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Title: Trinity
Author: XF-Stew
Classification: XA
Rating: R -- for language
Spoilers: Fourth Season
Keywords: A different kind of post-Gesthemane story
Summary: With the death of her partner, Scully takes over the reorganized X-Files Division with the aid of a NEW partner. But is Fox Mulder really dead? Scully thinks so. Will she learn the truth?

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer is in full effect. Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Maggie Scully, the Lone Gunmen, and (of course) the Cancerman all belong to Chris Carter and 1013. No infringement is intended.

---

TRINITY
by XF-Stew
xfstew@yahoo.com

~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement
Wednesday, May 28, 1997

Dana Scully sat quietly in the basement office she once shared with Fox Mulder. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. She dimly heard the sound of distant air conditioners roaring to life. Roaring to life to keep the federal employees of the FBI cool in the early-spring heat. It was just another day for them. For everyone else, it was just another day of paperwork and trips to the coffeepot and office gossip. For Dana Scully it was the first day of a new life. A life without Fox Mulder.

Slowly, mechanically, she turned her head to look at the "I WANT TO BELIEVE" poster adorning the wall. In fact, the poster was the first thing she noticed when she opened the door four years ago.

The X-Files had been her life since that day. Not that life with Mulder had been a bowl of cherries. There were plenty of hard times. Times where their lives were in danger. In fact, their lives had been in danger since that very first day.

<*"Nobody here but the FBI's most unwanted."*>

Tears filled her eyes at the memory. He spoke those words in gentle mockery. Poking fun at her presence, her intrusion upon his sacred quest. But last night, she had thrown them right back at him. She affirmed the fact that he was, indeed, unwanted. And stupid. And a gullible fool.

Well, he'd shown her, hadn't he. He'd shown her how much those words injured him. She'd baited him, told him he believed in the biggest of lies. Told him that they'd given her cancer to make him believe that lie. Why had she told him that? After holding her tongue so many times, why couldn't she have held it then? She'd played on the single most defining feature of Fox Mulder's character: guilt. She'd pushed that one lethal button, and now he was gone. Dead by his own hand. And it was her fault.

<What kind of a 'partner' does something like that? What kind of a friend? Only a completely insensitive one.>

She'd known Mulder was on shaky ground. Hell, his lost weekend in Massachusetts proved that. He'd held a gun to his head then as well. That night, she'd been supportive, but last night, when he desperately needed that same support, she'd failed him. She, his best friend, had gone ahead and pushed him right off the narrow line he'd been walking.

<I told him everything he believed in was a lie. That he'd been duped and made to look like a fool.>

Her eyes welled up with tears. She had tried so hard to keep them back during the meeting she'd just left. She'd quickly slipped away from the boardroom, knowing that they all wished to corner her, question her further, offer her their insincere condolences. She needed to escape, to be alone. She needed a quiet place to mourn the death of her best friend.

Now, here in the basement office where they'd worked together for so many years, she let it out. She lowered her head to the desk, buried her face in her arms, and burst into tears. Huge, heart-wrenching sobs escaped her throat as her body shook and shuddered in grief. On and on she cried, unaware of the dampening papers under her head.

Some time later she stopped crying and dozed, her head still laying on the wet, paper-strewn blotter.

************

She awoke abruptly, suddenly aware of a presence in the room. She lifted her tear-streaked face from the safety and darkness of her folded arms to see Walter Skinner standing in the doorway.

"Sir." she said, acknowledging him. She strove to regain some semblance of composure.

"Agent Scully," he replied with a nod.

"How long have you been standing there, sir?"

He shrugged, slightly cocking his head to one side as he entered the room. He thrust his hands into his pockets as he approached the desk. He stood there, silent for a moment, obviously struggling for the right words. He took in her teary eyes and red nose; this was not going to be easy.

"Agent Scully, I am truly sorry about the loss of Agent Mulder. He was a fine agent, and a good man. A man of unbending beliefs. We didn't always see eye-to-eye, and sometimes he made me want to pull out my few remaining hairs. However, I respected his integrity and his unflagging determination. He will be sorely missed in this division."

Scully tried hard to listen to his words, but her mind kept wandering away from the conversation. It was like he was speaking from the other side of a thick barrier. She knew it was one she herself had erected, and she strove to break it down. When Skinner's last words finally sunk in, she frowned, confused.

"Sir? This *division*? I had assumed with Agent Mulder's death, the X-Files Division would be terminated."

"It will be reorganized, Agent Scully, but not terminated."

Dumbfounded, Scully stared, open-mouthed, at the poster on the wall behind her superior. Then, rising to her feet, she suddenly flew into a rage.

"WHAT! For years, Mulder and I worked under the threat of this division's closure. It was the one card those bastards played every time we got close to something *they* didn't want let out of the bag. Evil little boys with their Goddamned secrets! They make me fucking sick!" She suddenly realized she was screaming, and using words that would make a sailor blush.

She took a deep breath, lowered her voice, and narrowed her eyes. "Now, when they finally have just what they want, when they finally get rid of the biggest thorn in their side, they keep the X-Files open." She eyed Skinner warily, "For what? So they can manipulate and control it? Use it as a puppet for their little games, their shady machinations? Do they want to use the X-Files as a tool, a tool which will unfailingly support their blatant lies and insidious half-truths? Is that what you're going to let them do to our work? Is it? Tell me if that's the future of the X-Files, sir. And tell me the truth, goddamnit!"

"Agent Scully," he said into her red, breathless face. "I remind you to watch your tone with me. I thought perhaps you would be pleased by the fact that Agent Mulder will leave the Bureau with something of a legacy. Mulder did a lot of good work, Agent Scully. I had tremendous respect for him and for his passion. Although he allowed himself to be sidetracked by his all-encompassing fascination with UFO-related phenomena, he was also an extremely intelligent, highly-effective field agent."

"Nobody knows that better than I do, sir."

"I realize that, Agent Scully."

"Oh, you realize that, do you? Yeah, you don't realize shit, *sir*!" She spat the words into his face. "Mulder and I went through hell for four years! We faced things most people could never even imagine! We looked into the very heart of evil, sir, and lived through it. And now...to die like this..." she trailed off, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. Her eyes once again filled with tears, but she would not spill those tears in front of Walter Skinner.

He looked at her, his face neutral, but she could see the tension building behind his eyes. "Agent Scully, I understand you're under a great deal of stress. The loss of a partner is one of the most traumatic experiences in our line of work. In light of that, I'm going to forget what you just said to me. In fact, I'm going to forget this entire conversation ever took place, and I advise you to do the same. Take some time off, Scully. I don't want to see you here again until this time next week."

Scully opened her mouth.

"I'm not giving you a suggestion, Agent Scully. This is a direct order coming from your immediate superior. I'll expect you back next Wednesday, a week from today."

With that he turned and left the office.

Scully listened to his footsteps recede down the corridor. She heard the chime of the elevator's bell as it reached the cold, dark basement. Faintly, she heard it close with Walter Skinner inside. It was only then that she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Struggling to remain calm, she picked up her briefcase, got her coat from off of its hook, and left the office herself. She locked the door that bore his name, as well as her own, and left the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana Scully's Apartment
Thursday, May 29, 1997

She slept fitfully that night. When she awoke, Scully instantly regretted the four stiff scotches she had consumed the night before. She rarely drank, but that night she wanted something to dampen the pain. The guilt. The feeling that she was lost, alone without him, without her partner. Now, her mouth was dry and her tongue was thick. She'd made a promise to herself last night. There would be no more crying, no more snivelling, no more gut-wrenching sobs. Her breakdown in the office was the only one she'd allow herself. She would shed no more tears for her dead partner. Scully drank a glass of water before picking up the phone. She slowly dialed the familiar number and was both soothed and apprehensive as her mother answered.

"Hello?"

"Mom, it's me."

"Hello honey." Margaret Scully said cheerfully. "How are you today?"

"Mom." Dana said coolly. "I have to tell you something. Can I come over?"

"Sure honey." Mrs. Scully said carefully. With some kind of 'mother's sixth sense', Maggie knew something was wrong with her daughter. Tentatively, she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm afraid not, Mom, but I have to see you in person to tell you this."

"Okay Dana, I'll be waiting."

"Sorry Mom..." she whispered.

"What? Sorry? About what Dana?"

But Scully didn't hear her mother. She'd already hung up, leaving Maggie staring worriedly at the buzzing receiver in her hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully House

Maggie answered the door, wondering why her daughter was knocking instead of just entering, as she usually did.

When she saw her daughter on the front porch, eyes red from fitful sleep, face devoid of makeup, hair in an uneven ponytail, Maggie stepped out and took her daughter's hands in her own. Scully stared down at the hands, refusing to meet her mother's eyes.

"What's the matter Dana?" her mother said gently.

"Oh Mom, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what honey? I don't understand?"

Scully regained the composure she had momentarily lost, then looked up and locked eyes with her mother. Her face was blank as a slate, her voice cool. "Mom, Mulder is dead."

Of all the things she thought her daughter might have come to tell her, she never expected this. Maybe they'd had a fight, or had been suspended again, or perhaps he had 'ditched' her once more (as Dana sometimes put it), but not this.

"No," she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Yes Mom. He died late Wednesday night of a self-inflicted gunshot wound." Dana paused, looking into the bushes. "I'm sorry Mom."

Maggie's arms instinctively flew around her daughter, and she began to stroke Dana's hair with one hand. Dana wrapped her arms around her mother, drawing from the older woman's strength. They stood like that for a long time.

Gingerly, she pulled away and held Dana by the shoulders. Dana lowered her eyes, staring at the cement underfoot. Maggie bent down, forcing her daughter into eye contact.

"Let's go inside." she suggested. She took hold of Dana's small hand and gently led her inside the large house.

The old familiar smells distinct to her mother's house assaulted her senses, and Scully allowed herself, for the first time since yesterday morning, a small sense of relief. The house had always been a haven for her. She felt at ease here, nothing bad could happen in this warm, safe place.

But something bad *was* going to happen. She was going to discuss with her mother the fact that Fox Mulder had committed suicide. This was news she knew would deeply disturb her mother's Catholic soul.

Mulder would never come over here for Sunday dinner again, as he used to occasionally do. Never light up the room with his disarming grin and witty repartee. Never chat with her mother on the phone for a few minutes before handing the receiver over to Dana. Never be around to spout wild theories and implausible hypotheses about the death of Elvis, paranormal phenomena, or extraterrestrial biological entities.

She thought about the relationship between her mother and her partner. Over the past few years, they had formed some kind of strange bond that made Dana simply shake her head in wonder. She never would have expected the two of them to ever become so close. They were so completely different, but perhaps that was the very thing that drew them together. Dana thought it was possible that Maggie provided the openness, warmth and comfort Mulder lacked in his relationship with his own mother. She knew they had become very close during her abduction. Afterwards, whenever her mother called, she always inquired as to how 'Fox' was doing.

<"Not Fox, Mom, *Mulder*.">

"What happened, Dana?" Maggie asked, bringing Dana abruptly back to the matter at hand.

"Mulder...he...he killed himself last night with his service weapon. He shot himself in the head, mother." Dana's voice was steady, almost mechanical, as though she was discussing a case, or an autopsy she had performed. In this same mechanical, emotionless voice, she stated, "It's my fault. I pushed him over the edge."

Maggie blinked. "No, honey. That can't be right." She wanted so badly to embrace her tension-ridden daughter again, but kept herself in check, knowing it was not the right thing to do yet. Dana had more to tell her. Swallowing hard, she asked, "Why do you think that, Dana?"

"I said something stupid and extremely inconsiderate, and it was apparently the straw that broke the camel's back."

"What did you say to him?"

Dana drew a long breath, prepared to go into lecture mode. "I told him that UFO's and alien abductions are all a fabrication, a lie proported by...never mind that. I told him he believed in the biggest of lies, that his whole mission in life was based upon an intricate confabulation, a web of lies spun for people like himself to believe. And I...I told him that our enemies had given me cancer so that he would maintain his unwavering belief in alien abductions and the existence of extraterrestrial life."

Margaret stiffened slightly. "Is that true?"

"I think it is Mom. I met a man who told me its true, and I believe him. He had no reason to lie to me about it."

<Unless he knew you'd tell Fox that, and knew what that would do to him.> Margaret thought.

"Mom, It was a completely thoughtless, stupid statement to make to a man like Mulder. I knew he was walking on thin ice. It was just a few weeks ago that he took that trip to New England. Mom, he almost killed himself then, too." Dana was intentionally obscure with the details of this trip, and about the government machinations that worked against them. She had to be careful what she told her mother about their work...*their work*! It was no longer *their work*. She was alone now. "I should have known better than to taunt him like that. I was angry. Sometimes his stubbornness just drives me...to say things I regret. Why couldn't I have held it back? I should have been able to hold it back."

Maggie could not watch her daughter do this to herself. "Dana, no matter what you said, no matter what you did, Fox was a man who has *always* walked on thin ice. He had his demons, Dana, as do you. People have to deal with their own demons. Some do it by sharing with others, some seek professional therapy, but many keep the demons bottled up inside. You know how much pressure was building up in Fox's bottle. You did not set him off, honey. His was a self-implosion. It is cruel to say, but you were not responsible for his actions. I can only hope that God can forgive him, and that he can forgive himself."

"Forgive himself?"

"I think you know what I mean."

Despite her cool exterior, Dana could barely understand the English language at the moment, let alone find hidden meanings buried within her mother's words. But she let it go, content to be here, with her mother, the only one who might possibly make her feel like a human being again. She hugged her mother for a long time, and allowed Maggie to rub her gently on the back, knowing her mother needed this as much as she did.

They sat on the couch and drank hot tea, not speaking for long periods. Each was lost in her own thoughts and memories, comforted by the other's mere presence. Maggie asked Dana if she wanted to stay for the night, but she declined, enticing as the offer was. She told her mother she had to go home tonight. She needed to be alone for awhile.

Reluctantly, Margaret Scully hugged her only daughter on the doorstep as she turned to leave.

"Thank you Mom." Dana said, forcing a toothless smile to her lips. "I love you."

"I know that Dana, and I love you too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana Scully's Apartment
Friday, May 30, 1997

Caroline Mulder called her at noon. Mrs. Mulder told her that her son's body was to be cremated that afternoon, but that there would be a memorial service at Arlington on Monday if she'd like to attend. There was a coolness in the woman's voice, but Scully hadn't spoken with her enough to know if it was her natural tone, or one of controlled anger.

Dana gave Mrs. Mulder her condolences, but wasn't sure what else to say to the woman. Mulder and his mother had a different kind of relationship than she had with her own. They weren't openly affectionate, but Mulder obviously had deep feelings for her. Scully remembered the time when Caroline suffered a stroke. Mulder was devastated, which was natural for a child when tragedy strikes a parent, but his was something even more. Mulder felt guilty even about his mother's condition, something he was by no means responsible for. Scully had the nagging feeling it went deeper than that. Mulder felt guilty because he thought his mother was going to die before he reunited her with her daughter, Samantha. He never gave up the hope that his sister was still alive, and Scully suddenly came to the realization that, in Fox Mulder's somewhat skewed perception, he could win Caroline's love back by finding Samantha and finally bringing her home to their mother.

"Are you going to come on Monday?" Caroline was saying. The question brought Scully out of her reverie.

"Of course, Mrs. Mulder."

"Then...do you think...do you think that you could possibly speak on Fox's behalf?"

Dana was stunned. Give the eulogy at Fox Mulder's funeral? She didn't even want to think about it. However, under the cool voice of Caroline Mulder Dana thought she heard a plea. The woman could not bring herself to speak. So she was asking her son's closest colleague and quite probably his closest friend to do it for her.

Scully summoned her courage. "Yes, I would be honored, Mrs. Mulder."

The voice on the other end was a whisper, "Thank you." Scully heard the relief in Mrs. Mulder's voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unknown Location
Sunday, June 1, 1997

The man shook his head in an effort to clear away the fog, but it was no use. He knew he was laying in a strange bed, and a distant light was streaming in from somewhere, somewhere far away. Reluctantly, he lay back down and drifted once more into the fog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arlington National Cemetery
Monday, June 2, 1997

"I could stand before you today and say many things about Fox Mulder. That he was passionate. That he was dedicated. That he was relentless. These things would all be true. But I have not come here today to speak only of these things. I have come here to speak not just of Fox Mulder, my co-worker, but of Mulder, my friend. The two are irrevocably bound together, and through our work, I found the best friend I have ever had."

"Hmmm, Fox Mulder," She gave a small smile. "I called him Fox only once over all the time I knew him. It is strange that after his death I would say this name more than I ever did during his lifetime.

"As clearly as I see you all sitting before me, I remember the day I met Mulder. As I entered the basement office I now know so well, he turned away from what I later found to be one of his favorite pastimes: preparing a slide show presentation for me. It was clear during that first encounter that Mulder was wary of my presence. I'd heard he was a man of unique intellect. That he was an independent loner, a solitary genius, content in his basement office with his personal obsession: The X-Files. Others scoffed at him, at his work, and as a result he insulated himself with cutting remarks and biting sacasm. He made it a point to laugh at those who laughed at him.

"Over time, I experienced many things with Mulder. Things others would not believe, things I had trouble believing myself. But if there was one thing I always had faith in, it was my partner, Fox Mulder. We didn't always see things the same way, but nonetheless, I always respected his unflagging determination and his unfailing faith in extreme possibilities. His dedication to what he deeply believed drew me even closer to him.

"Over the years, our professional partnership expanded into something even deeper: personal loyalty and absolute trust. I trusted Mulder with my life, and I believe he did the same. As time went on, I came to realize that this was something infinitely special. Trust, to Mulder, was a precious commodity, one which he rarely bestowed upon others."

She took a deep breath, "Last week, I betrayed that trust. I stood in front of my partner, my best friend, and told him he had dedicated his life to a false dream, a fabrication built to epic proportions inside his own mind. I told him that his inherent paranoia was a construct of his own imagination. That he was simply a marionette on the strings of a master puppeteer.

"There are few things I regret in my life, but my actions last week leave me with a deep sense of compunction. I can only say now what I should have said to him then. I am sorry. Truly sorry."

She paused, fighting to maintain her composure. Her eyes panned the crowd, not really seeing them. She saw only the small urn, sitting on a pedestal to her right. She fought to keep her voice from wavering as she continued:

"Fox Mulder was a man of deep convictions, of fierce loyalties, and of uncompromising character. Some may have mocked my partner, deriding his theories as flights of fancy. These are the people who never knew him. they never saw the integrity, the determination, the sharp intelligence so often used to make fascinating leaps of logic. They never knew the man who committed his life to a search for the truth. I knew him, and I loved him. He was my partner, my friend, and, in a very special way, a member of my family. I will miss you, Fox Mulder, and as I walk through this life, I will remember you always."

Scully stepped away from the podium erected at the small graveside service. Her hands were empty, and she grasped her elbows with them as she walked back to her seat. On her right sat her mother, clutching a handkerchief. On her left was Caroline Mulder.

Mrs. Mulder reached over and touched her arm. Scully glanced over at the woman, who had tears coursing down her face.

"Thank you." she whispered. Scully smiled sympathetically at her former partner's mother and put her own small hand over the one resting on her arm.

"No, thank you." Scully replied, looking her in the eye and forcing a thin smile to her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unknown Location
Tuesday, June 3, 1997

The man looked around the room, still trying to shake off the fog. Everything shimmered and danced in front of his bleary eyes. He was incapable of any sort of focus. His head spun like a wild merry-go-round, out of control. He began to feel nauseous.

A small man entered the room, and a taller man with unkempt blond hair followed. He couldn't make out their faces, and their voices seemed far away.

"He's still out of it." The short man said in a gravely voice.

"Its going to take awhile, he told me it wouldn't completely leave his system for 10 days." The long-haired man replied.

"I'm not worried about the time he'll be out. It's when he comes back...that's what worries me."

The younger man nodded. They checked the man's IV, pulled the thin blanket up to his chest, and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Wednesday, June 4, 1997
10:30 am

Dana Scully walked into the basement office, and the ghost of Fox Mulder followed her. He peered over her shoulder as she made the coffee. He sat across from her as she slumped into the chair at her desk. She felt his gaze on her as her eyes wandered around the office. They rested on one of his favorite toys; the slide projector. She stood and walked over to it, touching the dusty plastic surface with her fingertips. She pulled down the screen along the wall and turned the machine on. Still inside were the slides he had shown her of the "alien" once buried in the Yukon ice of northern Canada. She turned the blasted machine off and wandered over to the file cabinets. She pulled out the third drawer and ran her fingers over the folders inside until she found the one she was seeking.

*Samantha Mulder* the label read.

She opened it and once again laid eyes on the now-familiar picture of a young girl in a bathing suit. She sat on the diving board at a city pool and smiled unabashedly into the camera. Scully ran her fingers over the girl's innocent face. Lost in her reverie, Scully was startled by a tentative knock on the office door, which, as usual, was standing open.

In the darkened doorway stood a tall young woman with wire-rimmed glasses. She was well-dressed in a dark suit and although Scully couldn't see her face well in the shadows, she looked lost, as though perhaps she had taken a wrong turn in the hallway. Not that there were any other offices in the basement.

"Can I help you?" Scully asked.

"Yes, my name is Megan Largo, I'm looking for Special Agent Scully. Is that you?" She had a pleasant voice, but there was a strange cadence to her speech, a careful, precise enunciation which nagged at Scully as familiar, but which she couldn't immediately place.

"I'm Scully."

There was silence for a moment. Scully broke it.

"Are you filling in for Tommy today?" Tommy DeVries was an intern who often brought inter-office messages down and delivered the daily mail.

"Tommy?"

"From the mailroom?" Scully added to clarify.

The girl expelled her breath in a small snort, then gave a wry smile. "No. I should have been clearer. I'm Special Agent Largo. I've been assigned to assist you in the reorganization of the X-Files."

She paused, gauging the smaller woman's reaction. She appeared stunned, and certainly was not pleased by the news.

"Judging from your reaction," Largo continued, "I'm guessing that you haven't yet been informed of this development?"

Scully returned the file to the cabinet with shaky fingers. She tried to control the rage that flew through her body. She forced herself to gently close the drawer instead of slamming it, as she really, really wanted to do. She then turned back to the young woman, who still stood in the shadows of the doorway, and calmly said, "Come in, Agent Largo."

The tall woman stepped tentatively into the room, aware that she was the interloper, the intruder. Scully took the opportunity to size up the woman.

She was extremely young-looking, which explained why she originally thought Largo was an intern. Off-hand, Scully would have put her age at no more than 22. She had a dark olive complexion, but her eyes were sea-green, instead of the brown one would expect of a person with her skin tone. She was tall, about 5'9" by Sculy's estimate. Her hair was dark brown, just this side of black, but was peppered with sun-bleached streaks of a lighter shade. The woman's somewhat incongruous features made Scully assume her to be the product of some type of odd ethnic mix. She was of medium build, with an athletic gracefulness that indicated co-ordination and strength beneath her frame. The white blouse she wore under her black suit accentuated the healthy color of her dark skin, but hung somewhat loosely about the neck, suggesting that perhaps the woman had lost some weight recently. Adding further proof to this was her gaunt face, which looked a little thinner than Scully figured was probably normal for her. The most disturbing feature on the young woman's face was her right eye. Under the silver-rimmed glasses she wore was a dark smudge, the remnants of a black eye. In addition to this, the white of that eye was almost completely red. Disconcerting as this was, Scully tried not to stare at it.

"It's nice to meet you, Agent Largo." Scully forced a smile. "No, I wasn't aware of your assignment to this division, but then, I've just returned from a short leave."

"Yes." Largo said, nodding slightly. "I am sorry about the loss of your partner, Agent Mulder. His name used to come up often when I was at the Academy. From what I heard, he was quite impressive, had a knack for behavioral psychology and criminal profiling."

<So--she's taking the diplomatic approach.> Scully thought, <Not going to call him "Spooky" right to my face.>

"Yes...he did have quite a reputation."

"He will be impossible to replace."

Scully jerked her head up at the young agent's words. They locked eyes, and Scully shivered involuntarily. The woman's brutal honesty and admittal of her inability to compare with Mulder hit Scully hard. She wanted to hate the girl, and she sure as hell didn't trust her. There was no doubt in her mind Largo was a pawn of the Consortium. She was part of the mop-up crew charged to 'sanitize' her department. But the woman's almond-shaped eyes were so candid, so open. She was either earnest in her words, or else she was a very convincing liar.

Just then the phone rang.

"Scully." she said into the receiver.

"Agent Scully, this is Kimberly." Kim was AD Skinner's assistant. "The Assistant Director would like to see you in his office immediately."

"Thank you Kimberly, I'm on my way now."

Scully replaced the receiver and stood. She held a piece of paper in her hand, using it as a prop to avoid eye contact with Largo. This whole situation was making her very uncomfortable. Rarely did anyone except Mulder, occasionally Skinner, and herself enter the office. Largo was trespassing, and she, Scully, was going to have to leave her there alone. A voice in the back of her head told her to make Largo come with her, or to send her on an errand and lock the door behind her. But no, she couldn't do that. It was far too obvious, and would let Largo know her own doubts and fears. Better to let the girl roam down here, thinking Scully was oblivious to her actual purpose.

"I've been called to a meeting with Assistant Director Skinner. If you like, you're welcome to stay down here."

"Agent Scully, I understand that this is difficult for you. Believe me, I *do* understand. If you would prefer I leave, I will. I'm sure you would like to take care of some details here without my presence." She indicated Mulder's messy desk with a small jerk of her head. "Why don't I just leave you for today, give you some time. I'll be back tomorrow morning, and we can start this whole thing over. Okay?"

Scully thought this over for a second, then nodded. It was definitely unexpected. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea."

Largo turned to go. Scully called out to her.

"And Largo...I'm sorry I thought you were from the mailroom."

The woman smiled briefly, showing a set of brilliantly white teeth. "No problem Scully, I get that kind of thing all the time."

With that she turned and walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AD Skinner's office
11:15 am

Skinner rose to his feet as Scully entered the office.

"Good Morning, Agent Scully. Take a seat." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "I trust you're feeling somewhat better than when we last spoke."

"Somewhat." Scully answered tersely.

"Agent Scully, I called you in here today to discuss the reorganization of the X-Files Division. I would like to officially state that you have been selected as the new head of the division."

"Thank you, sir." She nodded her head in acceptance of her new status.

"I also need to define the new range of cases which will be directed to your office. You will still investigate cases involving unexplained phenomena, including cases linked to possible psychic or paranormal occurrences. However, you will not be asked to investigate unconfirmed sightings of unidentified flying objects or possible alien abductions. I do not expect to find you involved with any such cases. Occasionally, you will be called in on cases which may have a link to your past work. Note, however, that this will not include any UFO-related cases. Regional agents may request your presence in any unsolved case surrounded by bizarre or unexplained events or actions. This includes unsolved murder cases, kidnappings, mutilations, et cetera. Is this clear, Agent Scully?"

Again she nodded, "Yes, sir."

"You will also be assigned a new partner."

"Yes, I know that, sir."

Skinner paused. "You know?"

"Yes, I just met my new *partner*, sir. She stopped by my office just before you called." Scully's face remained placid, no small feat, considering the anger which was seething inside her.

"I see." He sat back in his chair. "I apologize, Agent Scully. Agent Largo wasn't due to arrive here until tomorrow. I didn't realize she would be so...eager...to begin work."

"Oh, she seems eager enough, sir." Scully said wryly. "I just didn't know the Bureau was immune to child labor laws."

"Agent Scully, I really don't need to hear this from you. It is true that Agent Largo is young, and she looks even younger than she actually is, but I don't think you realize how hard I had to fight to get her assigned to your division."

"What?! You're responsible for her presence! You were the one who appointed an *adolescent* to one of the most difficult and dangerous assignments within the Bureau? And by the way, when did the Bureau begin to partner women together, sir?"

"I realize this is a highly unusual situation, Agent Scully, but I felt you would be much better off with Agent Largo than with any of the male candidates eligible. Megan Largo may not have many years under her belt, but I assure you she is an extremely competent field agent with an outstanding intelligence to match. She's very perceptive and has an incredible presence in the interrogation room. You should have seen the list they submitted to me, Scully. Full of has-beens, greenhorns, and burn-outs. Consider yourself fortunate I was able to get her on that list. I had to pull every string I had to get her past *them* and on to you. It wasn't easy." He lowered his voice and leaned over the desk. "I know you think she's one of their puppets," he whispered through clenched teeth, "but she's not. I know that for a fact."

"With all due respect, sir, sometimes your decisions are not completely your own. I realize that."

After a long moment, he nodded. "Yes, you're right in that assessment, Scully. But this time, you're going to have to trust me."

"Yes, I do have to trust you, sir. I have no choice. I appreciate the fact that I have been allowed to remain with the X-Files instead of being transferred back to Quantico, or being forced to go on leave. In regards to Agent Largo, time will tell, sir."

"Yes, I suppose it will." He pushed a thin folder across the desk. "Here's Largo's personnel file. I would recommend a close reading. You may find it interesting. If you have no further questions, Agent Scully, you are dismissed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Basement
12:30 pm

Scully ate her lunch while reading the personnel file on her new "partner". She sifted through the short stack of papers, reports, and evaluations trying to get a sense of just exactly who this mysterious young woman was.

Megan Winuna Largo: Born: 4/28/71 in Mankato, Minnesota.

<So, she's 26-years-old. Sure doesn't look it.> Scully thought, <And what kind of name is 'Winuna' anyway?>

Mother: Mary Wicanhpi Largo (maiden name: Little Bear) Born: 10/2/50 Died: 9/23/79.

Father: Patrick James Largo Born: 7/8/49 Died: 5/13/85

Immediate Family: *Michael Largo (Brother) Born: 4/28/71 Currently resides in Redwood Falls, MN. *Joseph Little Bear: (Maternal Grandfather) Born: 12/5/21 Currently resides in Redwood Falls, MN.

Ethnic Background: American Indian and Caucasian.

<Well, that explains the strange middle name.>

Scully continued reading the file, hoping to gain a little insight on Largo's character:

Megan Largo graduated from Cannon High School in St. Paul, MN in 1987, when she was 16. She went on to the University of Minnesota, majoring in History and Criminology, and receiving her Bachelor's Degrees in 1990, at age 19. In addition, she participated in inter-collegiate athletics as a member of the University's softball team. Upon graduation, Largo proceeded to graduate school at Northwestern, where she received a Master's Degree in Criminology *and* a Ph.D. in History. She received these degrees in 1993, at age 22.

Scully was impressed. Largo was some kind of a whiz kid. She turned the page. Here was a short statement regarding a trip to the USSR made by a group of promising young musicians. Largo was a part of this group, but was mysteriously sent home three weeks into the trip. The statement, given by the group's director, read:

"Megan Largo has been asked (by myself) to leave the Soviet

Union and return to the United States. This decision was

made as a result of Ms. Largo's grossly improper conduct

during her stay in St. Petersburg, Kiev, and especially

in Moscow. Repeatedly, Ms. Largo refused to follow rules established in our Ambassadorship Program's handbook, and

is therefore being sent back to Minneapolis on TWA Flight 795.

Ms. Largo will be foregoing membership in our group, and

will not accompany us on any future trips abroad.

Signed, Albert F. Fredrickson, Director."

Scully frowned at the piece of paper. What the hell did Largo do to get kicked out of the Soviet Union? Smoke dope? Make subversive statements regarding Communism? She shrugged and moved on. The rest of the file held official Bureau documents regarding Largo's tenure in the FBI.

She placed high in her class at Quantico, and upon graduation was assigned to the office in Portland, Oregon, where she worked for three years with a man named Benjamin Campbell. Campbell, a young African-American man, was only two years older than Largo. From what Scully could glean from the file, this pairing was intentional. Largo and Campbell often worked in co-operation with the DEA, their youthful looks allowing them to pose as college students in order to set up large drug purchases.

This past February, the two agents were working one of these such cases, trying to expose a meth lab run by a group that was suspected of dropping LSD into a professor's coffee, effectively killing him. According to the official report in Largo's file, the agents were driving from Eugene to Portland along the I-5 freeway. Just outside of town, Largo lost control of the vehicle, a 1968 VW Bus, and drove off the road at approximately 65 miles-per-hour. A single-car accident. Campbell died of a massive heart attack en route to the hospital. Largo spent two weeks in Sacred Heart Hospital in Eugene. She suffered from major head trauma, a broken clavicle, retinal damage to the right eye, and LSD poisoning.

Scully rubbed her eyes. LSD poisoning was a rare occurrence, but nonetheless a very dangerous one. Often, the victim suffered powerful hallucinations and possible seizures. In its aftermath, LSD poisoning could lead to permanent neural damage or deep psychosis. Violent flashback episodes were common, and were sometimes severe to the point of physiological non-functioning. Some victims developed paranoid schizophrenia after ingesting a sufficiently large dosage. If they even lived. Many died of massive heart failure due to the extreme adrenaline rush that accompanies the hallucinations. This was probably the fate of Benjamin Campbell and the college professor who's death brought the two to Eugene in the first place. Scully took a deep breath and continued reading the report.

A container of bottled water found near the car was identified as the source of the LSD the agents ingested. In her statement, Largo said she often kept a bottle in the car, and they both drank from it shortly before the accident.

Largo briefly returned to work six weeks after the accident. Her second day back, however, she was suspended for assaulting a co-worker, and was placed on indefinite leave. Scully raised her eyebrow at this and read the official report on the incident. In Largo's statement, she claimed:

 "Special Agent Robert Lynch made ungentlemanly remarks

concerning a less-than-professional relationship between

my former partner and myself. I became angry and told

him I didn't appreciate his comments. He replied with

abusive language, repeatedly using offensive slang terms

for female anatomy. I lost my temper and struck him on

the temple with a large paperweight from my desk. I

apologize to the Bureau for my inappropriate behavior,

however, I will not be forthcoming with an apology to

Agent Lynch."

Scully smiled at the thought of Largo whacking some guy upside the head with a paperweight because he called her a "cunt". She's been tempted to do something similar on many occasions over the years, but had never acted on the impulse. There were written as well as unwritten rules about such conduct. Then she remembered the time Mulder decked Skinner a few years ago. He'd been disoriented because of ingesting LSD as well, though Mulder had received a much lower dosage that had Largo. The thought of Mulder broke her concentration, and it was some time before she could pull her eyes off the "I WANT TO BELIEVE" poster on the wall to look at the file once more.

When she did, she read that Largo had been placed on indefinite leave in mid-April, and hadn't worked actively for the Bureau since. This was her first assignment since coming back. No wonder Skinner had been able to get her on the list of possible replacements for Mulder. She was definitely on shaky ground with the Bureau.

Scully shook her head, her anger with the Assistant Director beginning to return. She remembered the words he had uttered just a few hours ago.

"You should have seen the list they submitted to me. Full of has-beens, greenhorns, and burn-outs..."

<Thanks a lot, Skinner> she thought, <Instead of a burn-out, I get a flashback-prone psychotic who looks like she's 20 and has a boat load of emotional baggage. Just what I need in my life right now.>

She sat for a moment, utterly still. Then she slowly turned her head back to the poster on the wall. It would be so easy to give in, especially now. Just go on medical leave and forget all of this. Mulder was gone. This was *his* life, not hers.

No, that wasn't true. Maybe it was that way once, but not now, not anymore. It was her life as well, wasn't it? Mulder's legacy to her: inheritance of the X-Files. In her mind she pictured a fat, greasy, cigar-chomping lawyer sitting at the head of a long table. He cleared his throat and in a raspy voice declared, "Mr. Spooky bequeaths the X-Files to Mrs. Spooky."

And along with the X-Files, she now had a partner who could very possibly be prone to violent hallucinogenic flashbacks, rendering anything she wrote in a report as suspect in regard to credibility. Largo was going to have to prove herself, not just to Scully, but to the entire Bureau. Of course, it was indeed possible that Largo would never experience a flashback episode. And until she did have an adverse physiological reaction to the event, the Bureau had to treat her like any other agent.

<But if she does flip out, especially if she hits another agent again, her career is over.>

Scully closed the folder and slumped back in her chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unknown Location
Thursday June 5, 1997
9:00 am

He was groggy, but, for the first time in days, he felt lucid. He sat up in the bed and winced as a rush of light-headed giddiness soared through his body. Reaching an arm out, he steadied himself by touching the smooth, cold cement wall. When the dizziness passed, he opened his eyes and saw an IV running into the back of his right hand.

Confused, he gazed around the room, searching for familiarity. The room's lone door opened and a small middle-aged man with glasses came through it and toward him. The man looked vaguely familiar.

<I know him,> he thought, <but I can't *remember* him.>

"Hey there, old man!" the short man said, grinning. "Looks like you finally decided to rejoin us in the land of the living."

"Who...who are you?" he croaked, his throat painfully dry.

"Its me Mulder, your old pal Frohike."

"Fro-what-ie?"

"Frohike." the man repeated, and handed Mulder a glass of water. "Drink this slowly or else you'll erp it back up, which is a sight I'm not particularly anxious to see."

Mulder drank, making himself take small sips. After several, he said, "I know you, don't I?"

"Course ya do, Mulder. You just don't remember right now. Your memory will come back in a couple of days. It's one of the side effects of the drug."

"Drug?"

"Duh...the drug we gave you so you could pretend to be dead. Pretty powerful stuff, it pretty nearly did the job for real."

"I pretended to be dead?"

"Yeah, but as Miracle Max would say: 'You were only *mostly* dead.' Oh man, we pulled off one of the greatest clandestine operations of all-time." The man was grinning like an idiot. "I still can't believe it worked, even Scully bought it!"

"Scully?" Mulder asked, genuinely puzzled by the name. "Who's he?"

"HE! Oh, that's a good one, Mulder!" Frohike snorted laughter. "*HE* is only the most utterly divine presence on this great planet. *HE* is the hottest thing to hit the spy game since Mata Hari. *HE* is the one who sets my pants on fucking fire!"

"So...you're gay?" Mulder asked tentatively, his brow creased in puzzlement.

Frohike burst out in a whole new set of chortles, tears streaming down his stubble face. When he regained control he replied, "No, Mulder. Scully is your partner, and she is female. Oh," he rolled his eyes, "is she female! Red hair like liquid fire..."

"Enough already," Mulder cut him off, shaking his head.

Just then Langley and Byers entered the room, both grinning happily as they slapped a bewildered Mulder on the back and welcomed him once more to the land of the living.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Thursday June 5, 1997
9:15 am

Megan Largo rapped on the open door to the X-Files Division's basement office. Normally, she came to work no later than 8:00 am, but intentionally made herself delay this morning. She wanted to make sure Scully was already in the office before she arrived.

Scully looked up at the knock. "Come in, Agent Largo."

"Good morning."

Largo looked around the office for a moment. She noticed Scully had cleaned off the messy desk and was now seated behind it. She had removed Fox Mulder's nameplate from the front of the desk, but had not replaced it with one of her own. The "I WANT TO BELIEVE" poster still hung just over Scully's left shoulder.

Scully waved her hand toward a drafting table that sat back in the corner of the office, facing the wall. "You're welcome to take that area over there."

Largo nodded and placed her attach‚ case on the table's surface. There was an awkward silence between the two agents. Finally, Largo asked,

"So, Agent Scully, how would you like to proceed?"

"First of all, I think you should acquaint yourself with this department's history. You are welcome to review any files here. We have yet to be assigned any new cases, and I'm just finishing some paperwork left from...before."

"Certainly." Largo gave a small smile, which was not returned. Undaunted, Largo sat down, swiveled her chair around to face the elder agent, and said, "Agent Scully, I am aware of the fact that you are uncomfortable with my presence here so soon after...after your last partner. I cannot do anything about that. I only hope that I will be able to prove my worth to you over time."

"I hope so too."

With that, Largo stood and walked over to the battered gray filing cabinet. She opened the top drawer and flipped through the files inside. She tried to get a sense of exactly what kind of cases were handled in this division. She ran her fingers across red tabs reading, "Vampirism", "Visionary Encounters With The Dead", and "Witchcraft." The witchcraft file was unusually thick. Interesting. She kept flipping through; "Phrenology", "Psychic Photography", "Psychic Healing".

She pulled out some particularly interesting files (like they weren't all pretty weird), and moved down to the next drawer. Here the files were labeled by name. She scanned the filed idly, not really looking for anything. Suddenly, she stopped. Went back. "Dana Scully" the label read. In fact, there were two files bearing the name. With a sidelong glance at Scully, who was bent over the desk, filling out forms, she pulled the files from the drawer and added them to her growing pile. Although Scully had been given Largo's personnel file to review, she had not been able to get any more information on her new partner other than what Skinner outlined in her briefing. She was interested in the small red-haired woman with eyes of steel.

As she looked through the cabinet, Largo noticed that there were no files dealing with anything remotely resembling unidentified flying objects, alien abductions, or extraterrestrial biological entities. She wondered if Scully had taken them out, or if they had been removed by others during Scully's leave. After picking up a few more files, Largo returned to the table and began reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lone Gunmen HQ
12:00 pm

Mulder took a much needed shower and ate some soup. Now he sat, fresh and clean, in a large, dark room filled with a truckload of crap. The walls were lined with computer equipment and electronic recording devices. Tables were filled with miscellaneous junk; photos, newspapers, transistors, and unidentifiable paraphernalia. Mulder raised his eyebrows at the clutter.

"Okay," Langley began, drawing a deep breath, "so here's how we did it. You called us a week ago Wednesday, whining and crying and saying how Scully thought UFO's were faked by the shadow government and that they gave her cancer so that you would believe in them."

"Scully has cancer?" Mulder interrupted.

"Yeah, and its terminal."

"My partner's going to die?" Mulder asked, astonished by the news. He didn't even remember Scully at the moment, but the news upset him deeply.

"Maybe, maybe not. A large part of why you did this was so she wouldn't."

"Wait a minute." Mulder held up a hand. "How does my pretending to die cure someone of cancer?"

Frohike turned to Byers and Langley, "Maybe we should wait till his memory comes back. It'll be easier that way."

"Too late, guys," Mulder said, "I'm curious now. I've got to know. I promise to shut up and let you tell the rest of the story."

"Okay then," Langley picked up the story once more, "so you call us saying you have to fake your own death. It was the only way to end this mess and allow them to cure Scully. You said this new development was going to end Bureau support for the X-Files, and your search for your sister."

Mulder wanted to interrupt. What was this about his sister? But he held his tongue, remembering his promise to keep quiet.

"You said Scully would never get the cure you knew *They* had if you were alive. So, we put our heads together and came up with a plan."

"A dangerous one." Byers added, picking up the tale. "It involved an extensive amount of cosmetics, some bovine blood, and an experimental drug known as KCP."

"Knocks you on your ass," Frohike interjected, "as you can attest to."

Mulder just nodded, becoming engrossed in the tale.

Byers continued. "Injecting you, doing the make-up, getting the splatter pattern right; that was the easy part. The hard part came after you were 'dead.'"

"Yeah," Langley interrupted, "for one, we needed to get Scully to see the body in the apartment, *not* in the morgue."

"So, we worked our magic on the phone lines *and* intercepted the police band frequency near your apartment. The police believed they were talking to a dispatcher, when they were really getting through to Langley out in the van. Frohike posed as the doctor. He pronounced you dead. Using a voice diffuser, we called Scully down to I.D. your body, praying she wouldn't get too close."

"Yes," Frohike smiled wolfishly, "the lovely doctor has quite a little head on those shoulders. She sees enough dead bodies to know the real McCoy."

"Well, Mulder," Byers said, looking into his eyes, "judging from the speed with which she left the building, she was convinced. And pretty upset. She bought it, though, and that was step one. Frohike, who stayed out of sight during Scully's visit, reappeared and told the cops he was calling the ME to take the body away."

"Let me guess," Mulder interrupted, "*you* were the ME."

"Of course." Byers grinned boyishly, his small face all aglow. "We even managed to get you a real death certificate, it's on file and everything. Scully was sent on leave, so she never even got a sniff of the morgue. Now, all existing paperwork says that you were cremated, placed in an urn, given a lovely funeral at Arlington, and right now you're probably sitting on your mother's mantle back on the Vineyard."

"My mother...ahh." Mulder dropped his head into his hands.

The Lone Gunmen were silent. they exchanged furtive glances, each uncomfortable with their friend's grief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J Edgar Hoover Building
12:50 pm

Scully looked up from her paperwork as her stomach rumbled for the third time. Largo had been quietly reading files all morning. She seemed engrossed, and had been glued to her seat since sitting down there over three hours ago.

"Largo?"

"Yeah?" She looked up, somewhat surprised that Scully was instigating a conversation. The woman hadn't said a word all morning. It was unnerving, but had allowed her to read through nearly all the files in her pile. She was fascinated by them, and, for the first time, was very excited to have been assigned to this division.

"You want to get some lunch?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Want to head up to the cafeteria?"

Largo paused, her brow wrinkling momentarily. "No, I would rather go somewhere outside the building today." She looked Scully in the eye. "Maybe somewhere with outdoor tables."

"Um, okay."

<What the hell is she up to?> Scully wondered as she locked the door behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

El Toro Loco
1:15 pm

The women ordered salads and sat in uncomfortable silence. Since Scully was playing it stoic, Largo decided to break the ice.

"Your work is fascinating. It's nothing like the rumors I'd heard at the Academy."

"Rumors?"

"That you guys chased ghosts and UFO's and weren't expected to have any rational explanations or justifications to back up your unfounded claims."

Scully's eyes bore into the younger woman's.

Largo's eyes widened, "Hey, those are their words, not mine. I've always been interested in what could not be unexplained. Maybe it's part of my ancestral mysticism."

"Huh?"

"You know the stereotypes. Indians who sit in a sweat lodge all day meditating, waiting for the Great Spirit to speak to them. Mother Earth, Father Sun, all that jazz."

"So, *are* you a mystic?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I believe God and the Wakantanka (Wah-KAWN-tawn-KA), the Great Spirit, are one in the same. They are both the life-force, the one who leads us in the circle that is our life. But I don't claim to understand everything that may occur within that circle. Events may take place which defy our scientific explanations. Perhaps this is because they are metaphysical, or perhaps our science has not yet evolved to the level at which we can explain these things."

Largo's slight accent, which lent an odd rhythm to her words, was slightly hypnotic. Her voice was pleasant, soothing. It brought to Scully's mind an image of Albert Hosteen, the Navajo code-talker who helped decipher the DAT tape in New Mexico.

She smiled wanly, "I too believe in science. Many of our cases, while outwardly appearing to be mysterious or paranormal, actually have simple scientific explanations."

"I saw evidence of that in your reports."

"Meanwhile, other cases remain, in my mind, unsolved."

"Unsolved meaning that you could find no scientific basis for what occurred?"

"Yes. Agent Mulder, on the other hand, did not believe that science could explain all of the events we witnessed or investigated."

"Mulder was a mystic?"

"Definitely."

"And he believed his sister was abducted by aliens, didn't he?"

She nodded slightly, not sure how to take that last comment. Was it a jab at Mulder, or a simple question to clarify the issue. Scully wasn't sure.

Lunch arrived, interrupting their conversation. After a few minutes, Scully said,

"I read your personnel file yesterday."

"And?"

"And I have a couple of questions."

"Shoot."

"What made you strike Agent Lynch?"

Largo thought about it for a minute. "I guess I just snapped, my anger over many things came out in aggression against Lynch. I should have expected something like that from him. Lynch was an asshole, and was always making inappropriate remarks. My partner and I were close. We had to be in order to do what we did. We worked undercover quite often, and it's hard to pretend you are someone else for so long. I hated it. After awhile I developed a fear of becoming the person I was always pretending to be." She paused, staring out at a small group of bushes to her right. "Ben was my best friend. Losing him was very hard." She swallowed, "My time spent in the hospital was difficult as well. I wouldn't eat or drink anything, afraid it may have been tampered with. I had an IV feeding me the entire time I was there, and I was even suspicious of that. More than once, I ripped it out.

"After they released me, my brother Michael came out to stay with me for a week. His presence helped, but I still remained extremely paranoid. When Michael had to leave, an old family friend came to stay with me for awhile. He and my father were good friends, they served together in Vietnam. In fact, after my father's death, I went to live with he and his wife. He was working in Minneapolis at that time." Largo smiled at the memory of this man. "He put up with me for a short time, then decided to whip my ass back into shape. He told me that if I was going to spend the rest of my life sitting in the house eating nothing but pre-packaged bagels and canned tuna, I might as well die now and save him a lot of grief. He made me realize I was being a coward, hiding from the world. I needed to regain control, to take my life back. The greatest retribution would be to return to my life, to prove that they could not defeat me."

"He sounds like quite a man."

"He is." Largo tore her eyes away from the bushes and looked at Scully. She smiled and matter-of-factly said, "You should know that by now. I mean, he is your boss."

Momentarily struck dumb, Scullly's jaw nearly dropped. Then, it all became clear.

<"You're going to have to trust me on this one, Agent Scully.">

"Walter Skinner was your father's best friend?"

"Of course."

"And now he's your boss?"

"Yep."

For the first time that day, Scully smiled at Largo. Largo returned it with a crooked grin of her own.

"So, any other startling revelations you want to share, Largo?"

"Can't think of any off-hand." She replied through a mouthful of salad.

They continued to eat for a few minutes, each lost in her own thoughts. Then, Scully asked,

"What was the deal with Russia?"

"Huh?"

"You got sent home from Russia in 1987."

Largo gave her the crooked grin again. "Ah, that. Well, I play the piano a little, have since I was a kid. I was 16 and had just finished high school when I was asked to join a group of young musicians on a concert tour in the Soviet Union. I was going through a particularly rebellious stage. Wasn't adolescence the best?" She asked sarcastically.

Scully thought back to her teenage years and her own personal rebellions.

"What happened?"

"Oh, several things. First off, Fredrickson, the uptight director, caught me bumming smokes off the bellhop. He wanted to send me home then, but a call to good old Uncle Walt convinced him to let me stay. A week later, we had a concert in Moscow. I was supposed to play a Beethoven piece. It was the same depressing Beethoven piece I had played for the past two weeks in Petersburg and Kiev. Fredrickson was all over me, too. Watching me like a hawk with his beady little eyes. I guess it was just like with Agent Lynch. I snapped."

"You didn't hit Fredrickson with a paperweight, did you?"

"Naw, I wasn't that violent, then." Largo grinned a little. "I sat down at the piano and played the first thing that popped into my head, which was 'Light My Fire' by The Doors. I got about halfway into 'Riders On The Storm' before Freddie literally pulled me away from the piano and sent me packing."

"So you were sent to Russia to play chamber music, but instead opted for sixties psychedelic rock?"

Largo scratched her chin, pretending to think deeply about it. "I would say that's a pretty accurate assessment of the situation."

"You're something else, Largo."

The young woman shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'no big deal'.

Scully met her eyes. "So how come you wanted to eat outside?"

"Too many ears around the building. My relationship with Skinner is not common knowledge, but I felt you should know. I'm just not sure that basement office isn't wired. Same with the cafeteria."

Scully slowly shook her head. "Don't you think that's a little paranoid?"

The woman just shrugged once more. "You know what they say: Just because your paranoid--"

"Doesn't mean they're not out to get you." Scully finished, rolling her eyes a little.

They finished their lunch and returned to the basement. That afternoon, Largo felt some of the tension which had shrouded the office that morning begin to abate.

They resumed their positions, with Scully finishing paperwork while Largo acquainted herself with the X-Files.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lone Gunman Headquarters
Saturday June 7, 1997

Mulder held a picture of a small red-haired woman in his hand. It had been taken in the office in which he was now standing, and the woman looked very professional in her business suit, which was covered by a smart black trenchcoat. She had a wry expression on her face, as though someone had just told her something that only a fool would believe.

He was beginning to remember. He knew who she was now, and he already missed her. If only he could have told her how much she meant to him. She was his best friend, his only friend. The Gunmen were friends, he supposed, but not like her. She was the only one he put his faith in, the only one he truly trusted. What was this doing to her? He rubbed his thumb across the surface of the photograph, wishing he could see her just one more time, knowing it was impossible. After all, he was dead, wasn't he? A tear slipped out of his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek.

<Scully.>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday, June 9, 1997
10:05 am

Scully and Largo spent the morning as they had spent Thursday and Friday. Scully finished a massive amount of paperwork while Largo attacked the files in the cabinet. Scully was again impressed; the woman had nearly read them all, asking intelligent questions every now and again. She was just beginning to understand how Largo managed to get her Ph.D. at such a young age. Her brain was like a sponge, and she absorbed it in a cool, methodical way. Never looking shocked, never clicking her tongue in disgust or disbelief. It was a little scary, because it reminded her too much of Mulder.

She looked over at her new partner, who was bouncing her right leg up and down with the ball of her foot. In addition, she tapped her long fingers silently on the desk. It was as if she was a bundle of energy. She couldn't sit still.

"Largo?"

"Yeah?" She looked up, light reflecting off her silver glasses.

"You a little wired today?"

She stopped bouncing her leg for a minute, then started again, as if she couldn't help it. She pointed to her coffee cup.

"Too much caffeine makes me nervous." She joked.

"What's wrong, don't you like my coffee?"

"I prefer Sanka, its naturally decaffeinated." Largo smiled. "Just kidding, I hate that decaf crap. I am a little wired though. Its time to start doing something other than sit down here reading files. Besides, I'm almost done with them."

"I noticed that. You must be related to Evelyn Wood."

"Ha, not remotely. I just skipped all the medical babble. Without that, reading the files goes pretty fast." Largo grinned a little mischievously, knowing that Scully was the one who wrote all the 'medical babble.'

Scully was about to retort with a quick barb of her own when the phone rang, startling them both.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, this is Kimberly. The Assistant Director would like to see you and Agent Largo in his office at 11:00."

"Sure thing, thank you Kimberly."

Scully hung up and looked over at Largo. The silence stretched. It was a battle of wills, and Largo lost.

"Who was it?!" she asked anxiously, eyes wide.

"Looks like you're going to get out of here sooner than you think, Largo. Skinner wants to see us at 11:00."

Largo checked her watch, "Great, its only 10:15!" she said in exasperation.

"Relax Largo, don't have an aneurysm."

"Easy for you to say. What am I going to do until 11:00?"

"You could answer a question for me."

"Okay."

"What the hell happened to your eye?"

"Would you believe its a really bad case of pink-eye?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." She chuckled to herself, "You've been pretty polite not to mention it until now. Just last night some old fart in the grocery store asked me if I went a few rounds with Holyfield."

"So what happened, did Lynch pay you back for the paperweight incident?"

"Nothing so dramatic. I originally injured it in the car accident. Hit it on the steering wheel. Repeatedly, I think. I was lucky I hit my eye socket and not my nose. Now that would have been a helluva bloody mess."

"Didn't you have an airbag?"

Largo snorted, "We were undercover, remember? I was driving a 1968 VW Bus."

"But that was in February, right? So shouldn't it have healed by now?"

"Yeah. But I had some retina damage. Couldn't see very well for awhile. I had surgery on it about four weeks ago, and there was some hemorrhaging into the white of my eye. They told me it will probably be like this for another month or so. Gradually, it will become white again."

"Take off your glasses and come here." Scully said.

Largo put her glasses down on the drafting table and wheeled her chair closer to where Scully sat. She turned on the hanging lamp and shined it in Largo's face.

"Professional curiosity." Scully explained.

She studied the tissue surrounding the cornea, not looking for anything in particular, but she had never seen hemorrhaging of this magnitude in the eye before. It was one of those things she rarely saw in her patients. The dead didn't often bleed into the eyes.

She looked closer at the cornea, noticing the light green of Largo's iris. Suddenly, the green turned into a bright blue, then washed quickly back into green. Scully gasped, and Largo pulled away.

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Your eye...it turned blue."

Largo gave Scully a strange look. Scully recognized the look all too well. It was the same look she gave Mulder whenever he said something particularly outrageous. Largo thought she was bonkers.

"Have your eyes ever done that before?"

"Since I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm going to have to say no. You've got a great bedside manner, Doc Scully. No wonder you went into pathology."

"At lease my patients don't complain as much as you do."

Largo snorted, "Yeah, and you can't accuse them of malingering either."

Even Scully had to laugh at that.

Largo looked at her watch. "Hey, look, it's 10:50 already! Can we go now?"

"Sure."

As they rode the elevator up to Skinner's office, Scully thought about the color change in the young woman's eyes. It was rare, but there were people who's eyes did spontaneously change color. It was even possible that Largo was unaware of the condition. She decided to let it go for now. The young woman's energy was infectious, and she found herself also looking forward to the new assignment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Skinner stood as they entered his office.

"Agent Scully, Agent Largo, please have a seat."

They sat in comfortable chairs facing the Assistant Director's desk.

"I have an assignment for the two of you." He pushed a manila folder across the desk. Scully reached for it and began to scan the pages inside. "Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Three murders occurring over the past month. All victims female, from 25-32 years of age. Each woman was attacked in her home, tied to her bed, beaten viciously, then had her throat cut."

"Any signs of sexual abuse?" Scully asked.

Skinner shook his head, then produced a tape recorder from behind his desk. "This was recorded on June 2nd." He pushed the 'play' button.

"9-1-1 Milwaukee. Please state the nature of the emergency."

"Someone's killing her!" A woman's voice gasped, her breath ragged.

"Where, ma'am?"

"I don't know! I don't know where she lives. Her name is Lucy Bryant. Hurry, you've got to stop it!"

"Your name please, ma'am."

CLICK.

Skinner frowned at the tape for a minute, then shut the machine off. "Two similar calls were made on the evenings of May 10th and May 22nd. Those were the nights when Ellen Macy and Louise Fellner were killed. Same MO. Milwaukee PD is assuming its the same perpetrator. When police arrived at the scene the women were dead. The ME estimated a time of death, and believes the calls took place at or just before the time these women were attacked. Little or no incriminating evidence was left at the crime scene. Police are baffled, and they've asked for our assistance."

Scully spoke, "What did the trace on the 9-1-1 calls turn up?"

"Pay phones."

Largo ventured a question, "Scattered, or in the same vicinity, sir?"

"Two within the same block. One about five miles away."

"Did they run a voice-pattern analysis?"

Skinner nodded, "Its the same caller. I've informed the Milwaukee PD that you will be arriving within the next few days. That is all, you are dismissed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Basement
12:30 pm

Scully hung up the phone. She turned to Largo, who was reading the file on their new case.

"We leave tomorrow at 11:00 am"

"I'll be there." She answered distractedly.

"I'm going to grab some lunch, but I have an appointment at 2:30 this afternoon, so I'll be leaving for the day. Lock up when you take off, okay?"

"Sure thing." Largo replied, her eyes never leaving the file on the table.

"And Largo?"

The young woman finally looked up, her eyes somewhat bleary.

"Knock off early today. Rest those eyes, they've been stuck in too many files lately, and we've got a full day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Okay Mom." Actually she was a little touched by Scully's concern.

"See you."

"Um-hum." Her face was once again in the file.

Scully left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

St. Johns Hospital
Washington DC
3:10 pm

Dana Scully sat idly flipping through magazines in the Radiation Treatment Center at St. Johns Hospital. They always ran late, and one of these days Dana would just start showing up an hour after her scheduled appointment time. But then, she knew Murphy's Law would kick in and that would be the one day they would be running on time.

After an eternity she heard the burly nurse call, "Dana Scully?" She rose to follow the woman down the hall.

After the usual preliminaries were taken care of (BP taken, blood drawn, etc.) she sat in a hospital gown and waited for Dr. Coen.

"Hello Dana, how are we doing today?"

She hated patronization, but tolerated it here. "Fine Dr. Coen."

"I have your bloodwork from last week here, and it looks pretty good. No further metastasis, whites and reds are fine. How is your energy level?"

"About the same. Not like it was before all this, but I'm managing."

"Staying away from undue stress?"

She winced involuntarily, but Coen was still looking at the charts and didn't notice.

"I'm trying to."

"Okay Dana, you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

He led her down another hallway and through a door to the familiar room where she received her treatments.

"We're going to change your levels a bit today, Dana. Your reaction may be somewhat stronger. I'd advise you to take it easy tonight."

She nodded, and hopped up on the table. She lay still as they put the clear mask over her face and prepared her for treatment. She closed her eyes, oblivious to the tears which slowly slipped out the corners.

When it was over, Coen led her back to his office. She expected him to leave while she dressed and prepared to make her own exit, but the man stayed in the room. Coen pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked a cabinet. He grabbed a metal box from inside and placed it on the counter.

"I'm going to five you an injection, Dana. Its just a small anti-nauseant. I'm a little worried about the change we made in your dosage." He filled the syringe and dabbed alcohol on her shoulder.

"Ready?"

She nodded, and he gave her the shot.

Dr. Coen replaced the metal box and relocked the cabinet.

"Good-bye Dana." He said, nodding with finality.

"Bye Dr. Coen." She got dressed and left the room.

Scully walked back out to the reception area. She was about to push through the frosted glass door when she suddenly felt light-headed. She brought a hand to her forehead and groped blindly with the other, searching for a chair. Finding one, she plopped down into it. A wave of nausea washed through her and she bit her lower lip, waiting for it to pass. She was used to the nauseous feeling, but had never experienced it so soon after a treatment. She usually didn't feel like vomiting until later that night, when she was safely ensconced in her apartment. Besides, Coen said he'd given her an anti-nauseant.

Her head swimming, she glanced at her wristwatch. It took a moment to focus on the dial. 4:40 pm. Surely her treatment hadn't taken an hour and a half, had it? She was usually there no longer than 40 minutes.

"Ms. Scully," the nurse said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Scully looked up at her. "I'm fine." she replied. Another lie. One more link in the 'I'm fine' lie-chain she had been constructing over the years. Usually it was Mulder she told this lie to, today it was an unknown nurse. "I just need to sit for a moment."

The nurse nodded and retreated back to her station.

Twenty minutes later Scully still sat there, head in her hands. She pulled out her cell phone and slowly, methodically dialed her mother's number.

"This is Margaret Scully. I'm not in right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you."

<Damn.>

BEEP.

"Mom...its me...are you there? Please be there, Mom." She paused, fighting the blackness that threatened to engulf her. She was almost certain she was going to pass out. Still no answer on the phone. Dana hit the disconnect button and sat, struggling to remain conscious as she tried to think of what to do.

It hit her. But no, she really, really didn't want to do that. Another wave of nausea tore through her, almost sending her over the edge. That did it, she had no choice. She brought the phone back up to her face and hit 'Memory 2' with a shaking finger. It was a number she had just entered into the phone this morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan Largo's Apartment
5:15 pm

After work, Largo changed into jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Now, she was sitting in the middle of a messy living room surrounded by stereo components. She stared blankly at the manual in her lap. She rubbed her tired eyes.

<Great. I could lecture for three hours on the mitigating factors leading to World War One, the Rosenburg Trial, or the fine art of criminal interrogation, but I can't figure out a fucking stereo system to save my life.>

She's been in DC less than a week, and most of her stuff had just arrived Saturday afternoon. Unopened boxes lined every wall. She'd unpacked the essentials and didn't really mind the clutter, but the stereo was vital. She wouldn't last long without music, and her old clock-radio just wasn't cutting it.

A high trilling noise startled her. What the hell was that? She stood and followed the noise to her jacket pocket. Ah-ha. It was her cell phone, ringing for the first time. She and Ben had almost never carried them, being as they were supposed to be working undercover, the phones were a little out of place. Instead, she had carried a simple black pager.

"Um, Largo." she answered hesitantly, still not certain someone hadn't dialed a wrong number.

"Largo...its Scully."

"Scully? Are you okay? You don't sound too good."

"I...um...I need to ask you for a favor." The voice was just above a whisper.

"No problem Scully. What do you need?"

"I need you to come to St. Johns Hospital, the Radiation Treatment Center."

"You hang on, Scully, I'll be right there."

Largo hung up. She grabbed her keys, badge, and gun, and ran out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

St. Johns Hospital
5:35 pm

Largo jogged through the hallways, searching frantically for any sign of the Radiation Treatment Center. She finally found it and pulled on the frosted glass door, only to find it locked. She knocked loudly on the door. A passing nurse called out to her.

"I'm sorry miss, but they close at 5:30."

"I'm looking for a woman, Short, white, with red hair? Probably wearing a black business suit?"

"Sorry." the nurse said, and continued down the hall.

Largo rubbed the back of her neck with one hand while scanning the hallways for Scully. She spotted a women's restroom and ventured a quick peek inside.

"Scully?"

A soft voice from deep inside replied, "I'm here."

Largo sighed with relief and stepped into the bathroom. She saw Scully leaning heavily against the counter. She looked awful. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. Her skin was deathly pale, and dark circles hung like crescent moons under her washed-out blue eyes.

Largo put on hand on the small woman's back, putting the other on her elbow to steady her.

Scully leaned against her for a moment, then suddenly her body tensed, and she ran quickly through a stall door. Largo heard retching sounds. She followed the small woman into the stall. She looked awful, barely able to hold herself above the toilet. Largo bent down and held her head as Scully emptied the contents of her stomach. Breathing heavily, she groaned tiredly.

"Its okay Scully, its okay. I've got you." She rubbed the smaller woman's back soothingly. It was then that she realized just how thin Scully was. Largo felt her sharp shoulder blades and the ridges of bony vertebrae under her fingertips.

A few minutes later Largo lifted Scully to her feet and guided them back to the sink. She wet a paper towel and washed Scully's face, which was damp with perspiration.

"Come on, Scully, let's go."

Swaying slightly, Scully allowed Largo to lead her out the door, into the elevator, and out of St. Johns Hospital. Scully leaned on the car as Largo unlocked the doors, then she gently guided her into the passenger seat.

By the time she got behind the wheel, her partner's eyes were closed. Largo adjusted the other seat so it would recline slightly, fastened Scully's seatbelt as well as her own, and pulled the car out of the parking garage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at her building, Largo half-carried Scully up the stairs and into her apartment. She was badly disoriented, and had trouble just keeping her eyes open, let alone focused on anything.

<What could have done this to her?> Megan wondered. <Is cancer therapy really like this? This can't happen to her every time, or she'd have had someone there with her.>

Megan Largo's mother died of breast cancer when she and her brother were eight, but she was too young to remember if her mother had received radiation treatment. One thing she know for sure though: Scully was in bad shape.

She led the small woman into the back bedroom, careful not to let her trip on any of the unpacked boxes strewn about. She sat Scully on the bed, one hand on her shoulder to steady the swaying woman. With her other hand, she opened a drawer and pulled out a large t-shirt and some old shorts.

"Scully, you hear me?"

Scully made a small noise at the back of her throat. "Yeah."

"Here's some clothes for you to change to. You're going to take a nap now, okay?"

She held out the clothes. As Scully made no motion to grab for them, she bent down and removed Scully's shoes and jacket, hoping it would give her the hint. It did, and Dana reached out for the small bundle.

Largo went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She took her time, giving Scully some privacy. When she returned, Scully had donned the outfit and was already curled up under the sheets. Megan set the glass of water on the bedside table, picked up Scully's clothes, and tiptoed out, quietly shutting the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greyhound Bus #1017
5:58 pm

He said his good-byes to The Gunmen at the office and took a cab to the bus station. He sat looking out the window as the country rolled by. Mulder thought about his life, the life he'd recently reacquired when the powerful drug finally left his system. He thought about his childhood. He had been a happy child, generally content with his life...until that evening so long ago. The nightmare of that evening continued to haunt him to this day. It was always with him, teasing him in the back of his mind like a stray hair down your collar. And just when he thought the mightmare could grow no worse, his partner, his best friend was abducted. Three months of hell. Not knowing whether she was dead or alive. It was Samantha all over again.

He buried his face in his hands.

Mulder shook his head, as if he could rid himself of the memories. It was no use, they continued to flow across his tired brain. His father, bleeding to death in his arms. Krychek, that bastard. Scully shooting him--not to wound him, but to save him from himself. New Mexico. The boxcar. Albert Hosteen. This last thought brought a fleeting smile to his face. It didn't last long.

Melissa Scully. Oh, that one hurt. Not because it hurt him, but because it hurt her. Dana Scully, the most important person in his life was befallen by tragedy because of him and his damned X-Files. The woman he'd do anything for, the only one he trusted. The person he had died for.

But had he died for her? Was this the only solution to his mass of problems? Once again, self-doubt crept in, seeking a hold on his fragile psyche. Scully believed Michael Kritchgau, believed the lies he told her. The night he died he decided to kill two birds with one stone. By faking his own death he could possibly save Dana Scully's life, and he could continue his search for the truth. He knew that without Scully's suppoort in his quest for evidence of extraterrestrial life, he would lose the X-Files. Scully was his only ally, and without her behind him, the Bureau would never continue approval of UFO-related investigations.

Yes, he had died for Scully, but he also died for *her*. For Samantha. For his search to find her, and find out who, or what, had stolen her away from him that summer evening so long ago.

He stared out the window, watching the rolling hills and open plains float by. A tear slipped down his face and rolled off his chin, unnoticed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan Largo's Apartment
6:43 pm

Largo sat on the bench before a baby grand piano and quietly plunked out a melody with one hand. She often did this when she needed to think. Her hands automatically moving over the familiar keys while her mind turned over a problem. The problem tonight was clear: what should she do about Dana Scully?

She was obviously ill, whether it be from her radiation treatment or something else. Should she take Scully back to the hospital? No. If Scully wanted to be there she never would have called. Skinner? No...for obvious reasons. Megan didn't want to run to him with every problem, and she was certain Scully didn't want her boss to know how sick she really was. There were 14 Scullys in the phone book, and Megan was not about to dial up a bunch of strangers on the off-chance one of them was related to Dana. So she decided to wait it out. Let her sleep. Perhaps this wasn't so abnormal for a person in her condition...

The problem was solved by the high trilling of what Largo now recognized as a cell phone. It came from Scully's jacket pocket this time.

"Dana Scully's phone."

There was a pause. Then, "This is Margaret Scully, Dana's mother. Who is this?"

"This is Megan Largo, I'm an associate of...Dana's."

"Dana left a strange message on my machine today. I'm just wondering if she's okay. Where is she?"

"Everything is fine, Mrs. Scully. Dana wasn't feeling well after her doctor's appointment. I picked her up and brought her here. She fell asleep in the car. I don't know where she lives, so I brought her to my apartment."

"She was too tired to tell you her own address?"

"Uh...yes. Actually, Mrs. Scully, I think it would be best if you came her to see her. You know more about her condition than I."

"Yes, I'm on my way."

Largo gave her directions, and Margaret Scully was off like a shot.

~~~~~~~~~~~

8:00 pm

Largo let Margaret Scully into the apartment and quickly led her down the hall to her bedroom.

Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair back from her daughter's pale face. Largo stood in the doorway, then exited and shut the door, feeling like an intruder during this private moment. Megan had no family, save her grandfather and twin brother Michael. Her grandfather was an Elder, a respected man within the Mdewakanton tribe of the Dakota people. She and her grandfather had never been very close. Joseph Little Bear was something of a traditionalist. He felt it was the responsibility of all Indian people to keep their culture alive. Megan chose to walk a different path, however. Though she was proud of her Native American heritage, she had to stay true to herself, and she chose mainstream American culture over a life on the reservation.

Her brother Michael leaned more toward the philosophy of their grandfather. Michael and Megan had always been close, as twins usually are, but they had very different personalities. Michael was quiet and basically a contented person, while Megan was outspoken, opinionated, and always questioning the world around her. The old family joke from when they were children was that Michael had inherited all the Indian genes while Megan was 100% Wasicun (wash-EE-choon), or white.

Now, Megan only remembered her mother in a vague way, and still had strong feelings about the death of her father. Consequently, family scenes often made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She was unsure of how family members were supposed to act with each other.

Maggie emerged from the room, her eyes red from tears. Largo rocked back and forth on her heels, not sure of what to say.

"Would you like some tea, Mrs. Scully?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

There was silence as Largo filled the kettle. She could feel the woman's eyes on her...it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"You said your name was Megan, is that correct?"

"Yes...Megan Largo."

"And you work at the Hoover Building too?"

Ah-ha. Now it dawned on her. Mrs. Scully thought she was some sort of counterpart to Tommy, the mail-room intern. The woman had no idea why her daughter had called Megan. She set the kettle on the burner and turned on the gas range.

"Yes, Mrs. Scully. I work with...Dana. In fact, I've been assigned to assist her as a junior partner in the X-Files Division."

Margaret's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise. There was another long silence.

"How old are you, Megan?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"And how long have you been an FBI agent?"

"A little over three years now."

"Where did you work before coming to Washington?"

"Mostly in Portland, Oregon."

"H-m-m."

"Any more questions, Mrs. Scully?"

"Yes."

"Well, shoot."

She reached out and tenderly placed her palm alongside Megan Largo's face.

"What happened to your eye?"

**************

10:25 pm

She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake, but a hand gently shook her shoulder. Scully opened her eyes and slowly focused on the outline of her mother's form in the darkness.

"Dana? Are you awake honey?"

Groggy, unsure of her surroundings, she replied, "Mom?"

"Yes, its me."

"Mom, where am I?"

"You're at Megan's house."

"Megan? Megan who?"

"Your partner Dana, remember? Megan Largo?"

"But Mulder's my partner, Mom."

"I know honey, I know." She reached out to brush Dana's hair from her face. She continued to stroke her daughter's hair, a gesture of reassurance.

"I'm so tired, Mom."

"Then sleep, honey."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course I will."

Dana closed her eyes and let the rhythm of her mother's touch across her forehead lull her back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday
9:15 am

Largo called to cancel their tickets for today's flight to Milwaukee and made tentative reservations on a 12:00 pm flight leaving on Wednesday. Then she called Skinner's office, leaving a message to inform him of their delay. She simply stated that Agent Scully hadn't been feeling well, thus delaying their arrival in Milwaukee by a day.

Margaret Scully was in the kitchen making French toast. Megan enjoyed the older woman's company, and was glad she was there. Last night they had talked of many things, usually with Mrs. Scully doing the questioning and Largo being put on the spot. If Megan had known more about mothers, she would have realized this was the oldest trick in the book: ask nosy questions until the victim finally tells you to butt out, which she will never do because it is impolite. And Megan Largo was nothing if not polite, especially to her new partner's mother.

"So," Mrs. Scully had asked that night, sipping orange tea, "where do you get your accent from?"

"Accent? You mean a Midwestern accent?"

"No, I mean you talk funny. You stress different words in the sentences. You speak differently than most people I know."

"Oh, I guess so. It must be the Dakota influence, I guess."

"You're from the Dakotas?"

Largo smiled softly. "In a way. I'm not from the Dakota states. I'm originally from Minnesota, but I am Dakota. My mother was Native American. They are part of what most...uh, whites call Sioux. We don't use that term though, its origins are derogatory. I grew up bilingual, but spoke a lot of Dakota when I was young. It probably warped my English a little."

"I think it sounds lovely. But you're a long way from home, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Well, a long way from Minnesota. My mother was Indian, yes, but my father was white, and Irish to boot."

Maggie smiled, then stopped short. "You said you mother *was* Indian, what happened to her?"

"She passed away when we were eight." Inwardly, Largo prayed Mrs. Scully wouldn't ask how her mother died.

"We?"

"I guess that came out sounding strange. I have a twin brother, and *we* were eight when she died."

"I'm sorry."

Largo shrugged, "It was a long time ago."

"And where does you father live now?"

Silence.

"My father...he is also dead."

"Oh."

"Yes, he was shot by an intruder in our home in St. Paul. That, too, was a long time ago." She said this with finality, giving Maggie the hint that this topic was off the discussion table.

Mrs. Scully let her eyes wander around the cluttered living room.

Largo noticed and said, "I'm sorry it is so messy, I just received my things this weekend and haven't had a chance to unpack much yet."

Maggie fixed her eyes on the immaculate black piano near the windows. "I see you've set up the important things." She gestured to the piano. "Do you play?"

Megan grinned broadly, glad for the change of subject. "Yes, I do."

"Play something for me."

"Anything in particular?"

"Oh, you take requests, do you?"

"Of course. I used to play at a piano bar when I was in college. It was an interesting take on the work-study program, but the money got me through school. What do you want to hear?"

"Hmmm, do you know any Sinatra? Or is he too old for someone your age."

Megan touched her chest with a palm, as though wounded by the mere thought. "I live for Sinatra." She stated proudly.

Softly, careful not to wake the sleeping Scully, Largo began to play "Strangers In The Night."

To Maggie's surprise, She softly sang along with the song. She had a smooth, silky alto, a beautiful voice. When she sang, she lost the odd rhythm of speech which made her voice so unmistakable.

When the song ended, Megan launched into, "I've Got You Under My Skin." Maggie sat back on the couch and let the music flow over her. After a few more unaccompanied songs she dozed off, and Largo covered her with a blanket from the back of the couch.

***********

Now, they sat at the small kitchen table eating French toast and drinking strong coffee. Dana was still asleep in the bedroom. Megan questioned Mrs. Scully about her daughter, knowing this was the only way she would ever find out much about her partner's cancer. She sure as hill wasn't going to ask Scully about it, figuring she'd just get the ice-cold stare that the small woman could give. For such a diminutive woman, Scully was infinitely strong, and strong-willed as well. Megan had instantly seen the power behind Scully's frame, both physical, mental, and emotional. She was a formidable woman, and Largo already respected her very much.

Maggie willingly filled her in on Dana's condition, realizing the young woman needed to know in the event another such emergency. Initially, she had been shocked when the young woman claimed she was Dana's new partner. Dana hadn't mentioned it, and it seemed so sudden. It was too soon after losing Fox, which was probably the very reason Dana hadn't told her. However, after finding out a little about the girl, Margaret felt something toward her. Though she was a little uneasy, she had answered her prying questions, and was hard not to like.

<Besides,> Maggie thought, <anyone who could play like that...> She remembered Megan's long thin fingers gliding gracefully across the piano keys the night before. <And that voice...>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan Largo's Apartment
3:15 pm

Scully awoke to the soft sounds of music. It was faint, and she lay quietly, listening to the light melody. It was a familiar song, one she knew, but couldn't place yet. She concentrated on the music, and suddenly heard a woman's voice accompanying the piano. It was lovely, and Scully momentarily thought she was hearing a CD. Then she realized that wasn't right. The song was "Walking In Memphis", by Marc Cohn, and he certainly didn't sound anything like this.

She opened her eyes and frowned, this was not her bedroom. She was in a strange bed wearing a huge t-shirt and baggy shorts. There was a small, lithe gray cat striped with black laying over her chest. The cat didn't stir even when she did. She reached down to pet the trusting cat for a moment, and it leaned into her hand affectionately.

She stood and tentatively pulled the door open further. The cat stood and stretched, then quickly trotted out the door to lead her out of the room. She followed the cat down the hallway and toward the sound of the music. Scully peered around a corner, and what she saw in the front room surprised her. Megan Largo sat behind a large black piano, eyes closed, softly singing along with the music. On the couch, facing the piano, sat her mother. She was smiling at the young woman as she was serenaded.

Unobserved, Scully watched the pair as the tune changed. Largo began to play another tune, one she didn't recognize. It was a haunting, bluesy song, and Largo sang with emotion.

The music stopped suddenly as Largo looked up at her.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Largo smiled, showing a mouthful of white teeth. It was the first full smile Scully had seen from the young woman, and it lit up her face. She peered over the piano and, to the cat, said, "What happened Lenny, did you give Sleeping Beauty a kiss to revive her?"

The cat just looked up at her with a bored expression that was the sole possession of the feline species.

"Dana." Maggie stood and hugged her daughter fiercely.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

"I got worried when I heard your message. I called your cellular and met your new partner."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you." She looked apologetically at her mother, then at Largo, who had risen and come closer to where they stood.

"How are you feeling, Scully?"

"Much better. In fact, I feel great. Very rested."

"You should be, you nearly slept the clock around."

"What!?"

Largo looked at her watch, "Yeah Scully, its 3:30 in the afternoon. Tuesday afternoon."

"But...we have to go to Milwaukee today. How could you let me just sleep like that, Largo? Now we missed our flight."

"Relax Scully. There will always be another passage to the thriving metropolis of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I canceled our tickets and booked us on the noon flight leaving tomorrow. That's if you're up to it."

"Skinner?"

"Called him too, said you weren't feeling well." She spread her hands out in front of her, "No problem." She paused for a moment. "Are you okay, Scully?"

She was a little touched by the concern in Largo's warm voice.

"Yes, I *really* do feel better. But...where are my clothes?" She tugged a little at the huge waist of the shorts. "I'm falling out of these."

Largo shot a quick glance over to Mrs. Scully, who was still appraising her daughter.

<I guess she doesn't remember yesterday too well yet.>

"Your clothes are a little worse for wear, but I can find something that will fit you better, come on." Largo walked back to the bedroom, not wanting to state in front of Mrs. Scully that there was a fair amount of vomit residue on her daughter's well-tailored black suit.

"H-m-m. What do I have to fit a five-foot tall woman?" She put a hand to her chin, as if in the midst of deep thought processes.

"Save it, Largo." Scully said wryly.

They shared a short laugh, and Megan was relieved to see Scully feeling better.

"I took your clothes to the dry cleaners. Here, you can probably fit into this."

She handed Scully a smaller t-shirt, a gray sweatshirt with 'Minnesota Athletics' written across the chest, and some black sweatpants.

"These are the smallest ones I have, maybe you can roll them up or something."

"It'll be fine, Largo. And thank you. I don't know why that happened, why my reaction was so strong, but I appreciate your help...and your discretion."

Largo nodded, "It's nothing."

Scully looked up to meet her eyes. "No, its not nothing, its something, something very important. You helped me out when I really needed it. Thank you."

"Enough already. I have been sufficiently thanked. You're welcome. You want to take a shower?"

"Definitely."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After her shower, Scully ate some soup and a tuna sandwich.

"Hey Largo," she called, "is this canned tuna?"

Largo smiled from behind her own sandwich. "Yeah, but be careful of the apple juice, it was sitting unattended in my car while I went to the bank, but I'm forcing myself to drink it as therapy."

Scully took a long swallow of juice. She smacked her lips thoughtfully. "Seems okay to me."

"Well, I'm glad one of us can joke about it."

Scully gave her a toothless but genuine smile as her mother looked on, puzzled by the exchange.

************

An hour later, Scully and her mother prepared to leave. In the doorway Largo asked, "Are you sure you'll be okay to travel tomorrow? We could probably wait another day."

"Largo, I'm fine. Besides, if we wait another day there's a good chance you will simply explode, and I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Really, I'm fine. I feel better today than I have in weeks."

"Meet you at Dulles at 11:00, then?"

"Yep."

"Bye Scully. Goodbye Mrs. Scully, it was nice to meet you."

To Largo's complete surprise, Maggie Scully walked up and embraced her, hugging the tall woman firmly. Dana saw the shocked expression on Largo's face and stifled a small giggle.

When she finally pulled away, Maggie said, "Thank you for everything Megan. I'll be seeing you soon." She turned to leave.

Scully stood on her tiptoes to get closer to Largo's ear. "That means she likes you." she said softly.

"Oh." Largo still looked shocked, then her face lit up with a wide smile, her eyes crinkling happily.

"Bye Largo, and thanks again."

Largo waved the compliment away and closed the door behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Milwaukee Police HQ
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Wednesday June 11, 1997
3:35 CDT

Agents Largo and Scully met with Detective Adam Wright. He was more than a little surprised to discover the FBI had sent two female agents out on a murder investigation.

"Detective Wright," Scully asked, "what was the time frame on the 9-1-1 calls?"

"One at 6:45 pm, the others around 10:00 pm."

"And were police dispatched immediately?"

"As soon as a residence ID could be made on the victim. Milwaukee is a large city, Agent Scully, and there are many Bryants, Macys, and Fellners. Police were dispatched within an hour."

"I see." Scully said as she flipped through the autopsy photographs. The victims were all badly beaten, but, as Skinner had said back in Washington, there were no signs of sexual abuse. That was mildly unusual, not completely rare, though. The victims were found fully clothed, and the ME's report stated the belief that the victims were most probably beaten with the fists. The wounds were not consistent with any type of heavy blunt object. Each victim had her throat cut. Fingerprints found at the scene were consistent with those of the victim or others known to the victim. Relatives, friends, and significant others were questioned, but none were suspected.

"Have you found anything linking the women?" Largo asked.

"Not yet, so if there is a tie-in, it isn't something obvious."

The agents exchanged a glance. Scully saw the questioning look in Largo's eye and nodded slightly at her. Largo took this as the permission she had been seeking.

"Can we take a look at the area where the phone calls were made?" she asked.

"Certainly. I'll copy the addresses for you and have a man lead you there."

"Thank you, Detective Wright."

The middle-aged detective scratched the back of his head as they left his office. Women Fibbies? A midget and a kid? <Why did they even bother?> he wondered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Corner of 5th and Vine
Milwaukee, WI
4:15 pm

"650-2216, this is it." Scully stated, scanning the area, not sure what she was looking for.

Largo slowly turned in a circle. Through dark sunglasses, she saw three apartment buildings, a corner grocery, a small gas station, the ever-present corner bar.

"And the other booth?" she asked.

"It should be about a block north." Scully answered. They walked the block and found the other pay phone.

They had already checked out the third number. Its phone was a few miles away.

"I'm thinking she lives around here. Maybe she was away from her home when she made the third call."

Scully nodded. "You want to do a door-to-door?"

"What do you think?"

"Milwaukee PD probably already has. Most likely, they had the same idea."

"Right." Largo began walking south, back toward the first phone. After going about 50 yards, she stopped, looking up at the five story apartment building in front of her. 'Pinewood Apts' the banner above the lobby read. In a second story window there was a large neon sign reading "Miller High Life." Above it and to the left was another neon, this one picturing a hand. Underneath the glowing yellow hand were the words "Palm Readings, Tarot Cards" in bright blue.

Scully came up behind her. "I don't know what we're looking for here, Largo. Let's get something to eat and we can talk strategy."

"First, can we go up to that apartment?" She jerked her head toward the third-story window.

"You mean that one?" Scully pointed a finger at the sign.

"Yeah."

Scully examined the sign carefully, then eyed the young woman. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. <She's young, humor her.>

"Okay." she reluctantly agreed.

They climbed the stairs and entered the building. Riding up in the elevator, Scully became caught up in the fact that what they were doing was so...Mulderesque. They reached the door, upon which was a small white card that mirrored the neon sign in the window. Written under the logo was: Readings by Kelly Green. Scully raised a skeptic eyebrow as Largo knocked firmly.

A thin woman with short, dark hair answered. She was around 30 years-old, somewhere between their heights, and wore a baggy green sweater with a long cotton skirt.

They flipped out their badges and Scully said, "Ms. Green? I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, and this is Agent Megan Largo, we're with the FBI."

The woman inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"We'd just like to ask you a few questions if we could."

"Uh...sure." She peered nervously around the hallway. "Come in."

She turned, and they followed her down the short hallway. Scully leaned toward Largo and whispered, "This is your show kid, you take it from here."

Largo nodded somberly. They sat on the couch facing Ms. Green.

"Ms. Green," Largo said, smiling slightly to put the woman at ease. "you do palm and Tarot card readings, yes?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Do you find a lot of business in this neighborhood?"

The woman lifted her shoulders non-commitally. "I get by. Milwaukee is a very spiritual town."

Largo's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Yeah, I bet there's more than just one kind of 'spirit' that flies around here."

Much to Scully's surprise, Kelly Green laughed out loud. "Oh yes, it's the beer that makes Milwaukee famous."

Scully got it then. She wanted to smack herself on the forehead. She hadn't given Largo enough credit. The kid was pretty smooth, breaking the ice with Green like that. Soon the two were chatting away, sharing some kind of Midwestern inside joke that flew right past Scully. After a few minutes of what appeared to be mindless chit-chat, Largo returned to the subject of fortune-telling.

"So, Kelly. May I call you Kelly?"

The woman nodded.

"So, Kelly, just how much can you tell about a person by reading their palm?"

"Since ancient times many have believed that a person's character and their destiny can be determined by examining the palms of their hands. The shape of the hand as well as the lines upon it are taken into consideration. It is also believed that the lines on a person's palm change over time, corresponding with important life decisions and events which may alter their future."

"So no one's destiny is set?"

"Not ultimately set, but the lines on the palm can tell much about a person's immediate future. Here," she gestured with her fingers, "let me take a look at your hands, Agent Largo."

Largo placed her long, thin hands into the woman's, palms up. She studied them for a minute, turning them over, tracing the lines with her fingers.

"Overall, you are intuitive, gentle, artistic. A strange combination for a federal agent." She smiled. "Your fingers are rather conical, suggesting an intellectual frame of mind, yet you are not afraid to trust your instincts. Your life line is deep, which suggests vitality of the spirit, but I see you've had pain in your recent past. The line of fate, here," she traced a vertical line down Largo's left palm, "tells me that you have a good amount of luck on your side."

She gently closed Largo's palms and pushed them back toward her. "That's all you get for free."

Largo chuckled softly. "That's pretty good."

The woman turned her gaze. "Agent Scully?"

Scully's eyes widened; she had been content as a casual observer and had no desire to become an active participant in this little charade. One look at Largo, however, made her remember her words in the hallway. It was Largo's show, so she'd better play along.

Reluctantly, Scully held out her hands. Kelly took them and repeated the process of studying them. Scully glanced at Largo out of the corner of her eye, but the dark young woman was staring intently at Kelly Green's face, her lips slightly pursed.

Finished with her examination, Green seemed to laugh to herself. "You are certainly different from your partner, Agent Scully."

"Oh really?"

"I'll tell you what I see. Your fingers are very smooth, suggesting a keen, alert mind. Yet your fingertips are flat. This indicated a rational, realistic outlook on the world. You are a skeptic, right?"

Scully's eyebrow shot up. Largo nearly laughed out loud.

"For your size, your thumbs are long, suggesting you are a high-achiever and a very confident person. Now, let me look at the lines again." She stared down at Scully's left hand.

"Agent Scully, are you ill?"

Scully jerked her hands away as if Green's touch scalded her. She was speechless, stunned.

"Scully," Largo croaked, laying a hand on her arm. Scully shrugged it off and began to rise.

"Agent Scully, wait. I didn't mean to alarm you. But your lifeline is somewhat shallow. This does not necessarily mean an early death, I believe it is more indicative of an illness. But it is puzzling, because the line is long. It is my opinion that this indicates your illness is temporary. Let me take a closer look."

Reluctantly, Scully sat down and obediently held out her hands.

"You are a strong woman, Agent Scully. Logical and practical. Your line of fate is similar to Agent Largo's, which means you are also very lucky, though you may not believe so at the moment. Your strength and your luck are instrumental in recovery from your illness."

She gave Scully her hands back. Scully sat there, staring at them. Largo, noticing that her partner had just gone mute, decided now was the time to resume questioning.

"Thank you for the demonstration Ms. Green. It was very...informative. I do have a few questions of a different nature, however. We're investigating a series of murders which have taken place in the Milwaukee area over the past few weeks. We believe the victims all have a tie to this neighborhood. I was wondering if you have a client by the name of Lucy Bryant?"

Green was quiet for a moment, her face blank. Then she wrinkled her face in concentration. "I'd have to check my records."

"Could you please? Could you also check them for Ellen Macy and Louise Fellner?"

"The names aren't familiar, but I'll check."

She left the room. Largo turned. "Scully, are you okay?"

"I'm fine Largo." She replied tersely.

End of conversation.

When Green returned she said, "No, I've never done readings for those women."

"Are most of your clients female, Kelly?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, they are. Why?"

"Just curious."

Largo stood, and Scully followed. They shook hands with Kelly Green.

"Thank you for your time, Kelly. If you run across any of those names in old files or anything, would you please call us. Here's my card." She handed Green a freshly-minted business card. "You can reach us at the cellular number."

They left the apartment. As they boarded the elevator, a male voice yelled, "Wait!"

Largo put a hand out to stop the closing doors. A tall blond man in his late twenties ran to the elevator.

"Thanks," he panted.

"No problem." Largo replied, smiling at the man.

"You two live here? New to the building?"

"No, just visiting a friend."

"Kelly?"

"Um, yes."

"How do you know Kelly?"

Scully began to wonder if they had just boarded the slowest elevator on the face of the earth. And to top the ride off, Largo was allowing a stranger to flirt with her during this slow descent into hell.

"We, um, we go way back. Palm reader's convention, you know."

Scully rolled her eyes. Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of their long, long sixty foot journey. She quickly exited, Largo at her heels.

"Well, if you're ever here in Milwaukee again and want to see the town, let me know. I'm in 318. Name's John Thorton."

"Will do, John." Largo said with a cheesy grin. As he left the lobby, she leaned toward Scully. "God," she groaned.

"Well, if you didn't like it, you shouldn't have encouraged him!"

Largo opened her mouth, feigning shock. "Moi?"

"Yes you." Scully teased, feeling some of the tension from the 'palm reading' leave her.

"Let's grab some grub, Scully. I'm starving."

"Me too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Country Kitchen
Milwaukee, WI
6:05 pm

"When I was in high school, we used to hang out in one of these. We called it *The Bitchin Kitchen*."

"How interesting, and where did you grow up, Dogpatch?"

"No," Largo replied, taking a large swig of Sprite, "Mankato."

"O-o-h, a big city girl."

Largo's eyes glazed over in a parody of nostalgia. "You just don't know what you missed out on. Six months of winter, bugs galore in the summer. Mosquitoes so big you need a transfusion after a trip to the lake. A-a-h-h, fond childhood memories."

"So tell me, Agent Largo," Scully said, bringing the girl back to the present while dipping a French fry in ketchup, "what did we learn during our interview of Kelly Green which justified the use of taxpayer money on our salaries this afternoon?"

"Wow, such biting sarcasm. You know, Scully, I could swear you just took a shot at me."

"I've been known to shoot my partners before."

"So I've heard."

Scully ate another fry. What was with her tonight? Usually, she never touched French fries. They were greasy and oozed cholesterol. But the fries smelled so good when they walked into the diner, and besides, she was absolutely starving. She hadn't had an appetite like this in weeks, maybe months.

"Well, Agent Scully, I believe I learned a few things."

"Such as?"

"For one, that woman's name is not *Kelly Green*."

Scully frowned down into her plate, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on Scully! Kelly Green? Its not a name, its a color; its one of those joke names, like Seymour Butz, Ima Hogg, or Ben Dover."

"How about Yura Dork?"

"I've never heard of that one."

"It's not a name, its a description of you."

"Ha-ha. Stop, you're killing me." Then, seriously, she added "But I can tell you that woman's name is not Kelly Green."

"Is that a fact?"

"You can look it up. In fact, I will. I'll run her through the computer tomorrow. Bet you twenty bucks she is not who she says she is."

"Okay, so what else did you *learn*?"

"She knew those women."

Scully looked up and met her gaze. "How do you know that?"

"I saw it in her eyes."

"What are you talking about?"

"Her manner, the way her face went blank when I said the name. But mostly she told me with her eyes."

"I didn't see anything in her eyes."

"You weren't looking at them."

Scully took a long look at the woman sitting across from her. The mercurial young woman was a riddle in herself. "Let me see if I have this straight." she said, going into lecture mode. "We arrived in Milwaukee at approximately 2:00 this afternoon. We talked to Detective Wright, and by about 4:00 we decided to take a look at the pay phones. You saw a sign in a window and decided to speak with its owner. You then made small talk for a half hour and by 6:00 pm decided that the one person you interviewed, in a block containing more than two hundred occupants, was the link between three murder victims. Is that an accurate recounting of today's events?"

Largo made a big show of considering it, looking hard at the wood duck painting framed above Scully's head as her forehead wrinkled.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Is this your standard procedure for a murder investigation? Interview one person at random, jump to a quick conclusion, then search for evidence to support it? Is that how it works?"

Silence.

"How many murder investigations have you worked, Agent Largo?"

"In this manner? None."

"What do you mean, *in this manner?*"

"Okay, I rarely got all dressed up to talk to police detectives and interview nice people in their homes! I'd say about 80% of my cases involved undercover work. Do you know what its like being UC, Scully? Around a bunch of pot-smoking, mainlining deadbeats selling poison to school children? Killing them? Killing college professors because they gave them an 'F' on the midterm? No, I didn't get to flash a badge in someone's face and say 'tell me the truth or I'll shove my Sig up your nose!' I had to glean information out of them in any underhanded way I could. I had to do it to solve cases. I had to do it to stay alive! I'll admit, I haven't interviewed a ton of respectable people. In fact, it was a nice change to get to do it today. But I can tell you one thing, Scully. I know when someone's trying to hide something. Unfortunately, the one time it was most important that I see, I wasn't paying attention, and it cost my part..."

She stopped, out of breath and suddenly aware of what she was about to say. She closed her eyes and strove to regain control. In a much lower voice, she continued,

"I'm sorry. I got carried away. Please forgive me. But listen, Scully, I may not be the smartest or the most experienced agent in the Bureau, not by a long shot, but there is one thing I am very good at, and that is questioning witnesses and interrogating suspects. I can't tell you why, but when they talk to me I pick things up from them. And I can tell you that Kelly Green knew those women."

Scully was silent for a second, digesting Largo's words. Then, in a soft voice, she said, "Because you saw it in her eyes."

"Windows to the soul, Doc."

"I suppose she made the 9-1-1 calls too?"

Largo took a bite of her club sandwich. "That has yet to be proven."

Scully carefully studied the dark woman. She decided to try to lighten the mood. She smiled, "I thought you said you weren't a mystic."

Largo shrugged. "Nothing mystical about knowing when someone's telling you a big fat lie."

"So, can you always tell if someone's lying?"

"You have to be looking for the lie in order to see it. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not. Most of the time they let me see it."

"With their eyes?"

Largo nodded. "With their eyes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holiday Inn Milwaukee, Room 316
Thursday June 12, 1997
1:25 am

The bedside phone rang. She sat up and flipped on the bedside lamp.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, this is Detective Wright. We've got another call."

"Have you ID'd the house?"

"We just dispatched. I'm headed over now."

He gave her directions to Elaine Mercer's apartment building and hung up. Scully rose quickly and rapped on the adjoining door. Within seconds Largo appeared in flannel pants and a t-shirt, her red eye open only to half-mast.

"Get dressed Largo. We've got another one."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elderwood Apartments #10
1:54 am

Scully spotted Detective Wright amidst a swarm of uniformed officers. As she approached she caught a fleeting glimpse of the ME huddled over a still form in the bedroom.

"Agent Scully, glad you made it so quick. 9-1-1 got the call a little before 1:00 am, and we were able to make a quick ID on the residence. The MO appears to be the same. She was tied to the bed and beaten, then her throat was cut. Her bedclothes are slightly ripped along a few seams, but otherwise intact."

"Did neighbors report hearing anything?"

"No, she was gagged, and apparently there were no loud crashes."

"Signs of struggle?" Largo asked, scanning the room from behind her glasses.

"Not many. A bedside lamp fell, but did not shatter."

He led them into the bedroom. The ME still stood over the body, taking photographs. Scully went over to question him while Largo and Wright surveyed the room. It was clear that there was little resistance to the attack. There were no scattered books, overturned tables, broken knickknacks. A fingerprint team was in the process of dusting. Largo walked out of the room and to the front door. Wright followed her.

"What are you looking for?"

"Signs of forced entry."

"And?"

"Lock