*****************************************************
"My father is in Phoenix..." Sedona to be more accurate,
but Phoenix was the only city with an airport close by.
Starkweather closed the Day Planner and slid it back to
it's exact position on Kersh's desk. "My father pulls
Kersh's leash," she muttered. "Not the other way around..."

Suddenly, her cell phone vibrated. She looked down at the
message screen and saw Skinner's cell phone number. She
didn't even answer it. It was their signal that the meeting
was over and Kersh and his receptionist were on their way
back.

Starkweather scurried out of Kersh's office, about to lock
the door behind her. Then, she heard Kersh's hated baritone
instructing his secretary outside of the secretary's
office.

Starkweather, with self-preservation being her goal, went
back into Kersh's office, locking the door behind her. She
looked down at the expensive leather sofa against the wall
and threw herself onto the ground next to it. She had just
wedged herself all the way underneath when she heard Kersh
unlock the door and walk in.

<<I'm toast>> she thought, sweating.

Starkweather feverently hoped no one would come in and sit
on the couch she was hiding under, she was afraid she would
be squished.

She could hear Kersh shuffling papers at his desk, then the
sound of fingers hitting the keyboard. She tried to control
her breathing as she felt all of her muscles tensing up.

She was definitely in a state of "Flight or Fight" mode,
which was not good, especially since she couldn't go
anywhere yet. <<C'mon c'mon f*cker, LEAVE already!!!>> she
silently beseeched him. <<Don't you have careers to destroy
and lives to make miserable??>>

The phone rang. Starkweather lifted her head up in
surprise, thumping her head solidly on the bottom of the
couch. "Mmmff!!" she bit down hard on her little whimper of
pain as tears welled up.

Kersh, however, was totally engrossed in his phone
conversation. "Deputy Director Kersh.... ahhh... hello!" he
said warmly, as though talking to an old friend. "I was
just ready to call you... yes, I have my plane tickets
ready... oh, really? Oh... they're refundable, it's no
problem... it would be a pleasure to have you come to
town... where will you be staying... ahhh... yes, I see...
mixing a little business with pleasure then???"

<<What the holy hell?>> Starkweather thought.

"Oh she couldn't be doing better. The Minneapolis Field
Office did themselves a great disservice by letting her get
away from them. She is one of the finer agents I've had the
pleasure of working with. Very dedicated. Very though.....
yes I believe she's almost completely recovered from her
injuries...oh... what did she tell you..." A hearty laugh,
then, "Well, Jeremy, she's YOUR daughter, of course she
would downplay her attack... Yes her injuries were quite
more substantial than she told you.... But don't worry, all
of the superficial wounds on her face have healed
completely, the only sign of her attack is her wrist in her
cast. We had to FORCE her to take some downtime... like I
said, she is far and away one of the most dedicated agents
I've had working for me in a very long time..." Another
laugh while Starkweather thought <<You lying two faced rat
bastard.>>

"When can I expect you in town? Do you need someone to pick
you up at the airport? Oh, I see... then I can offer you
and the Senator dinner when you get into town...
wonderful... I'll make reservations for three then... see
you when you come in... Good bye Jeremy." He hung up the
phone, fussed a bit longer at his desk, then picked the
phone up again. "It's me... the Admiral is coming to
town... I'm going to wine and dine him and his wife when he
gets in... yes, I'll keep you updated." He hung up and made
one more call to his receptionist. "I'll be out for the
rest of the afternoon. I have some filing for you to do on
my desk. Thank you." He hung up, gathered his papers and
left his office, locking the door.
Ten minutes after he left, Starkweather with a grunt,
wedged herself from out underneath his couch, completely
furious.

Her father was coming into town with business with
**KERSH** of all people. <<WHY??>> she fumed as she left
his office, relocking his door. Kersh's secretary looked up
at her in complete surprise. "Agent Starkweather, whatever
do you think you're doing???"

Starkweather, smiling dangerously, sat up on the
secretary's desk, opening her black blazer just enough so
she could see her gun. "If you don't say anything about me
being in Kersh's office, I won't do anything about those
rather salacious, inappropriate comments you and Kimberly
were making about the four of us in the X-Files office."

She kissed the receptionist on each cheek, and, probably
because of her conversation with Mulder earlier at Scully's
apartment and because she was a HUGE movie buff, said "I
know it was you Fredo," and pranced out of Kersh's office.
Kersh's secretary was so frightened, she typed up her
letter of resignation that day and nearly fled from the J
Edgar Hoover Building.

D.C. County Courthouse
Outside the Mayor's office
11:38 AM
****************************
Whether he was being bought-and-traded out of the FBI or
not, Mulder sincerely liked his new boss. They had hit it
off at the beginning, and, even though it was a quieter
position than what he was used to, Mulder was beginning to
get accustomed to settling down. The Mayor was not Skinner,
and it wasn't nearly as fun getting up his craw as it had
been getting up Skinner's; but Mayor Thomas Swanson was a
good man, despite the legendary reputations that usually
haunted politicians.

For once in his life, Fox Mulder was a regular guy.

"Spooky" Mulder was a part of his past.  Oh sure, he'd go
straight back to hunting down the Truth if were he ever
given the opportunity faster than you could say 'alien,'
but yuppydom was a nice, comfortable change of pace, albeit
sometimes too comfortable for his liking. He scooped the
real plans for the Bay Street Park up and began to deliver
them to the Mayor's office. He was about to go in when a
heated conversation stopped him just outside the door.

"Mayor," a man was protesting, "he is in our way. He can't
continue to hold this position without interfering with our
agenda. He says it's an issue of priorities and
securities."

"Priorities and securities or not," the Mayor said "He's a
city-appointed employee, and I cannot legally remove him
from his office."

"You didn't get elected to this office exactly legally."
Said the voice flatly. "The Admiral can pull some strings
to make some sort of a scandal come to the public eye."

"That's blackmail!" the Mayor protested.

"It's not blackmail, it's helping you keeping your
priorities straight. You are aware of the circumstances
under..." the man started, but the Mayor interrupted.

"Yes," The Mayor began, careful to keep his voice even and
angry. "I am aware of how he left, but despite those
allegations, I think he's an assett to this city, and I'm
willing to give him a another chance. Look, I understand
your situation, but I've got the people of D.C. to answer
to--not a bunch of fat cats in Arizona."
<Arizona?>

"Soon, when all these allegations are brought to light, you
won't think of him so highly. The people of D.C. will think
twice about re-electing a mayor who appoints someone
rattling off about science-fiction crap in a court of law
to a powerful city position."

<My God! He's trying to threaten the Mayor into dismissing
me! I might as well kiss my normal *ss good bye>

"Be as it may," The Mayor replied heatedly, "I will wait
until he prooves you wrong."

Mulder took his cue here to duck out of view into an empty
conference room.

"I'll see myself out." Said The Man, Mulder couldn't get an
opportunity to see his face.

"Deputy" the Mayor said, greeting Mulder warmly, "finally
came around, huh? Yes...this will do just fine. Good work.
Don't forget the town counsel meeting tomorrow at four."

"Thankyou, sir" Mulder said simply <for sticking up for me-
-I wonder what the boys would think about sneaking into the
Mayor's office to find out whose in Arizona> and took his
leave.


12:37 PM

"Scully," Sam sighed heavily, "I don't think he's going to
move today until he has to go home."

"We don't know that for sure, Doggett." Scully replied. "He
may lead us straight to the solution and be none the
wiser."

"Doggett, can I ask you something?"

<As long as it doesn't involve anything specific,

<yeah...sure> "What, Scully?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I figure this is the only way to get any lead."

Scully shot him an imploring look.

"It's right." Sam said simply. Then ducked, because at just
that moment, Scully did.

"BEN!" She screamed, crouching from view of the windshield.

"Heading for the White Dodge Dynasty! Don't duck, drive!"
Scully hissed, forgetting that there was no possible way
Ben could hear her from the confines of a truck.
Sam cranked the engine up as fast as his reflexes would
allow, and made sure to wait just long enough so that Ben
wouldn't suspect he was being followed.

Ben headed down East on Wilson. Sam was following him close
enough to keep up, but far enough away not to be noticed.
Ben turned a left on Kennedy. Sam got caught by a light,
and lost him for a few beats until he saw the Dodge's
blinker just a few steps ahead, about to turn down Reagan."

"Reagan!" Scully puzzled. "There's nothing on Reagan but a
bunch of flea markets, grocery stores, a photocopy place,
and antique shops!"

"Photocopies." Sam realized. "I bet he found something for
show-and-tell for those jurors."

"You're right. There he is, pulling into it."
Sam parked the car a couple of blocks down the way, and
motioned for Scully to go follow while he parked. Scully
crouched down, and waited in the bushes.

"A squirrel just nibbled the heel of my favorite pumps."
Scully groaned.

"Sorry" Sam said sheepishly.

"I don't know how much longer I can play Crouching Oaf,
Hidden Idiot." Scully said finally after waiting in the
bushes for an hour, kicking off her pumps. "I'm gonna see
if I can get any closer."

"Thank you Mr. Martin." Ben was saying coming out of the
store. "I owe you big time for this one. You just made my
night's sleep a lot nicer."

<I wouldn't count on it> Sam thought.

"You in the doghouse with that spitfire Missus of yours?"
Mr. Martin asked, handing a small bag to him.

"Yeah," Ben said with an idiot-grin on his face, taking out
the contents of the bag for inspection. "I know when I'm
licked."

"Smart man, Mr. Starkweather, smart man." Mr. Martin said,
turning to go in.

"That's not what the evidence suggests." Scully grumbled on
the other side of the building. She craned her neck as much
as she dared, and could barely make out what the picture
was.

"Agent Starkweather's got a night of heavy breathing ahead
of her." Scully said flatly.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked, pulling away.

"That was her picture he had photocopied. It's probably a
peace offering."

"You still think he's up to something?"

"Oh, he's up to something alright."

"Can you call Agent Reyes and get her to sit with Will for
the rest of the afternoon."

"I think that can be arranged." Scully answered with a
smile.

3:24 PM
In Doggett's pick-up, Outside the Law Offices of Carter,
Adams and Spangle

"Not that I'm sure Mulder didn't deserve it, but what
exactly does Starkweather have against him?" Sam asked,
sipping his sixth bottle of coke.

"Well, from what I can gather from both Starkweather and
Mulder, I think Mulder was following up on some research of
abductees, and was trying to get information from her
mother. Unfortunately, the timing turned out to be his
disadvantage, because Starkweather's adoptive mother never
regained her lucidity after she lost it during his
questioning."

"So Starkweather is taking her anger over her mother's
death out on Mulder?"

"Probably. In the x-files, issues come with the office
benefits."

"Apparently. Speaking of issues...what's the deal with you
and Mulder?" Not that Sam was usually one to get the skinny
on office gossip, but he couldn't help but wonder what
happened with the 'we're just friends' stance both usually
took.

"Look out your window, Doggett." Scully said flatly, and
gave Sam a wan smile.

"You ever noticed the similarities between Mulder and
Starkweather?"

"Similarities?" Sam asked, getting his sixth coke out of
the cooler.

"Yeah...something around the eyes, same annoying sarcasm,
same stubbornness."

"But Starkweather's more skeptic than Mulder is about
things."

"True. But still..." Scully broke off, because at that
moment, Ben came out of his office again. "Doggett--"

"I'm already on it. Wonder where he's headed so late in the
afternoon?"

"We're about to find out."

Sam tore out of the parking lot across the street from the
office, careful not to go fast enough to make the tires
screech. He followed the car at a safe distance as it turned
on Eisenhower, on Kennedy, and then Lincoln. At the light,
Sam got an idea.

"Scully, take the wheel, I'm gonna go after him on foot.
I'll give ya the signal if something happens."

"Doggett! I can't let you go by--"

"You can argue with me till your face turns blue, and the
car won't have a driver by the next light." Sam said,
unbuckling his safety belt.

"Doggett, your cell phone won't necessarily pick up the
signal inside. Two cans and a string won't exactly work
from here."

"Just catch up with me later!"

"Doggett!" Scully protested, but before she could say
anything, Sam was out of the car, sprinting down the
street.


Mulder, after an early long, BORING business lunch with a
group of building contractors who wanted to build ANOTHER
shopping mall in DC, gratefully slid into his comfortable
chair in his office. He hated to admit it, but he REALLY
loved his new office. As much as he desired and longed for
the X-Files... it was going to be REALLY hard to go back
into the basement. <<It's going to be like going back to
your POS car after test driving a brand new Ferrari>> he
moped as he took out his cell phone and called the Lone
Gunmen.

"Frohike."

"Melvin, you sexy bitch."

"Mulder," Frohike fumed. "You could have warned us about
the Twisted Sisters coming down on us!!!"

"What?" Mulder asked. After Frohike gave Mulder the lowdown
on their run-in with Agents Scully, Reyes and Starkweather,
Mulder just chuckled and said angelically: "Oops."
"'Oops,'" Frohike ranted, a rarity from the man of little
words. "We just about got creamed by the Bitches of
Eastwick and all he says is 'Oops'."

"Hey! At least we found out Byers is a virgin!" Langly
piped up.

"Langly, please, shut up!" Byers was in a permanent state
of blush ever since he made his faux paux.

"Byers is a virgin?" Mulder had overheard Langly's remark.

"Hey, tell him I've got some videos he can borrow."

"Hey, Byers, Mulder said you can borrow his pornos for
those long lonely nights."

"I hate you guys," Byers whined.

"Anyways, what's up, Deputy Mayor?" Frohike got back to
business.

"I need you guys to get into your black formal wear later
on. There's going to be a little party at the Mayor's
office when he leaves for the day."

"Now you're talking," Frohike grunted. "What's the
occasion?"

"Just that I discovered that I still have the gift of
pissing off friends and influencing people into doing harm
unto me and the people I either adore or at least tolerate
on a day to day basis. Someone was threatening the Mayor
into canning me and I want to know why and if it's
connected in any way, shape or form with this whole oil rig
clusterfuck."

"Really?" Frohike was all ears and little talk now. "What
time?"

"The Mayor usually doesn't leave until seven o'clock at
night," the Mayor was truly dedicated to his job and his
city, "but tonight his little girl is having a birthday
party so he's leaving early around three. Most people are
out of here no later than four-thirty."

"Damn City employees," Frohike complained.

"As far as security, surprisingly it's pretty lax. Some
rent-a-cops wander around but they pretty much stay holed
up in the security office watching sports on ESPN. There's
a cleaning crew that comes in late at night, but that's
usually after eight o'clock when everyone is definitely
gone."

"Cake walk then," Frohike then.

"Cool, I love slacker jobs," Langly grinned as he munched
on Funyons.

"There might be nothing there, but tell me EVERYTHING you
find, no matter how small or insignificant you may think it
is. I'll be at Scully's the rest of the night."

"You'll be at Scully's the rest of the night," Frohike
repeated for the other two's benefit.

"Hey, Byers! Cheer up!" Langley punched him joshingly on
his shoulder, "if Mulder can get some, that means there's
hope for you yet!"

"I heard that," Mulder said. "I didn't really appreciate
it."

"Well, hell Mulder," Frohike reasoned. "Before you and
Scully finally hooked up, how long had it been for you? Ten
years?"

"GOOD BYE," Mulder snapped and hung up the phone, groaning.

<<Why do people make such a big deal about me and Scully?>
he wondered just as his cell rang again.

Expecting it to be Frohike again, he snarled "WHAT???"

"Mulder, it's Skinner."

"Oh... sorry sir." Chastised, he mumbled.

"Don't call me sir. Anyway, have you heard from anyone yet?

Doggett, Scully, Starkweather???"

"No si- ummm, Skinner, I haven't. Why?"

"That's just it, I haven't heard a peep all day and I'm
getting concerned." Skinner growled, unawares that at that
time, Starkweather was still hidden underneath Kersh's
couch and Sam-in-Doggett and Scully were staking Ben out on
Reagan Street.

"Should I call them?" Now Mulder was worried, typical

Mulder, getting his boxers in a knot whenever it concerned
Scully.

A pause. "Not yet, but if you don't hear from them by at
least close of business today, I want to know." Skinner
hung up without saying goodbye.

Mulder, now really nervous, a trait he did not like in
himself, got up and started pacing. Just then his cell
rang. He dove for it. "Scully?"

"No, Deputy Mayor, it's me."

"Jerilyn?? What happened? Skinner's got his tightie-whities
in a bunch about you."

"Huh." Starkweather deadpanned. "I always pictured him as a
boxers man, myself. I tried calling him just now, but his
line was busy."

"What happened? Did you find anything in Kersh's office?"
"OH MAN!!" Starkweather exploded, sitting safely at her
tiny desk in the X-Files office. "You will NOT believe what

I just went through!"

Meanwhile
back to the future
QL HQ

Al told Doggett everything, about Sam's maiden leap, about
all the lives he's touched and changed, about his first
brush with the X-Files when he leaped into Agent Dana
Scully (Doggett snorted in disbelief at that one) and about
Sam's current mission. Doggett grew very quiet when Al
started adding up the death toll. He closed his eyes when
Al told him about Jerilyn's impending murder.

"Well?" Al asked.

"Well?" Doggett repeated. "It's a great story for
frightening little kids at bedtime, but what proof do you
have to offer me? I mean, as far as I can tell, this could
all be an elaborate, sick joke. I mean, so far, you've
offered me no proof that it's actually 2011?"

"I thought you'd say that," Al said. "So I brought you
this." He handed Doggett a police file.
Doggett flipped it open, then bolted out of his seat in
horror.

The police photographs fluttered down and Al tried not to
look at the graphic picture of Starkweather's murder. But,
just like rubbernecks on the freeway, looking back at a
gruesome accident, he couldn't help it.

In stark black and white, Starkweather, in a pool of her
own blood was laying on the floor of a Kum-n-Go, a bullet
wound in her forehead, her eyes wide and staring. Al
stooped down, gathered up the files contents and put them
on the table. "Before you say that picture was faked, you
know Starkweather, as morbid as her humor is, would NOT
fake something like that to play a joke on you." Al told an
ashen-faced Doggett. "She knows that would kill you and she
wouldn't hurt her friends like that. Her death certificate
is in there too, along with an autopsy report and newspaper
clippings."

Doggett gingerly took the picture again and tried to look
at it objectively, but couldn't. "This is suppose to
happen....?"

"Three days after Mulder gets killed," and Al held out
another folder for Doggett to look at.

The crime scene photographs for Mulder's murder were far
and away more disturbing that Starkweather's, for it showed
the bars of the prison cell where Mulder was being held for
Ben's murder completely torn away, as if they were tissue
paper. Blood was spattered all over the walls. Mulder's
body looked to be literally broken in half. His eyes, too
much like Starkweather's, were also wide open and staring
into the oblivion.

"Oh, God," Doggett said, flipping through the pictures.

"This is for real, then?" he felt his gut churning. "This
ain't a joke?"

"I wish it was and time is running short and we've got a
situation with our computer system that making it run
shorter-"

But Doggett wasn't listening, he was looking at a picture
of the assumed suspect of Mulder's death. "Oh my God... I
know that man..."

"What?" Al come over to Doggett's side to look at the still
from the prison video monitor system.

With a shaking finger, Doggett tapped the picture. "That's
Billy Miles."

"Who?"


Meanwhile, in the Present

Shock me," Mulder said dryly, going back to trying to get a
tack on the ceiling, "Shock me with your deviant behavior."

"Mulder--" she warned. "Get back to reality for two
seconds, please. Heads up, because this is big news."

"Whatchya got?"

"Well, dad's blowing into town."

"Thanks for letting me know...tell him I said hi."

"Guess who is wining and dining him when he gets here?"

"You and Ben?"

"No."

"Me and Scully?"

"Hell no."

"As fun as it is playing guessing games with you, just tell
me, please...I don't have time for guess who's coming to
dinner right now."

"Really, so that's why you asked for a dartboard to put in
your office for your birthday?"

"So who's having daddy to dinner?"

"Kersh."

"Any idea why the Deputy Director of the FBI is having a
meeting with an Admiral?"

"I have absolutely no clue."

"I wonder if it has anything to do with someone wanting me
86'ed and the trial coming up."

"Listen, Twilight Zone Poster Boy, quit being so paranoid.
Dad got you that job, remember?"

"You won't let me forget."

"He's not about to get you kicked outta that office faster
than he put you in it. I don't give a flying f*ck about
your ass, but I'll be d*mned if I let Doggett down. I'm
gonna do some digging around Dad's office to see if I can
find any solid proof at his place."

"Did you find anything in Kersh's office?"

"A copy of Roots, Hannibal, and Catching a Spider..."

"So he's taking some lessons from Hannibal Lecter, huh?
Wonder what he's going to Phoenix for. What was Kersh
doodling? Playing hangman by himself?"

"Some numbers...they looked like stockmarket jargon."
Starkweather said, and told him what the numbers were. She
had no clue what they meant.

"That's a helluva hangman score."

"No kidding. I overheard something you might wanna make
something of or not..."

"What's that? You making the watercooler gossip again?"
"Kinda...someone in Arizona tried to get me fired."

"Jiminy Christmas! Arizona? Oh, geez...Mulder...I think I'm
gonna be sick."

"Why's that?"

"I owe you an apology..."

"Jiminy Christmas?" Mulder scoffed, "What the h*ll is
that?"

"Fuck off."

"That's better."

"Mulder," Starkweather threatened, "if you tell ANYONE we
had this conversation, I will PERSONALLY make sure you are
permanently pissing through a tube faster than you can say
extraterrestrial."

"Duely noted..." Mulder gulped. "So, tell me...how did you
get a hold of this information?"

"Well, Skinner called Kersh out of his office, and I snuck
in."

"How did you sneak out? By slithering?"

"Pretty much." Starkweather admitted. "I hid under the
couch and waited till the two-faced rat-b*stard left."

"I think two-faced rat-b*stard is the chartered name for
the bad-guy club down there. How did you get past the
secretary?"

"We made an arrangement. She agreed to be silent. I agreed
to let her live."

"Sounds like you're learning the ropes pretty fast." Mulder
chuckled. "Well, Hurricane, you better let Skinner know
Kersh didn't have you for dinner."

"Oh, blow me."

"That's Ben job, isn't it?"

"That's a mature response coming from the Deputy Mayor of
Washington. It's a relief to know this city's in good
hands." Starkweather deadpanned.

"Oh, *blow me* is *REAL* mature."

"As much as I would love to continue the captivating debate
we're having, this little hurricane's gotta blow outta
here. I gotta do a little digging."

"Look, off the record, Starkweather, with your foster
mother...I was only looking for some answers. I almost lost
Scully to the same thing she died from, and my sister
disappeared when I was twelve. I was trying to find her,
and I stepped on lots of toes along the way...and, well..."

"I'll take that as an apology." Starkweather interrupted.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I had some digging to do. I
won't let anything happen to either Scully or Doggett, and
if that means keeping you around, then so be it. This whole
oil-rig deal is my fight just as much as it is yours,
whether we like it or not. Besides, after this deal, I
think I'm going to ask to be transferred into Quantico."

"Starkweather, when we first met, you said I was spineless
for not being my own person. All I've got to say about you
going to Quantico is, if the lab coat fits, wear it."

"Excuse me? I *EARNED* my place here. Being stuffed down
into your little crusade was NOT my choice *pal*. I was
assigned here!  What the fucking right do you think you
have going around shoving crap in my face like--"

"Before you go off on me, I didn't say you didn't earn your
place. I don't think we would've been able to have as many
leads on this case right now as we've got without you on
the team. All I'm saying, is if you go to Quantico, you are
leaving behind every opportunity you've ever had to be
honest with yourself and find the truth. I may be
spineless, but at least I'm not living a pretty lie."

"My pretty lie is all I have. You're spineless not because
you're Dad's puppet, but because you know the truth and do
nothing about it."

"What is that lie, Starkweather? A marriage going down the
drain? An adoptive father pulling strings under your nose
and pulling the wool over the world's eyes? You're a damn
good investigator, Starkweather. All I'm trying to say is,
maybe the lie isn't as good as the truth could be. I am not
in a position to do anything about the truth that's out
there right now, but you...are."

"Mulder, this isn't my crusade. If it *is* my crusade,"
Starkweather softened, hardly able to believe she was
pouring her heart out to someone she barely tolerated,
"then I have to fight against my father, and I don't think
I'm ready to do that."

"I know, Starkweather. Just think at least about staying on
with the x-files, ok? Keep me posted on what you find out
about the case, too."

"That's my job, Mulder. Getting my *ss kicked by E.T.'s,
sneaking around two-faced rat-b*st*rd lairs, and keeping
you posted." She said, and hung up.

"What bug got up *her* ass and died?" Mulder grumbled, and
barely had time to make one more attempt at getting a tack
stuck to the ceiling before the phone rang again.

"Mulder."
"It's me."

"What's going on Scully? Everything ok?"

"I'm not sure. I'm on Lincoln street and Doggett just
played half a game of Chinese fire drill."

"What?"

"He got out of the car, Mulder, and is now following Ben on
foot."

"What?! Why? Did he give you a reason."

"None whatsoever. Feels like the good old days when *you*
used to do the same thing."

"Guess who's coming to town?"

"Elvis. Mulder, I really don't have time for this."

"Go on, guess."

"Mulder, now is *not* the time to go back and forth. I'm
pulling into this warehouse."

"Kersh is taking Admiral Bailey to dinner right before our
trial."

"And this is important to us, how?"

"Admiral Bailey has a lot of influence over Kersh...he has
a lot of influence over a lot of people in very high
positions."

"What *OF* it, Mulder?"

"I overheard some watercooler gossip about someone in
Arizona needing me 86'ed again. Admiral Bailey is in
Arizona."

"Mulder, I think you're jumping conclusions again."

"I think Admiral Bailey has Kersh wrapped around his
finger."

"Starkweather?" Scully hissed, scooting down out of sight
under some hedges. "You think she's part of the deal?"

"I really don't think she's aware of exactly how powerful
her father is, and what's more, I think she earned her
place at the FBI. At any rate, be careful. Keep me posted
about what you find out."

As much as Sam loved catching up with Scully, he needed to
touch base with Al. Getting out of that truck was the only
way he could think of to get away from Scully without being
sent to a psych ward for talking to thin air.

"Al! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" Sam hollared as loudly as his lungs
could spare as he sprinted down Lincoln in the general
direction Ben's car was headed. It wasn't long before the
thin blue light of the door appeared and with the click and
sweep of the chamber door.

"The warehouse is a coupla blocks, Sam!" Al shouted after
him, "I'll meetchya there!"

"Al," Sam huffed, and doubled over from exhaustion. "I--uh-
-Ben--"

"Calm down, Sam. I got some good news and some bad news."

"Good news?"

"Doggett finally decided to trust us, and we finally have
the story on Mulder's murder."

"Bad news?"

"You're not gonna like this."

"It can't be worse than anything else that's happened
today. Out with it..."

"Ziggy's on the fritz still. We can't expell the virus
outta the system, so there's still a good chance that we'll
hafta shut down in a few hours."

"What do you know...today can get worse." Sam implored no
one in particular.

"That's not all."

"That's not all?!" Sam echoed. "What is this? Am I supposed
to jump into a whale, build an ark? Tell me!"

"The killer apparently is a super-human alien."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Sam demanded.

"You're supposed to stop Ben from getting killed. Which,
right now, don't look too easy considering he's about to go
into that warehouse."

"Jump ahead of me, and see what he's up to, I'm gonna wait
on Scully."

Without a word, the chamber door was open and Al was gone.

"Doggett," Scully said, running up from a behind a bush a
few seconds later, "For nine years now, I have been putting
up with this kinda crap from Mulder, and now, I'm putting
up with this from you. Do you have ANY idea of what my life
is like?"

"A better idea than you think, Scully." Sam said, going
inside.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Doggett!?" Scully
hissed, running after him.

They stopped short and crouched behind a couple of boxes.

"What's he doing here?" Sam hissed, keeping his gaze peeled
between Ben and the door.

"Isn't that what we're hear to find out?" Scully answered,
getting her gun out of her ankle holster.

"I'll check outside and see if anyone's on their way, Sam."
Al suggested, and popped out.

A few minutes later, almost instantly, the warehouse door
opened like a garage door, and a black sedan drove through.
With Ben out of sight, four men got out, one of whom was
Kersh, another of whom was the Mayor, and another of whom
was the Admiral.

"You won't listen to us then?" Kersh was saying. "He's the
laughing-stock of D.C. A c*cktail party joke...the stuff
late-night talk shows and political cartoons are made of."

"I don't think our agenda can be met with him here." A man
was saying, going to a box.

"I think you're wrong." The Mayor was saying, "A city
position such as his has no real power; he knows nothing of
our plans, and there is no reason why he has to be taken
through the ringer because of it! In all good
consciousness, I can't follow through with this."

"He is a threat to our existence, and a threat to my
daughter." Admiral Bailey was saying.

"How is who a threat to the little hurricane?!" Al
demanded. It was very theraputic being a hologram
sometimes, maddening at others.

"If you won't get him out of his office, we will eliminate
him another way."

"Admiral, I smell his brand of cigarettes." Kersh said.
"You--think he's here?"

"I--uh--wonder...he woudlnt' be caught dead in that white
dodge that was parked outside, that's for sure." The
Admiral said with a chuckle. "My son-in-law has a car like
that...had it in grad school."

"If Ben is around here, then he knows our plans."

"We haven't been specific enough, he hasn't heard anything
he can back up." The mayor began to protest.

"Exactly whose side are you on, Mr. Mayor?" Kersh demanded.

"The right one."

"For your sake, I hope so." Admiral Bailey replied. "It
would be awful if the Mayor had a heart attack in the
middle of his term at his granddaughter's birthday party."

"Speaking of which, hadn't you better be going?" Kersh
said, grinning like a snake. Three of the men then got in
the car. The man that they couldn't recognize went over to
one of the boxes, and got out a vile of grass-green liquid,
opened the driver's door, and the warehouse door opened
again, and drove off.

Lazily, Morris Nigcht, the security guard looked up from
the "Toughman Contest" he was watching on FX to check the
survelliance monitor that recorded the ins and outs of the
front doors to City Hall. All he saw were three goofy
looking guys from the cleaning crew that came every night
to pick up the messes the city employees so thoughtfully
left for them every night. "Weirdos," he mumbled as he
reached for his coffee and doughnuts and turned his
attention back to his television show.

Meanwhile, the Lone Gunmen, dressed in the garb of a
cleaning crew, armed with caddies of cleaning supplies that
they had no idea how to use and a giant trash barrel on
wheels, blithely walked right in and into the elevator.

"Damn, that was easy," Langly crooned when the elevator
door shut and they were safely on their way up to the
Mayor's office.

"Too easy," Frohike grumbled.

"What's got your coaxial cable in a knot?" Langly's nose
flared in irritation.

"Got a bad feelin'," was all that could be coaxed from
Frohike.

"Frohike," Byers nagged, "a few hours ago, you said that
this was going to be a cake walk."

"That was a few hours ago."

Byers and Langly looked at each other and shrugged.

The elevator doors whooshed opened and the intrepid boys
let themselves out. "Alright, where did Mulder say the
Mayor's haunt was?" Langly asked.

Byers pulled a map out of his cleaning uniform. "He said it
was two suites down from his office, on the left... so I
think it's this way."

Ten minutes later, the boys turned around and walked the
other way towards the Deputy Mayor's and Mayor's office.

"Damn narc," Frohike grumbled.

"Mulder must have meant HIS left," Byers tried to justify
himself.

"Hey, speaking of Mulder," Langly pointed to a heavy oak
door with the gold plaque reading "The Honorable Deputy
Mayor F. William Mulder" hanging on it. "HONORABLE?? Oh gag
me." Langly made retching noises. "I wonder if it's as
swank as he tells us it is..." A glimmer of mischief
glistened in the eyes behind the thick black glasses.

"Langly, no, we don't have tim-" Byers tried to protest,
but too late, Langly had already jimmied the lock.

All three stood in the doorway, gawping. "Whoa daddy," was
all that Langly could get out.

Like three alley cats sneaking into an upper class
townhouse, the boys tiptoed in, instantly sinking into the
luxuriously soft cream carpet. "Damn!" Langly threw himself
on the fawn colored leather sofa. "I think his new office
is nicer than his APARTMENT!" He looked up. "What's up with
all the tacks in the ceiling?"

Byers meanwhile, had made a beeline for Mulder's exspansive
desk. "Guys, this is solid cherry!" he exclaimed. "I think
it's an antique!"

"Who cares?" Frohike was getting nervous.

"Yeah, you nerd," Langly rebuffed him. "No one gives a
crap. Speaking of crap, I wonder if he's got his own
crapper in this high-fa-lootin' joint?"

"No, that priviledge is reserved for those with real
power."

Mulder's trademark monotone made all the boys jump up in
alarm. "Mulder, what the hell?" Langly said. "Thought you
said that you're goin' to Scully's?"

"I will be, as soon as my cab gets here," Mulder examined
the doorknob. "I've got to invest in better locks."

"A cab? Why? Car in the shop?" Frohike asked.

"Well, it's probably in a shop of some sorts, being
dismantled and sold for hot parts all over the Continental
US. My car was stolen this afternoon."

"Man, that sucks," Langly said, now sniffing around the
candy jar sitting on the end-table next to the sofa.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious.. hey, get out of there!"
Langly, pouting, put the lid back on the jar. "There's
nothin' but freakin' sunflower seeds in there."

"Don't you guys have some breaking and entering to do?"
Mulder reminded them of their mission to infiltrate the
Mayor's office.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Langly unwillingly got off of the sofa.
"Nice place you got here, Mr. Honorable Deputy Mayor, sir."

"Thanks. Now," Mulder said, ushering the Lone Gunmen out,
"if you're really REALLY good, I'll show you the wet bar
they put in here for me."

"You've got a BAR in here!" Langly goggled while Frohike
and Byers stared in wonder.

Mulder slammed the door in their faces.

"God damn," Frohike said. "What bug crawled up his ass and
died?"

Mulder flung himself onto the sofa and threw his arm over
his eyes. Truth to be told, he, again, wasn't feeling well.
He could feel the army of the migranes mustering at the
tail of his spine and begin their march up to his skull.

"Goddamn it!!" He cursed aloud. "Not now, not now!!!" He
was about to get up and fix himself a very substantial
adult beverage from his very own private bar when his cell
phone rang. "Mulder."

"Mr. Mulder? This is the Yellow Cab Company. We're right
outside."

"Thank you," Mulder switched his phone off, pulled on his
suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase and went downstairs
to his waiting cab and home to a hopefully waiting good
Doctor Scully, who is the cure for all that ailed him... he
hoped.

Washington D.C.; Lincoln Street Warehouse
4:57 PM
*******************************************
Ben crouched waiting behind one of the crates as the men
left. He couldn't figure it all out. Was the vile some sort
of chemical toxin? Surely it wasn't related to his
trial...the Admiral CERTAINLY couldn't be in on what was
happening in the oil company. He knew that the Admiral had
pulled some strings to get him the new job at the law firm,
but beyond that, he didn't think that the Admiral was at
all involved with his job--he certainly wasn't going to let
his father-in-law interfere with justice. These guys were
going to pay for what they did, and he was going to be the
one to pull the wool off over their eyes. He knew that
whatever the vile was, it was something that he would have
to look in on after he blew this case out of the water.
But, first things first, before he saved the world, he
needed to save his marriage. He took out a well-worn
velvet-covered box, and procured an antique locket, held
the picture up to it, and with scissors that came with his
swiss army knife, cut the picture to fit, and snapped it
shut and put the box in the paper bag holding the picture,
and left.

Sam and Scully crouched behind the rows of boxes close to
the door, and silently scooted out of view as Ben left.
Scully had parked behind a building across the street, and
Al, Scully and Sam gratefully left.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Sam mused allowed as he
got into the truck. Al popped in between he and Scully,
trying his best to look like he was actually sitting,
causing Sam to nearly jump out of his skin and make the car
swerve.

"It sure wasn't a Shriner's club meeting." Al grumbled.
"I dunno..." Then Scully's eyes widened as she got a
horrible thought. "Oh God! What if they were talking about
Mulder?"

"They were definately talking about Ben, that's for sure."
Al interjected as though Scully could hear him.

"I wonder what that vile was. Could you tell?"

"How the hell should I know?" Scully snapped.

"It looked like green kool-aid to me." Al said at the same
time Scully snapped. "I wonder how Ben found out they would
be there."

"Who knows." Sam said, forgetting that Scully couldn't hear
Al's half.

"You ok Doggett?"

"Who knows." Sam said dryly, and then realizing his fumble,
stammered, "Who knows...how Ben found out those guys would
be there."

"You think Jerilyn tipped him off without her knowing it?"
Al wondered.

"It was World War Three in their apartment for the past
couple of days, Jerilyn wouldn't let him near any of what
she was working on, I'm sure of it."

"How do you think he got a hold of that information, then?"
Scully demanded.

"Maybe they were feeding the little worm some bait." Al
theorized.

"You really think so?" Sam asked, again forgetting about
Scully.

"I have no idea." Scully answered, and then whipped out her
cell phone. "Skinner? It's Scully, hey, listen..."yeah,
we're alright. Did you and Starkweather make out ok?...We
followed Ben to the warehouse on Lincoln Street, and Kersh,
The Admiral, The Mayor of D.C., and somebody we didn't
recognize all pulled into the warehouse and got this
vile...we have no idea...we don't know the answer to that
one, either...we've still got a lot of work to do before we
know that...yes sir...I'll keep you posted." Scully hung up
and sighed heavily. "Doggett...we've been working on this
ever since it exploded ont our laps, and where has it
gotten us? Absolutely nowhere...I don't think I'm helping
you or Mulder any more than Will is."

"Sure you are," Sam tried to encourage. "We just need a
little more time to gather proof, is all. I tell you what,
I'll take you back to the Bureau, and we can call it a
night, and you me and Starkweather can pull our heads
together over this tomorrow at work."

"Thanks, Doggett...that's the best idea anyone's come up
with for the past few days."

"You know Scully," Sam began, "You know how I read through
all those files..."

"Yeah?" Scully nodded.

"There's one thing I gotta know."

"What's that?"

"When you were in Antarctica, how DID you guys get back
from that spaceship?"

"Just drive." She said flatly. Sam and Scully rode in
silence the rest of the way, and Al went back through the
chamber door to check on the progress being made on Ziggy.

An hour later that afternoon
****************************
Ben made his way back to his plush office, no closer to a
garaunteed win for his case than he was earlier. There was
nothing conclusive in that meeting except that someone
wanted someone else fired, or worse. Those people had
access to a box in that warehouse with a vile. If there was
someway he could get a hold of that vile, then maybe he
could win that case. The only easiest way he could get the
vile, it seemed, was through his father-in-law.

But what was it? What could possibly be in that vile that
four undoubtedly powerful men wanted? It certainly coudln't
be liquidated green jell-o. Maybe toxin? Some heightened
synthetic chlorophyll for crops? Regardless, it was a crime
against the government, and it had to be uncovered,
regardless of who was involved. This might be a bit tricky
considering one of the possible people he would be fighting
against pulled strings to get his new position at one of
the top lawfirms. The Admiral had opened some doors, and he
couldn't just turn him away like that...but by the same
token, he couldn't turn down a fight, either.

"Mr. Starkweather," his secretary chirpped, poking her head
in the door. "This came for you while you were gone. I
don't know who brought it. The mailboy brought it up."

"Thanks." Ben said absently, taking the envelope as though
it were something his parents wouldn't let him touch. He
took the envelope, and noticed that it was a plain,
grocery-store .99 special variety that was unmarked; only
his name and lawfirm address were written on the front.
Inside was a typed message written in Times New Roman font,
size twelve, all caps

IF YOU WANT TO WIN THE CASE, COME TO THE LINCOLN STREET
LAWFIRM AT 4:30 AM, ALONE AND ARMED WITH NOTHING BUT YOUR
WITS--A FRIEND INSIDE.

He crumpled the peice of paper up, and threw it in the
wastebasket, started to surf the net on insectisides to see
if it would lead to any answers as to what that vile was,
and soon, his curiosity got the better of him.

Everything was riding on this deposition coming up; but his
marriage was riding on tonight. If he screwed up again, it
would be world war four. On the other hand, he
rationalized, if I win this case, the x-files would be
closed, and Agent Jerilyn would be Mrs. Starkweather again.

"Well, if world war four explodes in our apartment tonight,
I hope she doesn't know how to operate an atom bomb."

Ben closed the laptop, and left the office, heading for the
flowershop. If he wanted everything to be right again
tonight, he would have to eat crow for supper. For a year.

Or as long as Jerilyn was willing to put up a fight for
their marriage. Whichever came first.

He hoped the year.
***********************************************************
meanwhile...
J. Edgar Hoover Building
************************
Sam and Scully left from the Lincoln Street Warehouse
almost as clueless as they had came in. The only thing Sam
knew for sure was that he hadn't changed history yet. At
least he had the future suspects narrowed down. If he could
somehow get him away from them; to get Jerilyn to protect
him somehow, he would be home free. Experience told him it
wouldn't be that easy.

They came into the x-files office to find Jerilyn busily
digging in research. "You guys find anything?"

"I found out how to unbuckle my seatbelt and change seats
during the time it takes for a light to change." She shot a
glare at Sam. "If you do ANYTHING like that to me again
I'll--" Scully started, but Sam wouldn't let her finish.

"I gotta go to the restroom." For once in his life, it
wasn't just an excuse.

"I don't think he's playing with a full deck today,
Starkweather."

Scully said, getting her laptop and briefcase gathered.

"Well, you'd be a basketcase too," She justified, and
gestured to Mulder's desk. "If you hadda spend the night
with the Addams Family reject, Barbie boy, JFK Wannabe, and
Greasey poney tail quasi-modo. Look, Scully...earlier, I
put you between me and the Deputy Mayor, and that wasn't
fair of me."

"I'll take that as an apology, Starkweather. Hope you and
Ben patch things up tonight."

"We will...you were right about Mulder. His heart is in the
right place, after all. Along with a couple
of...other...pertinent muscles." Scully couldn't help but
blush like a school girl at that comment.

"We found out something you might wanna know,
Starkweather." Sam said, making his entrance and shot a
permissive look directed at Scully. "Someone close the FBI
has a lot of influence on a lot of people."

"Any idea who?" She asked.

"We're getting close, Starkweather."

"What did you find?" Scully pressed, eager to change the
subject.

"Chicken scratch on a legal pad. It looked like doodling at
first, but I looked closer, and it was stock-market
numbers. I did some research, and the stock-market is
linked directly to that oil rig in the Gulf, and this same
company merged with several other oil rigs--including one
in Arizona and in Scottland."

"We know someone's paying Kersh to keep silent. All we need
to do now is figure out who, or which organization, or
what." Scully said, making a bee-line for the door. "I've
gotta go relieve Agent Reyes of Will.

"At least today we got a good start on a lead. It's not
solid, but it's a lead."

Starkweather looked nervously down at her desk, and then
across at the both of them, as if in debate. She sighed
heavily in concluding solo arguements. "I'm going to do
some investigating when dad comes to visit. It's the only
way we can find any answers to this thing."

"I appreciate your help, Starkweather, but the answers may
not be what you want to hear." Scully warned.

"Neither are the Backstreet Boys." Starkweather replied
with a scared smile. "But if that's what it takes to get
you two outta this, then I'll do it. See you guys
tomorrow." She said heading out the door.

Later that night...
Ben and Jerilyn's apartment

Ben tenitively opened the door to his apartment. He heard Kid
Rock blaring out of the stereo: "Yeah, I'm a COW - Boy
bay--bee..." He closed his eyes. Hard rock, bad sign. He
sighed and went towards the bedroom.

His wife hadn't noticed him. The bedroom was in disarray,
piles of clothes separated by color and fabric all over.
Because they didn't have an ironing board, Jerilyn had
spread a towel on their dresser and was pressing a pair
of Ben's khakis. Ben grinned to himself. One of the perks
of having an ex-military person for a spouse was their
anal-retentive attention to details. Jerilyn had a lot of
practice in creating shipshape creases, having done ironing
not just for her uniforms, but for her father when he was
still active in the Navy.

Ben leaned against the doorframe. "Hi."

He received a withering look and a curt "Hi," in return.

"Have you drawn up divorce papers yet?" he said jokingly.

"Don't tempt me Counselor," she replied, but the name
"Counselor" was a good sign, it was her pet name for
him. Jerilyn had pet names for just about everyone, friends
and enemies. "Monkey boy" for Byers and "Papa John" for Doggett
were just two examples of her nick name fanaticism. She was
still struggling for an appropriate nick name for Mulder but
asshole was still in the running.

"Jeri," he sighed, but stuck to his resolution to eat crow.
"Baby, can we... can we... could we start over?"

"Ben, we've started over so many times...."

"Well, three-thousand and one's the charm," he smiled
and approached her, taking the hot iron out of her hands
and took her in his arms. "Jeri, we don't have to agree,
okay, I know you think I'm insane for what I'm doing...
but on the flip side, I think you're insane for what
you're doing too..."

"Is this your sad attempt at an apology?" but she was
smiling when she said that.

Caesar the cat wound himself around their legs...
****************************************************************
Meanwhile...
Scully's apartment
Georgetown

"Thanks Reyes for all your help," Scully said,
holding Will as she walked Monica Reyes to the door.
Reyes, still recovering from her unfortunate mishap from
falling from a ladder, limped to the door. "Hopefully I'll
be back in business in a month," she said with her
trademark serene smile. "I didn't realize butts took so
long to heal." She had broken her tailbone in the fall,
putting her out of action for the most post.

"Well, can't wait to have you back, have a good night,"
Scully wished her well as she shut the door quietly.

After she put William to bed, she had just settled down in
her chair when she heard Mulder's key in her door. He
staggered in and collapsed on her couch, rubbing his
temples.

"Mulder, what's the matter?"

"Bad headache, got any Valium?"

"How would Valium cure a headache?" Scully huffed,
irritated as usual at how poorly Mulder always took care of
himself.

"It would make me completely numb to the world," he closed
his eyes as Scully came over. She sat down beside him and
touched his forehead. "No fever, which is a good sign, but
Mulder, you can't let yourself get run down, not now."

"I know, I know..." Mulder tried to wave her concern off,
but Dr. Scully wouldn't allow it.

"No you don't Mulder," she began sternly.

"Scully," he opened his eyes and started to give her the
puppy-dog eyes. "I'm just tired. It's just a headache. I've
just had a bad day..."

Scully took his hand. "Tell me."

Mulder sighed. "Someone is trying to get me fired at City
Hall...."

"... and to top it all off," Mulder rubbed his eyes again
wearily. "My car got stolen."

"Oh God, Mulder, did you call-"

"The police," Mulder finished her question for her, "yes I
did. I told them the make and the model and the plate
numbers. I told them the color and what the bumper sticker
said. I told them where I usually park it, underneath the
big sign that says "Parking for the Deputy Mayor Only, All
Others Will Be Towed." I told them the last approximate
time I saw my car. They thanked me for all the information
I provided and told me that they'd get right on it...
before they started to laugh hysterically, of course."
Mulder looked up at her and deadpanned. "And how was your
day, Pookie?"

"Pookie?" she asked flatly.

Just then, the baby started to cry in the other room.
Mulder's face crumpled in pain as the wails became
piercing. Scully, more concerned for William than Mulder,
naturally, bolted up, but Mulder grabbed her wrist. "I'll
go, haven't seen the slugger all day, except for this
morning," and with a sigh, he heaved himself off the couch
and down towards Scully's bedroom.

Which was a good thing because just then, Maggie Scully had
decided to give her daughter a phone call and was in the
mood for a nice long cozy chat. An entire hour had passed
before Scully could finally draw the phone call to an end.
"Alright, I'll talk to you soon, I love you Mom... ok
Mom... Yes Mom... okay, I'll talk to you soon.... I love
you too... yes Mom, I'll tell him... okay... yeah Mom... I
love you...I'll talk to you soon... okay, Mom... love
you... BYE!" She hung up the phone with a bemused smile.
Every since Scully had the baby, Maggie had rung up her
long distance bill, calling with maternal hints and
suggestions.

Scully then noticed how quiet it was. She padded down her
hallway, feeling some of that leftover fear that she felt
when Krycek, may God rot his lying soul, told her that her
baby was "special" and that "they" were coming for it.
The door was partially closed. Only a sliver of light from
the baby's teddy bear shaped night light shone out. Scully
felt her heart pounding. Slowly, FBI slowly, she pushed
open the door. "Mul-" she started to say, but stopped.
Back to her, Mulder was holding William, standing in front
of the window. Sillouetted by the street lights, Mulder was
making a valiant effort to sing... effort being the key
word. "Hey diddle diddle put your kitty in the middle and
swing like you didn't care," he crooned, softly, gently and
completely out of tune, "so I took a big chance at the high
school dance with a missy who was ready to play and...
um.... la la la la... la... um... don't know the words to
this part but...I knew that love was here to stay when she
told me to walk this way, talk this way, walk this way,
talk this way," he happened to turn around to see Scully
standing there. He grinned and sang "Just give me a little
kiss..."

Scully went to him and looked up at him with her baby.

"You're singing Aerosmith to MY child?" she crossed her
arms.

"Sure, they're a classic," Mulder said, at his most
maddening, shifting Will to one arm so he could use his
other arm to pull Scully to him. "I started to listen to
them when I was a kid, so I figured," Mulder shrugged. "Why
not?"

"Mulder," she said, wriggling enough to put her arms on top
of his to draw him and her baby closer. "That boy is going
to need years of therapy if you don't..."

"Don't what?" Mulder kissed her forehead, then kissed the
top of the baby's head.

"I thought you had a headache?"

"It's going away," Mulder said, resting his head on top of
Scully's. "I could stay this way forever, Scully, do you
know that?" as he enveloped her and her son in his strong
arms. He gently started to sway, as if they were slow-
dancing at a junior high dance.

Scully felt her eyes welling up. As she looked up to tell
him how touched she was by his sentiments, he began to sing
again. "Swwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet
emoooooooooooooooooooooootion.....
Swwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet
emoooooooooooooooooooooootion..... talk about things that
nobody cares.... wearing our things that nobody wears,
somebody's calling me but I gotta make clear, can't say
maybe where I'll be in a year..."

Scully groaned, but then smiled. He wouldn't be Mulder if
he couldn't take a perfectly wonderful, sweet moment... and
ruin it completely.

After Mulder had called the police, the Gunmen made their
way down the hall and to the Mayor's office, which,
unfortunately was locked.

Frohike turned to Langly.

"Got a bobby pin?"

"What the hell makes you think I've got a bobby pin?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot, you don't even brush your hair. Byers,
gimme your credit card. I gotta crack this lock somehow."

"Frohickey, I refuse to give you my credit card."

"Aw, come on, Virgin Monkey Boy. I promise I won't get the
number off of it to buy pornos on the internet this time."

"That's what you said last time."

"Byers...you need serious help, man." Langly nasalled.

"Look, I'll pay you back." Frohike persisted.

"That's what you said last time."

"I'll let you borrow them."

"That's what you said last time."

"Dammit, Byers, where's your sense of adventure!"

"It went out the window the moment you called me Virgin
Monkey Boy. I am NOT having a good day."

"Byers, dude, this is a cakewalk. We'll be in and outta
here in a jiffy."

"Why is it on cakewalks we always tend to slip on the
icing?"

"Wow, it's good to know our tax money is being well-spent
on swanky offices." Frohike grumbled as he opened the newly
jimmied door.

"Geeez...this office is nicer than *Scully's* apartment."
Langly said, oogling at the bar.

"Langly, get your ass over hear, we're gonna start on his
email."

"Awww, man!"

"If you're good, we'll letchya have some of the mayor's
candy."

"Oh goodie." Langly said dryly. "Let's see what we got
here." He turned on the computer; Frohike kept lookout at
the window just in case, and shut the blinds. Byers kept
his look-out post near the door. "Hmmm...nothing much
here...internet porn...birthday cards to his
granddaughter...Hello! Score one for Barbie Boy!" Langley
said triumphantly.

"Whatchya got?"

"Looks like someone's jumping down the mayor's throat."
Langly answered, busily keying in data, "He's got a couple
of threatening emails. The addy is leolaw@juno.net. If we
can figure out who that is, we might be able to get a lock
on who's trying to get Mulder fired."

"Do your stuff, Langly."

"It's what I live for Frohickey. Here we go...but this
guy's good...I don't' have an I.D. on him. I can't trace
it."

"Guys?" Frohike said, not really paying attention to what
Langley was saying. He was nervously peering out the
window.

"What, Fro?"

"The mayor's coming up the walk. I think we better move."

"Shit! What's he doing back here?!"

"Maybe he's come back to look at some of this internet
porn." Langley suggested.

"Shut up Langly." The two chorused in unison. They shut
the computer off, and gingerly relocked the door.

"We're cooked." Frohike said in his trademark grumble.

"Guys, we're cleaning dudes..."

"What do you suggest, Langley," Byers said, heading for the
doors, "Sweeping the Mayor out? Maybe knocking the mayor
unconscious with window-cleaner fumes?"

"Not a bad idea." Frohike approved.

"I suggest we clean." Langley continued, turning off the
computer. "Who knows, we may find somethin' out. I mean,
hell...a man running with the bad guys gotta have something
to hide."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Blondie's got a point,
Virgin Monkey Boy." Frohike deadpanned.

"Don't call me that!" Byers and Langley both shouted in
unison.

Byers, Langly, and Frohike all scampered across the hall,
like three little kids who were trying not to get caught by
parents.

"Shit! I forgot to lock the door!" Langley panicked.

"Oh hell." Was all Frohike said.

"If he goes near the computer, we're dead." Byers said in
his trademark matter-of-factness. "It's still warm."

Langley, trying too hard to look like he was supposed to be
there, sang barely recognizable as melody under his breath

"Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan, no
need to be coy Roy, just drop the key, Lee, and get
yourself free."

"Shut up!" Byers and Frohike hissed in unison, because just
then, the mayor was coming up the walk. Langley just barely
locked the door in time, and had scooted around the corner
out of sight seconds after the Mayor came in the door to
City Hall, fortunately for the three cleaning guys, leaving
the door open.

"Look at that." Byers whispered, trying not to look like
Langley was someone he knew.

"Wonder what he's got there?" Frohike mumbled under his
breath, as he watched the Mayor put the vile in a small
pocket-sized metal box and locked it. They all watched as
he picked up the phone.

"I got it here, and I am keeping it with me. I will not be
threatened anymore. Leo, you keep threatening me this
morning, and you got the vile for them. You should be more
careful where you put things, next time. We started this
because we thought it was the only way. Because it was
either us or him or us or them. They haven't found proof of
anything yet, and I don't think that they will. I don't see
any reason for illuminating him, or anyone for that matter;
if you do, you can threaten me all you want, you can
blackmail me all you want, but it will only keep you from
preserving what we originally started fighting for. If they
follow through with the plans tonight, this is where we
part company."

They waited till the Mayor turned out the lights and locked
the door with the metal box containing the vile in his
hand, and then made their way down the hall.

"Maybe Leo's a codename." Frohike suggested.

"I thought Frohike was a codename at first." Langly said,
starting the van.

"Shut up and drive, Blondie." Frohike grumbled.

"Whatever, Frohickey." Langley said, and put Queen in the
tape player.


Meanwhile
Ben and Jeri's apartment
Washington DC

Ben cupped his wife's face in his hand and smiled into the
dark pools of her eyes... strange hazel eyes, switching
colors with her mood from green to gold to brown to all
three colors swirled together and back again. Never the
same color twice. "Jeri, even though I think you're wrong,
I don't have the right to hurt your feelings." He watched
her pretty eyes look away, then look down. "Hey," he said,
using his other hand to stroke her cheek. "I know you hate
sap and mush, but I mean it. I'm sorry Jeri. Maybe we'll be
on the other side of the fence for right now, but I still
need you. I don't have to be such a d*ck because you don't
agree with me. We'll go our separate ways on this, but
since we are fighting for the same thing, we'll meet in the
middle eventually. We always do. Plus I'll work hard if you
promise to do the same to keep our professional lives
professional and not let it mess with our personal lives."
Jerilyn, still afraid for his safety, could not argue with
his logic. He had a job to do. So did she. "Okay."
He took a deep breath. "And... about Doggett..."
Quicksilver, she back up from him, her face puckering up
into the most disagreeable expression of anger he had seen
in a while. "Oh, here we go..." she snapped.

"No, we don't," Ben took her hands. "I meant to say is...
I'm..." <<really wanting to believe you don't have feelings
for him>> he silently begged her while he said "I'm just
jealous that he gets to see you more than I do, that's
all."

Jerilyn sighed. "But Ben, that's how it was with my last
partner too and you were never jealous of him."

"Honey, that's because he hated you. I had no worries about
him moving in on my territory," Ben teased, stepping
closer.

"Oh Gawd." Jeri began to let down her guard. "Thanks a lot.
Should I go up to my boss tomorrow and say 'Assistant
Director, my husband is bitter that me and my partner get
along so could you rustle up a real low life, double-
crossing bad-smelling male chauvinist pig partner like I
had in Minneapolis and assign him to me instead. Thanks,
Ben will appreciate it.'" Now she teased, stepping closer
to him, fingers playing with the buttons of his perfectly
starched white dress shirt.

"There you go," Ben began to pick hairpins out of Jeri's
severe bun. "You're catching on to the whole subservient
wife thing pretty quickl- oof!!" His "subservient wife" had
just sucker punched him in the solar plexus. "Not fair."

"No, 'not fair' would be below the belt," Jerilyn said with
a naughty smile as she fussed with his belt buckle. "And
don't get your boxers in a truss about Doggett, ok? He's a
good guy."

"Okay," Ben said, "but forgive me if I act like a preening
male ass sometimes. Especially when it comes to Doggett."
He resumed picking hairpins out of her thick luxurious
hair. When it tumbled down, he ran his fingers through,
marveling how silky it felt in between his paper-cut
fingers. "'Cause, like it or not, big bad FBI broad, he
does get to see you more than I do," he admitted quietly.
Now Jerilyn was focusing on undoing his tie. Slowly she
unknotted it and slid it off of him. "He doesn't get to see
EVERYTHING, husband dear," she stood on tiptoes and nibbled
provocatively on his neck.

With a groan, he ripped the covers of the unmade bed off
and crossed over to shut the blinds. He then scooped

Jerilyn up and tossed her on the bed. Laughing, Jerilyn sat
up on her elbows. "Is this your idea of for*play, Mr.
Starkweather," she giggled as she threw her long thick hair
over her shoulder over-dramatically.

Ben slid on top of her and kissed her into submission. "No,
Mrs. Starkweather," he said throatily as he began to work
on the buttons of her blouse, "this is..."

He figured he could give her the locket later... much much
later... and with that decision made, he went to work on
the very serious job of re-consummating their marriage.

meanwhile, Doggett Residence
*******************************
Sam's mind was reeling. He was at the point in exhaustion
where reality became surreal, but he couldn't sleep. If he
couldn't figure out a way to stop Ben's death, in,
according to Al, less than twelve hours, he was powerless
to stop every grim prediction Ziggy made. He held on to the
faint hope that all the disaster was part of the virus that
entered her system, but something told him that wasn't the
case.

So far, a night digging around on-line and a day chasing
after Mr. Starkweather had left him empty-handed.

"You're taking the expression 'the weight of the world on
your shoulders' a bit too seriously, kid. You did what you
could today." Al said out of nowhere.

"Al, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry, Sam. I'll wear a little bell on my neck next time."
Sam only glowered at him. "You can't hit me, I'm a
hologram! Unless you want to swing at thin air."

"How's Ziggy?" Sam chastised himself for taking his anger
out on Al.

"We're working on her. Goushie's close to getting the virus
purged from her system. For now, shut-down looks
probable...but so far, it looks like we won't have to shut
her down till the wee small hours. What could happen at
2am?"

"Ben could be murdered, the world could end..."

"...and the sky could fall. Sam, you have got to get a hold
of yourself. It won't do anyone any good for you to panic.
We've got it under control the best we can. We're running
our back-ups to see what that vile was all about, but we
got nothing so far."

"Well, do what you can."

"Don't I always? I'm trying to find out what I can from
Doggett."

"That's great! How did you manage that?"

"You're not gonna like this, Sam."

"Al...*please* tell me you didn't break the rules..."

"I *had* to, Sam. I showed him the police reports, and it
was the only way I could get him to 'fess up and believe
me. God...I didn't see the reports myself until just before
I hadda show them to Doggett. No *human* could have done
that to Mulder."

"Who is the suspect?"

"They have a picture of a man named William Miles. But no
HUMAN has that kinda brute strength to tear apart metal
bars the way that police photo shows, Sam. They were torn
apart like damn paper. Mulder's body was pretty much torn
in *half*."

"Al, they have solid evidence that shows a *man* committed
his murder. Sometimes adrenaline gives you heightened
strength. You and I know that better than anybody."

"Doggett says this guy's an E.T. By the looks of what he
did in that jail cell...going to do...he's on a helluva lot
of steroids."

"He's a man...just like you and me."

"I don't think I have the ability to break a guy in half,
Sam. Neither do you and you damn well know it."

"I still can't believe he's alien, but I have a hunch that
the vile is related to Ben's death, and if Ben's death is
related to Mulder's and everyone else's, then if we can
figure out what's in that vile, we've got a lead."

"Even so, Sam, we have no way of knowing where that vile
is. The best way to stop the world from going kablooey is
stopping Ben's murder."

"The guy hates me. He thinks I'm after his wife. I don't
think he's wanna spend quality time with me a few days
before his biggest case. Besides, if Jerilyn takes the
peace offering he got him today, I don't think I'll need to
keep him out of harm's way. But if that worked...why am I
still here?"

Al whipped out the blinking console "Could be just Ziggy's
virus acting up. Uh-oh...no...Sam...sorry kid...he's still
killed tonight."

Church Falls
Residence of Justin Leo
************************
In his 33 years, Justin Leo had never in his life had such
a long week. In dire need of a stiff drink, he went over to
his personal bar and poured himself a tall double-strength
martini. Yes, he desperately needed to be numb.

His life had always been lived quite placidly, always
keeping at the tip of consciousness what had happened that
summer night years ago to Lilly Stanford...Lilly Stanford
Leo he always added. He would never forgive himself for
letting her be taken.

Until two months ago when he was approached by an Admiral
from Arizona to protect certain interests. The Deputy
Director was always vague as to what these interests were,
but he was fairly certain early in their association that
these interests involved some sort of cover-up. As the
weeks increased, the money increased, and the errands
increased. He became the group's Fall Guy of sorts,
tampering with papers, tapering with bank account records,
delivering messages that were all done under the command of
a man who smoked Morley cigarettes. Justin Leo never knew
his name, but somehow knew that his associates' latest
target, the Deputy Mayor, porbably knew more about him than
he should have. The greater part of this morning was spent
telling the Mayor why his new man shouldn't be allowed to
live. The Mayor couldn't agree with his arguments.

The most bizarre thing he did for these four gentlemen was
his most recent task. He drove with all but the man who
smoked Morleys and took out a tube of green vile in a
warehouse on a shady side of town. He had no idea what the
vile was, or what it was for. He was only aware that it was
needed, and that he was the one who was going to retrieve
it for him. If it meant finding Lilly Stanford then it was
all worth it. It was worth everything.

It had never gone this far before. Leo--law-abiding, law-
practicing, forthright Justin Leo--had never thought he was
someone capable of murder. The very idea of killing someone
in cold blood sickened him. He couldn't be involved
anymore, but if ending a life led him to Lilly, then he
would do it. The target would sacrifice his life for hers.

Yes, Lily was worth another life. He had been too
spineless to do anything about her abduction as he watched
her go up into the blue light. Now, he would show her that
he was capable of taking good care of her.

He loaded a clipper with a round of shells, and in the
dark, eerie light of the TV set, let his mind play back the
spark that begun when he first saw Lilly's hazel eyes.

Ben and Jeri's apartment
Straight up midnight

Spooning his wife's body, Ben absently stroked Jerilyn's
sleeping form, his hand gently caressing the hollows of her
flat tummy. Even though he loved Jerilyn's incredible
intellect, her steadfast loyalty and her passionate heart,
his male ego couldn't help but crow that his wife was
strutting around in a world-class body. Hard in the right
places, soft in the right places.

Not that Ben was a slouch in the physique department
either. Although he didn't work out as vigorously as he had
while he was still in the Air National Guard, where he met
Jerilyn, he still hit the gym three times a week and every
summer was signed up for some sporting league. Still, he
managed to cut a dashing figure in his suits and he was
proud that he still had fairly hard calf muscles, a toned
chest and a nice flat belly.

Speaking of bellies, Ben became acutely aware of the
gnawing emptiness of his. He had been in such a rush home
to mend fences with Jerilyn that he hadn't stopped anywhere
for a bite to eat and well, once things started to rock and
roll with Jerilyn, he really hadn't thought about food
until now.

Rolling away from Jerilyn, he reached down for his boxers.
By the light shining from the hallway, he saw that the cat
had them, chewing on the waistband in the doorway.

"You damn cat," he muttered as he rolled off the bed and
walked towards the cat. Caesar, thinking that his master
wanted to play, bounced away, shorts in mouth.

"Fucking cat!" Ben hissed under his breath and followed
him.

Jerilyn, who he thought was sleeping, smiled.
Bare-assed nekkid, Ben chased the cat around his living
room for a good fifteen minutes before he was able to
retrieve his shorts, and only after a good fight at that.
When Ben finally slipped on his hard-won boxers, he could
have sworn the cat was scowling at him. "Hey, don't get
pissed off at me, it was HER idea to get you neutered, not
mine."

Caesar skulked off to hide under the couch.
Now clothed, Ben went into the kitchen. He opened the
refrigerator to find a carton of expired milk, half a case
of Bud Light and a couple of boxes of Chinese take-out.

"Okay, mental memo to self, must buy groceries sometime in
the immediate future," he said to himself. He then went to
the freezer. A little better luck there, there was two
Totino pepperoni pizza and a full container of Ben and
Jerry's Phishfood. Ben shook his head as he remembered the
razzing that he received when it first got out that he was
dating her. "Ben and Jeri huh? Are you gonna name your kids
Chunky Monkey and Cherry Garcia?"

Too unambitious to fire up the oven for pizza, he grabbed
the ice cream and a spoon and wandered out to the living
room. Another trait in Jerilyn that he found attractive was
that they were both night owls, though how she managed to
drag her ass out of bed at five-fifteen almost every
morning for a run was beyond him.

He sat down on the couch, found his cigarettes and lighter,
lit up and thumbed through the mail. Bills, bills, more
bills and today's newspaper. On the front page, bottom
corner left was a dorky picture of the Mayor and his Deputy
Mayor at some ribbon cutting. Ben shook his head and tossed
the paper down on the coffee table.

Perhaps triggered by the "Ben and Jerry" memory, Ben
reached for the photo album on the coffee table. He was an
amateur photographer. For Christmas two years ago, Jeri had
bought him a nice used old school Minolta manual camera,
which he loved. Finishing his smoke, he began to eat the
ice-cream and flipped through the album, which started with
beer parties pictures from law school, then some bar
pictures with his old friends at the Des Moines Air
National Guard unit. Then A LOT of pictures of Jerilyn when
they first started dating. He smiled as he got to the
sequence of pictures when he first took her home to
Minnesota to meet his family. He remember that week up at
his parents' summer home on the lake. After that week, he
was convinced he was going to marry her.

He paused briefly at his favorite picture of her, the one
he had made of copy of and had framed at his office. He had
snapped her picture completely unaware. He and his father
were cruising by in his dad's boat while she was sunning
herself on dock, face tilted towards the sun, long hair
blowing in the breeze, back before she started dying it
blond...

Ben stopped. Then looked again. He grabbed the newspaper
and looked. Then looked at the picture in the photo album
again.

Jerilyn was sitting on the dock, completely free and easy,
legs dangling in the lake water. The lake surrounding her
was a blue as a dream. She was wearing a bikini top and a
pair of ratty demin shorts that had seen better days. Her
eyes were squinted because of the sun and one hand was
pushing her long dark brown hair out of her eyes...

Ben looked back at the newspaper again.

The Honorable Deputy Mayor F. William Mulder was wearing a
black suit with a dark blue shirt and a snazzy blue and
silver tie. His eyes were squinted because he was facing
the sun. One hand was pushing his dark brown hair out of
his eyes...

Ben took a quick breath. "Holy God," he said while thinking
<Why hasn't anyone noticed before??>

Granted, the physical differences would throw anyone.

Jerilyn had fair skin and her nose was very small and
straight, almost elfish. While Mulder had a more swarthy
complexion and his nose looked like it had been broken a
few times. Plus Mulder was well over six foot tall and
Jerilyn only had a few inches, if even that, over Scully.
Still... and Ben knew his Mendolian laws quite well. Plus,
as a lawyer and an amateur photographer, he was well
trained for looking for the minute details. They had the
*exact* same dark hair color, the *exact* same pouty Cupid
lips, the *exact* same eye-color and even the *exact* same
unconscious facial and body expressions. It was too close
to be a coincidence.

"Oh my God..." he moaned. "How do I tell her that the man
she hates more than life itself may be her brother... Jesus
H., when did my life turn into a freaking soap opera?" He
chuckled. "'As the Stomach Churns.'"

Just then, the phone rang. "Who the hell?"

Ben dove for the phone, hoping to get it before the ringing
woke up Jerilyn. "Hello?" he asked rudely. It was, after
all, way after midnight.

"Didn't you get my message?" A breathy feminine voice
asked...

Jerilyn, who was not asleep, had lazily reached for the
phone when it rang just as Ben had. She heard Ben's harsh

"Hello?" and was about to hang up again when she heard the
sulty woman's voice ask if he received his message. Wide
awake now, she bolted up in bed, covering the mouthpiece
with her hand, listening.

"What message?" Ben rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Miss, I think
you have the wrong numbe-"

"This isn't the wrong number, Ben and you know what message
I'm talking about."

Ben remembered. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."

"It won't take long. Jerilyn won't even know you're gone."
<The hell she won't> Jerilyn's rapid-fire temper was
already heated up.

"I'm tired," Ben protested. "I am not up for any games in
the dark tonight."

"This is no game, Counselor," the woman purred. "I have all
the answers to every question you seek."

A pregnant pause. "We'll see," Ben growled.

I'll be waiting," was all the woman said before she hung
up.

Ben groaned. Got up, looked at his half-melted ice-cream.
Looked at the pictures of his wife and the newspaper paper
of the Deputy Mayor. He lit a cigarette, smoking it to the
filter while he paced. <<Maybe the truth is out there in
that warehouse>> he wondered. His curiosity was riled, he
crept back to his bedroom...

... and found his wife, standing in the doorway, dressed
and loading her gun.

Not a good sign.

"Wherever you think you're going tonight, honey," Agent
Starkweather said, holstering her gun. "You're taking me
with."

Al, who had been watching the whole time, groaned silently.
<<At least she can't see me yet>> he thought in relief....
"No you're not," Ben snapped, pushing past Jerilyn to the
dresser where he pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Excuse me?" Jerilyn put the gun down on the dresser and
faced Ben as he dressed. "Some femme fatale calls at the
witching hour, telling you she needs to meet with you
tonight because she's got "the answers" and you have the
balls to tell me that I'm not coming with? Ben, I know
you're not stupid enough to cheat on me so I'm thinking
this is about that damn oil rig case. And if it is and
something is going down tonight, something that we can blow
them out of the water with... I don't know, call me silly,
but MAYBE you'd want someone with a gun and a badge and
handcuffs there. I can call Doggett and the DC PD and we'd
be all over it in less than ten minutes."

"How do you know this is even about the case?"

"Because," she said condescendingly, "I work for the *X-
Files.* Granted, I'm still a rookie, but a mysterious phone
call in the middle of the night usually means some spooky
shit is going to go down."

"Jerilyn," he said reluctantly. "You can't come."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because... you're going to be subpeanoed for this case
too."

"WHAT!!" she exploded. "Is that what you meant by all
that "meeting in the middle" crap? Besides, what good is my
testimony going to do? I wasn't even working on the X-Files
when all of that went down."

"I know, but I need you as a character witness, reaffirming
the credentials of Doggett and Mulder."

"And a day ago you were ready to cook me because you
thought I was ready to bone Doggett... excuse the nasty
pun."

"Aw, Christ, I thought we settled that!" Ben fired back. "I
said I was wrong, I said I was sorry."

"Then let me come with you."

"NO."

"Ben, no offense, but you are a desk jockey, okay? Your
territory is the law library and the court room. If I'm not
mistaken, you were trying to sneak out in the dead of
night, dressed in black," she looked up and down at his
dark jeans and black t-shirt, "you're acting like a man
going on a stakeout and that's MY playing field."

"Jerilyn," he said as patiently as he could. "Honey, I need
you to trust me on this one. Yes, part of this is about the
case, but part of it... is... for us."

"Us?"

"Jerilyn..." Ben said. "I need to go do a little digging.
You're right, I'm a desk jockey, so research is MY thing
and I've got big time questions, especially concerning the
Deputy Mayor." Right away, her face crinkled in distaste,
but he plodded on, "I think this case has a lot more to do
with Mulder than we realize."

"Aaarrrrrgghhhh, CHRIST!! If it's an X-File, it's about
Mulder, whether he's there or not. How does THAT affect
anything?"

"Not in a professional sense... personally, it would affect
us personally."

"How?"

Ben took her by the hand and led her out to the living
room. "Sit down," he said gently. "If I'm right... you're
not going to like this."

"Look at this picture," Ben pointed to the picture of her
that he was admiring just a few moments ago.
Jerilyn looked. "Yep that's me and I'm cute. So what?"
"Look at this picture," he handed her the newspaper.
Jerilyn looked, then handed it back to him. "And...?"

"You don't see it!?!?" Ben said incredulously.

"See what?"

"Jerilyn LOOK," he said insistently. "The hair, the mouth,
the EYES, Jeri, look at the eyes..."

Al, meanwhile was still hovering about nervously, just
waiting for Ziggy to go completely on the fritz and letting
Jeri see him. <Wow, if THAT doesn't send her into
supernova...> Al worried.

Jerilyn looked, really really looked. She paled slightly
but said defiantly. "NO."

"Jeri, it's a possibility. You don't know who your natural
parents are."

"Ben," Now Jerilyn was being patient. "I'm not Samantha,
I'm too young to be her. Plus, Scully told me that about
two years ago that mystery was laid to rest. The girl is
dead. She was killed when she was fourteen. I would have
been six at the time."

"You told me all about Samantha's abduction horror story
and I'm not saying you're her. What I'm saying is... what
if there was another sister?"

"Another sister? That the family CONVIENIENTLY forgot
about? They lost one kid so what's another one? Besides
Ben, I was found in Hawaii when Mom and Dad were stationed
in Pearl Harbor. As far as I know, Mulder was born and
raised on the East Coast. What the hell have you been
smoking?"

"What if Mulder's dad had an affair or- or- his mother
maybe? And she hid the pregnancy and gave you away
afterwards?"

"You are full of shit" Jerilyn said. "You tell me I'm crazy
for staying with the X-Files, you think Scully and Mulder
are nuts and now you're talking like them! Or, more
accurately, you're talking like Mulder. You're coming up
with this whole parentage theory based on two photographs."

"Which is why I need to go, by myself." Ben said. "You said
yourself these men are dangerous. From what little you've
told me, they've been gunning for Mulder since Day One...
and anyone remotely connected. Look, maybe I'm wrong, and I
know you think I'm wrong... but that's just because you
hate the guy and want nothing to do with him. But Jeri,
honey," he said taking her hands, "what if these guys...
this... what was that name you called them, the Syndicate?"
Jerilyn nodded. Ben went on. "This Syndicate thing makes
the same assumption that I did. They went after Scully.
They went after their kid-"

Jerilyn noticed with bemusement that her husband was the
first to refer to the baby as both Mulder and Scully's son.

"- what if they come after you? What if you were right and
all that crazy shit that went down while you and Scully and
Doggett were in Scotland was nothing more than a ruse just
to bring you down."

"People try to bring me down because I'm a federal agent
and because I'm the Admiral's daughter. Not because Mulder
and I are even remotely related, which I think is crazy and
the worst stall tactic I have ever seen you use,
Counselor."

"Stall tactic?!?!" Ben's jaw dropped.

"You're trying to piss me off about this whole supposed
connection so I'll get mad enough to send you merrily about
your way to play Mission Impossible alone. Ben, if you got
a tip about these people... it could be a trap and you
could get killed. Ben, I watched my partner get wounded and
two of my friends die back at Minneapolis because of
horseshit like this, and we had a team of six undercover
guys on that case."

"I remember that," Ben said grimly, for Jerilyn had been
two months pregnant with the child she would lose three
weeks after that unfortunate incident.

"You're not going alone."

"Yes I am."

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" Al and Jerilyn shouted at the same time.
Jerilyn jumped and looked around wildly.

"What is it?" Ben asked.

"I think I'm losing my mind." Jerilyn mumbled. Then she
pressed on. "Fine, if I'm not going with, then either
Scully or Doggett IS."

"Goddamn it, I don't need a babysitter!" he yelled.

Ben, you are WAY over your head on this one! If you're going to go,
then TAKE someone with. If not, then for god's sake, don't go! Cripes,
it's twenty to one already!"

"Then give me the fucking file for the oil rig case!" Ben
shouted. "Let me read it so I know what happened so I won't
have to jump through these goddamn hoops!"

"I CAN'T!" she yelled back. "Besides, I thought you had
Kersh by the nose and he was going to give you that file."

"I may have him by the nose, but your daddy's got him by
the balls and I could get that file plus several others if
you call him and tell him that we need them."

"You know what?" Jerilyn said coldly. "If you're going to
be a damn fool about this, then just go." Ben went into the
bedroom to get his wallet and socks and shoes. Jerilyn
stood up, pursed her lips together. "Dammit," she cursed.

She followed him to the bedroom. "Wait." she asked. Ben
stood there, arms crossed. Jerilyn went to small cabinet in
their walk-in closet where she kept her weapons and amno
under lock and key. She walked out, loading her little
Beretta she wore on an ankle-holster. "Take this."

"Aw, for God's sake-" he started to protest.

"Humor me."

So he took the weapon and walked out. Jerilyn followed him.

Ben paused at the front door. "I wish you would trust me,"
he said sadly.

Icily she replied. "I wish I could trust you too."

Ben slammed the door.

Al shook his head <<Girl, I hope that's not the last time
you see him alive>> he thought woefully as he punched some
buttons so he would be sent to Sam's so he could update him
on the information he received from Doggett before he
popped in on the Starkweathers.