Chasing Shadows

Author:  Entil'zha

Feedback:  entil2001@yahoo.com

Summary: Doggett looks into a possible lead on Mulder

Rating:  R (profanity, violence)

Legal Disclaimer: All my pretty little toys belong to 
Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, Fox, etc., etc.

Category: Your normal everyday action-packed X-File

Spoilers:  This occurs just before "The Gift".  There are
spoilers for "Requiem" through "Badlaa", though more
specifically "Within/Without".

***

Downtown Washington, DC
 
11:15 PM


The woman at the counter of the Inn of the Dove Hotel 
looked up at the sound of the door opening to the lobby.  
She sighed heavily, slapping her paperback onto the 
counter, wistfully tracing her eyes over the generic 
"bodice-ripper" cover.  "Just when I was getting to the 
good part, too...never fails..."

She glanced up at the visitor, and then clicked the 
button on the microphone.  "How long, and how many?"

"Just me," the visitor replied, and the man's deep, 
raspy voice made the woman look up in interest.  Sure 
enough, this was no ordinary john looking to make a 
score in a cheap hotel.  This guy was quality material.  
Tight denim jeans, leather jacket, even a clean T-shirt.
Sure, the sunglasses were a bit much, but she could still 
see the strong line of his jaw, and the slightly worn 
expression on his face.  She could almost imagine what 
his eyes must be like.  She also noted the rather large 
workout bag that he carried over his shoulder.

"Just you, huh?" she said, knowing better.  "Meeting 
someone?"

"Room 113," he said with a smile.  "Has she already 
arrived?"

The woman sniffed.  She was hoping he was here for 
the old lady in 106.  At least then she could have hoped 
for some fun after her shift ended.  "Yeah, she's in 
there.  Popular girl."

The man laughed, pulling out his wallet.  "How much?"

"Depends on how long you intend to take, honey," the 
woman said, casually wiping at the security barrier 
to get an even better look.

"How about two hours?" he replied, leaning in just a 
little closer, as if to satisfy her curiosity.

"Fifty, then," she said quickly.  "And sign in before 
you go."

The man slid the money through the barely open slot 
under the security barrier, and then signed his name 
on the soiled sheet of paper taped on his side of the 
plexiglass: Sean O'Donnell, 113.  He scanned the page 
for another familiar name, and quickly found it: Donna 
Scoletti.  He snapped his attention back to the matter at
hand when he heard the woman behind the counter slide 
the key through the slot.

"Thanks, darlin'," the man said as he slipped past the 
counter on his way towards the rest of the hotel.  The 
woman took another quick look while she still had the 
chance, and then cursed her usual luck before grabbing 
her paperback and getting back to her typical kind of 
evening.

***

The man quickly closed the door behind him, taking a 
good look at his companion for the evening.  As he had 
expected, she had been waiting for him.  One look at her 
made him drop the workout bag by the door, waiting for 
her greeting.

She was not a tall woman, but she more than made up for 
her lack of stature.  The tight, black vinyl pants 
displayed an athletic build, something that he had 
appreciated more than once over the past few months.  
Similarly, her black vinyl halter top was stretched
tightly over her chest, emphasizing her proportioned 
build.  Oddly, she chose a halter that stretched down to 
her stomach, but he was not about to question her choices 
tonight.  Her long blonde hair fell perfectly on the 
smoothness of her shoulders.

"It's about time," she said, sliding off the bed onto 
her feet.  She wrapped her arms around his waist, slipping 
her hands up his back.  "I was waiting for almost an hour."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said with a grin.  
Returning her embrace, he pressed his cheek against hers, 
whispering in her ear.  "Did you check out the room?"  
He noted with satisfaction that the blinds were already 
drawn.

"You bet I did," she replied sternly.  "And you're 
clean."

"Good."  He pulled away quickly, and let her step 
back out of his grasp.  Pulling off his leather jacket, 
he tossed it on the bed.  "I think I managed to get here 
without a tail."  He slid his sunglasses into his pocket.

"Same here."  Agent Dana Scully pulled the blonde wig 
from her head, tossing it onto the chair by the window.  
Without hesitation, she grabbed the leather jacket on 
the bed and pulled it over her shoulders.  "Mind if I 
use your jacket?  I had to lock the guys in the bathroom.  
They were just standing there, staring at me."

Agent John Doggett shook his head.  "Not a problem.  
Though they might still stare."  Scully flashed him a 
scowl, and then walked over to the bathroom door.  "OK, 
we're clear."  She quickly zipped up the front of the 
jacket.

The door opened, and Frohike gave Scully a disappointed 
look.  "We were playing our roles, Agent Scully.  We're 
supposed to be your clients, aren't we?"

"The blinds were closed.  Who were you acting for?"  
Scully looked over Frohike's head and waved Langley 
and Byers into the room.  "Come on, we don't have much 
time."

"Actually, we have plenty of time," Byers said 
apologetically.

That stopped Scully cold.  "Please tell me you haven't 
come up empty again."  She glared at the three Lone 
Gunmen with an uncharacteristic rage.  "It's been months!  
I thought you guys were supposed to be the best!"

"Our kung fu is the best," Frohike said, his voice 
resigned.  "But there's nothing out there.  Not one 
mention of Mulder, or circumstances that sound remotely 
similar to what you encountered in Oregon or Arizona."

Doggett looked the men over and shook his head.  
"Nothing?  Not even something about alien bounty 
hunters?  I thought the Internet would be jam-packed 
with that sort of thing."

Langley slipped his laptop out from under his jacket.  
"Check for yourself, if you like."

"Dell, and the wireless Internet," Byers said with 
satisfaction. "At least we saved some time while we 
were standing in the bathroom."  He glared at Frohike.

"Hey, you were getting a good look yourself, bud," 
Frohike said, looking back at Scully.  "You know, it 
might help if we broke up the routine a little.  I mean, 
Doggett's been coming in like that since we started this 
whole business.  Maybe one of us should play the big 
john next time."

"Got anyone in mind?" Langley said, smiling widely 
as he prepared the computer for another search.

"All right, guys, let's knock it off," Doggett said, 
stepping behind Langley, who set the computer on the 
small table by the window.  "I take it you've looked 
at the all the public information, but what about the 
private access?"

"I thought you disapproved of those methods, Agent 
Doggett," Byers said calmly.  "Especially the part 
about breaking into classified files and government 
databases."

"I still do," Doggett replied.  "But I'm losing my patience 
as much as anyone.  I find it hard to continue respecting 
the privacy of the Bureau when every step they take seems 
to be designed to get in our way."  He pointed to the screen.  
"Just see what you can find this time."

Scully caught his eye from across the room, and he walked
over to join her.  "You all right?"

"Yeah, John, I'm fine," Scully answered, running her hands
over her eyes.  "Just not feeling entirely well.  I think 
these late night meetings are getting to me a little."

Doggett paused for a moment, as if choosing his words 
carefully.  "You know, Dana, I don't want to intrude on 
your personal business, but is there anything I can do 
to help?  I know you've needed some personal time now 
and then, since Mulder went missing."

Scully shook her head.  "Nothing you can really help 
solve, John.  Part of it is the same old story.  I miss 
him.  I miss him terribly.  And the longer he's gone, 
the harder it is to believe that everything is going to 
turn out happy in the end."  She forced herself to smile.  
"How are you holding up?"

"Better than I thought I would be," Doggett replied 
honestly.  "It's been a hard pill to swallow.  Going from 
a great career track, and then finding myself in the most 
ridiculed department in the entire Bureau."

"Tell me about it," Scully muttered.  "I felt the same 
way.  But at least in those days, there was the semblance 
of something a little more respectable.  We still worked 
on regular cases in the violent crimes unit from time to 
time, and of course I was the medical consultant on the 
team."  She sighed heavily, shaking her head.  "I don't 
even know why they bother asking me for reports anymore.
They don't expect me to debunk Mulder's work anymore, 
that's for sure."

"It's something that's been bothering me ever since I was 
assigned to the X-Files," Doggett added.  "When Mulder was 
around, there seemed to be a certain expectation.  He would 
go off on one of his X-File cases, and you were there to 
more or less ground him in reality."

"That was my original assignment," Scully admitted.  
"Things changed, of course, but the entire idea was to 
find a rational explanation for the events in those files."

"Exactly my point," Doggett agreed.  "So why was I 
assigned?  I'm not a scientist, so I'm not going to come 
up with some theory as to why something can't be a green 
eyed monster from outer space.  And as much as you want 
to take on Mulder's legacy, it's not a perfect fit.  
So what is the value of having the two of us on the 
X-Files in the first place?"

"I'm not sure, but it has to be related to the reasons 
why we can't seem to find any more leads on Mulder after 
all this time," Scully said.  "More than once in the past, 
for more than one reason, they have tried to reassign me 
to other departments whenever there was an excuse to 
close down the X-Files.  So why not this time?"

"I think Deputy Director Kersh might be involved," Doggett 
replied, after a moment of thought.  "He acted like he 
wanted me to find Mulder more than anything in the world, 
Dana, and then once that Gibson Praise business came down, 
it was a whole different ballgame.  Even Skinner's noticed.  
We get these ridiculous assignments again and again, dealing 
with who knows what, but not one thing about the search 
for Mulder.  And how long has he been missing?"

"Too long," Scully whispered.  She looked into Doggett's 
eyes.  "Look, John, I know that this might sound bizarre..."

Doggett gave her a slightly intolerant glare.  "Are you 
going to start with the aliens again?  Because I think 
I heard enough about that with the bounty hunter."

"No, not that," Scully said quickly.  "I'm talking about 
why you're on the X-Files.  Skinner told me once that you 
were considered the best of the best, a real top candidate 
for a director's position.  Then Kersh comes along, puts 
you in charge of finding Mulder.  Only to assign you to 
the X-Files when that search runs dry after a week or so.  
Keeping us on assignments so that we don't even have the 
time to look into the medical records, or the travel 
records, none of it."

"What are you getting at?" Doggett said, but his expression 
suggested that he had considered what she was about to say 
more than once.

"Kersh used to be in charge when Mulder and I were 
assigned to the domestic terrorism unit a couple years 
ago.  More than once, he made it clear that it was his 
job to keep us from looking into the X-Files.  So I know 
for a fact that he has the resources to keep us, and that 
includes Assistant Director Skinner, from looking where 
he does not want us to look."

"And it conveniently keeps me in a position where I can't 
threaten his authority, while my own reputation gets 
dragged through the mud," Doggett said, his tone betraying 
his anger.  "I've gone over it before in my head, Dana, but 
I still can't figure out why.  And what kind of resources 
Kersh would have."

"I have some ideas," Scully said, but she forced herself 
not to say anything more.  She trusted Doggett, that much 
was beyond question by now.  But there were some things 
that had to wait.  Alex Krycek, and the fact that he had 
not been seen since Mulder's disappearance,  was one of 
those things.  Only she and Skinner knew what that might 
mean, and that was personal.

"Let me know if they work out," Doggett said, knowing 
better than to press her on the matter.  "In the meantime, 
I think we should stick to the plan.  Remain absolutely 
professional in all ways while on the job.  Assume we are 
being monitored at all times, in the field and otherwise.  
The more they believe that we have little or no common
interest, the less reason they have to wonder what we're 
up to."

"It is the safest thing to do, even if it is frustrating," 
Scully agreed.

"Scully, Doggett, come look at this."  Frohike waved them 
over to the computer.  "I think we might have something."

Scully ran over to the computer.  "What is it?  Does it 
mention Mulder?"

"No, not specifically," Langley said with a hint of apology.  
"But it does mention a murder case up in New York.  One of 
the detectives apparently found himself standing in a patch 
of green liquid that ate right through the bottoms of his 
shoes.  Take a look."

Scully scanned the page, and then turned to Doggett.  
"Would you happen to know a Detective Thomas Egan?"

"Know him?"  Doggett said with a grin.  "I used to work 
with him all the time.  He still working in Queens?"

Scully nodded.  "Apparently this happened in Long Island 
City, in the industrial section."

Doggett walked over to the door and grabbed the workout bag.
"Sounds like a lead, and one that we can do something about
without anyone catching on.  I've got some personal time on
the books that I should take sooner or later.  Think Skinner 
will mind if I take it now?"

"I'd say no," Scully answered.  "Especially since we have 
precious little else going on right now."

Doggett nodded.  "Then let me get changed.  I'll call 
Skinner from the house, and I'll catch up with you once I 
find out what happened to Tommy.  Will you be able to do 
some forensic testing, if we need it?"

Scully considered the notion.  "I can't see why not.  If 
you're on leave, they'll probably have me running tests 
in the meantime.  Fitting something extra in shouldn't be 
a problem."  Scully hesitated, and then said carefully, 
"I should go with you, though.  If there's any chance that 
Mulder is there..."

"Then I'll tell you right away, Dana," Doggett assured her.  
"Let's keep this simple for now.  This might be nothing.  
Tommy should play it straight with me.  We'll know quick 
if this is just a waste of time."

Scully was still unsure, but she finally nodded her assent.  
"You're right.  Besides, I'm still waiting on something 
here."

Doggett raised an eyebrow.  "Personal business?"

"Personal business," Scully admitted.  "Like I said, 
nothing to worry about."

***

Long Island City, NY

11:58 AM

As Doggett came off of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, he 
swore to himself that he would remember not to take that 
particular route into LIC next time he came for a visit.  
Traffic around the city was bad enough, after all, without 
having to sit for hours on end with hardly a moment of 
progress.

At least he had remembered to leave Washington early in 
the morning.  Otherwise, he would have been late for his 
meeting with Tommy.  As it was, Tommy would probably be 
waiting for him at the warehouse.

Doggett veered into the lane for Greenpoint Ave., and 
got caught at the light.  As usual, both lanes of traffic 
were trying to cram into position, vying for the right 
to slide into the single lane across the intersection.  
It was no big deal to Doggett; it gave him the chance 
to take a look at the once-familiar neighborhood.

It hadn't changed much.  Sure, some of the business signs 
looked new, but the buildings looked as though they were
days away from demolition.  Even the Korean church on 
the corner looked as though it had seen its better days.

Things only looked worse as Doggett managed to steer into 
the single lane and cross Van Dam into the industrial park.  
As usual, it was like running a gauntlet trying to dodge 
the oncoming traffic as it jumped out from behind the 
tractor trailers jutting into the roadway.

He crossed the drawbridge, and then made the sharp 
right and quick left that brought him onto Pearson.  
Up on the right stood the NYPD Property Clerk Warehouse.  
Doggett shook his head.  Even this building looked as 
though it had been abandoned for years.  That is, if 
one ignored the half dozen police cars parked on the 
side of the road.

As Doggett pulled into an empty spot near the corner, 
he checked the time on the dashboard: 12:15.  He chuckled 
to himself, knowing that fifteen minutes in the city 
was practically on time, if not early.

Stepping out of his car, he pulled on his leather jacket 
and took a quick look at the rest of the block.  He was 
parked in front of a furniture repair and import/export 
business, but they looked like they were closed for the 
weekend.  Across the street was a trucking depot by the 
name of Public Service.  Trucks were coming in and out
on a fairly regular schedule.

On the same side of the block as the furniture business, 
the NYPD warehouse took up the rest of the right side of 
Pearson all the way down to Skillman.  Directly across 
from the warehouse was a business called J. Manheimer.  
From the look of the building, Doggett guessed that they 
had been operating for some time, and keeping the grounds
well groomed until recently.  The grass was beginning to 
get a little high in places, and there were signs of 
neglect around the visible entrances.

"Hey, Johnny!"

Doggett turned away from the Manheimer building, grinning 
as he saw Tommy step out from the loading dock for the 
warehouse.  As usual, Detective Thomas Egan was dressed 
picture perfect in his uniform, which appeared to be 
freshly pressed.  Doggett could not remember a time 
when Tommy had looked otherwise.

Doggett suddenly felt naked without his usual suit and 
tie.  He had changed out of the dirty jeans and T-shirt 
from the night before, but he could hardly wear his uniform 
while claiming to be on personal leave for a few days.  
He was wearing a clean button down blue shirt under his 
black leather jacket, and a fresh pair of denim jeans.  
The jacket was perfectly fitted to allow him to carry 
his weapon.

"Tommy!" he said, embracing the man with genuine joy.  
It had been quite a few years since he and Tommy had 
worked together on the force, but those years seemed 
to disappear in that moment.

"I can't believe you're standing here, Johnny.  I 
thought you had forgotten us, running around for the 
feds.  What, did you get homesick?"

"I heard you were stepping in all kinds of trouble up 
here, and thought you might need a real detective to 
figure it out," Doggett replied with a grin.

"Stepping in it is right," Tommy said, pointing to 
his boots.  "Brand new, and they feel like it too.  
Hurt like a mother, you know what I mean?"

"Oh, I remember," Doggett said, shaking his head.  
"They still make those things in prisons, you know."

"That would explain it."  Tommy slapped him on the 
shoulder, and gestured across the street.  "I know you 
said you were short on time, so let's get right to it.  
I called the owner earlier this morning, so he made 
sure his guy was waiting for us."

Doggett followed Tommy across the street.  "I noticed 
the name Manheimer when I got out of the car.  That, 
and the fact that the grounds look like they have been 
neglected for a week or two."

Tommy nodded, stopping when they came to the first 
available entrance.  "The company is called J. Manheimer.  
They were here for almost 30 years.  They expanded this 
building a couple times, in the back and off towards 
Public Service, but they just had nowhere else to go.  
So they moved to Jersey.  The last bunch left about t
wo weeks ago."

Doggett noticed that there was a residual odor coming 
from the entrance, which was marked for employees only.  
"What is that?  Orange?"

"Orange, lemon, lime, they were into it all," Tommy 
replied.  "They made flavors, like for food and soda 
and stuff like that.  For a while, they made perfumes 
out of here, too, but they moved that operation out 
of state five years ago."

"That's right," Doggett said.  "These guys were the 
ones who used to give out the knockoffs every Christmas."

"You got it."

"And this is the building where you found the body?"  
Doggett followed Tommy up the street to the main entrance.

"No," Tommy said.  He pointed to the end of the building.  
"This is Pearson that we're on now.  Up ahead, past the 
building, you have Davis Court.  It runs alongside the 
building, and then behind it, straight to Hunter's Point 
Avenue.  On the other side of Davis Court is a building 
with a lot of open warehouse space.  It's owned by a company 
called Allied Bronze, but Manheimer used to lease the 
space until recently."

"And it was in that warehouse that you found the body," 
Doggett reasoned.

Tommy stopped in front of the entrance, looking Doggett 
in the eye.  "That's the thing, Johnny.  What we found 
was not so much a body as what was left of a body."

"I remember you saying that on the phone on the way down,"
Doggett said quietly.  "And that's also the same place you 
found that strange green liquid."

"Yeah, the stuff that ate through my boots," Tommy said, 
his voice betraying a sudden lack of confidence.  "I'll 
tell you, Johnny, I've never seen anything like that.  
Sure, the body parts, we see that all the time.  But 
nothing's ever eaten my boots before."

Tommy shook his head, and then cracked a smile.  "But hey, 
it got your attention.  You'll have to explain that a 
little better when we get a bite later.  In the meantime-"

"In the meantime, this is your show," Doggett said, sharing 
the smile.  "I'm here in an unofficial capacity."  He 
gave Tommy a guarded look.  "Are you sure you want to 
do this?  We both know that this is against regs."

"The guys remember you from the old days, Johnny.  It 
won't be a problem for us.  Just don't go pulling rank 
on us, and it'll be fine."

***

Washington, DC

12:35 PM

"Sir, are you pulling rank on me?"

Scully scowled as Assistant Director Walter Skinner 
stood up to close the door to his office.  Once the door 
was closed, Skinner turned and faced Scully with a scowl 
of his own.

"Of course not, Agent Scully.  But I am warning you that 
this could get ugly if you are hiding something about 
Agent Doggett's intentions."

Scully sighed heavily.  "Sir, it is hardly a shock that 
Agent Doggett might want to spend a little personal time 
to sort out his feelings right now.  It's been months 
since we've had any lead on Mulder, and no matter how 
personally I...we...might take Mulder's disappearance, 
Doggett has his entire career on the line."

"I know," Skinner said with a grimace, as he slid into 
his chair.  "But Kersh is using Doggett as leverage, 
Agent Scully.  And while I have already come to terms 
with my own lack of a future in the Bureau, Kersh is 
doing everything possible to make sure I'm more than 
a little silenced."

Scully shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  "So you think
Kersh was placed deliberately in that position?  To make
sure that the X-Files is nothing more than a device to keep
Doggett out of the director's chair?"

Skinner shrugged.  "It's as likely as anything else I can
think of, and it fits Kersh like a glove."  Skinner suddenly
went still.  "Agent Scully.  Have you had lunch yet today?"

Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Sir?"

"Let's go to lunch."  Skinner stood, and then gestured 
around the room, shaking his head.  "This is not exactly 
official business, and I'm thinking that if your partner 
is on leave, you might like the company."

Scully understood at once, and cursed herself for being 
foolish.  How many times had Mulder's office been bugged, 
or her own apartment?  Skinner was right to be cautious, 
and they had let their guard down at the worst possible 
moment.  Would Kersh, or his secret allies outside of 
the Bureau, suspect that John was up to something?

Standing to follow Skinner out of the office, Scully 
hoped that was not the case.

***

Doggett followed Detective Egan into the Manheimer 
building, noting that there were very few lights still 
operating in the offices.  The lobby itself was lit, 
so while Tommy paged the owner's representative, Doggett 
took a look around the room.  The walls were covered 
with the shadows of pictures that had been removed, 
and from the looks of it, there had been quite a few.  
Doggett wondered if they were awards, or just pictures
of the management.

He turned as the door next to the lobby window opened.  
An older man, obviously neat retirement, flashed them 
a guarded smile.  He wore a thick flannel shirt and 
blue jeans, and carried a flashlight in his right hand.

"Mr. Londner, this is John Doggett," Tommy said formally.
"He's with the FBI, but off duty.  He's acting as a kind 
of consultant on the case."  Tommy turned to Doggett.  
"Johnny, this is Michael Londner.  We've known each 
other a few years now."

"Good to meet you," Doggett said, shaking the man's hand.
It was an oddly light grip, and Doggett suddenly wondered
if the man was ill.

"Likewise," Londner said curtly.  He looked to Tommy with
a concerned expression.  "FBI?"

"I'm in the city on personal leave," Doggett explained.
"Tommy told me about the case, and I offered my services."
He grinned, trying to put the man at ease.  "You know how
it is, once a cop, always a cop."

"Right," Londner said with a guarded tone.  "Shall we 
take the tour?"

Tommy nodded, and gestured for Doggett to follow him.  
They stepped through the doorway, which led them into 
a small hallway running along the front of the building.

"The office portion of the building is arranged roughly 
like a square," Londner explained as he led them to a 
large open area.  "The square sits behind this front 
portion of the office.  This used to be where the cubicles 
stood.  The computer office was in that corner."  He 
pointed behind them. Doggett observed that the computer 
room would have been in the corner of the building that 
sat at the intersection of Pearson and Davis Court.

"Watch that room," Londner said offhand.  "It has an 
automatic lock, and its own ventilation system which 
is no longer in operation."

They walked through the open space, which left them at 
an intersection between two hallways, one running ahead 
of them, and one running to the left.  Londner led them 
straight ahead.  "This was executive row.  This part of 
the building runs down the entire side of the building."

They passed a large board room, and then the wide hallway 
ended at a door.  A thin hallway led off to the left 
towards a stairway.  Doggett assumed it was a second 
floor, but there were no lights, except for the red glow 
of the fire exit signs.

Londner led them through the door, and there was another 
hallway leading to the left, and a small hallway leading 
ahead and then to the right.  "This is the other side of 
the square," Londner said quietly.  He turned on his 
flashlight, pointing it towards the small hallway.  "Back 
there is a stationary storage area, and an abandoned 
first aid room.  Stay out of the first aid room...there 
are no windows, and I don't have a key for the lock."

"Mind if I take a look?" Doggett said suddenly, pulling 
out his own slim flashlight.

Londner looked annoyed, but shrugged.  "Go ahead.  Nothing 
to see."

Tommy flashed Doggett a curious look as he walked by, but
followed Doggett into the small hallway and through the
door.  It opened into a dirty area that was very oddly
shaped.  It appeared that it was the back of the building,
but it was not a true corner like the computer area had
been.

Doggett noticed that there was a poorly constructed stair
leading to a storage area on the second floor.  "What's up
there?" he asked, turning back to Londner.

"We kept old retention samples up there," Londner said
carefully.  "Nothing but empty shelving now."

Doggett nodded, and noted the small room under the stair.
Empty boxes for stationary confirmed that it was a 
stationary room.  He stepped past that doorway, and 
the area opened slightly.  There was a door to the left, 
marked "No Exit".  A door opposite the entrance to the 
area led down a metal stairway.  A third door was marked 
"Exit 4", and a fourth door to the right was marked "First 
Aid".

"OK, there's your first aid room, and that must be a 
back door," Doggett said carefully.  "What are these 
other doors?"

"The door to the left, the one marked 'No Exit', goes to
an old lab," Londner answered.  "The other door leads to
the locker room."

"Why does it lead down like that?" Doggett asked.

"It's part of the addition on the back of the building,"
Tommy said, cutting off Londner.

Doggett nodded again, and then turned to Tommy.  "So let
me get this straight.  We had the lobby and the computer
room, which took up the front of the building from the
main entrance to the corner.  Then we had one side of the
office square.  Past that, we have this back area, and
apparently a lab to the one side.  And then, past that,
there was an addition?"

"That's right," Londner said.

Doggett gave Tommy a look.  "You got a map for this place,
Mr. Londner?"

"No," he said with a rueful smile.  "They're in the Jersey
office."

"Figures," Doggett muttered.  "All right, let's go back."

Londner led them back to the end of the executive row, and
then walked them down the hallway to the left.  "This runs
parallel to the lab at the back of the building.  There
is also a lab to the left."

He pushed open a door, and they walked into another wide
hallway.  "This part of the square runs alongside the
production area, which is just past these labs."  Londner
pointed to the right.  "That goes towards the back of
the building.  The entrance to the lab at the back of
the building is that way.  Also, a lunch room."  Londner
pointed to his left.  "This goes back towards the lobby."

Doggett nodded.  "So this is how it goes.  This hallway
has labs on the outside.  The front has the lobby and
the computer room on the outside edge.  The other side
has executive row on the outside, and the back hallway
has the first aid room, a lab, and the lunch room on
the outside."  Doggett smiled at Tommy.  "That's our
square."  He turned to Londner.  "What's on the inside?"

Londner pointed to a nearby door.  "It's a large lab,
which was used for QC.  Everything's out of it now,
but the glass shelving and some of the lab benches are
still in there."

Doggett turned to Londner.  "Is the rest of the building
this complicated?"

"No," Londner replied with a laugh.  "The production area
is mostly open."

"Let's see that," Doggett said.  He was sure that the
production area would prove to be more important, and he
was anxious to get to the warehouse where the body parts
had been found.

Londner led them down the hallway, and then opened a door.
Doggett saw another door, which led to the lobby, and to
the left was the start of executive row.  To the right,
a short hallway lead to a large door covered with warning
signs.

Londner gestured towards the large door.  "This way."

Doggett let Tommy take the lead, but stopped short when
he saw a glass door to one side.  There was no light
beyond the door, but using his flashlight, Doggett could
see the bottom of a stairway.  "Where does this go?"

"Second floor," Londner replied.  "It sits over the
lab hallway."

"What's up there?" Doggett asked, not sure why he was
interested.

"More labs," Londner said carefully.  "Another small lunch
room."  He shrugged.  "There's no power up there now, we
cut it when we closed the building.  And there's really not
much to see."

Doggett sighed, and then turned back towards the door to
the production area.  "All right.  Let's keep going."

Londner lead them through the doorway, and Doggett found
himself standing in a large warehouse.  Just ahead to the
right, the remains of a shallow dike clearly marked where
the production tanks had once stood.  The floor was marked
in a regular pattern with bolt holes, where the drum racks
had stood.

Ahead to the left, there was a small concrete bunker.
Londner seemed to notice the direction of Doggett's
gaze, because he quickly explained, "That was the old
production office.  That's where my office is now."

Doggett walked towards the office while Londner explained
its function.  Looking through the window facing the empty
warehouse, Doggett noticed that there was only one desk,
with a phone and a couple papers strewn over its surface.
Then he noticed something very different.

"Mr. Londner," he said, turning back towards the elderly
man.  "What happened to the walls and the floor in there?
It's some kind of dark yellow or something."

Tommy stepped behind him, looking in as well.  Londner
cleared his throat, and said quietly, "I'm not sure.
We think it had something to do with the citrus oils
that used to be blended nearby."

"But the outside of the office is still bright white,"
Tommy observed.  Doggett nodded his agreement.

"Seems a bit hard to believe, that it would stain the
inside of the office, but not the outside," Doggett
observed.  "But you're the one who worked here."  He
took a good look at the rest of the warehouse area.
"This is the main part of the original building, right?
So there's a part at the back that's an addition."

Londner pointed to the back wall, well past the dike.
"That's right.  We used to have our savory flavors and
distillations back there.  And the locker room, which
you saw part of earlier."  He pointed to a door past
the office bunker.  "That's the employee entrance,
and the boiler room."

Doggett sketched it all out in his mind.  He remembered
that the employee entrance was very close to the main
entrance, so the boiler room was next to the lobby.
The office "square" was beside the production warehouse.
And the back of the building was an addition.

"Tommy said there was another addition, not too long
ago," Doggett said.  "Where's that?"

Londner pointed to a couple of wide doorways cut into
the far wall, opposite the offices.  "This was the
production area, of course, so we built a new shipping
area."

Londner led them into the small addition.  Most of
the room was completely empty, with the exception of
a couple drums of flammable material scattered here 
and there.  Doggett noticed that one of them had what 
looked like Chinese written in ink down its side.

"You get a lot of foreign business, Mr. Londner?" he
asked, tracing his fingers down the writing.

"Oh, most of our raw materials are foreign," Londner
replied.  "A lot of the materials come from Indonesia,
India, or China.  Some of it even comes from South
America.  You'd be surprised what kind of ingredients
go into flavors for foods, Agent Doggett.  Most of
our raw materials are flammable, but some are corrosive,
even poisonous."

Doggett gave Tommy an amused smirk.  "Let's drop that
subject, Mr. Londner.  I'd like to be able to eat dinner
tonight without thinking about where it came from, if
it's the same to you."

Londner chuckled, and once again Doggett got the feeling
that the man was seriously ill.  The sound was clearly
weak.  He noticed Tommy's expression was also concerned,
and he made a note to ask Tommy about it later.

Doggett noticed that there was a small room built out of
part of the shipping area.  It was closed, with only a
thick roll-down door serving as an entrance.  The door
had a couple plastic windows, but they were covered from
the inside.

"What is that room for?" Doggett said, walking towards
the doorway.

Londner stepped in front of him, holding up a hand.
"I would prefer if you stayed out of that room.  We
still have some sensitive materials on site, which
require heat.  That room has been converted into a hot
room until we can create a similar area over in Jersey."

Doggett shrugged, and turned to Tommy.  "Fair enough.
Is there anything else you think I should see here, or
can we move on to the crime scene?"

"One last thing," Londner said as they walked back towards
his office.  "Under the shipping addition, there is a
parking garage."  He smiled.  "Unfortunately, because
it was built under the addition, you can't get to the
offices from the garage.  You can only access that area
from outside."

"That's a great design," Doggett joked.  "I bet it's a
real treat during a downpour."

Londner laughed in agreement, and then stepped into his
office.  Before closing his door, he said quickly, "Let
me call the owner of the warehouse out back.  We don't
have regular access anymore."

Doggett nodded, and waited a moment for the door to 
close.  Then he turned to Tommy and raised an eyebrow.  
"Tell me again, why you wanted me to get the tour of 
this building if the crime scene is in that other 
warehouse?"

Tommy seemed uncomfortable talking so close to the 
office door.  "I don't suspect Londner, if that's 
what you're asking.  But there are others who work 
for Manheimer, or used to work for them, who come to 
this building on a regular basis.  There are a lot of 
places where they could hide out in here.  I wanted 
you to see that for yourself."

Doggett accepted that, and changed the subject.  "You 
said you knew Londner for a while.  Has he always 
looked like that?  Sick, I mean?  The man looks like 
he can barely stand."

"No, that's new," Tommy admitted.  Now he looked even 
more uncomfortable.  "I can't even remember a time 
when he wasn't overweight.  Now look at him."

Tommy went quiet as the office door opened, and Londner
walked out.  "The owner, Herb Koenig, is going to meet
us outside the entrance.  Let's take the ramp out
to the back."

Londner led them across the length of the production
warehouse to a long ramp that led out of the back of
the building.  As they passed the top of the ramp, an
electric eye opened the metal gate that sealed off the
building at the end of the ramp.

Staring into the mid-afternoon breeze, Doggett felt a
chill run through him.  Too many nights, he had been
involved in chases through dark, deserted warehouses
in the city.  And too often, people had wound up killed
or wounded as a result.

Was it memory that unsettled him now, or some 
anticipation of what was to come?

***

Washington, DC

2:00 PM

Scully picked at the food on her plate.  Most of the meal
was still sitting there, but Scully had little appetite.
As if worrying about her partner was not enough, wondering
what Doggett had uncovered in New York, there was the
constant trace of nausea that she had never managed to
ignore.

"Is it that bad?" Skinner suddenly asked, as he tossed
his fork onto his now-empty plate.  Certainly his appetite
was healthy.

"You always hear about the morning sickness," Scully said
with a slight hint of amusement.  "What they fail to
mention is that you get it in the morning, in the afternoon,
in the evening, and pretty much all the time in between."

Skinner shook his head.  "That's something that most men
probably don't know."

"What I wonder is how a man can keep kissing a pregnant
woman," Scully said with a disgusted look on her face.
"We have to live with the aftertaste, but they ask for
it."

Skinner shrugged.  "That's not really my department, 
Dana."

Scully stared at Skinner for a moment, and then sighed.
"Yeah...I guess not."  She glanced down at her plate 
again, and pushed it away from her.  "I can't even look 
at it right now.  Can we get back to our other 
conversation?  I assume that this is a more secure 
location."  She resisted the urge to point out that 
there were dozens of civilians within earshot in the 
crowded restaurant.

"Well, there's always a chance that someone's listening,
Agent Scully, but I'd rather talk here than in my office
or one of our apartments."  Despite his words, he still
took the time to scour the faces nearby before continuing.

"All right, this is how it is.  You know that John was 
set in the fast track before he was assigned to the 
Mulder case.  And we know what kind of man Kersh is.  
He's not exactly the type to risk his hide on anything 
that might look bad on his record."

"I wonder if that has something to do with the way he
treated us," Scully said frankly.  "And maybe that's why
he's trying to derail Agent Doggett.  Mulder and I were
assigned to Kersh on purpose, to keep us off the X-Files
and under constant surveillance.  It only lasted a few
months, but when he failed, it had to have hurt Kersh's
career."

"And so when the time came, he knew the best way to 
hurt John's career," Skinner concluded.  "I see where 
you're going with this, Scully, but I'm not sure where 
that leaves us."

"I think you know where you stand," Scully reasoned.  
"He knew that you were helping us, and your defense 
of Mulder's point of view is only helping Kersh keep 
you out of his hair.  As you said, with Kersh occupying 
the Deputy Director's chair, your future is not exactly 
rosy."

Skinner grimaced.  "I know.  But I can't sit on the fence
anymore, Agent Scully.  I've seen too much.  I probably
always knew, on some level, but after seeing Mulder..."
He stopped, and then shook his head.  "I can't deny it
anymore."

"I know," Scully said softly.  "I've been there a thousand
times, over the years.  And I think that I resigned myself
to being on the X-Files until the day I leave the Bureau.
I just never thought that I would be the one to outlast
Mulder."

Skinner nodded, but there was concern in his eyes as well.
"I know, Dana, but we talked about this.  Our best chance
for finding Mulder is making use of Doggett while we have
him.  Kersh may think that this is some kind of punishment,
but Doggett has the right expertise in investigation to
follow whatever leads we can find."

"I know, I know," Scully muttered.  "But it weighs on me,
sir.  Doggett's a good partner, and I know it's the law
enforcement life, but it's like...it's like I see this
flash of light in the corner of my eye, and just for a
second, I think it's him.  And it's like that every day."

Scully turned away, forcing herself not to give in to 
tears.  "I just can't believe that this is happening.  
This isn't the way it was supposed to be."

Skinner let her sit quietly for a moment, and then said
softly, "Have you told Doggett?"

Scully let out a harsh laugh.  "Tell him what?  I can't
tell him I'm pregnant.  Then I'll be put on leave, and 
I'll have no say in what happens in the future.  And 
without me, how is Doggett going to survive on the X-Files?  
I'm the only one who understands what kind of line we're 
walking out there.  Except for you, and you have your 
own line to walk.

"And how can I tell him the rest, without him putting 
the pieces together?  He already has to suspect something, 
with all of the personal time that I've had to take.  
He almost said as much the night that he left."

Skinner ran his hands over his face, and then let out a
deep breath.  "I'm sorry that you have so much pressure
on you right now, Dana, but there is little that I can
do to prevent it.  I've kept your secrets this long, but
soon there's going to be nothing I can do to hide it.
And nothing you can do."

"Which means that we are running out of time," Scully
said bitterly.  "All of us."  She looked Skinner in
the eye, driving her point home.  "We need to find
something within the next few weeks, and cut through
whatever red tape Kersh is throwing up, before that
time comes."

"And that's why Doggett is in New York," Skinner said
suddenly.  "Isn't it?"

"We found something, or we think we have," Scully said
truthfully.  "But it's a long shot.  Something that the
guys found during a document search.  But it's all we
have."

Scully rose to her feet, looking at her watch.  "Thanks
for lunch, sir.  I'm sorry about how much I left."

"Don't mention it," Skinner said, also standing.  "You
have that appointment?"

Scully hesitated, and then nodded.  "Results from the
last battery of tests.  Maybe an answer about...about
those..."

"I understand, Agent Scully," Skinner said with perfect
empathy.  "Let me know when you find out, OK?  We'll
talk."  He glanced at her plate.  "Just not over dinner."

Scully smiled, flashing him a silent thanks.  Skinner
watched as she left the restaurant, and then caught the
waiter, gesturing for the check.

***

Long Island City, NY

2:15 PM

Herb Koenig was a tall man, but that was his only 
remarkable feature.  His face was completely generic, 
as was his typical Queens accent.  Doggett was sure 
that if he ever saw the man again on the street, he 
would have a very hard time recognizing him.

Tommy pulled the yellow police tape from the door, and 
then stepped away to allow Koenig to do his job.

"Herb, this is Detective Egan, Agent Doggett," Londner 
said as he greeted his friend.  "They want to take a 
look at the building."

"Of course," Koenig said carefully, giving Londner an 
odd look.  "But I thought that you..."

"Agent Doggett wants to see the crime scene for himself,"
Londner said as the door swung open.  "Apparently there 
are some oddities that he wants to look into."

Doggett noted the exchange, and held Tommy back as the 
older men walked into the warehouse.  "Shouldn't you have 
the key to this place?  The door was sealed.  This is 
a crime scene.  No one else should be able to get in 
here."

Tommy scratched at the back of his neck.  "There were 
some problems getting a key.  Apparently Koenig has some 
pull with the department.  They asked us to back off."

"Mighty irregular, Tommy," Doggett said as he turned 
towards the door.  "But I also noticed that Koenig 
expected Londner to have a key."

"I know.  He was supposed to, but he says he lost it," 
Tommy said with a sigh.

"Which is why you suspect someone else from Manheimer."
Doggett shook his head.  "I haven't even seen the crime
scene, and this is already giving me a bad feeling."

Tommy led him through the warehouse door.  Immediately 
Doggett was hit with the scent of human decay mixed 
with some other, completely unknown odor.  He turned 
to Tommy, and his friend simply nodded.  The smell was 
related to the crime scene.

"Mr. Londner," Doggett called out, as he saw the man 
standing in the middle of the room.  "What is that 
smell?  Something of yours?"

"No," Londner said firmly.  "We had some spice blends, 
but nothing so bad as this."

"It smells like bile," Tommy said suddenly.  He turned 
to Doggett.  "Johnny, that's what I think it smells 
like."

Doggett shook his head.  "No.  It's close, but that's 
not it.  At least, I don't think it is."  He looked 
around the expanse of the warehouse.  The building 
was very old, and there was a flaking coat of pale 
green paint covering every surface.  The uneven ceiling 
was held up by an arrangement of thick concrete columns.  
In between the columns, the floor had settled, leaving 
the foundation for the columns a good five inches above 
the floor.

But there was no sign of the crime scene.  "Where did 
you find the body?" he asked, looking to Tommy.

"In the storage room," Tommy replied, gesturing around 
the corner.  "There are no lights in there, so we'll 
need the flashlights."

Doggett slipped his out of his pocket, and followed 
Tommy to the entrance for the storage room, which was 
next to the restroom.  The smell of decay and bile 
became much stronger as they walked through the brick 
opening, and Doggett noted that the floor was marked 
off.  The four men carefully stayed outside of the 
marked area.

"Ok, Johnny, this is where we found the body parts," 
Tommy said, pointing towards the entrance.  "Just about 
where the light from the warehouse windows is cut off.  
The green stuff was back further."

Doggett moved the beam of his flashlight over that 
stretch of the floor.  The concrete was stained a dark 
green, and the surface was obviously pitted and eaten 
away.  The pattern of the stain did not seem to fit the 
placement of the body parts.

"What exactly did you find here?" Doggett asked, covering 
his nose with his free hand.

"Two partial hands, and what the coroner says is the 
top of a scalp."

Doggett nodded.  "So what we are looking at is a body 
that apparently melted, with the exception of..."  
Doggett thought about the position of the body parts, 
and something clicked in his mind.  "Tommy, did the 
coroner give an estimate for the time of death?"

"Yeah.  About this time."

Doggett nodded.  "Was it about this kind of weather 
yesterday?"

Tommy shrugged.  "I suppose it was.  Why?"

Doggett pointed to the demarcation between the light 
and shadow on the floor.  "You said that the hands, 
and the top of the head, were sitting about where the 
light is hitting the floor.  And there are no lights 
in here, besides what comes in from the warehouse."

Tommy swore.  "You think that has something to do 
with it?"

"Maybe."  Doggett took another look at the pattern 
etched into the floor.  "You notice that?  See how the 
stain seems to splatter outward?  I think that whatever 
ate through the floor, whatever wound up on your boots, 
exploded out of the victim."

"What the hell could do such a thing?"  Koenig said, 
his face completely pale.  Londner's reaction was hard 
to determine, given his state of health.

"Jesus, Johnny, are we talking about some kind of bug?  
Do we need to call in the CDC or a HazMat team?"

"Tommy, have any of your men showed any signs of sickness?
Any of them miss a shift?"  Doggett grabbed Tommy's arm
tightly.

"No, no, I don't think so," Tommy said, struggling to 
remember.  "Let me call in and find out."  Tommy stepped 
out of the room to contact his dispatch.

Doggett took another look at the stain on the floor.  
The pattern was definitely indicating some kind of 
explosive episode, unleashing the acidic liquid onto 
the floor.  The victim was also obviously already on 
the floor by that point, probably attempting to escape.

Doggett shook his head.  There had to be more.  If 
this was related to the incident in Arizona, then he 
was going to have to find more than the effect of some 
green goo on concrete.  To find Mulder, he was going 
to have to find out who or what was responsible for 
this death.

Tommy walked back into the storage room.  "Everyone's 
accounted for, Johnny.  I put out a warning that anyone 
who feels sick, even just a sneeze, ought to get checked 
out as soon as possible and let someone at the station 
know."

"Good call," Doggett said, as he began moving his beam
along the walls.  "Tommy, if this stuff did explode out 
of the victim, violently...did you ever find any of it 
on the walls?  There, you see that?  The walls have some 
evidence of pitting too."

Tommy nodded.  "Yeah, we saw some of that on the walls 
around the entrance."

"There's a little back here, too," Doggett said, 
standing to get a better look.  "Wait a second...what 
the hell is this?"

The beam of his flashlight was fixed on something 
faintly carved into the concrete floor, farther into 
the storage area, away from the entrance.  As Doggett 
knelt down, Tommy joined him.  Koenig and Londner stood 
close to the entrance, as if ready to bolt at the 
slightest hint of danger.

"It looks like something slid over this concrete, and 
ate away at it along the way," Doggett said.  He 
traced the wide markings back towards the area where 
the victim was found, and then followed it towards the 
back of the room.  He stood slightly, following the 
tracks, until he came to the wall.  "There's a gap 
between the wall and the floor here.  Probably from 
the settling of the building, same as the columns.  
And whatever this was, I think it got out here."

"Got out?" Koenig said.  "You mean whatever killed 
that man is in the city?"

"I don't know, but it looks that way."  Doggett turned 
to Tommy, who was almost as pale as Koenig.  "What 
was the weather like last night?  Cloudy?"

"Yeah, you couldn't even see the moon," Tommy answered, 
his voice low with fear.

"Not much light, then," Doggett concluded.  He shone 
his flashlight on the gap in the wall again, and 
then nodded to himself.  "Let's take a look outside, 
and see what we can find."

As he walked past the entrance, he turned to Koenig.  
"Can we have that key?  We may need to get in here 
again."

"Of course," Koenig said.  The man was obviously more 
than ready to divorce himself of the entire situation.

"Thanks," Doggett said, passing the key to Tommy as the
detective walked by.  "Mr. Londner, thanks for your time.
I assume you will be around for the rest of the day?"

Londner nodded.  "Let me know if you need anything more."

"Actually, why don't you stick around for the next couple
days," Doggett said absently.  "Just in case.  I'm sure
the owners won't mind if you work out of this location."

Londner looked reluctant, and then nodded his assent.
"Of course."

"Thanks."  Doggett stepped through the entrance, and
turned to his old friend.  Tommy looked a bit spooked,
but otherwise ready to continue.  "Come on, Tommy.  
Let's see if whatever this thing is left us some 
tracks to follow."

***

Washington, DC

3:00 PM

Scully sat in her car, the dark brown envelope resting
against the steering wheel between her trembling hands.
If she had been aware of the world around her, she would
have realized that she had been sitting in the parking
lot for nearly fifteen minutes.  But that was the last
thing on her mind.

They were still there.

Her doctor had been unavailable, and so Scully had asked
for the results to be sent to a nearby office along with
the written reports.  It was unconventional, true, but
absolutely necessary given the circumstances.

Only now Scully found herself wishing that she had
someone to talk to, someone to explain to her exactly
what her options were.  It was one thing to know it
medically, or to read it on a dispassionate piece of
white paper.  Scully wanted someone human, someone
with compassion, to explain it to her.

When she had gone into the hospital, just a few
weeks ago, they had shown her the results of the
ultrasound as it had been conducted.  That was when
the unknown growths had first been diagnosed.  At
the time, the doctors assured her that they were
nothing more than cysts, something perfectly normal
for a woman at her stage of pregnancy.  Only they
were much larger than normal, and on both ovaries.
The doctors explained that they almost always
dissolved in a short time, and her dehydrated state
had simply led to a slight infection and acute
abdominal pain.  Given time, they should go away.

There were still there.

Her latest ultrasound confirmed it.  They were still
about ten inches in diameter.  And now, because of
how far she had come in her pregnancy, it was too
dangerous to operate.  They would either dissolve,
or in time, they could very well be fatal to either
the baby or herself.

The envelope slipped from her fingers as she brought
her hands to her face, hiding the tears that had
started flowing before she could contain them.  How
many times had she hoped, no, prayed for a child of
her own?  And now, after all that she had been through,
after discovering that she was barren, to finally have
that child, only to face losing it...

She needed someone to help her deal with this.  Her
first thought went to her mother, but that was not
an option at the moment.  Her brother was visiting,
and that would only lead to something she would much
rather avoid.

There was Skinner, but how could she explain this to
him, and expect him to truly understand what she was
going through?  The fact that he had chosen to act
as her confidant did not mean that he was fully ready
or capable of the task.

It went without saying that she was not going to turn
to Doggett or the Gunmen for comfort.

No.  She knew who she needed to find, the only one who
understand what she was dealing with.  Maybe he wouldn't
understand perfectly, but he would know how to deal with
it, how to calm her fears and make everything bearable.
But there was just one problem, the one little detail
that made her eyes well up with fresh tears, and her
chest heave with crushing sobs.

He was not there.

***

Long Island City, NY

3:05 PM

As Doggett followed Tommy out of the warehouse, he 
grabbed his arm lightly, to let him know he needed to
talk with him.  Tommy understood, and waited under
Londner had gone back into the Manheimer building.

"Tommy, I just wanted to make sure you understood,
I'm not trying to take over your case here."  Doggett
gestured to his choice of clothing.  "I'm not in
uniform here.  I'm just here to give you a hand."

Tommy nodded.  "I get it, Johnny, but I don't mind
if you take a shot at this.  Besides, this is more
up your alley these days, anyway."

Doggett gave him a guarded look.  "What's that supposed
to mean?"

"Come on, Johnny, word gets around," Tommy said with
a laugh.  "We heard when you were looking to take over
the place down in DC, and we heard when the bottom fell
out from under you.  You're working on the cases with
the little green men, right?"

Doggett shook his head.  "It's not quite like that.
My main objective is to find a fellow agent who's
gone missing.  Some say he was abducted...by little
green men.  I'm a bit less convinced, let's put it 
that way.  In the meantime, I work on the cases that
the agent in question would have been on."

"And he was the one looking for little green men?"

Doggett snorted a laugh.  "Yeah, that's right."

Tommy shrugged.  "And that's why when you called, I
thought you might be the perfect man to help out with
this case.  Although I had hoped you would be helping
out in an official capacity."

"I have my reasons, Tommy," Doggett said defensively.
"Look, I'll explain over a cold one later, when your
shift is done.  In the meantime, let's see what we
can find."

Doggett searched the outside of the building, close
to the foundation, until he found something that
looked like the spot he was looking for.  He waved
Tommy over, pointing to the disturbed soil.

"Look at this," Doggett said as he bent down closer
to the dirt.

"Looks like hundreds of worms came out of the wall,
and tunneled through the dirt all at the same time,"
Tommy said as he joined Doggett.  "Maybe thousands
of them."

"And they left some sort of residue in the soil,"
Doggett said, his expression betraying more than
a little nervousness.  "Green, like the stain in
the concrete, and in the tracks."  He looked up
from the beginning of the trail, trying to
figure out how far the creatures might have gone.

The soil was disturbed in a straight line along
the edge of the building.  Doggett lost the trail
when it came to a couple of parked trucks and a
trailer, sitting near the end of the warehouse.
Doggett looked more closely, and noticed that the
windows the trucks and the trailer were covered
with cardboard from the inside.

"What's the story there?" Doggett said, standing
as he tapped Tommy on the shoulder and pointed
to the trailer.

"Oh, that's Gerry," Tommy said with a grin.  "The
neighborhood shut-in.  He lives out of the trailer
with a couple of dogs.  Keeps to himself, mostly.
I think he works at the body shop on Skillman."

Doggett pointed to the trail.  "This goes right
to his trailer, Tommy."

Tommy's eyes went wide, and then he cursed to
himself.  "I should have thought of that.  We
should check him out."

Tommy ran ahead while Doggett followed the trail,
looking for any type of evidence that could help
explain what was happening.  Obviously, this was
turning out to be very different than he what he
remembered in the hospital in Arizona, but he
knew enough to reserve judgment until he could
send something to Agent Scully for analysis.  She
was the one who had first mentioned that "alien
bounty hunter", after all.

He looked up when Tommy suddenly cried out.  His
friend was pointing at something slumped over in
the weeds behind one of the trucks, his hand over
his mouth.  Even when Doggett managed to carefully
make his way to the same spot, it took him a moment
to recognize what he was looking at.

"That was one of the dogs," Tommy said, recovering.
"Or what's left of it."

Doggett knelt down, taking great care not to touch
anything.  There was very little of the dog left
to examine.  Besides a couple of strips of furry
flesh and bone, there was nothing more than the
evidence of an explosive discharge similar to the
one discovered in the warehouse.  It was smaller,
of course, but more complete.

"Not much left," Doggett said, vocalizing that
observation.  "Must have happened overnight."  He
looked up at Tommy.  "No light, no body parts."

Doggett looked more closely, and noticed that there
was a small trail similar to the larger one leading
from the building.  It led under the trailer, towards
one of the wheels.

"Tommy," he said softly.  "We need to check that
trailer."  Before his friend could take another step,
he shook his head.  "Not us.  Call in some kind of
HazMat support.  Get a couple guys with suits in there."

Tommy started calling in the request, while Doggett
took a closer look at the remains of the dog.  He
noticed something else, and waved his hand to get
Tommy's attention.

"Tell them that we'll need someone to take some
soil samples, too," Doggett said, pointing to the
dirt under the trailer.  "We need to know what that
residue is."

Tommy nodded, and he quickly received a response from
the dispatch.  "They're sending them over now."

"Good," Doggett said, stepping away from the remains.
"We'll want this area sealed off once they arrive.
No press, Tommy, that's a given.  I'd think that we
should keep Pearson and Davis cordoned off."

"Johnny, is this like anything you've seen before?"
Tommy asked, clearly shaken.

"Like on the X-Files?" Doggett asked.  He shook his
head.  "No, it's not.  And that's saying something."
He sighed, running one hand over his sweating face.
"Now that we have some kind of direction on this,
I need to ask you a favor."

"Whatever you need, it's yours," Tommy replied.

"Let me ask it first," Doggett insisted.  "My
partner is a top-notch medical expert.  She's one
of the best, and her time on the X-Files has given
her...well, let's just say it's given her a wide
range of perspective on this kind of thing.

"I'd like to get her involved, but not locally.
I think we should send a soil sample, a sample
of that green fluid, the body parts, even your
shoes, and get her take on all this."

Tommy hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.
"I think I can do that.  It might take some doing
on this end, with the local coroner, but I'll make
sure it's all delivered ASAP."

"Thanks, Tommy," Doggett said with a relieved smile.
"She'll need copies of the coroner's report and the
results of any analysis you've already done."

"We should be getting an ID on the victim soon,"
Tommy added.  "I'll see that she gets a copy."

Doggett turned back to the trailer, and then took
another look at the warehouse.  "I'm not sure, but
I think we're dealing with some kind of insect, not
an infection or contagion.  The worms seem to suggest
that there is a physical basis for the cause of death."
Doggett shook his head.

"Something's not adding up.  There's something we're
missing."

Tommy shrugged.  "Maybe there will be something in
the trailer that will clear this up, Johnny.  Or
something your partner might tell us."

"Maybe."  Doggett looked up at the slowly waning
sun.  "But I get the feeling we better find out soon."

***

Washington, DC

4:32 PM

It had been over an hour since she had returned to her
apartment, but she found herself staring into space
until the blaring ring of the phone forced her out of
her shocked contemplation.  And yet, she let it ring,
preferring to screen the call rather than answer it
herself.

Moments later, she heard a familiar voice ring out
from the answering machine.  "Agent Scully?  Are you
there?  This is Agent Doggett.  Pick up if you're
listening."

Wearily, hesitating just a moment, she reached over
her shoulder from her couch and licked up the phone,
slapping the answering machine off along the way.

"I'm here, Agent Doggett."  Her voice was low and
raspy, and she wondered whether John would notice.

"Oh, good, I caught you."  There was a pregnant pause.
"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, just...I'm fine," Scully said, closing her eyes
and forcing some semblance of control to enter her voice.

"Want to talk about it?"  As usual, Doggett was not the
kind of person who would let someone suffer in silence.

"No, it's nothing, it's..."

"Personal business," Doggett finished for her.

Damn the man!  "Agent Doggett, was there something you
wanted to tell me?"  For a moment, she let herself feel
a thrill of hope.  "Something about Mulder?"

"I'm not sure what I found," Doggett replied, his usual
frustration with the unusual betrayed in his tone of
voice.

"Well, start from the beginning, Agent Doggett," Scully
said with a mute sigh.  It wouldn't do to let him hear
her own impatience.

Still, he hesitated just a second, letting her know 
that he was well aware of her present attitude.  "I 
took a look at the crime scene, and it's as advertised.  
An unidentified victim seems to have exploded, releasing 
an unknown amount of green liquid with acidic properties.  
It ate through the concrete floor of the warehouse, 
and Tommy's shoes."

"Exploded?" Scully said.  That was different from the 
other cases, she thought with dread, but very close 
to another facet of the whole alien experience.

"Yeah, the entire body, with the exception of both 
hands and a portion of scalp," Doggett explained further.  
"I'm having those items sent to you, along with the 
coroner  reports from this end.  I thought you'd want 
to take a look for yourself."

"Yes, I would," Scully replied, but she was thinking 
of something else.  The alien bounty hunters always 
died like the alien/human clones had died.  The entire 
body would melt into an acidic puddle of evaporating 
green liquid.  On the other hand, Mulder had also 
mentioned that there was an alien virus that seemed 
to infect human hosts and cause them to create an 
alien being, which would explode out of the host.

Was this related?  Or was it something entirely new?

"Agent Scully, did you catch that?"

Scully forced herself to pay attention.  "Sorry, I was
thinking about what you already told me.  Can you repeat
that last part?"

"I said that something like worms left a trail leaving
the victim and leading outside."

Scully completely froze.  Worms.  That sounded very
familiar.  "Did you see these worms?"

"No," Doggett said calmly.  He seemed to hesitate again.
"They left some kind of residue in the soil as they
traveled.  I'm sending that, along with some residue from
a dog that was also infected and had a similar reaction
along with the victim."

Scully nodded to herself.  "So there were body parts 
left when the dog exploded?"

"No.  Light seems to play some kind of role in the 
reaction to the infection.  The dog was in total darkness, 
so nothing was left.  The victim died at a time when 
the light coming from the outside left his hands and 
the top of his head exposed to the sunlight."

Scully quickly ran some facts through her head.  What 
had Mulder told her years ago?  Heat had something to 
do with the reaction to the alien virus.  Could the heat 
from light, specifically sunlight, have the same effect?  
But then, why would the body parts have been left in the 
sunlight, instead of the other way around?

"Do you know how the dog was infected?" Scully asked.

"I think it was the worms," Doggett replied.  "The trail
led right to the dog remains, and then under a trailer.
It's locked, but there may be an occupant inside.  We 
called a HazMat team in.  They're going to open it up 
and see what's inside."  There was a pause, and then 
a heavy sigh.  "I hope they get here before nightfall."

"Whatever they find, send me a sample," Scully offered.
"This doesn't sound like the same thing we had in 
Arizona, or at other times with the same situation, 
but a closer look might prove me wrong."

"I hope so," Doggett said, and Scully knew he was being
completely honest.  He really did want to find Mulder, 
even if it was just for his own promise to do so.  Once 
again, Scully found herself glad that John was her 
partner during this difficult time.

"I'm going to get some rest, and then I have to talk 
to Skinner about something," Scully said after a pause.  
"I should be able to get working on the forensics 
soon after they arrive."

"I'd appreciate it," Doggett replied.  He paused again, 
and then added, "Take care of yourself, Agent Scully.  
You sound like you need it."

It was his own way of telling her, without coming 
right out and saying it, that he knew something 
was truly bothering her.

"I will," she said quickly.  "I'll call you when I 
have some results."

She disconnected, and then sat, holding the phone for 
a moment.  Whatever John had found, there was still 
a chance that it was related to Mulder, still a chance 
they might find him.  And at this point, a chance was 
all she was asking for.

***

Long Island City, NY

5:57 PM

Under Tommy's advisement, Doggett had taken a room at 
the Greenpoint, not far from the warehouse, in order 
to freshen up and prepare for the night ahead.  The 
place was hardly what one would call a good hotel, but 
it was good enough for the night.  Hopefully, he would 
be able to find something better in the morning.

A pot of cheap instant coffee was brewing on the small 
table by the grimy window as Doggett tossed his leather 
jacket onto the bed.  He pulled off his shoulder holster 
and placed his weapon carefully on the table by the mirror, 
and quickly took off his shirt.  He wished he had time 
for a shower, to get rid of the thin layer of sweat 
that had left him feeling less than fresh, but Tommy 
would be coming by any moment.  Best to simply prepare 
and wait for the call from the HazMat boys.

Tommy's precinct had taken the initiative to cordon 
off the two roads leading directly to the site of the 
trailer, giving them a few hours while the HazMat team 
evaluated the residue in the soil.  It was taking longer 
than he thought it should, based on his former experience, 
but that was life in the city.  Nothing could be taken 
for granted.

Doggett finally decided to run some water onto the 
washcloth in the bathroom, just to take the edge off.  
A moment later, he was back in front of the mirror, 
wiping the cloth down his bare chest, his eyes lingering 
on the scars tracing here and there across the sweaty 
flesh.

Most of those scars were from his time in the USMC, or 
from Lebanon, and most of the rest were from his time 
working with the NYPD.  The more recent ones, the ones 
with the decidedly weirdest memories attached to them, 
were from his time on the X-Files.  But even so, there 
were a few that held an even deeper meaning.

The rag fell to the floor with a wet slap as he reached 
for his wallet.  Pulling it open, he slid the familiar 
picture out from its hiding place.  How long had it been 
now?  Even now he could tell himself the exact number 
of years, months, even days.  And as always, the picture 
brought his resolve in perfect focus.

With a heavy sigh, he slid the picture of the young 
boy back into its place.  He allowed himself just one 
last moment of reflection, as his fingers traced along 
one particular scar, to remember.  And then, just as 
suddenly, he reached down and resumed rubbing the wet 
cloth across his chest.

He was pulling the thin gray muscle shirt over his 
head when he heard someone knock on the door.  He glanced 
at his weapon for a split second, and then smiled to 
himself as he went directly to the door.  "That you, 
Tommy?"

"Who else?" Tommy said, with slight impatience.

Doggett pulled the door open with a grin.  "In this part 
of town, anyone."

Tommy walked in quickly and tossed a Kevlar vest onto 
the bed.  "Compliments of the force, Johnny."  He gave 
Doggett a playful look.  "I think you're the same size.  
It's only been five years or so."

"More like ten," Doggett replied with a wider grin, 
closing the door.  He pointed to the coffee.  "Want 
some?"

Tommy went right to the pot.  "After today, I think I 
could use it."  Doggett noticed that Tommy's hands 
were shaking as he poured the hot coffee into a cup.  
"I hope your partner can explain this one, Johhny, 
because I am at a complete loss."

"She should be getting everything in a couple hours," 
Doggett said, as he took the cup that Tommy offered.  
"She'll let us know what she finds."

Tommy seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment, 
savoring what little he could appreciate in the horrible 
coffee, when he suddenly looked Doggett in the eye.  
"All right, Johnny.  I've waited all day to ask you 
this, and now seems like the only time we're going to 
have before we're dealing with whatever is in that
trailer.

"Why are you doing this off the record?  Why not 
officially?"

Doggett sighed heavily, and sat down on the edge of 
the bed.  "It's a long story, Tommy.  But it comes 
down to the fact that a superior officer in the Bureau 
decided I was some kind of threat to his authority.  He 
thought I might rise to his level, maybe take his place 
sometime soon.  At any rate, he set me up with a case 
I could never solve."

"That missing agent?" Tommy asked, remembering what 
Doggett had said earlier.

"Yeah," Doggett agreed.  "At first, I thought that 
it had something to do with my time here as a detective.  
I had a lot of experience with manhunts.  Or something 
similar, anyway.  But when everything came down, there 
were no answers.  And I still have no idea where to 
find this guy."

Tommy regarded Doggett closely.  "You mean, they knew 
you wouldn't find him?"

Doggett shrugged.  "I don't know.  Agent Scully, that's 
my partner...she thinks so.  And the assistant director, 
he says the same thing.  Only they think that the agent 
was abducted by aliens, so that might have something 
to do with their opinion."

Doggett shook his head, running a hand through his hair.  
"I promised that I would find him, Tommy.  It's not 
just about the job anymore.  But I can't help thinking 
that if I can find him, and finish this mess, I can get 
back on track.  Get off the X-Files and back where I 
belong."

Tommy considered that, and shook his head.  "It's a 
mess, Johnny.  And I guess, looking at it that way, 
I can see why you wanted to keep this quiet.  You think 
this might have something to do with the agent you're 
looking for.  And you don't want the wrong people to 
find out."

"I did, but Agent Scully will be able to tell me for 
sure," Doggett answered.  "She's the one that knows 
what we would find if it were related to what we've 
seen before on this case."

Tommy laughed.  "If she's that good, what is she doing
working cases on little green men?"

Doggett replied in an even tone.  "We ask ourselves that
question all the time.  And we still don't know the 
answer."

***

7:12 PM

Despite the chill in the air, Doggett had chosen to 
leave his leather jacket at the hotel.  He had been struck 
with the feeling that very soon, he would be glad to be 
stripped down to the bare essentials.  In this case, 
that meant his Kevlar vest and his weapon.

Two men in HazMat suits were standing by the trailer, 
bright lights shining on the entire area at Doggett's 
insistence.  Maybe it was that same feeling, but he 
wanted to be sure that there was a strong source of 
light available, just in case.

"You ready?" he heard Tommy ask as he passed by, taking 
a few steps back and drawing his weapon.

Doggett drew his own weapon and nodded.  "Tell the boys to
open it up."  Tommy gave them the signal, and with a slow, 
methodical motion, the HazMat team opened the trailer door.
There was no initial response.  Tommy moved to step closer,
but Doggett waved him back.  It was too soon, and Doggett
wanted some signal that it was all clear before he would
let anyone get close to that trailer.

"We have something," he heard suddenly, as one of the men
pointed towards the inside of the trailer.  "A patch of
green material, pretty large."

The other man seemed to lean forward into the trailer, 
as if trying to get a better look.  "I hear something," 
he said, leaning in farther.  "What the hell is that?"

"Some kind of low level hum," the first man added.  He
turned towards Doggett and pointed into the trailer.  
"The patch of green liquid is about the size of a human 
body.  No body parts remaining.  And no worms or signs 
of anything leaving the area of the green stuff."

"That noise is getting louder," the second man said, 
edging  his flashlight deeper into the trailer.  "Almost 
like some kind of-"

Abruptly, the second man lurched back as something 
swooped down out of the end of the trailer and planted 
itself into the center of his chest.  The sound of 
rapidly beating insect wings filled the air.  The 
second man knocked the first man to the ground, leaving 
the view fully exposed for Doggett, Tommy, and the rest 
of the officers on the scene.

Doggett's first impression was that it looked like a 
giant mosquito, but then he realized that it was more 
like a cross between a mosquito and a wasp.  Instead 
of a needle-like protrusion, the thin insect carried 
a huge lancet at the end of a fully articulated thorax.

Before anyone could react, it plunged the lancet directly 
into the second man's stomach, and then rose into the air, 
landing on the side of the trailer, as if readying itself 
for another attack.  Doggett's fingers were pulsing on 
the trigger of his drawn weapon before he was consciously 
aware of his actions.  The other officers apparently 
had the same instinct, because within seconds, the insect 
was torn apart as the bullets ripped through its fragile 
carapace.  Green liquid sprayed along the side of the 
trailer and onto the dirt below.

Doggett was the first to recover, but not before the 
injured man jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with panic.

"It burns!  It burns!" the man screamed, grabbing at 
his midsection with his heavily gloved hands.  Then he 
covered his eyes, as if trying to shield himself from 
the bright lights surrounding the task force.

Doggett noticed his reaction, and formed a quick theory.  
"No!  Don't cover the wound!"

"It burns!"  The wounded man let out a strangled scream, 
and suddenly lept behind the trailer, running for 
the darkened warehouse.

"Damn it!" Doggett cursed.  He pointed to the uninjured 
HazMat man.  Green fluid from the remains of the unknown 
insect sizzled on the surface of the protective suit.  
"Someone get that man out of the suit, and make sure 
he's kept under strong lights until you're sure he's 
not infected.  The rest, follow me!  We have to get 
that man back out into the light before it's too late...
and that warehouse is completely dark!"

Doggett and Tommy ran towards the infected man, who 
was now pounding with inhuman strength at the door 
to the warehouse.  Just as they were about to grab 
him, the door caved in, and the infected officer ran 
screaming into the thick shadows of the warehouse.

Doggett pulled out his flashlight, suddenly aware of 
just how small it was compared to what they would need.  
He took a quick sweep of the area just inside of the 
doorway, and shook his head.  "He kept running into 
the back of this place."  He turned to the other 
officers as they caught up.  "We need to fan out as 
quickly as possible and find this man.  They may be 
a few areas where the lights outside are shining into 
the building through the windows.  As soon as you can, 
try to pull the officer into the nearest patch of 
bright light."

"Should we pull him out of the suit?" Tommy asked, 
as the officers began running into the warehouse, 
one by one.

Doggett shook his head.  "I wouldn't.  Chances are, 
this man is already beyond help.  But if he explodes, 
like those other victims, we know that liquid is like 
acid.  That suit ought to keep it contained."  The 
last officer ran by, and Doggett gestured for Tommy 
to follow him.  "Let's hope I'm wrong."

By the time Doggett managed to squeeze through the 
shattered doorway, most of the other officers had 
already spread out within the expanse of the warehouse.  
Thin beams of light marked the progress of each officer 
as they appeared and disappeared among the thick 
concrete columns.  All of it was accompanied by the 
background noise of the HazMat officer screaming 
somewhere in the darkness.

"Tommy," Doggett called out, and one of the shadows 
turned towards him, the beam of his flashlight pointing 
at his feet.

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"What's this man's name?"

Tommy paused for a moment.  "Frank Ciccone."

Doggett thanked Tommy for the information, and then 
ran into the darkness, letting his eyes adjust to the 
lack of light along the way.  Most of the officers had 
split up into three groups, each group taking a section 
of the warehouse and checking every corner.  The 
emptiness of the warehouse made it impossible to 
determine where the man had hidden himself.  Regardless, 
the volume of the screaming had elevated to the point 
that Doggett was sure that they were running out of 
time.

Doggett found himself standing near the center of the 
empty warehouse, with nothing more than a few faint 
shafts of light piercing the darkness around him.  
The screaming had suddenly descended into a series 
of sharp cries.  If Ciccone was going to be saved, 
now was the time.

Doggett walked towards one of the nearby columns, 
listening very closely to the way that the sound 
carried in the room.  It occurred to him that the 
first victim had intentionally hidden in the darkest 
space possible.  The fact that anything remained of 
the body was likely a matter of chance...the way that 
the victim fell when he lost consciousness.

Doggett looked around, trying to determine the darkest 
part of the building.  He had seen Tommy checking the 
room where the first victim had been discovered, so 
that was no longer an option.  The rest of the building 
was dark, but open.  The officers should have found 
Ciccone by now.

Scanning the center of the building, he realized that 
there was a wall separating the two halves of the 
warehouse.  And right in the center of that wall was 
a small maintenance area.  It had no ceiling, but it 
was thin and small enough that it was easily missed.

Doggett ran towards the shack, and noticed that the 
door was already open.  Lifting his weapon, he scanned 
the inside of the shack with the beam of his flashlight.  
"Officer Ciccone?  You in there?"

There was no answer, but he wasn't expecting one.  He 
crept into the room, watching for any sudden movement 
in the darkness, his weapon ready for anything that 
might come from an unexpected direction.  For that matter, 
after seeing what had been hiding in the trailer, he 
was no longer positive that they were still looking for 
a man.

But then he caught something as his flashlight hit 
something in the far corner.  It was Ciccone's protective 
suit, but it was crumpled at an odd angle along the floor.  
As he took a few steps closer, he noticed that there was 
no movement.

"I've got him, in the maintenance shack!" Doggett called,
hoping that his voice would be easier to follow that the
screaming had been.  "There's no movement."  As the first
officer ran into the shack, Doggett turned and pointed to
his radio.  "Tell the HazMat team that this man, alive or
dead, needs to be sent directly to an Agent Scully in DC."

The officer hesitated.  "Shouldn't we call the CDC or-"

"Just do it," Doggett snapped back.  He knew it would 
end his ruse and bring Kersh down on his neck faster 
than that killer insect, but at this point, there was 
nothing to be done.  By now, Scully had to have figured 
out that this was very different than the situation in 
Arizona, and a far cry from finding Mulder.

As the other officer left the shack to make the 
arrangements, Tommy ran to Doggett's side.  "Is Ciccone 
alive?"

Doggett brought the flashlight up to the faceplate, 
and was shocked to find that the man was still breathing 
and aware.  He turned to Tommy and nodded, and then 
approached Ciccone cautiously.

"Officer Ciccone, can you speak?"  Doggett asked.  
The man barely moved, and Doggett was unable to tell 
what the movementof the man's head was supposed to 
indicate.  But then he heard a soft rasping, and 
listened carefully.

"Kill me," Ciccone said, his eyes going wide.  
"Please..."

The man's jaw trembled, and at first Doggett thought 
that Ciccone was biting back the pain.  But then he 
noticed the movement just under the skin, and the 
way that fluid seemed to course along his jawbone as 
though something were moving.  Doggett swore softly 
to himself as he realized that just under the skin, 
there was a massive amount of greenish liquid, and 
within that liquid, small worms appeared to move and 
slither, distending the skin.

Ciccone started to make a gurgling sound, and then 
his midsection appeared to collapse slightly.  His 
eyes went wide, and in a jerking motion, he slapped 
the flashlight away from his face.

"No!" Doggett cried out, and scrambled to turn the 
beam back towards Ciccone's faceplate.  But before 
he could react, he heard a loud but muffled "pop".  
He managed to illuminate the faceplate just in time 
to see what remained of Ciccone's face slip off the 
surface of the glass.

There was a sudden noise behind him, and he realized 
that Tommy was retching by the door.  Doggett watched 
as Ciccone's suit seemed to deflate, as the corrosive 
liquid from his body drained down into the legs of his 
suit.

Doggett stared blankly, gazing at the fallen officer,
or what was left of him.  This might not have been
a lead on Mulder, but whatever it was, he was damned
if he was going to let it kill anyone else on his
watch.

***

Washington, DC

11:48 PM

Scully stood over the sagging blue protective suit 
containing what was left of Officer Frank Ciccone, 
staring at the residue on the faceplate with obvious 
distaste.  She had just completed an analysis of four 
different samples of the green material, as well as a 
quick evaluation of the body parts.

Everything was pointing to one single source for each 
and every case.  And if that was the case, then she 
had no desire to open that protective unit and give 
whatever organism happened to be alive in there a 
chance to get to her and her unborn child.  At least 
the suit had been immediately sealed before anything 
could escape.

But on the other hand, she had very little choice.  
And so with more than a little reluctance,  Scully 
was standing in a clean room wearing a protective 
suit of her own.

"Victim is identified as Frank Ciccone, age unknown, 
height unknown, weight unknown.  Victim was wearing 
a hazardous materials containment suit at time of 
death.  Victim's body appears to have been completely 
destroyed within the suit by an unknown organic 
corrosive agent.  Witnesses are on record as having 
seen worms of some type within the victim's body before 
the time of death.

"Preliminary diagnosis would appear to confirm that 
the victim died of the same unknown infectious or 
pathogenic cause as the previous victims."

Scully took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  "We 
will confirm this diagnosis by releasing the seal on 
the containment suit and determining the nature of 
its contents."

Scully stepped back slightly as she released the seal, 
watching as a large portion of the green liquid spilled 
into the glass tray that held the containment suit.  
The liquid's corrosive properties would have been 
retained within the sealed atmosphere of the containment 
suit, and Scully had no intention of getting charged 
for a new autopsy table.

But none of that was her concern at the moment.  
Instead, she felt a primitive fear as the first of the 
small worms surfaced in the green liquid.  Soon there 
were hundreds of them, then thousands, writhing in the 
fluid, trying to find some means of moving towards 
another source of nourishment.

Scully knew what that meant, and she continued with 
her record in order to make sure others were aware 
of it as well.  "Seal has been broken.  There is a 
large quantity of the organic corrosive, as well as 
thousands of larvae of an unknown insect.  The larvae 
are sensitive to some unknown indicator of nearby living 
organisms.  The larvae are currently collecting in one
part of the glass tray...the part closest to me."

Scully looked to the ceiling above the tray.  
"Diagnosis appears to be correct.  Officer Frank Ciccone 
was killed by infection, exposure to an unknown insect.  
Vector of infection would appear, in this case, to be 
caused by a sting from the fully grown adult insect.

"I will now begin the experiment."

Until now, the lights in the room had been turned 
very low, in order to observe the larvae in their 
fully functional state.  Scully decided that it was 
the perfect time to turn on the very bright lights 
hanging directly over the glass tray.

Instantly, as the blinding light shone down on them, 
the larvae began shriveling and dissolving within the 
slowly drying green liquid.  To Scully's shock, within 
seconds, none of the larvae remained.

"The experiment was a complete success.  The larvae, 
in their entirety, were killed when exposed to a light 
source able to penetrate the corrosive liquid.  It is 
my determination that this provides a means of defense, 
and can be used in the field as a means of destroying 
the organism in the larval stage."

Scully hesitated, and then concluded.  "It is unknown 
whether a similar approach would be enough to destroy 
the organism in the adult stage, although witnesses 
have reported that the only adult specimen encountered 
appeared unaffected by the artificial lights on the 
scene."

Moments later, Scully was standing in the next room, 
looking through the glass at the steadily evaporating 
liquid in the tray.  It was so similar to the properties 
of the remains of the alien bounty hunter, those weeks 
ago.

No matter what she had told John, she had invested much 
more in this unofficial lead than anything they had 
heard since Arizona.  To have it turn into some generic 
X-File, after all of that anticipation...

Scully sighed, and pressed the speed dial on her cell 
phone.

"John Doggett," came the voice seconds later.

"It's Agent Scully," she instantly replied.  They might 
hate playing the overly formal game, but there was a 
certain comfort to it.  It was almost natural now.  
"I've finished looking at the remains of Officer Ciccone.  
I think I have a complete picture of what kind of 
organism you're dealing with."

"That's great, because we are completely at a loss 
here," Doggett admitted.  His voice sounded strained, 
and beyond weary.  "I've been waiting to hear from 
you before taking the next step.  You mind starting 
at the beginning?"

"No, that's fine," Scully replied.  Where else would she
start?

"The first victim was one Anthony Calzaretta.  In that
case, we had the benefit of fingerprints, of course.
Records show that he had been an employee of J. Manheimer
for just about a year.  Reported missing just before I
made the identification, according to the NYPD.

"The remaining tissue, mainly the hands, shows some very
strange properties.  For one thing, there was massive
infection of the tissue by those worms.  The worms are
actually the larvae of whatever insect you encountered
in the trailer.

"The green liquid is a combination of pus from the 
infected tissue, the digestive bile of the larvae, 
and the resultant excrement.  There is also evidence 
of an unknown organic material, which does not match 
human fluids or the fluids from the larvae.  The digestive 
fluids of this particular insect are something far removed 
from anything I have seen for something that size."

"So the victim was infected, probably from some kind of
insect sting, and that infection ripped through his body
as the larvae reproduced."

Scully sighed.  "That's what I think."

Doggett grunted an agreement.  "OK, what about the fact
that the hands and that piece of scalp were unaffected?"

"You were right about the light being important," Scully
answered.  She rubbed her hand across her sweating
forehead.  "The sunlight from outside penetrated the skin,
and prevented the larvae from spreading into that tissue.
Apparently that patch of scalp was not covered by enough
hair to remain in the dark."

Scully paused, collecting her thoughts.  "Did the rest 
of the HazMat team find any larvae in the trailer?"

"Yeah, but they were dead," Doggett replied.  "When they
tried to leave the trailer, the sunlight got them, or our
portable rig.  The rest were dealt with after the incident
with Officer Ciccone."

"The larvae are the means of reproduction," Scully said
confidently.  In this respect, the larvae were very
similar to the worm-like forms taken on by the alien
virus that she and Mulder had encountered four years
earlier in Terma, and a couple years later in Texas.
"They find a living host, and when it is large enough,
it serves as a breeding ground for an adult."

"Which is why there was a trail going from the dog to
the trailer," Doggett reasoned.  "The dog was a source
of food, but not large enough a host to allow the adult
to spawn."

Doggett hesitated, and then asked, "I assume that we have
a clear chain of victims here?"

Scully turned, looking into the clean room.  "It would
appear to be the case.  Anthony Calzaretta was infected
approximately 32 hours ago by an adult insect that has
not yet been located.  The larvae left Calzaretta's
remains and sought a new host.  It tried to infect a
dog, could not spawn an adult, and so moved on to the
next available victim, which was Mr. Ferrara in the
trailer."  Scully saw a flash of moment to one side,
and pushed her hair behind her ear.

"Who spawned an adult as well as more worms," Doggett
"The adult that wound up infecting Officer Ciccone."
There was the muted sound of a curse in the background.
"Agent Scully, this makes sense to me, but I have a
lot of officers here who need to know what our next
move is."

"I know," Scully said, pushing her hair behind her ear
again.  It was becoming distracting.  "I think the
obvious move is to find the original adult."

Doggett was the one to curse this time.  "Only we
have no idea where to look, and this is one hell
of a big city."

"No, I don't think so," Scully interjected.  "The 
adult, regardless, is going to want to build some 
kind of hive or nest in a place with zero light.  And 
since the larvae can only travel a short distance, the 
original adult is going to want to stay within a short 
distance of that area, in order to make sure the new 
aadult can reach the nest with as little exposure to 
light as possible."

"So," Doggett said knowingly, "we should be looking 
for a building with little or no lighting and very 
close to the warehouse where the first victim was 
found."

"Exactly," Scully replied.

Doggett laughed.  "Great.  I think I already got the 
grand tour of the place."

Scully didn't quite understand, but she lost the 
obvious question as she once again became distracted 
by the movement of her hair.  What was with it tonight?

"Do you think we should bother with HazMat suits?" 
Doggett asked, breaking her out of her line of thought, 
such as it was.

"It might be some measure of protection against the 
larvae," Scully noted, "but you're dealing with the 
adult.  And we already know that the containment suits 
are no protection from the stingers on an adult."

"That's what I thought," Doggett said with that 
familiar tone of weariness.  "Then I guess we'll 
go in as is.  With a bigger flashlight, though, that's 
for sure."

Scully smiled.  "I'm still waiting on the lab results
regarding that unknown organic chemical in the residue.
I should get it within the next few hours."

"Let me know when you get something, right away," 
Doggett replied.  "It could be important."

"I will," Scully answered.  She hesitated for a 
moment, and then said, "Watch your back, Agent 
Doggett.  And stay in the light as much as you can."

"That thing's not going to be in the light, Agent 
Scully," Doggett countered.  But she could hear his 
smile in his voice, and knew that her warning had 
been taken as it had been intended.

Doggett disconnected, and Scully found herself leaning
in complete exhaustion against the window to the clean 
room.  It appeared as though everything was in order, 
and the objective was clear.  Now that the question 
of Mulder's involvement had been resolved, it was a 
simple hunt for a new and deadly insect.  And that 
was a typical day at the office on the X-Files.

Hadn't she forgotten something?

Well, it had been a very long 24 hours.  After her 
meeting with John the night before, she had not 
gotten much sleep.  Her head had been filled with 
images of Mulder, and the hopes that such thoughts 
always brought.  And then the usual wearying intrigues 
over the X-Files, and this business with the unknown 
insect in New York.  None of them more important than 
her ever-present complications with the baby.

She slid one hand across her stomach.  Skinner was 
right.  She had a few weeks, no more, before matters 
came to a head and the baby would start showing.  
And then there would be the inevitable tension between 
her and John, with him wondering why she had never 
trusted him enough to tell him the full truth.  He 
would still be there for her, she knew him well enough 
to be sure of that much, but what bonds they had forged 
would be sorely tested.

No, she was right to keep it from him, given how 
closely he was being watched by Kersh and his unknown, 
but suspected, benefactors.

Once again, there was that annoying movement in the 
corner of her eye, and she reached up to tuck her 
hair behind her ear.  Only there was no hair to tuck, 
and suddenly Scully realized what she had missed in 
her exhaustion.

She jumped away from the glass just as the stinger 
of the spawned adult sliced a line into its surface, 
and then began smashing into the glass as hard as it 
could with the lethal stiletto point.  Scully was 
barely able to reach the other side of the observation 
room before the glass shattered.

Scully grabbed a large instrument tray and held it like
a shield in front of her as the insect's stinger stabbed
at her again and again, pressing her towards the wall.
Scully realized quickly that the insect was trying to
corner her, and that she would never escape infection 
if she allowed that to happen.

To one side, she saw a rotary saw lying on a cart, ready
for use during the next scheduled autopsy.  Taking a 
chance, she let go of the instrument tray with one hand 
and grabbed for the saw.  The stinger shot out at her 
exposed arm, but it missed, and Scully managed to 
retrieve the saw without injury.

Still, she'd only get one or two chances at using the 
saw against her attacker.  As soon as the stinger 
lanced towards her again, she hit the switch on the 
saw and brought it down towards the powerful thorax.  
She missed, but so did her opponent.

It recovered quickly.  Before Scully was ready to 
defend herself, she felt the stinger plunge into the 
hand holding the instrument tray, tearing through the 
glove and into her flesh.  She screamed at the sudden 
searing pain, and ripped the saw into the insect until 
it withdrew.

Ignoring the pain in her wounded hand, Scully continued
to bear down on the insect with the saw until it was
severed in two.  Green corrosive material spilled down
onto the floor, sizzling as it began eating away at the
tile.  Some of it hit Scully's legs as well, but that
pain was a minor issue.

Scully stumbled towards the door to the clean room, 
holding her hand as far from her body as possible.  
The searing sensation was obviously from the digestive 
acids of the first larvae to begin eating at her flesh, 
and she could already feel the movement under her skin.

As she stumbled into the room, she was thankful that the
bright light above the glass autopsy tray was still on.
Taking only minimal care to avoid the remaining acidic
liquid in the tray, Scully thrust her infected hand under
the light, putting it as close to the source as possible.

Seconds later, she felt the movement cease, and the fluid
under her skin began seeping from the wound.  Scully held
her hand to the light for as long as she could bear, and
then she slumped against the glass tray, taking care not
to lean into the still deadly fluid.

She took a step towards the door, intending to make sure
that her hand was properly treated, when she felt a
stabbing pain in the left side of her abdomen.  She cried
out, falling to one knee, and she was barely able to
catch herself.  Another knife seemed to rip through her
right side, and then she lost all strength as she simply
collapsed from the agony.

"No!" she moaned, the word wrenched from her throat, one 
hand trapped under her as the other instinctively went to
her stomach.  The lancing pain continued to throb from
both sides, with any attempt at movement.

Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she heard the
sounds of footsteps running into the room.  She realized,
through the haze of pain and the rising panic, that the
breaking glass must have triggered an automatic alarm.

"My baby," she cried, her plea cut off as she sucked in
a short, jagged breath as the pain ripped through her
as they tried to help her to her feet.  "Please, don't
let my baby die!"

Then she was back on the floor, voices crying out for
a stretcher, to keep her still until help could arrive.
And then, as the shock and trauma finally caught up with
her, everything faded to black.

The Rest