Doggett Residence ******************** "Al, you can't expect me to believe Billy Miles is an alien." Sam said, pacing back and forth. "How else do you explain it? I'm not expecting you to believe it. All I'm expecting you to do here is stop Ben's murder. Stopping Billy Miles might be the only way to do that, and if Billy Miles has the strength to rip those bars apart and a man in half, well...all I'm sayin' is he ain't the Incredible Hulk." Al rebuttled, taking a long, much needed puff on his cigar. "The vile that you saw the freaky four get today might have a connection to Billy Miles." He said quietly, and then folding his arms. "Connection? How?" "While Goushie was running some tests on Zig and I couldn't get to you earlier today, Doggett and I had a nice little chat. He read the police reports I showed him, and said something didn't match up." "A lot doesn't seem to be matching up in this leap." "Yeah, well...something apparently was overlooked in the original investigation." Al said, hoping that Sam would skip the part where he had to break the rules and show him the police report. "What was overlooked?" Sam asked, and then in rapid-fire speed, sputtered out "How did Doggett know that it was overlooked?" "A man by the name of Justin Leo who was questioned the first time around mentioned the vile." Choosing not to answer the first question. "This was definately a high profile case, spread wall-to-wall all over the news, so the quiestioning officer never gave it a second thought. The vile was never mentioned in police reports." "How did Doggett know that it was overlooked Al?" Sam demanded. "I...uh...kinda hadda show him the old police reports..." "Al! You know we can't do that! Do you have *ANY* idea what might have happened because you told him the deal? You are lucky you weren't yanked off of the project! Or worse! You know what happens when we break policies! Dammit Al! What POSSESSED you to--" "Goushie, wait!" Al shouted into the air, apparently not paying attention to Sam's ranting. "Sam, I--" Just when Sam was going to let Al explain himself, he was gone. Sam was alone. 2:36 AM Doggett Residence ***************** Sam wasted no time after Al disappeared. He figured Ziggy's breakdown had to happen sooner than originally plan. Ben was going to get killed in less than two hours, and the only clue they had was the testimony from someone who may or may not be involved in his murder. A man named Justin Leo. "Let your fingers do the waking..." Sam mumbled as he fumbled through the yellow pages. There were only five Leo's in the book at all, and only one of them was named Justin. The address was a Maryland one, 242 Washington Avenue. Luckily, since Doggett was recently new to the area, it wasn't hard to find a Maryland City map neatly folded in what Sam assumed was a "junk drawer." He found the address with relative ease, bolted out the door, and didn't care that his tires screamed as he tore out of the driveway. He had to get to this Leo guy before Leo--or whoever--got to Ben. With a little luck, getting to Leo would at least delay what happened. He drove furiously, and the traffic angels were with him for once. There were barely any red lights or traffic...of course, what can you expect at that hour? He barrelled through a railroad track, barely missing the rails. The neighborhood close to the address was a modest one. The yards were mostly small, poorly kept and littered with trash. There were people milling around on the street corner, shouting over the beat of their boom box, eyeing the pick-up as it inched up the street, while Sam looked for 242. 236...238...240...here it was...242. It was a one-story house with cracked dirty-white paint, and dingy blue trim. All the windows were lightless except a TV flickering in a window. Sam made his way up to the door, and pounded his fists. Sam felt like he was in the middle of a bad detective movie. "Open up! FBI!" A man with dark hair and a ten-o'clock shadow etching his chisled features opened the door. He donned a ratty Orioles T-shirt as swiss-cheased as Sam's memory and black sweats. "Can I help you?" He said, glancing back inside as if he had to get back to something soon. "Yeah, you're not in trouble or anything, all I need from you is a few answers. I'm Sa-John Doggett with the FBI. "Well, Agent SaJohn Doggett, what do you need to know?" The man scoffed, and inched away from the door. "You have a lot of stuff up here about uh...aliens..." Doggett said, looking around the house. There was an "I Want to Believe" poster like the one that hang in the x- files office, and newspaper clippings, tabloid articles, and even a map pinpointing, what Sam guessed, was recent sitings. "Kind of modest for a lawyer." "Yeah...this hobby of mine is expensive. I didn't know keeping track of little green men was against the law these days." "No...it isn't...just know someone else who keeps track of this stuff, too. He took out a recent photograph of Mulder that was in yesterday's paper of him and the Mayor at a ribbon-cutting. Mr. Leo shifted glances nervously from Sam to the paper, making the connection all too obvious. "He found anything?" Leo asked simply. "He's found out too much. I think that's why some people are out to get him. You know anything about that?" "What did he find?" Leo begged...and then swallowed, as if he needed oxygen to follow up with the next question. "Did he find Lily?" The man never even faced Sam, and visibly shriveled. Sam took a gamble and cautiously tried to talk the man out of getting involved with the Smoking Man and Kersh and the rest. It became clear to Sam that this man was only going through the only vehicle he saw possible to find Lilly-- whoever she was. "He--we can find her. The right way." Sam was hoping he was getting through to him. "I can't promise that." Leo said quietly. "Then I can't promise you won't have a headache later." Sam said rapid-fire. And with one fell swoop, knocked Leo cold, and tied him to the chair. "Sorry about this. I'll come back to get you in the morning, I'll bring an icepack and some aspirin with me." Sam ran out of the house, and figured with him tied up, he wasn't going anywhere until he came back for him. Sam decided his best next step would be to see if anyone saw the same car he saw drive up to the warehouse. The kids were all at least twice his size, but he knew how to defend himself if that was necessary, so he went up to them amiably. He wasn't scared of them, and made sure that these people knew that. "John Doggett FBI. None of you guys are in any trouble, just wanna know something." "We ain't do nothin'" A tall kid, obviously their leader, with a nose that had been broken a few times, fair skin and bleached white hair defensed. "I--uh--didn't come here to arrest anyone, and I am not asking you to rat on any of you, either. Just wanna know one thing, that's all." "You wanna get us in trouble, Donnie?" Someone who was obviously his girlfriend asked. She was short, but had an odd trick of using that to her advantage, not letting that stop her from showing the kid who was in charge. "Don't talk to him like that, your mamma taught you better...and if she ain't, you know sure as hell I have. Straighten up! Now, agent," She said, turning to Sam and blinking her coffee eyes frankly at him, "whatchya wanna know?" "Charmaine, you gonna get us into sh*t we don't need to be in! This ain't our business. Don't tell him nothin'!" Donnie made one final plea. "Man, Donnie, she ain't never gonna hush up if you don't shutchyer trap. Now, 'fore I shoot your ugly head off, zip it! "Thank you, Nick." She said turning to the kid. "But if anyone's gonna shoot his ugly head off, it's gonna be *me*!" Charmaine said in the quiet anger of a tiger's growl. "Now, I apologize for my peeps, sir...*what* do you want to know?" "Just wondering if you guys noticed a nice car driving up to that house over there." He said, pointing to Leo's house. "It's a dark Sedan, newer car. Three or four older guys might be inside. You see anything like that?" "If we saw somethin' do we hafta come to court?" Nick asked. "No...nothing like that. I just need to know if you saw something." "Uh, these dudes were coming up from the direction you came up in a real nice sedan like that...might be navy blue or black. We couldn't tell. Looked real nice. They came up to us and paid us all like a hundred dollars each to come knock on that guys house if any cops were driving around here." "Thanks. Did they tell you guys why?" Sam was finally getting leads that night. "No...never did. Hell, at a hundred bucks, we didn't *care* why." "I appreciate it guys. If you ever need anything, or remember anything, just lemme know, alright?" He said, writing his name and office number on a scrap piece of paper in his pocket. "You guys take care." He said, handing the note to Charmaine. ***************************************************** 2:36AM Washington D.C. police Department ********************************* "The Deputy Mayor's on his way to get his car." "So, fellas," Officer Dempsey was saying in the police station to the two cuffed suspects, looking at the two incredulously, "you're saying that this old dude smoking a cigarette hired you to steal a car. Sergeant, you wanna look through our data base and see if we've got a criminal record for This Old Dude Smoking a Cigarette? I'm sorry gentlemen, but the crumbs here just don't make a whole cracker. Why would someone want to steal the Deputy Mayor's car, to have it being driven back to them?" "We dunno, all we know is all we know, Miss Officer." Caster said. "He paid us five hundred for the bothovus. We didn't ask." "I see." She said, eyeing the both of them incredulously. "I'm gonna book you both for wreckless driving and aiding and abetting (sp?) a crime, and car theft." Then took a big breath, "You Damion Caster and Robert Carteri have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, if you cannot affoard an attorney one will be provided for you by the state. Do you understand what I'm saying." She finally finished, thrilled with herself that she finally made it in one breath. The officer cuffing Carteri nodded approvingly. "Pete, you think you can take 'em into holding?" Wordlessly he took both the criminals to their cells just as Mulder was driving up to the station to get his car. Wordlessly, another officer took them into holding. Almost as soon as he left, Mulder breezed through the door in his sloppiest sweat pants and Yankees t-shirt "Officer, you said my car was here?" Mulder asked "Yeah," a surly stick-of-a-man grumbled, "It's in holding. Just fill these out, and you'll be able to get it in the morning." "The morning! Listen, Officer Krumsky, I'm NOT going to be late for work because I can't get my car out of holding!" "Sorry, Mr. Mulder, but the holding office ain't open till 7:30. There ain't nothin' I can do. And my name *AIN'T* Officer Krumsky." "I'm sure there isn't, Officer Krumsky." "Oh, go blow it out your tail pipe." He grumbled as Mulder turned on his heals. A black Sedan drove up to the police headquarters. An elderly man got out of the car, and approached the desk. "Is Mr. Mulder's car ready? I'm here on his behalf." He said, slipping a hundred dollar bill. "Thank you, sir. Yes, it is. It's in holding though, and you won't be able to get it till it opens at 7:30." "In holding, eh?" He feigned loosing something, "He gave me the slips and the license plate and everything, but I seemed to have lost it. Can you give me another copy." "Yeah, I think that can be done. Have a nice night, sir. Take care!" The officer chirped as the man walked out. ***************************************************** 1:55am 500 block Pennsylvania Ave. **************************** The sugar and caffeine high from her doughnut and coffee break half an hour ago was not helping Officer Laura Dempsey awake. The drone of the APB's were not helping the situation, either. She willed her second wind to hit as she cruised down Pennsylvania Avenue. It was a quiet night, and she definitely needed some excitement to perk her up. The blue-hair special, this one a light blue '83 two-door Ford Taurus a few feet in front of her squealed its tires and wove in and out of traffic like a bat out of hell. She radioed her Sergeant and started chasing after it. "I gotta tail on MD license plate MS 101321, an '83, 84 light blue Ford Taurus, two door." "Our database says that's a hot one." Her boss replied, "I'll send ya some back-up." "Grandma forgot to lock her door on her way in to play bingo Sarge?" "It's the Deputy Mayor's car." "Damn, good to see our tax-money put to use. I'm on 'em." She put the police lights on, they wouldn't pull over. She turned on the siren, and they still wouldn't pull over. She chased after them down JFK, till a train finally forced them to stop. "Hold it right there! You're under arrest." Laura boomed through the loud speaker. Finally, the car pulled into a gas station. "The Deputy Mayor's going to be happy to get his car back, boys." Laura said after the usual cuffing them and reading their rights. "He hired us." The one named Caster said "*WHO* hired you? For *WHAT*?" Potomac River Bay Warehouse 3:02 AM Ben sat in his car, chain-smoking furiously. <> he thought as he smoked down the last cigarette that he had. The fight with his wife, the speeding drive he made down to the warehouse, sitting there for three hours had all come to naught. Oh how Jerilyn was going to rub it in when he told her. "Nothin' but a damn snipe hunt," he growled as he turned his car on and pulled away. After seeing his father-in-law with all those other men of power earlier today, Ben really wanted to talk to him more than anything else. He was getting to the point where he really wasn't caring about the case anymore, he hated to admit that Jerilyn was right and he was getting over his head. But, after tonight's revelation, he knew he had to talk to the Admiral. He had to know if he was right. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Admiral knew the truth behind Jerilyn's true origins and it was no coincidence that a spot in the X-Files opened up just as Jerilyn's career in Minneapolis started to go down the toilet. <> Ben thought as he pulled up to a Kum- and-Go to buy more cigarettes <> He could totally see Mulder and Jerilyn start bickering at a picnic table over dessert and Mulder, just to be obnoxious, smearing frosting on her face, then Jerilyn would be up in arms and come after him with the whole damn cake. He could also imagine recounting the events to his colleagues at work. "How was the reunion, Benny?" -- "Oh great, until my wife and my new brother-in- law started a food fight." Ben bought cigarettes, a hot dog with the works and a bottle of Evian water. He thanked the clerk and got back into his car. Eating the sloppy hot dog, he drove around a bit, not wanted to go home, not wanting to concede defeat, not wanting to have to spend the rest of the night having to listen to her rub it in what an idiot he had behaved. He toyed with the idea of going to the office and getting an early start, but he nixed that idea. He was tired. He drove around until he found a decent hotel. He pulled into a Holiday Inn that was not really popular with the touristy crowd and checked in. He took the wallet out of his back pocket of his jeans and Jerilyn's gun out of the pocket of his coat. He kicked off his shoes and wearily flopped down on the bed. Not even two seconds later, the door was kicked in, shattering the lock. "What the hell?" Ben demanded but the two assailants pummeled him into submission with heavy Magna flashlights. Bleeding, broken and unconscious, the two men in black dragged Ben out to the deserted parking lot towards a very nice Taurus with a "I Believe" bumper sticker on the back fender. An elderly man wearing a black suit and trench coat despite the June heat, lifted the hood of the car with his gloved hands. The two men dumped Ben in. The old man took out a small knife and made a cut in Ben's scalp. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him bleed copiously all over the trunk. The old man slammed the trunk hard and ordered his accomplices. "Plans have changed. We need him alive. Bring him to the round-a-view point. Then take the car back and make sure you're discovered. We'll have you out on bond by the afternoon and you'll each have a million in your bank accounts waiting." The other two men nodded, got in the Taurus and drove off with the Cigarette Smoking Man lighting up a Morley, watching. Jerilyn's gun laid on the nightstand next to the alarm clock in the hotel room, untouched, unused and totally useless. Cherry Tree Apartments Effiency #1013 Dawn CGB Spender let himself into the little apartment rented under the name of John Archway. Unloosing his tie, he sank into the Barcolounger he just got yesterday. He toyed with the idea of turning the television on for white noise, but decided the noise of the most influential city in the United States making the transition from darkness into light would be background sound enough. "I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled to himself as he lit a cigarette. He smiled ruefully as he thought about his life after a year. Foolish Covarrubias and Krycek, leaving him for dead at the bottom of the stairs, without eliminating his nurse. She had rescued him and brought him to "the greys." With Jeremiah Smith as their prisoner, he was forced to heal him. Such irony. The Cancer Man had felt better now than he had in years. He laid low for the most part, convinced the X-Files would fall apart without the watchful eye of Mulder. He soon learned that, although he admired her, he had also underestimated Dana Scully. He had also underestimated the new G-man, John Doggett. No one expected the straight-laced modern day Rhett Bulter with the Brooklynese accent to last through the weirdness of the X-Files. He had also underestimated Monica Reyes. She had been foolishly written off as a flake, a nobody, not a force to be reckoned with. Still he remained in retirement. He was rather enjoying a bit of peace, letting the new recruits slowly rebuild the project. Then he heard there was Starkweather on the forecast and he seized control of the project he started so many years ago. He knew that he would never know peace again. Twenty-eight years too late, he realized the Syndicate made two fatal mistakes. The first was only taking Samantha and not Fox. The second was letting the Admiral taking the girl-baby home to his wife when he was ordered to destroy her, at the time the only evidence of successful alien- human hybridization. He wondered how long it would be before they would figure it out that Jerilyn was in this world but not of this world. He worried about when Jerilyn would produce a child of her own. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder already created one and that was bad enough. If Starkweather were to ever procreate... he didn't even want to think of it... which was why it was a godsend that Mr. Starkweather had decided to meddle in the oil rig affair. Perfect opportunity to make Mrs. Starkweather a widow. But that wasn't enough. The Cancer Man knew he had to do more. For his own reasons, he had tried to keep Fox Mulder alive ever since he was a child. Because of the strength of the Admiral's pleading and the assumption that the infant would die within hours anyway, he let him take Jerilyn home. But now, twenty-eight years too late, he realized that twice, by letting emotions rule instead, he very well may have crafted the doom of his own planet. There was precious little time left to rectify those mistakes. Fox William Mulder and Jerilyn Michelle Bailey Starkweather were not children anymore. The decision had been made and he could rest with his conscience. The Mulder dynasty would be wiped out with one fell stroke. It had to be. Ben and Jeri's apartment 5:10 AM The radio alarm clock went off, right in the middle of "The Bob and Tom" show. Jerilyn's hand snaked out from underneath of the covered and solidly thumped the alarm clock. She snuggled deeper under the covers and scootched closer to the middle of the bed where Ben usually slept. Jerilyn sat straight up in bed. "Ben?" she asked. She leapt out of bed and reached for the phone, calling Ben's office first. It rang and rang and rang. "Don't panic, don't panic..." she told herself as she dialed Ben's cell phone. "Why did I let him go alone..." ******************* The Holiday Inn Room 127 Detective Edward Carillo surveyed the scene while the forensics team went through the room with a fine-tooth comb. He turned to the night-manager who was perspiring heavily. "And NOBODY saw ANYTHING?" he asked. The night-manager wiped his forehead with a white hankerchief. "No sir, Mr. Starkweather checked in a quarter to three. Our security guard noticed the door broken into at about four-thirty and saw the blood all over. We called the police immediately. We didn't touch ANYTHING." Just then, the cell phone on the nightstand next to the gun began to ring. Carillo took out his own hankerchief and picked up the phone. "Hello?" A pause. Then, a surly suspicious voice, "You're not Ben." "No, I am not. Who may you be?" "Who is this?" "I asked you first." "I'm Special Agent Jerilyn Starkweather with the Federal Bureau of Investigation who is trying to call her husband on his cell phone. With those pleasantries out of the way - - WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" "My name is Detective Edward Carillo with the DC PD, Agent Starkwe-" "Detective?? DETECTIVE?? What-- wh-what's going on? Where's Ben?" "Agent Starkweather, could you meet us at the police station in twenty minutes." "Oh God, oh my God... WHAT HAPPENED! WHERE IS BEN??" Jerilyn clutched the phone tightly. "Mrs. Starkweather we need to ask you some questions." Jerilyn pulled herself together and forced her to think like an FBI agent. "Okay, okay... I'll be there as soon as possible." She hung up the phone. Took several deep breaths, picked up the phone and dialed. ****************** Sam had just got to Doggett's apartment. He stopped at the door, holding the keys in his hands. "Okay, if I stopped Ben's murder, I will leap... now... NOW... NOW NOW NOW..." Doggett's cell phone began to ring. "Oh no..." he answered with a heavy heart... "Doggett." There were several deep breaths before: "Papa.. um... it's me, I need a favor..." a small voice on the other end replied. "Ben's gone... nobody knows where he is. A cop answered his cell phone when I tried to call and he told me he wants me to come to the police station... and... and I don't want to go by myself..." her voice cracked. Sam grimaced. "I'll pick you up," he said. "Thank you." a subdued Starkweather hung up the phone. Sam put the phone to his head. "Oh boy." Al was yanked from Sam and Doggett's house into complete darkness. He knew immediately what had happened. They had to break Ziggy down to try and purge the virus. To do that, they had to turn off the electricity. Unfortunately, the electricity was killed before Al had a chance to get out of the chamber door. It was as dark as unconsciousness, which oddly enough served as a small comfort to Al. He couldn't see how small the space was that he was confined in, and that was a great help to his state of mind. He started banging his fists on the door furiously. "Gooooooooooouuuuuuuuusssssssssshiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!!! !!!!!" Al hollared at the top of his lungs. "Admiral," Goushie stammerred, "I'm busy...in a way...over here, trying to fix the mainframe." Goushie always stammered, but it got worse when he had to tell something he knew the recipient didn't want to hear. "Al, we'll have the electricity back on as soon as we can, meanwhile, just sit tight, okay?" Came Dr. Beeks' crisp voice on the other side of the wall. Al flicked the gas on his lighter he kept in his pocket for his cigars. "How's Starkweather?" Doggett asked. "Dr. Beeks, would you mind telling me why he's out of the waiting room?" "I can't see to find my way outta here, Admiral." Doggett assured him. "I won't be headin' out any time soon. How's Starkweather." "Yeah, *sure* he doesn't have any feelings for her." Al grumbled. Then louder to reassure Doggett on the other side, "She's fine for now. Last I checked before the power shut was Mr. Starkweather is still killed tonight." "Damn!" He shouted, pounding his fist against the door. "Doc, you got a sledge hammer or something I can get this door down with?" Doggett suggested, trying to help. "In the emergency kit. Tina? You think you can get it for him?" "Sure 'Beena." Tina chirped. "NO!" Al protested adamantly. "If you break down that door, I can't get back there, and that's no good for anybody. Least of all for your little chickadee." "She's not my little chickadee," Doggett argued, "and if we don't get you outta there, you're gonna use up all that oxygen if we can't get the electricity back on, and that's no good for anybody either." "There's a good chance we'll get the power back on." Al persisted. "I cannot leave Sam back there!" He shouted. "There's enough Oxygen in here to last a couple of days." He said, evaluating the situation. Then turned off his lighter, because that was eating up his oxygen supply. He sat on the floor, figuring now would be a good opportunity to take a nap, fervently hoping that the electricity would turn on before it was too late 4:37 AM En route to Doggett Residence ***************************** With at least *some* good leads on, and the main suspect incapacitated, Sam decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to salvage what he could of at least a couple of the hours left of sleep. He was about to take his turn-off when he saw a black car with two elderly men sitting in the front. There was one in the back, but he couldn't make out who it was. None of the faces looked at all familiar. When they pulled up next to him at the red light before his turn-off, Sam realized that it was the same car. He waited until it wouldn't be obvious that he was being followed, and decided to take his chance. They waited until they were inside Maryland, and stopped on a bridge, and took a six-foot long unsecured bag out, and slumped it over the edge. Sam waited at the underpass in the shadows, making sure he wasn't spotted. Judging from the evidence of what these men had done before, Sam was sure that waiting till Doggett, Scully, Reyes, and Starkweather could build a strong case against them. It wouldn't do anyone any good for him to have the same fate as the pour soul of whoever was in the body bag. The latest piece of evidence would have to be revealed in the morning with everyone there. Now, Sam thought yawning, first thing's first. If he planned to be coherent at all the next day, he would need at least a little sleep. ***************************************************** ...a few hours earlier... "No...I want Starkweather alive, just make it easy to assume that he is dead." Marita said. "You *do* understand, Admiral; we will only kill him if he doesn't help our agenda. He is in no danger at this time." "It will destroy my daughter." The Admiral mildly protested. "Oh, so that's why he's in a hotel room tonight?" She hissed. "I'm sure she won't have anymore spirit left in her. That's what we're aiming for." "I won't be responsible for this." "You were responsible for the end of many lives, Admiral." she reminded coldly. "What is one more to add to the list. If he dies, she lives...we all live. He will be martyred for all of us. Maybe you can sleep at night if you think of it in that way." "What can you do about it now, anyway, Admiral." Kersh agreed. "This has all been set in motion anyway. Our people have already begun the process. You could not stop it if you tried." "I suppose I can't stop the tides, either." The Admiral said quietly, and turned on his heals, heading back to his hotel room. Scully's apartment right after Mulder gets back from the police station... Mulder let himself in just as his cell rang. "Mulder," he said in a hushed tone, for Scully and the baby were still sleeping. It was the Mayor, "I'm hoping that I caught you before you're leaving for work, I just wanted to let you know that the breakfast meeting got cancelled. I don't need you here until about ten or so." <> Mulder grinned as he looked towards Scully's bedroom. "Well... if you insist..." The Mayor chuckled before he hung up. "Go take that pretty redhead of yours out to breakfast. I'll see you around ten- thirty." Mulder, smiling like a seventeen year old boy at prom, crept into Scully's bedroom. He reflected on the many many classic novels he had to read for his English requirements while at Oxford. They always invariably described the heroine in repose with adjectives such as "angelic", "heavenly" and "queenly." Scully was none of those while she slept. The covers were kicked off, her pajamas completly rumpled. Her hair was wildly tousled, her mouth wide open, snoring slightly. Mulder shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes. He crossed over to Scully and smoothed her hair out of her face. The slight touch startled Scully out of sleep. "Mulder... what??"' "Well, Scully, I've got good news and good news." "That's a first. Normally it's bad news and worse news." Scully sat up. "The good news is they found my car. I think they're going to sell the videotape of the bust to FOX's "Stupidest Criminals."" "That IS good news," Scully said. "What's the other good news." Mulder crawled on top of the bed. "The GOOD news is, that my ass-crack of dawn breakfast meeting has been cancelled and the Mayor just called and said he didn't need me until ten-thirty." Scully rolled over. "Mulder... this is my day off... I was going to sleep in..." Mulder pounced on her and started to tickle her. "Noooooooo stop stop... you'll wake the baby..." she giggled. Mulder stopped tickling but he held her down playfully on the bed. "Come on Scully," he teased. "After an eight year long partnership fraught with peril, destruction, terror and unrequited emotional ties, we've got a lot of making up to do." "Mulder, don't you think having Will is make-up enough?" But Scully was already struggling to get Mulder's shirt off. "Well, I figure Will makes up for at least three years of unspoken sexual tension." Mulder start planting butterfly kisses on her forehead and face. Scully smiled and tilted her head up towards his to meet his mouth. "Mulder....???" "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" He was busy nibbling on her neck and working downwards. "When did our lives turn into a soap opera?" "You're complaining?" He was undoing the buttons of her pajamas top. "I mean, if you really not into this, I know of a haunted house that's a twenty minute drive north of town that's supposed to beat the one we went to a few Christmases ago. At this house, back in 1915, an entire family was killed in a house fire and when someone built a new house on the old foundations in 1936-" "Mulder?" "Yeah?" She placed her hand underneath his chin so he would have to look up at her. "Shut up." She pushed him off and laid on top of him, kissing him as she ran her finger through his hair. Mulder gave her a naughty grin and shut up. The Washington DC Vehicle Impound 7:45 am Norton Guffman walked towards the small office building, balancing a huge box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and two large Jamocha coffees. He kicked the door a few times instead of knocking. His friend and co-worker, Shaquille Rathaman opened and laughed at him. "Shoot..." she drawled. "Need a hand?" She took the coffees. "Ready for another exciting day of paper-pushin'?" he asked her as he went inside. "Oh lord, aren't I always?" Shaquille settled herself behind her desk. "Oh, hey, FYI for ya, honey. We've got the Deputy Mayor's car here in VIP status. He'll be here later today." "The Deputy wha--? Why?" "Ah, some punk-ass kids stole his car last night and when the cops recovered it, they brought it down here." "Huh," Guffman said, looking out the window at Mulder's car while slurping coffee, dribbling it down his freshly washed white blouse. "Damn," he muttered while his partner laughed. "Your wife's gonna shoot you for gettin' another shirt dirty, Norty." "Well, and the Deputy Mayor's gonna shoot us for having that car dirty, look at the big grease spot on the trunk." He put the sloppy cup of coffee down and took out his hankerchief. "I'm gonna go clean it off 'fore he gets here." "Brown noser," Shaquille said before she busied herself with paperwork. Guffman wallked outside, already feeling the oppressive June heat. "Damn," he said again, wiping his forehead. When he got close to the car, he stopped, did a double take and said "What in the world..." Gingerly he touched the spot, looked at his fingers and started to shake... "Oh my Gosh..." he ran back to the office. Shaquille looked up. "Norty, you're whiter than usual, what's up?" she quipped. "Shaquille, call the cops and get me the keys to the Deputy Mayor's car." "What? Norty have you lost you mind-" she started to say but was silenced when Guffman held up his two fingers. They were coated in blood. "Gimme those keys," he said in a shaky voice. "I think there's somethin' in that trunk." "You ain't touching a damn thing until the cops get here," Shaquille ordered as she dialed frantically. Fifteen minutes later, rookie Officer Jennifer Ithenstein opening the trunk open while her partner Howard Lisbon, still bleary-eyed from his call out to the hotel room where the up and coming lawyer Benjamin Starkweather was abducted from, covered her back. "Holy Schnikes," she exclaimed when the trunk flew open. "What is it?" Guffman quailed. But Ithenstein was busy radioing back to dispatch. "We need CSI and some DC "dicks" (police slang for detectives) at the impound, ASAP," she said harshly. "I got a trunk of a early model Ford Taurus, dripping with blood." Guffman fainted. Lisbon peered over Ithenstein's shoulder. "There's something in there," he said, slipping on latex gloves. He reached in and pulled it out. "It's a man's billfold," he announced. "I'm opening it..... oh my God..." "What is it?" Ithenstein asked looking at the one thing no one could find at the crime scene at the Holiday Inn: Benjamin Starkweather's wallet. As Lisbon stared at the Minnesota driver's license inside the wallet, he turned to his parter and said: "Call Carillo." Meanwhile Interrogation Room A Washington DC Police Station 8:01 AM Sam was leaning against the wall, angrily watching the interogation dance between Carillo and Starkweather, but holding his tongue. Carillo rubbed his temples again. "Alright, Mrs. Starkweather, let's go through this one more time." Starkweather, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of black dress slacks, her hair pulled up in its characteristic bun, gritted her teeth and glared at the detective. "Sir, with all due respect," she heroically blinked back tears. "I've told you what happened last night twice already. I am well schooled in the art of questioning. If you're looking for discrepancies in my "story", you aren't going to find any." <> Sam thought incredulously. "But you admit that you and Mr. Starkweather are having martial difficulties." "That's not exactly a deep dark secret," Starkweather said coolly. "But you let him go alone to a potentially life-threatening situation." "He was adamant about going alone, I told you this. We got into an argument about him going. He assured me that he would be fine alone, so for my own sanity's sake, I gave him one of my firearms to take with. Ben can handle a weapon. He and his father go hunting all the time. I wanted to go with or have him at least call my partner here, or my superior, Agent Scully. But he insisted on going alone, so I let him." Sam and Carillo could barely hear her say: "I shouldn't have let him go alone." Carillo pressed on. "That would be Agent Dana Scully? Of X- File fame?" "Yes sir, we all work on the X-Files." "And you believe that your husband's disappearance is directly connected to an X-File case that your husband was taking to court?" "Yes sir." Carillo's partner just then entered the interrogation room. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Carillo privately," said Dectective David Sommerset. Carillo excused himself. Despite her knowledge of the two- way mirror and the hidden tape recorder, she turned to Sam and pleaded, "What AREN'T they telling us?" "I don't know, Starkweather," Sam said helplessly. Starkweather folded her hands together as if she was praying and pressed her hands against her forehead, her shoulders shaking as she fought tears. Outside the interogation room, Sommerset asked Carillo. "Whaddya think?" "Well, she doesn't have an alibi and her reports from her previous field office in Minneapolis don't have much good to say about her, she was written up several times for inappropriate displays of temper... but... I don't know man, my gut's telling me she doesn't have a clue what's going on. I think she's clean." "Well, I think your guts right." "Whaddya got?" "Ithenstein and Lisbon went out on a car on a report with blood stains on the Deputy Mayor's trunk." "What?" "Lemme finish. The Deputy Mayor used to be a fibbie, working with the X-Files and it's no secret at City Hall or J. Edgar that the DM and Agent Starkweather do not get along. Plus, he's got no love for her husband ever since he subpoenaed him, along with Agent Doggett, Agent Scully and his own wife for some court case on the last case the DM ever worked on as an official fibbie. I don't know what the nature of the case is, but from what I've been able to gather in a short time, it's a big'un and nobody working for the Spook Squad at J. Edgar wants that case to go to trial." "What does that have to do with anything?" "Lisbon found Mr. Starkweather's wallet in the DM's trunk. The trunk was saturated in blood. We've got samples set to forensics right now." "You think those two feds," Carillo gestured towards the interrogation room, "may have cooked something up along with the DM so they don't have to go to court?" "I would have said yes," Sommerset said. "Except for the fact that our happy little car-jackers changed their stories. They're now saying that it was the Deputy Mayor that hired him. They're saying that the DM wanted Ben out of the way and when they asked if he was worried about getting caught, he laughed it off, saying that the blame would fall on those two 'cause it's been rumored that those two share more than offices, if you know what I mean. Plus it's also not a secret that the DM's got a major hard-on for Agent Doggett because Doggett supposedly pushed the DM out of the X-Files. Doggett's got a solid history for being absolutely by-the-book, plus a total career-climber. You're looked at the next possible AD when Skinner retires. As for the missus... well, maybe she's doing the nasty with him and maybe not, but if her Minneapolis transcripts are spotted, her military, her med school and her DC records are squeaky clean, not to mention her personal history of being straight as a die. According to our profiler, if she wanted to get rid of her husband, she'd be more of the type to serve him papers, not blow him away." "But neither one of 'em got alibis." "But you just said that your gut says she's clean." "I know, but I need proof to back up my gut." Carillo said. "What do you want me to do?" "Bring me the Deputy Mayor." Scully's apartment 8:17 am Spooned around her tiny body, Mulder played with her hair. "Scully?" "Hm?" "We should go somewhere." "Go where?" she asked lazily. "Out for breakfast?" "No... I mean, away, on a trip. Just me and you and Boo." "Mulder, do my ears deceive me? Are you actually suggesting a vacation? Like normal people?" "Well, I haven't really gone on a vacation except for Graceland a few years ago, unless you call being held against my will on a spaceship then being buried alive for three months a vacation." "Ha ha." Scully turned around to face him. "Where would you want to go?" "How about the Black Hills." "The Black Hills?" "Yeah. The Black Hills, South Dakota. Get a nice hotel room in Rapid City, go see Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse monument, Sturgis, hey in fact, if we can schedule it right, we can go up there the same time the big Harley Davidson rally is up there. Whaddya say, Scully? I won't shave for about two weeks and... neither would you I guess, then get all of us some matching leather pants and I'll get a Hog with a side-car so all three of us can ride up together. They make the cutest little helmets for babies..." "Mulder, your idea of family togetherness scares me." "I hope you're not suggesting Disneyland. I have a deep- seated fear of Donald Duck." "I think William's a little young for Disneyland. I think he's also a little young for Sturgis too." "Well how old does he have to be before I can take him to the rally?" "Forty." Mulder snorted with laughter. "Well, where do you want to go?" "Name a state that we haven't been to where no type of paranormal strangeness has occured to us." "Well, that rules out the majority of the Continental United States." Mulder reasoned. "How about this Scully? This weekend, I'll go up to Mom and Dad's house in Martha's Vineyard and get it fixed up and as soon as this fiasco with Ben Starkweather's law suit gets cleared up, we'll go up there for a long week and pretend we're just the typical boring, middle-aged All-American family." Scully snuggled closer. "Works for me." Just then Mulder's cell phone rang. "Arrggghhh... real life," he complained as he reached for his phone. "Mulder... yes... okay... sure that's no problem... what's this about... I see... I'll be there in forty-five minutes." He hung up. "What's that about?" "The police station. Something about my car. They said they had some questions for me." Mulder shrugged. "It's probably no big deal." He swung out of bed and headed for the shower. After checking on Will to make sure he was still asleep, Scully joined him. The police station 9:16 am "Have a seat Mr. Mulder," Detective Carillo offered. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, water? Juice." "No, thanks. What's going on?" "Oh, I've just got some quick questions," Carillo slid a photograph in front of him. "Do you know this man?" Mulder picked it up. "Sure, that's Ben Starkweather." "Do you know Mr. Starkweather very well?" Mulder's trouble sonar starting beeping loudly within him. "Has something happened to him?" "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Mulder." "I know him. Not very well, I'm better aquainted with his wife." "Ah, Mrs. Starkweather. Interesting lady, wouldn't you say?" "I wouldn't say she's a lady." "Good friends with Mrs. Starkweather?" Mulder eyed the detective suspiciously. "May I ask what this has to do with my car?" "I'm getting there. Are you good friends with Mrs. Starkweather?" Carillo asked again, a little more firmly. Mulder struggled for an answer. "No..." he finally said. "I wouldn't say Mrs. Starkweather and I are friends." "Uh-huh." Carillo made a note. "Mr. Mulder, where were you last night around.... oh... four AM?" "I was at Agent Dana Scully's house." Mulder felt himself getting defensive. "And she is...?" "My ex-partner when I was still working for the FBI." "Still good friends with Agent Scully?" "Yes." "Very good?" "We're in a relationship now," Mulder forced himself to say, it still felt weird admitting out loud what Scully really was to him. "We're raising a child together." "How nice," Carillo said. "Can she corraborate your story, Mr. Mulder?" "Yes..." Mulder felt more and more uneasy. "Where are you going with this? Has something happened to the Starkweathers?" "You could say that. Would Agent Scully lie for you?" "What?" Mulder scowled. "Detective, you better tell me what's going on?" "Mr. Mulder, the trunk of your car was coated with blood." Carillo informed him pleasantly. "and Mr. Starkweather's wallet was found in the trunk as well." "WHAT!!!" Mulder bolted out of his chair. "How?!?!" "I was hoping you could tell us." "ME?!?! But... I... I don't..." Mulder's mind began working frantically. <> "My car was stolen earlier yesterday. I received a call early this morning that it was found... but..." Mulder shook his head. "I don't have any answers for you." Carillo eyed him carefully. "I see..." "Have you told Agent Starkweather?" "We've talked to her." "Is she alright?" "I thought you two weren't friends?" "We're not... but she's doing a good job in the X-Files, my old division and she is fairly good friends with Agent Scully. We don't see eye to eye all the time... Starkweather and I, but I respect her work and don't wish any harm to her OR her husband." Against his will, Carillo stood up and said. "You may leave Mr. Mulder, but I wouldn't recommend leaving town anytime soon. You never know when an arrest warrant would pop up." He went to the door and paused, fingering the door knob. "This is your only chance to come clean and tell us what happened. I could recommend leniency." "I wish I could tell you what happened too." Mulder said clearly, firmly. "Well, when we do come up with the goods, you better not make me chase after you, Deputy Mayor." Carillo said. "Otherwise that might put me in a real bad mood and I might tell the judge to throw the book at you instead." He opened the door and watched Mulder hurry out. Sommerset came out of the observation room. "Think that was a good idea, letting Mulder go like that?" Carillo shrugged. "He ain't going anywhere. He's got a girlfriend and a baby to worry about." Just then, another officer, clutching a Ziplock baggie came running down the hall. "DETECTIVE!!!! Wait!!!" "What is it?" The officer, out of breath, "We just found a body off the pier on the Potomac. Some kids can testify that they saw a group of men dump it in the river earlier this morning and that they were driving an early model Taurus." "Like the DM's!" Carillo grabbed the young rookie by the arm. "Told ya we shouldn't have let the DM go," Sommerset snarled as he ran down the hallway where Mulder disappeared. "Are you sure it's Starkweather?" Carillo demanded the young rookie. The rookie held up the Ziplock baggie. "The body was burned, but we took this off of him. It was on the left ring-finger." Carillo took the baggie and looked at the contents. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed and took off running. Sam escorted a very shaken Jerilyn Starkweather down the dingy hallway towards the exit. He felt so bad for her that he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. She didn't fight him off. "I can't believe this is happening," she said softly, but dry-eyed. Sam was bereft words, for how could he say something as hollow as "We'll find him," when he already knew that Ben was dead. Just as they were about to exit, they met Mulder at the door. Starkweather glared. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Jerilyn, Doggett, I need to talk to you NOW," Mulder said insistantly but was interrupted by Carillo and Sommerset. Sommerset roughly grabbed Mulder by the arms, pulling out his handcuffs. "You're coming with me, buddy," he sneered. "What the hell?" Starkweather asked as Carillo pulled her aside. While Sommerset read him his rights, Mulder was yelling at Sam and Starkweather. "Jerilyn! Doggett, I'm being set up. Please! Call Scully, call the Gunmen, find out what's going on! Jerilyn, listen to me, whatever he's saying, it's NOT TRUE!!" "Mrs. Starkweather, I need your help..." As gently as he could, he told her. "We found a burned body in the river. He was wearing this." He held up the Ziplock baggie. "Can you identify this ring for me?" Starkweather looked at Mulder, looked at Carillo. She took the Ziplock baggie and took the ring out, saw the initials carved into it and dropped it. "Oh my God," she cried, scooping Ben's wedding band off the ground. "NO." She turned white. "Oh God nooooooooo..." <> Sam screamed to himself. <> "Don't worry Mrs. Starkweather," Sommerset tightned the cuffs on Mulder's wrists. Mulder winced in pain. "We've got the killer right here." "What proof!" Sam demanded. "It's all circumstantial!" Mulder, forgetting his right to remain silent. "Doggett, get her out of here, call Scully, call Skinner, get the Gunmen and get me out of this! Jerilyn, listen to me, this is a setup!" But Starkweather was glaring at Mulder, a murderous hatred burning in her eyes for her photographic memory clicked back on the arguement they had only twenty-four hours earlier... <<"You wanna get back for what I did to your mother... You set me up because you want to punish me, and you're dragging Doggett down with me. Look -- this is *OUR* fight. No need to bring Puppy Man into this." "I am not going to defend myself to you. Deputy Mayor may I remind you that this is no longer your office." Starkweather replied icily... "next time you accuse someone, Mr. Mulder, it might not be a bad idea to make sure your finger isn't barking up the wrong *ss." <<"If you think I'm done here, you've got another thing coming." Mulder growled...>> "It's a setup alright," Starkweather hissed at Mulder. "YOU set US up! All of us! Ben, me, Doggett, hell you even used Scully you sick son of a b*tch!!!" She went after Mulder. Assuming by her small stature, Carillo and Sommerset thought she was just going to b*tch-slap Mulder, so they made no move to stop her. Sam was the only one who really knew how physically strong she was and he tried to grab her, but her arm slipped out of his hands. Plus she moved so fast, she was almost a blur. She swung her fist and threw a round-house punch like a man. There was a sickening crunch of breaking bone and cartilege as Mulder's knees buckled. Sommerset pulled him back up and tried to pull him away. Mulder kicked at Starkweather as she grabbed him by the throat and began swearing and squeezing. "Jesus Christ, get her off of him!!!" Sommerset yelled. It took both Sam and Carillo to pull Starkweather off. Mulder, blood oozing out of his nose, gasped out. "You're making a mistake, Jerilyn! I swear, I didn't kill your husband!" "FUCK YOU FOX MULDER!!" She screamed hysterically as Sam pinned her arms. She lunged, trying to get free of Sam's grip while she continued to yell. "I'll get you for this, I swear to God Mulder, you're going to DIE for this and I'm going to watch!!!!" As Sommerset lead Mulder away, Mulder continued to yell out, "Doggett, Doggett, talk some sense into her!!! Get Scully!!!!" "Starkweather, c'mon..." Sam pulled Starkweather away. Carillo tried to stop them. "I need to ask her a few questions..." "Hasn't she had enough today?" Sam snapped, "she just found out her husband's dead.... ********************************** Benjamin Starkweather opened his eyes. He felt his own blood and sweat crusted on his face. He tried to move his arms and discovered that they were tied behind his back. His entire body hurt like hell. His eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness, then he realized that he was blindfolded. He did hear the unmistakable sound of a ciagarette lighter. "Who's there!" he yelled out. "A friend," a smarmy voice informed him. "Mr. Starkweather, I have some rather unfortunate news for you... your wife is dead. She was killed, rather unfortunately." Ben felt his heart drop to his shoes. "What happened?" "You shouldn't have left her alone in your apartment last night." Ben bowed his head. "Oh God..." "Mr. Starkweather," CSM told him, "I'm about to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to avenge the death of your wife." "What's that?" "Come work for me..." Back to the Future QL HQ "Thank God, thank God, thank YOU almighty blessed God!" Al crowed. "Um..." Goushie said. "Don't be too thankful... this is just a temporary fix." "TEMPORARY???" Al fumed. "Whaddya mean TEMPORARY!!!" "Well, we've cleaned the virus outta Ziggy, but she's still got bugs, like Mulder being able to see you and Starkweather being able to hear you. Plus there's some other things wrong..." "Like what?" "Like we're running on auxillary power. Like... oh... lots of other little treats the virus left behind. We still could potentially crash... but, on the flip side... there's some good news..." "What's that?" "According to Ziggy, Ben Starkweather doesn't die anymore." "He doesn't!!" Al crowed joyfully. "Then why am I still here?" Doggett asked. "Um... because he's found wandering the street with partial amnesia... three days after Starkweather is killed and six days after Mulder is killed." "Aw... SH*T!!!" Al kicked the wall. "But more good news is, I don't know what Sam did, but he bought us some time. Mulder doesn't die tomorrow like he's supposed but five days from now. That's two more days than what we had originally." "Well, la-di-da," Al said snidely as he lit another cigar. "Do they all think back there that Ben's dead." Doggett asked. "Um..." Goushie squirmed. "Yeah..." Doggett turned to Al. "You promised me to take me to Starkweather. Take me there, now." "Al! We can't do that!!" Goushie said. "We're running on low power, we-" he was silenced by a cutting look from not just Al, but Doggett too. "Okay... but make it quick..." ********************************** Ben and Jeri's apartment 9:17 am Starkweather let herself into the home she shared with Ben. Not even twelve hours ago, they had made up, made love, and made a complete fools of eachother with another fight. Now he was gone. She had declined Sam-in-Doggett's offer to have him stay with her for a bit. She stood there, alone in her living room, looking at the photographs on the wall, their wedding pictures, her graduation pictures, his graduation pictures... happier times. Caesar the cat meowed once, as if to ask where Ben was and leaped off the coffee table, knocking over a small box wrapped in soft pink tissue paper, bound by a silver ribbon. "What did you find, kitty?" she asked as she sat on the couch, reaching for the package. She read on the tiny card attached: "To my big bad FBI broad Love, the Counselor." Gulping back tears, she tore apart the fragile paper and opened the box. "Ohhhh..." she exclaimed, her shoulders slumping as she lifted out a beautiful antique silver locket. With trembling hands, she opened the locket. Her mouth began to work as she saw the tiny picture of her mother holding her when she was a baby, her sweet adoptive mother who had loved her always and forever just as she was, never trying to make her something that she wasn't, who died when she was only sixteen, battling a cancer that destroyed her mind, her memory, her soul. She had told Ben the entire story, even how she overheard a young Fox Mulder badgering her about the possibility of her being a multiple alien abductee right before she descended into madness and death. Ben had only commented. "I wish I could meet her." < Hot tears slid down her face uncontrollably now and in the still loneliness of her apartment, Jerilyn curled up into a ball on her sofa and sobbed like she only did when no one was watching.... Or so she thought. After explaining the rules to Doggett: "No talking, no whispering, no nothing, ZIP," Al took Doggett by the hand and got ready to open the imaging door. "Hey, Admiral, I know we're getting along better than before, but I think hand-holding is a little too soon in our relationship." "Shut up," Al sighed. "I'm not exactly enjoying this either, but I've got to hold onto you somewhere or else you won't be able to see." The door opened. Al re-adjusted, grabbing Doggett by the shoulder instead of his hand. "Let's go." They walked in just as Jerilyn had opened the gift Ben meant to give her last night but never did. Doggett made a move towards her, but Al pulled him back, shaking his head 'no'. They watched as she pulled out a beautiful sterling silver locket, cut and marked with intricate and antique carvings, hanging off of a heavy silver chain. Doggett watched Jerilyn open the locket with shaking hands, watched her clench it tight with one hand while putting the hand in the cast to her eyes as a gut-wrenching sob escaped from her. Al watched Doggett's own eyes tear up as Jerilyn curl up in the fetal position on her sofa, burying her face in the sofa cushions. It hurt both of them to see the diminutive tough little lady so vulnerable and fragile. Doggett reached out to touch her, to stroke her hair and saw in horror his own hand pass through her head as if it was smoke. "Doc, you listen to me now," he said, his gravelly voice shaking. "You hang in there, everything's gonna be fine, I'm still here, I'm still watching your back, Doc,-" Suddenly Starkweather and her apartment were gone and Doggett was in the imagining chamber again. "What happened??" "I cut you off," Al snapped. "I told you, no talking... she'll think she's going insane..." ************************ Meanwhile... At the sound of Doggett's voice, Starkweather had bolted up. She wiped the tears off her face. "Doggett?" she called out. She got off her couch. "Papa John...." she took a quivery breath. "I'm losing it." She went over to her phone and dialled. She got Doggett's voice mail and left a message. "Papa John... it's me... I'm seriously losing my grip on things... maybe I shouldn't be by myself, so whenever you get this message... whenever you get a chance... come get me... I'd appreciate it," her voice cracked again before she hung up. "Bye," she whispered. She went back to her couch. Caesar the cat, very unfeline- like, came up to his mistress and licked the tears off her face. "Good kitty," she whimpered while she began to cry again as she stroked her cat. Sam was numb. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he changed history by trying to stop Leo? Had he set things in motion when he chased that car? Had they spotted him? "Being angry at Mulder isn't going to help anyone...least of all Ben." Sam said, not quite knowing what to say, praying that he would get through to her. Starkweather's eyes were dry. She couldn't cry. It hadn't quite hit her yet...if she could be mad at that idiot Deputy Mayor he wouldn't be *DEAD*. Her anger towards Mulder was emotional energy she didn't have to spend on getting past the numbness of the news she just received. "Ben doesn't need my help anymore, Doggett." She said icily. Then, in a voice that wasn't hers, she finished, "He's gone, and so am I." She locked eyes with Sam for a moment--he saw a familiar combination of Mulder and confusion--then turned on her heel, and marched out, slamming the door behind her. Sam didn't want to leave her alone, but knew that she would probably shut him out if he offered her his company. He wondered if she even heard what she just said to him. "Skinner?" Sam said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "It's Doggett, Sir." Failing his attempt to keep his professional tone. "You alright, John?" "You haven't heard yet?" "Haven't heard what? Had a midnight flight back from New York State, overslept, and I just got into my office this morning, haven't even had a chance to check the newspaper." "You won't have to check the newspapers...I'll tell you what's on the front page right now...the main headline is Deputy Mayor of DC Arrested for Murder." There was a beat of silence. "They found blood in his car, and a wallet." "Belonging to whom." Skinner finally managed to croak out. "Ben Starkweather." "That little shit deserved it." Skinner growled under his breath. "How can they arre--" Sam was way ahead of him. "They've got kids who can testify a body was dumped into the Patomac from a car matching the description of Mulder's within a reasonable time frame from when the blood was left in the trunk." "Since when do they trust the testimony of punk kids?" Skinner growled under his breath, "How's Starkweather holding up?" "She's still in shock." "Mulder came down here...I think to make sure she was alright...and that's when they arrested him. She punched him in the jaw calling him every name in the book." "Doggett, I'll get Kimberly to cancel my morning appointments. I want you up here so we can go over the evidence, and when forensics is through, I want Scully up here. We are going through everything with a fine-toothed comb." The elevator ride up to Skinner's office seemed to last an eternity. He couldn't understand why this was happening *now*...*then*...or whenever it happened to be...time references are all screwed up for time travelers. He didn't wait for Kimberly to announce his presence. She was too busy on the phone, trying to smooth over broken commitments. "Maybe this all wouldn't have happened if I hadn't hired Starkweather." Skinner muttered as soon as Sam closed the door. "Playing what-if games isn't going to help any of us, Sir." Sam said, taking a seat in front of Skinner's desk. "She's proven to be an assett to my division. She was willing to risk her home life for both Mulder and me, and I think she would have had this not happened. I'm afraid *I* am the one to blame for that." "What the hell gave you that idea?" Skinner demanded. "I did some checking," Sam began cautiously, "and an attorney named Justin Leo seemed to have the only solid connection to his case. I went to his residence for questioning, and found substantial evidence that lead me to believe he was planning to murder someone. I tied him up for prevention. On my way home, I happened upon the same dark four-door sedan I saw at the warehouse dumping a body in the Patomac. They might have seen me without my knowledge." "Doggett, that's a lead...it *doesn't* make you responsible for Mulder's arrest. If anything, that may redeem him. There's gotta be something in here. I am not going to sit idly by and watch him be destroyed. Not again." "I happen to know Ben isn't dead." Al's voice came from behind him Sam spun around in his chair. "What do you mean he isn't dead?!" Sam hissed. "What do you mean *who* isn't dead...Doggett...I know you've been under a helluva lot of stress lately..." "Ben...Ben Starkweather isn't dead yet." Sam answered flatly. "How do you know?" "I can't tell you yet." Sam said plainly. "Christ, John, I expect the runaround from Mulder, but not from you." Skinner snapped back. "Jeri's finally starting to loose it, Sam. The whole situation finally dawned on her. I'm gonna go keep an eye on Dana while you guys are busy with this." Al reported "You think the DD is on it?" Skinner asked quietly. "It's hard to say, Sir." Sam said, cautious of who might be listening. Just then, Kimberly popped her head in. "Sir, I didn't want to interrupt, but I couldn't cancel your 11 meeting. It's with the Deputy Director." "Thanks." Then turning to Doggett, "Check back with me if you find anything. That'll be all, Agent." Skinner said crisply, and Sam took his leave. Sam didn't know Starkweather that well...he wanted to be there for her. He was about to head down to his office and get his coat to leave when he found Starkweather's message on Doggett's e-mail. He knew Al was with Scully at the moment, so she wasn't completely alone. He felt better about that. "I can't BELIEVE those DICKS suspected me for two fucking minutes, Doggett." She hissed incredulously. Her eyes were dry but still puffy and red. "Well, speaking from experience here, sometimes our job means pulling at whatever straws are there." Lord knows he had to do that enough times as a time-traveler. "We made up." She admitted softly. "We made up when I came home last night, and then...afterwards...he got a call from some chick with a breathy Russian accent. I know, because I picked up the extension in the bedroom. I went out to confront him about it, telling him I wouldn't let him go by himself; then the fucker used a helluva stall tactic...he actually told me some cockshit theory about that fucker who killed him and me being related. Then," her lips began to quiver now, "I let him go." Then her body started to quake with sobs again, and Sam didn't resist the impulse this time to pull her close to him, letting her go. "Just let it go, Jerilyn..." "Goddammit..." she said, shouting now, "the worst part about this whole fucking thing is that I was going to get out of the x-files after this case. He didn't want me to be in the FBI because he didn't want me to die on the job...I didn't think for one minute that I would be the one to outlive him." "I know...I know..." Sam said softly. He wanted more than anything to tell her he wasn't dead yet, but knew she just needed him to be solid and strong. Bringing someone back from the grave isn't exactly the best way to show someone you're stable. He stayed with her for a few more hours until she sobbed herself to sleep, just letting her cry. He decided to check on her again in a few hours, but now, he needed to go over to Scully's. He needed her professional opinion as much as he needed to know she was alright. Scully didn't look as though she had spent any fresh tears at all when Sam came to her door. Al was still waiting for him there. "You look like hell, Sam." Al commented. "Just help yourself to some coffee, Doggett," Scully was saying, picking Will up from his high-chair. "Take a seat on the couch for a sec, I gotta put Will down for his nap." "How did Ziggy find out that Ben's not dead?" "I dunno, Sam, you musta changed history somehow, because the police reports change. Somehow, the body dumped in the river was discovered not to be Ben's." "I tied up Leo, Al. He looked like he was getting ready to do something, and I tied him up. I interviewed some kids, and they said they saw the same sedan that we saw in the warehouse drive up to Leo's house, and then on my way home, I saw the sedan dump a body into the river." "So all we gotta do is find out where Ben is, and we're homefree!" Al exclaimed, tapping a few keys on the handlink. "I think Scully's coming, since we've got bugs in the system still, I better vamoos. Be careful." "How's Starkweather handling all of this?" Scully asked as she came through the hall. She had a look of complete confusion on her face. "I think I need to talk to more adults besides Mulder...I'm hearing voices..." "Starkweather's as well as to be suspected." Sam said releasing a heavy sigh as he handed her the photocopies. "I brought you the police reports, thought you might wanna look them over." "I want to do the autopsy on the body they found." Scully said, perusing the papers. "90 % of the body is burned, Scully." "I know...I still want to do the autopsy." She persisted. "The coroner has already performed the official autopsy...there's nothing we can do about that at this point." "Don't give me that, Doggett. We've gotta do something. I can't put "my finger on it, but something about this report doesn't mesh." "We'll find it, then we can go after the people who did this." "Doggett...I hate to bring this up in your face," Scully said coldly, "but the last time you said something like that was not long before Mulder's funeral. Don't make me promises you damn well know you can't keep." She looked around, wishing she had a glass of water to splash in his face. "Scully, I--" Sam said in a pained tone, but didn't know how else to finish to make her believe he fully intended to keep that promise. "I'm sorry. Doggett..." She apologized, "I didn't mean that...I just..." "Yes, you did." Sam said plainly. "Just what?" "Just forget it, alright..." She proceeded to pick up baby toys that were lying in the floor. "No, look..it's ok...I know you're angry...so am I. Finish what you started." Scully couldn't even face Doggett. "I can't let him down again." She pretended to be cleaning the kitchen as she spoke. "What do you mean, 'let him down'?" "I let Mulder down once, and it cost him his life...if it wasn't for Will being on the way, I think it would have destroyed me. I don't know what would happen if I watched him be destoryed again. I'm worried for Will." "I know, but I can't help but see that there's something else more at stake here." He wasn't lying. Sam knew there was a lot more at stake with Mulder's arrest. "Doggett...you don't understand..." "You're right...I don't...enlighten me." "Mulder is one of the most aggravating people I've ever met." "I know..." "He is a jack-ass about 60% of the time." "That's not exactly what I'd call new information." Sam said wryly. Scully smiled sheepishly. "I joined the x-files office eight years ago not really sure what to expect of "Spooky" Mulder. I spent the greater part of my eight years with him making a point of proving him wrong. Somewhere along the way, between the freaks of nature and aliens and things that go bump in the night we investigated, I realized that his quest had become mine...and if we found the truth, that's all I needed to make my life meaningful." She hesitated and let out a ragged sigh, "Then he gave me Will...something I never in my wildest dreams thought I could have...and meaning and fulfillment I never thought possible." She buried her face in her hands, and her body finally started to allow her to sob. "God, Doggett...I don't know what I'm gonna do if he looses his freedom. I don't want Will to grow up without his Dad." "You will keep plugging away at the Truth he started," Sam began cautiously, placing an assuring hand on her shoulder. "But I don't think that'll be necessary. I've got lots of outside help working around the clock on this. I *am* keeping this promise to you, Scully. I'm going to do all I can to make sure nothing happens to him. So are a lot of other people." With that, he decided to take his leave and check on Starkweather. Meanwhile... back at the warehouse... "Work for you?" Ben was completely confused. "Work how?" "There are governmental forces at hand working on a grand scale conspiracy. Your wife unwittingly played a small part in it and was eliminated for her efforts." "The phone call... the note..." Ben said slowly. "It was all a ruse to get me out of the house last night, wasn't it?" "I'm afraid so. Mr. Starkweather," CSM placed a cigarette in Ben's mouth and lit it. Ben inhaled gratefully. CSM took the cigarette out of his mouth and Ben exhaled, blowing great plumes of smoke. "I am a powerful man. I can stop what our government is doing." "What are they doing?" "Killing people who get in their way. People like your wife." "What was she doing that she had to be killed?" Ben felt his heart being torn to shreds. "She went to work for the X-Files," CSM said gently, puffing on the cigarette he lit for Ben. Ben hung his head. "I don't believe you," he admitted slowly. "Understandable. But let me tell you this, the people who killed your wife are coming after you. We had to stage your little kidnapping to throw dust in their eyes. You'll accept my apologies, won't you?" "Kind of hard to accept your apology while I'm still tied up like a prisoner." "Of course," CSM took off the blindfold. "Your feet aren't bound, follow me." Ben, followed the Cancer Man towards a fairly large, unused restroom. CSM turned on the light, nearly blinding him. Ben saw a small cot, a smaller table with a pitcher of water, a glass, a pack of cigarettes, matches and a plate of sandwiches and fruit. There was a skanky looking toilet in the corner and a rusted out sink. "I do apologize for the accommodations, CSM said. "But you need to stay here for a while for your own safety until we deal with the men who murdered your wife." He gently pushed Ben inside. "How do I even know you're telling me the truth about Jerilyn?" he demanded as the CSM untied his hands. "I'll bring you proof then," CSM said before hitting him hard o the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. He left Ben's new cell and shut the door tight, locking it. He turned to Covarubias who had been watching the entire time, holding a loaded gun. "Keeping alive is dangerous," she seethed. He glared at her. "He has information about the oil rig, information we need. Plus, if he decides to join us... he could be useful. The Admiral said he was a bright boy. And if not... we'll dispose of him once Mulder and Starkweather are eliminated." He approached Covarubias and took her gun away from her. Cupping her narrow chin in his free hand, he said, "You and Krycek should have never tried to trifle with me. Krycek paid the ultimate price... you... have a chance to redeem yourself." He walked away, saying "No one touches Ben Starkweather without my express permission." Marita Covarubias glared at him, hatred simmering in her blue eyes. DC Jail 11:24am Mulder was beyond pissed about the whole situation. He couldn't end it all here. Too many people had risked their careers...lives...for him to end it all here. He was rotting in jail for something he knew he didn't do, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. There wasn't even a trashcan to kick around this time, so he had to make do with his pillow. "I wouldn't do that if I was you. You might want it later, and they won't getchya a extra." "I'll, keep that in mind." He said, not even looking at who had spoken to him, accentuating each word with an emphatic punch, and keeping it up until there was nothing left of the pillow but shreds. "Jesus Christ, hombre, who you got in there?" "Aliens." He said simply with a sloppy grin on his face, waiting for his reaction. For the first time, he saw his cell mate. He was a short, scrappy man with tight curly dark hair and caramel skin. "And you a regular criminal? Keep talking like that, and they'll give you a single, keep ya all drugged up. I been here two weeks now, I think. They're needle happy in this joint." The man said, climbing down from his top bunk and taking a sip from the fountain. "Thanks for the tip...whatchya in for?" "Illegal alien." He extended a finger-tipless gloved hand in greeting. "Manny Ibarra. You?" "Fox Mulder...murder one." he answered, hesitantly taking the handshake. "I don't understand what you're still doing in the county jail then, they shouldda put you in the state penn." "They're going to as soon as my trial is over with. I'm waiting for a judge to set bail later on today." "All I gotta say is, I'm glad I'm not that pillow." "Don't worry Manny, the pillow was a different kind of alien. You've got nothing to worry about." "So you were pretending that was a Canuck?" "Uh-uh..." Mulder said, shaking his head, "a little gray man." "GAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!" Manny shouted at the top of his lungs. The warehouse 11:42 am Ben slowly came too. His head hurt like hell. With a groan, he forced himself to stand up but was hit with a bout of vertigo so he sat down on the rickety cot. Dizzy, he tried to make some sort of sense of what was going on. He was being held prisoner... but the strange man with the cigarettes told him it was for his own protection. Jerilyn was dead. He had followed a lead, but it was a trick to get him out of the house. Jerilyn had told him, begged him not to go, but she was worried about his safety, not hers. Jerilyn was dead. She never worried about her life. Ben sometimes wondered if she thought she was immortal. She had given him her gun, but he never got a chance to use it for the kidnapping happened so brutally fast. Jerilyn was dead, was dead, was dead, was... "NO," he said aloud. "I don't believe it... I won't believe it... if I believe it... I will go f*cking insane... she CAN'T be dead... she's too mean to be dead..." he ran his dirty fingers through his head and tried to breath, tried to calm down. Something wasn't adding up right. His instincts were telling him not to trust the Smoking Man. He tried to piece together was Jerilyn was trying to tell him after the third epic war they fought after he dropped the bombshell on Skinner that he was ordering the release of the oil rig X- File into public domain. "Think, Ben, think..." he muttered to himself. But he couldn't. His body was in one giant knot of stress and pain. He felt nauseous. With shaking hands he reached for the cigarettes and matches the Smoking Man had so thoughtfully left for him. But one drag only added to the sickening feeling in his stomach so he threw the cigarette in the sink and hauled himself to the toilet where he was wretchedly ill. Clinging to the porcelain god, he threw up until there was nothing but dry-heaves. He slumped to the floor and leaned against the wall. One thing he knew for sure... he was a dead man the longer he stayed. "Oh Christ..." he groaned. Then, in complete frustration and heartache he yelled aloud "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!!!!" He covered his face and spoke to himself. "Jerilyn... when I see you again... you're going to give me the biggest 'I told you so' in the world, aren't you..." He crawled back up on the cot while repeating a mantra to himself: "She's not dead, she's not dead, she's not dead, she's not dead..." It was the only thing he could think of to do to stave off madness. *************************** Meanwhile... Ben and Jeri's apartment Jerilyn woke up with a start, heart pounding in her chest, covered with sweat. Shivering, despite the heat, she pulled the afaghan quilt around her. <> she thought even though she knew she was only lying to herself. She stared at the phone, knowing that she should probably call Luke and Linda Starkweather, Ben's parents, with the bad news. But she only stared at the phone, not being able to bring herself to do it. The longer she put off calling her in-laws, the longer their son was alive for them. <> Jerilyn could not stop beating herself up, could not shed herself of the guilt that lay so heavy in her heart. <> But even in her guilt, she knew she wasn't going to quit the X-Files. Not now. If Samantha had been Mulder's quest, then Ben was going to be hers. Mulder... Starkweather's eyes narrowed into catlike slits when she even thought of his name. "I'm going to watch him BURN for this..." she promised herself aloud. But, because she was always coldly, brutally honest with herself, her alter-ego asked her bruised and hurting ego: <> "All the evidence points to him." she said aloud as she thought: <> "He's capable of murder, he's killed people before," she sneered aloud to herself. <> her common sense reminded her. "I fucking hate him," she said bitterly, staring with teary-eyes at her wedding ring. <> Still, her reason tried to overpower her emotions. "Why the hell shouldn't I believe that he did it?" her heart cried out. <> That got her. As much as she loathed Mulder, she admired Scully. Scully was no fool. Scully didn't knuckle underneath anybody. <> she told herself as she started to build up walls around her broken heart. <> Although her expertise in the X-Files was forensics, she knew she was being groomed to take over for Scully when Scully was ready to leave, she also had experience as a profiler. The X-Files gave her freedom to explore her profiling skills and she had to admit, she was getting pretty good at it. She went to the phone but she did not call Ben's parents. She called Skinner's secretary. "Kimberly, hi, this is Agent Starkweather," Starkweather listened to Kimberly offer her condolences. "Actually, yes, there is something you can do. I need every scrape of information on Fox Mulder, from when he was an acne-ridden teenager in high school up to present day... yes, I said everything... and compress it into a ZIP file and email it to me at home. Skinner will give you clearance. Tell him I'm playing profiler-for-a-day and I'm trying to figure out what is really going on. Thanks." Two hours later, Starkweather was deep into the files of Fox Mulder's life history, up to the point of his transcripts from Oxford when there was a knock on her door. She got up and let Sam in. Sam followed Starkweather into the spare bedroom that she and Ben had converted into an office. "How are you doing, Starkweather?" Sam asked cautiously as she sat down in front of the computer. "I've had better days," she said grimly. "Yeah... well..." Sam said awkwardly. "What are you doing?" "Going through Mulder's records." She said, gnawing on a pen cap. "I've been trying to get inside of Mulder's head..." "How's the view?" "Scary." Starkweather let out a big sigh. "He is one paranoid mo-fo." Sam chuckled. "That's one way of putting it." Carefully, he asked, "But do you think he's a killer?" Starkweather rubbed her eyes and propped her chin in her hands, "He is capable of murder... but that doesn't jive with the profile I'm getting from him... Mulder is very paranoid... especially about our fine government... he's almost an anarchist... the only thing that keeps him grounded is his thrist for the truth. Mulder isn't the type of guy who sweeps things under the rug to save his own ass... I don't... god, what I put together... he just WOULDN'T do this... he wouldn't... dammit!!" she pounded the desk with both fists. "All the evidence points to him... but..." Sam put his hands on her shoulders, "You don't want to believe..." Starkweather said "Look... Doggett, you were a cop before all of this... would you have slapped the cuffs on the Deputy Mayor on circumstantial evidence? We've got the word of some junkie kids and second-rate car thieves... the thieves who changed their stories from a cigarette smoking man hiring them to kill him to the Deputy Mayor. Something stinks in Denmark..." Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "You think Mulder is innocent then." Starkweather sighed, but it was a sigh of resignation. "Well, he's NOT an innocent man... but I think he's innocent of this... I'm beginning to think Mulder just pisses people off wherever he goes... myself included... Doggett... I think I'm getting as paranoid as Mulder... I'm beginning to think there's something way way bigger going on... and that we're all just getting used..." "Based on...?" Starkweather groaned. "That's the problem. It's based on my sad profile on Mulder. I have nothing else." "It's something." Sam turned Starkweather around in her desk chair. He stared down intently at her, holding her hands. "So will you help us clear Mulder's name?" "I will help as my conscience dictates," Starkweather said slowly. "If my work clears Mulder's name, fine. Great, wonderful. Peachy-keen. If not... I'm bringing him down." "Fair enough..." Sam said, kneeling down. "It's the least you could do. I mean..." Sam couldn't help but smile wryly. "You broke the man's nose." Now Starkweather couldn't help but smile. "Ben always said I was going to hurt someone with my temper someday..." she took one of her hands out of Sam's to cover her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Aw, honey..." Sam said, clasping her hand in the cast with both of his hands. "Don't get sappy," she said in a shaking voice. "I'm trying not to be." "Starkweather," Sam said softly. "You don't have to be so tough all the time." "Yes I do," her voice cracked. "It's all I have left now... just being a..." she started to sniffle "... a big, bad FBI broad... oh Christ..." she whimpered. "I don't even have the balls to call his parents to tell them the news... and Ben always thought that I was so strong... Jesus... what a joke..." "Starkweather, you just hang in there. I promise you," Sam said, "I'm going to make this right..." Starkweather pulled herself together. "I need coffee. Do you want some?" "Sure." Sam said as Starkweather pulled herself away from him and left the room. He then noticed a fat, orange lap cat crawl out from underneath the desk. "Hi kitty," he said affably. Caesar spat and hissed at him before streaking out of the room. "That's why I'm a dog person." Sam mumbled as he went to the kitchen and sat at the tiny little table. Starkweather started to brew coffee. She opened the fridge. "Um... I'd offer you food, but looks like we don't have any." "It's okay," Sam said, momentarily puzzled by her sudden Dorothy-Domestic hospitality mode. Then he realized she was trying to keep busy, to keep her mind off of her sorrow. <> he wanted to scream at her, hold her tight, smooth her pretty hair, tell her everything was going to be alright... that he would never forget her, no matter how Swiss-cheesed his memory may become in future leaps. But all he said was "Do you want me to call Ben's parents?" She was quiet for a moment. "No..." she said slowly. "No... I need to be a big girl and do it myself." She opened the cupboards and grabbed a can of Nine Lives cat food. As she opened the can, she called out. "Caesar!! Here kittykittykittykittykittykittykittykitty!!" Caesar stole into the kitchen and wound himself around her legs. She dumped the cat food in his dish and he dove in with relish. Sam said, apropos of nothing, "Your cat hates me." "My cat hates everybody." Starkweather poured coffee into two mugs, dumped heaps of sugar into one for her, but served Sam's to him black. Sam was about to object but shut his mouth in time to realize that Doggett probably wasn't the cream-and-sugar type. "Thanks," he said. "Actually," she said, her tone growing softer, "Caesar was my engagement ring. I've always loved cats, always had at least one or two of them around the house when I was growing up. Being a military brat, my pets were my security, my sense of familiarity. Of home. I was really bummed when I left for the Air Force because I lived on base the entire time I was Active and so... no pets. When I went Guard, I was commuting from Iowa City, where I was doing Med School at UNI, to the 132nd in Des Moines, where I met Ben. When things got serious, he asked me what kind of a ring I would like. I knew that he was broke... going to law school at Drake and all... I told him to save his money and we'd get a ring when we'd get on our feet. Well... Ben got a hold of my dad and asked him permission to marry me... and in lieu of a ring... what should I get her instead? Dad told him a cat. So Ben went to the animal shelter and adopted Caesar. Because my apartment didn't allow pets, Caesar lived with Ben until I finished Med School and moved in with Ben in Des Moines. Once I was in with Ben and helping him out with bills, he scraped up enough money to get me this..." She looked at her simple diamond solitaire with bright eyes, but did not weep. "I have a wedding band... but I don't wear it and we never had the money to get it sodered onto my engagement ring..." Starkweather continued, confiding as she only would to a best friend, which Sam realized, with confusing sensations of jealousy, is how she viewed Doggett. > he mused as he listened to her. "Do you know how shitty I feel right now? Four nights ago, I was at your house, talking about drawing up divorce papers and now he's gone. Forever... I can't... if..." she gulped, "the body is as badly burned as the cops say it is, it's going to have to be closed-casket... I won't ever see him again..." Sam said firmly, "Starkweather, you can not start blaming yourself for this." "Doggett," she insisted. "You don't understand. Four nights ago... hell... LAST NIGHT... I would have paid money to get Ben out of my life... I was TIRED of being married. I was tired of having to justify my actions to him. Tired of being pressured to settle down, plunk out a couple of kids, get the house in Suburbia with the rose bushes and the white picket fence. We were ALWAYS fighting. And not just about me in the FBI and that damn case... but everything. We fought about everything. About settling down. About money. I used up my GI Bill by the time I got to med school, so I'm struggling with those payments plus I'm still paying for my training at Quantico. Plus Ben and I racked up a pretty heavy duty credit card debt when we were planning our wedding.. to the tune of over three-grand." Sam whistled. She went on, "Yeah. So we've got that. Plus Ben's paying off law school and then there's the whole cost of living thing... as good hearted Ben is... was... don't kid yourself Doggett. He took the case because of the money. He was going to make over a $100 per hour." "Wow... I am in the wrong business." "You and me both, brother," Starkweather said. "But there were just other things too... stupid sh*t like... well, he's SUCH a slob. I come home after a long ass day and the apartment's trashed out... plus he would make plans and just assume that I would want to come with. Not ask me, just say "Oh, Jeri by the way, I told so-and-so that we'd meet them for dinner..." and I wouldn't want to go and he'd get mad and... god...I wish I could just pinpoint where things went wrong and go back in time and fix everything..." "That might be possible someday," Sam said gently. Starkweather sniffed. "If I could go back in time... I probably wouldn't have married Ben and he'd still be alive. I love him but I shouldn't have married him... that would have fixed everything." "Starkweather, beating yourself up is not going to solve this." Sam told her gently. "Guilt is not an effective tool in crime-solving." "But it sure is a powerful motivator. I owe Ben at least this. I denied him everything else. Kids, family life... hell, I knew he's been miserable here in DC ever since we moved here. He would have been so much happier if we stayed in Minneapolis near his family but... he put my happiness in front of his... look what it got him." She looked up to her ceiling and yelled, "BEN, YOU DUMB SHIT!!!" She looked back at Sam. "You know what the sick thing is though?" "What?" Starkweather shook her head, "If, by some miracle, Ben walked through those doors... nothing would change. I'd still be off being the 'big bad FBI broad' and Ben would still resent me for it." She put her elbow on the table and rested her forehead against her palm. "I wish I could say that I would change my sinful ways and everything with me and Ben would be bright and sunny and we'd skip off into the sunset together... but that would be a lie. I know me too well." She dropped her hand into her lap and stared at Sam with her big hazel doe-eyes. "Terrible, isn't it?" "No," Sam assured her. "It's very honest. Most people have a hard time being truthful with themselves, especially about their faults and failings. The key is whether or not you want to work on your..." he scrambled for the right words "lack of desire to be a tradional wife for Ben." Now the doe-eyes became feline again, eyeing Sam warily. "Doggett, you're talking as if Ben's still alive..." Sam groaned, realizing his slip up. "Well..." he said carefully. "We all thought Mulder is dead." Starkweather glared at him. "Earth to Doggett, come in Doggett. We've got the body. It was showing no vitals whatsoever." She bowed her head. "Don't give me false hope, this is hard enough as if." The phone rang. Starkweather got up to answer, "Hello?.... oh.... crap... I totally forget... Can I reschedule? I've... I've had a death in the family, I just... no, on second thought, I don't want to reschedule. I'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you." She hung up. "I've got to go. I completely forgot I had my doctor's appointment to get this thing-" she raised her wrist that was in a cast "off of me." But during Starkweather's phone conversation, Sam was hit by a brainstorm. "Scully!" he said aloud. "What?" "After you get your cast off, come over to Scully's place." Starkweather hesitated. "That might not be a good idea... like you said... I just broke Mulder's nose this morning..." "You know, Scully once shot Mulder in the left shoulder?" Sam said. "Really?" Starkweather couldn't help but grin a little. "Cool." "So I think she'll understand or at least forgive." Sam got up to leave. "Just come over to Scully's as soon as you're done at the hospital. I just had an idea that may shed some light on everything." "What?" "I'll tell you when you get there," Sam insisted. "I've got to talk to Scully first." "Tell her I'm really sorry about punching him out, but at least I didn't shoot him." "I will," Sam went to the door. "Hey, Papa John?" Sam turned at the sound of Doggett's pet name. "Yeah?" She had the ghost of a smile on her pale lips. "Thanks for sticking with me on this." Sam came back and hugged her. Since Starkweather has had very minimal physical contact with Doggett, she was taken aback by Sam's expansiveness. "Whoa... down, boy," she said. "Sorry," he said, breaking away, but smoothing a strand of hair out of her face. "It just looked like you need that." Even in the pits of absolute misery, Starkweather's sarcasm always bubbled forth. "Awww... Doggett... have you been listening to those Male Sensitivity 101 tapes again?" Sam smiled. "Something like that. Meet me at Scully's?" She nodded and said okay. With that, Sam left, promising himself he was going to bring Ben back to her. Even though it was going to break everyone's heart, including his own. ***************************************************** Autopsy Room Two Quantico, VA Scully, donned in surgical greens, pulled down the microphone. "The subject is Benjamin Lucas Starkweather, white, thirty-one year old male... on topical examination, it appears that Mr. Starkweather died due to third-degree burns covering 90 percent of the subjects body... also on topical examination, there is also evidence of tissue damage due to being submerged underwater for a short period of time... however I will conduct a full autopsy to either confirm or disprove my initial theory on cause of death. I am starting the autopsy with the head and throat... looking for possible foul play. Strangulation. Possible poisoning prior to death. " Scully got her scalpel and poised over the body's face. She paused, looked sadly at the remains. Remains... a woman's husband reduced to remains Al breezed through the chamber door, and began barking orders, oblivious to the fact that the project computer specialist was doing a delicate balancing act with a mother board and a toolbox. "Goushie! I want anything you can get...job and med history, grocery lists, favorite TV shows, favorite Backstreet Boy on somebody named Justin Leo, SSN 138-42- 1013 PRONTO! We had a major situation back there. Verbeena," he said, turning to a very ragged Project psychologist, "I want you to round up all the slicers and dicers we got...I need forensics to go through the autopsy reports with a fine-tooth comb looking for any discrepancies. Tina," he said, I want every possible scenario with this Billy Miles guy. Time ain't a luxury!" He spat, and went into the waiting room, collapsing into the chair behind his desk. "Admiral, I've been looking at these police reports, and there's nothing solid to convict 'im on. It's all circumstantial evidence...there's no real proof here. There's no corroborating testimony for Mulder's whereabouts except for Scully's saying she..." here, his jaw dropped, "was with him that night." Al nodded. "Before we hafta mop your tongue off the floor, between you and me, Doggett, Scully and Mulder had a thing for each other years ago, but either couldn't tell the other their feelings until...as far as I can figure...just before he was abducted." "Goddammit Al...Mulder's a jack-ass, but he's no murderer. I know he wouldn't kill anybody unless it was in the line of duty. Tell your friend Becket that if Mulder needs a lawyer I got a friend back home in Georgia named Matlock. He's a bit expensive and beats around the bush worse than Columbo, but with a case this strong, I bet he would come outta retirement." "Thanks, Doggett...but now, Ziggy's saying Mulder doesn't even go to trial. If we don't do something fast, history's gonna repeat itself. How'd you figure with Mulder and Scully?" "I'm not blind, Admiral...I think I figured out that soap- opera plot the day Scully threw water in my face. I'm just shocked she admitted it. What I don't get is how they got a warrant passed. Whatever got 'em to pass the buck on that, I ain't buyin'." "What do you know of the syndicate?" "A former conspiracy outfit that ended with the deaths of an anonymous Smoking Man and a former FBI agent named Alex Krycek." Al shook his head slowly. "Not former." "You have *got* to be shittin' me, Al...I saw Krycek's body!" "It' ain't Ratboy...it's Old Smokey...he's back." "The cat came back, thought he was a gonner..." was all Doggett managed to mumble. "You think there's someone workin' inside the police department?" Al posed, making a face as he took a long draught of strong, bitter coffee. "Damn possible." Meanwhile Back to the present The face was badly burned. The lips and nose were nothing more but a gooey mishmash of fried flesh. The right hand was burned onto the face, covering the other face, in a self-defensive movement. One eyelid was fused shut. Scully carefully cut the hand after from the face, grimacing at the noise of crusty flesh breaking apart. The other eyelid was half-open, the eye itself blue and staring, looked up at Scully. Scully stared at the eye, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. She put the scalpel down and went to the thick police file on the counter. She flipped it open and stared at the crime photographs. "On re-examination of the crime scene pictures, when the subject was recovered from the river, it was in a garbage sack. The right hand was covering the upper potion of the face, as if warding off an attack." She looked at the picture of Ben Starkweather the police used to ask Mulder if he "knew this man." "Oh my God!" Scully exclaimed! She looked at the body again, looked at the picture. In the photograph, Ben, very clearly had brown eyes. The body's one open staring eye was blue. Scully ran for her phone and dialed. "Detective Carillo." Scully stopped. "Sorry, wrong number," she muttered as she hung up. She re-dialed. "Assistant Director Skinner." "Sir, it's me. I need to talk to you. I need to talk to someone that I can trust. I think I have proof that Mulder is being set up." "Don't say anything more. Come here, quickly." Skinner hung up. Scully took out her digital camera, took pictures of the body's face and eye, put the camera back in the bag and called Quantico's assistant coroner. "Can you finish this autopsy, something's come up, I need take care of my son." She smiled. As much as she loved her son... she had to admit, he made a great excuse for a quick getaway. What we need," Scully said, putting Will down in the playpen, is to get some connection between this murder and the oil rig." "I wish I could get you clearence into something that would help, Scully...but I honestly don't know what to tell you..." "I used to know Admiral Bailey from when our families would spend the summers on Martha's Vineyard. I did some digging and found out that he's taken some recent flights there." "You think he's hiding something at the vacation house?" Skinner finished. "It's very possible...could you get me a warrant for searching the premesis?" "I'll do what I can...but remember if Kersh is in on this, he may be hesitant to issue permission to search." "We've got other avenues besides Kersh, Sir...I think if we can get into that house, we can find the proof we're looking for." "I have no intentions of transferring Starkweather, Scully, but I may relocate her to a new division. She's against its senior member because of your ties to the founder...it's obstructing the case." "Sir, I think she'll understand once we bring evidence to light that Mulder isn't guilty and I don't think there'll be a need to transfer her. She's good for the x-files." "I'll trust your judgement on that. If I'm going to get that search warrant issued, I'd better hurry before everyone goes home for the night." "Thank you for all your help on this, Sir." "Scully, off the record, I've got too much invested in you, Mulder, and that damn basement office to sit back and watch it all go down the drain now...it's as much my fight as it is yours. I have a warrant to get...and you..." he said looking from Will to Scully, "have some a--" he stopped himself, "I mean, uh...you know what I mean....Call me when you find something. Be careful. That's an order." "Don't worry, I will." Scully said, ushering him out the door. She turned on her computer, and booked the first flight the next day with the FBI credit card to Martha's Vineyard.