***********

Original Sin

Chapter Six

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


Scully couldn't think of a good excuse not to include him, so Ruben rode with her 
to the morgue.  She was having trouble recalling how they had first met.

You think it's a setup? Mulder had asked.  The question would not leave her alone.

The car was an oven, stinking of baked plastic and leather.  Scully grasped the 
burning wheel gingerly as Ruben tilted the air vents toward his face.  He seemed 
larger somehow and she wished she hadn't let him come along.  Heat prickled the 
back of her neck; her mouth was dry.

Ruben uncapped a half-empty water bottle and drank it down.  "Thanks for letting 
me tag along," he said, tapping the bottle against his knee.  "With Milgram 
sniffing around and now Mulder involved, I just don't want to get shut out.  She 
belonged to me too, you know."

But he didn't sound as sure anymore.   

"I was just thinking of our first case together," she said, glad for the dark 
glasses that shielded her eyes.  Her voice sounded high and thin.  "How we met."

"The Robbie Sanchez murder?  What brought that to mind?"

The air seemed to shimmer off the road in front of her.  She felt momentarily 
light-headed.  "I wondered when you caught the case," she said as she fumbled 
blindly with an air conditioning vent.  "It was after I was on board, right?"

"I guess.   I don't really remember the specifics."  He turned to look out at the 
passing buildings.  "Pawn shop, fast food, strip joint ? all of them no doubt have 
slots inside.  I can't imagine raising my kids in this city, I don't care how far 
outside the strip you get."

"Do you remember who approached you about the case?"

"What?  Sanchez?  It was pegged as a loser from the start.  No one else wanted it, 
so of course it ended up on my desk."

What she knew now, but not back then, was that Ruben had a reputation for taking 
long-odds cases.   "So it wasn't a special request?"  

He gave a short, humorless laugh.  "They wait until I get up to go to the bathroom 
and then stick the files on my chair.  If you call that special..."

"So you're saying anyone could have put it there."

"Dana, what's the problem here?  Who cares how I ended up on the case?"

God help her if they had sacrificed a ten-year-old boy so she could have a love 
life.  She gripped the wheel tightly and tried not to be sick.  Leave one Mulder, 
she thought, and they send you another.  Right down to the same God-damned sister.

"Dana?"

She pulled the car to the side of the road and buried her head in her hands, 
sunglasses falling aside as she took deep breaths to quell the nausea.

"Honey, are you ok?"  Ruben's hand was heavy and hot on her shoulder.  "What's 
wrong?"

"Your sister had a metal implant in her sinus cavity."  She sat up and pointed to 
her cheekbone.  "Here.  It was likely placed surgically sometime during her 
childhood abduction, by whom and for what eventual purpose we don't know, but if 
it's the same as the others then it had the ability to control both her mind and 
her body.  To make her...do things against her will."

"Stop it.  You're not making sense.   You need some air."  He reached over and 
turned the car back on again, renewing the cold blast of air conditioning.  "Maybe 
you should see a doctor."

"No, you need to listen.  I realize what I'm telling you sounds fantastic and 
unimaginable, but it's the truth and you need to hear it.  Annie...Samantha...she 
was taken for covert scientific testing with the direct knowledge, if not outright 
cooperation, of members of the United States government."

"Dana, you're scaring me, honey."  He was still trying to feel her forehead for 
fever.  "You're not thinking straight.  We need to get to you a hospital."

"I don't need a hospital."  She swatted his hand away.  "I'm fine.  I'm trying to 
explain why your sister's murder is even more extraordinary than you realize.  
That chip is a tracking device.  The men behind it, even if they aren't 
responsible for her death, may well show up to dispose of the evidence."

"Implants?  Abductions and secret government testing?  The next thing you'll be 
telling me is that a UFO came down and took her to Mars."

Scully was silent.

"Aliens?" he asked with disbelief.  "You're seriously kidding me."

"Mulder has a theory..." 

"Aw, Dana, come on.  Cut this shit out, okay?  I really don't need it right now.  
I've seen what was done to Annie, and that's the work of man, not ET."

She screwed her eyes shut and leaned against the headrest, trying to remember how 
it felt to be on the other side.  "I didn't believe it either," she said.  "Until 
it happened to me."

He said nothing but she felt him go completely still.  She waited through a long, 
agonizing silence until she couldn't take it anymore and opened her eyes again.  
Ruben had his back pressed against the car door and was staring at her like she 
was a stranger.

"I don't remember any of it," she said softly.  "But I was missing for three 
months back in 1994.  Someone dropped me off at a hospital, where I was 
unconscious for several more days.  The case remains open and unsolved.  But 
several months later, I discovered a microchip implanted near my brainstem."  

She reached around to touch the scar.

"Why didn't you take it out?" Ruben asked.

"I did take it out.  I nearly died."

"The cancer?" he whispered, and she nodded.

"The cancer went into remission immediately after the chip was reimplanted."

Ruben's shoulders slumped but he remained as far from her as possible.   He looked 
almost as unhappy as he had the night they got the phone call saying Annie was 
dead.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to make of all of this.  What you're telling me, 
it sounds insane.  But I know you.  You're about the least crazy person I've ever 
met.  I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'm the one having hallucinations."

"I wish it weren't true.  I wish I didn't have to tell you."

"I wish you'd told me sooner."

"I left the X-files, which I thought was part of their goal.  I guess I hoped I 
was off the grid, that it wouldn't matter anymore.  You know what it's like to 
start over.  You've said yourself how sometimes all a person needs is one new 
chance."

"From parents who beat you!  From a life in poverty or drug addiction!  I never 
said anything about this."  He rubbed his head as though it hurt.  "This chip," he 
said without looking at her.  "You said it can make you do things?"

She hesitated.  "Once, yes.  But not in many years.  Not since I've known you."

"I want to drive," he said, getting out of the car.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her sight.  She jumped as he jerked her door 
open.

"Get out."

"Ruben, please.  I'm sorry about all of this."

"I don't know how much of this to believe, but you clearly believe it, and that's 
scary enough for me.  I do not want you driving.  Get out."

He moved aside so she could exit.  Thankfully, her legs held up. "I never meant to 
hurt you," she said.

"You never meant me to find out.  That's not the same thing at all."  He brushed 
past her and took over the driver's seat, slamming the door.  For a moment, she 
thought he might drive off without her, but he sat hunched at the wheel, fuming 
while the car idled.

Slowly, she crossed and got in on the other side.  "I'm sorry," she said again.

"I wanted to build a life with you.  Now I'm not even sure who you are."

"We never talked about that," she protested weakly, but knew it was unfair.  She'd 
known full well where Ruben's heart and mind were headed, and she'd allowed him to 
believe enough for the both of them.

Ruben drove with controlled precision, hardly sparing her a glance.  She fished 
her sunglasses from the floor and put them on again.

Mulder had obviously beaten them to the morgue, and he leaned against the metal 
railing, squinting in the sun.  It was such a familiar picture for her that she 
almost felt relief.  You can do this, she said.  Just keep breathing.

They got out of the car, and Mulder righted himself.  "You guys stop to hit the 
slots on the way over?" he asked.

"Sorry we're late," Ruben said shortly as he stalked into the building.

Mulder raised his eyebrows in surprise and pointed at the door.  "Um, do we have a 
problem?"

"I told him about the chip," she replied wearily.

Mulder did a double take and took a step closer. "Hers, or...?"

"Both."  She steeled herself.  "Don't worry about it, all right?  He'll come 
around.  It's just a lot to swallow right now."

Mulder made no effort to move inside.  "So you never told him.  Not about the X-
files, not about what happened to you, none of it."  He let out a low whistle.  
"No wonder he's pissed."

"I was protecting him."

"Protecting him? Oh, that's classic."  Mulder turned his head and grinned without 
humor.  "Classic Scully.  I hear there's a river in Egypt they're thinking of 
renaming after you.  Don't pretend as though you lied for him."

"I didn't lie!"

Mulder talk over her as though she hadn't spoken. "If you don't mention it, it 
never happened, right?"

"You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You kept me on a strict need-to-know basis, Mulder.  My X-files intel had black 
lines through everything you thought was beyond or beneath me." 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His sister was cold and dead not fifty yards away.  "Forget it.  We can talk about 
this later."  She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her path.

"No, I want to know, because from my perspective, the only time I stopped telling 
you things is when you didn't care to listen."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to me," he said more softly.  "I want to know.  Is that why you left?"

She couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses.  "You already know why I left."

"You...I..." He broke off and looked at the ground.  "I know why you left," he 
admitted finally.  "What I'm asking is...why didn't you ever look back?"

The question hit her square in the gut.  She pursed her lips, shook her head 
slightly.  "What was I supposed to do?  Stand around and watch you work the X-
files?  You didn't want me there."

"I didn't want you to leave."

"You had a funny way of showing it.  Even now, there's something you're not 
telling me."

"You keep saying that, but I have yet to hear any examples."

The hot sun was making it hard to think.  "Well, for one thing, apparently you 
were out in L.A. investigating possible vampire-related arson while I was missing 
six years ago.  We covered all the cases you worked while I was gone and somehow 
that one never came up.  Doesn't sound all that earth-shattering, but now I'm left 
to wonder why you left that case out."

He didn't blink. "That's it?  That's all you've got?  One case from six years 
ago?"

"You wanted examples.  Here's another one: you're not all that surprised to be 
here.  I've been watching you, Mulder.  The specifics of this case are shocking to 
you but there's a...a kind of blunted affect here that is uncharacteristic.  I'd 
been attributing your emotional fatigue to all those false leads you've chased 
over the years, saying to myself that maybe you couldn't quite believe this is for 
real, but now I'm not so sure."

Guilt flashed across his features and she knew she'd hit her mark.

"Tell me," she said.

The door opened and Ruben reappeared; neither Mulder nor Scully turned to look at 
him.  "Are you two coming or not?  The M.E. is getting impatient."

"I *never* expected this," Mulder said to her.  "If you believe nothing else, 
believe that much."

He walked up the stairs and caught the door from Ruben.  The two men vanished 
inside into the dark hall, leaving her frying alone in the parking lot. 

*****

His earliest memory of Samantha was not her birth.  It was five months later, when 
she got him in trouble on a snowy afternoon.   The ancient heating system in the 
house was working overtime, radiators huffing like steam engines and old pipes 
clanging from inside the walls.  

Mulder loved the noise so much he'd answered it by hitting his toy mallet against 
the hollow metal radiator.  Bang!  Clang!  

His new baby sister squalled from the next room.

"Fox!"  His mother had hollered, startling him so much he fell forward and burned 
his hand on the sizzling pipe.  "What did I tell you about keeping quiet?  You 
woke the baby!"

He hadn't seen how she could hold him responsible and not the radiator, but he got 
his bottom swatted and was kept in his room for the remainder of the day, left 
with only the drifting snow to amuse himself.  He'd snuck out while his mother 
prepared dinner and found Samantha lying in her crib, gumming one end of a rattle.

"You're a good for nothing SOB," he'd told her, because this was what his father 
called the ball players on the radio when he was angry.

Samantha had waved the rattle at him and gurgled.

He'd reached in through the slats, intent on pinching her fat leg ? hard ? but 
she'd dropped the rattle and grabbed his hand.

He still remembered how small her fingers had looked and the sharp pinch of her 
tiny nails.

The dead woman in the morgue looked nothing like that baby, nothing like the 
little girl from his past.  He had imagined many different endings for her but 
none such as this.  However much he'd loved her, someone had hated her more.  
Mulder counted at least ten separate blows.

"You can cover her up again," he told Bartleby.

The M.E. raised the sheet and peered at Mulder over the rims of his glasses.  
"Agent Scully said you've been looking for her for more than twenty years.  I'm 
sorry for the ugly conclusion."

"Thanks."   One of her hands had not made it back under the sheet.  Mulder 
remembered how she'd felt, slipping through his grasp that last night in the 
diner.  

"Can I ask you about the chip?" Bartleby asked, and Mulder saw Ruben tense.

"I'm afraid I don't have many answers," Mulder replied.  "Where did you find it?"

Bartleby lowered the sheet again and indicated the left cheek, just below her eye.  
"I've done close to a thousand autopsies and I've never seen anything like it, but 
Agent Scully had seen it before.  She's the one who suggested we look."

"She was abducted as a child and we've seen similar implants in other abduction 
survivors," Mulder explained. 

"You think there's a connection to her murder?"

"No," Mulder said grimly.  

"How can you be so sure?" Ruben asked, accusation tingeing his voice.

"Because they would have taken the chip with them."  He nodded to Bartleby.  "Can 
you remove it and give it to me or Agent Scully?"

"I don't know.  This is an open investigation..."

"The people who put the chip there are going to come back for it sooner or later," 
Mulder told him.  "Trust me when I say that you are safer with it off the 
premises."

Bartleby looked surprised and turned to Scully, who nodded ever so slightly.  
"It's true," she said. "We've seen it happen before ? fires, break-ins -- evidence 
is damaged or disappears.  Removing the implant probably gives us the best chance 
of preserving the remaining findings for eventual prosecution."

"I'll see what I can do," Bartleby said.

"She used to cut herself," Ruben said in a rush.  "Back in high school.  Not very 
often and when I found out, I made her promise to stop.  Is there any chance she 
could have put the metal chip in there herself?"

"Given its placement?" Bartleby answered.  "Not a chance."


Outside, the heat was like a wall.  Mulder tugged at his tie as Ruben jangled the 
car keys.  "My parents are flying in," he said.  "I've got to meet them at the 
airport."

It wasn't clear whether he meant to include Scully, and she didn't get a chance to 
ask because a rented black sedan pulled up next to them.  The window rolled down 
to reveal Jack Milgram.  "You all ran off without me," he said.

"I just wanted to see the body," answered Mulder.

Milgram seemed totally uninterested in the response.  "I don't care what Holloway 
says.  I'm going over to get a look at that motel.  You want in?"

"I've got to go," Ruben repeated.

"I'll come with you."

"No," he said sharply.  "Mulder can give you a lift, right?"

Mulder nodded.  "Sure, but..."

"I'll see you later then."  Ruben walked off without another glance.

Milgram gunned his motor.  "So, how about it?  We can show Holloway how the big 
boys play."

"We'll follow you," Mulder said.

"Suit yourself."  The tinted window rolled up again and Milgram did a quick turn 
in the parking lot.

"Looks like it's you and me," Mulder said to Scully.  "Just like old times."

She did not smile but followed him to the car.  Inside, he cranked up the A/C and 
took off his tie.

"If you want, I can try to talk to him," he said.  "I always make you look sane by 
comparison."

"No."  

"He'll get over it."

She shook her head and leaned against the seat.  "I'm not sure I want him to."

"Aw, come on.  You two crazy kids can work this out."

"Mulder, if this was some set-up, then either Ruben is being used to keep an eye 
on me or vice-versa.  Either way, the romance loses a certain something."

The roar of the air conditioning filled the cabin.  Mulder kept his eyes on the 
road as he made his confession.

"I slept with a witness."

This got her attention, and she sat up to look at him.

"Back in L.A. six years ago, on the arson case.  Her name was Kristin and she was 
beautiful and lonely and I thought I could help her.  She told me she wanted to 
die.  I didn't take her seriously enough because she was true to her word: the 
case ended with her setting herself on fire."

"That's awful."

"I didn't want you to know."

"Mulder, if she was suicidal, that wasn't your fault."

He shook his head.  "No, that's not it.  At first, that's what I told myself, that 
I didn't want anyone else knowing how badly I had fucked up.  It took me a long 
time to realize the real reason I never said anything.  You would have known.  You 
can see it in my notes."

He glanced at her, and her expression was kind, questioning.  "What?" she asked.

"That I wanted to die too.  That I had given up."

"I'm sorry," she said eventually.  "I never knew how difficult that time was for 
you."

"I didn't want you to know."

She leaned back in her seat.  "Yes, exactly."  

They arrived at the motel and Mulder steered the car into the parking lot.  
"There's Milgram on the end," he said.  "The room must be down here."  He took the 
slot next to Milgram's rental.

They got out and Mulder surveyed the concrete jungle.  The Mayfield motel probably 
dated back to the 1960s and hadn't seen much love since then.  There were white 
stucco patches on the orange walls; the chain link fence around the small pool had 
several holes in it.  Inside, a faded beach ball floated alone in the water.

Milgram had inexplicably parked next to the dumpster, which stunk of baked 
garbage.  "Nice place," Mulder said as Scully waved flies from her face.

"I think we're looking for the second floor."

Mulder followed her to the crumbling staircase.  Paint peeled away from the metal 
rail.  "Milgram must have really stuck it to her in the divorce if this was the 
best she could afford."

At the top, they looked around but didn't see the man in question.  "I believe 
it's room 222," Scully said.

"There you are."  Milgram stuck his head around the corner.  "You two drive like 
my Aunt Sally.  Come on, the room is back this way."

They joined him on the far side of the motel, where the murder scene was not hard 
to spot.  It had been sealed up with yellow crime scene tape.  Mulder paused and 
looked over the railing at the narrow alley below.  "I suppose it's possible for 
someone to get up here if they were motivated enough, but most likely they'd have 
to use the same stairs we did.  She was out of the way back here.  You have to 
pass two dozen other rooms, so clearly the killer had a specific target in mind."

Milgram had his hands cupped around his head as he tried to see through a crack in 
the drapes.  "Can't see a God-damned thing.  You want to have a look-see?" he 
asked as he straightened up.

"We can't break the tape," Scully said.

"She's right.  We can't compromise the investigation.  We disrupt the scene and 
any evidence becomes tainted.  You know that."

"This investigation is already tainted.  There's another victim, same MO, happened 
about a month ago.  Holloway won't even give it a look."

"What was she doing here in Vegas?" Mulder asked him.  "Do you know?"

"I wish to hell I did.  Lately when we talked, all we did was fight, so I didn't 
do much prying into her business.  My lawyer said it was just best to follow the 
custody orders with a minimum fuss if I wanted to get them changed."

"Why were you trying for custody?"

"Samantha had always been a great mother, don't get me wrong.  But lately, she was 
slipping.  She'd be late picking them up.  They'd come home with dirty clothes.  
Sam seemed distracted.  I thought maybe she had a new romance going on but the 
kids said no, they hadn't seen a man hanging around the house.  I'm thankful 
enough for that.  Whatever was going on with her, she didn't parade it in front of 
them."

Mulder bent to examine the lock on the door.  "Doesn't seem obviously tampered 
with," he said.

"A chimp with an Amex card could pick that puppy in ten seconds."

"Do you have a recent picture of her?" Mulder asked as he stood up.

"Recent?  Yeah, maybe."  He pulled out his wallet.  "Here, this one is from two 
years ago.  Our last family portrait."

"Thanks."  He started toward the front office back around the building.  Scully 
and Milgram followed.

A young West Indian man was sitting behind the desk in front of a small fan.  He 
barely looked up from his Tom Clancy novel as they entered.  "Twenty-nine dollars 
a night," he mumbled.  "No personal checks without two forms of ID."

"How's this?" Mulder asked, holding his FBI identification right under the kid's 
nose.

The boy sat up straight in a hurry.  "What seems to be the problem, sir?"

"We're investigating the murder that took place here a few days ago."

"I wasn't on duty that night, but I had seen the lady on many occasions before."

Mulder exchanged a glance with Scully, who also seemed surprised by this 
information.  "Really?  This lady?"  He offered up the picture.

"Yes, that is her.  Is this her family?  I didn't realize she had children.  Such 
a terrible tragedy.  She seemed like such a nice lady.  We don't get too many nice 
ladies who stay here."

"How often was she here?"

He shrugged.  "At least six times in the past four months that I am aware of.  
Always on the weekend before this."

"Did you see her with anyone else?"  Mulder wanted to know.  "Maybe a man?"

"No, she was always alone that I could see.  No one ever checked in with her."

"Okay, thank you."  Mulder took the photo and handed it back to Milgram.

"I had no idea," he said.  "Explains why she was tired and distracted, if she was 
coming out here all the time."

Mulder noticed Scully was staring out the glass door at the cars parked across the 
street.  He walked over and joined her.  "What do you see?"

"There's someone in that red Honda," she said.  "A woman, I think.  She's been 
watching us."

Mulder caught a glimpse of blonde hair.  "Kind of warm to be sitting around in 
your car just for the fun of it," he murmured.

"Precisely what I was thinking.  I'll run the plates."

Mulder's cell phone rang and he pulled it out.  "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, this is Holloway.  If you still want to see that crime scene 
information, I have it pulled together for you."

"I'm on my way."

****

Scully brought their dinner fare, sandwiches and sodas, to the small, airless room 
where Mulder sat with the crime scene reports and photos.  "How's it going?" she 
asked as she squeezed her way in next to him.

"I was just about to cue up the security camera footage from the motel parking 
lot.  Based on our experience this afternoon, I don't have a lot of confidence in 
the quality."

"Milgram is outside spitting bullets that he's not allowed in to your secret 
clubhouse."

"Not my call," Mulder said before biting in to his turkey sandwich.  "Can't say 
I'm disappointed though.  How Samantha ended up married to that prick is beyond 
me."

"Holloway likes him for the murder," she said as she opened her Diet Coke, and 
Mulder stopped chewing.

"Seriously?" he asked around a mouthful of turkey.

"He pretty much came right out and told me."

"Makes a certain amount of sense but I would think his alibi would have been easy 
to check."

"Must be some question because Holloway hasn't cleared him yet." She picked up the 
nearest picture, which showed a blood-streaked bathroom.  "Do you have any 
theories?"

"It's so messy," he said, rooting around for more photographs.  "Forget the 
Consortium crew, I'd be hard pressed to say Milgram is responsible for this.  It 
seems like he probably took her by surprise, possibly in the bathroom, but she 
managed to get past him somehow to the bedroom.  He had the advantage of a weapon 
and the fact that she didn't know he was coming and still he lost control of the 
situation, at least for a time.  That says amateur to me."

"Crime of passion," she said.

He nodded.  "Yes, but they didn't recover a murder weapon and there's nothing 
obvious missing from the room.  That suggests premeditation."  He picked up a 
picture of Samantha's crumpled body.  "Whoever did this kept hitting her long 
after she was down.  It's as if he wasn't satisfied with killing her; he wanted to 
expunge her very existence."

"If it's an inexperienced killer, maybe he's on the tape."

Mulder picked up the VCR remote.  "We can hope.  But Holloway's been over this one 
and he didn't pick up anything.  From the notes, I gather she's on the tape right 
around the two a.m. mark, but unaccompanied and no signs of anyone following her."

As Mulder had predicted, the parking lot footage was grainy and degraded.  While 
the sun was still up, they had a good view of people coming and going, but as the 
light faded, so did their ability to make out much detail.  "This is practically 
useless," he muttered.

Something about the tape was bothering Scully but she couldn't quite figure out 
what it was.  The shots of the cars reminded her of the red Honda.  "It was a 
private investigator who was watching us from the car today," she said.  "I ran 
the plates and the Honda came back registered to Dorothy Carson, Inc. She runs a 
PI agency here in the city."

"So she may not have been watching us."

Scully smiled.  "More likely we were walk-ons in some suburban marital drama."

"Hey, look.  I think that's her."  Mulder rewound the tape.  "See?  Walking across 
the parking lot with the big white purse."

Sure enough, Scully could just make out Samantha Milgram crossing the parking lot 
on foot.  She went to the stairs and presumably up to her room.  "I don't see 
anyone else around."

"Me either." 

"Is this the last time she's on the tape?"

"Let me check."  He shifted through the files, looking for the notes.  

Scully watched the screen and tried again to figure out what was bothering her 
about the shot.  "At least we know she was still alive at two a.m..  But you would 
think she'd have to have been followed.  Either that or the killer was already 
lying in wait."

"Well, keep in mind our view is cut off there on the left side.  The camera 
doesn't capture everything.  Hey, wait a second.  Wait just a second."

"What?"

"Take a look at this and tell me what you see."  He handed her a page of the 
report.

"It's an inventory of the room's contents."  She scanned it again.  "What am I 
looking for?"

Mulder was rewinding the tape again.  He halted it on an image of Samantha in the 
parking lot.  "That," he said, pointing at the white purse.  "It's not on the 
list."

"You're right," she said, checking again.  "The killer took it with him.  But I 
see they did find a purse here, a black one.  So whatever was in that bag, it may 
not have been the usual wallet and keys."

Mulder let the tape play again, tapping the remote against his chin as he watched 
Samantha disappear from view once more.  "I wish we could follow her right off the 
screen."

Off the screen.  She jerked her head up and looked at the TV.  "Mulder."

"Hmm?"

"Do you realize the camera captures every car in the parking lot except for one?"

"Yeah, the one near the dumpster."

"The one Milgram used today."

He sat up, sober at the news.  "Could be coincidence."

"Or habit."

A sharp knock at the door made them both jump.   Holloway stuck his head in, not 
looking pleased.  "I know I've made jokes, but this time I've really had it.  You 
people won't stop until you've got the whole damned FBI in on this case."

"What are you talking about?" Mulder asked.  "I didn't call anyone else.  Go speak 
to Agent Milgram."

"I would, but she's asking for you."

"She?"

"Agent Diana Fowley."

*********

End chapter six.  Continued in chapter seven.

Thanks to Amanda for proofing, and for the lovely cover art!

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