Part 3

March 21, 2000
8 AM

Mulder woke up alone in his hotel room. Feeling good.  Surprisingly.

She hadn't been in his bed the night before so there was no aching 
disappointment at the empty space beside him. They had made a bit of 
progress by talking about it yesterday. Airing out some emotions; some 
difficulties with the recent change in their relationship. He had been 
somewhat naïve to believe that making love automatically came with a 
fully realized "relationship." And it had been a knee-jerk reaction to 
think he could just crawl into a small fetal ball and lick his own 
wounds. 

He couldn't go back to the relationship they had two weeks ago any more 
than Scully could. So what if things weren't as full of hearts and 
flowers as he originally expected?  He loved Scully. He knew she loved 
him. They may not have a conventional relationship but then again, they 
never had. It was foolish to believe that convention would have taken 
over in their romantic life. She needed her space. He did, as well. If 
those individual needs were on a different schedule at the moment, so 
be it. They had put way too much in their relationship before being 
lovers to suddenly stop being open to understanding each other after. 
He smirked to himself. All those years at Oxford finally paid off. He 
could talk some sense into himself once every decade or so and knock 
the old bad angel straight back to hell.

He stretched as he pulled himself out of bed, when he heard the knock 
on his door. He walked over and opened the door for Scully.

"You're up early," he said, as he watched her walk in, fully dressed 
with a small stack of files in her arms.

"The coroner dropped these off on his way to work this morning. Saved 
us a trip."

"And interrupted your beauty sleep," he said, taking note of the dark 
splotches beneath her eyes.

"I'll use more concealer later. I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"How come?" he asked, pretty much knowing the answer. She just looked 
directly into his eyes. He shrugged.

"I have to take a shower, Scully. Order up some room service and start 
reading."

She walked over to the room service menu and gasped aloud as Mulder 
dropped a quick, open-mouthed kiss on the side of her neck. She 
shivered in response.

"Good morning, by the way," he said before turning around and walking 
into the bathroom.

He could feel her eyes on him until he quietly closed the door between 
them.


One hour later, Scully finally put down the files and lifted the 
remnants of a cold English muffin to her mouth.

"Anything?" Mulder asked.

"No. Jim Downey was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease but from 
the evidence presented by the brain tissue, it should not have played a 
significant role in his suicide. Lawrence and Burns had nothing but the 
usual afflictions of the elderly. Some arthritis, diabetes. . . all 
conditions seemed to be under control and nothing presents as 
contributing to sudden violent behavior."

"Drugs?"

"Medications, Mulder. And all prescription for the conditions I've 
already mentioned."

"Funky tea? Small pin pricks?"

She smiled.

"No. And from the look of this entire report--they did a very thorough 
examination."

"So," he said, resting against the back of his chair, "We could very 
well have an X-file after all."

"Not necessarily," she said automatically. 

"Well," he quickly stood up, "it's now almost 9:30. I think it's safe 
to go visit Jim Downey's daughter. Unless everyone in this state is on 
diva-time."

2 hours later
Veronica Meadows' home

Veronica Meadows, Jim Downey's daughter, was in her early 50's. She sat 
on a veranda overlooking a huge yard. Mulder looked around, enjoying 
the view. Perfectly landscaped, perfectly manicured lawn on a perfect 
California day. A far cry from the still cold and gray east coast.

"My father knew about the Alzheimer's. He had been diagnosed a few 
months before."

"Do you think he was upset enough to kill himself over it?"

"That is probably the assumption most people make. But, no. I don't 
think so. He was a man of great faith. And at the time of his death, 
really it was just the more subtle symptoms of Alzheimer's that were 
manifesting themselves. Occasional forgetfulness. Nothing major."

"Why do you think he killed himself?"

"I have no idea." The woman shook her head sadly and lifted a plate of 
cookies to offer to Mulder and Scully once again. They both shook their 
heads in refusal.

"Do you think he killed himself?" Mulder asked as gently as he could.

"Why? Why do you ask? Is there evidence that someone. . ."

"No," Scully jumped in. "Absolutely not. All evidence points to 
suicide. We just wanted to investigate all possibilities--no matter how 
remote. Did he have any enemies?"

"Agent Scully--if you asked me that thirty years ago, I would probably 
have said yes. He was career military. He was in charge of quite a few 
people in his day so I'm sure he made enemies. But now--he was an old 
retired gentleman surrounded by other old retired gentlemen. They 
played golf. Went to each other's funerals. No. No enemies. I'm sure of 
it."

"Not even from the distant past?" Mulder continued to press.

"I suppose anything is possible but I really doubt it."

Scully decided to examine another angle.

"He chose rat poison in his milk as the method of suicide. When you 
heard this--was there any connection--to anything at all--no matter how 
trivial it may have seemed?"

"He didn't live in a tenement, if that's what you're going for. He 
lived in a retirement community. Nice, clean, well cared for 
apartments. There was no need for rat poison. Which meant he had to go 
out and buy it. Which meant he planned it and yet. . ."

"Yes?" Mulder prompted.

"Yet he didn't leave me a note saying goodbye. Only left one for that 
actress."

"What do you know about his relationship with her?"

"Relationship? I don't know. It seemed more like a fling from the 
stories I heard. During the Korean War, she went to visit the troops. 
They took these starlets and paraded them in skimpy dresses so the 
troops could feel--I don't know--alive for a moment. Forget their 
troubles in a rush of horniness. She took a liking to my dad and he did 
to her. Apparently, they had a pretty short affair. That was the end of  
it. I mean, fathers don’t--in general--talk about their love lives to 
their daughters but my mom used to bring it up. She found it kind of 
funny that he went from Charlotte Colby to her. I think she found it 
somewhat flattering in a bizarre sort of way."

"And he never had contact with her again."

"No. Never. He knew about this book she was writing but no direct 
contact."

"And how did he know?"

"Agents. . .legal representatives from the publishing company, I 
think."

"Well, thank you very much for your help. May we call you if we need 
any further information?" Scully asked, standing up.

"Of course. I really would like the closure that a little more 
knowledge would supply. It's terrible living with a complete mystery."

Mulder smiled at her.

"We'll do everything we can." 

The woman felt somewhat reassured. He didn't sound like the type of 
person who made hollow promises.


2 PM
Hollywood soundstage

"So, what could be more perfect? We find out about the book. So, if 
it's a hit--we'll do a little retrospective of Charlotte's work. She's 
sort of semi-underappreciated but, man, does she have a lot of movies. 
And since she is 'underappreciated' at the moment--we can get 'um 
cheap. So we went ahead and bought them. The whole damned lot. We 
decided to air them next month for the first time. Build up a bit of 
Charlotte mystique. Then, hopefully, the book will come out in another 
three to six months and boom--we can show them again when we have the 
double whammy of the book and the films to build her into a true 
legend. And publicity, at this point, is cheap--if not downright free. 
So--I go with it. Get the past to help build up interest for the 
future. Two old codgers like Lawrence and Burns get all dressed up and 
recreate a scene from one of Charlotte's movies. Still pining away 
after all these years."

"And you came up with this idea out of the blue?" Mulder asked Blaine 
Walker: producer, director and general jack of all trades working 
exclusively with a cable movie channel. Fairly small time job in the 
entertainment industry; fairly big time ego. They were all in 
director's chairs on a nearly empty soundstage. Everyone was "taking 
ten."

"Well, yeah. Me and Jeff. That's Charlotte's agent. Jeff Stevens. He 
did the initial pushing to the network."

"And the men--Lawrence and Burns--were receptive?"

"Sure. They were flattered. Ate it all up with a spoon, I tell ya. 
Wives muttering about their bad bathroom habits and how they don't get 
it up anymore and someone offering them the chance to go out there and 
relive the glory days. . .what's not to love? Oh, excuse me, Miss." He 
said, looking at Scully's somewhat off-put expression.

Mulder unsuccessfully suppressed a smile.

"Okay. Then what happened--in your words?"

"Got the codgers here. Made things look like they did 45 years ago--but 
bigger--better. Even got their old makeup guy here. Well, he was the 
only one from that crew alive, actually. I checked around. It's 
somewhat of an old home-buddy-buddy atmosphere, right? Okay. So, 
they're ready. Action! They say their lines--a bit melodramatic--but 
that's in keeping with the old style and the natural ham in all of us. 

Then, all of a sudden--someone changes the name of the female they are 
supposed to be dueling over and uses Charlotte's real name instead. I 
don't remember which one it was. That wasn't in the script. They are 
supposed to be dueling over the character Charlotte played in Sayonara 
Sunrise. Her name was Betty in that flick. So, one of the coots 
mentions Charlotte's name and they are off and arguing. So, I'm sitting 
back thinking--damn. These old farts are having a little fun at my 
expense and I kind of lean back to enjoy the show. Hell, it's early. We 
can waste a little time. And they are going at it--verbally--back and 
forth. They aim their 'pistols' at each other--bang, bang. Nothing, of 
course, happens because the guns are fake. 

So, they both run off set--one goes up to the catering table and pulls 
a bread knife--the other takes a scissor that someone left sitting 
around and before I know it--they go at each other and there is 
freaking blood all over the goddamned place. The one that got stabbed 
in the neck died almost instantly. And the other--died at the 
hospital."

"Charlotte--was on the scene?" Scully asked.

"No. We weren't going to do her at all. I don't know how much publicity 
she will eventually do for the book--but we thought it would be better 
to do the spots without her. Leave her young and fresh in the minds of 
the audience. If two old guys battle over an old woman--well, it just 
makes things pathetic, doesn't it?"

Scully swallowed the retort that came to her lips.

Mulder leaned forward on the director's chair.

"In the movie--the Sayonara Sunrise one--they killed each other with 
guns?"

"No. It was a sword fight. We thought we'd modern it up a bit by using 
guns."

"I see. And in the movie--how did both of them end up dying? I mean--if 
they were dueling--one would die and one would live."

"You should see the movie. That was the beauty of it, my man. They 
cheated. Both of the lovers cheated by coming at each other full blast. 
No rules of duelsmanship. They both ran each other through with 
swords."

"So, in effect--these older versions were also--dying in the same way 
as their characters--just using different weapons because there weren't 
any swords around."

"Yeah. I guess. Finally let that old senile dementia get to them."

Scully considered giving the director a brief lecture on the ailments 
of the elderly--fact versus fiction--but thought better of it. She was 
sure he didn't care one way or the other.

They left the movie set shortly after the now ritual exchange of 
business cards and cell phone numbers. 

Golden Dove Diner
3:55 PM

"That's interesting," Mulder said, adjusting his napkin over his 
slacks. They had decided to go out and have a late-lunch/early dinner 
even though they knew it would be a long evening and they would 
probably have to fit yet another meal into their schedule at some point 
during the night.

"What?"

"The connection between method of death in the film and method of death 
of these two actors."

"It's coincidence, Mulder. Nothing more. Mr. Costas and Mr. Downey 
weren't actors."

"No. But it's a place to start."

"Not really. We asked Downey's daughter about the rat poison and she 
couldn't explain it."

"But maybe Charlotte can."

She leaned back and wiped her fingers on the napkin in front of her.

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. He stared straight in her eyes. He knew 
this Scully so well. The working Scully. The skeptical Scully.  He 
wanted more of the Scully he didn't know as well.

"What kind of movies did you like as a kid, Scully? Doctor movies? 
Adventures on the high seas?"

"I liked old romantic comedies."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. What's so odd about that?"

"I don’t know. I guess we haven't always had the opportunity to laugh 
that much."

"We've had our moments."

"I guess we have. So, you like all that happily ever after stuff, huh?"

"In an idealized--two hour format. Yes."

He smiled softly.

"Favorite actor?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I liked them all really."

"Liar."

It was her turn to smile.

"Well, I didn't have anyone I drooled over as you do with Charlotte 
Colby, if that's what you want to know."

"If Cary Grant came and sat down next to you right now--you wouldn't 
drool?"

"I would absolutely salivate. The articles I could write over the 
medical and mystical miracle of a long-dead actor coming back to life 
would be an incredible opportunity."

"Ah. Romance is alive and well in Scullyland."

She sighed and looked him in the eye. His eyes and voice softened in 
response.

"Bet you never thought you'd be in the middle of living one of those 
screwball comedies, did you, Scully?"

"Comedy, Mulder?"

"You said we had our moments."

"Moments. But more moments of high drama."

"So, that rules out a happy ending?"

"I hope not. Although, we  very different."

"That's always managed to work for us, though."

"You didn't seem to think so yesterday."

"That was my penis talking. Its sensibilities were offended. You came 
to my bed aiming for 'nice,' for heaven's sake."

"I'm not sure I even know what I was aiming for. I just wanted to be 
with you. Life without a script. You take the action but aren't sure of 
the next step."

"I could always act out the tried and true, 'I would die for you" 
scenario. That would prove my intentions and give us a direction."

"No.  That's been done already.  Many times." She looked off through 
the somewhat foggy diner window at the parking lot. "You've been 
willing to die for me many, many times. . ."

"As you have for me," he pointed out, softly.

"I guess I have."

He leaned over and quickly squeezed her hand, bringing her attention 
back to the present time.

"The movies aint got nothing on us, Scully. But it is time to go for 
the happily ever after soon. "

She reached over and took a sip of his coffee, smiling with her eyes 
over the rim of the cup.

5PM
Greg Amanti's home

Charlotte's eyes. It had been so long since he looked into them.  A 
gasp of surprise came from his lips as he realized he was actually 
looking into the deep, clear green depths once again. He had almost 
forgotten what it felt like. To be taken to another place where nothing 
else mattered; nothing else existed.

"You're tired, Greg. You've told me so much today and now you should 
rest.  Should I come back later?"

"No. Tomorrow. I need to know I can see you tomorrow."

"Fine. I will be back. Tomorrow. Today, you told me; tomorrow you can 
show me."


End of Part 3

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