...but it never hurt to 
have extra insurance.
  "Okay.  Do you need it tonight?" from the tone in Joe's voice, Duncan 
could tell he hoped the answer would be 'no'.
  "No, that's alright.  I'll call you about it tomorrow.  Thanks again, Joe."
  "Just remember, you owe me dinner and a story when you get back in town."
  Duncan agreed, then hung up.
  "What was that about?" asked Sam.
  "Connections.  After 400 years, one has alot of them.  I'm just trying 
to get some useful information using mine," Duncan replied, trying to 
remain cryptic.  He didn't really want anyone else to know about the 
Watchers.  It was bad enough that he might have to explain it to Connor.
  Sam seemed about to ask him more about it, when he suddenly focused 
attention on the empty seat directly behind him. "What have you got for 
me, Al?" he asked.
  "Well, I've been doing that reconnaissance that you asked, and I've 
gotta tell you, Sam, these guys are armed to the teeth.  I count about 15 
of them in the house.  There may be more outside, but I couldn't tell.  
They've also got moniters linked to cameras. Probably about 8 cameras 
outside and 6 or so inside.  Kind of alot for the three guys they've got to 
monitor."
  "That's what I'm counting on.  What else?"
  "Okay, with the guys in the monitor room are two guards watching the 
doors in and out.  There's two guys outside the door where Scott is, plus 
six more scattered throughout the house doing various things.  Their 
position isn't constant.  Looks like they were only able 
to bring in a limited number of people, but they're sure making the best 
of it."
  "What about the other two?  That only counts for 13"
  "Oh yeah.  Well, there's this one short guy who's really hyper.  I 
think he may be this George Fox guy.  And the one who seems to be in 
charge.  You can spot him by the cloud of cigarette smoke around him."
  "Okay, good.  Thanks, Al.  That helps alot.  Do you think you could 
help me make a schematic of the place?  Between you and Nick's aerial 
surveillance, we should be able to have a good enough picture of the 
place in order to plan our assault."
  "I'll do my best.  I better go tell Paul what's going on."
  Sam nodded. "Oh, you better home in on Nick and see how close he's 
getting.  Make sure you tell Paul when they're getting close so they know 
when to stop."
  
  "Which way now?" asked Mulder as they came to an intersection.
  "Keep going straight.  I think he's slowing down, so we must be close," 
Paul replied.  In the back seat, Scully relayed the next set of 
directions to Connor MacLeod, who'd taken over for Duncan a few minutes 
previously.  Jenny sat silently beside her, praying yet again for her 
son's safety.  And sending her thanks that they'd found help in rescuing him.
  Mulder squirmed a bit in his seat.  He couldn't seem to get 
comfortable.  Something in his coat seemed to be jabbing at him, but he 
couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.  Unless it was some 
unusual form of pocket lint.  
  Beside him, Paul turned suddenly to the window.  Al had appeared 
outside the door, seemingly moving along with the car.  Paul raised one 
eyebrow curiously.  "Hello, Al?"
  "Al's here?" Mulder asked rather unnecessarily from the driver's seat, 
looking where Paul had directed his gaze. He, of course, saw nothing but 
Paul's answering nod.  As Paul listened, Al relayed some of the same 
information he'd told Sam, also adding that Scott was still unharmed and 
that, in fact, he'd been kind of ignored for the moment.  Even with his 
singing of what Al thought was a rather repetitive melody.
  "Ask him how close we are," Mulder said.  Paul did.  
  "I'm not sure since I couldn't get too far beyond the confines of the 
building.  I'll check on Nick's progress," Al replied.  Paul relayed the 
information to Mulder as Al disappeared.

  High above the cars, Nick soared through the night.  After setting off 
in a likely direction, he'd been rewarded by picking up sound of Scott's 
singing.  He homed in on it at a moderate pace, not wanting to 
outdistance the cars by too much.  Now he spotted a likely looking 
building: an old house on an isolated plot of land near the edge of the 
city.  A fair distance away from the nearest neighbors and surrounded by 
wooded regions--a good place to hide covert activities.  Nick listened 
closely. Yes, Scott's voice was coming from a small window on the second 
floor.  Nick hovered down beside it, and listened.  Then he tapped 
lightly on the glass.
   Inside, Scott stopped his singing, hoping the sudden cessation of 
noise wouldn't alert the guards.  Then again, nothing had happened when 
he'd _started_ singing...maybe they'd just think he dosed off or 
something.  He whispered, "Detective Knight, if that's you, tap three 
times on the glass."
  There were three taps on the window above him.  Scott silently 
cheered.  *Alright!  The cavalry is _here_!*
  Just then, Al appeared in front of him. "Okay, kid.  Looks like they 
found you.  I better make sure everyone stays back until we're ready. You 
better stay near the door, if you can.  Tell Knight to rendezvous with 
the others so we can work on the plan."  Scott nodded.
  "Detective Knight," he whispered to the window. "Al's here.  He says 
you'd better meet with the others so you guys can plan.  I'll be 
waiting.  And thanks again for your help."  There was an answering tap on 
the glass.
  Outside, Nick rose higher into the air before turning back to meet with 
the others.

  "Stop the car.  Nick's stopped moving.  I think we're pretty close," 
Paul said.  At that instant, Al appeared on the road ahead, waving his 
arms to warn them to stop.  Fortunately, Mulder had slowed down 
sufficiently so as not to run through Al.  Not that it would've hurt 
anyone, but it would have been rather rude.
  "There's a driveway just on the other side of those trees--I can just 
make out the white stones bordering it from here," said Mulder.
  "That's the place," Al told Paul, who in turn informed the rest.  
Mulder turned off the car as they made ready to exit.  As he undid his 
seatbelt, he felt something poke him in the side again.
  "Ouch!"
  "Mulder, what's wrong?"
  "I don't know, Scully.  It's like there's something in this coat that 
keeps sticking me. Never mind, let's see if we can find Nick..."
  Nick landed just behind him, making Scully jump in startlement.  She 
realized that she'd been too busy on the phone to come up with a really 
good response to Mulder's earlier question about her explanation for 
Nick's..ability. 
  "Sam and the MacLeods are a few blocks back.  I told them to stop the 
car.  Just to make sure we don't alert the Immortal inside, I suggest we 
meet them at my car," Nick said.  Everyone agreed.  In a few minutes, the 
group was gathered around Nick's distinctive automobile.  Sam pulled out 
a large piece of paper and a pen and, with help from Nick and Al, drew a 
diagram of the house. Then he began to outline his idea for the rescue.  
The others made some suggestions and corrections, which were incorporated 
into the over all idea.  Sam then sent Al back to the house for one final 
reconnaisance to make sure they hadn't missed anything.  As they waited 
for the hologram's return, Connor turned to Duncan.
  "Are you sure you want to go through with your part of the plan.  It 
sounds a bit risky.  What if I can't distract Hanson long enough and he 
finds you out?  And what if you can't get ahold of a weapon in time?"
  "What do you mean...I already have a weapon.  It's right..." he began 
to fumble in his coat. "Wait!  Where is it?"
  "Where's what?" asked Mulder, beginning to get a suspicion about what 
had happened.  He reached into his own coat as Duncan answered.
  "My katana!  I had it right here in my coat."
  "You mean this?" Mulder replied, pulling the sword out of the folds of 
the coat...Duncan's coat...that he'd erroneously picked up as they were 
leaving the Coroner's building.  Mulder had taken his off prior to the 
incident with Murdoc, and Duncan had removed his afterwords, when they 
were cleaning up.  Obviously the two had gotten mixed up.  There were 
entirely too many trench coats floating around that evening.  A quick 
glance around the group determined that Jenny and Paul were the only two 
_not_ wearing them.  Another little oddity in an evening full of them.
  "Ah, yes.  That would be it," Duncan replied.  He reached into the 
pockets of Mulder's coat that he was wearing, and pulled out four 
stopwatches.  "I wondered what these were doing there."
   The two exchanged coats as the group continued waiting nervously for 
Al's return.  He wasn't long.
  "Sam, you'll never believe what they're doing now!" Al said excitedly.
  "What is it, Al?  Is Scott okay?  They're not moving him or anything 
are they?" Sam asked nervously.  
  "No, no.  Nothing like that.  You're gonna love it--someone in there 
just ordered a pizza!"
  "What?  At 3:30 in the morning?"
  "What's going on?" asked Mulder.  Sam shook his head and laughed.
  "They've ordered pizza.  I thought you said these guys were 
professionals?"
  "Don't professionals get hungry, too?" asked Paul.
  "Yeah, I guess so.  But it seems a little strange," replied Sam.
  "They probably don't expect that a pizza delivery boy is going to give 
them any trouble," Nick pointed out.
  "Well, I don't know about you, but I think this is just too good of an 
opportunity to pass up.  I think we can work it into our plan, and it 
makes it a whole lot easier to get in the front door.  The only 
question is, who gets to be the pizza delivery boy?" said Mulder.  Everyone 
turned and looked at him.  "Somehow, I just _knew_ that would be the answer."
  "Can you seriously see anyone else here pulling it off?" asked Scully.  
Mulder looked around at their group.  He had to admit, he definitely was 
the best choice of the group.
  "Okay, but only if you come with me. After all, at this hour, I doubt 
the delivery guys work alone."
  "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world," Scully replied with a grin.

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

scene 29
Inside, Outside, and All Around
4:00am
  
  "This is Detective Nick Knight, requesting backup at 4242 Milliways 
Drive...yes, we think we've found the kidnappers and it looks like 
they're some sort of paramilitary group.  Request that you also inform 
the RCMP.  Agents Mulder, Scully, and Detective Schanke and myself are 
preparing to investigate the situation further.  We believe Scott Edwards 
may be in some immediate danger.  Please respond as soon as 
possible....we'll try to wait as long as possible, but we may have to go 
in to rescue Scott."
     
   The man the MacLeods knew as Hanson and Mulder knew as Cancer Man 
stood silently working his way through his 30th cigarette of the 
evening.  Or maybe his 31st.  He'd lost count.  Not that it 
mattered--they really couldn't do anything to him.  That was one of the 
many perks about being an Immortal.  In fact, the only drawback he'd 
found was the "inability" to age.  Which was something of a hindrance to 
long-term employment, especially when working in highly paranoid 
organizations such as this one.  Fortunately he'd discovered the 
versatility of makeup and, over-time he'd acquired some skill at making 
himself appear older than he really _appeared_...though still far younger 
than he actually _was_. 
   Now he watched, along with the rest of them.  Watched and waited for a 
sign of the alien's approach.  He would be glad when they'd gotten rid of 
this threat.  Unlike Fox and most of his own associates, he didn't really 
believe the alien was a threat to national security.  He had bigger 
concerns.  One day, one Immortal would win the Prize...and like most 
Immortals, Hanson hoped it would be him.  On that day, the winner would 
have the knowledge and power to rule over the mortal world...as long as 
some interloping extraterrestrial didn't take over first.  This world, by 
rights, belonged to the Immortals, at least in Hanson's mind.  Therefore 
extraterrestrials, with their advanced technology and, often, greater 
intellect, must be hunted down and exterminated as soon as possible, 
before they had a chance to strengthen their position and take over.  Of 
course, he had no qualms about stealing their advanced technology, as 
long as the inventors themselves could no longer use it against the 
citizens of this planet.  Which he hoped would one day be _his_.
  Even as he mused about winning the Prize for himself, he felt it.  The 
presence of another Immortal nearby.  He thoughtfully took one last puff on 
his cigarette before crushing it in the nearby ashtray.  There was 
nothing on the moniters...wait, what was that streak?  
  "Did you just see something?" lieutenant Michaelson asked lieutenant 
Striker, seated next to him as he pointed at the moniter Hanson had noticed.
  "Nothing from the motion detectors.  Maybe you're just seeing things.  
It's been a long night," Striker replied.  Everyone watched the moniter 
for a few more seconds, just to be sure.  Nothing.  
  "Do you think we should send someone to investigate, sir?" Michaelson 
turned to where Hanson had been standing just moments before.  But he was 
gone.  Michaelson, used to the silent comings and goings of the man in 
charge, just shrugged and returned to watching the moniters.  If 
something needed to be done, ole 'Will Smoke' would see to it.
  Hanson, _was_ seeing to it, in a manner of speaking. He wasn't sure 
exactly where the other Immortal was, but he decided to head in the 
direction where the offending moniter was located.  The streak he'd seen 
was probably nothing, but at least it gave him a place to start.  He 
pulled out his automatic pistol as he opened the side door.  He didn't 
particularly feel like fighting fairly tonight--there was too much else 
to do.  As he shut the door behind him, he also pulled out another 
weapon--a cross-handled Crusader's sword.

  The blur that had registered briefly on the inside moniters had been 
Nick flying down to knock out the guard patrolling the back property.  
He'd waited until the man was in between the cameras' (which he could 
detect using his heat-sensitive vision) visual range so that no one 
inside would see him.  Once the guard was unconscious, he grabbed the 
man's rifle and shot back to where Connor waited hidden in the trees.  
Close enough for Hanson to sense him, but not where anyone could see 
him.  He handed the rifle to Connor.
  "Okay, this should make sure he doesn't just shoot you as soon as he 
sees you.  Are you sure you can take care of him?"
  "Mostly sure.  I can at least keep him occupied until Duncan is safely 
inside and I get the signal that Scott's out."
  Nick nodded. "And as soon as you get the all clear, you best get out of 
here ASAP.  I'd hate to have to explain to the Captain what our dead 
suspect is doing swinging a sword at covert US government agents."
  Connor grinned as he shouldered the gun and gave Nick the thumbs up.  
Nick nodded and rose up into the air.  Connor shot him a glance as he 
soared upwards, then he returned his vision to the door from which he was 
fairly certain Hanson would appear.  He didn't have long to wait.  In a 
few minutes, the man appeared at the door.  Connor drew his sword with 
his right hand and gripped the rifle in his left.  Hanson also was doubly 
armed, and he cautiously made his way forward.  He wasn't sure exactly 
where Connor was.  Connor debated letting him sweat awhile longer, but 
decided it was time to get things rolling.  Al, who was invisibly 
watching nearby, would inform Sam when he and Hanson were engaged....and 
Sam would inform Duncan it was time for his part in the plan.  Connor 
silently wished his clansman luck as he stepped out of the wooded area.  
  "Hanson!" he yelled.  "I've come for your head!"
  Hanson wheeled and faced in his direction.  As he raised the handgun he 
held, Connor flourished his rifle.
  "Don't even think about!  We're going to do this the _right_ way." 
Hanson approached slowly debating his options.  Then he shrugged and 
tossed down the handgun.  Connor grinned and tossed aside the rifle.  
Both raised their swords and stalked towards each other.
  Al, who was, in fact, watching the goings-on, nodded as Connor and 
Hanson engaged each other.  He pressed some buttons on the handlink and 
suddenly found himself next to where Sam and Duncan crouched in the trees 
at the other side of the house.
  "Sam, tell Duncan that Hanson is out of the house and is busy with his 
friend."  Sam nodded and relayed the message to Duncan, adding, "Are you 
sure you're ready for this?"
  "Well, to be honest, no.  But I agree with you that it's the best way 
to get me into the house.  So here goes."  With that, Duncan snuck out of 
the trees and headed towards the house.  His job was, basically, 
to sneak toward one of the windows on this side of the house and break 
in.  Or at least, to _look_ as if that was what he was up to.  The key 
part was that he had to fail.  This was accomplished by sneaking across 
part of the area patrolled by the second guard.  Duncan made it about 
three-quarters of the way across before the guard spotted him.
  "Halt!" the guard yelled.  Instead, Duncan wheeled to face him and made 
as if he was drawing some sort of weapon out of his coat.  The guard 
hesitated only a moment before shooting Duncan in the chest.  
Immediately, his radio buzzed as the occupants of the house called to 
question what had happened.  From his vantage point, Sam couldn't quite 
hear what was said, but he surmised the guard was calling someone to come 
out and take care of the "body".  With any luck, they'd decide to drag 
Duncan into the house so as to get him out of sight ASAP.  Sam watched as 
two men came around the house and picked up Duncan.  The exchanged a few 
words with the guard before carrying Duncan back into the house.  Score 
one for the good guys.  The guard watched them carry Duncan away.  Which 
meant he wasn't looking up when Nick dropped on him from the sky.  Nick 
carried the unconscious guard over to where Sam was still hiding.
  "Okay, that's both of them.  Fortunately the cameras don't cover as 
well on this side since there's no door.  So you should be able to sneak 
over to the window with out much trouble," Nick said as he handed the 
guard's rifle to Sam.
  "I have Al to watch my back for me.  See you inside."  
  Nick nodded and watched as Sam began heading stealthily towards the 
house.  Then he shot up into the sky to take up his position by the 
second story window that was closest to where Scott was being held. From 
there, he could keep an ear open for when Duncan woke up...


  "You know, this is the reason I really hate making late night 
deliveries with you."
  "Come on, this is classic stuff!  I thought you liked sixties rock?"
  "The Monkees do _not_ qualify as classic sixties rock."
  "You've just been brainwashed by all the anti-Monkees propaganda.  If 
you actually _listen_ to the music, it's great stuff.  I saw you tapping 
your foot to 'Randy Scouse Git', humming along with 'Early Morning 
Blues and Greens', and nodding your head along with 'No Time'. Admit 
it, when you didn't _know_ it was the Monkees, you actually liked it!"
  "I cannot believe we're actually having this conversation.  Anyway, are 
you sure you have the address right?  There aren't many places out here."
  "I checked it twice.  This is the right street, I'm...WHAT THE HECK!" 
the driver slammed on his brakes as a figure appeared in his headlights, 
waving his arms.  In one hand he appeared to be holding a badge.  As the 
car came to a halt, the figure resolved itself as Fox Mulder. He 
approached the car.
  "FBI!  We need to use your car.  Please step outside."
  "FBI?  But this is Canada...you guys aren't supposed to be here.  And 
what are we supposed to do without our car on a lonely road at night?"
  Mulder sighed. "I don't have time to explain--please, it's urgent 
police business."  He pulled out the keys to the rental car. "Take our 
vehicle and drive back down the street.  You should run into some other 
police cars headed in this direction."
  "What's going on?"
  "Can you please just step out of the car?  The address you were headed 
to houses what we believe to be some sort of covert paramilitary group.  
Your lives may be in danger if you remain in the vicinity."  The serious 
look on Mulder's face and the tone in his voice convinced the two young 
men.  They exchanged looks and stepped out of the car.  Mulder handed the 
driver his keys and nodded to the rental car at the side of the road.  
Scully stood by the car, fiddling with her hair.  She'd exchanged clothes 
with Jenny (who was fortunately roughly her size) so that she was now 
wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.  Much more appropriate clothing for 
someone delivering pizza than, say, a woman's business suit.   As the 
young men headed to the car, Mulder motioned for Scully to join him at 
the pizza delivery car.  Then he thought of something else.
  "Excuse me?  Can we borrow your hats?"
  The two young men obligingly removed their 'Pronto Pizza' hats and 
handed them to the FBI agents.  Mulder waited until they were in the 
rental car and had headed back down the road before he slipped into the 
driver seat.  Scully was already seated in the passenger side.
  "Mulder, if these men really are associated with the man you call 
'Cancer Man', they probably know we're in the area and may be looking for 
us.  Do you really think we can fool them?"
  "If Superman can convince people he's someone totally different just by 
changing clothes and wearing glasses, why can't we?"  So saying, Mulder 
put on his reading glasses. He also pulled some chewing gum out of his 
pocket and started chewing in his best "insolent teenager" imitation.  He 
hiked his voice up a few octaves and said, "Are we ready, Dana?"
  Scully just shook her head as he grinned and started the car.  She 
personally thought their best bet was the distraction Paul was going to 
provide for them.

  "Heads up!  Here's the target," Michaelson said.  He nodded at his 
moniter.  The figure of Paul Forrester could be seen slowly approaching 
the edge of the outside camera's range.  In his hand something was 
glowing.  The color couldn't be seen on the moniter, which showed things 
in the eerie green color of dark-penetrating visuals, but Michaelsons 
guessed it was one of those silver sphere things Fox had mentioned.  
Speaking of Fox, he better let him know they'd sighted Forrester. He 
picked up one of the in-house communication devices, aka Walkie Talkie.
  "Agent Fox?  We've got a visual on Forrester.  Should we send out men 
to intercept?"
  "No!  Not yet.  Let him get into the house.  We've got a better chance 
of cornering him in here.  I don't want him to get away.  Don't do 
anything to spook him!  Just watch him and let me know when he gets 
close."
  "Yessir."
  At that moment, Michaelson heard the faint sound of gunfire from the 
east perimeter of the house.  Where they didn't have cameras.  One of the 
guards in the room immediately radioed to the outside guard to find out 
what happened.  Michaelson looked back at the moniter showing their 
target.  If Forrester had heard the gunshots, he wasn't fazed by them.  
He may have been too intent on his search for his son to notice, for 
which Michaelson was extremely grateful.  The last thing they wanted now 
was for the alien to be scared off.
  "Sounds like Peters just shot a prowler.  Fool tried to pull something 
on him," said the guard who'd radioed outside.  "It's being taken care of."
  "Just as long as the body's out of sight," replied Michaelson.  All 
eyes returned to the moniter showing Forrester.  It had suddenly become 
the center of attention.   Which was all according to plan.  Therefore, 
Michaelson was rather distracted when Jones poked him in the ribs.  Jones 
pointed at the moniter showing the front drive.
  "Looks like your pizza's here.  You better get it and get them outta 
here ASAP."
  Michaelson nodded and headed for the front door.  He had the door open 
as the two delivery people approached.  He stepped outside, leaving the 
door slightly ajar behind him and fumbled in his pocket for the money.
  "Boy, you really can't wait for this pizza," joked the youngish looking 
man holding the pizza.  Michaelson didn't have time to banty words with 
the man.
  "How much?" he said tersely, his mind on the goings-on in the nearby 
moniter room.
  "$11.21" the young woman, probably along for 'company' or back-up, replied.
As Michaelson counted out the appropriate amount of money, the young man 
said, "By the way, are you familiar with our two-for-one special?"
  Michaelson grunted a non-committal reply.  Apparantly non-plussed, the 
man continued, "With every one pizza you buy you get....two federal agents!"
  Michaelson snapped his head up and found himself looking at two guns 
pointed at his head.
  

=====================================================================
======


From: martin@PROBLEM_WITH_INEWS_GATEWAY_FILE (Michele Martin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: XOVER: The Witness pt 22/?
Date: 1 May 1995 17:14:15 GMT


scene 29 (cont)
   George Fox paced impatiently in the upstairs room. He had just gotten 
word from one of the men watching the moniters downstairs that Forrester 
had been sighted.  Every cell in his body screamed at him to get down there 
and supervise.  But the man who was, Fox admitted sullenly, _really_ in 
charge of this operation had warned him not to get in the way of 
operations downstairs. Probably because Fox had bungled so many attempts 
at capturing the alien in the past. He was along strictly to advise.  The 
man downstairs had accepted his "advice" not to go after Forrester just 
yet, but that was probably the limit of Fox's power at this point. So now 
he waited for further word or for one of the alarms to sound that would 
indicate Forrester was coming in. 
   He returned to his desk in the corner, which was strewn with papers 
and photos and just about everything he and the government had on Paul 
Forrester and Scott Hayden.  Finally, it looked like all his efforts 
would pay off. No one would laugh at him and call him a lunatic after 
this evening!  Or so he thought...actually, he couldn't have been more wrong.
  There was a preremptory  knock at the door.  Before he could answer, 
one of the armed guards flung it open and gestured to someone outside.  
Two other guards came in, carrying someone between them.  A man with long 
dark hair and a long dark trenchcoat over a bloodstained white shirt and 
pants.  A man who was obviously dead.
  "What's the meaning of this?!  Who is this person and why are you 
bringing him in here?" Fox demanded.
  "Sorry, sir.  This man was attempting to break into the premises.  He 
failed to heed the warnings of one of the guards and was shot.  He 
appeared to be reaching for some kind of weapon when he was shot, but we 
couldn't find anything on him.  Not even any identification.  We need a 
place to put him where we can be sure the target won't see him once he 
enters the premises.  We can dispose of him after the target is taken 
care of."
  Fox sighed in frustration.  It didn't seem to matter to the guards that a 
dead body just _might_ be a bit distracting for _him_.  The only thing 
that made this entire situation tolerable was the imminent capture of 
Forrester.  Fox waved the guards over to a corner where they could 
deposit the body.  He absently wondered who the man was and why he had 
tried to break into the place.  Maybe its isolated location made it a 
target as well as a good base of operations.  No matter.  Fox wasn't 
especially fond of killing in any form, but this whole matter was too 
important for niceties.  Besides, the man had been engaged in illegal 
activity and now he'd paid the ultimate price for his foolishness.
  After placing the man on the floor, the guards left.  Fox returned to 
his seat and flipped through the papers on the desk.  So many near 
misses!  So many times when Forrester's unerring knack to get on the best 
sied of just about everyone he met had provided him with naive assistance 
in his escape.  Not this time, though!  Fox took a few deep breaths to 
try and calm himself down.  Ever since his near-death experience that 
time when he'd actually caught Forrester and the boy only to have them 
rescued by Jenny Hayden's brother he'd tried not to get too stressed out 
or over-excited.  He didn't want to risk another heart attack.  Not when 
he was so close!
  As he reflected on his past experiences with Forrester and Hayden, he 
thought he heard a noise from the corner.  Where the dead man had been 
placed.  He looked over at the body, then shook his head.  Now was not 
the time to be hallucinating.  He turned back to his papers just as the 
lights went out.  At last!  Forrester was very close--perhaps already in 
the house.  He grabbed the walkie-talkie as he headed toward the door.  
As he turned the knob, he signalled to the moniter room downstairs.
  "What's happening? Where is he?"
  Silence
  "What's going on?  Hello? Hello?  Talk to me, dammit!"
  More silence.
  He growled in frustration and tossed the radio to the floor.  "Looks 
like I'll have to go see for myself afterall...."  At that moment he felt 
something poke him in the back.  A hand grabbed his shoulder as 
something cold and sharp touched his throat.
  "I'd rather see what you have in the next room, myself.  If you move 
slowly and don't try anything you may live long enough to see what's 
happening downstairs.  I really don't want to hurt you, but I've been 
having a bad evening and I might just decide to take it out on somebody," 
said a slightly accented voice in Fox's ear.  *What the heck?*
  "Who are you?  What do you want?  And _where_ did you come from?"
  The sword (that's what the sharp, cold thing apparantly was) stayed at 
his throat as the man casually strolled around to where Fox could see 
him.  There was no mistaking it--this was the man who the guards had 
brought in only minutes ago.  The man who had been very dead.
  "Much as I'd love to chat with you, Fox, I have some other pressing 
business to attend to.  Now, I know that Scott is next door and that 
there are two guards right outside his room.  You're going to come with 
me and unlock that door for me."
  Fox's mouth worked silently for a few milliseconds as his brain tried 
to process what was happening.  It had to have something to do with the 
alien.  He'd seen Forrester heal people before; in fact, he had once been 
told that Forrester had healed him, but he never believed it.  But from 
this distance?  And where had the sword come from?  The guards had said 
they'd searched the body and found nothing.  Finally, he managed to 
answer the man.
  "Forget it!  As you said, there are two armed guards outside.  You'll 
never get out of here alive! You might as well let me go now."
  "Oh, did I forget to mention that someone else is taking care of the 
guards?"  As the man said this, Fox heard the crash of breaking glass--as 
if someone had broken through the hall window.  Which was almost 
impossible since they were on the second floor.  His assailant flung open 
the door and pulled Fox out into the hallway with him, sword still at the 
agent's throat.  Fox gasped at what he saw.  One guard had apparantly be 
thrown halfway down the hall. His gun was a twisted metal wreck along the 
far wall.  The other guard was being held by the throat a foot off the 
ground.  Held by a man...with glowing yellow eyes and white fangs.  The 
man growled and tossed the guard aside as he turned and faced Fox and his 
captor.  The fangs seemed to retreat and the eyes turned back to a more 
human color.
  "Did you get the keys?" this second man...or whatever he was...asked.
  "Keys? Oh, right.  Sorry.  Okay, Fox, hand them over."
  Fox stared at first one man, then the other, his brain working overtime 
to try and make sense of what had just happened.  He could hear the 
groans from the disabled guards.
  "I think he's gone into shock or something, Nick.  Could you 
possibly..." began Fox's captor.
  "I wonder what could possibly have caused that?  I think I can handle 
the door," the other responded. He pounded on the door. "Scott?  Are you 
in there?"
  "Yes, detective?  What's happening?  Did you take care of the guards?  
Where's my father?  Is everything all right?" Scott's voice replied.
  "Whoa, hold on there.  One thing at a time.  The cavalry is here.  Just 
a second," with that, the man reached for the door knob and yanked it, 
hard.  The door flew open.
  "Far out!" Scott exclaimed as he surveyed the mayhem outside his 
prison.  He saw Fox and his captor and waved.  "Well, Fox, looks like you 
lost again.  This time, though, I think you may be in real trouble.  Am I 
right, detective?"
  The 'detective' grinned, then reached into his trenchcoat and pulled 
out two things.  One was Scott's sphere, which he handed to the young 
man.  The other was a badge.
  "Metro homicide, Mr. Fox.  I'm detective Nick Knight, and I'm afraid 
you're under arrest for the kidnapping of a principle witness in a 
homicide investigation.  In fact, I believe my back up may be almost 
here," Nick said in a meaningful tone, glancing at the man behind Fox.  
Fox felt the sword withdraw. He rubbed his neck, wondering where the rest 
of _his_ backup was.  Where were all the other guards?  Why hadn't 
someone investigated the noises from up here.  And who...or what...was 
this 'homicide detective'?  How had he disabled the guards?  And what did 
he have to do with a dead man armed with a sword?  All these questions 
rushed through Fox's mind as Nick reached out and handcuffed him. He was 
too shocked to act...too shocked, too angry, too confused, and too 
frustrated.  It looked like he'd been foiled again.  Unless...
  "Wait a minute.  I protest...the other man, he threatened me with a 
sword!  That's an illegal arrest procedure, I'm sure of it!"
  "What other man?" Knight asked innocently.
  Fox spun around. "That..." But his former captor was nowhere to be 
seen. "You know very well who I mean.  The man who was supposed to be 
dead who materialized a sword out of God knows where and threatened to 
cut my throat!"
  Scott and Knight exchanged glances. "Um, I don't think you should let 
anyone else hear you talking like that, Fox.  They might think you're 
crazy," suggested Scott.
  "And that's the last thing you want, especially with the amount of 
explaining you and your colleagues are going to have to do.  Starting 
with what the US military, illegally operating in Canada may I add, wants 
with the witness to a homicide case.  And if I were you, I'd leave out 
the bit about the man from outer space.  That won't go over too well with 
Captain Cohen," Knight said as he herded Fox back down the steps.
 
  Sam crept cautiously forward, his eyes darting back and forth to make 
sure no one else happened to show up.  Al, with the help of Ziggy, alerted 
him to the few motion sensors laid out in this area.  He safely reached 
the side of the house near one of the larger windows.  Now, he just had 
to wait.
  "Al, can you check and see if the pizza's arrived yet?  Then let Paul 
know that everyone's in place."
  "Right.  See ya on the inside!" with that, Al pressed a button on his 
handlink.  Abruptly, the scene changed.  He was just inside the main 
door.  Scully and Mulder were there, along with one of the men from the 
moniter room.  Mulder was removing the man's gun.
  "Okay, hands on your head and turn around.  You and your associates are 
under arrest for kidnapping and possible conspiracy charges.  My partner 
and I have been empowered by the city of Toronto and the Canadian 
government to make arrests as part of our investigation into a series of 
mysterious homicides.  You are a suspect in the kidnapping of the primary 
witness to this case.  Have I made myself clear," Mulder snapped.
  "Yessir...but you'll never get away with this..." the man began.
  "You let us worry about that.  Now, I want you to proceed slowly 
forward to that room just ahead of us."
  The trio moved deliberately toward the control room.  Mulder had his 
gun at the man's back, while Scully flanked Mulder, her gun held at 
ready.  Al followed, unseen.  As the entered the room, both Mulder and 
Scully snapped into action.
  "Federal agents! Everyone freeze!  Hands where we can see them!  You 
there, move away from the moniters!" Scully shouted, as she and Mulder 
flanked the room.  Everyone had been so engrossed in watching Paul on the 
moniters they'd been caught flat-footed. No one had time to raise and 
alarm.  Even the guards were surprised.  Al wasn't sure how long this 
would last, though, with only the two federal agents there to cover 
several armed men.  He quickly pressed another button on his handlink and 
found himself next to Paul.
  "Paul, everyone's in place!  Cut the power!"
  Paul nodded.  He focused on the sphere in his hand, which began to glow 
even more brightly.  A beam of bright blue light sprung from the sphere 
to the nearest power lines, then seemed to travel down the lines toward 
the house.  There was a flash, then all the lights in the house went out.
  "Isn't this a kick in the butt!" Al yelped excitedly.  Paul gave him a 
quizzical look, then smiled.
  "Yes it is.  Thank you for all your help."
  "Well, it's all in a day's leap.  I guess you should get to the house 
and make sure Scott's all right."
  "I'll know as soon as Nick has given him his sphere. I can sense it 
through my sphere.  I think, however, that I should remain outside for 
now.  At least until I know everything is okay.  That way I'll be able to 
help out in case anything goes wrong.  How close are the rest of the police?"
  Al consulted Ziggy.  "Ah, they're almost here."
  "I think I should go warn Connor that he better leave.  I don't think 
the police would understand if they found him here."
  "You're right.  I'll go check on things inside."  With that, Al 
disappeared.  Paul glanced around, then headed in the direction in which he 
thought Connor might be. As he made his way through the woods, he gripped 
his sphere, waiting for some indication that Scott had been rescued.  His 
words to Al aside, he _wanted_ to be inside, to see with his own eyes 
that things were okay.  And to make sure Scott was unharmed.  But he knew 
it was better for him to stay out of the way until the police arrived.  
Suddenly, he felt something from the sphere.  A pulse of reassurance. 
Scott was okay and he had his sphere. He sent a non-verbal message 
of love and relief for his safety back to his son.  Now, he just had to 
find Connor. 

  Connor was impressed. He hadn't thought Hanson had kept up with his 
skills, but apparantly he'd been wrong.  Not that he was worried--he was 
still pretty sure he he could take Hanson's head.  It would just take 
more time than he thought.  As he parried another one of Hanson's attack, 
he distantly wondered how things were going on inside.  He didn't have 
alot of time to reflect on the subject, though, as this battle demanded 
his almost total attention.  As he and Hanson circled each other, he 
caught a glimpse of the house. Just in time to see all the power go out.
Hanson noticed it too.
  "What are you up to, MacLeod?"
  "What am _I_ up to?  I might ask you the same question.  But I doubt 
you'd give me the satisfaction of an answer.  And I won't oblige you, 
either."
  The two continued their fight.  It was beginning to look like Connor 
had the upper hand.  It wouldn't be too long now.  
  "Stop!" a voice called from the edge of the woods.  Connor recognized 
it as Paul's voice.  Neither he nor Hanson took any heed.  Suddenly, 
Connor noticed the pommel of Hanson's sword beginning to glow.  With a 
hiss of pain, Hanson dropped it.  
  "Connor!  Put down your sword, please!"
  "Paul, what are you doing?" Connor asked as he glanced over to where 
Paul was emerging from the woods.  There was a glowing blue light in 
Paul's left hand--the same light that Connor had seen heal Fox Mulder.  
He held his own sword at ready.  Much as he disliked Hanson, he couldn't 
take advantage of an unarmed man.  And he wasn't sure how long it would 
be before his katana became red-hot.  
  "I think there's been enough killing, enough violence, for one day.  I 
don't want anyone to get hurt on my account or on Scott's."
  Connor sighed as he lowered the katana.  Hanson stood at bay, glancing 
distrustfully at both Paul and Connor.  Connor quickly stepped over and 
kicked the crusader's sword out of Hanson's reach, just in case.  "Paul, 
I thought we had explained it to you--we don't necessarily like it, but 
there can be only one!  If I don't get rid of Hanson today, he'll just 
come after me or Duncan or someone else later.  Besides, he kidnapped 
your son!  Doesn't that make you angry?"
  "Yes, it makes me angry.  But I don't want to kill him.  Maybe if we 
explain things to him..."
  "It doesn't make any difference!  I've known this man for over a 
century.  I know what he's capable of.  If he wants you dead, he's not 
going to stop just because you claim to be a nice guy!"
  Paul considered it for a second, then shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but 
I can't let you kill him.  Besides, the police are almost here.  How 
would you explain to them that you're not only still alive but that 
you've killed another person?"
  Connor blinked. "What?  Why didn't you say so in the first place.  Yes, 
you're right.  Much as I'd like to, I can't afford to finish this now."  
He turned to Hanson. "Some other time, some other place.  We _will_ 
finish this."  Hanson only glared.  Connor tucked his katana back into 
the folds of his battered coat.  Then he stepped over to where Hanson's 
sword lay.  On an impulse, he picked it up as well.
  "Why are you taking his weapon?" asked Paul.
  "Safety precaution.  I don't want him coming after me too quickly.  
Besides, I can hope someone else will take care of him before he manages 
to rearm himself. Look, I know it sounds bloodthirsty to you, but that's 
how the Game is.  We didn't ask for it to be this way."
  "Why don't you play a different Game?" Paul asked.
  Connor sighed and shook his head.  "Oh, I wish it were that simple.  
Guess I better be going.  See you later, alien."
  "Catch you later, Immortal," Paul replied with a smile.  Connor  
smiled back.  Taking one last look at the silent and fuming Hanson, he 
headed off into the woods.

=====================================================================
======

From: martin@PROBLEM_WITH_INEWS_GATEWAY_FILE (Michele Martin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: XOVER: The Witness pt 23/26
Date: 3 May 1995 17:14:15 GMT

scene 29 (keeps going and going and going....)

   Sam crouched next to the window, keeping his eyes on the windows above 
where he could see light coming through.  Any second now...there!  The 
light suddenly cut out.  He counted to ten under his breath, then used 
the rifle Nick had "liberated" from the guard to crash in the window.  No 
alarm sounded, but he was sure that the sound wouldn't have gone 
unnoticed.  He carefully but quickly climbed through, glad his eyes were 
adjusted to the dark from being outside.  He hoped that would allow him  
some advantage.  He reached into his coat pocket for his badge as he 
crept along the wall in the direction of the moniter room.  Suddenly he 
heard a voice up ahead.
  "Michaelson?  Peters? Williams?  Someone answer?  What's going on?" 
someone was speaking into a radio, probably trying to contact either the 
outside guards or the men in the moniter room.  Sam peeked around the 
corner.  He could make out two men, both armed with rifles.  Probably two 
of the interior guards.   Well, best take what advantage he had...
  "Freeze!  Metro Homicide!  Drop your weapons!" Sam shouted.  The two 
men whirled and raised their rifles, but hesitated when they saw that Sam 
had them covered and that he did, indeed have a badge.
  "I know what you're thinking--there're two of you and one of me.  But 
I've already called for reinforcements, and my partner is already inside 
as well." *I hope* "Killing a police officer on top of kidnapping of a 
material witness to a homicide investigation really would not look good." 
Sam knew he was partially bluffing.  If these people were really part of 
a powerful secret US government group, killing him wouldn't faze them in 
the slightest.  The guards kept their weapons pointed out him, apparantly 
uncertain of their next move.  Sam couldn't see their faces, so he was 
unsure of what they were thinking.
  "Uh oh, Sam.  Looks like you're caught in a stalemate...and there two 
more guards coming up behind you..no, don't turn around or they might 
fire. Listen, I'll go tell Scott to tell Nick to give you a hand down 
here.  Just don't do anything sudden.  I have the feeling these nozzles 
wouldn't hesitate to take you out," Al's voice sounded behind him.  Even 
with the unpleasant news Al had to tell him, Sam was reassured by his 
presence.  Then he heard punchec something into the handlink, and he knew 
Al was gone.  *Okay, I'm on my own for the next few minutes.  Al, you 
better hurry*  At that moment, he heard the click of a rifle being cocked 
behind him.
  "This is your only warning, sir.  Lower your weapon and place your 
hands on your head," said a voice behind him.  Sam carefully did as he 
was ordered.
   "Now, you better tell us exactly what's going on and the location of 
your partner and anyone else on the premises," continued the voice behind 
him as one of the guards in front of him reached for his rifle.
   "Uh, well...." Sam began.
   "Sam!  Get down!" Al's voice yelled.  Sam dove for the floor as the 
guards in front of him opened fire on something behind him. As he rolled 
over, Sam caught the glimpse of blurred motion as something knocked over 
the guards who had been behind him.  The blur resolved itself into the 
form of Nick, who casually tossed the "rear" guards aside as the other 
pair continued to fire.  All to no avail.  Nick growled, then jumped the 
other pair.  It was all over in a second.
  "You okay, Sam?" Nick asked as he helped Sam to his feet.
  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Wow, that was incredible!  Are _you_ okay?"
  "Well, I'll have to have Nat pull a few pieces of lead out, but other 
than that, I'm fine."
  "How's Scott?"
  "Oh, he's fine.  I left him with Fox, who's handcuffed.  And he's got 
that sphere of his out and, well, armed I guess you could say.  I think 
he'll be okay.  Shall we see how the pizza delivery is going?"
  Sam smiled as he and Nick picked their way past the unconscious guards 
toward the moniter room.

  Mulder and Scully, by virtue of the element of surprise, managed to 
keep things under control even though they were technically outnumbered 
five to two.  The sudden power outage worked to their advantage since 
they'd been prepared for it.  One of the guards had attempted to go for 
his rifle, but Scully had blinded him with a suddenly materialized 
super-flashlight.  Immortals weren't the only ones who could hide large 
things in secret pockets of their trenchcoats.  They'd managed to herd 
everyone over to one side of the room when they heard the unexpected 
gunfire just outside the door.  Mulder and Scully exchanged worried 
glances, hoping that neither Sam, Duncan, or Scott had been the target.  
They knew better than to worry about Nick.  
  "Look, you know they'll never let you get away with this. We have 
connections in high places in the government," one of the guards said 
ominously.
  "Correction--you have friends in high places in the US government.  I 
think you may have a bit more difficulty with the Canadian government.  
We've already alerted both the Toronto police and the Royal Canadian 
Mounties of your presence here, and reinforcements should be arriving 
shortly. I really hope you don't cause some sort of international 
incident," replied Mulder.
  Before the guard could reply, the far door open.  Scully whirled to 
cover the entrance, then sighed in relief when she saw it was Nick and Sam.
  "Well, looks like you've got things under control here," remarked Nick.
  "What was that gunfire we just heard?" asked Scully.  "And where's Scott?"
  "Oh, some of the guards got a little carried away. Nick took care of 
them," replied Sam.
  "And I'm okay, Agent Scully.  Ran into a little trouble with two other 
guards on my way down the steps, but, well, I guess you can say they saw 
the light," said Scott as he entered the room with George Fox in tow.  
Fox looked extremely agitated and dismayed.
  "Well, by my count that takes care of everyone.  Now all we have to do 
is wait for the mop-up crew to arrive.  Though I don't relish trying to 
explain all this to Captain Cohen," commented Nick.
  "Why should you have to--you've put in a full day, er, night, and I think 
these people are perfectly capable of speaking for themselves.  I'm sure Mr. 
George Fox here has plenty to say," said Mulder.
   Fox just glowered at him in response.

scene 30
Outside
4:30 am  
   
  Paul watched Connor disappear into the woods, then turned back to the 
other Immortal called Hanson by the MacLeods and 'Cancerman' by Agent 
Mulder.  Hanson regarded him dispassionately for a few seconds before 
commenting:
  "You should not have interfered.  If MacLeod had killed me it would 
have made things alot easier for you.  Don't think I won't continue to 
hunt you down and eliminate the threat you represent to us."
  "But I'm not a threat.  I don't want to hurt anyone.  I first came to 
observe, and then to take care of my son.  After all these years, why is 
that so hard for you and George Fox to accept?  I never was a threat to 
your national security," Paul replied sadly.
  "National security may be George Fox's biggest concern, but it's one of 
the least of mine.  There are much more important things at stake.  I'm a 
player in more Games than the one you interfered with tonight--but that 
one in and of itself would be enough reason for me to wish to eliminate 
your kind.  Tell me, how much have you told Agent Mulder?"
  "Agent Mulder?" Paul replied tentatively.  He realized that it would 
not be a good idea to let this man know the extent to which Mulder was 
involved in the evening's events.  He sensed that this man was much more 
dangerous than George Fox, and not because he was Immortal.  
  "Yes, I'm sure he'd like to know _all_ about you and why you're here.  
He was assigned to investigate the case for which your offspring is a 
witness.  Perhaps he doesn't know about you?"
  "Why would I tell him?" Paul answered trying to mislead without 
outright lying.  He didn't like to lie, but he'd found that in dealing 
with humans it was sometimes necessary to disguise the truth.  
Especially in dealing with _this_ type of human.  
  "Why indeed.  I have found, however, that Agent Mulder has a disturbing 
knack of finding out things he'd be better off not knowing, though he has 
yet to become a _real_ threat.  Though he has no reason to expect aliens 
in the particular case he was sent here to investigate.  Still, I 
wouldn't underestimate Fox Mulder."
   Paul wondered if that last sentence was supposed to be addressed to 
him, or if Hanson was thinking out loud.  But he doubted that this was 
the kind of man who said anything that wasn't necessary.
  "So what will you do with me?" Hanson ask, casually pulling out a 
cigarette.  He lit it with a lighter taken from his suit jacket pocket, 
and began to smoke, all the while seeming utterly unconcerned about his 
fate. 
  "I could take you back to the house and wait for the rest of the police 
to arrive.  I think you and your men will have alot of explaining to do," 
replied Paul, although he doubted that this man would find the police to 
be much of an inconvenience.  The almost sneering smile that floated 
briefly across Hanson's face confirmed his suspicions.
  "Do you really think the police pose much of a threat to me?" Hanson 
asked.
  "No.  I think that you are a very dangerous person, Immortal. And The 
police have had enough problems with your kind for now.  So I will let you go.  
But I warn  you--I can be a dangerous person, too.  Do not attempt to harm 
me or my son again.  I don't want to hurt you or anyone on this planet, 
but I will do what I must to protect my family.  Even my patience has its 
limits," Paul intoned seriously.  He meant every word he said, and he 
could see that Hanson knew it by the brief look of concern that crossed 
his face.   Concentrating on the sphere in his hand, he caused it to glow 
brighter and brighter, almost to its maximum.  The sudden intense light 
blinded Hanson, long enough for Paul to disappear into the woods and 
begin to make his way back to the front of the house.  Back to his son, 
his wife, and his new-found friends.  
  
  LaCroix perched unseen in one of the many treetops near the scene of 
the evening's activity...or in his case, entertainment.  So much was 
going on.  He wasn't sure exactly when and where he should intervene.  He 
was curious about many of the people with whom Nicholas was associating 
this evening.  And he wished to learn more of the things he'd heard 
discussed at the station earlier that evening.  At several points he was 
tempted to interrupt Nicholas himself and demand some explanations.  But he 
had the feeling that his wayward son would be less than cooperative, as he 
often was when involved in one of his oh-so-important cases.  So instead 
he watched.
  His attention had finally been drawn to the sword fight near the rear of 
the house.  He was sure this was somehow connected to the beheadings that 
had plagued the mortals of late and which had caused some minor concern 
to some in the community.  The beheadings that the late Gregory had 
seemed to know something about.  He knew that Gregory had not told him 
the truth about his interest in this matter.  Perhaps now he had the 
opportunity to find out more.  He watched the battle with interest--these 
mortals were both _very_ skilled fighters.  Almost too skilled for 
those with such brief lifespans.  There had been some mention of 
'Immortals' earier--perhaps these were some of those?  There was definitely 
something more to this than appeared on the surface.  He wondered what 
the final outcome would be. 
  Unfortunately he was prevented from finding out by the arrival of a 
third party.  LaCroix almost instantly realized that this was the one 
who had overpowered Gregory. The alien--he recognized him from the 
photographs he'd seen in the file he'd acquired.  The blue light that 
came from his hand radiated a power that LaCroix found both repellant, 
yet oddly attracting.  And very strong.  Yes indeed, it _was_ a force to be 
reckoned with.  And perhaps dealt with at some later time.  Even if 
this being did only wish to be left alone.  LaCroix was not entirely 
comfortable with the idea that there was something present on Earth 
that he might not be able to deal with.  Then again, the challenge 
this being represented might be refreshing.  He would have to think 
about that.  He was sure when he wanted to find this alien again he 
could get the information from Nicholas.  Willingly or unwillingly.
  He continued to watch and listen.  Apparantly the alien knew one of the 
combatants, whom he referred to as "Connor".  The other was knows as 
"Hanson".  Ah, this was interesting--Connor claimed to have known Hanson 
for over a century.  How could this be?  These were obviously not 
vampires.  He would have known instantly.  He listened even more 
closely.  Finally, the one called Connor prepared to leave.  As he did 
so, the alien addressed him as "Immortal".  So his suspicion had been 
correct.  These were not ordinary mortals.  He decided to find out more 
about these others.
  He launched himself from his perch and followed Connor as he made his 
way away from the house.  Alone.  Perfect.  He waited until they were a 
suitable distance away from the others before he made his move.  As 
Connor cleared the woods near a deserted street, LaCroix landed abruptly 
in front of him.  Connor slammed to a halt, eyes widening.  LaCroix 
smiled slowly before addressing the stunned man.
  "Greetings fellow immortal.  I believe we have much to discuss."
  
=====================================================================
======

From: martin@PROBLEM_WITH_INEWS_GATEWAY_FILE (Michele Martin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: XOVER: The Witness 24/26
Date: 9 May 1995 21:29:13 GMT


scene 30
(cont)

   As Connor made his way through the woods, he wondered what to do about 
Hanson.  He hadn't been particularly thrilled with the interruption by 
Paul, but he understood the alien's motives.  Well, besides wanting to 
get Connor out of the area before the police arrived.  After all, the 
evening had been complicated enough without them having to explain things 
if the cops found him alive and standing over the body of yet another headless 
person.  He seriously doubted they'd take his word that Hanson was a 
really a nasty person who deserved to die, even if Agent Mulder backed 
him up on it.  But besides that, it was obvious that Paul wasn't happy 
about the amount of violence he'd been exposed to that evening.  Well, 
hopefully Paul would be able to handle Hanson.  He'd have to ask him 
about it when they all met back at Nick's place.
  Speaking of which, he wondered where Duncan was.  He doubted his 
clansman would hang around waiting for the cops to show up and he fully 
expected to meet him outside somewhere.  He also wondered if he'd have to 
walk all the way to Nick's.  That would be a pain, but not as awkward as 
trying to hitch a ride while carrying Hanson's sword.  His own katana was 
tucked safely in his trenchcoat, but there just wasn't enough room for 
the bigger Crusader's sword in there.  He thought about ditching it.  
But the antique dealer in him argued that it was too nice a piece to just 
be left to rot here in the woods...or to be found by someone who wouldn't 
know the proper care and usage of such an item.  Still, it was rather 
unyieldy to carry.  At the moment he was cradling it across both his 
arms, trying not to cut himself with the sharp blade.  He glanced down at 
the hilt.  Cross-shaped, with some nice etchings and a few small gems.  
The weight of the blade was partially counter-balanced with a crystal 
globe that appeared to contain something in the center.  Probably some 
sort of holy relic.  It was hard to see in the dark woods, but Connor had 
the impression that it was a splinter of some sort.  Probably one of the 
millions of so-called pieces of the true Cross of Christ.  He was 
surprised that someone would've been so gullible not only to have 
purchased one of those shams but to actually have gone to the trouble of 
working it into the hilt of a sword.  Probably a very pious nobleman 
wanting some extra divine help on his first Crusade.  Hmm--maybe he could 
tap into a little of that help himself.  He decided to keep the sword 
with him, for now.
   He cleared the woods and saw an empty street in front of him.  He 
made towards it but didn't get very far.  Suddenly something swooped 
down to land right in front of him.  He came to an abrupt halt as he 
made out the figure of what looked like a man.  His eyes widened in 
shock.  *What the...wait, it's got to be another vampire!  Nick implied 
that there were others of his kind around here.  Great!  Just what I 
need...unless it's some other type of weird...no, I refuse to think 
about _that_ possibility.*  As these thoughts ran through Connor's 
mind, the vampire spoke:
  "Greetings fellow immortal.  I believe we have much to discuss."  A 
sly grin spread across his pale face as he advanced toward Connor.
  "Who are you?  What do you want?" Connor asked, trying to buy some 
time.  Getting his blood sucked out was not on his list of things he 
really wanted to do this evening.  Then again, being arrested by the 
police, interrogated by the FBI, stabbed by Immortal saboteurs, 
confronted with extraterrestrials, etc, etc, hadn't been high on his 
wish list either. It was just one of those evenings.
  "Who I am is unimportant...but I believe you know _what_ I am.  Now 
I'd like to know a little bit more about you.  In over 1900 years I 
have never heard about your kind of immortal.  You hide yourselves 
well.  However, I understand it's been a night for exchanging of 
secrets..."
  "Well, that's all very interesting, but I'm really not in a sharing 
sort of mood," Connor began, wondering how to get out of this 
situation. Running would be useless--vampires could fly and move 
extremely fast.  He wouldn't get very far.  Frantically he tried 
recalling everything he'd ever heard about vampires in search of a 
means to escape.  Vampires could be repelled by garlic and...crosses.  
Crosses!  Maybe a cross-shaped sword would do in a pinch.  "It's been 
nice talking with you, but I'm really in kind of a hurry.  Perhaps 
some other time."
  "Oh, I don't think you're going anywhere just yet," the vampire 
replied.  Connor could see his eyes beginning to glow with an eerie 
yellow light.  His fangs reflected the light of the moon as he advanced 
closer.  Connor tensed, then abruptly whisked the sword from it's 
horizontal position across his arms to a vertical, face down position.  
He gripped it at a point several inches below where the blade joined 
the hilt and shoved the cross thus formed into the vampire's face.  
Both of them were surprised by the reaction.

  LaCroix had noticed the sword immediately but hadn't really been 
worried by it.  True, crosses did burn him, but they bothered him alot less 
than they did the younger vampires.  He was old, and very powerful.  
And perhaps that fact that he didn't really believe the assertions of 
Christianity played a part of that.  Oh, he understood _why_ the cross 
was such a powerful anti-vampiric symbol.  According to Christians, it 
represented the willingness of the Son of God to sacrifice His own life 
and power in order that humans who believed could have eternal life.  
An almost direct contrast to the vampire--one who sacrificed the lives 
of others to further his or her own power and eternal life.  Thus, the 
cross was anathema.  LaCroix had never been exactly sure why it 
repelled even vampires who had no connections to Christianity.  Perhaps 
because so many people believed and the belief of the wielder had power.  
Or, perhaps, though he didn't like to comtemplate it, because the 
story was true.  
  At any rate, when he really wanted something LaCroix was quite capable 
of ignoring the pain caused him by most crosses.  And he really wanted to 
know about this Immortal.  Perhaps even attempt to bring him across. So 
he wasn't really worried when Connor made ready to his attempt to ward 
LaCroix off with his sword.  It would be most gratifying to see the 
Immortal's reaction when his plan failed.  Failure might even make him 
more cooperative.  A smug grin began forming on his lips as Connor shoved 
the make-shift cross into his face.  But it didn't get very far.  
  As the hilt made contact with his skin there was what appeared to be an 
explosion of light. And pain--sudden burning pain that shot through his 
body.  He staggered back, blinded and stunned.  What had happened?  How could 
this be?  He felt terribly weak, and he dropped to his knees.  His vision 
cleared and he tried to focus on the Immortal.  He was well aware that 
this man knew how to use a sword and was rather well practiced in the 
taking of heads from opponents.  And LaCroix was not entirely sure he 
could survive decapitation.  But Connor seemed almost as stunned as he 
was.  He was staring at the crystal globe on the sword's hilt. From it, a 
faint light eminated--similar to the light that had blinded LaCroix.  It 
came from the small splinter of wood embedded in the globe.  
  "What do you know?" LaCroix heard Connor mutter to himself. "This 
relic _isn't_ a fake after all.  I think that's one I owe you, Lord."  
With that, Connor appeared to shake off his own shock.  He took one more 
glance at LaCroix before he headed off.
  LaCroix waited for his strength to return, wondering what Connor had 
meant.  What relic?  Was there something in the crystal he hadn't seen?  
And how could it have affected _him_?  Growling in frustration he rose to 
his feet.  Already he was beginning to feel better.  But he needed to 
feed.  He first impulse was to chase down the Immortal who had caused his 
discomfiture, but he knew that was folly.  Not as long as Connor had that 
sword.  But there was another Immortal nearby.  Perhaps he would serve 
instead.  LaCroix rose into the air and headed back in the direction he 
had come.  Using his hunting vision, he scanned the wooded areas in 
search of his prey.  There--in the same spot where the sword fight had 
taken place.  LaCroix dropped to the ground behind the man who was 
shaking his head as though trying to clear his eyes.  He could feel the 
strength of the life force of this one--much stronger than most mortals.  
He growled softly in anticipation.  The Immortal whirled, still squining 
as though he'd been recently blinded.
  "Who's there?  What do you want?"
  LaCroix didn't bother to answer.  He pounced on the Immortal, as 
anticipation welled within him.  The man fought in vain as LaCroix began 
to feed.  In a matter of seconds he had drained the Immortal dry.   
Remarkable!  The energy surged within him.  Normally it would have 
taken several feedings to regain the amount of strength he had lost.  But 
now he felt almost giddy.  He shot straight into the air, laughing.  At 
least he had learned one thing about these Immortals--they certainly made 
for tasty treats!

  Connor looked behind him to make sure the vampire hadn't followed.  
Hopefully he'd be incapacitated for a while.  Now he _really_ wanted to 
find Duncan.  He didn't like the thought of his clansman running around 
this area with that vampire on the loose. Of course, being drained by a 
vampire wouldn't kill an Immortal or having any other lasting side effect 
(he hpoed), but it would certainly be an unpleasant experience.  Besides, 
he really wanted to talk to Duncan again...alone.  As he made his way 
along the street he kept his eyes and ears open.  Presently he felt the 
presence of another Immortal nearby.
  "Duncan?" he whispered.
  "Right here, Connor," Duncan answered as he stepped out of a nearby 
stand of trees.  "What happened?  I didn't see any signs of a Quickening..."
  "Paul interrupted us to tell me the police were nearby.  But at least I 
got Hanson's sword.  Good thing, too--I found out that it comes in handy 
against vampires," Connor replied nodding to the sword he carried in his 
arms.
  "Vampires?  You ran into another one?"
  Connor nodded and quickly explained what had just happened to him.  
Duncan's eyes widened in surprise when Connor explained how he'd gotten 
away.  When Connor was finished, Duncan replied with an exhausted sigh, 
"I don't know about you, but I'll be glad to get out of this 
city.  Though for right now I'd settle for getting back to my motel.  I'll 
Anne's really got to be wondering where I've gone to this time.  She's already 
suspicious enough about me as it is.  I don't know how I'm going to 
explain where I've been for the entire night."
  "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," Connor said with a grin.  
"You've had alot of practice.  You know, one of these days you're going 
to really have to tell her the truth about us.  Though if I were you 
I'd leave out the bit about this evening. Come on--I don't want to stand 
around here for too long.  It's a long walk back."
  "Walk?  Do you intend to walk all the way to Nick's?"
  "Well, unless you have any better suggestions.  Perhaps you'd like to 
steal a car?  Or hail a taxi with your shirt all covered in blood like 
that and me holding this sword?"
  Duncan grumbled something under his breath as the two started to make 
their way along the road.

scene 31
Driveway, 4242 Milliways Drive
5:00 am

   Mulder, Scully, Nick, Sam (and Al), Scott, Jenny, and Paul stood in a 
group outside the house.  Jenny had come in after the police and RCMP had 
arrived and had been inseperable from Scott's side since, despite his 
protestations that he was unharmed.  Paul had joined them a few minutes 
later.  He'd explained quietly to Mulder and Nick what had happened to 
Hanson.  Mulder hadn't been especially thrilled that Hanson had gotten 
away, but the knowledge that Duncan had promised to get him any and all 
information he could on the man made up for his disappointment that 
"Cancerman" wouldn't be arrested with the rest of his group.  
  They'd managed to make their "escape" from the questions of the RCMP 
and Captain Cohen by claiming exhaustion and promising to answer any and 
all queries after a good night's...or day's...sleep.  The fact that Scott 
seemed to be about to fall asleep on his feet helped.  As did the 
hour--it seemed that no one really _wanted_ to deal with the explanations 
just yet.  Especially with George Fox ranting about aliens, police 
detectives with fangs, and men who rose from the dead and ran around 
carrying swords.  The man in charge of the RCMP contingent had decided 
immediately that Fox was a lunatic and had issued orders to have him 
locked up in a psychiatric institute until such time as he was ready to 
interrogate him.  The other "kidnappers" had totally refused to answer 
any questions with anything beyond a belligerent glare.  They were to be 
locked up in the Metro jail until the RCMP could get around to 
questioning all of them.
   "You know, it's going to be alot of fun explaining all this to Cohen 
and the RCMP tomorrow...or later on today," Mulder remarked.
   "Well Mulder, we can always tell them the truth--that we believe these 
men came here because they believed George Fox's wild assertions that 
Scott was the son of an extraterrestrial," replied Scully.
   "It almost sounds like you believe that's all there is to it.  Which 
reminds me, have you come up with a good rational, scientific explanation 
for everything that's happened tonight?" 
   "Mass hallucination."
   "Mass hallucination?  Is that the best you can do?"
   "It's 5 o'clock in the morning.  Let me get a good night's sleep and 
I'm sure I can come up with a much better one," Scully retorted.  Mulder 
just grinned.
   "Actually, I don't know how much explanation Cohen will want out of 
us.  After all, we solved the original case.  The murderer is dead, 
supposedly, so case closed.  We tell her what Agent Scully said--that 
the people here tonight are not necessarily connected with the 
beheadings.  Since it's not technically a homicide case anymore, we won't 
be involved with it.  Unless the RCMP wants our testimony," Nick said.
  "So now all you have to do is explain it all to Schanke," Sam added.  
Nick looked at him quizzically as he continued, "I think that pretty much 
wraps up what I came to do.  What does Ziggy say, Al?"  He paused for a 
second as if listening to the voice of his unseen companion.  Paul and 
Scott, the only others who could hear Al, registered some surprise at 
whatever Al was saying, but they said nothing.  Mulder wondered why.
"Okay, sounds like everything's taken care of. Hmm, wonder why I haven't 
leaped...well, since I'm still here, for the moment, let me just say that 
it's been, um, interesting.  _Very_ interesting.  I'd say I won't forget 
you but considering what leaping does to the memory, it wouldn't be 
true." Sam suddenly grinned. "But Al says to say that _he_ certainly 
won't forget it, much as he'd like to."
  "Thank you, Sam Beckett, for all your help," said Paul.  "I hope one 
day you do leap home.  And thank you, Al.  We couldn't have done it 
without you."
  "You're welcome...." Sam began.  Suddenly he seemed to freeze, then 
stumble.  Nick reached out to help steady him while looking quizzically 
at Paul.  Paul nodded and mouthed the name "Schanke".  
  "Whoah.  What a rush.  Man, oh, man, I..." Schanke, apparantly returned 
from wherever he'd been while Sam occupied his body, looked around at the 
group of mostly unfamiliar faces.  He looked confused.  "Ah, what's going 
on?"
  "Hmm, I guess that guy hit you on the head harder than I thought, 
Schank.  How are you feeling?" Nick replied trying to cover for Schanke's 
confusion.
  "I don't know...kind of weird.  Okay, this might sound like a strange 
question, but where the heck are we? And who are all these people?"
  "You mean you don't know?  Don't you remember?" asked Nick.
  "Ah, well, actually, no.  The last thing I remember we had just found 
the fifth victim of those serial beheadings...Wait, I recognize _you_," 
pointing at Scott, "you're the witness!"
   Scott nodded, "That's me. These are my parents," he nodded at Jenny 
and Paul.  Jenny looked genuinely confused, but Paul whispered something 
in her ear and she nodded.  Though she still looked confused.
   "And I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully.  We're 
with the FBI," Mulder said.  Schanke looked at his outfit, especially the 
hat, and gave him a rather disbelieving look.  Mulder ignored it--he was 
used to looks like that. "Detective Schanke, I think you may have been the 
victim...." Mulder began. Scully cut him off before he could give Schanke 
one of his famous far out explanations.
   "...of someone hitting you on the head.  We just rescued Scott from 
kidnappers and in the process things got a little hairy," she said, 
shooting Mulder a warning look.  
  Schanke rubbed his head.  "Funny, it doesn't _feel_ like someone hit me 
on the head.  It's just that my memory is a little..."
  "Swiss-cheesed?" Mulder offered.
  "Yeah, that's it!  You know, speaking of cheese I'm _really_ hungry."
  "Schanke, you're _always_ really hungry.  Tell you what--Cohen's given 
us the rest of the night off since we solved the case..."
   "We solved the case?  When?  Jeez, maybe I should see a doctor if I 
can't remember something like _that_."
   "Ah, no, I don't really think that's necessary.  Tell you what, if you 
still feel a little woozy tomorrow we'll have Nat take a look at you.  As 
I was saying, why don't I drive you home.  Get a good night's sleep and 
you'll probably feel alot better."
   "Okay, okay.  You're probably right.  I hate seeing doctors anyway.  
They always want to stick things in you or something."
    "Then it's settled.  Tell you what--Agent Mulder, you take my car and 
I'll take the pizza car..."
    "Pizza car?  Whoa, I gotta remember what happened!" 
    "...and return it to the store.  Hopefully they'll have your rental 
car there.  I'll return it to you when we meet up later," Nick offered.  
He and Mulder exchanged keys.  Mulder also gave Nick the hats he and 
Scully had been wearing.  Nick and Schanke both got into the delivery 
car.  Mulder could hear Schanke saying, "Hey, I wonder if there are any 
more pizzas in here?" 
    After Nick and Schanke had left, the rest of them headed out to where 
Nick's car was parked.  As they walked, Mulder turned to Paul.
   "I noticed you looked kind of surprised at something Al said just 
before Sam leaped out.  Care to share?"
   Paul looked intently at Mulder for a second before replying, "Al 
assured Sam that neither you, Agent Scully, Nick or Schanke will get in 
trouble because of what you did this evening.  Apparantly that might have 
happened if the rescue hadn't worked."
   "That's good to know, but I don't see why that would surprise you."
   "He said something else..."
   "Something else about the future?"
   "Yes...but I'm afraid I can't tell you about it."
   "Oh?  Why not?"
   "I don't think it's a good idea for you to know too much about the 
future, Agent Mulder.  I will tell you that it wasn't anything bad.  If 
something bad was going to happen, I would warn you."
   "So in other words, whatever it is will be a surprise, but a good 
surprise.  I should warn you that I've always hated surprise parties."
   Paul just grinned in response as they got into the car.   
  
=====================================================================
======

From: martin@PROBLEM_WITH_INEWS_GATEWAY_FILE (Michele Martin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: XOVER: The Witness 25/26
Date: 15 May 1995 14:07:45 GMT


scene 32
Nick Knight's apartment
5:20 am

  Natalie was dozing on the couch in Nick's apartment  in front of the 
tv.  There was a documentary on carnivorous plants playing, which somehow 
worked it's way into Nat's subconscious along with everything else that 
had happened that day.  It made for a very odd dream involving 
holographic Venus fly-traps (that actually _were_ from Venus), glowing blue 
swords, headless vampires, time-traveling FBI agents, and Scottish quantum 
physicists.  Which just goes to show what sorts of weird things go on in 
dreams.  She tossed and turned restlessly, mentally trying to fend off the 
advances of the evil Darth LaCroix, when she was (mercifully) awakened by 
the ringing of the phone.  It rang only twice before Nick's machine 
picked it up.  She rubbed her eyes as Nick's terse message played out, 
followed by the beep.  The voice on the other end was one she recognized 
immediately.
  "Ah, Nicholas!  I see you are still galavanting about with your new 
little friends.  Too bad--I had hoped for the chance to chat with you 
about all the interesting new things I've learned today.  Too bad I 
didn't get that chance with poor Gregory..but you probably guessed what 
happened with Gregory.  I should warn you, Nicholas, that the Enforcers 
will not be happy if they find out that you are associated with the, 
shall we say, _being_ who incapacitated our mutual friend.  Ah, but who 
cares about them, hmm?  Actually, I wanted to talk with you about certain 
_other_ acquaintances of yours...I'm sure you know who I mean.  Until 
later...." LaCroix hung up.  Nat was puzzled not so much by the content 
of the message, but by the tone in which it was delivered.  If she didn't 
know any better, she'd say LaCroix was, well, drunk.  Or stoned.  
Possibly both.  She wondered what could have happened to him.  She almost 
hoped it was permanent.
  Looking down at watch she wondered how the rescue operation was going.  
>From his message, she inferred that LaCroix knew at least part of what 
was going on.  Which wasn't good.  Hopefully he wouldn't interfere.  She 
swung herself off the couch and headed over toward the kitchen area of 
the apartment.  Bags of chips sat along the counter.  The refrigerator, 
normally devoid of anything except wine bottles of cow's blood, was now 
stocked with sodas, dip, and fresh vegetables.  She'd even gotten some 
frozen pizzas.  There really wasn't much of anything to do except wait.  
And hope.
  She wandered out of the kitchen area and drifted around the apartment.  
She idly ran her hands along the motorcycle in the corner wondering, as 
she often did, where Nick had gotten it and when he ever _rode_ it.  He 
certainly kept it in good enough condition, but he almost never seemed to 
_do_ anything with it. She wondered back to the sofa and picked up the tv 
remote.  The documentary on carnivorous plants had changed into a show 
about Komodo dragons.  She watched for a few minutes until it was obvious 
that the Komodo dragons weren't actually going to do anything 
interesting, then she began channel flipping.  At that moment, the 
doorbell buzzed.
  *Finally!  I hope that's them.* She hit the call button near the door 
of the large elevator that served as the entrance to Nick's loft. "Hello?"
  "Federal agents and company," replied the rather distinctive voice of 
Agent Mulder.  Nat sighed with relief, though she wondered where Nick 
was.  
  "Come on up," she replied as she sent the elevator back down to get 
them.  In a few moments it returned with Mulder, Scully, Scott, Paul, 
and Jenny.  Mulder opened the elevator grating and announced, "Second 
floor. Vampires, ghouls, goblins, coroners, and all manner of creepy 
things."
  Paul looked inquisitively at Mulder and said, "Define 'ghouls'."  Scott 
just shook his head, then turned to Scully.
  "Is he," indicating Mulder, "always like this?"
  "You've no idea," replied Scully, rolling her eyes.  Mulder just 
grinned impishly.
  "Are you okay, Scott?" Natalie asked.
  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just tired, more than anything else.  And hungry."
  "Well, I've got some frozen pizzas, vegetables, chips, dip and sodas.  
Where's Nick, Sam, and the MacLeods?"
  Mulder replied, "Sam apparantly leaped out, leaving a very confused 
Detective Schanke in our midst.  Fortunately not until after we finished 
being weird.  Nick was planning to drive Schanke home, then pick up our 
rental car from the local pizza delivery place...don't ask...before 
coming back here.  I don't know exactly where the MacLeods have gotten 
to.  I'd kind of like to speak to them myself."
  "I think I heard Nick say something about trying to find them and pick 
them up himself so that don't have to walk all the way back.  I get the 
impression he wants a chance to talk to them as well," Scully finished.  
Meanwhile, Paul was preparing the pizzas.  Jenny and Scott had tried to 
help him, but he'd shooed them over to the couch.  Natalie got out the 
dip and the vegetables and offered some to Mulder and Scully, then to 
Jenny and Scott.  Everyone except Mulder accepted the offer of food.  
Mulder was too busy investigating the apartment.
  "So this is how the other half lives," he said as he glanced at some of 
Nick's collection of artwork and antiques...at least, the things that 
Nick actually left out.  Nat hoped she wouldn't have to physically 
restrain him from digging through the drawers and cabinets.
  "Well, what exactly were you expecting, Mulder?" Scully asked as she 
munched on some carrot sticks. "Black and red art deco?  Gargoyles on the 
ceiling?"  That earned her another smirk.  Mulder wondered over to the 
refrigerator, ostensibly to get a soda.  As he peered in side, he noticed 
the green bottles Nat had shoved to the back of the frig.  He pulled one 
out and examined the contents through the tinted glass.  Before Natalie 
could say anything, he asked, "Human?"
  "Ah, no.  It's cow, actually," she replied.
  "Yummy," he replied.  
  "I've been trying to get him to quit.  You see, I have a theory that 
the blood is part of what keeps him from coming back across?"
   "Back across?"
   "I don't think Nick likes being a vampire..and I don't think he'd 
really like you going through his things, Agent Mulder," Paul scolded as 
he tended the oven.  Nick carefully put the bottle back in the 
refrigerator.
   "You'll have to excuse him, Paul.  He really can't help himself.  
Mulder is an irrepressible butinsky," Scully remarked.
   "Butinsky?" Paul replied, confused.
   "It means I like to know what's going on, even if everyone else thinks 
it's none of my business.  It's probably why I joined the FBI," Mulder 
explained.
   "And I thought it was just because you liked wearing dark suits, 
trenchcoats, sunglasses and unimaginative neckties," Scully said.
   "You know, I've had...encounters...with alot of government people and 
I have to admit that you two are totally unlike any of them," Jenny 
observed.  "Then again, nothing that's happened tonight is like anything 
I've ever encountered before...I thought my life was strange being 
married to an alien.  But all this about vampires, Immortals, 
time-travel...I keep expecting to wake up at any minute and find out it's 
all been a dream."
   "A good dream or a bad dream?" Paul asked.
   "I haven't decided yet.  Paul, what are we going to do now?"  Jenny 
sounded concerned and frightened.  Nat understood why--they obviously 
couldn't stay in Toronto, not if there were people still out to get 
them.  Like the vampires...and the Immortals...they'd have to move on now 
that their life here was over.  It was a serious concern, acknowledgement 
of which crossed Paul's face.  However, his concern changed to a 
distinctly Mulderish grin as the timer on the oven went off.
   "Now..I think we're going to eat the pizza," he said with a smile.
  
scene 33
Streets of Toronto    
5:45 am

  Nick had dropped Schanke off after answering the myriad of questions 
surrounding the case and it's apparant resolution.  He'd finally resorted 
to using his vampiric abilities to hypnotize his partner and place a 
highly edited version of the events of that night into his memory.  That 
way if Captain Cohen asked him any questions before Nick got to work he'd 
have some sort of answer to give.  And their stories would match.  He 
wondered if it just wouldn't be easier to tell Schanke the whole truth.  
It would certainly cut down on some of the hassle...at the very least, he 
wouldn't have to deal with Schanke's constant attempts to get him to come 
to dinner some night.
  He'd also managed to recover Mulder and Scully's rental car from the 
pizza place.  There'd been alot of questions and complaints, but he'd 
managed to quell them with the ever-popular 'police business...I'm sorry 
the details are confidential' excuse.  Well, it wasn't terribly popular 
with the average citizens, but police certainly liked it.  At any rate, 
he was now driving the rental car back toward the house that had recently 
been the scene of a rather interesting night's work.  Mostly for the 
purpose of finding the MacLeods.  Paul had informed them that he'd 
interrupted Connor and Hanson in their sword fight (just as well--he 
didn't want another headless body to explain just when they were assuring 
Cohen that the case was solved) and that Connor had headed off into the 
woods.  He himself had seen Duncan sneak off just after Scott had been 
rescued, much to the chagrin of George Fox who he'd last heard  insisting 
to one of his captors that there had been a dead man with a sword 
menacing him earlier.  He suspected that they'd met up with one another 
by one of the streets behind the house, as planned.  They were supposed 
to head back towards the city and wait for someone to swing by and pick 
them up.  Nick wasn't sure if they'd actually do that or try to head back 
to whatever hotels or houses they were staying in while in town.  He 
hoped not--he _really_ wanted to talk to them alone.
  As he turned on one of the side streets in this lonely part of town, he 
listened intently for their voices.  There.  He turned down a few more 
streets, following the sound of slightly accented voices.  In a few 
moments, his headlights caught the glint of a sword, then the shape of 
Connor and Duncan MacLeod.  He pulled up alongside.
  "Need a lift?" he asked as the two turned towards him.  Relief followed 
recognition in their faces.
  "It's about time you showed up!  We weren't terribly thrilled with the 
idea of walking all the way back to the city," Duncan remarked as he got 
into the passenger's seat.  Connor slipped into the back seat, carefully 
laying the sword he was carrying down beside him.
  "I take it that's Hanson's sword?" Nick asked, as he turned the car around.
  "Yes.  Since I couldn't kill him, I thought I'd just leave him 
defenseless.  Good thing, too. I ran into one of your friends," Connor 
replied.  He relayed the story of his encounter to Nick as they drove 
back toward the apartment.
  "LaCroix.  I should have known he'd try something like that," Nick said 
as Connor finished.
  "So you do know him?" Duncan asked.
  "He's the one who made me what I am.  We're not one the best of terms.  
You were extremely lucky..but I have a suspicion that Hanson might not 
have been.  When LaCroix is thwarted, he becomes _very_ nasty.  
Fortunately, or unfortunately, he isn't thwarted very often...." Nick's 
voice trailed off as he began to feel a flashback coming on.  Suddenly he 
snapped out of it, realizing that it was the first one he'd had since he 
and Duncan had recognized each other back at the station.  Several hours 
ago.  Very unusual.  He remembered the faraway look Duncan had also had 
on his face at the time.  
  "Um, this is kind of a strange questions, but do Immortals ever 
experience, well, really vivid memories of things that happened in the 
past?  Sometimes centuries in the past?"
  "You mean flashbacks?" replied Duncan.  "Yes, as a matter of fact, when 
we first ran into each other at the station I remembered that incident in 
the Civil War _very_ clearly.  That's how I knew something was up with you."
  "Right--I remembered the same thing.  Usually I get them during almost 
every case.  You live so long, it seems like everything that happens now 
has happened before in one way or another.  But tonight...I haven't had 
any since the one with you in it."
  "You know...I haven't had any either?  Kind of odd..."
  "Not really," Connor remarked from the back seat.  "Think about it.  In 
all the centuries you've been alive, has you ever experienced anything 
that is remotely as bizarre as what happened tonight?  I know I haven't."
   Nick thought about it.  He looked at Duncan.  They both nodded.  
Connor was absolutely right.

scene 34
Nick's apartment
6:00 am

  Paul was slowly working his way through his third piece of pizza.  The 
evening's events had been very draining, but he wasn't ready to sleep 
just yet.  There were still a few things to wrap up--most importantly, 
what he and his family would do.  He knew they would have to leave.  
Soon.  That might present problems for the detectives if they needed 
Scott's testimony about the kidnapping or even the murder he'd witnessed, 
but it couldn't be helped.  Now that the government men...the _evil_ 
government men, as opposed to good government people like Mulder and 
Scully...knew where they were, it wasn't safe.  Too bad, really.  Toronto 
was just getting really interesting.  He'd like to learn more about 
Immortals and vampires and how they were different from the other people 
he'd met in his time on Earth.  But his family came first.
  Right now the rest of his family was asleep.  Scott had gotten through 
two pieces of pizza and some chips before dozing off.  He was obviously 
quite exhausted.  Fortunately, Dr. Lambert had assured them that he was 
none the worse for wear.  Even the wounds on his neck from where the 
vampire had bitten him had faded.  Paul suspected that Scott had at some 
point healed them on his own.  Jenny had fallen asleep at about the same 
time, emotionally, mentally, and physically drained.  Paul suspected she 
was still having alot of trouble accepting totally what had happened.  
And he didn't blame her.  Maybe later he'd tell her it was really all a 
dream.  
  So now he watched as Mulder, Scully, and Natalie were having a 
discussion about vampires, medicine, and other topics of mutual 
interest.  Mulder had spent a few minutes vainly trying to, as he 
understood it, 'gross out' Natalie while she ate with stories of all the 
things he and Scully had encountered while working on the X-files.  
Apparantly it was almost impossible to do that to a coroner.  In fact, 
Natalie and Scully had teamed up on Mulder by telling graphic stories 
about some of the things they'd seen in autopsies.  They'd won.  Paul had 
joined in the discussion occassionally, offering his observations on the 
things he'd sensed throughout the evening.  Mulder had been fascinated, 
and had asked him to describe as thoroughly as he could the range of his 
"powers".  Paul had complied to the best of his abilities, to which 
Mulder had responded that it was no wonder Fox and 'Cancer Man' were 
leery of him.  And that he was glad Paul was on their side.
  Eventually Nick, Duncan, and Connor arrived.  Duncan and Connor both 
looked more than a little ragged.  Connor relayed the story of his 
encounter with LaCroix once again. 
  "Nick!  That reminds me--LaCroix called just before everyone else got 
here.  He sounded really weird, like he was on amphetimines or 
something," Nat exclaimed as Connor finished.  Nick looked puzzled, then 
played the message.  His confusion seemed to increase.
  "Who is this guy?" Mulder asked.
  "The one who made me what I am...the vampire who brought me across.  A 
very old and dangerous person," Nick replied.
  "Not someone you'd like to meet in a dark alley, I take it," mused Mulder.
  "You wouldn't want to meet him in a well-lighted alley," said Natalie.
  "When, exactly did he 'bring you across', if you don't mind my asking?" 
queried Scully.
  "1228," Nick responded.  Mulder whistled and Scully looked surprised.  
Even Duncan and Connor looked impressed.
  "800 years?  And you called this LaCroix old?  I'm afraid to even ask 
how old _he_ is," remarked Scully.
  "Something else I think you should know about LaCroix.  I believe he's 
the one who stole your file."
  "Wait a minute---which file? Scully, you didn't tell me a file was 
missing." Mulder looked accusingly at Scully.
  "In all the excitement it slipped my mind.  The file on Paul and 
Scott--that's the one he took."
  This was cause for some concern to Paul.  If this old and powerful 
vampire had a file on him and his son it was another reason to leave the 
area.  This LaCroix sounded dangerous, and it wasn't a good idea to be 
too close to dangerous people who knew about him.  Mulder didn't look 
very pleased either.
  "This always happens!  Whenever I get positive proof of 
extraterrestrial activity on Earth it vanishes!"
  "Well, look at it this way--at least it's not government conspirators.  
For all we know, _they_ still have no idea that you and I were involved 
in the rescue of Scott Hayden," Scully said.
  "Yeah, you're right.  Besides, if I still had the file, it would just 
disappear next time they ransacked my apartment."
  The topic of discussion drifted away from LaCroix and on to more 
practical matters.  Paul voiced his desire to leave the area as soon as 
possible.  Connor, Duncan and Nick all offered advice on relocation, 
speaking as  experts on the subject.  It was decided that Paul, Jenny and 
Scott would stay at Nick's until nightfall.  Connor knew someone in the 
area who could produce false IDs for the family.  Nick suggested 
passports as well. Neither Canada or the US would be especially safe, 
considering that the US government officials who were after the family 
now had positive proof that the real Paul Forrester was deceased and had 
been for some time, which lent enough proof to George Fox's claims for 
action to be taken.  Serious action, of which tonight had just been a 
foretaste.  Paul expressed some concern about Scott's continuing 
education.  In response, Mulder gave him the name of people he knew at 
Oxford.
  "There's no guarantee that Scott will be accepted, but it certainly 
doesn't hurt to have contacts," he pointed out.  Nick offered to have 
Scott's records forwarded to whereever they ended up.  Duncan, as it 
turned out, had some property in Scotland that was currently between 
tenants, and Connor, who needed to leave the area anyway (being a dead 
murder suspect) offered to escort them that far.  Nat said that she would 
pick up Jenny's car from the station later that morning and drive it to 
Nick's.  In the car were all the belongings Jenny had packed up before 
coming to alert them of Scott's kidnapping. In an amazingly short time, 
they'd managed to plan Paul's family's exodus from Toronto.  Paul was 
amazed, and extremely grateful.
  "I don't know how I can thank you all," he said.
  "Look, it's the least we can do after the incredibly crappy way you've 
been treated since you came to our planet.  Think of us as the planetary 
Welcome Wagon...albeit a few years tardy," Nat responded.
  "Well, you could answer a few questions for us about life, the 
universe, and everything," Mulder said.
  "Hmm...I don't know about everything, but I could tell you a few things 
about life and the universe," replied Paul.  
  "You go right ahead and ask, Mulder, but I'm beat. And I think Paul 
could use some sleep as well," Scully interjected.  Duncan, Connor, Nick and 
Natalie all expressed similar feelings.
  "What time is it?" Duncan asked.
  "7:30" Nick replied.
  "Oh no....what am I going to tell Anne?"
  "I gave her a call as soon as I got here and told her that you were 
helping the police and the FBI with this case and that you might be out 
for a long time.  I'm not sure if she was really satisfied with what I 
told her, though.  You may still have some explaining to do," Nat told him.
  Duncan groaned as he, Connor, Nat, Mulder, and Scully made ready to 
leave.  Nick showed Paul where he could bed down for the night.  They 
decided to leave Jenny and Scott, who hadn't stirred for over an hour, 
where they were.  As everyone headed into the elevator, Nick called out.
  "Agent Mulder?"
  "Yes?"
  "I think this time you've got _my_ trenchcoat."
  
=====================================================================
======

From: martin@PROBLEM_WITH_INEWS_GATEWAY_FILE (Michele Martin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: XOVER: The Witness 26/26
Date: 16 May 1995 17:36:00 GMT


Epilogue.....

  Sam waited for the blue haze of the leap to clear up so he could survey 
his new surroundings.  Already the memories of his previous leap were 
becoming jumbled.  All that really remained clear was that something 
extremely strange had taken place.  Something about...aliens? vampires?  
sword fights?  Perhaps it was better forgotten.  As the seemingly eternal 
moment of transition ended, he found himself seated in front of a 
computer.  He stared blankly at the screen, which contained a confusing 
array of numbers...like some sort of code.
  "Well, what do you think?" a woman's voice asked nearby.  *What do I 
think?  About what?*
  "Austin?  Hello?" the voice asked again.  A hand waved in front of his 
face.  He shook his head as if to clear it and turned to face whoever it 
was.  The woman seated on the desk next to him looked to be in her 
mid-twenties.  Before he could think of a reply, a phone rang.  Or 
something rang--it sounded like a phone.  But he couldn't actually _see_ 
a phone anywhere in this...what?  It wasn't a house...more like a 
warehouse.  He could see all sorts of scientific equipment scattered 
around.  In the middle, not far from where he sat, was an area that 
looked sort of like a kitchen.  A sofa and television was off to one 
side.  Nothing that looked like a bedroom, though there were steps 
leading to a sort of second story.  All this he took in as he glanced 
around for the phone.  It rang again...sounding like it was coming from 
some sort of loud speaker.
  "Are you going to get that?" the woman asked, beginning to look a bit 
concerned.  "Austin, are you feeling alright?"
   "Um, well, now that you mention it, I do have kind of a headache..." 
he answered lamely.  
   "I hope this doesn't mean that your brain is going kaput...though I 
wouldn't be surprised if you got a sudden case of burnout.  You know, you 
really ought to take a vacation, away from all this stuff," as she said 
this, she grabbed a small microphone that was sitting on the table near 
his hand.  "Patch it in.  Austin James' residence...."
   "Miss Castle?  Is Mr. James there?" a petulent voice responded over the 
sound system.  
   "He's right here, Detective Walker.  But he's...," she paused as if 
trying to decide _what_ he was doing, "...very busy at the moment.  Can I 
take a message?"
   "Yes.  You can tell him there's been another murder."
   *Not again* Sam thought as he involuntarily muttered, "Oh boy."


Mulder's apartment
3 weeks later

   Mulder carefully opened the door to his apartment, his arms full of 
mail and his mind on the most recent case.  He and Scully were to fly out 
to Los Angeles tomorrow to investigate the disappearance and possible 
murder of Drs Elvin Lincoln and William Hayes, two researchers with the 
Human Investigation Team of Humanidyne, a private research institute. 
That sometimes worked on government and military contracts.  Which was 
one of the reasons Mulder was interested in the case.  The other had to 
do with a fingerprint found in the laboratory of the two men--a 
fingerprint that appeared to have been made by someone only 6 inches 
tall.  Yet when blown up to normal human proportions it exactly matched 
that of Dr. Lincoln, a man standing 7 feet 4 inches in height.  Very 
strange. Almost as strange as the fact that the only motor vehicle Dr. 
Hayes owned was a Fundae Sundae Ice Cream truck...which was also missing.
  As he pondered over the oddities of this current case, he sorted 
through the day's mail.  Mostly junk, but there were two items of 
interest.  One was a thick envelope postmarked from Seattle.  The 
return address read "Joe's Bar".  The other was a postcard from Ireland.  He 
decided to open the envelope first.  It was full of photocopied pages 
from a book.  He scanned the pages, his eyes widening in surprise.  This 
was the information Duncan MacLeod had promised--information on the 
Immortal called Hanson, who Mulder knew only as "Cancer Man".  He'd have 
to find a safe place to keep this.  There was one other thing in side.  
It was a small flier with the title "So, you want to be a Watcher?" and a 
picture of a symbol Mulder recognized as the tattoo the alien, Paul 
Forrester, had seen tattooed on the wrist of the vampire that had 
attacked his son.  Just thinking that last sentence made his head hurt.  
He skimmed the information in the flier.  Tempting, but no.  Tattoos made 
him squeamish.  
  Setting the packet of information aside, he picked up the postcard.  It 
was signed simply 'PF'.  He had a sneaking suspicion who it was from, and 
the message on the card confirmed it:
  "Greetings Agent Mulder,
  "We arrived safely in Scotland with CM and have been spending the 
holiday season touring Europe.  S says he needs a break after what 
happened, and we have to wait for NK to send us his records anyway.  
Besides which, none of us has ever been to Europe before.  It's very 
interesting, especially here in Ireland.  One thing puzzles me, 
though.  Everywhere we go in this country, I see these tiny men dressed 
all in green.  But no one else seems to notice them.  Even S thinks I'm 
"seeing things".  Perhaps it is something you'll investigate someday.  
I've also contacted my people regarding your missing S.  I hope one day 
to repay you for your help by aiding you in your quest.  Give our regards 
to Agent Scully, PF."
  He read the message carefully.  Twice.  Little men?  It couldn't 
be...no, he didn't even want to think about it.  The latter half of the 
message was more important.  Apparantly he'd contacted others of his 
kind regarding Samantha. For that alone, Mulder was extremely grateful.  
He turned to the picture of his sister that sat on his desk.  It had 
been taken shortly before her disappearance.  He carried the picture 
over to his couch as he sat down and continued to gaze at the picture.  
And wonder, yet again, where she was....

...She was wondering the same thing as she slowly returned to 
consciousness.  Though why she had been unconscious...or asleep...was a 
mystery.  In fact, almost everything that had happened before was a 
mystery.  She wasn't even sure of her name.  Wait, she could almost...  
The distant, hazy memory of a young male voice calling "Samantha" floated 
through her consciousnes.  Samantha--that was her.  The voice belonged 
to...Fox!  Her brother.  But why had he been calling her name?  It seemed 
so long ago.  And where was she?  Well, there was one way to find out.  
  Slowly she opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, on some sort of 
couch or bed.  The ceiling far above her was metallic, and she couldn't 
identify the light source.  She turned her head to one side to get a 
better look at the room.  From what she could see, it was some sort of 
lab or hospital or something.  It didn't quite look right.  Suddenly a 
voice spoke from her other side.  It sounded like a woman's voice, but 
the language was unfamiliar.  She turned to face the speaker--a woman, in 
her mid-thirties, with short, blond hair and a friendly smile.  The woman 
was wearing a rather unflattering tan outfit--almost like some sort of 
uniform. She spoke again, but Samantha still couldn't understand it.
  "I'm sorry....I, I, don't understand..." she stammered. She was 
surprised at the sound of her own voice.  It didn't really sound quite 
the way she had remembered it.  It was...older, somehow.  But then, how 
old was she?
  The woman, meanwhile, had looked a little puzzled at her response. 
Obviously she didn't understand Samantha either.  She indicated with her 
hand that she'd be back in a moment and moved over to a nearby table.  
>From it, she picked up an odd looking device.  She brought it back to 
where Samantha was and indicated that she should speak into it.
  "What do you want me to say?" she asked, puzzled.  The device beeped, 
then displayed a myriad of flashing lights.  Suddenly, the device itself 
seemed to speak in a tone similar to Samantha's, but in a different 
language.  The woman nodded, and smiled again.  She spoke into the 
device.  After a brief delay, the device apparantly repeated the message 
to Samantha, this time in English.
  "Sorry--I didn't realize that there might be a language problem.  This 
is a languatron--it will translate for us.  How are you feeling?"
  "Um, fine...I guess.  My head is a little bit sore.  Please, can you 
tell me where I am and how I got here?"  Samantha realized her voice 
sounded shaky.  Probably because she was very frightened.
  "You were rescued from another ship.  Don't be frightened--I'm here to 
help you. My name is Cassiopeia...but you can just call me Cassie.  I'm a 
doctor, sort of.  Do you remember anything at all?  Like your name, for 
starters?"
  "I'm Samantha...but that's all I can remember.  Did you say rescued?  
>From whom?"
  "Well, we're not really sure.  We've never encountered beings like the 
ones who had you captive. I must say, though, they weren't particularly 
friendly.  But you seem to be mostly unharmed.  I'm not surprised you 
can't really remember too much...it must have been a very tramatic 
experience.  Do you remember at all where you're from?"
  "Wait, you still haven't told me where I am...and who's 'we'?"
  "You're in the Life Center of our ship. You were unconscious when you 
were found, so they brought you in here." Cassiopeia glanced over at the 
far corner of the room.  Samantha noticed now that there were two men 
standing in the corner, trying to remain unobtrusive.  Both were dressed 
in uniforms the same color as Cassie's, with brown jackets and rather 
ominous looking weapons on their belts.  Samantha swallowed nervously.  
Cassie seemed to notice her distress.
  "Don't worry.  There are the men who rescued you.  Please, don't be 
frightened...we just want to know as much as we can about you so we can 
help you." She motioned to the two men to come forward.  "This is Captain 
Apollo," she indicated the dark-haired one, "and this is Lieutenant 
Starbuck," pointing at the blond-haired one, who flashed her a friendly 
smile.  Samantha still wasn't sure that they were quite as friendly as 
they appeared, though she couldn't determine why she felt so, well, paranoid.
  "Can you take me home?" she asked.  She really wanted to go home.  Her 
parents and her brother must really be worried about her.  She said as 
much to the three people surrounding her.
  "Can you tell us where home is?" asked the one called Apollo.  "Are you 
from the Colonies?"
  *Colonies?  What colonies? Were these some of those old-fashioned 
European types that referred to America as the colonies?*  "I'm from 
Massachusetts...in America," she replied.  The looked confuse, as if 
they'd never heard of those places.  Which made Samantha _really_ nervous.
  "Ah, is 'Massachusetts' or 'America' the name of the planet you come 
from?" asked the one called Starbuck.  A cold shiver ran down Samantha's 
spine.  *Oh dear God!  Where am I?  What happened?*  she thought.  
  "Neither...the planet's name is Earth," she answered in a small voice.  
  When the languatron finished the translation, Starbuck, Apollo, and 
Cassiopeia looked stunned.  They exchanged surprised, yet hopeful 
glances. All at once they turned back to her and exclaimed, "Did you say 
_Earth_ ??!!"


*****************************THE END*************************************
               
The author wishes to thank her creative consultant, Lisa Kadlec, for 
help with characterizations and for putting up with listening to her 
crazy ramblings on story ideas.  Thanks also to James Holman for a few 
creative imput ideas of his own.  Sorry the video truck wasn't used 
_exactly_ as you intended, James. :)    

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


--
Michele Martin
martin@abacus.mc.duke.edu
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Evil Guest Immortal: "I have you now, MacLeod." <clang, clang>
Duncan MacLeod: "I admit it.  You're better than I am." <clang, clang>
EGI: "Then why are you smiling?" <clang, clang>
MacLeod: "Because I know something you don't know..." <clang, clang> 
"..._I_ am the star of this show." <clang, slash, whap!, thud, cool fx>
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