Mulder sat on his bed, flipping channels in an attempt to find something, anything, worth watching. He really wanted to be in the next room with Scully, but she had closed and locked the door behind her and asked him to please leave her alone. She wasn't angry or even mildly irritated; she'd spent the last six hours in an autopsy bay bent over two badly decomposed bodies. She'd found nothing to indicate that these people had died as a result of foul play, supernatural or otherwise. They'd simply been an elderly couple who'd died within hours of one another and had gone undiscovered until their mail carrier noticed they hadn't been picking up their mail. It was sad, but not all that unusual. All Scully wanted was the chance to wash the stench from her body and the images from her mind. Mulder understood, but it didn't make it any easier.

He knew the routine by heart. She'd shower first, washing her hair with a citrus-scented shampoo, the best scent for removing eau de autopsy. Afterwards, she'd draw a bath, complete with bubbles and scented candles, and soak until the water became too cool or she decided that she'd pruned up enough for one evening. Once dried and wrapped in her pajamas and robe, she'd log on and check her email. Scully was nothing, if not predictable.

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

Scully towel-dried the ends of her hair once more, then finger-combed the strands into place. She could hear Mulder flipping channels in the next room. Any other night, she might have considered unlocking the adjoining doors at this point, but his channel surfing meant he was restless and that he'd interpret the unlocked door as an invitation to come in. No, the door was staying locked, at least until he settled on a program.

She sat down on the bed and opened her laptop to check her email. Mostly junk, as usual, but as she scrolled down, one item caught her eye. "Alien/government technology needed?" She shook her head and opened the message.

"Oh, brother," she muttered.

Scully got up from the bed and unlocked the door. "Mulder, you decent?"

"Depends on your definition of the word."

"Do you have pants on?"

Mulder opened the door and stood before her, clad in a pair of jeans and nothing else. "If that's your definition of decent, then yes, I'm decent." He leaned against the doorframe. "I thought you wanted to be alone?"

"What email?"

"Alien technology? Really, Mulder, couldn't you have come up with something just a little more inventive?"

Mulder looked puzzled. "Scully, I have no idea what you're talking about. You said you wanted to be alone, so I left you alone."

"You really didn't send me anything?"

Mulder shook his head. "Can I see it?"

Scully moved away from the door and motioned toward the laptop on her bed. "Be my guest."

Mulder pushed off of the doorframe and walked over to the bed. He sat down and scanned the email in question. "This has Frohike written all over it," Mulder chuckled. "Did you respond?"

"No, of course not. I thought it was from you, remember?"

Mulder hit reply, added the second email address into the 'send to' field, then typed in a message for Frohike. He hit send and grinned. "Your move now, Melvin."

Within seconds, the new mail message sounded. "That was fast." Scully clicked on the mail icon and found two messages staring back her. "Well, that didn't work." She moved to hit delete.

"No, wait," Mulder said.

"Why?"

"Scully, look at them. Don't you see something wrong?"

"What? The email addresses were obviously fakes, Mulder. Surely you've gotten mailer-daemon messages before."

"Yeah, Scully, I've gotten plenty of mailer-daemon messages, but look at this one." He tapped the second message on the screen. "I don't know about you, but this is the first time I've seen a daemon-mailer message."

Scully frowned. "I'm sure it means the same thing."

Mulder shrugged. "Maybe. Open it."

"Sure, Mulder, whatever." She clicked on the note and scrolled down to the text. "I'll be damned."

"What's it say?"

Scully shook her head. "You're not going to believe this. 'Who's Frohike? I'm begging for help and you're acting like this is some sort of joke! Please don't make fun of me. Look, I know about Lisa Ianelli and Jason Nichols; does that buy me a few minutes of your time?'" She looked at Mulder, puzzled. "I know those names, but I can't quite. . ."

"MIT, Spring of '97. Remember, Scully? Jason Nichols was the scientist who came back from the future to stop his girlfriend, Lisa Ianelli, from meeting a scientist named McGuane. . ."

"Who will discover tachyons and their ability to go back and forth in time, but only at absolute zero. Yeah, I remember, now."

"Answer him."

"Mulder, do we really want to encourage this man?"

"The facts behind the Ianelli/Nichols case weren't exactly front page news, Scully. As I recall, nothing other than his obituary and a passing mention of the fire in the lab, ever made it into the paper. Besides, this trip was a waste of time, maybe our mystery man will make it worth our while after all."

Scully typed out a reply. "How's this 'You have our attention. When and where?'" Mulder nodded and she hit send. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"He's late, Mulder."

"We'll give him five more minutes, then head back to the hotel," he answered.

Scully sat back in the booth and frowned. "I still think this is a hoax and I swear, if Langly comes walking through that. . ."

"Yo, you the people waitin' for the email man?"

Mulder looked up into the eyes of a nervous young woman. "Who wants to know?"

She tapped her hand furiously against the outside of her thigh. "I wanna know, fool," she spat back. "What kinda stupid question is that? Are you waitin' for him or what?"

"Yes, we are," Scully answered. "Where is he?"

"Look, he gave me five bucks to ask you that question, then give you this," she said, as she produced a folded note from her jacket pocket. "I don't know nothin' else about the guy other than that." She tossed the note on the table. "I'm gone."

"Wait," Scully called out.

The woman turned around, still tapping her hand against her leg, but did not come back to the table. "What?"

"Can you at least tell us when you last saw him and what he looks like?"

The woman frowned and rubbed her upper arm. "He's just some old white dude that hangs out in the park behind the library sometimes. Look like every other old white guy out there, 'cept for them butt-ugly bell bottom pants he's always wearin'. Can I go now?"

Mulder nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"Yeah, whatever," the woman replied. She turned her back on them and walked out the door.

Scully unfolded the note. "He wants to meet us at the statue behind the library in the center of the park."

Mulder reached for his wallet and left a five on the table to cover the cost of their coffees. "Come on, Scully. The library's a few blocks up the street."

"And just how do you happen to know where the library is, Mulder?

"I saw the sign as we drove by, Scully. It pays to be aware of your surroundings."

She watched as he stood up. "So, let me get this straight, we're going to roam the park looking for an old white dude in a pair of butt-ugly bell bottoms?"

"Who's standing or sitting near the statue in the center of the park. Doesn't sound like he'll be too hard to spot."

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

He stood around the west corner of the library, only moving from the shadows when she came close. "Did you find them, Taneesha?"

"Yeah, I found 'em. They was sittin' there, just like you said they'd be."

He grabbed her arm. "Are they coming? Did they say they'd meet with me?"

Taneesha jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Look old man, don't fuck with me. I gave 'em your note, just like you paid me to do. I don't know if they'll show up and I don't give a shit either. Go take your crazy ass self back to the park and leave me alone." She took off down the street, muttering, her words fading as she crossed the street. "Crazy ass fool think he can grab my arm. Try that again, I'll show you. . ."

He looked down the street, in the opposite direction from where Taneesha had gone. Two figures crossed Third Street, at the east end of the library and kept going down the side street to the park. Hoping that the two figures were the agents he was so desperate to talk to, he turned and ran back to the park. The statue was slightly closer to the east side of the building, but they didn't have much of a head start, so he was sure he'd get there ahead of them. Besides, they'd probably stay out of the shadows, to be on the safe side. He knew two things; one, there was no such thing as a safe side and two, there wasn't a person in that park that would mess with Daemon the Demon.

Demon, he thought, shaking his head. It was an unfortunate nickname he'd earned as a result of an altercation in this same park four months ago. Some whacked-out addict, high on God-knows-what, came at him with a blade, screaming 'I'm gonna fuck you up'. Daemon spun on him like a whirling dervish and ended up driving that blade into the addict's throat. The police arrived and took statements. Witnesses said Daemon acted in self-defense and since the deceased had prior assault charges on his record, the matter was quickly dropped. By that evening, the story of Daemon's attack and subsequent defense had grown to epic proportions. He'd become a madman with glaring red eyes, shooting flames from his fingertips, while spewing some sort of voodoo spell. His foot wasn't responsible for embedding the knife in the guy's throat; the knife twirled in the air and flew in of its own accord. For a while, Daemon tried to dispel the rumors, but finally decided it wasn't worth the effort. Being a 'demon' meant most people left him alone and that was just fine, as far as he was concerned.

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

Mulder nudged Scully and tipped his head to the side. "That must be our guy."

The figure looked around, then advanced on the agents. He slowed as he got close enough to speak without having to raise his voice. "You Scully and Mulder?"

"Yes," Scully answered.

He came closer and held out his hand. "Good, I was hoping you were. Thanks for coming."

"We almost didn't," Mulder added, as he shook the proffered hand. "How do you know about the Ianelli case, Mr.? I'm sorry, what should we call you?"

Daemon pulled his hand away. "Daemon, Daemon Augustus Mailer. And don't laugh ok, that really is my name. My parents thought the initials were funny. Who knew email would come along and make it an even bigger joke?"

"You won't hear me laughing, Mr. Mailer," Mulder said. "I understand completely. What do you know bout the Ianelli case?"

"Come on, let's have a seat; this could take a while." He led them to the nearest bench and wiped it down before they sat. "Sometimes the birds aren't too careful, you know?" he replied to Scully's unasked question.

"Right, thanks," she said.

"Lisa and I met on a project in '99, a few years after Jason Nichols died. We weren't lovers or anything; don't get the wrong idea, but we did get close. You work in a small lab space, day in and day out with someone and you learn a lot about one another. You two know how that is, right?"

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks.

"That's what I thought. Anyway, one night, we were killing time waiting for some results and we decided to check out what was on tv. We stopped on Quantum Leap, you know, that show about time travel?"

"Yes," Scully answered. "We're familiar with the show. Go on."

"So, we got to discussing Sam Beckett's string theory of time travel and how he figured that you could travel back and forth, but only in your own lifetime. I started saying what a cool idea it was and Lisa shut down. Just stopped talking. I couldn't figure out why, but I was pretty sure it was something I'd said, so I asked her what was wrong. She didn't say anything for a coupla minutes, but then she looked up and told me that the string theory was sound; she'd seen it happen for real and it was anything but cool." Daemon stopped talking and stared off into the night sky.

"Mr. Mailer?"

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I haven't talked about this to anyone before; it's hard." He looked down at his hands and continued. "It took a little coaxing, but she finally told me the whole story. How Jason had come back to kill her so that she wouldn't meet this McGuane guy and screw up the future with her discovery. How his present and future self died together in the lab fire, but only one body was found. How you saved her life, everything. It didn't end there though, did you know that? She found Jason's formula on his hard drive, downloaded it for safekeeping and then wiped his hard drive so no one else would find it."

Mulder looked surprised. "She continued the work anyway?"

"She was a scientist, Agent Mulder, did you really think she'd toss that information away? Time travel, or rather the invention of a workable time travel machine, would be the greatest discovery of our time. My God, the scientist finally able to put it all together would be rich beyond our wildest imagining. That would be beyond Nobel worthy!"

"But the dangers, she'd already seen firsthand what could happen," Scully protested.

"Yes, which is why she was trying to make it work in a more conventional way. She wanted to be a real-life Sam Beckett, only with control of the process and not free-falling like he was."

"What happened?" Mulder asked.

"She said she almost had it. I laughed, I thought she was pulling my leg. I mean, after all, if you had the key to time travel in your hands, would you be working in some basement laboratory on a way to make grey water potable? Give me a break! I guess I pissed her off, because she disappeared for a while and when she got back, she showed me what she was talking about. She had it, well almost, but damn if she wasn't close to a breakthrough."

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Sorry, cottonwood screws up my sinuses this time of year. Where was I? Oh yeah. After she showed me her research, we started working on it together. Any time we could squirrel away from our other project, was spent trying to fill in the missing piece of her puzzle. We weren't careful about security; I guess we didn't think that anyone was paying attention."

"They're always paying attention, Mr. Mailer," Mulder said.

"Yeah, we found that out. I left early one day. I wasn't feeling well and Lisa sent me out to see a doctor. Didn't turn out to be anything but a little sinus infection, so the doc gave me an antibiotic and sent me home. I was at home for a few hours, but couldn't stand being alone with nothing to think about but how crappy I felt, so I decided to go back to the lab."

He stopped talking again and hid his face in his hands.

"Can we get you anything, Mr. Mailer?" Scully asked. "Coffee? Something stronger?"

"I don't drink, Agent Scully," he answered quietly. "And I avoid artificial stimulants as much as possible." He looked up and saw Scully's pained expression. "It's all right, I know you were just trying to help."

"Please continue, Mr. Mailer."

"I got to the building and at the top of the stairs, heard noises. Lisa screamed and I ran down as fast as I could. I remember being hit on the head. When I woke up, Lisa. . .they'd slit her throat. Those butchers almost took her head off; the cut was that deep. There was so much blood."

He couldn't continue; tears were streaming down his face. Scully reached into her purse and handed him a tissue. "Thanks. I'm sorry, after all these years, it's still so fresh in my mind."

"It's all right; we understand how difficult this must be," Mulder said. "It's never easy to talk about the death of a close friend."

"No, it's not," Daemon admitted. "But I need to finish." He took a deep breath and moved on. "I tried to help her, but she already long gone. I wish I could say that I ran out of there and went for help, but I didn't. Once I knew she was gone, I went straight for the research. I knew it wouldn't be there, but I checked anyway. Everything was gone; the computers, the disks, our files, everything. Those bastards even took all of our grey water research. I was on my way upstairs to call the police, but somebody'd already taken care of it. One of the guard's kids was out riding his bike and saw two men tossing computers into the back of a van. He told his dad and his dad called the cops. Guy almost ran me over trying to get down to the basement. I told him that Lisa was dead and that maybe he'd be better off waiting upstairs until the cops showed up, then I passed out. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, being treated for a concussion. The cops came and questioned me about Lisa's death and the robbery at the lab. I didn't tell them about our other research, just about the official stuff. I heard that they eventually wrote it off as robbery gone sour, but I knew better. Anyway, that night I had a visitor. He looked like an orderly, so I didn't think anything of it and made no effort to show that I was awake, until he injected something into my IV tube. I sat up fast and started yelling and the guy ran away. I tried to pull the tube out before the stuff got into me, but I wasn't fast enough. Most of it dripped out onto the floor, but some of it got me. It burned so bad. It felt like my arm was on fire. Pretty soon, my whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out. I remember lots of screaming and I'm pretty sure it was all coming from me. Half the night staff appeared in my room and then I passed out again."

"Did they find out what you were injected with?" Scully asked.

"No one ever said, if they did and I didn't stick around long enough to ask a lot of questions. As soon as I woke up the next morning, I left. Just got dressed and walked out of there when no one was looking. I never went home, just went to the bank, emptied out my account and took off. That was almost three years ago. Whatever it was that guy stuck in me is still screwing with my body. Some days my limbs go numb. Other days, I can hardly swallow. Sometime I wake up so dizzy that I can't see straight. I don't sweat anymore and I can't feel hot or cold very well. In a few more months, I'm going to have to head south so I don't fall asleep in the park and freeze to death," he paused and stared straight into Scully's eyes. "Unless you can help me get back."

"Mr. Mailer, we don't have any knowledge of a working time travel machine," Scully said. "Until the Ianelli case, I never believed it possible."

"But now you do?" Mulder asked.

Scully sighed. "Now I'm open to accepting the possibility," she answered.

"But you can't help me find my way back," Daemon said quietly.

"I'm afraid not."

"You were my last hope. Lisa said that you two were the only ones who knew what really happened to Jason. I thought, well, you know what I thought."

"Look, we can't take you back in time, but maybe we can help you now. I'm a medical doctor, Mr. Mailer. Given time, maybe we can figure out what's making you sick."

"I can't go back into a hospital. If they find me, they'll kill me for sure."

"We don't have to start off in the hospital," Scully said. "I can draw blood and run some tests in the lab in Quantico. No one has to know."

"I have some friends who can help you out," Mulder added. "We can give you a new identity, a place to stay and you'd be close enough for Scully to run her tests. It's not what you were hoping for, but it's a chance to begin again."

Daemon stood up and swayed for a second, before getting his bearings. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take my chances out in the open. Out here, I know where I stand. If I can't go back, at least I can go forward on my own steam."

Scully opened her mouth to protest, but Mulder shook her off. She nodded, but spoke anyway. "If you change your mind," she said.

"I know how to find you," Daemon answered. "Thank you for listening and for offering to help." He turned and walked away.

Mulder and Scully watched until he turned the corner by the parking garage.

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes, Mulder, surprisingly enough, I believe him."

Mulder smiled and reached for her hand. "Scully? Can I buy you a drink?"

She took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Just one?"