=====o=====================================================o=====

"Zurvan" by Mary Ruth Keller

E-mail: mkeller@universe.digex.net

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Chapter IV - The Daughter of Metis (Disclaimed in Chapter I)

-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

    Then, Athena, child of Zeus whose shield is thunder,
 letting fall her supple robe at the Father's threshold-
 rich brocade, stitched with her own hands' labor - 
 donned the battle-shirt of the lord of lightning,
 buckled her breastplate geared for wrenching war
 and over her shoulders slung her shield, all tassels 
 flaring terror-Panic mounted high in a crown around it,
 Hate and Defense across it, Assault to freeze the blood
 and right in their midst the Gorgon's monstrous head,
 that rippling dragon horror, sign of storming Zeus. 
 Then over her brows Athena placed her golden helmet
 fronted with four knobs and forked with twin horns,
 engraved with the fighting men of a hundred towns.
 Then onto the flaming chariot Pallas set her feet
 and seized her spear-weighted, heavy, the massive shaft
 she wields to break the battle lines of heroes
 the mighty Father's daughter storms against.

                             Homer: The Iliad 
                             Translated by 
                             Robert Fagles

-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

X-Files Offices
Second Floor
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday, October 20, 1997
6:12 am

Dana Scully slipped her key into the deadbolt, her forehead
wrinkling when it turned freely. <Someone's here already?> By
instinct, she noiselessly set her briefcase and coat on the floor,
then reached for her Sig while she knelt to check through the
crack under the door. No yellow glow had spilt out into the
hallway at her approach, only the pale white of the city lights
through her window. But if there was an intruder inside, she
needed to be as cognizant of his location as he would be now that
someone waited without. 

<That's not what I expected.> There was indeed a person in her
office, a slight willowy form slumped over the desk by the door.
<Why is she?> Still holding her weapon, she depressed the handle,
letting the door swing all the way to the wall before she sidled
in, pointing at all the corners of the outer office. The even
breathing from the woman at the narrow desk told her Cynthia was
just sleeping, not injured by a late-night visitor, or, worse,
dead. Scully took a moment to scan Mulder's office, shaking her
head at the piles of papers growing at impossible angles from his
conference table. 

Finally content, she holstered her Sig and set her bags on her
desk before kneeling by their secretary. <What was it? Her
Calculus test wasn't for two weeks, and her Chemistry class only
has a mid-term. Rosen would have said something if she was having
trouble with her Introductory Geology class.> Scully examined the
smooth round face gently, surprised to spot dried tear tracks in
the low light. Her green-blue eyes twinkled at her next thought.
<Boyfriend troubles. Oh, to be twenty three again.> Noting that
there was a floppy stuck in its slot, she reached behind the chair
to tap the shift key, then frowned. 

<What is this? A letter of resignation? Cynthia?> Finally, she
brushed the brunette's shoulder with her thumb, calling her
softly. 

Cynthia awoke slowly, her eyes focusing on Scully, breaking into
that wide toothy grin the agent knew so well. Then the light went
out of the secretary's hazel eyes, and she turned away. "Forgive
me, Agent Scully, I've done a terrible thing." 

Still kneeling, Scully shifted around to look Cynthia in the eye.
"What?" <What could possibly be wrong for someone so young?> 

Cynthia scrubbed her nose with her index finger. "I broke up with
Gil yesterday." 

Both eyebrows arched, Scully glanced at the floor before offering
her sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. But..." 

Throwing a long strand of hair that had fallen in front of her
shoulders aside, Cynthia shook her head fiercely. "No, you don't
understand." She broke into a fresh spate of tears, then hit the
calendar pad angrily with both fists. "It wasn't that we didn't
get along, or something childish, it's because of who he is." 

Scully rose. "Cynthia, tell me." 

The brunette dug through a folder, pulling out a glossy of
Lindhauer to wave at the auburn-haired agent. "It's him." Cynthia
hugged herself. "Danny sent these directly to you; he didn't go
through me so I didn't know for a while, not until you brought
these folders back from the safe house. When I saw the papers
yesterday afternoon, I knew. You don't know this, but I thought
the name Gil was our private little joke. He said it went with
some other nickname he had. I thought it was just because he liked
scuba diving." 

Scully rested her hand on her shoulder. "Tell me, does he know you
know?" 

Cynthia shook her head. "I don't think so. We'd been having
troubles getting along because he was so dark and angry all the
time, so I just called him to tell him I didn't think we should
see each other anymore. I didn't want to go back to my apartment,
and I couldn't call you and tell you." 

After flicking on the lights, Scully hauled one of their green-
cushioned armless aluminum chairs over. "So you were going to
resign and leave us?" Scully held the slight hand between her own.
"We couldn't let you go; you need our help, our protection.
Staying here was probably the safest thing you could do for
yourself." Leaning away, she reached for the phone on the desk.
"This is something the four of us need to discuss with you." 

Cynthia blanched. "You're telling Agent Mulder?" 

One hand on the receiver, the other on the buttons, Scully cocked
her head. "Of course. He won't hate you, you know. It isn't like
you've been spying on us all along for them. But we will need to
know anything you might have told him." Noting that the woman's
hands were still trembling, Scully reached out for them. "It'll be
OK. We'll take care of you." 

Cynthia nodded. "I hope so. I'm so sorry. If I had known, I
never..." 

Shaking her head, Scully spoke quietly into the handunit. "Mulder,
get in here. We have a problem." 

                            --o-0-o--

Still unshaven, his gold-dotted red tie slightly askew, Mulder
pushed though the front door of their offices to find Scully and
the other agents already waiting. Rosen was swathed in her running
tights, Nichols as unkempt as himself. But it was their secretary
that he had come to see, so it was to the woman at the desk that
he turned. "Cynthia?" 

The simple request provoked an unexpected response. The slight
brunette flung herself across the room and into his arms,
apologizing through her tears. "I didn't know! If I'd known, I
never would have..." 

Instinctively, he began shushing her, rubbing her back and
shoulders, while looking to his partner for assistance. Scully's
expression told him she was as confounded by the emotional display
as was he, so he fell back on the pallatives he used with confused
witnesses. "It's OK. Really. It's OK." 

Nichols stepped forward, disengaging Cynthia from Mulder to drape
one arm around the thin shoulders. "Come'on, let it out. You're
safe with us." 

The words provoked more weeping, then slowly, the intelligent
young woman they respected emerged to begin to conquer her fears.
"I feel like such a traitor to all of you, sleeping with the enemy
and all. After everything that you've done for me, to have let
this happen. I don't know how you can ever forgive me."

Rosen began patting Cynthia's face with a kleenex. "None of us
think you're a traitor, sweetheart, just a slight leak. Come on
into the big office and tell us all what you can." 

Nodding, Cynthia allowed Nichols to settle her into the recliner.
"I never told him anything specific," she hiccuped as she rubbed
her face again, "but he always wanted to know when you were going
to be away. I thought it was just so we could spend more time
together." 

The four agents had stationed themselves around the room. Mulder
and Scully were leaning against his large desk, while Rosen and
Nichols had moved conference table chairs to either side of
Cynthia. 

Rosen continued to hold Cynthia's hand, rubbing her palm with her
thumb. "He never saw any files?" 

She shook her head. "I know how serious what you four are doing
is, so I never took anything out of the office, not even an
address or phone number. I'd complain about the amount of
paperwork, or when something wouldn't be approved on your travel
claims, but nothing more than that." 

Nodding, Mulder turned to his partner. "So, what does this mean?
The Shadows have been aware of our movements, of specifics, all
along?" 

Scully glanced at their secretary sympathetically. "I don't think
so, Mulder. I think it's more an indication of disagreements among
them than anything else. We've been dodging wiretaps on our phones
since the section expanded, especially since our computers came
off the Bureau net. If they were getting everything they needed
from electronic surveillance," she waved at Cynthia, "this would
be an unnecessary risk, wouldn't you say?" 

Mulder chewed his lower lip, then walked around to his chair.
"More like an act of bravado, if you ask me." 

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Cynthia stared at them both.
"You mean, it was a game to him? But he said he loved me." 

Rosen collected the long brown waves at the back of Cynthia's
neck. "'Fraid so. Men will say a lot of things they don't mean."

Nichols sent his partner an odd little glance, then looked to
Mulder and Scully. Neither of them seemed to want to pursue the
matter, so he let it drop, focusing on the woman in the chair.
"You'll need to collect whatever personal belongings you want to
take with you, Cyndie." 

Mulder rose to lean over the desk. "Why don't you two go with her
while she does. Anybody have a spare bedroom for tonight?" 

Scully nodded. "You're welcome to stay with me." 

Nichols helped the young woman to her feet. "That's probably best.
My place is a wreak, unless you don't mind tripping over carboys
and kegs." 

Rosen stepped back to let the pair precede her out the door.
"Yeah, I'm still living out of boxes, too." 

The gentle banter reassured their secretary, so the three headed
for the hall. 

Scully closed the interconnecting door after she heard Rosen's key
turn in the lock. "Now what? Do we place her in the witness
protection program? We have the preliminary hearing for Saunders
beginning tomorrow."

Mulder rubbed his face. "You got me, Scully." He moved out from
behind his desk. "I need some coffee." As he passed his partner,
he checked her face. "How did you find out about this?" 

She followed him into the outer office. "She was here when I came
in early this morning. She had prepared a letter of resignation."
Scully pointed to the desk. "It's still there, if you want to read
it." 

Mulder bent over, running his eyes quickly over the patterns on
the screen. "I was always afraid of something like this. The more
people in on what we've uncovered, the greater a chance of a leak.
You think her story's legit?" 

Checking the water level, Scully sighed. "Yes. We've known her for
almost a year now. She'd have to be a really great actress to
create as complete a cover story as her presence here would have
required. I've spoken with her mother several times on the phone." 

Mulder looked over. "Oh?" 

Scully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yes, back when she
broke up with her old boyfriend, Jarls. He was from her hometown
and her Mom really liked him." She frowned at her partner. "You
didn't know?" 

Mulder straightened. "It's not the sort of detail I'd keep track
of." He rubbed his chin. "The Mom's voice was the same?" 

Scully nodded. "I learned more about the decidedly un-romantic
life of a farmer's wife in the course of those conversations than
I ever needed to know, Mulder." Her left cheek creased. "I'll bet
I could deliver a calf or two based on what she told me." 

Mulder stepped back around to the coffee-maker. "Yeah. Great."

                            --o-0-o--

Rowhouse
Capitol Hill
Monday, 8:23 am 

Doug McConnell waited outside the black door of his colleague's
home. "'Finn'?" After pacing the length of the porch several
times, he heard feet pounding across the wood floor inside.
Through the lace curtains, he saw a figure cross towards him. 

Lindhauer poked an unshaven, rumpled head out. "Oh, it's you. Come
on in." 

McConnell threw the deadbolt behind him. "What's wrong? Don't you
remember that we have that committee meeting today?" 

Still stripped down to the black briefs he had slept in, Lindhauer
rubbed his long nose. "That. Sorry. I was a bit busy last night." 

McConnell's green eyes narrowed. "What? A new girlfriend? I
thought the last one taught you something." 

Lindhauer glowered down at him. "New? I didn't know about new." 

McConnell slid out of his Harris tweed longcoat, draping it over
his arm. "You didn't fall for her, did you? I thought you were
going to break it off back in August." 

Heading back to his bedroom, Lindhauer shrugged. "Yeah, well,
sometimes a little corn gets in between your teeth and it's tough
to get it out." He spun. "Yeah, I fell for the little dairy maid.
So? It'll happen to you eventually. Besides, it's over." 

McConnell crossed his arms. "Tell me." 

Lindhauer tossed a charcoal grey Armani suit on his unmade bed,
then yanked a tailored white button-down shirt from its hanger.
"She called me, told me she was sorry my work had been bothering
me so much, but that she didn't think we should see each other
anymore." He hit himself in the chest. "Get it? She called me." He
shoved his arm angrily in the left sleeve. "I went over to her
place. I didn't know what I was thinking, but when she wasn't
there, I took it apart." 

McConnell stepped forward, dropping the coat on the foot of the
bed to pass his colleague a black belt that was draped over a
chair stationed there. "You did what?" He ducked when two black
leather projectiles flew out of the closet in his general
direction. 

Lindhauer emerged, hopping on one foot as he tugged a sock up.
"You heard me. I trashed the place. Turned over every piece of
furniture Miss Cow Pie had. Just like we did to Scully's
apartment, only better." 

McConnell's jaw dropped. <I'll deal with the anger later, after he
cools down.> "Did you at least wear gloves?" 

Lindhauer threw the question back at him, mocking his nasal Texas
twang. "Did you at least wear gloves? Of course I did. Do I need
to remind you who had the art world up in arms just over a year
ago?" He buttoned his shirt with quick, angry jerks. "I even
bashed in the doorframe to make it look like breaking and
entering." He glared at the red-haired man. "I hope she's not..."
He stuck out his gut in an obscene approximation of a swelling
belly. 

McConnell's eyes narrowed. "I hope you used protection."

Lindhauer's first answer was a long glare. "I *always* use gloves.
But still, they're not foolproof. I wonder where she ran off to?" 

McConnell walked to Lindhauer's phone, then tapped a button on the
Caller ID box. "The number's from the Bureau. She must have spent
the night there." 

Lindhauer snorted. "Maybe she called it off because she's found
that broody boss of hers better in the sack than me." The narrower
end of a yellow slip of silk slapped at his chest. 

McConnell red curls waved as he shook his head. "Maybe she finally
knows who you are." 

Lindhauer's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. Maybe. Maybe that's all it
is." 

McConnell lifted his coat off the bed. "Maybe that's all? That's
it? Do you have any idea how dangerous this game you were playing
was?" He clutched the wool to his chest. "Has she been pumping you
for information on us?" 

Lindhauer stepped into his shoes. "She doesn't have the sense to
do that. Besides, we didn't talk all that much." He thrust his
hips forward. "If you catch my drift. I never got more out of her
than when the happy crew was out of town. If I was lucky, I found
out where." He headed for his bathroom. "It's not like 'Ace'
didn't already have that information for us." 

Waiting outside the bathroom, McConnell sighed. "You hurt her, you
know." 

His face covered with white lather, Lindhauer appeared in the
doorway. "Who? 'Ace'?" 

McConnell nodded. "She thinks you don't trust her abilities
anymore." 

The water running as he shaved, Lindhauer raised his voice. "Oh?
It's not her abilities that are in question here. Just her
attentions." He jerked when the razor bit into his chin. "Ow."

McConnell passed Lindhauer a scrap of toilet paper. "Yeah. We've
managed to keep Mulder and his crew tied up preparing for the
trial and she's got money moving without a trace, but there are
other problems she needs to put her mind to, not just how to
please 'Charlie'." 

Lindhauer patted his face clean. "Now that she's no longer with
the Bureau, I thought she'd be concentrating on strategies for us.
No wonder we haven't heard from her in a while." Finally prepared,
he waited for McConnell to step back out of the bathroom. As he
collected the papers and documents he would need for a day at the
Senate, he chewed his lip. "We'll have to stop by and see how
those two are coming along with the overseas planning tonight." 

McConnell nodded, relieved that his three associates were finally
back on track. I need to tell you what the old man has been
pumping me for."

While locking the door, Lindhauer nodded. "On the way to the
Office Building. We'll need to stop by Starbucks." 

McConnell pointed to the BMW at the curb. "Nope. It's in the car.
Let's go."

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Alexandria, Virginia
Tuesday, October 21, 1997
10:03 am

Jarred Stone nodded to Saunders when he took his seat at the
defense table. The rest of the X-Files team had arranged
themselves in the first row behind him, Cynthia comfortable
ensconced between Scully and Rosen. Walter Skinner, still not
fully at ease with Phil Nichols, had slid into the spot next to
Mulder, which had sent him edging closer to his diminutive
partner. 

The dark-haired agent touched her sleeve, bringing her green-blue
eyes to his face. "Hey." 

Scully's lips twitched. "You sleep OK?" 

After twisting around to take the judge's bench out of his line of
sight, he nodded. "Yeah. This is only the preliminary hearing. I
probably won't have to testify. How's she holding up?" 

Scully's eyes flicked towards Cynthia before replying. "Oh, about
as you would expect. She's been thrown several curves over the
past few days." 

At that moment, the bailiff emerged from the judge's chambers, and
the assembled audience was called to its feet. Judge Mary Rivers
emerged to ascend the steps to the dais. 

The woman who surveyed the courtroom was white-haired, tiny,
smaller than the auburn-haired agent she favored with a nod.
Mulder and Scully had brought a few of their non-X-Files cases
into her court, and she always made it a point to recognize those
women who, like herself, refused to let slightness of stature
intimidate them. A wave of shuffling and coughing followed the
creak of her tall chair as she settled into the stiff leather
cushion. As the gravity of her office settled like a second robe
over her shoulders, she felt the slight tingle she always did when
casting off her life as wife, mother, and two-time grandmother. 
 
Judge Rivers accepted the day's schedule from the African-American
bailiff with shrunken, age-spotted hands. Those, and the wrinkles
showing the inevitable losses of youth to time, were her only
concession to her advanced years. Setting her reading glasses on
the tip of her nose, she scanned the sheets before her. Studying
the charges listed, she tapped her forehead, then raised her eyes
to the Prosecutor's bench. "Mister Pollack?" 

The bald man stood. "Yes, Your Honor?" 

Judge Rivers set her glasses on the papers. "I see Tyrell Saunders
has no prior arrests or convictions?" 

The Chief Prosecutor smoothed his Italian tie. "That's correct,
you honor." The man chosen to head up the prosecutorial team had
lost the battle to age. His hair had nearly all gone to grey and
was thinning, unlike his tall form, thickened noticeably about the
middle. His face remained lean, the sag in his cheeks and neck
emphasizing his already narrow and pointed nose, at the end of
which were balanced tortoiseshell half-lenses for reading. But the
agility of his youth remained in his slender, mobile hands,
forever twitching or twisting at one of the gold pens he tucked,
beside four others, into his grey suit jacket.

The Judge faced Stone, who had unfolded himself from his oak
chair. "Good morning, Jarred. Good to see you again." 

Stone bowed over the table. "And you, Your Honor." 

Judge Rivers then addressed Saunders. "Mister Saunders." 

The African-American rose. "Ma'am." 

Judge Rivers laid one hand on the other. "Sorry we should meet
again under such unfortunate circumstances." 

X dipped his head. "It is, Ma'am." 

As the three men sat, Rivers faced the prosecutor again. "Mister
Saunders has brought cases into this court frequently." 

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. 

Rivers continued. "So I know," she replaced her silver-framed
glasses on her nose, "or would like to *think* I know a little
about this gentleman's character. Yet I see here," she held up a
folder, "that you wish to have him held without bail. Is that
correct?" She waited. 

The Chief Prosecutor cleared his throat. "Given the seriousness of
the charges, Your Honor, we thought it only right that he be kept
off the streets." 

Judge Rivers eyed him over her lenses. "As if he were a dangerous
man?" 

Stone rose. "Your Honor, my client has no prior conv - "

She held up her hand. "You don't need to argue this case with me,
Mister Stone." She lowered her gavel to its granite sounding pad.
"Mister Saunders has been free for several months now without
embarking on some killing spree. Request for remandation without
bail is hereby denied. I'll set the amount at ten thousand
dollars." She faced Stone. "I presume that will place your client
in no financial hardship?" 

After a glance at Saunders, Stone shook his head. "None, Your
Honor." 

Facing the prosecutor, she held the long folder aloft. "I see you
have requested that the trial itself commence two weeks from the
date of this hearing? I take it that your case is very nearly
prepared?" 

The prosecutor rose. "Yes, Your Honor."

She eyed Stone. "Is that agreeable to you, Mister Stone?" 

Stone nodded. "Yes, Your Honor." 

She tapped the gavel again. "Very well. Gentlemen, I'll see you
back here in two weeks." She passed the folder to the bailiff, who
placed another in her hands. "Are council present in the case of
Walter Rickover?" 

The agents and attorneys knew they had been dismissed, so filed
out down the center aisle, Mulder and Scully hanging back until
Stone and Saunders caught up to them. Nichols and Rosen guided
Cynthia to one of the benches in the hall, waiting for the others. 

Once gathered around the slender brunette on the carved marble
slab, Stone jammed his hands in his grey wool pockets. "Well, I
don't think this case will ever come to trial, after all your
excellent labors." 

Scully arched one auburn brow. "Judge Rivers?" 

The long-jawed attorney nodded. "Exactly. I suspect our opponents
will try to come to a settlement, just to keep from arguing before
a judge whose has prior contact with the defendant." 

Saunders crossed his arms. "Nonsense. There is a hidden agenda
operating here: discrediting me and whatever evidence you have in
a public forum. That can't proceed if this never goes to trial."
He waited to speak until the Prosecutor, surrounded by his team
and shouting instructions to one of his subordinates, had swirled
past them. "There. You see they're already on the way to the Clerk
of the Court, just to make sure Judge Rivers isn't the one trying
this case." 

Mulder looked to his partner before he offered, "If you offer a
plea bargain now, and they turn us down," 

Rosen crossed her arms. "We'll have at least determined their
intentions." 

Nichols glanced down at Cynthia, who was biting the edge of her
finger. "That's fairly typical in situations like this, Cyndie. If
this were a drug trial, we'd never take it directly to court,
especially with the question of self-defense hanging over the
case." 

Scully sighed. "I think Stone is right. This case will never come
to trial, at least not here in Virginia. Since this is a Federal
Crime, and since Judge Rivers sometimes fills in on the Appellate
Courts, they'll try to move it out of the Circuit." 

Rosen walked over to stand beside her. "But for maximum exposure,
they'll need to keep the case on the East Coast, just out of the
DC area." 

Mulder rubbed his chin. "Not New York." 

Stone chuckled. "Certainly not. It would take so long to come to
trial there that their efforts to discredit us would lose all
meaning. It has to come to a less busy court." 

Mulder shook his head. "But where?" 

                            --o-0-o--

Townhouse
Reston, Virginia
Wednesday, 7:32 pm

'Charlie' unlocked the third dead bolt on his steel front door.
"Lisa? You here?" 

The muffled response told him she was in the basement, so he
trotted through the living room and kitchen to the stairs to make
his descent. 

The lower floor of their joint residence looked just like her old
apartment, with monitors, dismembered chassis, computer cards, and
software everywhere. Being something of a neatnick himself, he had
restricted the mess to this floor, where they could close it off
and relax. 

The brunette looked up from her installation, then jumped back at
a series of sparks. "No! That was my dual Pentium Pro! I *need*
that!" She glared at the fleshy man who had entered. "You
distracted me and it shorted." She began pacing the cluttered
space, pulling free of his outstretched hands. "I hate being
trapped down here all day." 

'Charlie' sighed. <This isn't working out the way I wanted.> "I
have some good news about the trial." 

She stopped in her perambulations to focus on him. "What?" 

He took this opportunity to pin her against the stair railing.
"The trial's being moved out of the area, just the way we
planned." 

'Ace' pushed her way past him. "Good. Now I just need a
replacement motherboard and Lord knows what else." 

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "OK. We can stop by
Microcenter when we go out for dinner." 

She pushed him away. "You must be kidding me. We can't afford to
eat out like this! With the wedding coming up, we need to save all
the money we can. And with this," she extended her arm, anti-
static cable swinging from her wrist, "we'll be spending several
hundred dollars for a replacement." 

He waved the objection away. "Oh, that. The Organization will pay
for it, no problem." 

The cable whipping through the air, she crossed her arms. "No! I
need to order something tonight! My credit card is nearly maxed
out with," she sneered her frustration, "flowers and taffeta, so I
can't buy one. What about yours?" 

He stared at the floor despondently. "I had a surprise picked out
for you." 

She threw the wristband to the floor. "Drew! The Singapore banks
have upgraded their computer security systems. I'll be working
through the night to crack their new codes and I was counting on
having the processor power of that board to do the job. With my
access to the Bureau machines terminated, that," she pointed
again, "was all I had! Now, are you going to help me or not?" 

'Charlie' glared. "OK. I'll call 'Andrew'. He's such a tightwad
I'll bet his cards have never been used." 

Tapping her foot, she watched him dial, then hang up. "Well?" 

He shrugged. "He's not home yet." 

She stomped for the stairs. "Then neither am I." She was out the
front door before he could catch her. 

                            --o-0-o--

X-Files Offices
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
Thursday, October 23, 1997
2:27 pm

Holding one long, bony hand by the wrist with the other, Jarred
Stone stood politely in the aisle between Cynthia's and Scully's
desk. The office had been empty upon his arrival, but not locked.
He turned when he heard Scully's quick, precise steps ringing down
the tiled halls.

The agent smiled when she spotted the loose-limbed attorney,
looking like a schoolboy waiting in the Principal's foyer. "Stone?
What brings you here?" 

A thick folder still in his hand, Mulder poked his head through
his office door. "Jarred? How long have you been out there?" He
dropped the papers on the recliner and stepped out, pushing down
his sleeves. "You should have poured yourself some coffee, at
least."

Stone bowed his head apologetically. "Well," he drew the word out
into his longest drawl, "I have good news and bad news, my
friends." 

Mulder reached for an extra mug, putting it down at a shake from a
long head. "Go on." 

Scully leaned against Cynthia's desk. "The trial's been moved." 

Stone nodded. "Yep. That was my good news. We'd figured out their
strategy too perfectly." 

Mulder spread his hands. "Where?" 

Stone shrugged. "Pittsburgh." 

Scully crossed her arms. "When?" 

The lanky attorney scraped the heel of one black Gucci across the
tiled floor. "Monday." He waited for outbursts of surprise that
never came. 

Instead, Scully was punching numbers into the phone on Cynthia's
desk, relaying the bare information to Rosen, followed by
instructions to bring Nichols and herself upstairs. 

Mulder touched Stone's elbow. "How did they get the slot on the
docket open so fast? I thought you said we could expect next
month?" 

Stone smiled sadly. "I have to agree with Mister Saunders. This
hornet's nest of an Organization you've managed to land a rock on
really wants this over with, and soon." 

Mulder looked over at his partner. "I wonder what they have
planned?"
 
                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Wednesday, October 29, 1997
5:17 pm 

Mulder glanced over at his partner as they descended the
courthouse steps. "You OK?" 

She scrubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. "Sure. I hate this
stage of a case." 

Since they had reached the street level, he touched her elbow to
guide her to the back lot where he had parked their rental.
"You're not the only one. Did you see how irritated Saunders was?" 

She nodded. "Yes. He's as bored as you and I are, no doubt,
especially since he's not the one questioning the prospective
jurors." 

They pushed their way around bare-branched shrubs to step onto the
asphalt of the lot. Mulder squinted into the glare of the
streetlights, then smirked as Scully pointed out their Taurus. 

She tossed her head. "I think Stone's small-town lawyer act is
beginning to get on his nerves." When Mulder's cel phone began
buzzing, she stared down at the inner pocket of his long coat.

His forehead wrinkling, he placed the small black unit on his ear.
"Mulder."

She stopped him with a hand on his arm, watching his face as he
listened. 

He mouthed 'the guys' before he responded. "Now, Fro, you know
juror records are confidential." 

She adjusted the strap on her laptop carrying case. "They got into
the courthouse records?" 

He nodded both to her and to his caller. "OK. When we're at the
hotel, Scully'll return the favor." He terminated the
conversation, then looked down at her while he pocketed the phone.
"Doctor, you won't believe this, but..."

She tipped her head. "I'm not sure I want to know." 

He touched her back, pointing her towards the Taurus again. "They
broke into the city records, somehow came up with a list of
eligible jurors for this year, and cross-referenced it against
those who have already served on a jury." He bent to unlock the
passenger door. 

She clutched the laptop to her chest. "And?"

Stepping back, he walked around to the driver's side of the car to
sit before he responded. "You expect there to be an 'And',
Scully?" 

She adjusted her seat belt. "Of course." 

The engine turned over. "They've compared the names against the
members of right-wing organizations, among others, in the area, so
we have a list of men and women to avoid." 

She nodded. "That's all we can hope for, Mulder. Stone's strategy
will have to do the rest." 

He backed the car out. "Yeah. Although the Prosecution's been
striking any witness with a college degree. Nichols was right that
their strategy would be try to make it an open and shut murder
trial. They're hoping the jury will get lost in our mass of
evidence." 

Scully glanced both ways down the street, checking instinctively
for clear lanes. "So much of this case involves standard
procedures stood on end. Usually the appeal to emotion comes from
the defense." 

Mulder guided the navy-blue sedan into the left-most lane. After a
few blocks, he glanced in his rear-view mirror and groaned. A
police cruiser had pulled up behind him, lights flashing, but
minus the leaving off the disturbance of a siren. "I wonder what
he wants, Scully? The speed limit's what, thirty-five through
here?" 

She checked behind her. "You were nowhere near that. You be a good
little G-man and pull over, Mulder."

He glanced at her. "Yes, Sergeant Lucy."

                            --o-0-o--

The agents waited, ID's at the ready, while two officers
approached the Taurus. Mulder glanced at his partner. "Ooh, the
one on my side looks pretty good, Doctor, hold that badge up where
he can read your phone number." 

After a quick roll of her eyes, she twisted around to get a clear
view. "I don't like this, Mulder." 

He was turning to check when they heard weapons snapping against
leather. 

The officer on his side shouted. "Exit your vehicles slowly and
keep your hands where I can see them!" 

Scully reached for the door handle. "Somehow, I don't think my
phone number will pacify him, Mulder." 

The agents held their badges aloft, shouting their ID's and
affiliations. 

The muscle-bound man behind Mulder began growing, changing before
their eyes. When he froze, a familiar steel-jawed visage faced
them, and the second officer had assumed the rounded form they had
once known as Luther. 

Scully walked slowly around the front of the Taurus to join her
partner. 

Without acknowledging her, Mulder quipped dryly. "I always
wondered how David Banner kept those pants from ripping off. Now I
know." 

Momentarily at a loss, Pilot shook his head, then grew slightly
taller as he glowered at the dark-haired agent. "I have no time
for games. We are here because we need your help." 

Scully checked Luther, who was morphing into a canopy over their
Taurus, shading the three from onlookers. "Oh? The last we knew,
the five of you were on your way to Africa." 

Pilot shook his head. "That is not important. You simians have a
saying: 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' This Organization we
would both like to see eliminated is on the brink of success in an
experiment that will change your species irreparably. That we
cannot allow. Give us the locations of the bases in Africa so we
can put a halt to this madness." 

Mulder shrugged. "If we had the locations, we certainly wouldn't
give them to you. How do we know you wouldn't just use whatever
they've found to begin your plan for population reduction?" 

Pilot shook Scully by the arm. "You, at least, should be able to
understand what interests us." 

Scully bit her lower lip as she thought. "They've overcome the
problems with different numbers of chromosomes to produce viable
human-chimpanzee hybrids, haven't they?" 

Attempting to push the Pilot away from his partner, Mulder reached
out, but found himself blocked by an amorphous appendage that
emerged from the canopy. "Scully, don't give them any
information." 

Pilot released her. "According to the ancients, it is as you say.
You simians have a long history of enhancing certain pre-existing
characteristics of captive species for your own purposes. That
would not violate our laws and ethics. You also know to insert
genetic materials from one species into the sequences of another.
Nor is that an affront to our principles, and those by which every
intelligent race should live. But, this effort is not one among
those. Already vast areas of their habitat have been destroyed,
feeding your lust for mastery of your environment. This experiment
would be the beginning of the end for yet another group of near-
sentient residents of your planet. If those, as you say, apes,
were fully your equal, we would step out of the way and allow you
to battle each other to mutual extinction." 

Struggling to push past the barrier, Mulder shouted. "Who are you
to act as evolutionary policemen?" He grunted as an appendage
threw him against the pulsating parchment-colored barrier.

Glaring at the dark-haired agent, the shape-shifter grew a little
taller. "Conflict is an unpleasant side-effect of sentience for
which all should prepare. But to exterminate a species on the
threshold of achieving higher intelligence is anathema to us. We
need to know the locations of the bases to put a stop to their
research." 

Scully shook her head. "How do you know the results of their work
if you don't know where they are taking place?" 

The Pilot had curled over Scully until he looked like a question
mark. "Do you think you are the only adversaries the Consortium
has? Do you think you are the only ones to whom we can turn?" He
eyed Mulder, now wrapped from chin to ankles in what looked like
an opaque tongue. "Your allies are closer than you think, bound to
you in ways you do not expect, if hidden from you." He focused on
the auburn-haired woman. "So you will not give us the locations of
the bases?" 

Scully clenched her fists at her side. "We don't *have* the
locations of the bases." 

While glaring down at her, the Pilot morphed into a slender white
reed, taller even than his human form, with three waving antennae
at the top. 

Scully backed away from whatever the shape-shifter had become. "We
don't have the information you seek. If we did, we'd have checked
it out ourselves." 

At this, the alien resumed its familiar shape, then spoke in
several high-pitched clicks and whistles. The canopy reformed into
Luther, then they returned to the shapes of the two policemen who
had stopped them originally. With no further acknowledgement of
the agents' presence, the aliens returned to the cruiser and
departed. 

Mulder was patting his chest and hips when Scully turned to check
him. "I'm OK, Scully, I've just been given the massage of my
dreams." 

Her face a porcelain mask, she had stripped him of his tweed
longcoat and charcoal suit jacket before he could emit a squeak of
protest. "Hold still, Mulder, you've not been keeping up on the
physical therapy the way you should." She stood behind him, her
tiny fingers pressing in to outline his scapula. 

He tried to twist to face her <I'm really OK!>, but she held his
arms, so he called back. "If you'd found a better looking
therapist for me, I might have, Scully." 

Finished with her probing, she stepped around to focus on his
clavicle, her pinching motions wrinkling the soft cotton of his
white shirt. After flicking her eyes up to his, she shot back
wryly. "Six foot three, blonde, annoyingly perky and twenty two.
Well, I guess I *don't* know what you like, Mulder." 

He smirked as she handed him his suit jacket. "See, I'm fine."
After shrugging the Armani into place, he tossed his longcoat in
the back seat.

She began returning to her side of the Taurus. "Do you think he
believed me?" 

As he slid behind the wheel, Mulder nodded. "If he hadn't, he
wouldn't have let us leave. I wonder where we'll see them next?" 

She clipped on her seat belt. "Or how they think we could know
where the bases in Africa were." 

Glancing over at her deeply serious face, he quipped, "I never
knew meeting aliens face to face would be such a revelation."

The immediate danger past, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh?" 

His eyes twinkling, he waved in the general direction of the
departed cruiser. "In space, no one has a sense of humor." 

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Monday, November 10, 1997
11:04 am

Jarred Stone paced in front of the assembled jury, surveying the
twelve faces in front of him, assessing the impact of his words
upon them. He stopped before the eldest, a white-haired history
teacher, retired just last year from one of the local high
schools. If anyone, he pinned his hopes on this tiny woman before
him, with her years of teaching the byzantine machinations of
European monarchs in the post-medieval period to her honors
students. He slid his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his
heels while all eyes were focused on him, waiting for his
conclusions. 

He smiled sagely. "Now, the case we have to make to you, regarding
the motive, not behind the unfortunate deaths of two otherwise
sterling Agents of the Bureau," he pointed towards Saunders, "but
for the charging of a man who," he waved his still cocked finger
in a wide arc, "in any other court of the land, would *never* have
been sitting in front of you in this room today, is as follows."
He began his bounding perambulations again. "The *motive*, my
fellow citizens, is to prevent the dismemberment of a secret
organization, decades old, that exists for the flimsiest of
reasons. That reason," he surveyed the faces, focused in rapt
attention, "is to save us *all*, from" he bent towards the jury
box, hoping to draw the men and women there into his web of
thoughts, "little green men." 

There were titters from the audience, and Stone watched several of
the jurors smirk. 

He pointed to the prosecutor. "Now, my honored colleague will
attempt to convince you that my client *manufactured* this
Consortium from the wiles of an over-stressed imagination to
justify what would otherwise be heinous crimes." He walked over to
the defense table, standing by a stack of documents. "But, I, and
these agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigations behind me,"
he pointed in the general direction of Mulder and Scully, "have
assembled," he pounded the folders with his fist once, "unshakable
proof that just such an organization does exist, and that it has
used its original mandate to branch out into areas totally
unrelated to," he bounded back to the jury box, "little green men,
to assume power and influence," he shoved his hands in his pockets
again, "all at the expense of," he turned his pockets inside out,
the white lining standing in stark contrast to his nut-brown suit,
"average citizens like yourselves." He tucked the cloth back in
place. "Yet, when one of their number came forward to expose this
lurking web of evil," he leaned over the railing separating the
members of the jury from the rest of the courtroom, "he was
hounded like a common criminal, and," grasping the railing, he
pointed towards Saunders again, "his very *life* was put in
danger." 

Stone took a moment to smooth down the worsted wool of his lapels.
"Now, that evidence is complex," he extended his hands, making
motions as if pulling in a rope, "long chains of documents,
binding up a story as intricate as the failure of the Savings and
Loan industry, requiring us all to sift fact from fantasy, truth
from fiction." He propped himself on the railing. "But, with your
help, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I, and the agents who have
worked for years assembling this case, intend to lay this all out
before you, to expose this corruption to," he pointed to the
ceiling, "the light of day. Then you can render a fair and
equitable verdict of not guilty. You can go home to your families,
knowing you live in a *democracy*, not a country ruled by men in a
dark room." He bowed slightly. "Thank you." 

Stone resumed his seat, a hush having fallen over the audience. 

Judge Anderson's chair creaked under his excessive girth as he
turned to the prosecutor's table. Before he spoke, he raised a
pasty white, pudgy hand to his forehead, daubing the beads of
sweat that had formed there with a trifold linen handkerchief. He
lowered that hand, ponderously shifting to the side in his seat
while he stuffed the starched cloth away under his robe, its
clasps bulging at the neck. The hand came up to rest on the
judge's dais, not bothering to smooth down his hair. Any need for
such an action had disappeared down a shower drain decades
earlier. Since the assembled witnesses and reporters were
beginning to cough and fidget, he cleared his throat. "Mister
Pollack, you may proceed with your case." His words sailed forth
separately, as ponderously launched as his motions.

While the prosecutor rose, Mulder looked down at Cynthia, tucked
in between him and Rosen. Their secretary's eyes were wide. 

He bent towards her. "You OK?" 

She blinked, then focused up at him. "Mister Stone sounds like a
preacher from back home, not a lawyer." 

Mulder's right cheek rippled, then he bent down to whisper a
gentle reassurance. "That's the general idea. Jarred's from down
South originally. He could convince a jury some of the serial
killers we convicted were demons incarnate." 

His attention was brought to the front of the courtroom by the
judge's call for order. 

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, November 14, 1997
1:34 pm

Walter Skinner, his spine still at attention, settled into the
leather and oak chair placed in the witness booth. 

Prosecutor Pollack took his place in front of him. "Director
Skinner, a few preliminaries." 

The bald head dipped once. 

"You have been an assistant director with the Federal Bureau of
Investigations for how many years?" 

"Four, Sir. I was appointed to my current position by former
director William Sessions." 

Pollack nodded. "Thank you. Now, on the night in question, how
many persons were present at the Safe House?" 

Skinner met his gaze unblinkingly. "Prior to the arrival of the
two deceased agents, two, Sir, the defendant and myself. We
had..."

Stone was on his feet. "The defense has never contended that the
defendant was not responsible for the deaths of the deceased, Your
Honor. We are willing to spare the court's time by stipulating
that the victims met their fate at the hands of my client." 

Pollack sent the lanky attorney a predatory stare before he turned
to Anderson. "The People wish the details of these two men's
deaths to be entered in the record, Your Honor. We believe they
throw a questionable light on the plea of self-defense." 

Anderson weighed the objections carefully, then called out his
decision in his lazy, gravelly voice. "In the interests of
justice, Mister Pollack, you may proceed."

Pollack glared triumphantly at Stone, then turned back to Skinner.
"Continue your description of events, Sir." 

After a flicker of distaste crossed his features, Skinner's jaw
set. "Following an indication that the two agents had arrived, I
locked the defendant in his quarters to facilitate their
admission. After proper recognition, I was taking them back to
their positions when I was struck from behind and rendered
unconscious. Upon awakening, I moved immediately to the room in
which the defendant had been placed. There, I found signs of a
forced entry and a struggle, during which the furniture in the
room had been overturned. The two agents were both dead, shot with
one of the weapons they had carried on their persons." He took a
deep breath to continue. 

Pollack held up his hand. "Thank you, Director Skinner. You say
you found signs of a forced entry. Did the defendant offer any
explanation for that forced entry?" 

Skinner shook his head. "He did not, Sir. I had assumed from the
blow I had received that we were dealing with an assassination
attempt and responded accordingly." 

Pollack let his mouth form into an O. "You assumed?" 

Skinner nodded. "In witness protection situations, it is always
assumed that an attempt will be made on the witness's life." 

Pollack began pacing. "But, the victims gave no indication, when
you met them, that they had murderous intentions towards the
defendant?" 

If it were possible for the ex-Marine to come to fuller attention,
that was exactly what the bald Director did. "No, Sir, they did
not." 

Pollack stopped in front of the witness box. "You say you were
struck on the head. Did you see a doctor about the injury,
immediately or at a later time?" 

Skinner clenched his fists. "No, Sir, I did not. At the time, it
seemed more important to secure the defendant's safety." 

Pollack crossed his arms. "Let me see if I understand you
properly, Director Skinner. You admit two agents, both with an
exemplary record, into the Safe House where only you and the
defendant wait. Is that correct?" 

Skinner blinked. "That's correct, Sir." 

Pollack continued. "These agents give no indication that they are
anything other than what you know them to be. Is that correct?" 

Skinner paused. "Yes, Sir." 

"Then, after a blow to the head, which did not require medical
attention, you awaken to find these two men dead, with the murder
weapon in the hands of the defendant. Do I have that right?" 

The bald Director glared. "Yes. Sir." If the words had been
projectiles, both would have passed directly through the quietly
gleeful Prosecutor's chest. 

Pollack shuffled slightly as he approached the witness box. "Tell
me, when, in your capacity as Assistant Director in the Bureau,
did you first meet the defendant?" 

Skinner's forehead contracted. "Sir?" 

Pollack struck the railing in front of him. "Come, Mister Skinner,
it's a simple question. Did you, or did you not, have contact with
the defendant in your capacity as Assistant Director of the FBI?" 

The color drained from the ex-Marine's face. "Yes, Sir." 

Pollack snatched his hand back from the edge. "Thank you. Would
you relate that first incident to us, please?" 

Skinner glanced at Saunders before responding. "It was in February
1995, when I was seeking to ascertain the whereabouts of Agent
Mulder in connection with..." 

Pollack was shaking his head. "We'll question Agent Mulder
shortly, Director Skinner. What transpired between yourself and
the defendant?" 

Skinner hand flicked across his chin. "We engaged in an exchange
of words and blows in the elevator in Agent Mulder's apartment
building." 

Pollack bent over the railing. "You seem to have this problem with
blows, Director Skinner. What were the defendant's last words to
you, or had he struck you on the head and knocked you out this
time, too?" 

Skinner responded in a growl. "He stated, 'I've killed men for
less.'" 

Pollack feigned horror. "Really? 'I've killed men for less' were
his exact words? You're sure about that?" 

Skinner's jaw clenched again. "Yes, Sir, I am." 

Pollack smoothed down his lapels. "Let me get this straight. Were
you holding a weapon on the defendant at the time of his,' he
flicked his eyes at the jury, "pronouncement?" 

"No, Sir, I was not. We had struggled, exchanging blows and
wrestling as the elevator car descended." 

Pollack nodded. "Hum." He rubbed his chin. "Do you think defendant
feared for his life as a result of your struggles?" 

Stone rose. "Objection! Calls for a conclusion from the witness." 

"Sustained. Rephrase your question, Mister Pollack." 

Pollack's smirk at Skinner bared all his front teeth. "When the
defendant offered his observation about his past, were you
strangling him?" 

"No, Sir, I was not. We were on opposite sides of the car." 

Pollack nodded. "I see. You had no weapon, you were not in close
proximity to the defendant, you had inflicted no permanent injury
to the defendant's person. Yet his comment to you was, 'I've
killed men for less'. Thank you, Director Skinner, you've been
most helpful. Your witness, Counselor." 

Stone eyed Pollack as he crossed to the witness box. "Director
Skinner, that statement of the defendant bothers me deeply. Why,
exactly, were you two fighting?" 

Skinner's shoulders rounded slightly. "I had reason to believe the
defendant had placed one of my agent's lives in danger by
supplying him passage to a location where there was an ongoing
paramilitary exercise. I was seeking to verify my suspicions."

Stone nodded. "Were you successful in obtaining that
verification?" 

A glimmer of pride shown from the Assistant Director's dark eyes.
"Yes, Sir, I was."

"The defendant's comment was offered immediately after
surrendering that information, was it not?" 

Skinner straightened. "Yes, Sir." 

Stone shoved his hands in his pockets. "So there was no question,
in your mind, that his comment was prompted, not by losing a short
round of fisticuffs, but by being forced to surrender something
the defendant did not want to yield to you?" 

Skinner's jaw muscles rippled. "There was no question in my mind
that the defendant did not wish me to obtain that verification,
none, Sir." 

Stone favored Skinner with a relieved smile. "Thank you, Director
Skinner." He looked up at Anderson. "I have nothing further, Your
Honor." 

Anderson faced Pollack. "Anything, Mister Pollack?" 

The Prosecutor shook his head. 

Anderson leaned over the witness box. "You may stand down, Mister
Skinner." He rested one hand on top of the other. "Call your next
witness, Mister Pollack."

The bailiff, a woman whose generous girth matched the judge's,
glanced at the next name on the witness roster. "The State calls
Fox William Mulder!" The bailiff surveyed the room, frowning at
the titters. "Agent Fox Mulder!" 

Scully poked her partner. "You're up." 

As he rose, he nodded. "Here goes nothing."

After the necessary preliminaries, Mulder settled into the witness
box.

Prosecutor Pollack paced in front of him, watching the agent out
of the corner of his eye. When Mulder, already uncomfortable,
glanced at his partner, Pollack moved into his line of sight.
"Mister Mulder, how long have you known the defendant?" 

"Since July 1994, Sir." 

Pollack nodded, appearing to mull over this information.

Mulder, still edgy, began shifting over on the wide cushions. 

Pollack slid back to the side, purposely blocking Mulder's view of
Scully. "What were the circumstances under which you two met?" 

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" 

Pollack bared his teeth at the dark-haired agent in a smile that
did nothing to calm the witness' nerves. "Oh, did you meet at a
dinner party, a law enforcement convention, while playing
softball, that sort of thing?" 

The legs of an oak chair at the defense table scraped as Jarred
Stone rose. "Your Honor, I fail to see the relevance of this line
of questioning. The actions of this witness over three years prior
to the events we are examining are hardly..." 

Judge Anderson raised one broad hand, silencing the lanky
attorney. He then interlaced his thick fingers. "Mister Pollack, I
have to concur with the defense." 

Pollack bowed slightly. "If I may be permitted to continue, Your
Honor, I believe you will see how this relates to our case."

Anderson leaned back, the steel frame protesting as he slipped
against it. "Very well, I'll allow this for now." 

The interruption was the last thing Mulder needed, leaving him
clenching his fists, then forcing himself to relax his long
fingers, when the Prosecutor returned to him. 

Pollack crossed his arms. "Now, Mister Mulder, to the events of
July 1994. Where, when and how did you first meet the defendant?" 

Mulder glanced at his hands before he spoke. "We met at RFK
Stadium." 

Pollack's black eyebrows shot up under bright black hair that
perpetually fell over the lines forming on his forehead. "Ah, at a
*football* game. I see." 

Mulder reminded himself not to slouch, but to keep his back
straight. "No, Sir. The stadium was closed. Mister Saunders, I
mean, I didn't know his name then, was there to give me some
information on secret government research into sleep eradication
experiments." 

Pollack began crossing the aisle to the evidence bench, then
looked back. "Don't you mean sleep deprivation experiments? The
effects of sleep loss on pilots, train operators, that sort of
thing?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, I mean sleep *eradication*. There was
a platoon of marines who had portions of their brains, the portion
that controls sleep and wakefulness removed, then were given
serotonin via pills to compensate for its loss. The marines who
made it back from Vietnam went for twenty years or more without
sleep, just with the pills." 

Pollack stood in front of the agent. "Mister Mulder, do you have
any idea how way-out that sounds?" He waved at the documents on
the defense bench. "Tell me, where in all that fabled
documentation of yours do you have one shred of evidence
supporting that outrageous story of yours?" 

Mulder closed his eyes momentarily. "It's not in there." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor..."

Anderson held up his hand. "I agree, Mister Stone. Make your
point, Mister Pollack."

Pollack let a smile play about his lips. "Of course, your honor.
You say Mister Saunders gave you evidence. What was this
evidence?" 

Mulder shifted. "Two copies of a report, one of which I gave to
Agent Scully. She's a medical doctor, a pathologist, and she
stated..." 

Pollack shook his head. "We'll get to Agent Scully soon enough,
Mister Mulder. Well, where is this report? Where are these
marines?" 

Mulder glanced at the floor of the witness box. "The marines are
all dead. The report is missing." 

Pollack rested both hands on the railing in front of the witness
box. "Excuse me? The marines are all dead? Did you ask your
partner the pathologist to perform autopsies on these men to
verify that they were missing a portion of their brains?" He held
up a Bureau folder, stamped XF02-0004. "There were no forensic
analyses in your report to your superiors."

Mulder shook his head. "We weren't partners at the time. I had
been assigned Agent Krycek as a partner." 

After dropping the folder back on his bench, Pollack scanned the
courtroom theatrically. "Where is this Agent Krycek? Can we
subpoena him to verify this fantastic tale?" 

Mulder colored. "I wish I knew where he was, Sir." 

Pollack faced Mulder again, and the dark-haired agent was
convinced the attorney was licking his chops. "So, let me
understand this. You gave a copy of the report to Agent Scully,
who was not your partner at the time, and the man who was your
partner is nowhere to be found?" 

Mulder gripped the arms of the witness chair. "That's correct,
Sir." 

Pollack rubbed his chin. "I see. As a matter of fact, you were
specifically told *not* to involve Agent Scully in any of your
cases, is that correct?" 

Mulder nodded. "That's correct, Sir." 

Pollack nodded. "All right. Let me make sure I understand you
properly. You were given two copies of the report by the
defendant, both of which are now missing. One you gave to Agent
Scully, who was not working with you at the time, and the man who
could verify your version of the events is also missing. Would you
venture to guess what happened to the report?" 

Mulder coughed. "I believe Saunders took it back." 

Pollack nodded. "Ah. I see. And Agent Scully's copy?" 

Mulder fidgeted. "If anyone, I believe either Krycek or Saunders
took her copy of the report as well. He was the only other person
I know who knew the report existed." 

Pollack stalked over to the defense table. "Interesting how this
case of yours begins and end with our Mister Saunders, isn't it?" 

Mulder began to splutter a protest.

Pollack held up one hand. "Now, don't bother to answer that one,
Agent Mulder, Council for the Defense has had far too much
exercise during your testimony today as it is."

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, 5:27 pm

Judge Anderson eyed the clock over the read doors of the
courtroom. "Mister Pollack?" 

The Prosecutor looked up from the folder, bearing the seal of the
Bureau, and stamped with XF03-0009, that he had balanced on the
railing in front of the witness. "Yes, Your Honor?" 

Anderson leaned over towards the witness box. "Given the
importance of this witness' testimony to your case, I have
permitted you to run court past its usual hour of adjournment.
Will you be finishing with Mister Mulder soon, or should we
continue this tomorrow?" 

Pollack snapped the folder shut. "Just one more question, Your
Honor." 

Knowing the importance of last impressions for a jury, Stone's
chair scraped over the wood flooring. "Your Honor, if I may be
permitted to redress some of these points tonight, possibly in an
evening session." 

Pollack approached the bench. "Your Honor, there has been no
request made for evening work." 

Stone bounded across the aisle, the heads of the two attorneys
level as they tipped back to make their points. "Your Honor, there
is exceptionally tight security surrounding the members of the
jury in this case. The sooner it is concluded, the safer they will
all be." 

Anderson's thick neck wobbled. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please.
While I appreciate the concerns of the Defense Council, this is
the first of many days we will all be gathered in my courtroom."
There was the slap of his gavel against granite. "Court is
adjourned for the day. In deference to the extraordinary nature of
this case, we will resume again at nine o'clock. Let's get an
early start tomorrow, good people." He heaved himself to his feet,
bringing those assembled upright as well. 

All but one. Dana Scully's view of Mulder had been consistently
blocked by the Prosecutor, so she could not verify for herself the
psychological toll this testimony had taken on her partner. Now,
with the tear-drop shaped figure out of the way, her breath
caught. Fox Mulder had pressed himself against the far side of the
chair, attempting to support himself through the battering he had
received. Now, he seemed barely aware of his surroundings,
blinking slowly as the assembly departed. 

Nichols leaned into her vision. "Ros and I were thinking of taking
Cyndie to dinner. You want to grab Mulder and come along?" 

Scully sighed. "No. We'll probably get something at the hotel." 

Eying his Section Head sadly, Nichols nodded. "We'll bring
something back for you two, OK?" 

The auburn-haired woman nodded her thanks, first to Nichols, then
to Rosen, who had dropped a hand to her shoulder. 

The astronomer spoke gently. "I've never seen Mulder indulge in a
beer, but I could..."

Scully shook her head. "No. He doesn't drink. Thanks, but dinner
will be a stretch." She waited until the courtroom was cleared,
then she approached the bench. "Mulder?" 

He pulled himself upright, responding to her presence for the
first time that day. "Scully?" The self-protective barricade he
had erected was mentally opened, just to admit her. 

She reached inside the witness box to grasp his arm. "It's over
for today." 

The dark-haired agent slumped forward, pressing his face into his
palms. 

Scully rubbed small circles in his shoulder, waiting for a
response. 

After what seemed to them both to be an eternity, he spoke through
his fingers. "I blew it, didn't I? Pollack has nicely made the
case that all we've found out is Saunders' doing, thanks to me." 

She bent close to his ear. "Oh, no, I wouldn't say that." She
lowered herself to the step into the witness box. "Remember that
we have several technicians coming to testify to Duane Barry's
implants. Remember also that we can show how limited Saunders'
training and resources to pull off a hoax actually are. They'll
take their best shot, but it won't be enough." 

Mulder rubbed his hands together. "OK." His sorrowing eyes fixed
on hers. "If it exposes the Consortium and everything they've
tried to conceal, I guess it will have been worth it." 

Scully grasped his arm. "Do you feel like joining the others for
dinner?" 

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not really all that hungry." 

Keeping hold of his wrist, she led him out of the witness box,
then was reassured when he reached in front of her to push the
swinging doors separating the benches from the rows of hard seats
apart for her. After they passed into the aisle, she made a point
of brushing her shoulder against his side as they walked towards
the exit together. 

He responded with a light touch on her back and a quip. "Besides,
'Planet of the Apes' is coming up on AMC at eight this evening.
Charleton Heston in a cage, Scully, every feminist's dream." 

She tossed her hair. "But that means I'm missing 'Ben-Hur'. Heston
in high-cut leather is better." 

He smirked slightly as he held open one of the double doors to the
hall. 

                            --o-0-o--

Allegheny View Motel
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, 8:17 pm
Room 217

At the knock, Scully crossed the room to check their visitors
through the spyhole of the door. "I think you have a surprise
waiting for you, Mulder." 

The dark-haired agent, shoeless and tieless, swung his feet off
the twin bed to stand. "Oh?" He grasped her shoulder while she
moved aside to give him a clear view. Grinning broadly, he
unlocked the door. 

Langly sauntered in, his arms laden with wide rolls of stiff
paper. "Hey, G-man, what's shakin'?" 

Nichols followed, looking Mulder in the eye. "You feeling better,
Chief?" He passed him a white paper bag.

Mulder nodded, then faced Langly. "What do you have?" 

The blond Gunman was shoving on one of the twin beds with his
foot. "IR data from the SPOT satellite." He waited while Rosen
took several of the maps from him. "We may have worked out a
possible location for what might have interested your shape-
shifter buddies." 

The astronomer was spreading out the full-color mosaics,
attempting to pat them flat. "The Pilot talked about near-sentient
simians, right? Thanks." Her last comment was directed at Cynthia,
who was carefully placing shoes, cel phones, and anything else she
could find that was small and heavy, on the corners of the pages. 

Scully stepped out of her own pumps, aligning them on the edges of
the papers closest to her. "Like the chimpanzee or the gorilla.
You've brought maps of their habitats?" 

The brunette sat back on her heels. "Yes. These are full, two
meter resolution images of portions of Africa, taken just last
week." She pointed to the sheets by Mulder. "That's Ruwanda." She
tapped the map by her knee. "This is Gombe." 

His arms crossed, Mulder bent at the waist to peer at the colors.
"According to the legend, this is all forested area." 

Nichols grunted as he sat, rubbing his knees before he stretched
them out to his side. "Yeah, but we think we see a pattern here."
He rolled onto his hip to dig out a telescoping pointer. "Ooh,
that hurts. You show'em." He tossed the slight aluminum tube to
his partner. 

She caught it with a smirk, then opened it with a practiced snap.
"See, this darker area here?" She circled a pentagon with unequal
sides. "That doesn't look natural, does it?" 

Mulder dropped to his knees. "No. I take it I'm not supposed to
point and shout 'UFO landing site'?" 

Rosen grinned. "Call it whatever you want, Mulder. You'll just
have to prove it." 

He snorted, then waggled his hand at her. "Lend the US taxpayer
the benefits of that fine education of yours, Rosen."

She outlined the area idly with the red tip of the pointer. "A
more down-to-earth explanation would be a subterranean structure.
The added heat and moisture coming off the facility would increase
the plant density sufficiently to be noticed at these finer
scales. With the older Landsat instruments, the resolution to see
something like this wasn't there, and besides, most efforts were
concentrated over the First or Second Worlds." 

Cynthia frowned. "Second World?" 

Nichols smiled. "The former Soviet Union and allies, for you
young'ns. We were awfully busy spying on each other for most of
the past half century."

Rosen continued. "Now, with the new European and Japanese
satellites coming on line, *and* with high resolution outputs
commercially available, anyone can spy on anyone else, almost." 

Mulder nodded. "With First World reserves of strategic minerals
exhausted, the undeveloped Third World is becoming increasingly
more significant. Just where the Shadows were trying to hide out."

Scully had her nose nearly on the print. "There's one here in
Gombe, too." 

Langly tapped the sheets in front of him. "And here, in the
Sahara." 

Scully looked over. "The Sahara? What near-sentient primates live
there?" 

Cynthia squeaked, then nearly fell off her chair. Her wild arm
motions calling their attentions to her. "I know, or at least I
think I know. It may be us." 

Langly was grinning wildly. "Yeah, she may be right." 

Mulder looked to his partner. "What is this? I thought we all came
down from the trees? I know the Sahara was forested at one time in
the past, but..." 

Scully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But that was back in
the Mesozoic, right, Rosen?" 

The agent nodded. "Right, but listen to this." She reached across
the maps to touch Cynthia's elbow. "Tell them, Cyndie." 

The tiny woman was beaming. "There's a theory that the original
ancestor to both modern humans and the great apes was bipedal,
that it had to cross vast tracks of desert to reach water." 

Mulder settled into the armchair by her side. "How well accepted
is this? Or is this a wild idea like the Doctor's always accusing
me of producing?" 

After suppressing a giggle, Cynthia shook her head. "It's just
speculation at this point, what the professor called a 'plausible
hypothesis'. There's no proof, outside of circumstantial
evidence." She clasped her denim-clad knees with her hands. "You
see, as far back as we go with the human fossils, we find fully
functional bipedal locomotion. Think of the Laetoli footprints." 

Scully rose to stand by her. "The ones Mary Leakey found in the
ash deposits." 

Cynthia stood, looking the auburn-haired woman in the eye. "Yes.
Well, between that and the fact that chimpanzees and gorillas
probably evolved after we did, there's been a Doctor Boaz out
looking in the Sahara for bipedal ancestors for several years
now." 

Nichols pulled himself to his feet. "So, if your Consortium is
really looking to merge human and chimpanzee DNA, it would help to
know exactly when and where the split occurred, so it could know
what characteristics were most compatible." He shrugged. "Or
that's how it seems to me." 

Langly dropped onto the bed. "Yeah, the DNA might not give you all
the clues you need." 

Rosen crossed her arms. "We've discovered a third species of chimp
just recently, whereas human and gorillas are a single species
each." She stepped out of her running shoes to track a path around
the edges of the images. "In the gorilla's case, it's because
there are so few of them. For us, it's a different question
altogether." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "This is good." He beckoned to Scully, so
they stepped outside. Once the door swung shut, he leaned into her
face. "We don't need to keep them all here when they could be
pursuing this. They weren't subpoenaed by the Prosecution, so
their testimony won't be required for a couple of weeks, at
least." 

She nodded. "I agree, Mulder. They've seen how our adversaries
like to operate, and Cynthia would be happier working than
worrying." 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "Are you sure about using
her? I don't mean because of her relationship with Lindhauer, but
she's not trained to handle a weapon or defend herself." 

Scully glanced at a passing car before responding. "I think so.
She'll be with Rosen and Nichols and the Gunmen all the time, so
we don't have to look out for her. I'm sorry she had to pull out
of school; she's a bright kid." 

Mulder reached for the knob. "Well, she can give herself a crash
course in human evolution, with Rosen's help." He looked down at
her. "You wouldn't think we would need to worry about that leaping
into that quagmire." 

Scully tossed her head. "Who knows, Mulder, you may be able to
prove we were seeded here by alien founders after all." 

Stepping back, he shook his head. "Nope. If we were, I don't think
the picture would be as confusing as it is, do you?" Smirking, he
waved her back inside.

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Monday, November 17, 1997
1:02 pm

"No further questions, Your Honor." His steps precise, his motions
sinuous, Prosecutor Pollack returned to his seat. 

Judge Anderson leaned towards the defense table. "Your witness,
Mister Stone." 

Rising, Jarred Stone ambled across the aisleway to stand in front
of Mulder. Rather than blocking the dark-haired agent's view of
his partner, Stone rested his left elbow on the railing of the
witness box, then slid his right hand into his pants pocket.
Although this action put his back to the judge, it also blocked
the prosecutor's eyeline with the witness, but left him free to
catch jury members' reactions. He nodded to the faces in the two
short rows on the right side of the courtroom before he smiled
gently at Mulder. 

The slight break had given the agent the time to catch his breath
and compose himself. 

Stone paused, waiting for the whispers and coughs in the courtroom
to still before he said quietly, "That's quite a story you've told
us, Agent Mulder." 

The agent glanced at his partner, who had the same slightly
befuddled expression he knew he himself was wearing. 

Stone pushed himself slowly off the birch panels of the witness
box. "Ah mean, you're askin' us to believe that the government
would purposely disable citizens and free men, marines at that."
He bounced on his heels, having caught the sharpened focus of one
blond man in the back, whose military service emblem adorned his
lapel. "Almost as bad as usin' soldiers to watch the first A-bomb
explosions, or undergo LSD tests, wouldn't yah say?" 

Mulder grasped each wrist with the opposite hand. <Jarred at his
finest.> "Yes, yes, I would." He took a deep breath, prepared to
offer more, but stopped at an almost imperceptible shake from the
attorney's long head. 

Stone stepped over to the prosecutor's table. "But I'm afraid the
Council for the prosecution is aksin' us to believe something even
more amazin'." 

Pollack was on his feet. "I object, Your Honor, none of Council's
questions bear on testimony introduced during direct examination." 

Anderson tapped two pudgy fingers on a folder. "Mister Stone, you
know the rules. I'll have to side with the Prosecutor on this
unless you can show some connection otherwise." 

His hands in his pockets, Stone bowed slightly. "My sincerest
apologies, Your Honor, facts like these are difficult to warm up
to." He sent a glance towards the jury, all of whom were now
focused on him. "Ah'll come to the point, then. Ah believe the
opposing Council stated 'this case of yours begins and ends with
our Mister Saunders'." He looked to the Court Recorder for
verification, who read off the exact quote. "Thank-yew, Ma'am." He
rubbed his hands together. "Then, let's get right down to it. In
your case report, you state the victims and the men you
interviewed all had scars on the backs of their necks, is that
correct?" 

Mulder nodded. "Yes." 

Stone leaned against the witness box again. "Red and puffy, as if
made in the past few weeks?" 

"No." Mulder drew his finger along the back of his neck. "The
marks were thick with scar tissue and several inches long. They
must have been in place for several years at least." 

"Hum." Stone stared at his oversized feet, appearing to
contemplate this information. "And none of this men showed any
sign of paralysis or long-term brain damage?" 

Mulder settled back. "No, Sir. Outside of exhibiting nervous
habits, like smoking or fidgeting, no." 

Stone stared at his feet again. "Ah see. So, these scars had to
have been administered by someone who knew what they were doing,
like a surgeon." 

Mulder squared his shoulders. "While investigating the death of
one physician, my partner and I did encounter another who admitted
to having performed the surgery." 

Stone nodded. "Ah see you anticipated my next question, Mister
Mulder. My client is no surgeon, so to live up to the
Prosecution's contention, we have to believe that he coerced
another man to cut Marines, years before meeting you, just for the
express purpose of convincing you that a larger Conspiracy
existed, when none really did." 

Pollack was on his feet, but Stone bowed to him. "I think I've
asked Mistah Mulder all the questions Ah need to for today." 

Judge Anderson faced Pollack. "Any redirect, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack sank slowly to his seat. "No, Your Honor." 

Anderson turned to Mulder. "Then the witness may stand down."

As Mulder slid into his seat beside Scully, she tugged on his
sleeve until he moved his ear towards her lips. "Mulder, don't you
think Stone's pouring on the Southern gentleman routine a tad
thick?" 

Keeping his hand below the level of the seats, he flicked an index
finger at the jury. "Of course, Scully, but the only audience that
counts is eating it up over there."

Judge Anderson's chair groaned. "Since it is well past the noon
hour, and the Prosecution and Defense are finished with this
witness, we will take the lunch recess. Court will reconvene at
two thirty." A slap of the gavel, then the whoosh of the audience
rising ushered him to his chambers.

Mulder turned to Scully. "They're all back safe?" 

She nodded. "Cynthia is staying with Skinner and his wife." 

He stepped into the aisle to let her walk out ahead of him.
"Better than one of our two bachelors."

Scully glanced back over her shoulder. "Or the Gunmen." She rubbed
a slip of paper between her fingers. "They called for us during
your testimony. I don't know what you were planning on for lunch,
but an apple or an orange from the Courthouse lunchroom would do
me just fine." 

Once they had shuffled into the hallway, he pointed to the door.
"If you want to call them, go ahead. I'll be back with your fruit,
Jane." 

Digging in her suit pocket for change, she headed for the pay
phones in the lobby.

                            --o-0-o--

Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day, the agents had
chosen to take their lunch on the south-facing steps of the
courthouse, as had several other small groups. 

His mouth full of cheeseburger, Mulder leaned over his partner,
who was squinting in an attempt to read her notes. "What did they
say?" 

Scully rolled her orange rind into a paper napkin. "They've found
more of those pentagon-shaped patterns in the desert regions of
Africa, specifically along the Western Rift valley." 

Mulder frowned. "I wonder why they haven't made a greater attempt
to conceal themselves, or at least restrict data over the area?" 

Scully snatched a french fry off Mulder's plastic tray, savoring
her forbidden prize. "Could it be that the new Group in charge
doesn't know it has assets down there to protect?" Dodging his
swatting hand, she dunked the end of the fry in his catsup. 

Mulder cocked his head. "Or could they be done with their work
there, so not care who finds out what they have?" 

Finished, she sighed. "Could that retrovirus I was injected with
be the end product, rather than an interim test?" She wrapped her
arms around her knees, suddenly cold on this clear fall day. "It's
possible, but I doubt it. The retrovirus worked so poorly that
nearly all the test subjects died, Mulder. I know what I found at
that Leper camp. Pits of dead bodies." 

Dropping the remains of his burger to the blue styrofoam platter,
Mulder leaned protectively towards his partner. "But why not just
bring chimps over here and breed them?" 

As a gust of wind swept the stairs, Scully tucked a stray lock of
hair behind her ear. "Because it doesn't fit with how they've
handled the human test subjects. They wanted as broad a genetic
data base as possible. Any captive breeding program will be
limited only to the variability inherent in the original
specimens. It's a longstanding problem for Zoos with endangered
species, you know." 

More interested in the discussion than the food, he tossed his
napkin on the fries. "But with this Mitochondrial Eve theory,
aren't we limited as well?" 

"Not as much as you might think, Mulder. We're looking at the
problem of inheritance from the far end of a telescope, as it
were. Consider what happens in isolated villages in Europe with
names, how eventually nearly everyone has one of a few surnames."

He considered this. "If a man never marries, or has only
daughters, his family name isn't passed on. Eventually, after
enough generations, only sons of sons of, etcetera, etcetera leave
a mark in the village phone book." He touched her elbow. "Could
that be what's happening with the Consortium, we've been so busy
nailing down one organization's structure that we've missed
several parallel Groups?" 

Standing, she smoothed down her suit jacket. "Possibly. Ishimaru
wasn't working on his own. But for security, they probably didn't
exchange too much information about their power structures." She
tapped her watch. "It's almost two thirty. I'll be in the hot seat
next." 

Mulder smirked. "Well, Pollack'll have trouble making you sweat.
Good thing you wore flats today. I know whom most of the men on
the jury will be rooting for." 

As they climbed, she glanced over. "I hope most of the women,
too."

                            --o-0-o--

The heavy-set woman in blue stood before Dana Scully, a battered
soft-cover Bible in her left hand, her right arm already cocked
upright. "Dana Katherine Scully?" 

The auburn-haired woman nodded. 

After a sigh, the bailiff continued. "Repeat after me. I, Dana
Katherine Scully, do swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth, so help me God." 

Scully dutifully mouthed the familiar words. 

The bailiff lowered the black volume and waved at the witness box.
"You may now have a seat." 

Stepping up onto the raised oak floor of the panelled space,
Scully lowered herself into the padding with a conservation of
effort born of long practice.

Prosecutor Pollack paced in front of the Agent, eyeing her
occasionally as he fumed. When he felt he had stretched out his
performance as long as he dared, he spun on one heel, bending over
into the witness box, and as close to her face as he dared. "Would
you be so kind as to tell us how you happened to come to work with
Fox Mulder?" 

Scully's green-blue eyes dilated slightly. "I was assigned to the
X-Files by Division Chief Blevins..." She blinked when she heard
Stone's chair legs scrape the floor. 

The lanky attorney struck his oak table once. "Your Honor, I fail
to see what relevance this question has to the case at hand." 

Judge Anderson shifted in his seat, taking his chin out of his
palm with a grunt. He had been gazing approvingly down on the
diminutive agent from the moment she stepped through the gates
separating the court from the audience. "Humph, Mister Stone." The
chair rotated, ominously slowly. "While your objection is duly
noted, I'm inclined to grant the Prosecution leeway in
establishing his case." His hand rose to support his head again.
"Go on, Mister Pollack." 

After sending the Judge a dark look, Stone resumed his seat. 

Saunders edged a pencil to the edge of the oak table-top, using
the excuse of picking it up to check Mulder's face. The agent
behind him was scowling at the man on the dais, as irritated as
Stone that not everyone was taking the flame-haired woman as
seriously as they ought to. 

Pollack leaned back into the witness box. "Continue with your
answer, Agent Scully. Or do you prefer Doctor?" 

There was the barest ripple of surprise crossing her left cheek,
then she tilted her chin up slightly. "Either will do. I'm a
licensed forensic pathologist working for the Bureau, Sir." 

Pollack adopted a similar pose to the man above him, gratified
when Scully slid as far to her left in the wide seat as possible.
"Really? How often do you get to use those skills of yours,
chasing," he held up two folders, "fat sucking mutants and
sentient metallic cockroaches?" 

A titter ran through the jury, ignored by the Scully as she folded
her hands in her lap. "Unfortunately, all too often, Sir. Remember
that in nearly every one of our cases, an unexplained death has
occurred, a premature termination to a life much like yours or
mine. All these victims deserve justice." 

The twelve men and women froze, Scully's words focusing them.
"Even in the case of the 'fat-sucking mutant', there were six
women who fell prey to a ruthless stalker, a man who is now
serving as many life sentences as the result of our
investigation." The auburn-haired agent leaned forward, her back
ram-rod straight. "What convicted Virgil Incanto was *not* some
idle speculation, but the tangible evidence he left behind on
every victim: skin under the fingernails, blood with chromosomal
structures unique to the suspect, a confession revealing
particulars of the crimes only a participant would know." She
settled back. "I have no apologies to make for my years with the
X-Files, Sir, or my work with Agent Mulder..." 

Pollack held up his hand. "That will do, Doctor Scully. Your
integrity and dedication to justice are not on trial here." He
walked slowly back to his table, sifting through a stack of
folders. 

Scully remained rigid, her green-blue eyes boring into the
Prosecutor's spine. 

Pollack swiveled, forcing Scully to drop her gaze to her hands. He
began questioning her from his stance by the table. "Let's turn
that analytical mind of yours to your first encounter with the
defendant." He rearranged several sheets in the folder in his
hand.

The woman on the high seat relaxed marginally. "I first met the
defendant..." 

The round face snapped towards her. "Agent Scully, let me direct
your testimony, if you don't mind."

Stone called out a protest from a slouch that hid most of his long
form under the deep oak table. "I object, Your Honor. Council is
badgering the witness." 

Pollack shook his head. "She's presently my witness, Your Honor." 

Anderson lifted his gaze from Scully's profile, partially
concealed behind her helmet of hair. "Oh, I'll allow Mister
Pollack all the latitude he needs here. I hardly think this
witness is one who could be badgered." 

Pollack nodded to the judge as he crossed to stand in front of
Scully. "What was the specific catalyst for the case you and Agent
Mulder were pursuing at your first encounter with the defendant?" 

Scully gazed at the back door of the courtroom. "Agent Mulder and
I were investigating the unexplained deaths of several abortion
doctors who had identical appearances." 

Pollack glanced down at the folder before him, momentarily at a
loss. "Hold on for a moment, Doctor Scully." He stalked back to
his table, hissing angrily at his two assistant prosecutors before
he snatched a different folder from the African-American woman. 

Judge Anderson rotated slowly to eye the knot of attorneys. "Would
you like a recess, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack straightened. "That won't be necessary, Your Honor." He
stood by the table. "You didn't actually engage in a conversation
with the defendant in the course of this case, did you, Agent
Scully?" 

She arched her shoulders. "That's correct, Sir. He spoke to me,
but I did not speak to him. He had given Agent Mulder information
vital to the solution of our case, and plane tickets to the
location of a large piece of evidence. Agent Mulder had
immediately pursued this lead and I was attempting to follow him." 

Pollack opened the folder. "He ditched you?" 

Scully's jaw went rigid. "The very nature of some of our cases
requires an immediate response under certain circumstances. Agent
Mulder was in pursuit of evidence too evanescent to delay. He left
me a note." 

Pollack nodded. "Very well. We'll return to that point. Your
encounter with the defendant, then. Tell me about that." 

Scully settled back in the chair. "I had sent the message through
customary channels stating that I wished to meet with the
defendant at Agent Mulder's apartment." 

When she took a breath to continue, Pollack shook his head. "What
was that signal, Doctor Scully?" 

She focused on him momentarily, before she returned her gaze to
the back doors. "Two pieces of masking tape, crossed into an X, on
Mulder's apartment window." 

Pollack favored her with a theatrical smile. "Oh, come now, Agent
Scully, this sounds like James Bond, not the Bureau of Director
Freeh. Are you asking us to believe that the defendant had nothing
better to do with himself than hang out across the street from
Agent Mulder's apartment, waiting for some covert signal for a
meeting?" 

Scully clenched her fists. "Sir, I cannot tell you how long Agent
Mulder would wait for the defendant to appear under other
circumstances. But I can tell you that each time I have used this
signal to alert the defendant to a meeting, the delay in his
arrival has been several hours, if not to the next day. I
concluded from that passage of time that the defendant would check
Agent Mulder's apartment on a regular basis, such as, while on the
way to or from work." 

Pollack nodded, obviously playing to the jury. "Very logical, as
always, Agent Scully. Go on. What did the defendant say to you?"

"He apologized, then said he had the wrong apartment." She glanced
at her partner for the first time since she had taken the stand.
"The next person to appear at the door was Assistant Director
Skinner, who had the information I was seeking." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, I hardly see how this line of
questioning is relevant to the case at hand." 

Judge Anderson nodded. "I concur with the Council for the Defense
in this case, Mister Pollack. Please make an attempt to bring the
questions to bear on the matters before us." 

Pollack whirled. "Your Honor, I'm attempting to establish the
mental stability of the defendant. I see I'll have to proceed more
quickly." He trotted back to his table to return with a different
folder. "Very well, Agent Scully, let's move forward in time to
November of 1995. This time, you and the defendant conversed at
length, did you not?" 

Scully laid both hands flat on her lap, puzzled by the
Prosecutor's choice to dwell on these cases. "We did, Sir." 

Pollack removed Scully's report from a folder labelled XF03-0008.
"And would you relate the content of that conversation to the jury
for us, Doctor Scully?" 

She nodded. "The defendant warned me that Agent Mulder's solo
pursuit of a lead on the investigation underway would put his,
Agent Mulder's that is, life in danger unnecessarily." 

Pollack removed a gold fountain pen from his lapel pocket, using
it to rap out a rhythm on the papers. "*Solo* pursuit? He ditched
you again?" 

If Scully's face had been a porcelain mask before, her whole body
froze into marble now, only her green-blue eyes alive, burning
holes in the Prosecutor's brown ones. "Agent Mulder was in pursuit
of more evidence of an evanescent nature. He had informed me by
telephone of his intentions and I was offering what assistance the
circumstances permitted." 

The low words dropped the courtroom into silence, and brought
Stone to his feet. "Your Honor, Agent Mulder is not the one on
trial here. His behavior is irrelevant to this case." 

Anderson nodded. "I concur with the Council for the Defense.
Please make your point, Prosecutor Pollack." 

Pollack slipped the pen away. "Very well. When was next time you
conversed with the defendant?" 

Scully would not allow herself to relax. "Later that next day, he
contacted me by phone to inform me that Agent Mulder was in the
hospital, recovering from a beating. He gave me the location." 

Pollack closed the folder. "Did he tell you how Agent Mulder
received his injuries?" 

One brow arched. "No, Sir." 

Pollack nodded. "Do you know how Agent Mulder received his
injuries?" 

Her eyes flashed. "I was informed by Agent Mulder..." 

"Object! Hearsay! The Prosecution should have put those..." 

"Agreed, Mister Stone."

Pollack sighed. "You cannot, of your own eyewitness, verify that
the defendant did not administer those injuries to Agent Mulder
himself, in an effort to manufacture evidence of a Conspiracy
where none otherwise existed?" 

Scully's long lashes fluttered. "No, Sir, I cannot." 

Pollack turned to Stone, who was practically bent over the width
of the defense table. "I have no further questions. Your witness,
Mister Stone." 

The lanky attorney bounded to the witness box, leaning against the
birch panelling once again. "Agent Scully, was the information the
defendant gave you, in both of these cases, substantially correct,
or in error?" 

Her shoulders sagged, and she slumped into the stiff leather
cushions. "It was more correct than I had initially anticipated,
Sir." 

Stone dropped both hands in his pockets. "Let us return to your
first encounter with the defendant. You eventually followed Agent
Mulder, did you not?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

Stone bowed. "When you arrived at Agent Mulder's location, was
there any evidence the defendant had been present?" 

Scully glanced at her hands. "No, Sir, none." 

Stone smiled gently at her. "Thank you, Agent Scully." He raised
his eyes to the man on the dais. "I have nothing further, Your
Honor." 

"Any re-direct, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack rose, snapping Scully back to full alert. "Agent Scully,
you were rather occupied with Agent Mulder when you arrived at his
location, were you not?" 

Scully's answer was barely audible. "Yes, Sir." 

Pollack leaned over the table, resting his weight on both hands.
"Too busy to check for the defendant's presence?" 

"Agent Mulder's life was in imminent danger, and I was in sole
possession of the cure. I was attending Agent Mulder as a
physician in this instance, not a partner, Sir." 

Pollack fingered his pens. "Highly commendable, Doctor Scully.
That will be all." 

Anderson turned to Stone, who simply shook his head. The judge
then leaned over towards the birch box. "The witness may stand
down." 

Gratefully, the auburn-haired agent returned to her seat by her
partner, who turned hollow eyes to meet hers. She brushed the long
hand resting on his thigh with her fingers, struggling to send him
a slight smile. Scully had no desire to reopen old arguments, as
the Prosecutor was attempting to do. 

Anderson was gavelling the court back into silence. "You may call
your next witness, Mister Pollack." 

The grey-haired attorney scanned the courtroom. "I had anticipated
spending more time on these witnesses than was required, Your
Honor. My next witness is testifying in a different trial today,
but should be available to take questions tomorrow." 

"Very well. Court stands adjourned until the hour of ten am
tomorrow." 

                            --o-0-o--

Pool
Allegheny View Motel
Monday, 4:27 pm

Dana Scully was slicing her way through the heated water of the
indoor pool, hoping that, like her partner, she could release the
tension of the day's testimony into its chlorinated depths.
Mulder, having finished what he considered a reasonable amount of
pre-supper exercise, was lounging on one of the canvas chairs, a
thick white towel draped around his shoulders. When the door to
the high space snapped open, he nodded to the bean-pole of a man
who emerged, still in the same grey suit he had worn in court. 

Mulder pulled himself to his feet, ambling as slowly as Jarred
Stone, meeting him halfway down the length of the wooden deck.
"Evening, Jarred." He smirked as his partner splashed past them,
she not caring that her strokes lacked their usual Navy-trained
precision. "The Doctor here wanted to take a few turns in
Poseidon's realm." He tipped his head, knowing this was one of the
few men he had to look as far up to as Scully did to him. "She's
convinced all this sitting around is making her flabby." 

Stone chuckled. "If that woman has an ounce of fat, I'm knee-high
to a toadstool, Muldah." He shoved his bony hands in his pockets.
"Actually, if you think we could reel your water nymph in, I need
to talk to both of you about a strategy change." 

Catching Stone's expression, Mulder grinned. "Ooh, Jarred, I
thought you were a married man." 

The attorney's hazel eyes followed the black one-piece as Scully
dove to reverse direction. "Ah may be married, but Ah'm not dead." 

Mulder let out a shout that was a cross between a whoop and a
yelp. 

Scully's legs dropped beneath her, then she eyed her partner with
surprise. 

While waving her in, Mulder muttered to Stone. "I knew that would
do it." 

Stone bent over the dark-haired agent. "If that's your idea of a
rebel yell, mah friend, Ah'm powerful glad Mississippi and
Massachusetts was on opposite sides during the War between the
States." His voice resonated deep in his chest. "Powerful glad."

Shrugging, Mulder knelt to offer Scully a hand out of the pool.
"See, Doctor, I *have* been keeping up on my physical therapy."

She grasped his muscled upper arm, as he did hers, then with a
practiced kick, she vaulted out of the water to sit on the cedar
surround. "Oh, so *that* was what those women you kept bringing
back to your hotel room told you they were." She tipped her head
teasingly.

Happy to be sharing in this relaxed moment, Stone smirked at the
exchange.

Keeping her motionless with one arm around her shoulders, Mulder
began rubbing her hair playfully with one end of his towel.
"Jarred needs to talk a little business, partner." 

Letting one cheek dimple, she tugged at the terrycloth until it
slid off his neck. "Oh?" She rolled to her knees, then stood,
practically bent over backwards to meet Stone's dancing eyes. "Do
you know who this witness they'll be introducing tomorrow is?"
Finished drying herself, she tossed the towel over Mulder's head,
eliciting chuckles from both men.

Stone held out her white bathrobe, waiting until she had tied it
closed around her to reply. "No, but since you've defeated King
Neptune, I'd like to use you to present most of our case, rather
than this droll New England boy heah." 

Scully cocked an eyebrow at her partner. "I could hardly imagine
why." 

Suddenly cold in only the red Speedos, Mulder had crossed his arms
over his chest. "Yeah, it makes sense. The jury seems to find you
more credible." 

She nodded. "OK. We'll talk about it over dinner?" At the single
nod from the long head, she spun on her heel. "Give me a few,
guys." 

Mulder began trotting after her, but Stone stopped him with a
touch on his arm. "Having to give testimony like she did can
really set one's teeth on edge. Think she's worked it off?" 

After the door clicked shut, the dark-haired agent glanced back at
the wet spot on the deck. "Yeah, for now. That's what the goofing
around told me. Getting her to really relax and let go of a little
of that self-sufficiency has been one of the many hurdles we've
faced in our partnership. Meet you out front."

                            --o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen
Tuesday, November 18, 1997
1:26 am

Andrea Rosen rubbed her face, then glanced at her watch. <It's
late.> The rest of the men and Cynthia had felt the time as well,
their efforts slowing to inconsequentiality. Cynthia was stacking
thick photo-sheets of imagery, smallest on top, stiffest on the
bottom. Langly, supine on one of the couches, had rested his
laptop on his chest, but the arm that hung off the cushions kept
slipping to the floor. Byers had just returned with yet another
cup of coffee, but after a single sip, had abandoned the cold
sludge. Frohike was out completely, curled up on a corner of the
long sofa on the north wall of the room. Only her partner was
still busy, whistling softly and off-key while he cross-referenced
parts and supply houses. 

The brunette astronomer sighed when her cel phone buzzed from the
floor next to her hip. "Rosen." She frowned at the caller's words.
"It's OK, Cary, you can call me anytime. What's wrong?" She began
rubbing the back of her neck, aware that her partner had taken off
his reading glasses to chew on one earpiece. "Cary, sweetheart,
are you sure? Have you called an ambulance?" She ran her hand, the
muscles and tendons prominent under her skin, through her short
curls. "OK. Let me talk this over with Nic. We're in the middle of
a very significant case right now." 

Every one of the faces in the room popped back to alertness at her
tone. Powering down the laptop, Langly rolled his feet to the
floor, then slid to her side. Nichols closed the catalogs to drop
them on the cushions. Cynthia glanced up as he passed, so he shook
his head at her. 

Rosen's focus pulled in to the voice in her ear. "They've
confirmed it? Cary, honey, I'm sorry. I'll call you right back."
Terminating the call, she rose to look over at her partner. 

"She's dead?" Nichols touched her elbow. 

"She's dead." Rosen rubbed her hollowed cheeks. "Cary needs me
there. She's never been without her Mom." She sent her partner a
helpless look. 

With a hand on her shoulder, Nichols guided her into the kitchen.
"Ros, it's OK. Cary doesn't have anybody else from what you've
told me." He waggled his hand at the four in the light behind
them. "With all of them on the case, you can take the time you
need." 

Rosen began pacing, tracking a path around the table and kitchen
island. "But, this is so important. We need to run the shape-
shifters to ground before they can implement whatever plans
they're hatching. Mulder and Scully are counting on us to cover
for them while they handle the trial!" 

Nichols blocked her progress. "Don't start that, Ros, don't make
my mistakes. Go help Cary. Mulder and Scully have both lost family
members, so they know about making tough choices. Let me drive you
back to your place, then to the airport, OK?" 

Rosen rubbed her face one final time. "OK. I'll go." She poked him
in the chest with her index finger. "But you call me if you need
anything. Anything, you hear?" 

He pulled her into a brief, sympathetic hug. "Yeah, sure."
Stepping back, he waved to the doorway, where the rest had
collected. "We won't let you miss the fun. Right, guys?" 

Four heads bobbed. 

Nichols bent over her ear. "No one likes to have their mother-in-
law problems solved this way." 

In spite of the hour, Rosen found a quick smile on her face. 

Langly stepped up to her. "You're doing the right thing, Rosen." 

She nodded. "I hope so." 

After the door closed behind the partners, Cynthia turned to
Byers. "I never knew Agent Rosen was married." 

Byers eyed Langly before he responded. "Well, I don't know if I
should be the one to tell you this, but she has a wife." 

Cynthia gasped. "I didn't know! You mean?" 

Langly stepped in front of her. "There's nothing wrong with that,
is there?" He was edgy, nervous. 

Cynthia shook her head. "I just couldn't tell. I never understood
why Preacher Wills would go on about it like it was so evil. But
then, we're supposed to love everybody, too, and he couldn't make
me hate someone like Agent Rosen." She looked to the blond Gunman
for support. "Could he?" 

Langly coughed. "I hope not." 

Frohike stepped between them. "I think we've all been up a little
too late tonight, don't you?" He eyed first his friend, then the
secretary. 

She yawned. "Oh, please. Director Skinner's is so far away. I
won't be any trouble out here on the couch. Really?" 

Byers took her by the arm. "We have a guest bedroom. Vicky helped
me set it up while she was home last. If these cave-men haven't
used all the clean towels, it's yours for as long as you need it." 

She smiled her thanks as they went upstairs. 

                            --o-0-o--

Dulles Toll Road
Northern Virginia
Tuesday, 2:14 am

Rosen shook her head. "Nic, no matter how many times you tell me
not to worry, I still don't feel right about leaving you like
this." 

Nichols chewed his moustache, seeking a suitable excuse to put his
partner's mind at rest. "Would you feel better if we ran it past
Skinner? I'm certain Cynthia will be with the Gunmen until at
least tomorrow night, and he should be informed of her
whereabouts." 

She crossed her arms, clenching her fists tightly. "Does he need
to know?" 

Nichols sent her a tiny smile. "Not if you don't want him to." 

Her shoulders sagged. "OK. You know where he lives?" The words
were soft with acquiescence. 

Nichols nodded. "One too many Bureau functions at the Assistant
Director's home. Sharon enjoys throwing the occasional party." 

Rosen yawned. "Did you manage to get Alicia to any of those
affairs?" 

Nichols knuckles whitened on the steering wheel momentarily. "Lice
always felt inferior to the lovely Sharon. No matter how many
times I tried to reassure her, she never felt she could measure
up." He turned to face her momentarily. "Get some rest, Ros. It'll
be at least forty-five minutes from here back to Falls Church." 

Pulling her jacket closed around her, Rosen reclined her seat.
"Thanks, Nic." 

He shook his head. "Ah, thank me again, kid, and I'll see to it
that you do all the reports for Mulder for the next six months." 

Smiling at each other, Rosen making a mental note of how gravelly
her partner's baritone had become. 

                            --o-0-o--

Skinner Residence
Falls Church
Tuesday, 3:07 am

Nichols pulled his Dodge Dart up in front of Skinner's two story
colonial. Leaning over his partner, he decided to let her sleep
for a few more minutes. He'd smooth the way with the AD first,
before bringing her in for what he knew would be a difficult
conversation. That decided, he trotted towards the house, hearing
his left knee crack as he stretched after the drive. 

When he reached the front door, he was surprised to see light
spilling through the diamond window set at eye level in the steel,
so knocked more softly than he had intended to originally. 

Walter Skinner, barefoot, in jeans and a sweatshirt, opened it.
"Phil." The greeting was spoken without inflection. "Is it good
news or bad?" 

Nichols waved at the Dart. "Bad only for Agent Rosen. Her mother-
in-law has died and she's, well, she'd like to make her leave-
taking a bit more official." He rubbed the back of his neck. 

Walter Skinner's eyes travelled towards the car. "I didn't even
know she was married." His features softened from their Marine
rigor. "I'm afraid she's tried to pattern herself too closely
after Agent Scully." He craned his neck to peer into the darkness.
"Is Cynthia with you?" 

Nichols chuckled. "She's safe. She's back at the Gunmen's. This
was just supposed to be a quick run to the airport for us, but,
Ros..."

Leaning against the doorframe, the bald director rubbed the bridge
of his nose, pushing up his wire-rims as he did. "Safe,
definitely; sane remains to be determined. Ask Rosen to come up
here, if you would. Some things are more important than a twenty-
four-hour-a-day job." 

Without responding, Nichols trotted back to the car, tapping on
the glass by his partner's ear lightly. When she lifted her head,
he beckoned her out. 

After exiting, Rosen smoothed down her jacket. "Is everything OK?" 

Nichols grasped her elbow briefly. "The big cheese wants to talk
to you." 

Hazel eyes met brown momentarily, then the partners returned to
the house, Skinner stepping back to point them towards the living
room. A fire from the previous evening had burned down to the
occasional glowing in the ashes, leaving the room slightly cold.
Rosen tightened her jacket around herself. 

Skinner waved the agents to a long white sofa facing his armchair. 

"Walter?" Sharon's head appeared around the dark wood frame of the
hall entrance, rumpled from sleep. 

The Director made a point of crossing the room to kiss her gently,
then cup her cheek with one hand. "Just business, Sharon. I'll be
up shortly." After the head disappeared, he padded slowly back to
the velvet chair. 

Rosen cleared her throat. "Sir, we hate to interrupt you at this
time of night, but, I've had a family emergency come up and..." 

Skinner held up one hand. "No need to explain, Agent Rosen. Your
partner has presented the essential facts succinctly. I just
wanted to add a cautionary voice to his." He clasped his hands
between his knees. "This is a rough profession, Andrea." He waited
for the objection he would have expected from Scully, but when
none came, he continued. "Agent Nichols has no doubt related to
you his own difficulties." 

Rosen slid to the end of the cushions. "But, Sir, we're at a
critical juncture in several investigations. Cary can see to many
of the arrangements..." 

Skinner shook his head. "There will always be another critical
investigation, Rosen. Always. Family, however, is unique." He
leaned forward. "I don't know if there are problems back home
you're avoiding, but I can tell you from experience, that it won't
work. Don't lose what you have chasing something you can never
obtain." He waited, having spoken to what he assumed was the heart
of the matter. 

Rosen, seeing he had finished, simply nodded. She knew the
Assistant Director was a man of few words and that he had offered
these was a sign of the depths of his sincerity. "Thank you, Sir."
She pushed herself to her feet. "I'll take your advice." 

Nichols and Skinner stood as well, the Director escorting them to
the door. 

As they waited by the entrance, Rosen eyed a planter. "That's a
lovely Oriental vase you have, Sir. I didn't know they made those
in Vietnam." 

Skinner looked down, confused. "Sharon must have picked that up."
Distracted now, he bent over it. "Have a good flight, Rosen, and I
hope all goes well for you and your family." He was kneeling
beside it when Rosen checked back over her shoulder one final
time.

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Tuesday, 8:39 am 

Mulder paused at the bottom of the marble stairway when he spotted
the brown curls through the crowds. 

Scully, one step above him, turned to look down at him. "What?"
She followed his gaze to Rosen, dressed in a black wool pantsuit.
"It doesn't look like she has good news." 

The brunette agent came to a stop in front of them. "Sorry, guys,
but I wanted to let you know what had happened, in person." 

Mulder canted his eyes at his partner, uncertain as to what was
coming next. "Oh?" 

Scully shifted the thick stack of papers she was carrying. "What
is it?" 

Rosen sighed. "Director Skinner's been attacked. Nichols and I
stopped by last night to tell him where I was going. He found the
explosive device then, but I didn't realize it until Nichols
called me on the plane. By the time I arrived at Ithaca, I
couldn't get a flight out to tell you until a couple of hours
ago." She glanced at the strangers trotting up the steps. "It
isn't the sort of information one relates over the phone. You
never know who might be listening."

One auburn brow arched. "Ithaca?" 

Rosen looked to Mulder, who responded with a shrug. She gulped
once, then offered, "My mother-in-law passed away last night, so I
was flying back to Ithaca to see to my, ... , wife." She paled
slightly. 

Scully glanced at the white and grey stones beneath her feet. "I'm
sorry to hear that, Rosen." 

The astronomer frowned at Mulder. 

He responded simply. "She knows." He grasped the brunette's elbow
briefly. "I'm sorry, too. We're glad you stopped by to tell us. Do
you know anything more about Skinner?" 

Scully squared her shoulders. "What about Sharon Skinner? Is she
all right?" 

Rosen crossed her arms. "Nic said they were both OK. Director
Skinner had sent her away and was waiting by himself for the
Explosives team to arrive when he was knocked unconscious. Once
the bomb squad reached the house, the explosives were gone. He's
suffering from a mild concussion, Nichols said." 

Mulder looked down at his partner. "I wonder what new technology
the Shadows didn't want anyone to discover in that device?" 

Scully chewed her lower lip. "Or was is simply an attempt to keep
him from testifying for us?" She stepped up to Rosen, rubbing her
shoulder sympathetically. "You were wise to tell us in person.
We'll all have to be much more careful in the future. Make sure
you keep in touch with Nichols while you're back in Ithaca." 

A mirthless smile creased Rosen's face briefly. "Cary's mom's
family has been there for generations, always making trouble. But
I can go back to DC if you think that would be best." 

Scully returned to Mulder's side. "No. It sounds like the
situation is under control back in DC. Since you've adjusted to us
so easily, I'd figured you'd had practice with difficult
characters, Rosen. Keep us informed, but don't miss your plane." 

After exchanging nods, Rosen jogged to the taxi stand at the
corner. The partners resumed their ascent. 

Mulder pressed his hand into Scully's spine. "I wonder what's
coming next?" 

She brushed his side with her shoulder. "Probably nothing good." 

                            --o-0-o--

Courtroom
Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Tuesday, 10:12 am 

Judge Anderson, finished with arranging his papers, water pitcher,
and gavel, leaned out over the high dais. "Mister Pollack? Is your
next witness available to give testimony?" 

The grey-haired man rose. "Yes, Your Honor." 

Anderson waved his fleshy hand. "Very well, call your next
witness." 

The bailiff stood. "Will Michael Ross Luther please come forward?" 

Mulder and Scully were instantly on alert. 

The blue-shirted bailiff waved to one of the marshals in the back
of the courtroom, who stuck his head through the double doors and
shouted the name again. When the marshall moved aside, a slight,
balding man stepped into the courtroom. His undistinguished
appearance and grey suit barely caught the attention of the
audience, since the witness reminded most of them of some
accountant or middle level bureaucrat. 

All, that is, but the auburn-haired woman and her dark-haired
partner. Muttering, Scully was digging through the bag she had
dropped in the seat beside her, while Mulder, his arms splayed out
to the sides, was blocking the aisle. 

Anderson's gavel snapped on its granite base. "Mister Mulder!
Would you please explain the meaning of this outburst?" 

Saunders was shaking his head, then commented to Stone in a
subdued tone. "Here goes your case, just as I tried to warn you." 

Stone frowned. "What do you mean?" 

At Mulder's next words, the courtroom erupted into shouts and
confusion, while Scully covered her face with both hands. 

"Your Honor, that man is not human!" He bounded towards the
judge's bench, pointed backwards as he moved. "That *thing* is a
shape-shifting alien!" 

Anderson's only response was to smash the gavel, with its now-
cracked handle, and call repeatedly for order in his courtroom.

                            --o-0-o--

                End - Zurvan - The Daughter of Metis