Subject: Corpse 35/35 From: livengoo@tiac.net Date: 24 Jul 1995 05:16:33 GMT Message-ID: Corpse 35/35 Okay you long-suffering readers. This is it. The end of Corpse. You're now free of me and my nasty little story for a bit, unless you're unwise enough to go looking for Goo-ey stuff. There may or may not be another Emma/Jerry story depending on how much interest I have or you generate. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files are all property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen and Fox. Used without permission, profit, or intent to infringe. The story, Emma, Jer and the rest are all inventions of Livengoo. I'm not adverse to seeing them in other peoples' work, but get my permission first. Thank you all for coming along on this ride with me! The whole story can be found, along with all kinds of other neat stuff, at the X-Files archives, and thank you Vincent Juodvalkis for looking after that site for all of us. Goo ________________________ We had until two, so we didn't torture ourselves with what passed for food in the courthouse. Jerry fell into step as we walked out the door. "So, what's the verdict?" "You know perfectly well we're just adjourned. No decision yet." The words came out with a harsh note I hadn't quite intended. Jerry glanced at me. He slowed down a little letting Mulder and Scully walk on ahead. We watched them for a moment. I'd expected Fox to be rattled. That tight, calm facade he'd kept, sitting back in his chair the whole time, had no doubt looked good, but I'd felt how unnatural it was the few times I'd brushed against his arm. The muscles under his jacket had been locked, the chin that he'd rested on his hand had looked clenched the whole time. I wasn't surprised that Mulder was wrung out. What surprised me was the pale, nervous look on Scully's face. She'd held herself almost as tense as he had, and I was baffled as to what she was fighting to control. Jerry didn't seem to know either, but I figured the feds really needed the space. We let them get about fifteen feet ahead of us. If he hadn't been so much taller their heads would have been together, but both looked too tense to be mistaken for lovers on a walk. As they walked, she gradually did more and more talking, as though he was dragging the words out of her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jerry squint in the thin sunlight. His black hair and olive skin looked washed out and winter pale. He tried to catch my eyes and I looked away from him, surprised at the anger and tension that still coiled in my shoulders. He hunched tighter, away from the wind. "Emma, I know I haven't said much to you about this. This whole thing has to have been very, very hard for you. . . " "You might say that, Jerry. It still is hard." He reached over to put a hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. The tentative look on his face didn't make me contrite today, the way it might have most of the time. "It will be over soon, Emma. No matter what. . . " I heard the anxious sound in his voice, and was glad to upset him even while I wasn't feeling quite right about it. "Fuck it, Jerry. Just get away from me." I glared at him, ignored the pale, tight look that was suddenly on his face, ignored Mulder's nagging voice in the back of my head, telling me that I should think carefully before I burned this bridge. "Emma!" Jerry grabbed me suddenly. Grabbed both my arms and held me still. "Damn it, this is because of what I told you last night, isn't it?" "You little fuck! You think you can just tell me you've been using me since I dropped in your lap like the best thing since a good screw and you think I'm not gonna be upset? You think I'm just gonna make up and play nice?!" God, my nose was all snotty and I couldn't breathe, and I could feel how red and ugly my face was, and feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and hurting in the cold wind. I think Mulder and Scully were staring. It looked like he'd put a hand out to hold her back, but they were blurred in my vision a second later. Jerry was still holding me, and his hands almost bruised my arms. He suddenly pulled me in tight, wrapped me and held me, even though I was trying to shove him off. "Let go of me you bastard." "Emma." He was holding me almost tight enough to hurt. "Emma. You may not want to believe it, but I told the truth last night. You'd never be my first choice for conspirator. You're too damn honest." His voice was soft in my ear. "Emma, listen to me. Please listen to me." He let me back a little way, though he was still holding me, hands wrapped around my upper arms. "I was so scared when I found out you were in the middle of all this. I'd barely thought of you in months, hardly talked to you, but you were one of the ones I thought was safe." I stared at him, sniffling. Glanced sideways to see that Fox and Dana had found a window to shop at. Looked back at Jerry and ignored all the other people out here. They didn't count. They were strangers. "Emma, I've lost a lot of friends. Too many. I don't care if they died because they had AIDS, or they were driving drunk, or whatever. It doesn't matter. But I've lost a lot. And I always kind of assumed you were safe. You'd stay safe." He let go of me, let his hands fall to his sides. "You were the one I kind of kept in reserve, knowing I'd always have one friend out there, because good old Emma didn't break any of the rules, and so she'd always be safe. And I really wanted to keep you that way. Some of what I know kills people, Emma. What I've been learning. . . There are people who've died because they knew things, Emma." He looked over at the feds himself. "People like Mulder, or like Scully?" He smiled, but it was a pretty pale smile. "I don't know many people who you could say are like either of them, but kind of that idea. Yeah. I know. . . knew a couple people who kind of got mugged to death, or drove too fast on the wrong roads, or whatever excuse you want to find, because they knew the kind of stuff Scully or Mulder know. And. . . I really didn't want you to become one of those people." He looked at me, and his face had that kind of tight look I felt on my own features. "And you're bound and determined to stick your neck in this noose, no matter what I do. Aren't you?" I bit my lip and thought about it. Thought about it very carefully. And finally nodded my head. "Yes Jerry. Yes I am." He looked like somethiing was broken, way deep inside, but he nodded. When we both turned at started walking again, teh feds did too. This time it was them giving us the room. I was relieved it was still a couple blocks away. When they reached the restaurant I had in mind, I caught up to them. Fox was just shaking his head, telling her no to something, when I tapped their shoulders and pointed out the little Afghani place I'd decided would be diverting for lunch. Jerry was picking up the tab today, letting the taxpayer off the hook, since he'd just conducted what he could excuse as an interview with me. Lots of food with paprika and other wonderful things gave us an excuse not to talk about the hearing for at least an hour. I could see that both Scully and Mulder really just wanted the whole thing to be over, wanted it done with. Whatever they'd been talking about, it was clear that Peter Kane brought up bad memories for both of them. Jerry showed more tact than I would have expected, and let them off the hook. Instead, were treated to recycled stories of P.J. O'Rourke managing foreign cultures by insulting the French and committing other atrocities. Reporters do have the best gossip. A couple good rumors about the foibles and peccadillos of Washington insiders had both our guests in a much better mood, while the food left a warm glow in our bellies. We sat back finally with coffee and desserts so dense they could earn a new place on the periodic table of elements, each in his or her own world. I'd willingly have put hard money that though we were lost in our separate worlds, the general content was very similar. Scully broke the silence. "Mulder says you plan to sell your house, Emma." I felt Jerry's startled eyes on me as I nodded. "Yeah. I look around and it just reminds me of how different I am." "Are you sure you want to do that? It's a big step. . . " There was a worried frown between her eyes, a hesitant note in her voice. Mulder was holding the tiny coffee cup used to drink the thick sludge that passed for coffee here, turning the cup around and around in his hand. I didn't want to look at Jerry's face. "Um. It's kind of hard to explain, but I think I'm going to change a lot of things in my life. I. . . well, I'm going to quit my job, too." "You're not planning to join the FBI?" The smile was slow, but real, and the laugh in her voice washed out a lot of the tension. Mulder grinned at her as if there were a private joke or two behind that idea. "Don't worry, Scully. I don't think Legal has any openings now. And I know Securities Fraud doesn't." "No. You don't need to worry about me dropping by and opening my mouth." I grinned back. "I think I just want to travel for a while. Try my hand at writing something that doesn't involve allotted parking spaces and maintenance contracts." I settled back, and saw Jerry from the corner of my eye. He was eying me now, but speculatively. Thoughtfully. "You'll have to let us know when you have your first book tour." Mulder had gotten the check, but Jerry snagged it out of his hands and tucked his card in the folder. "Why? So you two can attend?" "Either that or go out of the country." ___________________ The walk back was quiet, but hardly peaceful. It was cold enough now that most people scurried to get indoors, their coats flapping wildly around their bodies as the wind tried to spin them about. Jerry was hunched inside his wool coat, but Chicago winters had inured him to a lot of this. I wasn't so blase about the weather, a sentiment I suspected I shared with Mulder and Scully. We had half an hour until the hearing reconvened, and we were in no hurry to get there. Even in the tame, restrained settings of the courthouse, Kane corroded the edges of reality. I found myself looking at the men and women who scurried past me and wondering if any of them were hunters, or hunted. I tried hard not to look at my companions at all. The wind chilled my legs as it blew around my ankles and whipped under my coat. The courthouse felt over-heated and smelled of dust and clashing aftershaves. Passing women frequently trailed a heavy aura of perfume, and the clatter of high heels and dress shoes on marble echoed in the rotunda as we waited for the guards to run our briefcases through the x-ray machine, and to check Scully's license and ID before they would let us pass. The elevator to our floor was crowded, and we had to work and hold the door open for all four of us to get out of the car. Jerry grinned and waved us in, choosing to stay outside again rather than sit through the procedures. Kane was already in his seat, waiting, when we returned to our spots. The marshall who stood behind his chair looked bored, but efficient. Jeffries was over leaning against Waverly's table, chatting amiably enough with the prosecutor. Every so often he would shoot nervous glances back at his client, who took those in with the same calm, smug smile he'd worn for most of the hearing. He turned that look on us as we settled into our seats. "You sounded real good up there, little Fox. Real convincing." Mulder didn't even hesitate, just smoothly took his seat and glanced up at Kane. The Marshall looked uncertain as to whether he should advise his prisoner to shut up or not. "Thank you Dennis. You sounded quite convincing as well." The agent's civil reply seemed to reassure the marshal and he relaxed again, just watching his charge. "You will remember what I been telling you, won't you little brother?" Kane tilted his head back, and a look that might have been concern was on his face. "I'll remember about the x-rays, Dennis." "And about the others. You keep trying to hide, you are not going to leave them much choice." Mulder watched him consideringly. "I'm sure you'll keep reminding me, Dennis. Maybe one day we can discuss why there are Bad Ones.' Kane's face pulled into a slow, wide smile below cold blue eyes. "That's right, isn't it. You'll come visit me when I'm inside, see if you can learn to find us before we * find * you." Those last words each accented with a tap of the finger on the arm of his chair. "Except, we already found you, little brother. We're already watching you." The marshal's eyes were worried again, back and forth between Mulder and Kane. "And I found you, Dennis. You just jumped the gun on me." Now Mulder was smiling back at him, trading professional courtesies. "I knew you'd get around to it, little brother. Might as well cut the wait. And I wanted to see you again." Whatever Mulder was going to say was lost as the bailiff stepped into the room, calling us to rise. The formalities were quick and rapidly dispensed with as Millone took his seat and looked around at us. He straightened the notes in front of him and looked down at both members of counsel, assuring himself that they had no further questions. Both stated they were finished, although Waverly still wore a somewhat sullen expression. Whatever had transpired at lunch for him had not been as pleasant as our own lunch had been. "In cases such as these, it can be difficult to diffentiate between an individual who believes that the appearance of insanity will insulate him from the full judgement of the law, and one who is genuinely unable to avail himself of the protections and rights afforded him under the law. In such cases I have presumed in favor of an individual's competence, rather than otherwise." He scanned all of us, and let his stare fall on Kane last of all. "There are cases however, rare though they be, where it becomes apparent that, despite intelligence, wit, and some modicum of understanding, the person in question has so divergent a view of reality that our legal system will not be able to adequately seek justice in the matter at hand." Not difficult as legal-speak went, just wordy. Kane was too looped to trust his lawyer, therefore could not get adequate representation of counsel. "In such cases we take the merciful option and remand that individual to the care of the state, to be held and treated until such time as the individual may, if ever, avail himself of his legal right to trial." Mulder fidgeted and eyed the judge. I could almost hear his voice speculating that judge-speak was an X-File. In law school I had amused myself during the long, dark hours of studying corporate structure by inventing speeches that judges would use in bed with their wives. "A time inevitably comes when man must submit to the judgement of the senses and devote his full attention to whether the learned hand must attend to the . . . ," and her reply. "Shut up and put up." I wondered if they had support groups for judges' wives. "In the matter of Peter Kane, a.k.a. Dennis Tolleson, we find the defendant unable to seek effective assistance of counsel, unable to adequately comprehend legal proceedings related to him, and therefore we remand him into the care of Ashcroft State Hospital for thirty days, open to review, pending procedures for civil commitment." The gavel's loud crack was a satisfying note to end Millone's discourse. The marshall helped his charge rise, then stepped back and followed him, directing him out the door to the right of the witness box. As Kane's broad back left my sight, I found I was shaking, hands trembling almost. Scully had stood up and was using the railing to brace her hands and stretch, letting her head fall back to work out the tension from her neck, her shoulders. The smile on her face was wide and crinkled her eyes. When I turned to look at Mulder, however, he was still staring at the spot where Kane had been sitting, a puzzled frown on his face. His fingers tapped his knee, once, twice, then froze in mid-air. His eyes flickered back and forth, as though he were reading something. "Excuse me." The words were too distracted to sound rude, and he took my shoulders and moved me out of the way, walking to the exit so briskly that he almost ran. He was out the door an instant later, leaving me staring open mouthed. Then Scully pushed past me, concern and surprise on her face, heading for the same door at a quick trot. I was through the door after her, before it had swung all the way shut, cursing myself for being so dumb at the same time as I scanned the hall for where her partner had to have gone. The elevator was still coming down from the upper floors but the stairwell door was slowly swinging shut. We scrambled down the stairs, me following just behind her, and I was never so grateful for liking low heels before in my life. Below us we could just hear footfalls, heavy and spaced like he was taking the stairs two or three at a time, almost jumping down the flights. Four floors down, racing, and my heart was pounding and I was breathing hard with a chest that ached deep down and a cough that kept shaking my lungs. We barrelled out the door that was still swinging shut, to see him racing across the parking garage, clean, dark gray in a dirty gray world of strobing, cheap fluorescents and ugly, pale concrete. In the center, engine running, sat a van with no markings. The back door was open and Peter Kane smiled out at us, past the man in coveralls who sat next to him, glaring at us, and a man in a dark jacket on his other side. The man in coveralls yanked the door shut and I heard the engine rev. Fox almost threw himself, slamming against the closed door, twisting at the handle and running to keep pace as the van started away from him. "Mulder!" Scully's scream echoed off the concrete, sharp and high. I was pelting along after her, fearing the van would back up over him, but it swerved, fishtailed just a little. Not much, but enough to throw a running man off balance. He tumbled onto the hood of a parked car, dropped to the ground, breathing in deep, noisy, open-mouthed gasps that sounded like they came from the bottom of his lungs, and breaking off as coughs rattled through him. He wasn't paying much attention to them, however. His entire focus was on the van as it pulled out of sight around the turn, wheels squealing. He reached for his phone before he realized he no longer had one - it had gone the way of his gun. Cursed and coughed and let his head drop onto his knees with frustration. Scully was next to him now, kneeling, panting. I stopped where I was, perhaps twenty feet back, braced my hands on my knees and let the coughs wrack me and shake me until they could calm just a little, until I could breathe just enough. Fox had his arms around his ribs, and the coughs still clenched him, but they didn't put the bitter look on his face. It was long minutes before his coughing slowed a little, and he was pale as he sat back against the grill of the car behind him. His voice was hoarse and rough. "He was too calm." Scully nodded at the words, paying more attention to pulse and to his tone than to what he said. "He was too calm, Scully." He put his palms flat and tried to shove himself onto his feet. I put a hand under his arm, and so did she, but he shook us off. Unfolded himself up from the floor, but still wrapped just a little over his ribs. He shot another poisonous glare up the empty ramp that had carried the van. We flanked him and let him set the pace. He and I both punctuated our steps with coughs, mine in staccato little bursts and his coming more often, and deeper. I could hear him trying to stop them, hold them in. He lead us back through a door other than the one we'd come through. Walls with no ornament, and the faint smell of sweat and urine. It reminded me of the barren walls of the secure ward. As it turned out, there was a reason for that. We turned a corner to find a barred door, ajar now. The marshall lay sprawled out on the floor. He was breathing, but unconscious. Mulder found the broken shaft of a small dart, with a sharp, vicious point and an empty barrel. He met Scully's eyes. "He's lucky he's not dead." He handed the thing to his partner, who looked at it with distaste. "You're thinking emmeyebee?" He nodded. Coughed again, spat. "But why?" But she didn't sound like she was really asking a question. More like it was a formal rite she had to observe. Mulder looked at the guard. Back to her. And just shook his head. I pulled out my phone and called 911. ____________________ Two days later they were gone. I dropped them at the airport with their bags and briefcases, and a new coat to keep Mulder warm instead of the one he'd borrowed from Seth. It was strange when they got out of the car. Scully, next to me, turned and and half reached for a hug like I'd have given to a friend, then stopped and changed the motion to one of those handshakes you give with both hands. The kind that are almost a hug for a hand. Her rueful grin made me laugh and I pulled her into the hug anyway. "Don't be silly, Scully. I brought you enough coffee and danish to qualify for the kind of hug you'd give a sorority sister." I could feel her laugh at that before I let her go. Mulder had already scooted out fo the backseat, and I popped the trunk and got out to join him. "I'm not a sorority sister." He grinned down at me. "No, and you'd look pretty silly in the little skirt and pom poms they made me wear for hazing." He blushed, but the grin was wider than ever and his eyes were bright, brown shot with green. He managed the suitcases without any trouble that I could see, and I was relieved. Scully had stepped up to the curb and was getting their stuff tagged for luggage check so they wouldn't have to wait in line. I looked back up to Fox, and pulled out a bag of seeds. "Here ya go. Just to annoy Scully on the ride back." "She's used to them by now. You'll be all right?" The flicker of concern darkened his smile. "Yeah. I've already got some interest for the house. I think I'll get a good price." "Smoke and mirrors, Emma. Will *you* be all right?" I smiled, slow and peaceful. "Yes, Mulder. Jerry called, and he's going to sort of mentor me in all this. I'll be traveling with a modem and a car phone, so I won't be out of touch. And you gave me your email, too." He rolled his eyes. "Mulder. . . Last chance, what did really happen to Kane?" He just smiled. "Deny everything, Emma. If you ever learn, you tell me." I snorted. Looked over at Scully, waiting with their boarding passes. "You'd better be going. You'll miss your flight." He hesitated a moment, hand half out like he was thinking of shaking my hand. I wasn't Kane or Waverly, and I didn't intend to say goodbye like Kane or Waverly. I caught his hand and pulled him into a hug, like I had with Scully. He even kind of hugged me back, like a guy who's embarrassed to be caught hugging his sister in public. "Take care, Emma. And look out for the things that hide in the light as well as the dark." "You too, Mulder. You too." ____________________ FROM: drtlwyr@tiac.com TO: ghost_wrtr@lepvx5.FBI.gov SUBJ: Mark of Kane Hey! You guys said you'd be at my first book signing (or out of the country!). Well, it's time to ante up. Meet me at Moonstone Books in DC on the 18th and I'll autograph your copies. It's been ages and I want to see you! Jer says 'Hi.' (Actually, he said I should kiss Mulder for him, and say hi to Scully). You've seen the galleys and you know no one will spot you from them, so it's safe for you to come out to play. Ain't fiction great? And I have some stuff I need to show you. I'm sure you've seen more persuasive material, but I've been collecting information that might pertain to our mutual friend and his friends, and I have copies for you. I'd feel much, much more comfortable if I knew this stuff was in your hands. Just so you'll know, Jerry's been making friends too. Interesting world out there, beyond the sidewalks. So let's get together and pretend you need to question me, and we'll run up your credit card at the Red Sea or the Iron Gate Inn. See you on the 18th. Emma End