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Title: Ahonis Summary: A blast from Scully's past pulls the agents back into the conspiracy. This story can be found in its entirety at http://www.themajestic3.com/jeri/ahonis.txt Author's notes at the end. Prologue CNS, INC. The light was dim, not very good to read by, but Collins didn't care. His mind was so focused on the papers in front of him that he might as well have been studying them in the middle of the glorious, sun-blazing day. He scratched at the paper with his dulled pencil, slowly but surely unlocking his mystery with the key that was given to him nearly thirty-four hours earlier. Done with the third page, he flipped to the final one, glad to see that it was only a quarter-filled. He was nearly done. And when he was done, he would be able to call his men and share the good news. God knew that they could use some for a change. His tongue poked out of his mouth as though the effort of thinking took up more space in his head than he'd planned. Little did Collins know that his crew had constructed a mini shrine to him out of pictures of him in this same position: bent over the table, thinking too hard for his head. Some days his little unconscious habit was the only thing to elicit a smile from anyone. "Speak to me..," he muttered to his papers. "Tell me your story..." For another ten minutes he worked. And then it was done. Smiling for what felt like the first time in months, Collins picked up his cell phone and punched a speed-dial number at random. "He'o?" mumbled a female voice. "Sare?" There was no reason to ask for the name; Sara Stevenson was the only female programmed into Collins's phone's memory. "Marc? 'sup?" "Wake up, Sare. I'm done. I finished translating it. Rouse the boys and get your sleepy ass down here. You won't believe what it says." Twenty-eight minutes later, his crew had arrived, still wearing their bedclothes and wiping the sleep from their eyes. They stood around Collins's table, looking down at the work with high expectations; it had to be good for their leader to be up this late on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. "We all here?" Without waiting for confirmation, Collins continued: "Those papers that we found three weeks ago? With the writing? Well, I got it translated. I don't know who that guy was or how he knew the language, but it all works out fine." "Wait a sec!" Everyone turned to the young man who'd spoken. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Dex isn't here." Eyes moved to Sara. She shrugged. "I called him and he answered. He said he'd join us." Collins sighed. He wanted to do this quickly so his team could get back to sleep, but he couldn't make this important announcement with out Dex Null. Hell, it was because of Dex that they had even found the writings. "Joe," Collins said, pointing to the man who'd interrupted him, "you run over to Dex's cabin. He's probably searching for his Birks or something equally insignificant." "He probably fell back to sleep," someone muttered. Everyone chuckled. Joe nodded, resigned to his task, and ran back out of the room and into the night desert. Running did little to hold back the chill of the air; Joe briefly thought he preferred the blistering afternoon sun in terms of extremes, but thought better of it. It was easy to try and stay warm, but hard to keep cool. Dex Null's cabin was the closest one to the main building, which made his absence from the impromptu meeting all the more strange. As Joe approached the two room cabin, a heavy feeling of gloom fell over him. The lights in the bedroom were on, but Joe couldn't see Dex's silhouette anywhere in the room. Something wasn't right. Wishing he hadn't left his Bowie under his pillow, Joe carefully nudged the door, which swung open reluctantly. Preparing for the worst, he peeked inside... Empty. Joe was relieved not to see a horribly mutilated body lying prone on the bed, and even as he felt his relief he realized how silly he had been to even think that was what he'd find. Maybe Dex was just in the bathroom. Joe called out his boss's name, but got no response. Feeling braver now that he'd successfully gotten into Dex's room, Joe crossed the floor and knocked on the bathroom door. Again, no response. Curious, Joe opened the door. The body of Dexter Ames Null stared at him, mouth wide with shock. His torso was ripped wide open, as though something horrible had burst forth, a birth gone bad. Joe screamed. I. J. Edgar Hoover Building It took Scully a great deal of effort not to look at her watch as the Deputy Director droned on about the budget. The fact that the DD in charge of this meeting *wasn't* Alvin Kersh made the situation only slightly tolerable. "...and with the use of this program, we should be able to get our entire cold case and other archived files into the computer system with minimal manpower and disk space used." "In other words," Scully piped up, "it'll be easier to forget about those cases. We won't be stumbling over them anymore." Deputy Director Martin Durant eyed his agent. The recent reconstruction of the various Bureau divisions had given Durant the dubious honor of taking the X-Files under his wing. Durant could appreciate the work that the team did, but still...having Dana Scully as the SAC always made his meetings more interesting. "We don't intend to forget those cases, Agent Scully. On the contrary, this system will make it easier to use archived cases as research for hot ones. I'm sure you, of all people, know just how hard it is to go through piles of folders by hand, looking for any possible connections to any current cases." Touche, thought Scully. She didn't say a word, merely nodded and went back to doodling on her legal pad. Durant figured he was lucky to get the X-Files at this point in their existence, and not sooner as DDs Kersh and Harding did. They'd had to deal with...*him*. The FBI's personal hemorrhoid. Unlike her former partner, Agent Scully was at least capable of acting in a calm and rational manner. Didn't mean she always did, but usually she cleaned up the trouble, instead of making it. "Usually" being the operative word. A glance at the clock on the wall informed Durant that his meeting was about to run over three hours, and he'd promised Marie he'd have lunch with her in the Old Post Office Pavilion across the street. "Let's call it a day, shall we?" The roomful of agents agreed and quickly began to take their leave before the Deputy Director could change his mind. Scully took her time packing her things; Doggett and Reyes were out in the field, investigating a number of beehives that were found in several homes in a Southeastern Pennsylvania neighborhood. The X-Files division had also gotten some new software -- though the government was unaware of it -- and as it scanned the press wires it looked for certain keywords. This time the word "bees" had gotten Fox's attention. Fox stood for Frequent Observation eXamination, but Scully got the feeling the Gunmen just found some words to fit the acronym so they could use it to tease Mulder. The joke was on them: Mulder was one of Fox's biggest users. So she was alone in the office for the day, and she had no huge desire to go back down to the basement to do paperwork by herself. By leaving slowly she hoped to give off the impression that she was tired; Durant had three children of his own -- he would be sympathetic to a new mother, right? "Agent Scully? Is there something I can do for you?" Durant said. "I'm fine, sir," she said. "Just a little tired." Durant nodded. "I'm sorry you have to come to these God awful meetings; they're torture, aren't they?" He didn't wait for an answer. "If you need to go home to rest, feel free to take a few hours. I know you're not back to full capacity yet. Go home, relieve the nanny, have lunch with your kid. It'll do you both some good." It never failed to amuse Scully when her co-workers and superiors assumed she had a nanny at home or used a private daycare service for William. She'd figured that after all the years of rumors and insinuations, they'd all assume that Mulder was playing Mr. Mom. And they'd be right -- for a change. "I think I might just do that, sir," she said, as though the idea hadn't occurred to her before he mentioned it. "Thank you. What time will we reconvene tomorrow?" Durant heaved a sigh. "We'll start right at 8:30 again, I guess. I don't think there's much more than an hour, hour and a half left to go over, so it should be an early day. I might just tell everyone to knock off after it's done, seeing that tomorrow's Friday and all." Scully nodded calmly, successfully holding in the thrill that shot up her spine at the thought. She might actually get an early start to a guilt-free weekend. She couldn't remember the last time she had one of those. Even when she was on maternity leave she felt bad about her spare time, especially when Doggett and Reyes were stuck in a dingy motel room in Anywhere, USA. But they should be done in Pennsylvania tomorrow -- if not today. She wondered what her mother was doing... With a slight spring in her step, Scully left Durant's office and headed for the bank of elevators. She stepped in along with two other agents; after a brief exchange of greetings, Scully pulled out her cell phone to see if she'd missed any calls. The screen told her she'd missed only one, and she guessed that was probably Mulder, calling to see if she would be available for lunch, or if the meeting ran late, in which case he wouldn't see her until quittin' time. Even now, six months since he was "relieved of his duties" by Kersh, Mulder still hadn't adjusted to not seeing her nearly every minute of the day. Scully supposed that the fact that her maternity leave came so soon after his dismissal didn't help matters much. For him, it'd really only been two months of having her at work while he stayed at home, though she knew that even if it had been two years he'd still go through separation anxiety every morning. Mulder would insist that he saw her more in their first year of working together than he did now that they were permanently living together, with a baby and married in every way but the legal one. What Scully wouldn't admit, to herself or to him, was that she felt the same way. She hated leaving for work in the morning, a feeling she'd never felt in all her years at the FBI. Even when she was at Quantico, separated from Mulder, she knew he'd find some clever way of visiting her. Oh sure, Mulder could come by the office anytime and visit. Doggett often asked Scully to bring Mulder and William along on lunch breaks, or just have them drop in for a change of pace. But both Scully and Mulder felt it was best if he and the baby stayed clear of the FBI; Kersh may have left the Bureau, but he was still out there, reporting to someone. There was no guarantee that the new Deputy Director wasn't just as dirty as Kersh was. So, for the good of the work, they suffered. Right, she thought, we suffer so much. I'm forced to work mostly half- days and he's forced to stay home and play with his son all day. Poor us. Scully smiled widely, knowing in her heart that it could be so much worse than it was. The elevator hit the bottom; Scully stepped out in to the dimly lit hallway she'd come to adore over the past nine years. She found herself wondering what the hallway's walls thought of the things they'd seen. So many form of chaos had found their way down here... The light on her phone was blinking; she had voicemail. She assumed it was Mulder's call to her cell phone and quickly dialed into the system as she began to put together her things. "You have...two...new messages," the automated voice announced. "Message one...from phone number..." Scully smiled as she heard her home number being read. She was right. She listened as William babbled for a few minutes, then she hit the numbers to delete the message and go on to the next; she bet it was Mulder again, probably to ask her what to do with a soiled onesie or something. But the system read out the extension for the front desk. "Uh, hi Dana," said an unfamiliar voice. "Wow, it's been so long...uh, it's Marcus Collins, from high school. I, uh, I'm in town on business and heard from another old friend that you were here at the FBI, so I thought I'd, uh, drop in and say hi. But I guess you're not in right now. Anyway, sorry I missed you. But I'd love it if you gave me a call...my cell number's 480-555-8578. I'll be here for about a week, then I gotta get back to Tempe. So, uh... yeah. Hope to hear from you soon! 'Bye." Scully had sat down as soon as the caller said his name. Disconnecting from the service, but not deleting the message, she stared at the number she'd written down as a force of habit. Marcus Collins? She wondered what high school friend had known she was in the FBI. Scully hadn't been in contact with any of her high school friends since a year or two after graduation. Scully decided not to worry about his call right now. Her stomach grumbled in agreement; food was first on her To Do list this afternoon. She could worry about Marcus later tonight, or maybe after the weekend. But now she just wanted to go be with her family. II. J. Edgar Hoover Building "Monica, did you find that report in there?" She shook her head. "It's not in there. It must have gotten stuck to the bottom of Mulder's shoe when he left," she said with a smile. Several times since Mulder's dismissal, the group had found that casefiles weren't in their expected spots in the filing cabinet. It wasn't until Scully had found them in her closet at home that they realized what had become of them. "Just give him a call," Scully said. "If he gives you any lip threaten to keep me busy every weekend for a year." The three laughed; after a few long months, they were all comfortable enough with each other to make such remarks. Reaching for the phone, Doggett started to say, "I'll keep that in mind," but the phone rang and cut him off. He picked it up. "John Doggett...yes, this is...yes, she is...hang on one moment." Doggett cupped his hand around the receiver and turned in his chair to face Scully. "Dana, it's for you." She frowned as she took the phone from him. Who is it? she mouthed. Doggett shrugged. "Dana Scully speaking." "Hi? Dana? It's Marcus Collins." Scully's eyes widened. "Oh! Hi Marcus. I did get your message over the weekend; I was out of town." Doggett and Reyes began to gather their things, intent on leaving the room to give Scully her privacy, but Scully shook her head, asking them to stay. "Okay, I was wondering about that. Thought maybe I'd hit a wrong button or something." Scully couldn't help but smile; Marcus didn't seem to have changed that much since high school. "Nope, you did fine. I was in a meeting the day you stopped by; sorry I missed you." "It's fine," he assured her. "I probably should have just called in advance anyway, not tried to surprise you." There was an awkward pause; Scully smiled at her partners, who were quite obviously eavesdropping. "Anyway, um, I was hoping I could see you sometime while I'm in town." She thought about it for a few seconds. She had no idea what Marcus was calling about; for all she knew he would try to rekindle the old high school romance. They'd parted on friendly terms, each realizing that their lives were going to be taking different paths after high school, and if she was completely honest with herself, Scully could admit that if Marcus had showed up ten years ago and suggested getting back together, she probably would have taken him up on the idea. Now, of course... But that was no reason not to visit with him. "That'd be great, Marcus. Why don't you come over one night for dinner?" Glancing up, Scully saw that Reyes's eyes had gone wide with surprise. Scully waved her hand dismissively. Marcus made a funny sound on the other end of the line, as though he tried to stifle a gasp. Maybe that wasn't a smart move, Scully thought. "Um, sure Dana. That'd be great. Tomorrow night?" Scully agreed, then gave him directions to the apartment. He thanked her, and they hung up. Looking up, she found herself looking at two shocked expressions. "What?" she asked. Doggett blinked. "Let me get this straight...some guy you know from high school just calls up randomly, and you invite him to your home for dinner...and you don't even mention Mulder and William?" The indignation in Doggett's voice made Scully laugh. "Well, first of all, he's not just 'some guy from high school.' We dated our senior year." Reyes's eyebrows rose even higher. "We parted on good terms. And he said he heard that I was in the FBI from someone else from high school; I have no idea who that is, but maybe that person knows enough about me to know that I also have a son and a Mulder." The only real problem with Scully's relationship with Mulder nowadays was putting it into words. Since they had yet to be married in any state -- despite the fact that they wore wedding bands -- they really couldn't call each other husband and wife. But they both despised terms such as "lover" and "significant other." So Doggett just began calling Mulder "her Mulder," and she was "his scully." Reyes quickly picked up on it, and soon Skinner and Scully were using it as well. It became a private little joke that stayed within the division, and when other agents overheard the terms in conversation, they usually moved on with odd looks on their faces. "Maybe his source is another agent," Reyes offered. "Have you ever been to Classmates.com? I found out that two people from my high school are in the Bureau now. Not my class, but only a couple years difference. One was stationed in Baton Rouge, so we met up...found out we'd been in some classes together." Scully shrugged. "I have no clue. I've thought about registering, but I went to three different high schools in four years. I never really felt a sense of belonging at any of them." She paused, then added, "But I'll be sure to find out who told him about me, and how they knew." Reyes and Doggett recognized the end of the conversation by her tone, and let the matter drop. They all went back to working; the next two hours were spent reviewing September's expense reports, all of which were due to Skinner by noon on Tuesday. Then, just as they were about to break for lunch, the phone rang again. Scully answered it, and was surprised to hear Marcus's voice on the other end again. "I'm sorry to bother you again, Dana, but I was thinking about our conversation before, and I fear I may have sent the wrong impression." Scully frowned. "Oh?" "Yeah...I'm in town on business, and actually I decided to contact you in relation to that business. So, this isn't purely a social call...and I'm not expecting to, uh, get back together or anything..." Scully couldn't help but smile. "Oh, don't worry about that, Marcus. I guess...well, I wasn't totally honest with you, either. I should have mentioned that, uh...that I'm married" -- the word felt funny in her mouth -- "and we have a five-month old son." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Doggett nod in approval. "Really? That's great, Dana. That's really nice to hear..." Marcus sounded genuinely surprised to hear this, and again Scully wondered whom he'd gotten his information from. "Thank you." She cleared her throat. "So, you say you called in regard to some business?" "Yes, actually," Marcus said, sounding more pulled together and confident now that they were away from personal topics. "I've got a...situation...yes, a situation that I'd like to get the FBI's opinion on." "Well, in that case maybe we should meet for lunch with my partners tomorrow, instead of dinner." "That sounds perfect. Where should I meet you?" "Come on down to the Hoover Building around, say one o'clock tomorrow? I'll be up at the security desk to meet you." "Great. Then I'll see you tomorrow at one, Dana. Have a good day," he said. "Thanks, Marcus. You have a good day, too." Again, her partners were watching her expectantly when she hung up. She shrugged. "He says he has a 'situation' that he wants the FBI's opinion on. Probably not an X-File, but it could be interesting. And you can both come along and chaperone," she added with a smirk. The three were still laughing as they stepped out into the sunlight. III. J. Edgar Hoover Building For the third time in as many minutes, Collins reviewed his wardrobe and confirmed that there was nothing for the metal detector to pick up. He didn't want to set it off in front of Dana; though he told her he wasn't interested -- and he wasn't, really -- he still didn't want to embarrass himself in front of her. That had always been a fear of his when they went out, that he would do something stupid and make everyone wonder what a goof like him was doing going out with a goddess like her. As it was he was late, but if Dana remembered him at all, she'd probably expect it. Collins had been known throughout high school as an anti-punctualist. Luckily, his reputation spared him from receiving too many detentions; it was only the strictest of teachers that ever reported him for his lateness. The light changed, and he turned right onto Pennsylvania Avenue once he crossed it; the Archives-Navy Memorial Metro stop was closer to the J. Edgar Hoover Building than Federal Triangle, but the time it would take for him to switch from the Orange Line to the Red Line and then to the Green or Yellow Line would have made him even later than the walk from Federal Triangle. Finally, the awkward-looking building came into sight. One last time, Collins checked over himself. He had his shoulder bag containing the documents he wanted to share with Dana; he had his wallet with various IDs and money to buy lunch for everyone. His hair was presentable, his loafers retained a bit of shine after yesterday's buffing, and his pants were only slightly wrinkled from the Metro ride. All in all, he was aces. The security guard at the desk was a different one than he'd spoken to the previous week. For starters, today's was a woman, though a very masculine-looking woman at that. Collins liked powerful women who could kick his ass. A bit of an Oedipal Complex, perhaps, but that didn't bother him. "Can I help you, sir?" the security guard asked, her voice surprisingly light. "Uh, yes, I'm Marcus Collins, I'm supposed to meet with Agent Dana Scu--" The sound of a woman calling his name stopped him short. Turning, Collins saw her, and he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his jaw from falling. Dana Scully had been pretty in high school. Her red hair and freckles -- and that mole on her lip -- made her the subject of many a young man's fantasies. But she hadn't been drop dead gorgeous. No, there had been quite a number of girls that could very easily have beaten her in a simple beauty contest. Of course, everyone who knew her knew that she didn't give a damn about her looks; it was a rare day indeed when she showed up in a skirt or with makeup that went beyond the basic blemish concealer. But now...Marcus Collins was stunned by the woman who was approaching him with a smile. Her hair was cut short and simple, probably in deference to her work as an FBI agent. Her makeup was still minimal, but she now included lipstick and eye shadow in her repertoire. Her suit was smart and just a little bit sexy. And she glowed. It was a glow he had seen before, but not in many years. Not since his sister had it. The glow of a new mother. She did say she had a five-month old, he reminded himself, then wondered what his chances of meeting her son and husband would be. Collins wanted to meet the man who'd been lucky enough to bring this angel to Earth. "It's okay, Megan, he's with me," she said to the security guard. Megan nodded and pointed to the metal detector. "Go on through." Collins did so, and gave an inward sigh of relief as the machine remained silent. Megan then handed him a Visitor badge, which he pinned to the pocket of his shirt. His final task was to sign in, and he did so with a flourish. Megan cocked an eyebrow at his enthusiastic signature. "Thank you, Mr. Collins. Have a nice visit." Dana pointed in the direction of the elevators, and they began walking. "Sorry I'm late," she started. Collins had to hold back a chuckle at the juxtaposition. "We had a meeting with our boss at noon, but he was running late from a previous meeting that ran over...anyway, my partners are still up there with him, but he let me come down to meet you. We'll just go down to the office; the others should be joining us soon." The elevator arrived, and as Dana hit the 'B', Collins realized what she had said. "'Down to the office?' That seems..." "Unusual?" she asked with a smile. "It's actually nice down there. It's so far away from everyone else...very quiet. Though it's easy to get distracted," she added, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks. Before he could call her on it, though, the elevator stopped and opened, presenting Collins with a view of old filing cabinets in dim lighting. Dana stepped out and led him down a short hallway, stopping at what seemed to be the only door in the basement. She got out her keys and unlocked it. "Special Agent Dana Scully, MD?" he asked, reading the nameplate on the door. "A doctor and an FBI agent? What don't you do, Dana?" She grinned. "Not much, to be honest." She opened the door. "Welcome to the X-Files Division." Scully did nothing to contain her smile as she watched her old friend take in the office. His eyes were wide with childlike amazement; again Scully wondered who had told him about her job, and how much that person knew about her and her work. She let Marcus poke around the room and sat herself down behind the dominating desk. Doggett and Reyes had given a little ceremony when she "inherited" Mulder's old desk, complete with a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider -- "perfect for the nursing mother," Reyes had pointed out. Scully was only slightly embarrassed by the ordeal; after all, she'd survived a bartender serenade for her thirty- third birthday. The desk was different than it used to be; for the first time in nearly eleven years the folders and papers that sat upon it were organized in some sort of order. Instead of a single picture to remind anyone in the room of the quest that powered this office, a nice collection of photos had conquered the far right-hand corner. Those photos now drew the attention of Marcus Collins. "This your family, Dana?" he asked. "Yup." She picked up the largest frame, which held a blown up 5x7" picture of a group of people. "This was over the Summer...Fourth of July, actually. We actually all got to the same place at the same time. I do believe there were several flying pig sightings around the world." Marcus nodded, but it was obvious he didn't understand. Scully began taking him on a tour of her family, pointing out each person as she spoke. "Well, for starters, here's my mom -- you remember her, right? Dad passed away, oh, eight years ago. Don't feel bad, Marcus, we've all moved on. It happens. "And there's Bill and Charlie" -- she laughed as a look of pain crossed his face -- "I see you remember them as well. Anyway, Bill married a lovely woman -- that's Tara, there -- and they have a three-year-old son, almost four. And I just found out the other day that Tara's pregnant again. Bill's in the Navy, and until, uh, March of this year they were stationed in San Diego. Now they're in Galveston. "Charlie and Janet got married in college. They've got two boys as well, those two giants next to them. Charlie started as a Navy ROTC, but he hated it, and Janet convinced him to quit it and change schools. He's an elementary school principal now." "Where's Missy?" Marcus asked. Scully, having anticipated this question, was prepared. "Missy was killed a few years back. She got caught in a shootout near my old apartment in Georgetown." "Jesus, Dana...I'm so sorry." "It's okay, Marcus. It was rough for a while, especially with Billy and Charlie so far away, but Mom and I got through it. And I had Mulder to help, and the work..." "Mulder?" Scully grinned. "See, you interrupted me. I didn't get to the best part yet." She pointed to the last two people in the picture. "The tall, goofy-looking one is Mulder." "Your husband," Marcus said, taking the hint from the way PhotoMulder had his arm around PhotoDana. "That's one word, yes. He used to be my partner, here. Between saving each other's lives and catching bad guys, we fell in love. It's not that unusual, actually," she added, seeing Marcus's shocked expression. He shook his head. "I guess I figured the FBI wouldn't be so...you'd think with all the sexual harassment out there, they wouldn't put two single agents of opposite genders as partners." Scully shrugged. "Both of my partners now are single. John and Monica. But they're not going to end up like Mulder and me. I can tell. "Anyway...so that's Mulder, and the adorable bundle in my arms is William." "'Adorable.' That's your totally unbiased opinion, I'm sure," he teased. She reached for another photo, this one of William alone. He was lying on the floor, surrounded by stuffed animals, wearing a huge, toothless grin. "You be the judge," Scully challenged. Marcus laughed. "Okay, so he's adorable," he conceded. "Of course, I can't imagine any child of yours not being adorable." Fighting a blush, Scully quickly changed the subject. "Mulder doesn't work here anymore. We decided that he would stay home with William, while I work. I stay out of the field whenever possible, though. Less chance of getting killed when I'm stuck behind a desk." "A paper cut's your worst enemy, eh?" "You bet." Scully looked at her watch, wondering when the meeting with Skinner would wrap up. She was hungry. As though they heard her thoughts, the two wayward agents entered the room; they looked frustrated, not an uncommon feeling after an expense report meeting. Scully stood to introduce everyone. "Agent Reyes, Agent Doggett, this is Marcus Collins. Marcus, my partners." Marcus reached out to shake their hands. "Nice to meet you." "The same," Doggett said. "You guys hungry?" Reyes asked. Scully and Marcus answered affirmatively, and together the foursome headed out of the building. IV. Luziano's Italian Eatery The quartet grabbed a booth in the back of the small restaurant. Frederico Luziano wasn't especially busy this time of day; he really got going with take out at dinnertime. Five o'clock -- that's when things started getting busy. But an hour past noon on a Tuesday afternoon, the G- man and G-women in the corner were his best business yet. They were talking to that one guy -- the guy who didn't look like a fed at all -- about something that was just short of Very Important. Freddy knew that because they were all eating their ordered food. Usually when people came in to discuss something of Great Importance, they ordered a regular meal, but barely touched it. Just drank through their coffee or iced tea -- never caffinated soda, never a beer -- once and left it. Freddy never bothered to refill those drinks. So far Freddy had done a pretty good job of ignoring the group beyond their orders of food and drink. Freddy made a point not to eavesdrop on his customers, because if they ever caught him, they'd stop coming, and these little out- of-office meetings were what really kept him in the black. And so he never gave into the temptation to listen in on their government secrets. If there weren't other customers, then he would wipe the counter until it was shiny enough to be seen from the Moon, or he'd clean the floors. Any kind of casual work that could keep his mind off of the conversation. But today's clientele was different. The whole thing was being run by the non-FBI man, and he didn't seemed concerned with keeping his voice down. Bits and pieces of the conversation kept floating into Freddy's ear... "I went to the U of Chicago. Majored in archeology, minored in anthro..." "...'ve spent years studying knowns, just so I'd know 'different' when I saw it..." "...Chinese, the Egyptians, and the Mayans all just..." For the briefest of moments, Freddy considered giving in to his curiosity; maybe grabbing the newspaper and pretend to read it behind the counter. But of course, he can't. The door clinked, and a group of co-eds from the University crowded their way in. Freddy smiled, glad for the distraction. "Start at the beginning," Dana had said to him. "You said you're here on business; what do you do?" Good, he thought, an easy question. "I'm an archeologist," Collins stated. When Dana's eyes widened in surprise, he chuckled. "Yeah, go fig. Anyway. I went to the U of Chicago. Majored in archeology, minored in anthro. Dabbled in some astronomy. Because, see, I have a special focus in my job. "I'm searching for the Lost Civilization," Collins announced, a bit of pride in his voice. Agent Reyes tilted her head. "Lost Civilization? Like Atlantis?" Collins shrugged. "Not necessarily. There are theories that suggest that Atlantis is actually the Lost Civ, but I'm torn on that. There's also good evidence that Plato's account of Atlantis's rise and fall was a moral essay, and not a true tale." "But," Reyes said, "you do believe there was some sort of civilization that disappeared, right?" "Right. I'm positive. I've spent years studying knowns, just so I'd know 'different' when I saw it. And this civ *is* different. "Now, not believing in the legend of Atlantis has made my search that much harder-and also easier. And I knew it would make my findings more legitimate. Because I'm not actually searching for Atlantis specifically, I'm not bound by the only description of the civ that Plato wrote. That means I don't have to try and fit my findings to his words. That makes it easier. I can look all over the world -- that makes it harder." Collins paused to eat some of his food. God, he was hungry. "In grad school, I met up with Sara Stevenson and Dexter Null. They had beliefs similar to mine -- that there was some sort of culture that's long forgotten, but not necessarily Atlantis. There's an amazing amount of evidence to suggest that. Of course, Isolationists neatly explain away the evidence with their own definition, but that just always seemed...too convenient, I guess." Agent Doggett held up a hand. "Slow down, Mr. Collins." "Please, call me Marcus." "You're going a bit fast for me, Marcus. Now...I've heard of Atlantis. And I've heard of Plato. But what's the connection? And who are the Isolationists?" Collins nodded sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. Usually when I'm explaining this to people, they're all familiar with the basics. I'll back up. "Plato had been told a story by his teacher, Socrates. And Socrates had heard it from a Greek statesman, who heard it from an Egyptian guy. Plato wrote it down, finally. He wrote a story about a civilization, which he called Atlantis, and how they had been very advanced and lived happily. Until they got greedy. They were a strong Naval culture, and they took over as much land as they could. But tragedy struck, and their home, this continent or island, was swallowed by the sea. Presumably as penance for their greediness. That's why many believe that Plato was just trying to tell a moral story, and it had no basis in reality. Others say that he chose that story because it was true. True stories affect people differently. You read a novel about a serial killer, you enjoy it. You see on the news that there's a serial killer in your city -- or even a different one nearby, you freak out. If it happened to them, it can happen to us. That sort of thing." He paused to sip his iced tea. "Now, Isolationists are one group of scientists who believe that civilization sprang forth in different places all on its own. That the Chinese, the Egyptians, and the Mayans all just happened to develop at the same pace at about the same time. They say that it just happened that way, and leave it at that. "I'm a Diffusionist, the other side of the coin. We believe that having the various civilizations just *happen* to start developing at roughly the same time, and developing roughly the same way, just doesn't make sense. We don't believe in coincidences. So, now we have to explain the rise of civilization. The Lost Civilization is the answer. Once upon a time, there was a great and powerful culture, the only one like it on Earth. Maybe it was Atlantis, maybe not. For some reason, this civilization had an inkling of its own demise, and so instead of simply sitting around and waiting for the end to come, they set out on the seas, getting as far from home as they could. They landed in Africa, in the Americas, in Asia. And they blended into the pseudo-culture that had already formed. They then passed on their knowledge to the natives, thus giving rise to a new civilization." Collins watched the looks on the agents' faces. Agent Reyes seemed pretty okay with what he'd just said, and he got the feeling that she was a Diffusionist at heart. Dana and Agent Doggett, however, did not appear as convinced. Said Dana: "But isn't that explanation just as 'convenient' as the Isolationists'? I mean, you say you don't like coincidences, so you invent an answer, when there's really no good proof to back it up." Collins was prepared. "Dana, you liked science a lot in high school, and judging by the fact that you're a doctor now, I'm guessing you still do. I'm not saying that the Diffusionist theory is anything more than that-a theory. You know how they work, I'm sure. Newton gets hit by an apple, he makes up an explanation: gravity. He could just as easily suggested that the apple *wanted* to fall from the tree. Back then, the concept of gravity was unheard of. And Newton had to work very hard to prove it. "The Isolationists can't really prove their theory. They can't go back in time and watch nothing spectacular happen. They can't re-create the beginnings of civilization. But Diffusionists *can* try to prove our theory. We can dig for human remains. We can uncover an ancient city where there wasn't supposed to be an ancient city. Remember Troy?" With reluctance, Dana nodded. She turned to her partners. "For hundreds of years Troy was thought to be only a fictional city, made up by Homer for The Illiad. But in the eighteen...seventies, was it?" Collins nodded. "In the 1870s, some archeologist went to where Troy was supposed to be and found it." "And if one supposedly mythological city is real, why can't there be two?" added Reyes. Collins smiled. This Agent Reyes...she could be helpful, he thought. She's familiar with the basic theories and sees the sense in them. "So that's the basic background on what I'm doing. We research known archeological sites that correspond to the earliest civs we know of. And we look for similarities. We look for anachronisms. And we use those findings to narrow our search for the Lost Civilization." Dana held up a hand. "So why do you need the FBI's input, Marcus? Are you having problems digging in a particular country or something? Because the FBI isn't really the best for those-" "No, no." Collins shook his head. "See, the thing is, we don't need to do anymore research. We don't need to dig anymore. We know exactly where the Lost Civilization is. We've been digging there for the past year." Agent Reyes tilted her head in confusion. "Then why do you need our help?" Collins's eyes widened. "Because my team is being killed because of this find. And I know that I'm next." Across the room, Freddy dropped the tray of drinks. V. Luziano's Italian Eatery Doggett studied the man across from him. Marcus Collins didn't strike him as a scientist, let alone an archeologist. Marcus reminded Doggett of his fifth grade teacher, Mr. Meyer, who'd been young and enthusiastic about recess, but not the schoolwork. That's why he was the most beloved of teachers in grade school. The agent considered Marcus's final comment before the table was thrown into a thoughtful silence. He figured it was time for the man to elaborate. "Marcus? What do you mean your team's being killed because of the find?" Marcus took a large swallow of his iced tea. "Okay...about nine weeks ago, I'd had a huge breakthrough. In fact, I had proof of my theory, and I was just about to share this with my entire team. I got them out of bed in the middle of the night for it. Well, Dex -- one of my partners -- didn't show, even though Sara insisted that she'd called and he'd answered. So I sent one of the other guys to Dex's room to find him." He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a sheaf of glossies. "*This* is what he found." Doggett scooted closer to Reyes so he could see the pictures better. They were crime scene photos; Doggett wondered how this guy had gotten a hold of them. "Marcus, where'd you get these?" Scully asked in astonishment. "I took them," he said. "Wasn't easy, but I convinced the cops to let me get some photos for my own records. I told them it was an insurance thing." The photos were of a gruesome crime scene. The subject -- the former Dexter Null, Doggett assumed -- was eviscerated, lying on the floor beside the bed. There was blood everywhere, bits of flesh and tissue soaking in it. The corpse's eyes were wide open in shock and fear; his right hand was slightly raised, as though he were trying to defend himself. "What did the local PD determine from this?" Doggett said, flipping to the next picture. "The Tempe coroner determined that it was a homicide, but the TPD couldn't find any evidence to suggest who did it. They barely gave it a week, then called me and said they'd reached a dead end, they're very sorry for my loss, if I had any new information feel free to call." Doggett looked up, catching his partners' eyes. This didn't sound very professional at all, almost as though they were purposely trying *not* to solve the crime. "You said you're located in Tempe?" Scully asked, and though she sounded casual, Doggett could hear the bit of anxiety in her voice. "That's right. Well, a few miles out. I guess we're between Tempe and Phoenix." Scully drew in a breath. Reyes said, "You said your whole team was being killed." "Well, none of the younger guys. Three weeks ago, Sara was found dead." His voice was choked as he said this. "I was the one who found her. That scene looked just like this one." Marcus pulled a second pile of photos from his shoulder bag. Again, the photos showed a gruesome crime scene, the body of the young woman torn open and laid out for some unfortunate person to find. Doggett said, "Surely the TPD couldn't brush this one off as well, right?" Marcus sighed. "You would think. But they paid even less attention than the first time. They never told me to leave the scene, so I got to witness the whole procedure. Dana," he said, turning to his old friend, "they didn't even have a crime scene unit with them! They didn't take samples of blood or of the carpet or anything! Just a couple of photos and then stood around speculating for a while. And they weren't even honest speculations!" Scully reached out and touched Marcus's shoulder to calm him. Doggett wondered if this was an unconscious gesture from the time they dated. "I'm glad you brought this to my attention. By the way," she added, "not to change the subject, but who told you I was with the FBI? You never told me." Marcus smiled briefly. "One of the Tempe cops, actually. AJ Vulpes, remember him?" Scully's eyes widened. "*He's* a cop? That's a scary thought..." "Heh, yeah. Anyway...I was talking to him, figuring that since we went to high school together I could get him to tell me why no one seemed to care about these deaths. He didn't really say much, but then told me that he saw you about a year back. You were out in Arizona looking for this other agent who'd gone nuts and took off." If Marcus noted how Scully's eyes darkened, he didn't react. "He said that maybe you could use your Fed position to get some work done. So here I am." Doggett continued to sit quietly, studying the pictures. Finally he said, "Marcus, you don't mind if we keep these, right?" Marcus shook his head. "Go ahead, I've still got the negatives. They're locked in a security deposit box in a random bank somewhere in the country." Doggett couldn't hold back a small smile; he hoped Marcus would get to meet Mulder while he was in town. J.Edgar Hoover Building "So...what do we think about this?" Reyes asked when they got back into their office. Scully was already rifling through the filing cabinets. "We've seen this before," she said. "Mulder and I...a couple years ago...Ah!" She pulled out the file she'd been looking for. Doggett stood next to Reyes, and together they began to review the case. He noted that it took place sixty miles east of Phoenix, and the capital of the state wasn't but a stone's throw from Tempe. He remembered reading this file when he first joined the X-Files. This one in particular stuck out in his mind, as it wasn't signed by Mulder and Scully; in fact, it wasn't signed at all. As far as Doggett knew, this was an unofficial report. "You found a fingernail?" said Reyes. "Yes. DNA from it allowed us to make a connection between an extraterrestrial virus and junk human DNA." Doggett's eyes widened. He was used to her talking like this, and he was amused by Mulder's stories of a more skeptical Agent Scully, but this...the implications of such a connection... "That's fascinating," Reyes said. "I'm guessing from the other pictures here that you suspect the same phenomena in Marcus's case. That his partners were infected with this virus, and it gestated?" Scully nodded. "It all seems too coincidental. The same sort of macabre evisceration in the same geographical area as before? And the fact that the Tempe Police didn't make any sort of effort to solve it suggests that higher powers shut them down before they could start. "What I don't understand, however, is why Marcus's team is being targeted. He's just an archeologist, searching for something that probably doesn't exist." Reyes looked up. "You don't think it does? This Lost Civilization?" "No, I don't. I think civilization was a product of evolution, which is a self-guiding process. Natural selection. Survival of the fittest. At a particular point in human history, it became necessary for those who wished to survive to begin to try new ways of living and communicating. Maybe the tribes got so large that simple oral communication was becoming useless. Marcus is right, we can't go back and prove what started civilization, but we can't go back and prove that humans came from apes, either. Yet only the Creationists dispute evolution now, and even their voices are pretty quiet." "So you think the coincidental rising of civilization all over the globe is just natural. Ockham's Razor in action?" Doggett grinned. "You mean Ockham's Principle of Limited Imagination, right?" "What?" Scully chuckled. "Never mind. But yes, I do think Ockham's Razor can be used here." Reyes was quiet for a moment, then said, "But if Marcus is wrong, then why is someone killing his team?" VI. Dulles International Airport The airport was sufficiently busy for a Wednesday morning. Doggett had a harder time finding a parking place than he'd anticipated, and after ten minutes, he and Reyes resigned themselves to the fact that they'd have to walk pretty damn far to get to their gate. Marcus Collins was waiting for the agents at the American Airlines baggage check-in. Doggett and Reyes were both adept at packing a good week's worth of clothes into one carry-on bag, and so they had nothing to check. "Good morning, Agents," Marcus said as they walked into the airport. "Morning, Marcus," said Doggett. He then added, "It'll probably be easiest if you just call us John and Monica. Since you're an old friend of Dana's, I have no problems with a little informality." Marcus nodded. "Okay, John." Reyes smiled. "How'd it go at Dana's last night? Mulder didn't get all weird, did he?" "I, uh, I dunno. What do you mean by 'weird'?" "Well, it's not really weird for him, but...overly protective? Overly paranoid? Did he entertain you with ideas about the Lost Civilization being actually a group of aliens who were hiding out here when they were thrown off their own planet?" Doggett smacked Reyes's arm. "I told you not to buy him those Area 51 novels! Look what you've done now..." Marcus shook his head. "Actually, he seemed pretty normal. He was more interested in my stories of Dana from high school. But he did listen to the case; he seemed really, I dunno, uh, 'disturbed' I guess is the right word. Something was definitely bothering him, and Dana, too, now that I think about it." Reyes nodded. "We know what you mean, and we may have an idea about why that is. But first we need to get more information." Conversation ceased as they arrived at their gate. All three had electronic tickets to pick up, so they waited in line, then endured the normal silly questions that the airline had to ask. Doggett's favorite was, "Has anyone put anything in your bag without your knowledge?" Yes, he thought, someone *did* put something in my bag without me knowing, paradoxes be dammed. Boarding began just a few moments later, so it wasn't until the plane was in the air that they got to continue talking about the case. Said Doggett, "Now, did you and Dana and Mulder think of any reason that someone would want your team dead for this possible discovery?" Marcus shrugged. "Well, there's the obvious one: some crazy Isolationist who felt that we threatened their theory. It's kind of validating, if it's true. We've obviously got enough evidence to prove it to some of our opponents. "However," he added, "I don't think it's an opposing colleague. Isolationists are usually the bookworms -- they teach archeology classes and fill their students' minds with Isolationist propaganda." His voice had a bitter edge to it. "Why don't you teach a class that tells your side of it?" Doggett asked. "Because then I can't be out for looking for *proof*. It's all well and good to just *tell* people what you believe, but it's much better if, in a few years, I can teach the class and use my published proof of the Lost Civilization." "But," Reyes piped in, "wouldn't having actual proof kinda take the fun out of your field? I mean, once you've conclusively proved that you're right...what do you do then?" "Then we try to study this Lost Civilization. I hire a couple of renowned anthropologists and get them to interpret my findings. We try to learn what happened to them. Was it the Great Flood that's spoken of in many cultures? Or did they predate that? Perhaps they died of an epidemic not unlike the Bubonic Plague. We'll never know the entire story -- that's impossible. So we'll keep studying what we do know, refining it as we go along. It's the same as the way we deal with the ancient Greeks or Egyptians. "The Isolationists, I would imagine, would still be very interested in this Lost Civilization. They'd want to study it, too, find out if the civ actually *did* spread out at some point and trigger the beginnings of civilization in other areas of the world. I suppose it's entirely possible that the culture I've found did exist much earlier than any other culture on Earth, but that they stayed in their own area and had absolutely no effect on the rest of the world. But I highly doubt that. Where I believe this civ to be...they would need to communicate with other cultures, no matter how primitive." "Speaking of which," Reyes interrupted, "where is your Lost Civilization. You said you found it. Where is it? What's your proof?" Marcus looked around. "I can't tell you, actually. I can show you my proof when we get to the base, but I can't tell you where until I'm published. I can't allow this secret to get out. You understand, right?" Reyes nodded. "I guess so. Still...I guess I'll just have to insist that you send me an advance copy of your findings," she added with a smile. Marcus smiled back. "I think that can be arranged." Unknown Location There was a knock on his door. She was seven minutes early. "Your report?" he asked. "He's en route back to Tempe as we speak." "Fine. Who's with him?" "Doggett and Reyes; as we predicted, Scully won't leave home anymore. The anchor our colleague tossed has caught ground effectively." "We knew it would." The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "I'm trying to start," he explained when he saw her eyes widen with curiosity. "It could make everything more fun." The woman frowned. "I suppose. What do you want me to do about the situation?" "Wait until tomorrow. Then continue as planned. Contact should be made around five -- she'll be home by then, I'm sure. Skinner can't deny her anything nowadays, he'll have no qualms about letting her go home early." She nodded. "All right." She turned as though to leave, then turned back. "Is there anything else?" The man thought for a moment. "Give Agent Scully my regards, Mary." Holding back a shudder at the hated nickname, Marita Covarrubias nodded again and left the room. VII. CNS, INC. CNS, Inc. was based just outside Tempe, to the northwest. Only one road ran past the company's headquarters, and the road was seldom used by anyone other than locals. In fact, one might say that Doggett and Reyes were the first non- Tempe dwellers to see the setup in more than six years. And it was, indeed, quite a setup. Surrounding the perimeter of the property were small cabins. Nearly a dozen total, Collins explained to the agents that the cabins were available for team members who needed a cheap place to live, or who just needed a place to stay for a few nights while they unlocked the mysteries of the universe. Three of the cabins -- those closest to the inner buildings -- had been on permanent loan to the team's three leaders since the big find: Dexter Null, Sara Stevenson, and Marcus Collins. Because of the way the two leaders had died, their cabins remained empty. There were two inner buildings; both were large, one- floored, and warehouse-like. One contained domestic things, such as communal kitchen and laundry room. It also had a comfortable lounge with a big-screen TV and digital cable. The other building was work-only. It was there that Marcus and his team studied their finds and recreated dig sites. The area around the entire site was desolate, the dusty Arizona desert dissuading people from settling the neighborhood. Collins liked it that way -- that was why he chose this particular outer limit of Tempe. He didn't have to try and hide anything from anyone. He didn't have to live in fear of being sabotaged. But it had happened, regardless of his address. And it had cost the lives of his two best friends in the world. And, maybe soon, his own as well. Then again, maybe these two agents could help him out. Stop the killings and arrest the madman behind them. Collins pulled into the small parking lot between the two large warehouses. "Home sweet home," he said with a slight grin. "Where do you guys want to go first?" Doggett spoke up. "Why don't you take us to the crime scenes, Marcus? I realize it's been several weeks since the last victim died, but maybe there'll be something still there that the cops missed." Collins huffed a small laugh. "'Missed.' Right. If there's something in there that the cops didn't pick up on, it wasn't 'cause they 'missed' it. They just ignored it." The agents just stared at him. "Sorry. Uh, Sara's cabin's right over here," he said, walking towards it. "She was killed just a couple weeks ago, so that's your best bet for getting something useful from the crime scenes." The trio arrived at the specified cabin; Collins took a key from his pocket and opened the door. "There ya go. You, uh...you don't mind if I go check in with everyone, see how things are going, do you?" Reyes shook her head. "Not at all. Go ahead; if we have any questions we'll come find you." Nodding, Collins turned from the cabin and began walking back towards the warehouses. "I'll be in the one on the left," he told the agents. "Probably out in the open, but I may be in my office. Just ask someone if you don't see me." The agents agreed, and Collins began jogging away. He entered the work warehouse and was greeted by his team with the kind of affection that an athletic team's members have for each other. Casual comments about his trip or how the place had never worked better since he'd left filled the air, and for the first time in a few days, Collins felt at home. He hadn't known why he felt so uncomfortable with Dana the other night, but now it all made sense to him. In high school they'd been Marcus&Dana -- voted Cutest Couple in their senior year. It was Marcus&Dana who'd ridden on a pumper truck after their friends had nearly burnt down the woods at the base of Palomar Mountain. Marcus&Dana who decided to formally split up the day after graduation so there wouldn't be any mixed messages or hurt feelings after they went their separate ways the next fall. Marcus&Dana. But they weren't Marcus&Dana anymore. He was Collins -- Archeologist Extraordinaire, who, with the help of his sidekicks Stevenson and Null, found the infamous Lost Civilization, to the delight of Diffusionists and horror of Isolationists everywhere. And she...she was Scully -- FBI Agent/Doctor/Wife/Mother, who must have done some wonderful things herself, but he didn't have enough time to learn about them. He was C of CNS; she was Scully of Mulder&Scully. He realized he was glad she wasn't interested in getting back with him. The night after having dinner at her place, he'd dreamt a "Quis Si?" dream, as he called it. What if? What if he and Dana hadn't broken up right after graduation? What if he hadn't discovered archeology and instead sought her out years ago? Would he be the man in her life? Would he be the father of her amazing child? His dream -- though lovely as it was at the time -- now seemed foolish. He didn't *want* to know "what if?" He just wanted to live his life as he best felt it should be lived. And that's what he was doing. "So people!" he said to his team, a smile tossed lopsidedly across his face. "What'd I miss?" Doggett entered the cabin first, carefully watching where he stepped lest he disturb some crucial piece of evidence. Reyes was right behind him, and it was she who detected the odor first. "God," she whispered. "What *is* that? It smells like...John, is the body still in here?" Doggett swallowed, then moved towards the bed, looking for the body. "No," he said, "it's not. But the whole floor back here's stained with blood. We should be able to get some samples, see if this is all the victim's or if the perp left a little something behind." Reyes had brought a small kit of evidence-gathering materials with her, and set it on the dresser in the room. She opened it and pulled out a scraper and a few vials to hold the blood samples. "I'll get the blood. You go look around and see if there's anything like Dana and Mulder found in their case out here. You know, that fingernail thing." "You don't think that's what this is, do you Mon?" Doggett's skepticism was evident. "I mean, we're not going to assume that every little wrongdoing is the result of this vast conspiracy we've been dragged into, are we?" Reyes sighed. "No, John, we're not. But when there's evidence to suggest that The Conspiracy *is* involved, I for one am not going to ignore it." She leaned on her left foot and crossed her arms, pinning him with her stare. "You saw those photos Marcus took, John. Have you *ever* seen anything like that before?" After a long pause, he admitted, "Once. In that file on the case in Arizona three years ago." She threw her arm up as if to say "See?" "However, I *don't* want to go into this case with tunnel vision," he insisted. "I promise not to ignore the evidence suggesting the connection to the other case, so long as you promise not to completely disregard the possibility that the two aren't related." Reyes grinned. "I'll betchya fifty bucks I'm right." He spun the dial, listening as the tumblers fell into place, allowing him to open his safe. He pulled out the file of loose-leaf notebook paper and the crudely bound book that was his Holy Grail. Quickly moving to his desk, Collins began flipping through the pages of the book, quickly becoming at ease once he saw that everything looked the same. And his papers...a short rifling through them ensured that they too were intact. He'd done some thinking on his trip, and he wanted to re- read his discovery one more time. He put his notes back in the safe and locked it; after several months of decoding the book, he knew its symbols by heart. [Today,] it began -- [Today Endeara gave me this book. She told me to use it as a diary, in which to write my deepest, wildest thoughts. But I don't like that idea. I'm going to use this as a record. Something that may, if I am lucky, survive the perils of time and be of use to someone in the distant future. If You of the Future are reading this now, then I have succeeded, and my spirit is rejoicing.] [It must be an odd thing to read of the past. I love to hear tales of the past, but I know that they are often embellished and no longer speak the truth. I wish I were allowed to become an historian, then I would be free to read the Tales of Then at my leisure. But I must be satisfied with recording the Tales of Now for You of the Future.] [Let me start things off right. It is always nice to know who is telling the tale, is it not? I am Analie Re Argasna, daughter of Yelon and Nopena Re Argasna. I have five sisters, three older -- Nopenaga, Endeara, and Iotala -- and two younger -- Sahie and Eynay. No brothers, but I have many boy cousins, so I know that I do not want any brothers.] [It just occurred to me that you may not know where I live in the Time of Now. It is quite possible that You of the Future have different names for our country's cities. I live in the great kingdom of Ahonis, and in its capital city of Jopacna. We are the greatest kingdom ever, as of this point in Time. Perhaps You of the Future live in a greater kingdom, though I must be honest and say that I cannot even begin to imagine something better than the Great Ahonis.] [Mother Nopena is coming -- I must put this book down for tonight. Rest assured, You of the Future, that I will return to tell you more Tales of Now.] A knock on his door brought Collins out of his reverie. "Yes?" The door opened, and Joe stood there. "Sir, those agents are here. Should I show them in?" Collins shook his head. "No, I'll go out and meet them. Just give me a minute." Joe nodded and closed the door as he left. Collins sighed and carefully closed the book. "I'll be back, Analie," he whispered as he put it in the safe. "Wait for me." VIII. Tempe Police Department AJ Vulpes was the worst kind of cop. He'd had little initiative as a student in the Academy, and now that he had his position, he didn't even have that minute bit. He was the kind of cop who spent most of his patrol hours staking out the various Dunkin' Donuts of the area, the kind who reinforced all the "bad boys" stereotypes that television and the movies embellished. His current partner, on the other hand, was the best kind of cop. Doug Hummer always was paying attention to the latest goings-on in the city, and he never took an unauthorized break, be it to eat doughnuts or take a piss. Lieutenant Detective Arnold Hunt had decided to pair the two together for the first two weeks of October, in the hopes that Doug would rub off on AJ. Three days in, and it seemed that AJ was rubbing off on Doug. Hunt sighed as he looked at his two traffic-bound boys. "Guys, this is *not* why I put the two of you together," he explained with a shake of his head. "You're both down to traffic for the rest of the week." "Boss, come on," AJ said, "we didn't abandon the post, you know that!" Hunt clenched his jaw. "I don't give a flying fuck! Your car may not have moved a centimeter, but that didn't stop Ms. Wolfe from stopping by your post and distracting you. Next time, don't talk to the working girls, all right?" Doug nodded. "We're sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Again, Hunt sighed. "Accepted. Now get your asses outta here. I've got my own work to do." The cops left, and Hunt sat back down. He started flipping through some of the paperwork he had to complete before he left, but was interrupted by the intercom. "There's a couple of FBI agents to see you, sir," said Emmi Ridge, Hunt's faithful secretary. Hunt frowned. FBI agents? He couldn't think of any federal cases going on in the city. "Send them in," he said. Moments later the door opened to reveal a man and a woman, looking every bit like the Feds they claimed to be. The man was tall, with a weather-worn face; he reminded Hunt of some of the cops he'd worked with in the past. The woman seemed young, though he bet that she was older than she looked. She was pretty, he decided. Worthy of a good fuck, should the opportunity present itself. The man spoke. "I'm Special Agent John Doggett, this is my partner, Agent Monica Reyes." Hunt filed the woman's name into his mental Rolodex. "Arnold Hunt, Lieutenant Detective," he said, standing up and offering his hand to Agent Doggett. "How can I help the FBI?" he asked, turning to shake Agent Fuckable's hand, too. Agent Doggett said, "We're here following up on a couple cases that may have a connection to one from a few years ago that our department investigated." Hunt smiled. "In that case I'm more than happy to help ya out. What cases do you need info on?" He motioned for the agents to sit. To his delight, the woman sat down, crossed her legs, then leaned forward as she spoke. "We're here about the two homicides over at CNS, Inc. There was one nine weeks ago, another three weeks ago. Dexter Null and Sara Stevenson were the victims." The words "CNS, Inc." brought Hunt out of his boob-induced trance and suddenly he realized that these were the Feds he'd been warned about. These were the ones who were out to screw the government. "Don't tell the agents anything," the voice on the phone had warned. "They're going to get a warrant if you don't help them, though, so prepare some fake documents for them. They can't know what happened in those rooms!" Hunt forced his face into a look of puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I don't understand...why are you interested in those cases?" The man said, "We believe that they *may*" -- he shot a look at his partner -- "have a connection to another case in our files. If we could just see the information you've gathered on it, that'd be a big help." Hunt decided he didn't like this Agent Doggett. The agent oozed the fact that he was a cop-turned-Fed. And Hunt didn't like guys who thought they were too good for the cop business. "I'm afraid I can't help you out, agents. That case is ongoing, and I can't release information to anyone who isn't authorized." Hunt shrugged, and made a face to suggest that he really *wanted* to help them, but his hands were tied. "We can get a warrant," said Agent Doggett. "But it would be much easier if you just gave them to us now." Hunt heaved a sigh. "All right," he conceded. "But if this information ends up in the papers tomorrow, it's your ass." He turned and pulled out the sheaf of forged papers, then handed them to the agents with a great show of discomfort. "Thank you, Lieutenant Hunt," the bitch said. "We'll return these to you as soon as we can." She offered him a smile, and Hunt fought his instinctive arousal. Without exchanging farewells, the agents left his office. Hunt sat silently for nearly ten minutes, waiting until he could be sure that the agents were gone. Then he picked up his phone and dialed the number he'd been told to call. "Yes?" "They came. Two of them. Man and a woman. I gave the fakes, after being a little difficult. Told them nothing." "Very good. Now, find out where they're staying and get one of your men out there. Not following, just parked." Hunt nodded, knowing that if he disobeyed the voice he'd probably be dead. "All right." Reyes frowned as they left the police station, but didn't say a word until she and Doggett were in the car. "That was too easy," she said. Doggett chuckled, pulling out of the parking lot. "Too *easy*? You gotta be kidding me." "No, I'm not. It started off as I expected...but I expected to have to come back tomorrow with a warrant." "I'm glad we didn't have to. Now we can go over these tonight and prove to Marcus that the police are indeed following up on this, and that they've got some suspects in mind." Reyes was quiet for a second, and Doggett glanced at her for a second at a red light. "What?" he asked. "I don't think these papers are real. Like I said, it's too easy. How often are *all* the necessary papers in the same place at the same time during an ongoing investigation?" "Never," her partner admitted. "Maybe he'd made copies to do the traveling between departments." She shook her head. "No...these are all in the same handwriting, too. And I doubt that the Lieutenant is the coroner and the toxicologist and the head of the Crime Scene Unit all in one." "No, I doubt that, too. You sure it's all the same handwriting?" "Positive. Whoever drew these up has a weird way of making the loops on his J's, Q's, and Y's." Doggett sighed. "All right. So they're fake. Why would someone fake the papers?" "That's obvious. To make us think that they were actually investigating the case. There's something going on here, John. Someone's covering something up." As much as he hated it, Doggett had to admit to himself that Reyes seemed to be right. IX. Scully-Mulder Residence With a relieved sigh, Scully turned off the car's ignition and relaxed back into her seat. Another day, another early escape. She'd been silly to think that pregnancy was the most tiring experience of her life. No, motherhood during infancy -- *that* was tiring! For a few moments she felt bad for leaving Mulder at home with the baby all day, but then she remembered that her mother had offered plenty of times to take William during the day so Mulder could get out and do something. Mulder always refused, insisting that he'd already missed out on his son's first seven months -- he couldn't miss a day more. I am so lucky, Scully thought to herself, finally finding the energy to get out of the car. She sometimes wondered what she'd done to deserve such a beautiful little family. The reasons came to her very quickly, though. Sacrifices, like Emily. Sparing lives by catching killers, be they human or "other." Following the love of her life to the ends of the Earth, with only the thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd do the same for her. Their life was a fairy tale. Not the Disney variety, where everyone is always happy and only the villain is harmed. More like the Grimm Brothers, where Hansel and Gretel were eaten. Where the hero had died twice and the heroine was powerless to save him. Where sometimes, the evil did defeat the good. But even in this grisly story, love prevailed. Scully shook her head, wondering where all these fantastic thoughts were coming from. She supposed it had something to do with seeing Marcus again. It had been so long since she was confronted with the Dana Scully of the past; she wasn't certain she could have recognized that life as her own if Marcus hadn't been able to fill in the gaps. He certainly entertained Mulder the other night, she thought with a wry smile. She was just glad that she'd kept her virginity until her sophomore year of college -- Marcus couldn't share that one, despite Mulder's obvious interest in the subject. A quick scan of the parking lot confirmed that Mulder wasn't home, just as she'd expected. He'd called her at lunchtime, saying that he and the baby were going up to the Gunmen's for the afternoon, and not to expect them back until six-ish; they'd bring home some pizza if she wanted. Scully breathed in deeply, preparing herself for the unusually quiet house. After deciding that her apartment was too small for the three of them, they'd gone house hunting. He wanted something grand to show off to her family, especially her older brother. She talked him down to a more manageable townhouse in McLean; the price was still nothing to sneeze at, yet it wasn't too outrageous for a couple with an infant. The first floor held the family room, dining room, and kitchen. There was a nice patio leading to a narrow, but long, backyard that would be ideal for a growing boy. Stairs from the kitchen led to the second floor, where the master and second bedrooms were located, along with a full bath for each. The third floor was empty storage space at the moment, but could easily be converted into another bedroom, should the teenage William ever want to be on a separate floor from his parents. The basement contained the laundry area, and since it was a finished basement, Mulder immediately set up a small office for himself. Sometimes, when he needed to escape for an hour or two, he went down there and wrote. He'd joke about writing the Greatest American Novel Ever Written, but Scully figured he was trying to write a memoir that could be published anonymously under a pen name. Whatever it was, she gladly gave him that time to himself. She approached the door of #141, key in hand. As she started to unlock the door, however, she heard a small shuffling inside. Scully immediately drew her gun, nine years of being paranoid creating a reflexive response. Briefly she considered that it may be Mulder, but she was sure he was gone. He always kept his playdates with the Gunmen. Besides, she scolded herself, his car isn't here. Convinced there was someone else in the house -- someone who wasn't supposed to be there -- she quickly threw open the door, gun held at the ready. "Agent Scully," said Martia, "you're home early." Not the least bit reassured by the fact that she recognized her intruder, Scully shut the door behind her, keeping the gun trained on Marita. She didn't say a word. Marita smiled a bit. "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing in your lovely house. I'm more than willing to tell you, but can't we move to some place more comfortable?" Scully chewed the inside of her lip, considering the question. Finally she nodded towards the back of the house. "In the dining room." She suppressed a shudder as Marita casually walked to the dining room, never once asking for directions. The two women seated themselves at the head and foot of the table, keeping the largest distance possible between them. "Talk," Scully suggested. Marita shook her head. "First a few rules, Agent Scully. You will not interrupt me to ask any questions. You will not tell your partners in Arizona about my visit. You will not tell your friend Mr. Collins. You will not tell Mulder. Are we clear?" Scully nodded, realizing that Marita hadn't forbidden her from speaking to Skinner. She wasn't sure if that was done on purpose or not, but she wasn't going to question it. "It's a shame Mulder and the boy aren't here," Marita admitted. "I would have liked to have seen them. Well, no time for that right now anyway. "Agent Scully, you friend Marcus Collins has put himself in quite a sticky position," said the blonde. "He's uncovered things that have no place in the modern world. His 'lost civilization' would do very well to stay buried. You've seen what has happened because of his nosiness -- his two colleagues are dead." Scully narrowed her eyes, but didn't say a word. "We, however, did not kill them. We would have, of course, but not in such an obvious manner. My boss was quite upset to hear of their gruesome deaths. But perhaps it is poetic justice that they were killed by their own find." She was quiet a moment, allowing Scully to process that information. "Mr. Collins is as good as dead already. There's no point in trying to save him. You know just as well as I do what killed him, and you know there's only one way to stop it. And I'm not letting you have the vaccine. "Here's what I need you to do," Marita said, looking Scully square in the eye. Scully held her gaze silently. "You will instruct your partners to search Mr. Collins's office. They will find a safe. The combination is 46-29-02-17. In the safe they will find a very old book written in a strange language, and Mr. Collins's translation of the book. They will confiscate those papers and the book and send them FedEx Overnight to you. I will return at the same time tomorrow to collect those items. You will then instruct your partners to leave Arizona and you will all move on to another case." Marita crossed her arms. "Have I made myself clear?" Scully frowned. "Perfectly. What happens if I don't do what you say?" She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear the woman say it aloud. "Oh, we won't hurt you or your partners. We will simply take your son, and every day that you don't do as I have instructed, we will break another bone in his small body." Scully hadn't been expecting that, and just the mere words of the torture William would face was enough to light a fire inside her. "You *bitch*!" she spat. Marita just smiled. "I take it we have your cooperation, then?" CNS, INC. His ringing cell phone pulled Doggett away from the questioning of CNS employees. "John Doggett," he answered. "John, it's Dana. I need you to do something." Doggett nodded to himself. "Sure. What's up?" There was a brief silence, and then, "I think Marcus may know more about what's going on than he's telling us. I assume he's got an office or something out there?" "Yeah, he's got an office. You really think he's holding something back?" Doggett whispered. "I...I'm not sure. Just search his office. Look for a safe. And remember these numbers: 46-29-02-17. When you get the safe's contents, overnight them to me via FedEx." She hung up then, before he could question her further. Doggett just shook his head. He couldn't fathom an Agent Scully who didn't run on beliefs and intuition, despite the stories Mulder happily shared. However, Scully's weird ideas were on target, more often than not, and so Doggett simply began walking towards Marcus's office. Scully-Mulder Residence Marita had been gone for fifteen minutes now, and Scully finally felt comfortable enough to leave the house again. She got in her car and headed back to work. She would need Skinner's help to get to the bottom of this. X. J. Edgar Hoover Building The last five months had been some of the best in his life. For the first time in years, he felt free to take control of his own life. He didn't awake to mysterious noises in the night; he stopped studying the security videos every week. Walter Skinner was a happy man. After a two-month investigation, Skinner was cleared as a suspect in the shooting of former Agent Alex Krycek. And, somehow, Deputy Director Kersh had been found as the guilty party. Kersh disappeared before he could be brought to trial, however, and the matter had been quietly dropped. Martin Durant had been promoted into the empty Deputy Director position at Skinner's recommendation. Skinner knew that it would look suspicious if he were to ascend to the position himself. For the first time since he'd taken control of the X-Files division, there wasn't someone looking over his shoulder, directing his decisions. Skinner wasn't sure why this was true. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that Mulder was no longer on the team, not even with the Bureau. Skinner also suspected that the Consortium, the Syndicate, whatever they called themselves, was in a state of distress, and had been ever since the mass burnings at El Rico Air Base. Now that the Smoking Man was dead -- and Skinner had seen the body himself -- there had only been the rogue Krycek to lead the group. And Skinner knew he was dead, too. There hadn't been anyone else, as far as he knew, who had survived the past nine years. He felt safe. Doggett and Reyes felt safe. Scully and Mulder felt safe. They were all safe. But, despite all that, he knew when Scully entered his office that night that something was wrong. Kimberly had gone home an hour or so earlier, so Scully entered suddenly, without even knocking. Skinner was surprised to see her in the building this late; he knew for a fact she never left later than five, no later than four, if possible. She liked to get home while William was still napping, giving her and Mulder a while to talk about their days without distraction. Then the baby would wake, and while she played with him, Mulder would prepare dinner. Every time he thought of this domesticated Fox Mulder, Skinner couldn't help but grin. For Scully to come back, then, would mean something was seriously wrong. And if Mulder and William weren't with her -- "Are they okay?" he asked before she could speak, panic lacing his voice. She took a deep sigh. "Yes, they're fine. I called them on my way over. They're with the boys," she explained. "He doesn't know what happened." Skinner frowned. "Are *you* okay?" He stood up to lock the door that led to the hallway; she did the same for the door that led to the outer office. "Just a bit shaken up," she admitted, and Skinner felt a wave of relief. Not only was she okay, but also she was giving him more than her "I'm fine" line that Mulder had taught him to never believe. She plopped down onto his couch. "Take a seat, Scully," he said with a grin. She smiled. "Look, you're the only person I can tell about this. When I got home, there was someone in the house. Someone we haven't seen for quite a while." Skinner thought hard for a moment, but couldn't think of anyone -- oh wait..."Do you mean that blonde that was with Krycek just before...?" Scully nodded. "Marita Covarrubias. Former Special Representative to the Secretary General of the UN. We've never really been sure what side she was playing on; she started as an informant to Mulder, but ended up allied with Krycek somehow. So she's just as dangerous as he is -- was." With this reminder of Krycek's demise, Skinner's mind automatically replayed the scene in the garage from five months ago. He shuddered. "What did she want?" "It was in regard to the case John and Monica are investigating out in Arizona." Scully quickly explained Marita's rules, and the odd fact that she hadn't told Scully not to talk to him. "She pretty much confirmed my suspicions about the deaths in Arizona from three years ago being connected to the ones in Marcus's company. She made vague references, said that I would know what had killed those people, and that there's only one way to prevent Marcus from dying next. Then she said she wouldn't give me the vaccine. "I think it's obvious that Marcus's co-workers were somehow infected with the alien virus. And I think I know how, too. Marita said they were killed by their own find. When Mulder and I were investigating the Dallas bombing, I found bone fragments from the infected firefighters. What I need now are human bones from the site that Marcus has found." Skinner's jaw dropped. "You believe that this supposed Lost Civilization -- ?" "I'm not sure what to think," Scully admitted. "I wasn't totally convinced that Marcus had actually found a 'lost civilization', but when I find Marita Covarrubias in my home demanding that I have my partners steal some book and papers from my prom date's office safe...well, I think that maybe he's discovered *something* pretty damn important." "You had John stealing things?" "I had to. She'd threatened to torture my son," Scully admitted in a small voice. Skinner wondered if she felt guilty for her new Achilles Heel. He almost tried to reassure her by saying he'd do the same thing if someone threatened him with William's torture, but stayed silent as he saw that she'd regained her composure. "John is supposed to steal the things from Marcus's safe -- Marita thoughtfully provided the combination -- and then he has to overnight them to me. Marita's coming back to get them at five o'clock tomorrow." Both agents were silent for a moment. Skinner figured that by now, Doggett had successfully gotten the documents in question, and was probably on his way to the nearest FedEx station to send the off. Making a command decision, he walked over to his desk and pulled out a cell phone. "Sir, I'm sure they have all our phones tapped. I'm willing to bet Marita purposefully forgot to mention not talking to you so they'd know I'd come here first." Skinner smiled wryly. "Give me a little credit, Scully. I get here an hour early every morning to sweep for bugs. We're clean. And this little baby's owned by one Mrs. Elaine Meyer, a eighty-seven-year-old widow who lives in Fairbanks, Alaska." Scully raised her eyebrow. "Okay, sir...but they probably have John's phone tapped as well." His head fell back, a sigh escaping his mouth. "Scully! Please! John has one of Mrs. Meyer's daughter Angela's phones. Reyes has Mrs. Meyer's son Vincent's phone. The boys, as you say, hooked us up a few months ago, before you came back to work. Your partners take them on all of their out-of-town cases so they can be prepared for situations much like the one we're in at this moment." She smiled. "Why didn't we think of that?" Scully wondered aloud. "Actually," Skinner chuckled, "you did. These were Mulder's idea. He said that he'd considered them years ago, but figured that while he could justify going through so many phones in so few years, Mr. and Mrs. Meyer probably wouldn't have the same problem." Scully laughed briefly, then refocused on the situation at hand. "So what are you going to tell him?" Skinner was already hitting the speed-dial for "Angie" and held up a finger in a "wait" gesture. "Angie? It's Mom." Scully had to hold back a giggle, and Skinner mouthed "voice synthesizer" to her. "Did you pick up those papers for us yet? That's wonderful. Look, before you send them out to us, I think you should make a few copies, just in case. Send them to Uncle Dick, he'll keep them safe. That's right, dear." Skinner listened for a minute, then rolled his eyes. "I love you, too, Angela. Talk to you soon!" He hung up, shaking his head. "I'm going to kill Agent Doggett when he gets his ass back here," Skinner confided. Scully let out her chuckle. "Oh Walter, that was priceless! I almost wish we were being bugged so I could have a copy of it..." Skinner shot his agent a glare. "You watch it, Agent Scully. Or I'll keep you neck deep in autopsies down at Quantico for two weeks." Knowing that Skinner would never follow through on such a threat, Scully kept chuckling quietly. Offices of the Lone Gunman Jimmy was the closest to the ringing phone, so he grabbed it with confidence. "The Lone Gunman; Jimmy speaking." There was a sigh on the other line. "Jimmy, it's Skinner. Get me Langly. And turn off the tape." Jimmy gulped. He and Skinner didn't get along so well. He supposed that's what happened when you impersonated the man in an attempt to try and prove his guilt regarding being a hired hit man. He turned off the tape, then went to find his fair-haired colleague. As expected, Langly was at his console, attempting to win some computer game. Jimmy didn't really like those kinds of games; he preferred physical sports like football. With a name like Jimmy Bond, he'd had to learn how to either run or fight -- he chose to learn both. "Langly, it's Skinner." "Aw damn it! Just when I was about to be proclaimed Supreme Being," groused the unkempt hacker. "Gimme the phone. Yeah, what's up Skin Man?" "Angie's sending an Overnight FedEx to her Uncle Dick," Skinner said, ignoring Langly's use of the Forbidden Nickname. "All right. Does he need to send her a thank you note?" "Yeah...tell her to get some organic samples. If she doesn't understand, she can call her mother." "Right-o." Without another word, Langly hung up. He was about to go back to his game, but saw that his three cohorts were staring at him expectantly. "What's up?" asked Frohike. "I gotta be in Philly tomorrow. FedEx for Uncle Dick." Frohike and Byers's eyes widened. Said Byers, "Does Mulder know about any of this? He didn't say anything when he was here..." Langly shrugged. "I dunno. I'm just following orders..." XI. Koko'S Copying Center Kate Sands wasn't especially fond of her job, but it was something, at least. Of course, nobody's lifelong dream was to work at Koko's. Still, she sometimes met some interesting people here, and it was always fun to see what was in desperate need of copying at eleven-thirty at night. Tonight, she noted, there were five people trying to get important business done. None of them seemed to need her help, however, so she just sat back and watched. There was a kid, probably about sixteen or so, dressed completely in black and with chains. He had purchased a ream of black paper and was printing out something from the Internet. Kate just hoped it wasn't something like how to take out your school single-handedly. Two businessmen copied as fast as their machines would let them; some important business proposal due at nine in the morning, Kate guessed. She'd glimpsed a couple pie charts in all their papers. One of them was a regular at Koko's, but Kate couldn't remember his name. He usually showed up during more normal hours. Then there was the other couple at the copiers. Well, she wasn't sure that they were a couple, actually. They looked like Feds, though Kate couldn't be sure of that. That's how Feds always looked in the movies and on TV, at least. They were still wearing their suits and trench coats at this late hour; even the businessmen were in jeans and t-shirts. They were copying an old book and some papers; Kate wondered if it was a journal of some long-dead relative or something. They'd told her that they would be sending the originals to D.C. when they were done -- and they needed them there by four, if possible. Kate couldn't guarantee anything, but had promised to try her best. She rolled her eyes. It annoyed her when people assumed that just because she worked at Koko's, which happened to use FedEx, that she could magically get everything they needed pushed through in time. Usually the FedEx guy came five times a day: eight, noon, and four, eight, and midnight. She checked her watch: twenty-seven minutes to go. Businessman #1 finished up and approached the counter, credit card in hand. #583 Grant St. Langly sighed, wishing he could have gotten a system installed for while he waited. He was losing precious time in the online D&D game he'd been participating in for the last two weeks. Lord Manhammer didn't have that time to spare, either. Finally, there was a knock on the door. He stood up and opened it a crack, peering out at the man on his doorstep. "Yes?" "FedEx for...Richard Thicke...?" The FedEx dude's eyebrows shot up. "F'real?" Langly sighed, as though he'd been getting this kind of reaction his entire life. "Yes, for real. I'm Dick Thicke. In grammar school, I was 'Thicke, Dick' on all the rosters. The murder of my parents has been planned for years." FedExDude chuckled. "I'll bet! Well, here ya go, Mr. Thicke. Have a good day." Langly grunted in return, taking the package. It was slightly heavy, as was expected for a good chunk of paper. Without opening it, Langly went out the back door and jumped into his rented pick-up truck. He backed out of the alley and began his trip back to Baltimore. Plop 'N' Slop Reyes somehow heard the ring of the special cell phone through her shower, and she quickly jumped out, not bothering to wrap a towel around herself. After a few seconds fumbling in her suitcase, she found the phone. "Hello?" she answered. "Vinny, it's Uncle Dick. I got your package." The gruff voice surprised her. "That's great. You make sure those papers stay safe; and share them with your boys and their families." "Right. Now, you and your sister need to get some organic samples, too. You bring them back yourself." Reyes wasn't sure what he meant by 'organic samples', but she knew that once she got a cup of coffee into her system she'd figure it out. "All right, Uncle Dick. I'll see you later." The man on the other end hung up. She put away the phone, then shivered and hurried back into the shower to get the shampoo out of her hair. CNS, INC. When Doggett and Reyes arrived, the entire compound was in the main warehouse. The few women on the team -- and some of the men -- were crying, and everyone else was standing around with shocked expressions on their faces. One man, Joe Downing, Doggett remember, spotted them and came running over. His eyes were wide and red, as though he'd been crying earlier. "Agents!" he said, relief in his voice. "Oh my God, Marcus is dead!" Doggett's eyebrows shot up. "Like the others?" Joe nodded. "Mike found him this morning. Marcus wasn't here for our morning meeting, so Mike ran over to his cabin and..." Reyes put a hand on Joe's shoulder. "Where is Mike right now?" she asked gently. "He's over there. The guy in the yellow shirt." Reyes nodded and headed in Mike's direction. Doggett lowered his voice. "Joe, did anyone call the police?" "No," Joe said. "Marcus had explained to us why he'd brought you out here, that the Tempe Police don't seem to be attempting to solve the case. We all figured you'd show up here eventually, so we just all stayed in here, waiting." "Okay. I'm going to call for some help from the local field office. Don't let anyone leave, all right? Agent Reyes and I are going to make sure this is taken care of the proper way." Joe nodded. "Thanks, Agent Doggett." He walked away stiffly, as though in a trance, and rejoined his co- workers. Doggett pulled out his Bureau-issued phone and dialed the number for the Phoenix Field Office from memory. "Federal Bureau of Investigation; Phoenix Field Office. Can I help you?" "Yes, this is Special Agent John Doggett, service number A6-27109. I need to speak with the Assistant Director." "One moment please." A new voice came on the line. "This is AD Kennedy." "Sir, my name is John Doggett, my partner is Monica Reyes We're from Ninth Street," Doggett explained. "I'm in Tempe to look into some homicides, and my partner and I arrived this morning to find that there's been another one. I'd like to request some help from your office." "Why don't you contact the local PD?" Kennedy said, not unkindly. "The reason the FBI was contacted in the first place was because the Tempe Police Department was doing everything in its power to ignore this case. My partner and I have evidence of these allegations. In light of this evidence, we feel it's best to keep the locals out of this one." "All right. I'll send you a team to gather evidence and conduct interviews. Try to get everything done in one day, all right?" "We'll do our best. Thank you, sir." "You're welcome, Agent Doggett." The AD hung up without saying goodbye. Doggett put away his phone, and he began to feel the tingle of excitement that he always felt when he was on a hot case. And he knew that this one would be a scorcher. XII. FBI Field Office The team was tired after working out at CNS all day. Doggett figured Marcus would be pleased to know that the FBI came through for him in such a big way. This time, the murder wouldn't be shelved before it was solved. He thought about his conversation with Scully earlier in the day. She'd been upset, of course, to hear of Marcus's death. What she didn't seem, Doggett mused, was surprised. He couldn't really blame her -- he wasn't particularly surprised himself to hear the news. She'd told him, then, to look for organic specimens in the collection of artifacts the team had collected in the mysterious site. Specifically human bone fragments. Any that were found were to be sent directly to Headquarters, care of a lab tech Reyes was friends with. She ended the conversation abruptly, leaving Doggett wondering what was going on back at home that he didn't know about. Now, he looked around and snuck off to an empty office he'd spied earlier. After locking the door behind him, he pulled a file out from underneath his suit coat, where it had been tucked into his pants. The second copy that he'd made of the mysterious book and notes from Marcus's safe. Doggett opened the book first; he took in the foreign writing and again came to the conclusion -- as he and Reyes did last night -- that this book was from Marcus's Lost Civilization. The notes, it seemed, were the translation. He skimmed the rough handwriting, trying to get an idea of what this book was about. The first section revealed that it was a young girl's book, and that she intended to record her life for future generations to read and learn of the past. Lucky us, Doggett thought with a smile. Her entries were short, but covered many topics in one day. After reading about a dozen entries, Doggett presumed he could predict an entire week in the life of an Ahonian. Then came a long block of an entry, and from the way it began, he knew it couldn't be good: [I have not written to You of the Future for many days now. I am sorry. This is the first chance that I have had to sit and put my latest experiences down on paper. Everything began six days previous. On this day, the Earth shook with anger, and our leaders hurried to find animals and slaves for a great sacrifice.] [It happened in the early morning hours -- so early it was not yet light. The time when Nay {Goddess of the Daytime Star} lets her husband Wyke {God of the Moon} take over. There was a terrible roar, and then the Earth rumbled, as though a giant was stomping on the ground. A bright flash of light followed...and then silence.] [A few minutes later, people began to flood the streets, screaming for help for their injured family. The doctors were overwhelmed. Four young children died in my area. They were sleeping outside so they could pray to Wyke.] [Then the leaders began walking from house to house, asking for family pets or slaves. "A sacrifice must be made!" they all shouted. The gods were angry with us, and everyone was scared. By midday, there were a great number of animals and slaves, and the sacrifices began.] [I must admit to You of the Future...although my culture has held these sacrifices for as long as anyone can remember, I do not think that anyone believes they are necessary anymore. In my young life I have witnessed but 3 major catastrophes, all related to great rains and winds. In the middle of each, sacrifices were given. But the catastrophes continued despite all efforts. The gods do not want blood. If You of the Future have not yet realized this, know that it is true. The gods to not want blood! They want to be loved, not feared. Pray to them, and they will listen.] [That day's events, however, were not the will of the gods.] [By nightfall, new and fearsome creatures had entered our great city of Jopacna. They stalked us, chased us from our homes. Those who did not escape were captured, for what purpose I know not.] [Days and days have gone by, and still we flee these horrid things. Two days ago they stopped chasing us and simply released a thick, black water to find us. This water...oh this terrible water...if one is caught by it, it will render one helpless, force one to obey the creatures.] [My mother and two of my sisters have fallen victim to this evil. I fear the rest of my family will be next.] [I finish this book for You of the Future. Yes, I still believe that there will be a Future to come. Surely Ahonis cannot be the only great kingdom of the world. Surely this carrier of death and destruction cannot kill everyone on our great planet.] [Beware, You of the Future. It came once. It can come again.] That was the end. There were a lot more pages in the book, but none of them were written on. Doggett thought about some of the X-Files he'd read over the past year or so. About the mysterious black oil that's popped up throughout the world. How this oil at first seemed to paralyze people, leave them helpless. And then how it began to gestate, and destroy bodies in the same way that the three bodies at CNS were found. He smiled wryly, wishing Scully were with him. He knew she'd love to hear him connect these crazy dots. J. Edgar Hoover Building Scully strode into the crime lab, eyes searching for Agent Scott Jennings. She caught his eye and he waved her over. Reyes had been in Scott's class at the FBI Academy and had become very good friends. When he'd decided to stick to forensics, Reyes had supported him, helping him catch up in all his extra courses. She trusted him implicitly, and so when it occurred to Scully that she couldn't have the bone fragments sent to herself, she immediately thought of Scott. He stood tall behind his microscope; Scully would never have pegged him as a lab techie. She always pictures them with the dearly departed Sean Pendrell's physique: in good shape, but the amount of time spent hunched over equipment would definitely be apparent. Scott had played rugby in college and looked like a linebacker. His hands were large and beefy, not ones that should be able to fine tune delicate instruments or handle fragile pieces of evidence. But forensics was his dream job, and he excelled at it. "What do you have for me, Scotto?" Scully asked, using the nickname Reyes had let slip a few weeks ago. "Well, *Daney*," Scott returned with a smirk, "I have your fragments. And just as you suspected..." "The virus?" She was all business now. "In spades. I don't know what the hell this thing is -- and I'm not sure I want you to tell me -- but it wouldn't surprise me if it's what killed this person." Scott frowned as he stepped aside, letting Scully peer into the scope. The vision that greeted her was identical to what she'd seen in those bone fragments in Dallas years ago. "What about the fresh sample? From the deceased?" Scott nodded. "It's not as overwhelming as it is in this case, but it's there as well. And, from what I could see on the SEM-" he gestured to the scanning electron microscope "-- it looks as though they're exactly the same. I mean *exactly*, Dana. The stuff that's in this ancient bone somehow got into your friend." Quietly, Scully thought about what she'd read in Marcus's notes last night. The girl, Analie Re Somethingorother, she'd said that a black liquid was taking over her people. "Can you date the bone? Or can you tell where it came from?" Scott shrugged. "We could do C-14 tests on it to tell when, but where? That's not so easy. Why don't you ask the gang who dug her up?" Scully's eyes shot to his. "'Her'? Dug 'her' up?" Scott nodded. This is a pelvic bone, and it happens to be enough of a fragment to tell me that it's the bone of a young girl. Somewhere between eleven and fifteen, I'd guess." "Analie..," she muttered. "'scuse me?" "Nothing." Scully sighed. "Thank you, Scott. You've been a huge help. You're going to have to come over sometime so I can make you dinner." Scott chuckled. "Sure thing. Can I bring my wife?" Scully smiled. "I practically insist." Slop 'N' Plop The door flew open before Doggett could react. His eyes were still blinking away the sleep when he felt the cool metal mouth of the gun at his temple. "Don't even think about it," a man's voice growled. "Don't say a word, don't move a muscle. Listen well, because I'll only say this once. Drop the CNS case. A perpetrator will be brought to light in exactly forty-seven minutes. The Tempe Police will arrest 27-year-old Joe Shemeley, an employee of CNS, Inc. He will be put in jail for the rest of his life for the murders of his three bosses. You will quietly go back to Washington and begin to put the X-Files to rest...forever. You will have exactly a year to complete this job, the job that Agent Scully failed so miserably at. "If you do not comply with any of these orders, or if you tell anyone of this little meeting, you will be killed, your mother will be tortured for a full week, and then killed. Your son's grave will be desecrated. Agent Scully's son will be brutally murdered, as will her brothers and their family. Her mother will be convicted of those murders. Mulder will be taken again, leaving Agent Scully to go quietly insane. Agent Reyes will be killed on duty five months later. Assistant Director Skinner will find himself once again a suspect in Alex Krycek's murder, and this time he will not be proven innocent. He will become a plaything for federally convicted felons in a maximum- security prison." Finally the man took a breath. "I suggest that you decide if you want all these consequences to be brought to light. Do you have any questions? Choose wisely, you may only ask one." Doggett thought for a moment, then asked, "Who are you?" The man laughed. "I'm a dead man, Agent Doggett. But you can call me Jeffrey." Without another word, the man stepped away and left Doggett alone in the room. Epilogue Donahue Funeral Home Scully sighed. The funeral had been hard on her, a lot harder than she'd expected, if she were honest with herself. Part of it was seeing so many people from high school, people she hadn't talked to in years, and didn't really know how to talk to now. The other part, of course, was that her two lifelines, her touchstones, were back home. William wasn't ready to be taken on a long flight yet, and she and Mulder had decided that it would be best to keep them away from here right now. They both knew that someone connected to Marita had been at work down here, fixing everything by fingering a "killer" for the families of the deceased. Both Doggett and Reyes were heartbroken when the "perp" was caught; they'd spoken to Joe many times and knew, as well as anyone else who knew him, that he would never hurt his bosses...his idols, really. Doggett had been acting weird the last few days. He was very aloof. He hadn't gotten excited at all when she invited him to Mulder's surprise party that was happening on Saturday. Granted, she hadn't expected him to go nutty over the invitation, but she at least expected more than the "yeah, sure I'll be there" that she'd gotten. It was more of a brush-off than an acceptance. At least Reyes had sounded enthused... Scully's train of thought left her as she spied Marcus's father alone for a moment. With a little hesitation, she approached him. They hadn't spoken in years, and she wasn't even sure if he knew Marcus had sought her out. But he glanced up and saw her, and to her relief his eyes widened in recognition. "Dana Scully?" said Ron Collins, his hand shooting up to his mouth in shock. "Oh my word, is it really you?" Scully smiled. "It's me. It's nice to see you again, Mr. Collins, though I'm terribly sorry it's under these circumstances." "Oh Dana," the old man sighed, reaching out to embrace her. "I'm so glad you came," he mumbled next to her ear. "How did you hear about it?" She pulled back, and with an amazingly steady voice, she explained how his son had come to visit her about his co- workers deaths. "I tried to help him, sir," she said, tears in her eyes. "I swear, I never wanted this to happen." "No one did, Dana. I'm glad he found you again. He never really got over you, you know." Ron smiled a bit. "He never dated after high school. I think he was always hoping you'd show up someday. Even though you didn't stay in contact, you were such a part of his life. He became an archeologist because of you. You'd always told him he could do whatever he wanted. Everything he was, what everyone spoke of today...that was all because of you." Scully closed her eyes, letting tears fall freely. He died because of me, she thought to herself. All because of me. Unknown Location Marita walked over to the wall, taking in the immense screens and all the graphics they showed. Video feeds from all over the world exposed the goings-on of key players. Maps pinpointed locations around the globe. And a huge digital clock read: 363:13:00:05 It was counting down. The End Author's Notes: Wow. I can't believe I finished it *g* This was my first successful attempt at writing my own casefile/mythfic, and I'm amazed at how easy this entire story came to me. I loved writing from the different POVs (writing from Lt. Det. Hunt's was especially interesting), and not knowing where my next part was going to take me made the entire process really fun. I have to give thanks to Stephen King, in part. I read his book On Writing and in it he said how plot is a *bad* thing, which was a really weird concept to me. I usually like to plan out my longer fics, and then I find that I get stuck as I try to stick to the plan. This time I came up with a basic idea and just let the story flow. My first betas were all over me with questions about who people were, or what the connection to the Project was, and all I could say was "I'll let you know when I find out!" The hardest part, for me, was keeping Mulder out of the investigation. I wanted to keep this story in line with the upcoming season, which meant that I couldn't have Mulder be seen or heard, only talked and thought about. I love Mulder, and I kept thinking about how he'd want to dive headfirst into this case, but I stuck to my guns and kept him at home with the baby *g* Eternal thanks to Maeve and Brie, for getting excited for each new part and demanding more once you read it, and for the awesome beta job. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't be afraid to let me know, because: 4 out of 5 doctors say expressing your enjoyment of a fanfic to its author increases your life expectancy 23-23.8 years. The other doctor was killed by Cancerman before we could ask him. ** jeri's basement http://www.themajestic3.com/jeri.htm Ahonis" by jeri This story was downloaded from the Gossamer Project on 1 January 2018.
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