Isolation – Part 2

Isolation by ML Part 2 of 2 Headers and disclaimers in Part 1

Chapter Ten

The next morning, wary of what might happen between Fletcher and Langly, Mulder had suggested that he drop Langly off at Best Buy to do some computer shopping.

“Best Buy?” Langly said disdainfully. “I don’t buy computers off the shelf.” Instead, Langly directed him to a disreputable looking computer store not far from the warehouse, which Langly seemed to recognize. Mulder had handed over a credit card with some trepidation, promising to come pick him up in a couple of hours.

When Morris Fletcher finally showed up, alone, he was glad he’d left Langly off at the store. Fletcher’s news was not pleasant. Frohike had disappeared.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Mulder yelled.

“He’s not where I left him,” Fletcher shrugged. “No one seems to know where he’s gone.”

“He’s not just a package you left in a bus locker somewhere, he’s a human being!”

“I also didn’t have a tracking device on him, although that’s certainly a consideration for the future,” Fletcher said thoughtfully.

“Tell me where you expected him to be,” Mulder demanded.

“I don’t think so. Besides, if he’s not there, what good would it do you to know?”

“I am a trained investigator.”

The door alarm rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Fletcher murmured. He smirked at Mulder. “Aren’t you going to get the door?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Mulder promised as he checked the monitor.

Doggett and Reyes stood at the door, with a young woman standing with them. He buzzed the door to let them in.

“This is Connie Philips,” Monica said. “She’s Roger Mintage’s assistant. We told her we’d found him, but that he’s lost his memory.”

Connie looked like a rocker chick. She had the requisite spiky hair style, black with blonde streaks and kohl-rimmed eyes, giving the impression she’d been up all night. Her jeans were authentically worn, as were her high-tops. She wore a tee shirt for a band Mulder had never heard of.

“There’s no Roger Mintage here,” Fletcher said officiously. “Mr. Mulder, can I speak to you privately for a moment?”

Mulder gestured toward the kitchen.

“Are you out of your mind, bringing her here?” Fletcher demanded. “How did you find the studio, anyway?”

“We found a business card in Langly’s pocket. We were investigating. It’s what I do.”

“There is no Roger Mintage any longer. By the time that girl gets back to Chicago, it will look as if Mintage Sound had never existed. There will be a fire, or something suitably catastrophic. Mintage’s name will live on as a footnote in the music business, another tragic early death.”

“You can’t do this!” Mulder yelled, not caring if anyone heard him or not. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

“What are we supposed to do with the girl?” Fletcher hissed. “We don’t know anything about her. She could be a spy.”

“I’m going to take that chance. You don’t get a vote.”

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” Fletcher muttered.

“I’m telling you, if you don’t want me to have Skinner just lock you up and throw away the key, call off whatever clean-up operation you’ve got going on. We’ll figure out something else.”

“Well, we could always do a memory wipe on the girl.”

“Not an option. Don’t even think about it. We’ll handle this our way.”

They came back out to the main room, where the others stood trying to look as if they hadn’t heard every word.

“Roger’s here, isn’t he?” Connie asked. “He’s okay, right? This guy,” she looked daggers at Fletcher, “didn’t hurt him?”

“That remains to be seen,” Mulder said. “I’m just about to go get L…uh, Roger. You guys sit tight. Keep an eye on our friend here,” he said, gesturing to Fletcher.

The atmosphere got a little strained once Mulder left. Monica took Connie over to the area set up as a lounge and tried to make her sit down, but she was restless and tense. Her eyes tracked Fletcher wherever he went. “I don’t like that guy,” she said softly to Monica.

“I don’t blame you,” Monica whispered back.

Langly was waiting at the door of the computer place when Mulder pulled up, several boxes of equipment around him. “This’ll do for a start,” he said, handing over the credit card and the receipts.

Mulder whistled. “This had better be some computer.” He helped Langly load the boxes into the back of the SUV. There were several hard drives and monitors, and lots of cables, keyboards, and other peripherals.

“I’ve got some catching up to do,” Langly said. “I’m six years behind on everything. Not to mention that security at the warehouse sucks. I think you need to do something about that right away.”

“We installed cameras at the entrance, we use key cards, and there are motion sensor alarms. Do you think that having six locks on the door is better than one really good one?”

“No, I think six really good locks are better than one. I think that you need a lot more security than you realize. But Frohike is the real expert on that.”

“Yeah. But right now no one seems to know where he is.”

“Not even Fletcher?” Langly said incredulously.

Mulder shook his head no. “That’s what he says. I’m not sure I believe much of what he tells me. I don’t know what his motive would be for lying about that.”

“Maybe he’s holding him for ransom, and he’s upping the price?”

“He hasn’t asked for anything — yet. He seems to want asylum. He’s a shifty bastard.”

“You’ve dealt with plenty of shifty bastards before. Just make sure you’re keeping an eye on him. I’ll see what I can find out once I get the systems set up. I bet I can find out more and faster than any of those guys Skinner’s got working for him.”

“You’re on. The sooner we find out what’s going on, the better.” He paused, thinking about what he needed to say. “Langly, before we get back, I’ve got to tell you something.” He explained about Connie and the business back in Chicago. Langly didn’t ask any questions. He sat silently until Mulder finished his narrative, then shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of the place, or her,” Langly said. “But I’ll be nice to her.”

“One other thing,” Mulder said. “Morris Fletcher is here, too.”

“Let the ass-kicking begin,” Langly said grimly. “I’ve always been non-violent, but for him I’d make an exception.”

“Just remember what Scully said. We still have to get Frohike and Byers back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Langly muttered.

“Roger!” Connie jumped up as Mulder and Langly came in. “You’re okay.” She stopped short of hugging him, but didn’t seem to know what to do with her arms. She sort of hugged herself and then let them drop, standing awkwardly in front of Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said uncertainly. He had no memory of this skinny young woman with the dyed black hair and multiple piercings, but he’d told Mulder he’d play along. He caught sight of Morris Fletcher lurking in the background. Before he could say or do anything, Mulder stepped in.

“Let’s give them a chance to talk,” Mulder suggested to Fletcher and the others. He herded everyone else into the kitchen, leaving Connie and Langly in the lounge.

“Hey,” Connie said to Langly. He sat down on the sofa, and Connie perched on the edge of the armchair next to it.

“Hey yourself,” Langly said. “You’re Connie, right?”

“Yeah,” Connie said. “They told me you have amnesia, so you don’t remember stuff. What is this place? I mean, I know it’s a warehouse, but what’s it for?”

“It’s — I don’t know what it is any more. I used to live here.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Connie said. “It’s like your place in Chicago, except not fixed up. The — the recording studio; Mintage Sound. Do you remember?”

“I had a studio in Chicago?” Langly shook his head. It was like she was telling him about a dream she’d had, and he was in it. It wasn’t his dream.

“You still do,” Connie assured him. “These two guys came — a man and a woman — they say they’re FBI, and they showed me badges. They told me that you’d been kidnapped and lost your memory. So I locked the place up, set all the alarms, and came to find you. If you don’t remember how to get there, I can show you.”

“I don’t remember anything. I’m sorry, I don’t even remember you.”

She wouldn’t cry. She never cried. Roger Mintage had been her boss as well as a friend. She’d never had a family before Roger. Now he was gone too.

“That’s okay,” she said, although her throat was aching. “I was your assistant. I know how to do most things around the studio now. I could probably help you remember how to do stuff.”

She was so earnest under her tough looks, almost desperate. Langly wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. He sure didn’t want her to cry. He said something almost at random.

“When I was a kid, I thought it would be fun to have a recording studio. It’s cool to be in a band. I think it’s even cooler to work with a lot of bands, you know?”

“Yeah. You were good at it, too. Maybe once you go back, and see it, you’ll remember.” She’d taught herself not to want much, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting this. Please make him Roger again. Please.

“I think I need to stay here for now. But you know how to handle things, right? Maybe you could keep things going until I come back.”

“Really?” She brightened a little. “I can do that, just until you can come back. ‘Cause you will come back won’t you?”

“It sounds like you know your stuff. You’d have to show me what to do all the time. Do you think you could run it yourself? If I come back, you might be the boss of me.”

That made Connie smile. “I know I can. You’ll always be the boss, if you come back. I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Langly said, pleased with himself. He was royally pissed at Morris Fletcher for doing this not just to him, but to this girl, who obviously didn’t have much to begin with. The least they could do was to help her keep the business going. Mulder would help with that, he knew. If Connie even needed help.

x-x-x

By the time Scully got to the warehouse that evening, the place was starting to look presentable — for a warehouse, anyway. With everyone’s help — even the grudging help of Morris Fletcher — some additional furnishings had been assembled.

“Not quite all the comforts of home,” Mulder said. “There are sleeping quarters set up for Langly and the others. Langly’s got his computers going. We’re not done by any means but we’re getting there.”

“It looks like an Ikea showroom,” she remarked, looking around the lounge.

“Hey, don’t disrespect Ikea,” Mulder said. He gave her the tour, ending with the vast, empty main warehouse floor.

“This will be your lab,” he said, sweeping his hand over about half the space. “With the infirmary right next door.”

“That’s a lot of square footage for one researcher,” Scully remarked. “And a part-time one, at that. I can use the labs at the hospital, you know.”

“I figure that in time you’ll have a staff here, same as me,” Mulder said. “If you agree, that is.”

“It could work,” she replied thoughtfully. “We won’t be ready for the next arrival, though. If Fletcher brings them here, we have to be ready to get them to the hospital.”

“Well, I don’t want him pulling up to our house in his unmarked white van,” Mulder said. “What would the neighbors say?”

“Speaking of keeping up appearances,” Scully said, “How do I explain my new patients? Amnesia isn’t exactly in my area of expertise.”

“But if you were given a grant to study it, would you consider a new interest?” Mulder asked.

“Someone’s offering a grant?” Scully asked suspiciously.

“I’ve had some money put away for a while,” Mulder explained. “From my father’s estate, for Samantha, if she ever came back.”

“I remember.” She didn’t know about it until after Mulder himself was thought dead. “It’s still in existence?”

“Oh yeah. I didn’t get around to changing it, before — you know. I think it’s time I put some of that bad money to good use. I talked to the lawyers today.”

x-x-x

Later that evening, after much arguing, Fletcher revealed Frohike’s alternate identity. Doggett suggested putting out a BOLO for “Frank Franklin”. Fletcher had refused to reveal more than the name. Then Monica found a Missing Persons report from the Tucson area filed for a Frank Franklin that day.

The report stated that Mr. Franklin had gone to Tucson with a Gibson Praise, and had not returned when expected.

“If he’s with Gibson, he’s probably already on his way here,” Mulder said.

“How can you be so sure?” Fletcher scoffed.

“I just know. I think you should come back here in a couple of days with the antidote, and we’ll take it from there.”

There was a good deal more wrangling before Fletcher reluctantly agreed.

After he left, Scully took Mulder aside. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Mulder. We don’t know anything about the antidote or how to administer it.”

“What’s the alternative, Scully? Letting Fletcher do it?” He sighed. “I know it’s not the optimal solution. At least you’ll be able to oversee it.”

Scully nodded, her expression grim. “You’re right, it’s not the optimal solution.”

When it came time to call it a night, some awkwardness arose regarding sleeping arrangements.

“I’d rather stay here,” Langly said, “if that’s okay.”

Connie said quickly that she’d rather stay too, although Scully invited her to go home with them. Connie had stuck close to Langly all day, helping him put together his computer components.

“We may have trouble getting her to go back to Chicago,” Scully observed to Mulder on the way home.

“Would that be such a bad thing? I don’t think there’s anyone to miss her in Chicago, as awful as that sounds. If she doesn’t want to go back, I wouldn’t force her to go. She seems like a quick study, and she gets along with Langly. That’s a feat in itself.”

“You’re right about her being alone. Monica did some checking, and Connie was in the foster care system for a long time. I wouldn’t tell her she had to leave here. It should be her choice. I don’t think she’s been given many.”

“I certainly wouldn’t turn her out,” Mulder said.

Scully sighed. “It’s all so wrong.”

“What’s wrong? What Fletcher did? Yes, it is.”

“Do two wrongs make a right? Should we allow Morris Fletcher to continue to control this?”

“We’re not going to let him,” Mulder said. “We’re giving them their lives back, the lives that he stole, getting them involved in that whole business.”

“The thing is,” Scully said, “their lives are being stolen again. It’s not just the Gunmen, either; we’re ruining other lives too. Look at Connie. Her life will never be the same.”

Mulder was silent for a long time. “It’s all wrong,” he said finally. “What’s happened to the guys is wrong, what’s happened to you and me is wrong. We’re trying to make some of it right. We can’t change the past, but maybe we can make the future better.” He sighed. “Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“No,” Scully agreed, “it’s not.”

Mulder reached over for her hand and held it for the rest of the ride home.

x-x-x

Somewhere outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, Frank saw flashing lights behind them. “Pull over,” he hissed to Gibson. “Act natural.”

Gibson did as he was told, speaking politely to the officer and handing over his license and registration when requested. Frank sat stock-still, staring straight ahead. He had nothing to be worried about, he told himself. He’d done nothing wrong; he was an adult and free to go where he pleased.

“Your identification, Sir?” The officer asked Frank.

Frank hesitated only slightly before handing it over. What would happen if he refused? Nothing good, he was sure. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he handed it over.

The officer barely gave it a glance, as if confirming something he was already sure of. “Mr. Praise, would you step out of the car, please? And you too, Mr. Franklin?”

The younger man looked at Frank with panic on his face. Frank was sure that his face mirrored Gibson’s.

Frank heard the officer on his radio. “I’ve apprehended the subjects, awaiting further instructions.” He couldn’t hear the reply on the radio.

“Should we make a break for it?” Frank murmured to Gibson.

Gibson didn’t answer right away; he was frowning a little, concentrating on the officer. Suddenly his face cleared a little. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s okay. Stay put.”

In a moment, the officer came back over to the car. “Mr. Praise, Mr. Franklin, I’ve been ordered to escort you to the closest FBI office.”

“Can you tell us why?” Gibson asked, although Frank was sure he already knew.

The officer said, “I do not have that information, Sir. The Deputy Director has instructed the local office to assist you in any way it can.”

x-x-x

“When are Gibson and Frohike arriving?” Scully asked the next morning. She drank her coffee, though it wasn’t helping her feel much more awake. Neither she nor Mulder had slept much after getting yet another late-night call, this time with the news that Gibson and Frohike had been found.

“They’re getting a flight first thing this morning,” Mulder said. “Doggett’s picking them up at the airport. He was all set to go down to Little Rock and escort them personally.”

“Does Fletcher know?”

“I took great pleasure in waking him up myself,” Mulder grinned. “He’ll be there. He says he has the antidote.”

“We’re not letting him anywhere near Frohike with it,” Scully said firmly. “And before ANYONE does anything, we’re going to talk to Frohike. We’re not just going to rush him off to the hospital. I want him to understand what’s happened.”

Mulder nodded. “That’s why I want you to come to the warehouse. We should talk to him together, in surroundings that are a little less threatening.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Scully promised, giving Mulder a swift kiss before rushing out the door. Why had she thought thirty miles was a short commute? It was beginning to feel like a hundred.

She had strong misgivings about administering an unknown drug. Langly was okay so far, but there was no telling how Frohike or Byers might react. The “grant” might cover liability for the hospital and her staff, but it wouldn’t make her less culpable, nor would it assuage her guilt if she did anything that harmed her friends.

The warehouse was looking more and more like the Gunmen’s old headquarters. Last night’s pizza boxes were still on the kitchen table and empty Red Bull and Jolt Cola cans were scattered around. The formerly empty racks along the wall were now filled with components blinking their various colored lights. Langly had pushed all the other furniture out of the partitioned-off computer area except for a couple of desks and a long table, which was covered with equipment that he’d been pulling apart. Several power cords and cables snaked along the floor to the table and the desks.

“It’s ridiculous to assume that the wireless connection is safe,” he was explaining to Connie, who nodded solemnly.

“How’s everybody doing?” Mulder asked. “I brought breakfast.” He held up a bakery bag.

Connie and Langly both looked up at the same time. Connie had a monitor and keyboard next to the one Langly was using. Data was scrolling across the screens. It was impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I haven’t lost my kung fu,” Langly said.

“Good to know,” Mulder replied. “How about you, Connie?”

“She’s a natural,” Langly enthused before she could answer. “She could be another Esther Nairn.”

Connie smiled a little. It was obvious she had no idea who Langly was talking about. “Roger, uh, Langly, taught me a lot of stuff,” she said.

Langly looked momentarily confused. “Oh. Yeah.”

Around noon, Doggett called to say that he and Monica were on their way from the airport.

Fletcher got there first. He was cagey about where he was staying. Mulder briefly considered seeing if Skinner would put a tail on him, tabling the thought for more urgent matters.

“Have you got the antidote?” Mulder asked.

“Nice to see you too,” Fletcher said. “Yes, I have it.” He held up a small black case. “Is Dana here yet?”

“That’s Doctor Scully to you,” Mulder said. “I’ve called her, and she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

Hearing voices, Langly came in from the computer room, Connie trailing behind him. Langly seemed not to notice he had a shadow following him. “What the hell is he doing here?” he said, gesturing at Fletcher. Connie glared at him.

“Mulder,” Fletcher warned, “you’d better keep him away from me if you want my help.”

“Is this guy who’s coming here a friend of yours?” Connie whispered to Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said, surprised at the question. “Kind of. Yeah. We worked together.”

Doggett buzzed the door and Mulder let them in. He looked around at all the expectant faces. “I don’t think anyone expected a welcoming committee,” he said as he stood aside to let Gibson and Frank in.

Mulder, nearest the door, reached out his hand to Gibson. “Good to see you again,” he said, deadpan, and Gibson took his hand, only to be engulfed in a hug.

Frank stood uncertainly in the doorway. Mulder approached him.

“Mr. Franklin,” he said, “you don’t know me –”

“Sure I do,” Frank said easily in his gruff voice. “You’re Mulder.”

Hearing his old friend say his name was almost too much. He turned to Gibson.

“We had a long drive,” Gibson said. “I told him all about you, and Scully, and the other guys. What I knew, anyway.”

“But you never met the guys,” Mulder said.

“I knew them through you,” Gibson said. “And Frank, here, had memories of you, and Scully, and Langly and Byers. I can see them, even if he can’t.”

Langly had been standing in the background and now came forward. “Do you know me?” he demanded of Frank.

Frank thought a minute. “Yeah, your name is Langly, Richard Langly. I don’t know why I know that, I just do.”

Fletcher said, “He was the hardest to put under, for such a little guy. He really fought against the imprinting.”

“Who are you calling little, you overstuffed –” Frank started toward Fletcher. Doggett held him back.

“Get in line,” Langly said.

Amidst all the commotion, the door alarm rang.

“Do you think you guys can keep from throwing punches while I go let Scully ?” Mulder asked. He went to the door and opened it for Scully. “Welcome to the party. Frohike’s just gotten here.”

Without prompting, Frank walked right up to Scully. “Hello, pretty lady.”

Scully didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; she did a little of both. “Hello, Frohike,” she said.

“The name’s Frank,” he said with a wink, “but you can call me anything you like.”

Morris Fletcher clapped his hands together, startling everyone. “Okay, reunion’s over: time to get down to business.”

“I said we’re going to do this our way,” Mulder said. “That means full disclosure.”

“We need to explain to you about reversing the memory wipe,” Scully said gently to Frank. “If you don’t want to do it, we’re not going to force you.”

Fletcher made a snorting noise and rolled his eyes. “My way is much faster,” he said.

“Shut up, Fletcher,” Mulder said. “Fro-Frank, if you’ll come in, we’ll tell you what we know.”

Frank listened carefully to the two strangers. That asshole Fletcher hung around in the background, muttering objections, but everyone seemed to ignore him.

The man who’d introduced himself as Mulder and the pretty woman he called Scully did most of the talking. They seemed serious; moreover, they seemed to genuinely care about him. There was an inherent truthfulness in the way they spoke. Gibson, who had become a friend on their long road trip, sat nearby, not trying to convince Frank of anything, just listening along with him. The others were out of the room, although the one they called Langly had made a fuss about being kicked out at first.

Their story was incredible, but after what Gibson told him, not completely unbelievable. Gibson had that same trustworthy vibe about him, and he seemed to trust them.

In the end, the only stipulation he made was that he wanted to be sure that Carla, Teri, and his other employees at the diner were taken care of. “Some guy from the IRS was there,” he said, “and I don’t want them to lose the business because I forgot to dot an i or cross a t on some tax form or other.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Mulder said, with a hard look at Fletcher.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Fletcher muttered.

Once Frank agreed to go ahead with the procedure, Scully called the hospital to get the admissions process started. There would be a bed waiting for him when they got there.

“Why can’t we just do it here at the warehouse?” Fletcher asked.

Scully glared at him. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said. “If you don’t want to come along, you don’t have to. Just give me the antidote and tell me how it should be administered.”

“Nothing doing,” Fletcher said. “I’m coming along. You can call me Dr. Morris.”

“You are NOT getting anywhere near Fro — Frank at the hospital, and I am certainly NOT going to participate in any scheme in which you pretend to be a doctor,” Scully told him.

“Dr. Morris,” Mulder scoffed. “Great alias, by the way.”

“Hey, the IRS agent at the cafe was called Morris,” Frank recalled. “What gives?”

“I wouldn’t be too superior about aliases if I were you, ‘M. Luder’,” Fletcher sneered, ignoring Frank’s question.

“Boys,” Scully warned sternly. “If you don’t stop it right now, no one is going with me. Frank, are you ready to go?”

“I was born ready,” Frank said. “Let’s go.”

Scully drove Frank to the hospital with Mulder, Fletcher, and Gibson in the back seat. Fletcher kept glancing over at Mulder, keeping his mouth shut, for once. When Scully looked in the rear view mirror, Mulder and Fletcher looked like two teenage boys who’d been grounded.

At least this time their patient was able to walk with them up to the Neurology floor. Once Frank was settled in a room, Scully read the instructions that Fletcher had supplied, a single printed page folded into the case with the drugs to be used. She set up the drip herself as Nurse Chavez and Dr. Chandra assisted with the monitors.

Once the Frohike was attached to all the monitors, Scully thanked them both and told them she’d call them back if she needed assistance.

“Who wrote up these instructions?” Scully asked Fletcher, who was standing in the doorway.

He shrugged. “Someone in the lab. Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No, surprisingly, they’re fairly clear,” Scully replied. “I’d be much happier if there was more information about the drug itself and the indications, however.”

“Hey, it works,” Fletcher said. “What more do you need to know?”

“Plenty,” Scully said. “What about side effects? What about long- term effects?” She glanced over at Frank, hooked up to monitors with the drip ready to go. “How can we properly inform Frank, or anyone, of the risks if we don’t know what they are?”

“Mulder’s still here, and he’s okay,” Fletcher pointed out. “Aren’t you?” he asked Mulder pointedly. “Also,” he continued to Scully, “your friends agreed initially to the experiment. I think we have the signed consent forms on file somewhere –” he made a show of patting his coat pockets.

“Dr. Scully, I’m willing to take the risk,” Frank said. “If you promise me you’ll stay with me.”

“Of course I will,” she promised him, her eyes damp. “You’re sure about this, Frank?” she asked again.

Mulder glanced at Gibson, who nodded slightly. Fletcher noticed the silent exchange, his eyes narrowed.

“Hey, you know what they say: nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Frank joked, although his voice shook. “Go ahead, before I lose my nerve.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Scully promised.

Frank watched as if from a great distance as she prepared the needle and began the first injection into the IV line. Things started to get fuzzy right away. He focused on her soft hand holding his until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

~*~

Chapter Eleven

As promised, Scully stayed near Frohike through the night. She dozed on and off, always aware of the steady beep of the monitor and the still form in the bed.

A few hours after the start of the procedure, the monitor began to show an increased heart rate. Scully was immediately at Frohike’s side aware first, and was already at his bedside when the night nurse came into the room.

“I’ve got him, Nurse Miller,” Scully said. “Thank you.”

Scully checked Frohike carefully. He remained unconscious, but his eyelids fluttered and his breathing quickened somewhat. He moved restlessly, muttering under his breath.

Mulder, also asleep in the room, woke up as soon as he heard Scully. He stood a little behind her while she checked Frohike over.

“His temperature is normal,” she whispered to Mulder. “He seems to be dreaming. Although his brain and heart activity are slightly elevated they’re well within normal ranges. He doesn’t seem to be in any real distress.”

“Is he still under sedation?” Mulder asked.

“I haven’t given him anything since the initial dose,” Scully said. “What he’s experiencing seems more like natural sleep, assisted in some way by the drug. I think that Fletcher must have kept Langly knocked out for his own purposes.” The mere thought made her angry all over again. She had to remind herself to stay calm.

Mulder watched her and nodded in agreement with her. “Once the guys are all safe, we’ll figure out what to do about Fletcher,” he promised.

They watched Frohike as his eyes fluttered.

“Do you think he’s dreaming his old life, or his fake life?” Mulder asked. “Maybe that’s the process he’s going through — the past six years are being ‘dreamed away.'”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Scully said, “I don’t know how it could be proved, however.”

After several minutes, Frohike calmed down. So it went throughout the night. There were long stretches of calm followed by bursts of what appeared to be a dream state, then subsiding into quiet sleep again.

It was daylight when he fully woke up for the first time since the drug was administered.

“Frank? How are you feeling?” he heard a soft voice ask nearby. Who was Frank?

He opened his eyes to a beautiful woman standing over him. “Hello pretty lady,” he said.

She smiled, a little sadly. The bedside light formed a halo of light around her head. “Frank, how are you?” she repeated.

“Who’s Frank, Agent Scully?” he said. “And what am I doing in the hospital? Did we keep the toxin from spreading?”

x-x-x

“Two down, one to go,” Fletcher said cheerfully. Frohike had gone back to sleep after greeting everyone, still feeling the after effects of the drugs. Scully held his hand until he dropped off, at his request. Fletcher, Mulder, and Gibson sat in the family waiting room while Scully made sure that the tests she wanted were scheduled for Frohike. “We need to talk about Byers,” Mulder said. “I don’t want you going after him on your own.” “What do you mean?” Fletcher asked. “I don’t want Byers tricked,” Mulder said. “He needs to come willingly.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Fletcher asked.

“You’re the big smart Black Ops guy,” Mulder replied. “I’m sure that there are times when you’ve had to use persuasion rather than drugs or force.”

“Coercion and subterfuge are mainly how we roll.” Fletcher said. “I know: maybe you could get Grumpy and Dopey to go with me. They’ve been through it, so their input might be helpful.”

“Actually, I think that’s half a good idea, Fletcher. Tell me where Byers is, and we’ll go to him. Frohike and me, that is. Langly can stay here with Connie. You can sit this one out.”

“I don’t think so. I still have the antidote. You still have to play by my rules.”

“I wouldn’t willingly go with you anywhere,” Frohike growled from the door. Scully hovered behind him. “Not for anything.”

“Not for your friend and colleague?” Fletcher said. “Don’t you want him back here with you?”

“Only if he wants to come,” Frohike said. “Besides, who’s to say he’ll remember me?”

“We’re not trying to cut you out of anything, Fletcher,” Scully said. “We just want to make sure our friends are treated properly.”

“Suit yourself,” Fletcher said. “I’ll stay here with Dana, then.” He leered at her. Scully was used to being leered at. Usually, she took it in stride. But when Fletcher did it, it seemed so much creepier.

Mulder noticed too. He hesitated until Scully gave him a look that reminded him she could take care of herself.

“Frohike’s not going anywhere until I say so,” Scully said. “Once I’m sure he’s stable, we can decide what to do next.”

“I see who’s in charge here,” Fletcher said, doing his best to needle Mulder.

“It’s about time you realized that,” Mulder agreed. “You’ll find it makes things much easier.”

x-x-x

A few days later, once Scully was sure that Frohike was okay and well enough to travel, Mulder and Frohike found themselves at San Francisco International Airport, grounded by fog.

The closest airport to Perdita was in Eureka. Unfortunately, due to summer fog, landing anywhere along the north coast was intermittently impossible, and this was one of the impossible days. They were lucky that they were able to land in San Francisco. The choice was to fly to Redding and drive from there, or to drive from San Francisco. With the combined flying/driving times, there was little difference between the two.

Rather than wait for the next flight to Redding, Mulder decided they’d drive from San Francisco. Lariat’s map of Northern California didn’t list Perdita. The counter rep suggested that they get directions locally once they got up to Eureka.

The drive was about five hours, depending on weather conditions and traffic. He and Frohike were going to be in the car together for the whole day. He was glad to see his friend, but as a traveling companion, he’d rather have Scully.

“Did you and Agent Scully ever have a case up here?” Frohike asked.

“Yeah,” said Mulder. “It seems like a long time ago.”

“Big Foot country.”

“Oddly enough, we never investigated Big Foot out here.”

“Do tell. What did you investigate?”

“We did have a case that involved dwarves.”

“Is that a crack at my height?” Frohike asked indignantly.

“Of course not. There was a ring of illegal pot growers using dwarves as ‘mules’ to deliver their product.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No, you can ask Scully if you don’t believe me.”

“I think I will. Maybe you’d rather catch me up on what you and the luscious Doctor Scully been doing for the past six years?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got a long drive. I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve been doing, so spill. What’s been going on?”

x-x-x

“Come in, Agents,” Skinner invited Doggett and Reyes into his office.

Once they were seated and the door was closed, he asked, “What have you found out about Morris Fletcher?”

“Not as much as we’d like,” Doggett said. “We can’t go through official channels without attracting attention. We confirmed that he worked at Groom Lake. Seems like even that information might be suspect.”

“How so?” Skinner asked.

“It’s widely circulated in MUFON circles. However, we don’t know if we can trust our sources,” Monica continued. “We know he appeared at the DEFCON convention in 1999 — we have pictures to prove it. But we don’t know who he was representing at that time.”

“We’ve got someone working on confirming now,” Doggett added, “he’s gonna take a little while to get up to speed.”

“I’m not sure I want to know about that,” Skinner grunted. “How is the ‘recovery operation’ going?” Other than the calls from Mulder requesting assistance with one thing or another, he hadn’t heard much. His official duties took precedence. He could only blow off so many meetings with his section heads.

“It’s at two-thirds,” Doggett said. “The final stage is under way. We’re waiting to hear from the field on that one.”

“What about Fletcher? Do you know his whereabouts?”

“We’ve got the local office helping keep tabs on him,” Monica replied. “He doesn’t seem to stay in one location for long. He’s switched hotels about three times in the last week.”

Doggett added, “He seems very interested in Mulder’s new project. Mulder isn’t sure what’s behind his help — if it’s sincere, or if there’s another motive to it.”

Skinner sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There’s a lot at stake here. I’m going through some back-channels myself. The scuttlebutt I hear is that Morris Fletcher may have gone rogue. That he’s no longer involved with any agency in an ‘official’ capacity. It doesn’t rule out the possibility that he’s a contractor. The agency hiring him would have plausible deniability. A contractor can be blamed for doing something not officially condoned.”

“Yes, Sir,” both Agents Doggett and Reyes replied. “We’ll be paying a visit to the, uh, involved parties later today,” Doggett added. “We thought we should keep an eye on things, while, uh…”

“While the civilian consultants are out of town,” Monica finished for Doggett. She gave a lopsided smile to Skinner, who grimaced in return. They really had to come up with better code names.

“Just — keep your inquiries under the radar as much as you can. I don’t need Homeland Security on my back. The official policy is interagency cooperation. In reality, it’s every man for himself.”

x-x-x

Langly banged away at his keyboard, annoyed at having been left behind. Why had Frohike gone with Mulder, and not him? They’d told him that they needed him to start getting the computers set up, and it was true that he was the best choice for that. It didn’t stop him from resenting that Frohike just up and left. Frohike was the go-to guy for physical security and surveillance countermeasures. Even six years out of date he’d know more than Langly did.

Fortunately Fletcher had taken himself off, too. Gibson made him nervous. That was fine with Langly; he didn’t need him hovering around, asking questions and interfering.

Also lucky for him: Connie was sticking around. Monica had offered to take her back to Chicago, but she seemed reluctant to go. Mulder promised to help figure out what to do with the studio once they got the current situation figured out.

He remembered the last time he was with Frohike and Byers like it was yesterday and yet when he looked at himself in the mirror he could tell that time had passed. Things kept taking him by surprise. Computers had changed a lot. Even though there were a lot of improvements in computer security, it wasn’t hard for him to figure them out. Maybe security had improved, but people hadn’t changed. They were still sloppy, forgetful, and lazy, and that was always the hacker’s greatest advantage.

They were also way too trusting. Even with newer and bluer meanies out there, people still didn’t believe that the worst could happen, and maybe already had. That wasn’t something that could be said about him. Especially now.

x-x-x

Scully finished with the report on Langly’s and Frohike’s blood work and put aside her notes for transcribing later. She’d hoped that she might be able to determine the components of the solution that was used to facilitate memory restoration. So far she’d had no luck with it.

Word was already getting around about the “genius grant” awarded to Doctor Scully. The administrators of the Mulder Family Foundation had done an excellent job of informing the university of their award to Doctor Scully for the study of amnesia and brain chemistry. She was sure that Katy Chandra would still have questions; she was a good doctor and a good researcher. At some point Scully thought she’d want to bring her ‘inside’.

Even if she quit her current job and worked on an antidote to the black oil disease, or a weapon against the supersoldiers, she couldn’t do it without help. Mulder couldn’t do his part alone, either. The Gunmen’s help notwithstanding, a full-scale recruiting effort was necessary.

There was also the question of William. She wanted to believe that he was completely safe. That no one would find him. There was always the possibility that “They” still cared about him. She hoped that some day she would see her son again, once she knew it was safe to do so. That he would understand the decision she’d made to give him up, to keep him safe. More, she didn’t dare to hope for.

x-x-x

The sun was just setting as Mulder and Frohike arrived on the outskirts of Eureka. The sun turned the bay into molten gold as it sank below the horizon.

Except for necessity stops for a bathroom or to put gas in the car, they drove straight through. Mulder groaned as he stood up; it had been a long time since he’d driven nonstop for an extended period of time. Predictably, the worst of the fog had cleared about halfway through the trip, revealing glimpses of rugged coastline and stands of redwood and fir as the road wound northward.

“What are the chances we’ll get to Perdita tonight?” Frohike asked. They’d run out of conversation about an hour back.

It had been an interesting exercise, telling Frohike about what he and Scully had endured over the past six years. Only about two of those years were of any interest. Once they’d settled in Virginia there’d been little to tell. At least, little that Mulder felt inclined to share.

The hardest part had been telling him about William. His son was not a subject he could talk about to anyone other than Scully. Even that took an effort. Frohike was silent for a long time. “I’m sorry, man. Do you think that maybe, someday…”

“We haven’t discussed that,” Mulder said. “It’s not something I want to bring up.”

“I’m glad you told me. What about Langly, does he know too? You know how he can be.”

“Yeah, the first day. I guess it’s now part of our orientation lecture.”

Frohike snorted in amusement. “Previously on ‘This is Your Life.'”

“Yeah, I’d find it a lot funnier if it weren’t mine.”

“You and me both, my friend. What’s the plan?”

“Let’s see if we can find out where Perdita is. I hope it doesn’t live up to its name.”

x-x-x

“Scully, it’s me.”

She was starting to get used to these late-night calls again, and for once it was someone she enjoyed talking to. “Mulder, where are you?”

“Not quite the back of beyond, but we’re getting there. Frohike says hello.”

She could hear Frohike’s voice and a TV in the background. “I take it you haven’t gotten to your destination yet.”

“We’re close. We’ve been told that the road is tricky, and we thought it might be better to arrive in the light of day than to go knocking on his door late at night. How are things there?”

“Everything seems okay. No new crises, just the old ones. I miss you.”

Her words made him smile. “Me too,” he said, mindful of Frohike skulking around in the background.

“Call me when you see him,” Scully said.

“Of course,” Mulder replied.

x-x-x

The next morning, armed with a local map, they set out for Perdita. The cashier at the coffee shop where they’d had breakfast was also helpful.

“What takes you to Perdita?” she asked curiously. “It’s not like it’s a tourist destination.”

“We heard there were some good examples of California Victorian architecture there,” Frohike said. He’d lifted the sentence right out of one of the local brochures at the motel. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I guess so, though I think there are better ones here in Eureka,” she said doubtfully. “It’s a lot of bad road to take just to look at houses.”

“That might be, but you never know what you might find in these little places,” suggested Mulder with a smile, which got them the address for the only lodging in town, and a plug for a coffee shop there where her cousin worked.

“Smooth,” Frohike murmured as they left the coffee shop. “Way to sweet-talk the natives.”

“Look who’s talking, Don Juan Frohike,” Mulder retorted.

The road was not just bad, in some places it was almost non- existent. There were a few patches that could be described as paved in between potholes that must be harder to avoid when they were filled with water in winter. Some attempt had been made to smooth the road by resurfacing it with gravel, which created ruts that scraped the undercarriage of the car and shot small rocks up from the tires to dent the sides of the car and endanger the windshield. Mulder regretted not trading their sedan in for something with better suspension. He felt like he was in a pinball game, bouncing from one rut to the next.

“I don’t think we’re going to get the damage deposit back,” Frohike said.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Mulder said, concentrating on keeping the car from careening off the road completely.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they got to town. Morris Fletcher had told him Byers’ location and name, nothing more. They peered through the windshield at the dripping, fog-shrouded landscape.

Without warning, a sign for Perdita loomed into view. The road branched off; Mulder took the right-hand fork which soon led them onto the main street.

A lot of the buildings appeared to be original, or at least had been restored to the original. The firehouse was brick. Most of the other buildings appeared to be construction of wood, and most were ornamented with elaborate trim.

“It’s like the whole town was decorated by the Wicked Witch,” Frohike said. “Look at all that gingerbread.”

“Yeah, it’s like we’ve arrived in Fairytale Town. Try not to chew on the decorations, Hansel.”

“Ha ha. Where should we start looking? Should we ask the sheriff? Do you still have a badge?”

“The idea is to be low-key. That idiot Fletcher posed as an IRS agent when he visited you and Langly. We’re not trying to inspire fear, we just want to convince Byers to come back to D.C. with us.”

They drove slowly down the street. “Hey, there’s the newspaper office,” Frohike said. “That’s language I speak. I bet someone there knows who Brian Jordan is.”

x-x-x

Brian started to shut down the office computer and looked around, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. Tomorrow, he’d be leaving with Annie for San Francisco. It was a small step, but Annie was pleased.

The door to the front office of the paper jangled, and he looked up with a smile, expecting Annie. She was joining him for lunch at Donna’s.

Instead, two people stood in the doorway. The glare from outside made it hard for him to see their faces at first. He thought it might be a man and a boy; one figure was considerably shorter. Neither spoke.

Brian asked, “Can I help you? I’m sorry to say that the paper is on hiatus right now. I was just –”

The shorter of the two spoke in a deep, gruff voice. “Byers?” was all he said.

“I’m sorry, who?” Brian asked. As they stepped away from the door, he could see that the shorter of the two was not a boy at all, but a grizzled-looking man. He looked at Brian with a surprised expression, as though he knew Brian and hadn’t expected to see him here.

“Actually,” said the taller of the two men, “we were looking for Brian Jordan. I think we’ve found him.”

~*~

Chapter Twelve

Brian looked at the two men in confusion. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Don’t you remember me?” Frohike asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Brian said, looking panicked.

“Unbelievable. We lived together for years!” Frohike exclaimed, watching his old friend’s face go totally white.

“Not the way you seem to think,” Frohike added hastily, “not that there’s anything wrong with it. But I got a thing for the ladies, man. Seriously.”

“I think we’re moving a little too fast for Mr. Jordan,” Mulder suggested. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? My name’s Mulder, by the way, and this is Melvin Frohike.”

“I’m expecting my wife any minute,” Brian said. “Whatever you have to tell me, maybe it’s something she should hear, too.”

“You’re married?” Frohike exclaimed. “Of all the –”

“Settle down, Frohike,” Mulder said. “I think it might concern her, too. It has something to do with your past. Nothing bad,” he hastened to add, seeing Brian’s expression change again. “Weird, maybe. I think you’ll both find the information of interest.”

Brian sat down suddenly. “Are you — did you know me? Before the accident?”

“What accident?” Frohike asked.

“I was in a boating accident. It was six years ago, in San Diego. I don’t remember anything about it. I was the only survivor,” Brian said. “They told me I might never regain my memories. No one who knew me has ever come forward before now.”

“That’s because–” Frohike started to explain. Mulder cut him off.

“I think we should wait until Mr. Jordan’s wife is here. We can explain it to both of them,” he suggested.

“Explain what?” A woman stepped into the office. She was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Brian, what’s going on?”

“I — I don’t know,” Brian said. He stood up again, remembering his manners. “This is — Melvin Frohike and Mr. Mulder. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your first name,” he said to Mulder.

“Fox Mulder,” Mulder said. “You must be Mrs. Jordan?”

“I’m Annie Jordan, yes,” she said, standing by Brian. “What is this about?”

“These men say that they know me,” Brian said.

“Really?” asked Annie. “Then, where have you been for the past six years?”

x-x-x

Connie supposed it was time she went home. Everyone here had been nice — even Roger — Langly — was nice in a distant way. He seemed to look through her, not at her. He didn’t mind her company, especially if he could show off some of his hacking skills. It seemed to her that Roger was still in there, somewhere. But his focus had changed, and he obviously knew all these people who came and went in this place that he now called home.

Mintage Sound had been her home. At first, it had been just a place to crash, one in a long line of temporary shelters. Little by little, she’d made a place for herself there. Roger had stood in for family — acting like a bossy big brother sometimes, mostly pursuing a policy of separate but equal as far as their private lives were concerned. He’d allowed her to create her own living space. It wasn’t something that would ever appear in House Beautiful, but it was hers.

She flopped on the sofa in the lounge. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Chicago without Roger. He was the boss, the engine that drove the studio. She wasn’t sure she could do it on her own; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. Oh, the people here had said stuff about getting help for her. It just wouldn’t be the same. Maybe she could persuade Langly to go back with her — maybe being at the actual studio would help him to remember.

She picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Someone was always switching it to CNN — that Mulder guy, probably. He seemed to be the one in charge. News was boring; there was always something getting blown up or blown down or flooded or —

She sat up as the announcer said, “…in the gradually gentrifying warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago…”

“Roger!” she screamed. “Langly! Come here quick!”

x-x-x

Either Morris Fletcher was an expert at covering his tracks online, or he, Langly, was losing his touch.

He doubted that the latter was true. He tapped away, and set another program to search protected databases on Connie’s computer. She’d gone into the other room to take a nap. He could hear the murmur of the TV. Other than that, the only sounds were his fingers clicking on the keyboard, and the whirr of the machines around him.

Connie exclaimed “SHIT!” from the other room, startling him. She came running into the computer room.

“Ro – Langly, come here quick!”

Langly followed her into the lounge in time to see it: a large fire in a warehouse district near Chicago. Connie grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

“…it’s not known what caused the explosion which started the fire, or if anyone was in the building. The spokesperson for the Chicago Fire Department says they expect to have it contained by nightfall. At this time, none of the surrounding buildings are in danger. In other news…”

“We’ve got to do something!” Connie exclaimed.

“Yeah, but what?” Langly said. “We’re too far away. It’s too late.”

“I checked everything before I left, I swear,” Connie said. “I set the alarms, I was really careful.”

“I’m sure you were,” Langly said. Connie looked so lost standing there. “It wasn’t your fault.” He reached out and hugged her around the shoulders. “We’ll find out who did this, and make him pay.”

Connie leaned against his shoulder and sobbed. Awkwardly, Langly patted her and let her cry.

He had a pretty good idea who did this. He needed to get hold of Mulder and tell him what was going down.

x-x-x

Annie volunteered to go get sandwiches from Donna’s. “You can stay here,” Annie suggested to Mulder and Frohike. “We’ll come back and then you can tell us why you came all the way to Perdita, instead of just picking up the phone.”

Mulder and Frohike looked at each other. Frohike shrugged; he wasn’t sure they should be let out of sight, but Mulder seemed to think it was okay.

It was a short walk, just across the street. Mulder could see them talking to each other as they slowly walked away.

“You don’t think they’ll make a run for it, do you?” Frohike wondered.

“Why would they do that?” Mulder asked.

Frohike shrugged. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if some strangers showed up claiming that they knew you, and that they had something important to tell you?”

“I think it’d be more likely they’d get some of their friends to come back with them, to make sure that we didn’t try anything. We’re outnumbered here, Frohike.”

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Annie asked Brian as they waited for their order.

“No, I don’t remember them at all, but they seem to recognize me.”

“We don’t have to go back there,” Annie slipped her hand into his. “We could go out the back way and get the car, and leave for vacation early. We’re practically packed.”

She could see that Brian was only tempted by this idea for a moment. He didn’t know what these two men wanted any more than she did, but it was obvious that he wanted to find out. “No, I don’t think we should,” he said gently but firmly. “We can’t do that. Why run away? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

Annie stood closer to Brian and he put his arm around her. “You’re right,” she said, although she wasn’t completely sure. It was so important to Brian to know about his past. “Whatever it is they want we’ll listen to them, and then we can decide what to do.”

x-x-x

Skinner’s private line rang. The ID screen was blank, which was not a surprise; the few people who had this number were not trusting individuals, and with good reason.

“Hello, Sir,” said a familiar but unexpected voice.

“Dana, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Skinner said. He’d expected to hear from Mulder rather than Scully. He’d already heard about Chicago from Agent Reyes; she and Agent Doggett were on their way there.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry I haven’t called since we’ve been back.” He could hear traffic noises; she must be in her vehicle.

“It’s Walter, remember?” he said. “This isn’t a social call, is it?”

“No, Sir, it’s not. I’m sorry to bother you –”

“I know you wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. Where is he?”

“In Northern California. Someplace where cell phone service is intermittent, or I’d call him directly. Do you have any contacts in the Eureka area?”

x-x-x

“That’s — that’s an incredible story,” Brian said as Mulder finished telling him the tale of the Gunmen’s demise and their subsequent resurrection, with frequent asides and interruptions from Frohike, filling in the background of the Gunmen’s history and various crusades.

“Incredible but true, my friend,” Frohike said.

Brian and Annie sat side by side at the table in the Perdita Press’ office, opposite Mulder and Frohike. As Mulder told the tale of the Gunmen, they moved closer and closer together, until now they seemed joined, shoulder to shoulder. Brian took Annie’s hand nearest to him. They sat with fingers entwined as they tried to process the astounding information these two strangers had just shared.

“I’m still not sure I follow,” Annie said. “You want to inject Brian with something to make him remember who he is? Is this stuff safe? Has it been tested?”

“Two of us have had the ‘treatment,'” Frohike told them. “No real side effects, except that you won’t remember the life you’re living now.”

“Excuse me, that’s a big ‘side effect,'” Annie pointed out.

“It’s Brian’s choice,” Mulder said. “I wanted to lay the facts out to you, so that whatever choice you make is an informed one. And I don’t expect you to make this decision on the spot, though you can’t delay for too long,” he added.

“What happens if I say no?” Brian asked.

Mulder rubbed his hand over his face. “Frankly, I don’t know.” He was beginning to realize that it wasn’t much of a choice he was offering. If Morris Fletcher was truly a renegade, the agency he used to work for was probably already pulling the plug. They might be coming even now for Brian. He glanced at his cell phone; no service bars. He’d have to find a payphone somewhere to call Skinner and try to get protection for these two.

“It seems to me that it’s not a choice between having this done or not, is it?” Annie said, putting Mulder’s fears into words. “Only who will do the procedure, and where and when it will be done.”

The bell on the handle of the front door jangled, startling everyone. Mulder’s reflex was to reach for a gun, something that wasn’t lost on the new arrival.

“Put your hands in the air,” he said. Mulder obeyed. “Brian, Annie: are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Annie said under her breath. Aloud she said, “We’re fine, Nate. Why?”

The man who marched into the office wore a sheriff’s uniform. “Sure you’re okay?” He walked around the table to stand next to Annie and Brian.

“I’m not armed,” Mulder said. “Force of habit.”

“All the same, could you please stand up and put your hands over your head, and walk over there?” The sheriff gestured away from the door with his gun. “You, too,” he said to Frohike. “Annie, I know you’re a good shot. Why don’t you hold this while I check these guys over?”

Annie trained the gun on them as the sheriff stepped behind Mulder and Frohike and briskly and efficiently frisked them both.

“Okay, you can sit down again,” the sheriff said, and took the gun from Annie, much to Mulder’s relief. “I just got a strange call about you. I’m not in the habit of personally delivering messages, but the call came in at my office, and I think you’re going to want to return it right away.” He turned back to Annie and Brian. “I think you should come along, too. This concerns you.”

“What is this about?” Annie demanded.

“It seems like your husband’s cover in the Witness Protection Program has been blown,” the sheriff said.

x-x-x

Mulder recognized the number as Skinner’s private one as he punched it into the sheriff’s phone.

“Skinner.”

“It’s me,” Mulder said.

“Mulder. Have you heard about Chicago?”

“The sheriff here said something about a warehouse fire?” Mulder threaded his way carefully; he wasn’t sure how much of the real story the sheriff knew. He was just outside the inner office, talking with Annie, Brian, and Frohike. They could all be listening.

“Yes, that’s right. We’re concerned that Mr. and Mrs. Jordan may be in danger as a result of recent events. Can you bring them in?”

“Are you sending someone to meet us? I’m concerned that the interested parties already know their whereabouts.”

“We’ve asked Sheriff Barrett to help you out. He’s going to provide transportation and we’ll have you rendezvous with your protection at the closest safe house. I don’t think you want to stay in your present location any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“I copy. Where are we headed?”

“Call this number again when you get in range,” Skinner said. “I’ll give you the location.”

“Okay. We’d better get this show on the road.”

Mulder went back out to the outer office. “I guess you’ve gathered that you’re in some danger,” he told the Jordans. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave this afternoon. It takes time to get here, but I don’t know how much of a lead we’ve got. Sheriff, is there another way out of town other than the highway toward Eureka?”

“There are a lot of old logging roads around here,” Barrett said. “They’re in terrible condition, but they’re only known to the locals.”

“That rental car will never make it. What kind of car do you two have?” he asked Brian and Annie. “It’s not the best solution, but I don’t think we should head back to Eureka.”

“We’ve got a four wheel drive,” Annie said. “It’s practically packed. We were going on vacation,” she added a trifle wistfully.

“That’ll have to do,” Mulder said. “It’ll look like you’re just heading out early. Do you agree?”

Brian glanced at Annie and nodded. She seemed to be taking all this in stride; although he didn’t think that witness protection entailed erasing the protectee’s memories.

“I have a better idea,” Barrett said. “Bring it here and park it in the municipal garage, in the back. You can take my brother’s SUV. I’m keeping it for him while he’s on deployment. You can tell me where you’ve left it once you’re safely away.”

“That’s a great idea, Sheriff Barrett. Thank you.” Mulder said, surprised. “That’s going above and beyond interagency cooperation, I’d say.”

“Let’s just say I’m doing it for an old pal in the Marines,” Nate Barrett said, gesturing to the Marine Corps plaque on his wall.

Frohike grinned. “Semper Fi,” he said.

“Damn straight,” agreed Sheriff Barrett.

~*~

Chapter Thirteen

Scully paced back and forth. There was nothing she could do, but until Mulder called and let her know he was safe — that they were safe — she wouldn’t be able to settle.

“You know that we might not hear from them tonight,” Skinner said.

“Mulder will call,” Scully said. “As soon as they’re anywhere he can do so safely, he’ll call.”

It was close to midnight when he finally did.

“Mulder, where are you?” Scully asked.

“I’m at the safe house.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all just great. It’s hotter than hell here. They say it’s a dry heat, though.”

She breathed a silent prayer of thanks. “When will you be back?”

“That’s up to Skinner. Is he there?”

Scully handed the phone over to Skinner.

“Hey, Skinman, how’s it going? Did you send the stuff?”

“Don’t call me that. Yes, you should have it by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great, ’cause I think the natives here are restless. I don’t want them to think too hard about this. They might do a bolt. I don’t suppose you’ve found our friend yet?”

“He’s still at large.”

“He’ll crawl out of the woodwork eventually. We have something he wants.”

“Just make sure that we keep it,” Skinner said.

x-x-x

“What do you make of all this?” Annie whispered to Brian. They were alone in their room at a small motel outside of Redding. Mulder had told them they would be continuing on to Sacramento the next day, and from there back to Washington.

The ride from Perdita had been tense, and very long. They’d stopped in some small town for gas and snacks and then they’d pushed on to the “safe house” which turned out to be this fleabag motel.

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“Do you believe these people? Do you trust them?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have just left with them, except that Nate seemed to think that they were on the level. He said he’d gotten a call from the Deputy Director of the FBI. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He smiled a crooked smile. “They seem trustworthy. We’re not being held at gunpoint. I guess we had a choice, somewhere back there. I don’t know what my instincts are worth, though: since I don’t even know who I am.”

“What about this John Byers that they keep saying you are? Does he sound familiar?”

“I don’t recall ever hearing the name before,” Brian said. “But both Mr. Mulder and Mr. Frohike seem to know him. Me. If that’s who I really am.”

Someone knocked quietly at their door. “It’s me, Frohike,” a voice whispered loudly.

Brian opened the door.

“How’s everybody doing?” Frohike asked. He was such a strange little man, Annie thought. But he had a kind face.

“We’re okay, considering,” Brian said.

“Yeah, I know it’s weird,” Frohike said. “I’ve got a six-year gap in my memory. I have a friend who’s told me where I was and what I was doing, but I don’t remember any of it.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Brian asked.

“It pisses me off that I lost six years, yeah,” Frohike said. “But the life I was living, it wasn’t my real life. I guess I was happy enough in my ignorance, but I think on the whole I’m glad to have my old life back.”

“How can you say that if you don’t remember it?” Annie asked.

“That’s a fair point,” Frohike said. “But before, I was doing something worthwhile. I was fighting the good fight. For six years I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“I don’t know what I’m missing now,” Brian said, “I do know what I’d be leaving behind. I don’t know if that’s a fair trade-off.”

“I’m not here to convince you of that, man. But take some time to find out more about John Fitzgerald Byers before you decide.” He saluted them and left.

x-x-x

Connie sat glumly in front of the TV. Langly was nearby, as was Monica Reyes. No one felt like talking. The news said the fire had gutted the studio but no one knew what had caused the explosion yet.

Agent Doggett had come back with Monica, fetched Gibson, and left for someplace unspecified. The three of them were left waiting for something. Connie didn’t know, and she told herself she didn’t care, either.

She hadn’t been sure that she wanted to go back to Chicago. Now that it wasn’t an option, she wished she had. Maybe she could have saved the studio, somehow.

Monica’s phone rang. She stood up and left the lounge. Connie could hear her murmuring into the phone. She hung up before coming back in.

“Mulder has them,” she said to Langly. “They’re safe for now. They should be here tomorrow.”

Langly looked, if not pleased, a little less angry. This news did nothing for Connie. She didn’t know who they were talking about or why she should care. It seems that rescuing them was more important than her life, anyway.

Monica sat down next to her. “You have a place here, you know,” she said quietly. “For as long as you want. For always, if that’s what you want.” She put her arm around Connie’s shoulders. “I know this is hard for you.”

Connie put her face against Monica’s shoulder, and allowed herself to cry.

x-x-x

It was still dark outside when Mulder’s phone rang on the bedside table. “I don’t remember leaving an early wake-up call,” he mumbled.

“Mulder, it’s me,” said Scully.

“You do realize it’s three hours earlier here?” he teased. He looked out the front window; Frohike was sitting on a bench outside, keeping watch on their traveling companions.

“Do you think you can get to the airport in time for a noon flight?” she asked. “Skinner is having the tickets and other documents sent directly there.”

“I like that better than waiting here. I feel like our charges might change their minds,” he said.

“That’s a good reason, but there’s more to it,” Scully said. “Skinner authorized Agents Doggett and Reyes to check out the fire in Chicago,” Scully said, “and I think they found something there.”

“Did he tell you what?” Mulder asked, now fully awake.

“No, but I have an idea, and I bet you do, too. It’s not something anyone wants to talk about over the phone. Just get back as soon as you can.”

They were on the road an hour later. After a long day cooped up in the car the day before, no one felt much like talking. Mulder kept one eye on the rearview mirror. No one seemed to be following. The freeway was a long straight stretch, mainly through rice fields, olive orchards, and the occasional town. The tallest buildings around were grain silos.

His passengers dozed. No one had gotten much sleep, he was sure. He’d taken first watch and the Jordans’ light had been on very late. It was hard enough to make life or death decisions when you knew it was something you’d signed up for. How hard it must be for someone like Annie — or Byers, in his current persona — to be pulled into something like this out of the blue. It wasn’t going to get any easier for them, either.

They got to the airport in plenty of time. They left the SUV in the long term lot. Mulder would tell Skinner, who would let Sheriff Barrett know where to find it once they were safely home.

The four of them headed for the ticketing area. Even the normally loquacious Frohike was subdued. Mulder scanned for anyone who looked like they might be a contact. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw John Doggett and Gibson Praise approaching.

“Talk about calling out the Marines,” Mulder said. “How’d you get stuck with this detail?”

“What’s your saying?” Doggett said as he shook hands with Mulder. “Trust no one? I think Skinner is taking it to heart. We’re here to get you home. It was Scully’s idea to send Gibson. She thought he’d make a good ‘early warning system’.”

“Trust no one,” Mulder agreed. “It’s the phrase that’s sweeping the nation.”

~*~

Chapter Fourteen

“Home again,” Mulder said as they pulled into the drive of their house many hours later. Scully had met them at the airport and Doggett had volunteered to take Frohike back to headquarters while Mulder and Scully took the Jordans back to their house for the night.

Fletcher hadn’t been answering his phone and no one had heard from him since the fire. Scully suggested that it would be better to take Brian and Annie home and put them up for the night than to take them to the warehouse.

“This might be the last night that they get to spend together,” Scully said. “Let’s give them that, at least.”

It was a little awkward and surreal, probably more so for Annie and Brian than for them, Mulder reflected. He agreed with Scully that everyone might better face the decisions that had to be made in the morning.

Annie asked if she could borrow a computer when they were shown to their room.

Scully looked at Mulder. “Sure,” he said. “But I want to caution you that you shouldn’t log onto your email account, or let anyone know where you are. If there’s someone who needs to know you’re safe, let me know who they are and we’ll get word to them.”

“So we are in witness protection?” Annie asked.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” Scully said. “It’s better to be overly cautious until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I just want to check out some things that Mr. Frohike mentioned,” Annie said. “I won’t email anyone, and neither will Brian.”

Scully handed over a laptop. “Here, you can use this in your room if you want privacy.”

“That’s awfully trusting of you, Scully,” Mulder remarked. “Are you sure she won’t do something dumb, like send an email?”

“I think she’s protective of someone she loves,” Scully said, “and until she knows more about what’s going on, she’s going to be careful.”

x-x-x

Annie booted up the borrowed laptop. Brian sat on the bed next to her. He’d been subdued since leaving Perdita. After Frohike had left them the night before, they’d talked for a long time.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” Brian had told her. “Maybe it would have been better if –”

Annie stopped him by putting her fingers on his lips. “You are not allowed to say that it would have been better if we’d never met,” she said. “You didn’t talk me into anything; I knew that you were essentially a man with a mysterious past when I married you. For better or worse: and I don’t think you’re a bad person. As soon as we can get to a computer, I’m going to do what your friend suggested: find out what I can about the mystery man I married. This John Fitzgerald Byers.”

“You may not like what you find,” Brian warned her.

“I guess we’ll have to take that chance,” she’d said.

Now they were at the moment of truth. She brought up a search page and typed “John Fitzgerald Byers” into the search box.

The request returned both print and image results. The thumbnail images were small, and the first picture they pulled up was out of focus, but it was unmistakably Brian. A much younger Brian, with a beard; still, unmistakably him.

“Wow,” Brian said. He reached for the touchpad and clicked on one of the entries.

The title of the page was “In Memoriam,” and showed a picture of him, Frohike, and someone named Langly as well.

They silently read the entry, outlining the same events that Mulder had recounted to them two days before.

“We’ve both been trying to find out more information about Brian Jordan,” Annie said after a moment. “And the funny thing is there’s not much to find from before I met you. A couple of articles quoted that you wrote. Not much else. But look at all the information about John Fitzgerald Byers.”

She pulled up another page: a Wikipedia entry. Annie scrolled down the page slowly, stopping at a section entitle, “A Heroic End.”

“Quote,” she spoke softly in his ear. “‘We never gave up, we never will. In the end, if that’s the best they can say about us, it’ll do’.”

They stared at the screen for a while, taking it all in.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Brian said finally. He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face; they were a mirror of Annie’s.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll be right here,” she whispered. “And if one of us gets lost, we won’t give up. We’ll keep looking.”

With a sob, Brian pulled Annie close to him. Their lips found each other, and they kissed and clung to each other, saying goodbye.

x-x-x

The next morning, just as they were getting ready to leave for the warehouse, Mulder’s phone rang.

“Did you miss me?” said Morris Fletcher.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mulder asked

“Oh, around,” Fletcher replied vaguely. “Did you get your errand completed?”

“Yes, no thanks to you.”

“You said didn’t need my help. Where are you right now?”

“Heading to the office. Do you have the supplies?”

“Yes I do. But I don’t want to meet you there just yet. There’s a diner about a mile away from there. Can you — just you — meet me there in an hour?”

“I suppose so.” Mulder hung up and turned to Scully. “There’s a slight change of plans. Can you go directly to the place, and I’ll come by after I’ve met with Fletcher.”

“I want to go with you,” Scully said.

“Someone has to stay with our guests. I’ll get backup; don’t worry.”

x-x-x

They could see Fletcher from the door when they walked in. He didn’t look pleased that Skinner had come along.

“What part of ‘alone’ did you not understand?” he said sarcastically. “I’d just as soon not have more attention drawn to me right now.”

“Live with it,” Mulder suggested. They seated themselves in the booth, Skinner next to Fletcher, and Mulder on the other side, giving them a good view of the whole diner.

Once they were seated and the waitress delivered coffee, Mulder started in on Fletcher. “What the hell were you trying to prove?” he hissed. “You haven’t been answering your calls, and now this thing in Chicago? I told you to hold off.”

“Did you stop to think that maybe I’m not the one who did it?” Fletcher retorted. “Operation Wipe Out was a covert government program. They’re cutting their losses. They certainly wouldn’t have let you take over the site.”

“Then we’re all in danger,” Mulder said. “Unless you can call them off.”

“They’re not real pleased with me right now,” Fletcher said. “I’m trying to spin this the best possible way — they started remembering on their own, etc., etc. Even then there’s the possibility they’d want to permanently terminate the program.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe your pal Gibson would be able to tell you,” Fletcher said. “He can read minds, am I right?”

Skinner and Mulder looked at each other.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like he wasn’t part of a government program, too. Same as you, Mulder. Some were just more successful than others.”

“If we weren’t in public, you piece of –” Mulder growled.

“That’s exactly why we’re in public,” Fletcher smirked. “I have a deal to offer you. I have what you need to get your friend Byers back, but I want something in exchange. I’ll trade you: Gibson for the Gunmen. That’s three for one. That’s an excellent deal.”

“I don’t trade in humans,” Mulder said. “You never said that was part of the deal.”

“You never knew what any part of the deal was. I told you I could deliver your friends, and I’ve done it. What do I get in return?”

“Maybe I don’t shoot you,” Mulder said. “How’s that for a bargain?”

“You don’t have a gun,” Fletcher scoffed.

“Skinner does,” Mulder said.

Skinner began to reach inside his coat.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Fletcher shouted. Heads started to turn, and he lowered his voice. “What kind of lawless bunch of thugs are you? You can’t do that! You’re supposed to be the good guys!”

“You’re right, we can’t,” Skinner said. “However, I’m guessing we could probably get a charge of kidnapping or unlawful imprisonment to stick. So if you don’t mind your p’s and q’s, I’ll have you locked up and throw away the key.”

“I’ve half a mind to just walk out of here,” Fletcher huffed.

“Go ahead,” Skinner said. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”

“I do,” Fletcher said. “You’re the good guys, and you don’t have the balls it takes to stick it to the other side. You won’t play dirty, and that’s why you lose.”

“I didn’t mean us,” Skinner said. “You say you weren’t involved in the fire in Chicago. Do you know for sure that your ‘agency’ was?”

Fletcher was silent.

Skinner went on. “Mulder, you haven’t even heard the whole story yet. Doggett and Reyes found evidence of super soldiers at the burn site. We believe that they were either involved in the destruction of the studio, or someone was trying to destroy them.”

Fletcher still didn’t speak. From the look in his eyes he hadn’t known that either.

“So that’s why Scully asked Gibson to come to California with Agent Doggett,” Mulder said to Skinner. “He’s the closest thing we have to a super soldier detector.”

“If you don’t think the good guys aren’t capable of sticking it to the bad guys,” Skinner said to Fletcher, “wait and see.”

x-x-x

The atmosphere was subdued at the warehouse when Mulder arrived with Fletcher in tow. Introductions had been made, and there had been some awkward small talk. Now Annie and Brian sat in the lounge with Scully. The others had made themselves scarce while she talked to them about the procedure.

“Do you mean I’ll forget everything?” Byers asked. He clutched at Annie’s hand. “It will be as if Brian Jordan never existed?”

“So far, that seems to be the way it works,” Scully said. She looked from Byers to Annie. “I wish I could tell you something different. But it’s early days yet. Neither Langly nor Frohike have recalled anything about their other identities, but it’s only a short time since they’ve recovered their original memories. That could change.”

“Are there any alternatives?” Annie asked.

“Deputy Director Skinner has offered to put you both into witness protection. Whether or not you can be protected indefinitely is unclear. There may be other agencies involved. If you decide to go through with this now, at least it will be on your own terms.” Scully smiled sadly. “I can speak from experience that it’s not much fun living life looking over your shoulder all the time. Even if you know who you are.”

She stood up, and Brian the gentleman stood up as well. “I’m going to leave you two to discuss this.” She left the lounge and went into the kitchen where the others waited.

“What’s going on?” Mulder asked.

“They’re talking it over,” Scully said. “I don’t know, Mulder. It seems so unfair. They have a life together. To take everything away, not just from Byers, but from Annie, too: it’s wrong.”

“I agree,” Mulder said. “But what’s the alternative? A life on the run, or,” he glanced at Fletcher, “apprehension by this shadow agency?”

Brian appeared at the door, Annie by his side. “We’ve decided,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Fifteen

They arrived at the hospital in caravan. Scully drove Annie and Brian. Mulder followed with Fletcher, Frohike, Langly, Gibson, and Connie. No one wanted to wait at the warehouse for the outcome. Scully had tried to convince them that not everyone had to come to the hospital. In the end, however, it didn’t seem fair that anyone be left out.

Only Annie was allowed to go into the room with Brian and Scully. The rest were asked to wait in a small conference room that Nurse Chavez had reserved as a “family waiting room” at Scully’s request.

Annie did her best not to cry as Brian was attached to various monitors by Dr. Scully.

“You’re going to get sleepy,” Scully explained to Brian, “and, when you wake up, you’ll remember who you were before.”

Brian nodded. “Can Annie stay with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Scully said. Her own throat was tight. How many times had she sat by Mulder’s hospital bed, watching and waiting for him to wake up and see her? It wouldn’t be like that for Annie. Her partner was being taken away from her, possibly forever.

She blinked back her own tears and injected the antidote into the drip. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” she said, and left them alone.

Brian smiled up at Annie. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll do my best to remember that.”

“I love you too,” Annie said. “And I’ll never forget.” She leaned down and kissed him, and felt his lips return the pressure before they relaxed into unconsciousness.

x-x-x

Down the hall in the conference room, the rest waited for word on their friend.

Frohike was telling Langly about finding Byers in Perdita, and about Annie. “Don’t you think she looks like Susanne?” Frohike asked Langly.

“Dude, how can you tell what she’s like? You’ve known her about three days.” Langly said. “Just because they’re both blonde doesn’t make her like Susanne.”

“Blonde, and a scientist,” Frohike said. “She was teaching high school science, but she studied microbiology.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Langly said. “Susanne was a dream, anyway. Byers knew he’d probably never see her again.”

“Well, Frohike said, “Annie seems nice, and she seems to love Byers – – I was never sure that Susanne did.”

“You were just jealous,” Langly accused.

“No way,” Frohike said, hand on his heart. “I’ve always loved Agent Scully. Nothing can turn me from that love. It’s a pure and devoted love, the physical is not necessary.”

“Only because Scully would probably kick your ass if you tried anything.”

“Who’s Susanne?” Annie asked from the door. She’d sat with Brian for more than an hour. Scully was in his room now, checking his vital signs.

“No one important,” Frohike said quickly.

“Please tell me,” Annie asked.

“She was someone Byers knew a long time ago,” Frohike said. “They weren’t dating or anything.”

“No, Byers just had a massive crush on her,” Langly interjected. “Frohike thinks you look like her.”

“She was a damsel in distress. Byers helped her out. She disappeared. She came back, and needed help again. Byers helped her out again. We helped her disappear. End of story,” Frohike said. “It was more than ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Annie said. That wasn’t something that had been mentioned on the websites they’d looked at together. But of course Brian had had a life as John Byers. These two knew more than any website would know. “Can you tell me more about Bri — John Byers?” she asked.

“What do you want to know?” Langly asked.

“Whatever you can tell me,” Annie said.

When Scully checked in on the group in the room, Langly and Frohike were regaling Annie with tales of their friend.

“It’s a little like a wake,” she remarked to Mulder out in the hallway.

“A little,” he agreed. “What do you think will happen when Byers wakes up?”

“I don’t think he’s going to know Annie,” she replied. “It’s going to be hard for her.”

Mulder put his arms around Scully. “I know.”

Scully rested her head against Mulder’s chest. “I wish there was something we could do for her.”

“Well,” said Mulder, “we can give her something to put her back up against. I have an idea.”

x-x-x

When Annie checked in on Brian again, Scully was by his bedside. She nodded, and whispered, “Why don’t you get some sleep,” and indicated the other bed in the room. Mulder was dozing in a reclining chair nearby.

She shook her head and wandered back to the waiting room. Someone had brought in a couple of thermal containers of coffee and hot water.

Connie sat there alone, stirring a cup of what looked like cocoa. She gave a little half-smile. “Want some hot chocolate?” she offered.

Annie nodded and Connie got another mug and filled it from the hot water container, handing it and a packet of hot chocolate mix to Annie.

“Where did everybody go?” Annie asked.

Connie shrugged. “That Fletcher guy said he had to go, and the rest went down to see if the cafeteria was still open.”

“Which one was Fletcher?” Annie asked. She’d been introduced to everyone hurriedly, but her mind had been on other things.

“He’s the suit with the creepy smile,” Connie said. “I don’t like him,” she added unnecessarily.

Annie nodded. “I’m sorry, I know we were introduced,” she said to Connie, “I don’t know your connection to the other people here. Did you work with them before?”

Connie shook her head. “No, the one they call Langly — he was my boss until he remembered who he really is. Then the bastards burned down his business.”

“These people? The ones here now?” Annie asked, shocked.

“No, except I think that Fletcher guy might have. He kidnapped Roger and brought him here.”

“I hear he’s the one responsible for the guys regaining their memories?”

“Yeah, and losing them in the first place,” Connie confirmed. “Langly used to be Roger Mintage. Now he doesn’t remember any of it. He doesn’t remember me, and I saw him every day for nearly two years.”

“He doesn’t remember anything?”

“That’s what he says. The doctor lady, Scully, says that maybe someday he will. No one knows for sure.”

Annie stirred her chocolate for a few minutes. “Is that why you’re here? Do you hope he’ll remember?”

Connie shrugged. “They told me I could stay as long as I like. Langly’s teaching me stuff — he’s a real computer genius. So I guess I have a job.”

Annie noticed that Connie hadn’t answered. She understood that. She had her own unspoken hopes, her own unanswered questions. Right now, nothing seemed real. Until she knew for sure what was happening to her Brian, she couldn’t think clearly.

x-x-x

Finally too exhausted to do anything else, Annie went back to Brian’s room.

Dr. Scully stood at Brian’s bedside. The monitors seemed to be beeping more more quickly than they had before. Brian was turning his head from side to side and his eyelids were fluttering.

“He’s doing fine,” Scully whispered. She gestured to Annie to come stand by the bed. She pointed to the monitors, explaining the activity. “He’s dreaming right now.”

Annie hesitantly reached her hand out to smooth the hair on his forehead, looking at Scully.

“It’s okay,” Scully said. “You can touch him.”

Instead of touching his head, Annie put her hand over his. “What’s he dreaming?” She didn’t want to think of him having nightmares without being there to comfort him.

“I don’t know,” Scully said. “I don’t think it’s nightmares. He’d be under much greater stress if it was.”

“Br- Brian used to have nightmares, sometimes,” Annie said. She didn’t want to look away from him. His face was so familiar, so dear to her. Could it be possible that he wouldn’t know her when he woke up?

“I know this is hard for you,” Dr. Scully said gently. “We won’t let anything happen to him. Try to get some rest.”

It was too late, Annie thought. Something was already happening to him.

Scully touched her shoulder. “I think you should try to sleep,” she said. “I’ll wake you if I see any change.”

Annie nodded and went to the empty bed. She lay down and turned her back to the low light by Brian’s bed. She didn’t think she’d sleep. In a few seconds, she did.

x-x-x

“Annie.” Someone was shaking her awake. “Annie, he’s waking up.”

She opened her eyes to see Mulder. Scully was again — still? — at Brian’s bedside. Out in the hall, others were quietly milling around. Although no natural light could be seen in this room, she sensed that it was morning.

“Brian?” Scully was saying. “How are you?”

Over Mulder’s shoulder, Annie could see Brian’s eyelids fluttering. For a few tense seconds, no one spoke. Brian’s eyes opened. He reached his hand up to his chin and frowned slightly, then tried to sit up.

“Agent Scully, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What did you call me?” he said. “Where am I?” Then he went pale, evidently remembering. “I thought we died,” he whispered. “It felt like dying.”

“That’s because you almost did,” Fletcher said from the doorway. “But I saved your asses.” He, Langly, and Frohike were all standing just outside the infirmary.

“You’re the one who got us there in the first place, you scuzzball,” Frohike said.

“All of you, out of here. Now.” Scully said firmly.

“Aye aye, Nurse Ratched,” Fletcher said.

“Hey, show some respect,” Frohike said.

Mulder went to the door. “You heard Dr. Scully. Visiting hours are noon to eight. Only close family members allowed.”

Annie stood, frozen. She was afraid to move, either toward the door, or closer to the bed.

“It’s okay, John,” Scully was saying to Brian. “There was an accident. You survived it. So did Frohike and Langly. They’re both fine.”

Byers drew a breath of relief and looked around. “Are they here?”

“They’re outside,” Mulder said, “I think you should rest a while before seeing them.”

Byers nodded. He felt his chin again. “Did you have to shave off my beard?” he asked. “I’ve heard they can interfere with anesthesia masks.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Scully told him. “You should probably rest now.”

Annie thought she might be able to sneak out after he’d closed his eyes, but the slight movement she made caught his attention. He tried to sit up, and smiled politely at her.

“I didn’t see you standing there,” he said. “Forgive me for not getting up. I’m John Byers. Are you working with Agent Scully?”

“We’ll explain it all later,” Scully said. “Get some rest.”

Byers obediently closed his eyes again.

Mulder led Annie out of the room. As soon as they got to the lounge, however, the rest of the group surrounded them.

“How is he?” Langly wanted to know.

“Does he know who he is?” asked Frohike.

“He’s fine,” Mulder said. “Scully’s checking him out right now. You know the drill. He needs to rest for a while. Hold your horses.”

He took Annie back out to the hallway, away from the others. He turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Maybe you’d like to go back to the house for a while? There’s not much privacy here.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, which elicited a smile from Mulder.

“I don’t believe that from you, any more than when I hear it from Scully, but never mind. If the guys — or anyone — bug you too much, let me know.”

Scully came out of Brian’s room. “He’s resting. Annie, I’m so sorry. It might change — he might remember you later.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m going to try and be realistic about this. He may never –” her voice broke a little — “never remember our life together. I have to get used to that.”

“When he wakes up again, we’ll have to tell him what we know about his life before,” Scully said. “Do you want to be there?”

“Don’t you think he’d feel obligated in some way? I don’t want that. I loved him as Brian, and from what his friends have told me, I’d like him as John Byers, too. But if Brian and John are similar, I also know that he’d feel an obligation to me if you tell him we were married. Better to leave it alone. We knew each other, that’s all.”

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. “It’s up to you,” Scully said finally. “But I think you’re wrong.”

x-x-x

Several hours later, Byers asked for Annie. She went to the doorway of his room, and was surprised to see him dressed. He’d been sitting in an armchair, but he stood up when she entered. He looked like Brian, and yet not like Brian. There was no recognition of her in his eyes.

“How are you?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure what to call him.

“Doctor Scully says I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve had bloodwork, a CAT scan, and my heart and EEG readings are all within normal ranges.” He smiled ruefully. “But other than that, I don’t know how I am.”

Annie nodded. She didn’t know how she was, either.

“I know you’re Annie,” he said. “And I know you knew me as Brian Jordan. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” Annie said. She’d twisted her wedding ring off a while ago; now she fingered it in her pocket.

“I hope you’ll call me John,” he said. He waited until she sat in the other chair and then sat down. “I also hope you’ll tell me about that life,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

“Do you remember anything?” Annie asked. A small seed of hope sprouted.

“Not much, just a general feeling. I think I was happy. They said I was living in a small town in Northern California. I was a newspaper editor.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Not that far off from what I was doing before.”

“You were a crusading editor. You were always writing editorials about things that you cared about, and you made others care. Sometimes you made people mad, too.”

“What kinds of things did I write about?”

“Preserving small-town life, while not rejecting everything modern. Learning to distinguish between important things and trivial things.” Annie smiled. “You did this piece on the road repairs that the town needed. I thought that the Rabble would come after you with pitchforks.”

“You call the townspeople rabble?” he asked, looking confused.

“No,” Annie said. “That’s the bunch at Donna’s cafe. They call themselves the Rabble.”

“Oh,” he said. It was obvious to Annie that none of these things rang a bell. “Before — before I was Brian Jordan, I wrote about the things I thought mattered, too.”

“What kind of things?” Annie asked.

He thought a moment. “About doing what’s right, not what’s popular. About exposing things that were wrong.” He smiled a little, remembering. “I made people mad then, too.”

“Did you like what you were doing?”

“I did. I felt what I was doing was important, that what I said needed to be said. If I could make only one person think a little differently about our world and what was going on in it, that was something.”

“I’ve heard that you did more than that. I read that you saved a lot of people by preventing a terrorist attack. You kept a dangerous toxin from being released.”

“They told me the same thing. I remember it. That’s something I wish I could forget.”

“But you remember that you’re John Byers, and you don’t remember anything about Brian Jordan.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” he admitted. “It’s funny, I used to dream of living in a small town. Of living in a house with a white picket fence around it.”

“That was your house.” She couldn’t help the tears starting in her eyes.

Byers looked at her. “Just my house?” he asked gently.

Unable to speak, Annie shook her head.

“In my dream, I wasn’t the only one living there.”

“They told me about Susanne,” Annie blurted out.

He looked grave. “Frohike and Langly like to gossip. Sometimes they have ideas about things that aren’t quite correct.”

“I’m not Susanne. I couldn’t be.”

“But we were married, weren’t we?”

She nodded. “They weren’t supposed to tell you. I don’t want you to feel…like I’m a left over obligation.”

“I guessed.” He held up his hand and she could see the pale line where his ring used to be. “You may know me as Brian, but I think that one thing hasn’t changed: I believe in the truth, and in telling the truth.”

“Then you tell me about Susanne,” she insisted. Knowing that her Brian had lived another life was bad enough. To also find that he had loved someone else was like discovering an old flame had moved back into town. This was his reality now, and she was not a part of it.

“Susanne is a real person. The idea of a life with her was a fantasy,” Byers said. “I had an idealized view of the world, one I wished was true. The Susanne I wished for was part of that world.” He shook his head. “The reality was different. She lived in a dangerous world. When our paths crossed the first time, I had no idea how dangerous. She was the reason I met my friends, and why I decided it was important to expose the truth, no matter what.”

“It’s hard to be idealistic when people can take your life away,” Annie said bitterly.

“That’s true. But here’s something that no one else told you. Maybe they don’t remember. We chose to do what we did. No one coerced us into preventing the release of the toxin. We made a decision to do our best. We knew what the consequences were. We traded our three lives for the lives of the many. Then Morris Fletcher somehow managed to save us, and in return, he wanted us to participate in this program.”

“You mean he blackmailed you into it.”

“No. He saved us first, and then asked for our assistance. It turned out to be a deal with the Devil, but he did save us. Every deal comes at a cost.”

“I didn’t ask for this deal!” Annie cried. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

This wasn’t going well at all, she thought. She was saying exactly the words she’d told herself she wouldn’t say. Even if he hadn’t been coerced into becoming Brian Jordan in the first place, she was using guilt to try to force him to become Brian again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. I know this is hard for you. You didn’t ask for this, either.”

Byers shook his head. “Neither of us did.” I wish I could remember you. I wish things had turned out differently.”

“What do we do now?” she asked through her tears.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Sixteen

Scully kept Byers in the hospital that night. She suggested that Annie go back to the house, but Annie insisted on staying at the hospital for as long as Byers was there.

The others had all gone back to the warehouse once they’d had a chance to see Byers for themselves. Neither Langly nor Frohike seemed anxious to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. They used the excuse that they wanted to get started on better security for the warehouse.

“I’m keeping Byers here an extra day,” Scully told Mulder.

“Why? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, I think he’s recovering the same as Langly and Frohike. I’m doing some extra bloodwork, and I was able to reserve a small amount of the antidote that I’m going to have analyzed.”

“Are you going to analyze it here?”

“I won’t do the analysis personally, I have someone else in mind.”

“Who?”

Scully just smiled. “Let’s talk about it a little later.”

“The enigmatic Dr. Scully,” Mulder said, teasing.

“You’re a smart man, Mulder. If you think about it a little, I bet you can figure it out.”

x-x-x

At the end of the second day in the hospital, Scully told Byers that she was releasing him. “You’re welcome to come back to the house.”

Byers shook his head. “I think I’d rather go back to the warehouse. I don’t want to make Annie feel worse.”

“I understand.” Scully put her hand on Byers’ arm. “Give it some time. This is difficult for both of you.”

“Probably more for her than for me, because I don’t remember,” Byers said. “But I can see how hurt she is.”

Annie elected to go back to the house with Mulder and Scully. Fletcher had taken himself off sometime earlier, though Mulder had extracted a promise from him to meet at the warehouse the next day.

Skinner had also promised to come, and would bring Doggett and Reyes to report more fully on what they’d found in Chicago. It would be their first full strategy meeting.

“What happens to me now?” Annie asked Mulder and Scully on the way back to their house. She’d spent some more time with John, at his request, but their conversations had been awkward and stilted. It seemed like every topic was a potential land mine.

“I think it’s too soon for you to make a decision about what you want to do,” Scully said. “Give it a little time.”

“I can’t go back home, can I?” Annie asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Mulder said. “You really are in witness protection now. You wouldn’t be safe.”

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Scully added. “I hear you have a background in microbiology. I work at the University; I’m sure we could figure out a position for you there.”

“Do I have to change my name, become someone else like Brian — John did?” Annie asked.

“We’re still trying to assess the threat,” Mulder said. “At a minimum, we don’t think you’d be safe going back home. We don’t know what the people running the program that Byers and the others were in might do. At the very least, they might use you to try and get to Byers.”

“I don’t see why,” Annie said. “He has no obligation to me. He doesn’t remember me.” She was proud of herself for not bursting into tears when she said it.

“Of course he has an obligation to you,” Scully contradicted. “Even if not you personally, he would never want anyone to come to harm because of him.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “I used to tease Brian about being a secret superhero. Now it seems like it’s true.”

“Only the saving the world part,” Mulder said. He pulled the SUV into the garage.

Scully gave him a look. “Mulder –”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Mulder said to Annie. “There are some things you don’t know yet. It’s too late tonight to get into them.”

As they entered the house, Scully said. “It’s been a long couple of days. I think we all need a good night’s sleep.”

“I guess I’ll say goodnight then,” Annie said awkwardly. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Scully watched Annie slowly climb the stairs. “I think I should talk to Annie,” she said to Mulder.

“Do you want me to come talk to her too?” Mulder asked.

Scully reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve had a long couple of days, too; go on up, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mulder went on ahead as Scully knocked softly on Annie’s door. “Annie, it’s Dana. Can I talk to you for a minute?” There was no answer.

Annie didn’t look up when Scully opened the door. She sat at the desk with the borrowed laptop, looking at the entry she’d shown Brian, when he was still Brian and not John Byers. The face was so familiar: the kind, intelligent eyes and serious expression. He looked cute with a beard. She remembered teasing Brian about growing one, and he never would.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Scully asked. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t think I can think of anything more to say,” Annie told her. “This is so far outside anything I’ve ever experienced. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I understand. It’s far outside my experience too. I’ve always relied on science,” Scully said. “I’ve seen and heard of so many things I couldn’t explain by any science I knew. But that’s the way I’ve always approached them. With your background, I think that will help you, too. Maybe not tonight. When you’re ready. It’s a good way to begin to deal with the unexplainable. You start looking for the pieces that make sense, and go from there.”

“None of it makes sense right now. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“Just — don’t give up hope. We’re going to do our best to figure out what was used to restore their memories. The memories weren’t erased, only hidden somehow. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out a way to restore their other memories, too.”

“How can you be sure?” Annie asked.

“About restoring their memories, I’m not sure. But I don’t think you can ever give up hope. Without it, nothing is possible. But with it, sometimes seemingly impossible odds can be overcome.” Scully fingered the cross at her throat. “Don’t give up,” she repeated.

x-x-x

Mulder turned and smiled as Scully walked into their room. “Alone at last,” he said softly.

Scully walked into his arms and hugged him tightly. “We got them back, Scully,” Mulder murmured into her hair. “We got them back.” They held each other close for a long while, neither speaking.

Finally Scully looked up at Mulder. “We did. They’re alive, against all the odds, and they seem to be okay. Except that they’ve lost six years.”

“It has to be asked. Do you think we did the right thing, Scully? Was it worth the price?”

“I don’t know. You said yourself once that sometimes the costs are too high. I think it depends on who you ask. To Annie, or to Connie, I’m sure it’s not. If Langly, Frohike, and Byers knew what they’d left behind, they might not think so either. Would we have done the same thing, knowing what we know now?”

“I don’t know either. We tried to give Byers a choice, but that choice was taken from him. Maybe we should have left well enough alone.”

“But once we knew, could we have left them alone? I don’t believe it was an option. I suppose you could say that the ends justify the means, or if we hadn’t intervened, they might have been used for more nefarious purposes. There’s no way to know for sure. Sometimes I think we only know afterward.”

“I guess we could have the fate versus free will argument again. Or do you mean that history will judge us?”

“Maybe. I just know that not doing anything was not an option. We can’t afford to sit back and wait for things to unfold.”

“It seems like you’re arguing from my side,” Mulder said with a small smile.

“I’ve always been on your side. Even when it didn’t appear that I was. Someone has to keep you honest.”

“I know. Even if it took me a long time to win you over, it was worth the fight.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat,” he murmured.

“So would I,” Scully said, kissing him back. “And we may have to, before this is over.”

Down the hall in the guest bedroom, Annie fell into bed, not bothering to do more than take off her shoes. She missed Brian more than she could express. Is this what being widowed felt like? No wonder her father hadn’t wanted to go on without her mother.

Dana Scully had told her not to give up. What did she know about loss? Her man hadn’t been stolen from her. She sat there so calmly, talking about science and hope and not giving up. She couldn’t think straight. She still didn’t know what was going on. She had to rely on her hosts right now; she had no choice. She’d been left with nothing: no husband, no home. She wouldn’t be Annie any more either, she supposed. But she’d still have Annie’s memories. It was completely unfair.

Dana Scully had said something about working in her lab. If she couldn’t go home again, she would need a job, and a place to stay. She didn’t want to just hang around hoping that Brian — she had to remember to call him John — would remember her.

Maybe this was the dream, and she’d wake up back in Perdita, with Brian beside her…

The pillow still smelled faintly of Brian. She hugged it to herself, and tried to sleep.

x-x-x

Back at the warehouse, Byers tried to sleep too. He could almost believe that the intervening six years had never happened. There were enough changes in themselves and their surroundings that none of them could quite manage that, though Frohike and Langly were giving it their best effort. He should, too. He was still having trouble processing everything that had happened. They were too, even though Langly was acting a little superior, having been the first one whose memory was recovered.

Six years, completely obliterated. He was married, or had been married, anyway. He had no memory of it, except as a memory of a daydream: the kind of daydream he used to have about Susanne.

Would Annie be staying around? Did he even want her to? They’d had a couple of awkward conversations. He’d gotten up on his high horse about something. He hardly knew what he was saying. He just kept looking at her, trying to remember her. She seemed to know him. Except he wasn’t who she thought he was. He wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with and married. He’d made her cry, and he felt bad about that.

After several minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up and wandered out to the lounge. The television was on, but the two occupants were fast asleep. Connie was on the sofa and Gibson slept in a recliner, his glasses still perched on his nose. Byers found a throw and put it over Connie, and carefully took Gibson’s glasses off and placed them on the table next to him.

He could see a light coming from the kitchen and heard low voices. Langly sat at the kitchen table. Frohike was at the stove.

“Hey Byers,” he greeted him. “Want some huevos rancheros? There’s plenty. And there are brews in the fridge.”

Byers got a beer and a glass from the cupboard and poured the beer into it carefully, keeping the foam at a minimum. Langly watched him and shook his head.

Langly still looked strange. His hair was growing back, although it stuck up like a bristle brush at the moment. His glasses were different, too. But he had on a Ramones tee shirt that someone had found for him, and he was banging away at a laptop, muttering to himself, pushing his glasses up when they slid down his nose.

“What are you working on?” Byers asked him.

“I’m still trying to figure out who that son of a bitch works for,” Langly said. “I think he’s due some serious payback, and I want to know if there are others like us out there.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got a point, Langly,” Frohike said. “But first things first. It’s time to circle the wagons. There’s been some weird shit going down, and we have to get to the bottom of it. Mulder’s counting on us. As is the beautiful Dr. Scully.”

“Look who’s talking: the Gnome that Time Forgot,” Langly said. “Okay, Rip van Langly,” Frohike says. “Let’s see some of that kung fu you’re always saying you have. Time’s a-wasting.”

“Gentlemen,” Byers interrupted. “We have no time to lose. Let’s get to the business at hand.”

-end-

Frohike: Buddy, fight the good fight. Langly: Both of you. Byers: Never give up.

-From “Jump the Shark”, the Gunmen’s ‘last words’.

x-x-x

Author’s Notes: I’ve only been able to watch “JtS” once, and if I’d been a spoiler hound at the time, I might not have watched it even then. I think I knew from the moment the credits rolled at the end that the Gunmen weren’t really dead, but where did they go? What have they been doing? The idea of giving them secret identities occurred early on. I just needed to figure out who would have helped them and why. Enter Morris Fletcher, who to paraphrase Dr. Nacimiento, “practically writes himself.” He is a lot of fun to write, the big lug.

It was my good fortune that Wendy was willing to beta the story. She has been extremely helpful and patient. Thanks also to Donna H. who offered some suggestions and encouragement along the way, and to the Posse for their cheering me on.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

msnsc21@yahoo.com

Isolation by ML Part 2 of 2 Headers and disclaimers in Part 1

Chapter Ten

The next morning, wary of what might happen between Fletcher and Langly, Mulder had suggested that he drop Langly off at Best Buy to do some computer shopping.

“Best Buy?” Langly said disdainfully. “I don’t buy computers off the shelf.” Instead, Langly directed him to a disreputable looking computer store not far from the warehouse, which Langly seemed to recognize. Mulder had handed over a credit card with some trepidation, promising to come pick him up in a couple of hours.

When Morris Fletcher finally showed up, alone, he was glad he’d left Langly off at the store. Fletcher’s news was not pleasant. Frohike had disappeared.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Mulder yelled.

“He’s not where I left him,” Fletcher shrugged. “No one seems to know where he’s gone.”

“He’s not just a package you left in a bus locker somewhere, he’s a human being!”

“I also didn’t have a tracking device on him, although that’s certainly a consideration for the future,” Fletcher said thoughtfully.

“Tell me where you expected him to be,” Mulder demanded.

“I don’t think so. Besides, if he’s not there, what good would it do you to know?”

“I am a trained investigator.”

The door alarm rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Fletcher murmured. He smirked at Mulder. “Aren’t you going to get the door?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Mulder promised as he checked the monitor.

Doggett and Reyes stood at the door, with a young woman standing with them. He buzzed the door to let them in.

“This is Connie Philips,” Monica said. “She’s Roger Mintage’s assistant. We told her we’d found him, but that he’s lost his memory.”

Connie looked like a rocker chick. She had the requisite spiky hair style, black with blonde streaks and kohl-rimmed eyes, giving the impression she’d been up all night. Her jeans were authentically worn, as were her high-tops. She wore a tee shirt for a band Mulder had never heard of.

“There’s no Roger Mintage here,” Fletcher said officiously. “Mr. Mulder, can I speak to you privately for a moment?”

Mulder gestured toward the kitchen.

“Are you out of your mind, bringing her here?” Fletcher demanded. “How did you find the studio, anyway?”

“We found a business card in Langly’s pocket. We were investigating. It’s what I do.”

“There is no Roger Mintage any longer. By the time that girl gets back to Chicago, it will look as if Mintage Sound had never existed. There will be a fire, or something suitably catastrophic. Mintage’s name will live on as a footnote in the music business, another tragic early death.”

“You can’t do this!” Mulder yelled, not caring if anyone heard him or not. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

“What are we supposed to do with the girl?” Fletcher hissed. “We don’t know anything about her. She could be a spy.”

“I’m going to take that chance. You don’t get a vote.”

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” Fletcher muttered.

“I’m telling you, if you don’t want me to have Skinner just lock you up and throw away the key, call off whatever clean-up operation you’ve got going on. We’ll figure out something else.”

“Well, we could always do a memory wipe on the girl.”

“Not an option. Don’t even think about it. We’ll handle this our way.”

They came back out to the main room, where the others stood trying to look as if they hadn’t heard every word.

“Roger’s here, isn’t he?” Connie asked. “He’s okay, right? This guy,” she looked daggers at Fletcher, “didn’t hurt him?”

“That remains to be seen,” Mulder said. “I’m just about to go get L…uh, Roger. You guys sit tight. Keep an eye on our friend here,” he said, gesturing to Fletcher.

The atmosphere got a little strained once Mulder left. Monica took Connie over to the area set up as a lounge and tried to make her sit down, but she was restless and tense. Her eyes tracked Fletcher wherever he went. “I don’t like that guy,” she said softly to Monica.

“I don’t blame you,” Monica whispered back.

Langly was waiting at the door of the computer place when Mulder pulled up, several boxes of equipment around him. “This’ll do for a start,” he said, handing over the credit card and the receipts.

Mulder whistled. “This had better be some computer.” He helped Langly load the boxes into the back of the SUV. There were several hard drives and monitors, and lots of cables, keyboards, and other peripherals.

“I’ve got some catching up to do,” Langly said. “I’m six years behind on everything. Not to mention that security at the warehouse sucks. I think you need to do something about that right away.”

“We installed cameras at the entrance, we use key cards, and there are motion sensor alarms. Do you think that having six locks on the door is better than one really good one?”

“No, I think six really good locks are better than one. I think that you need a lot more security than you realize. But Frohike is the real expert on that.”

“Yeah. But right now no one seems to know where he is.”

“Not even Fletcher?” Langly said incredulously.

Mulder shook his head no. “That’s what he says. I’m not sure I believe much of what he tells me. I don’t know what his motive would be for lying about that.”

“Maybe he’s holding him for ransom, and he’s upping the price?”

“He hasn’t asked for anything — yet. He seems to want asylum. He’s a shifty bastard.”

“You’ve dealt with plenty of shifty bastards before. Just make sure you’re keeping an eye on him. I’ll see what I can find out once I get the systems set up. I bet I can find out more and faster than any of those guys Skinner’s got working for him.”

“You’re on. The sooner we find out what’s going on, the better.” He paused, thinking about what he needed to say. “Langly, before we get back, I’ve got to tell you something.” He explained about Connie and the business back in Chicago. Langly didn’t ask any questions. He sat silently until Mulder finished his narrative, then shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of the place, or her,” Langly said. “But I’ll be nice to her.”

“One other thing,” Mulder said. “Morris Fletcher is here, too.”

“Let the ass-kicking begin,” Langly said grimly. “I’ve always been non-violent, but for him I’d make an exception.”

“Just remember what Scully said. We still have to get Frohike and Byers back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Langly muttered.

“Roger!” Connie jumped up as Mulder and Langly came in. “You’re okay.” She stopped short of hugging him, but didn’t seem to know what to do with her arms. She sort of hugged herself and then let them drop, standing awkwardly in front of Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said uncertainly. He had no memory of this skinny young woman with the dyed black hair and multiple piercings, but he’d told Mulder he’d play along. He caught sight of Morris Fletcher lurking in the background. Before he could say or do anything, Mulder stepped in.

“Let’s give them a chance to talk,” Mulder suggested to Fletcher and the others. He herded everyone else into the kitchen, leaving Connie and Langly in the lounge.

“Hey,” Connie said to Langly. He sat down on the sofa, and Connie perched on the edge of the armchair next to it.

“Hey yourself,” Langly said. “You’re Connie, right?”

“Yeah,” Connie said. “They told me you have amnesia, so you don’t remember stuff. What is this place? I mean, I know it’s a warehouse, but what’s it for?”

“It’s — I don’t know what it is any more. I used to live here.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Connie said. “It’s like your place in Chicago, except not fixed up. The — the recording studio; Mintage Sound. Do you remember?”

“I had a studio in Chicago?” Langly shook his head. It was like she was telling him about a dream she’d had, and he was in it. It wasn’t his dream.

“You still do,” Connie assured him. “These two guys came — a man and a woman — they say they’re FBI, and they showed me badges. They told me that you’d been kidnapped and lost your memory. So I locked the place up, set all the alarms, and came to find you. If you don’t remember how to get there, I can show you.”

“I don’t remember anything. I’m sorry, I don’t even remember you.”

She wouldn’t cry. She never cried. Roger Mintage had been her boss as well as a friend. She’d never had a family before Roger. Now he was gone too.

“That’s okay,” she said, although her throat was aching. “I was your assistant. I know how to do most things around the studio now. I could probably help you remember how to do stuff.”

She was so earnest under her tough looks, almost desperate. Langly wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. He sure didn’t want her to cry. He said something almost at random.

“When I was a kid, I thought it would be fun to have a recording studio. It’s cool to be in a band. I think it’s even cooler to work with a lot of bands, you know?”

“Yeah. You were good at it, too. Maybe once you go back, and see it, you’ll remember.” She’d taught herself not to want much, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting this. Please make him Roger again. Please.

“I think I need to stay here for now. But you know how to handle things, right? Maybe you could keep things going until I come back.”

“Really?” She brightened a little. “I can do that, just until you can come back. ‘Cause you will come back won’t you?”

“It sounds like you know your stuff. You’d have to show me what to do all the time. Do you think you could run it yourself? If I come back, you might be the boss of me.”

That made Connie smile. “I know I can. You’ll always be the boss, if you come back. I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Langly said, pleased with himself. He was royally pissed at Morris Fletcher for doing this not just to him, but to this girl, who obviously didn’t have much to begin with. The least they could do was to help her keep the business going. Mulder would help with that, he knew. If Connie even needed help.

x-x-x

By the time Scully got to the warehouse that evening, the place was starting to look presentable — for a warehouse, anyway. With everyone’s help — even the grudging help of Morris Fletcher — some additional furnishings had been assembled.

“Not quite all the comforts of home,” Mulder said. “There are sleeping quarters set up for Langly and the others. Langly’s got his computers going. We’re not done by any means but we’re getting there.”

“It looks like an Ikea showroom,” she remarked, looking around the lounge.

“Hey, don’t disrespect Ikea,” Mulder said. He gave her the tour, ending with the vast, empty main warehouse floor.

“This will be your lab,” he said, sweeping his hand over about half the space. “With the infirmary right next door.”

“That’s a lot of square footage for one researcher,” Scully remarked. “And a part-time one, at that. I can use the labs at the hospital, you know.”

“I figure that in time you’ll have a staff here, same as me,” Mulder said. “If you agree, that is.”

“It could work,” she replied thoughtfully. “We won’t be ready for the next arrival, though. If Fletcher brings them here, we have to be ready to get them to the hospital.”

“Well, I don’t want him pulling up to our house in his unmarked white van,” Mulder said. “What would the neighbors say?”

“Speaking of keeping up appearances,” Scully said, “How do I explain my new patients? Amnesia isn’t exactly in my area of expertise.”

“But if you were given a grant to study it, would you consider a new interest?” Mulder asked.

“Someone’s offering a grant?” Scully asked suspiciously.

“I’ve had some money put away for a while,” Mulder explained. “From my father’s estate, for Samantha, if she ever came back.”

“I remember.” She didn’t know about it until after Mulder himself was thought dead. “It’s still in existence?”

“Oh yeah. I didn’t get around to changing it, before — you know. I think it’s time I put some of that bad money to good use. I talked to the lawyers today.”

x-x-x

Later that evening, after much arguing, Fletcher revealed Frohike’s alternate identity. Doggett suggested putting out a BOLO for “Frank Franklin”. Fletcher had refused to reveal more than the name. Then Monica found a Missing Persons report from the Tucson area filed for a Frank Franklin that day.

The report stated that Mr. Franklin had gone to Tucson with a Gibson Praise, and had not returned when expected.

“If he’s with Gibson, he’s probably already on his way here,” Mulder said.

“How can you be so sure?” Fletcher scoffed.

“I just know. I think you should come back here in a couple of days with the antidote, and we’ll take it from there.”

There was a good deal more wrangling before Fletcher reluctantly agreed.

After he left, Scully took Mulder aside. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Mulder. We don’t know anything about the antidote or how to administer it.”

“What’s the alternative, Scully? Letting Fletcher do it?” He sighed. “I know it’s not the optimal solution. At least you’ll be able to oversee it.”

Scully nodded, her expression grim. “You’re right, it’s not the optimal solution.”

When it came time to call it a night, some awkwardness arose regarding sleeping arrangements.

“I’d rather stay here,” Langly said, “if that’s okay.”

Connie said quickly that she’d rather stay too, although Scully invited her to go home with them. Connie had stuck close to Langly all day, helping him put together his computer components.

“We may have trouble getting her to go back to Chicago,” Scully observed to Mulder on the way home.

“Would that be such a bad thing? I don’t think there’s anyone to miss her in Chicago, as awful as that sounds. If she doesn’t want to go back, I wouldn’t force her to go. She seems like a quick study, and she gets along with Langly. That’s a feat in itself.”

“You’re right about her being alone. Monica did some checking, and Connie was in the foster care system for a long time. I wouldn’t tell her she had to leave here. It should be her choice. I don’t think she’s been given many.”

“I certainly wouldn’t turn her out,” Mulder said.

Scully sighed. “It’s all so wrong.”

“What’s wrong? What Fletcher did? Yes, it is.”

“Do two wrongs make a right? Should we allow Morris Fletcher to continue to control this?”

“We’re not going to let him,” Mulder said. “We’re giving them their lives back, the lives that he stole, getting them involved in that whole business.”

“The thing is,” Scully said, “their lives are being stolen again. It’s not just the Gunmen, either; we’re ruining other lives too. Look at Connie. Her life will never be the same.”

Mulder was silent for a long time. “It’s all wrong,” he said finally. “What’s happened to the guys is wrong, what’s happened to you and me is wrong. We’re trying to make some of it right. We can’t change the past, but maybe we can make the future better.” He sighed. “Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“No,” Scully agreed, “it’s not.”

Mulder reached over for her hand and held it for the rest of the ride home.

x-x-x

Somewhere outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, Frank saw flashing lights behind them. “Pull over,” he hissed to Gibson. “Act natural.”

Gibson did as he was told, speaking politely to the officer and handing over his license and registration when requested. Frank sat stock-still, staring straight ahead. He had nothing to be worried about, he told himself. He’d done nothing wrong; he was an adult and free to go where he pleased.

“Your identification, Sir?” The officer asked Frank.

Frank hesitated only slightly before handing it over. What would happen if he refused? Nothing good, he was sure. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he handed it over.

The officer barely gave it a glance, as if confirming something he was already sure of. “Mr. Praise, would you step out of the car, please? And you too, Mr. Franklin?”

The younger man looked at Frank with panic on his face. Frank was sure that his face mirrored Gibson’s.

Frank heard the officer on his radio. “I’ve apprehended the subjects, awaiting further instructions.” He couldn’t hear the reply on the radio.

“Should we make a break for it?” Frank murmured to Gibson.

Gibson didn’t answer right away; he was frowning a little, concentrating on the officer. Suddenly his face cleared a little. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s okay. Stay put.”

In a moment, the officer came back over to the car. “Mr. Praise, Mr. Franklin, I’ve been ordered to escort you to the closest FBI office.”

“Can you tell us why?” Gibson asked, although Frank was sure he already knew.

The officer said, “I do not have that information, Sir. The Deputy Director has instructed the local office to assist you in any way it can.”

x-x-x

“When are Gibson and Frohike arriving?” Scully asked the next morning. She drank her coffee, though it wasn’t helping her feel much more awake. Neither she nor Mulder had slept much after getting yet another late-night call, this time with the news that Gibson and Frohike had been found.

“They’re getting a flight first thing this morning,” Mulder said. “Doggett’s picking them up at the airport. He was all set to go down to Little Rock and escort them personally.”

“Does Fletcher know?”

“I took great pleasure in waking him up myself,” Mulder grinned. “He’ll be there. He says he has the antidote.”

“We’re not letting him anywhere near Frohike with it,” Scully said firmly. “And before ANYONE does anything, we’re going to talk to Frohike. We’re not just going to rush him off to the hospital. I want him to understand what’s happened.”

Mulder nodded. “That’s why I want you to come to the warehouse. We should talk to him together, in surroundings that are a little less threatening.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Scully promised, giving Mulder a swift kiss before rushing out the door. Why had she thought thirty miles was a short commute? It was beginning to feel like a hundred.

She had strong misgivings about administering an unknown drug. Langly was okay so far, but there was no telling how Frohike or Byers might react. The “grant” might cover liability for the hospital and her staff, but it wouldn’t make her less culpable, nor would it assuage her guilt if she did anything that harmed her friends.

The warehouse was looking more and more like the Gunmen’s old headquarters. Last night’s pizza boxes were still on the kitchen table and empty Red Bull and Jolt Cola cans were scattered around. The formerly empty racks along the wall were now filled with components blinking their various colored lights. Langly had pushed all the other furniture out of the partitioned-off computer area except for a couple of desks and a long table, which was covered with equipment that he’d been pulling apart. Several power cords and cables snaked along the floor to the table and the desks.

“It’s ridiculous to assume that the wireless connection is safe,” he was explaining to Connie, who nodded solemnly.

“How’s everybody doing?” Mulder asked. “I brought breakfast.” He held up a bakery bag.

Connie and Langly both looked up at the same time. Connie had a monitor and keyboard next to the one Langly was using. Data was scrolling across the screens. It was impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I haven’t lost my kung fu,” Langly said.

“Good to know,” Mulder replied. “How about you, Connie?”

“She’s a natural,” Langly enthused before she could answer. “She could be another Esther Nairn.”

Connie smiled a little. It was obvious she had no idea who Langly was talking about. “Roger, uh, Langly, taught me a lot of stuff,” she said.

Langly looked momentarily confused. “Oh. Yeah.”

Around noon, Doggett called to say that he and Monica were on their way from the airport.

Fletcher got there first. He was cagey about where he was staying. Mulder briefly considered seeing if Skinner would put a tail on him, tabling the thought for more urgent matters.

“Have you got the antidote?” Mulder asked.

“Nice to see you too,” Fletcher said. “Yes, I have it.” He held up a small black case. “Is Dana here yet?”

“That’s Doctor Scully to you,” Mulder said. “I’ve called her, and she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

Hearing voices, Langly came in from the computer room, Connie trailing behind him. Langly seemed not to notice he had a shadow following him. “What the hell is he doing here?” he said, gesturing at Fletcher. Connie glared at him.

“Mulder,” Fletcher warned, “you’d better keep him away from me if you want my help.”

“Is this guy who’s coming here a friend of yours?” Connie whispered to Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said, surprised at the question. “Kind of. Yeah. We worked together.”

Doggett buzzed the door and Mulder let them in. He looked around at all the expectant faces. “I don’t think anyone expected a welcoming committee,” he said as he stood aside to let Gibson and Frank in.

Mulder, nearest the door, reached out his hand to Gibson. “Good to see you again,” he said, deadpan, and Gibson took his hand, only to be engulfed in a hug.

Frank stood uncertainly in the doorway. Mulder approached him.

“Mr. Franklin,” he said, “you don’t know me –”

“Sure I do,” Frank said easily in his gruff voice. “You’re Mulder.”

Hearing his old friend say his name was almost too much. He turned to Gibson.

“We had a long drive,” Gibson said. “I told him all about you, and Scully, and the other guys. What I knew, anyway.”

“But you never met the guys,” Mulder said.

“I knew them through you,” Gibson said. “And Frank, here, had memories of you, and Scully, and Langly and Byers. I can see them, even if he can’t.”

Langly had been standing in the background and now came forward. “Do you know me?” he demanded of Frank.

Frank thought a minute. “Yeah, your name is Langly, Richard Langly. I don’t know why I know that, I just do.”

Fletcher said, “He was the hardest to put under, for such a little guy. He really fought against the imprinting.”

“Who are you calling little, you overstuffed –” Frank started toward Fletcher. Doggett held him back.

“Get in line,” Langly said.

Amidst all the commotion, the door alarm rang.

“Do you think you guys can keep from throwing punches while I go let Scully ?” Mulder asked. He went to the door and opened it for Scully. “Welcome to the party. Frohike’s just gotten here.”

Without prompting, Frank walked right up to Scully. “Hello, pretty lady.”

Scully didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; she did a little of both. “Hello, Frohike,” she said.

“The name’s Frank,” he said with a wink, “but you can call me anything you like.”

Morris Fletcher clapped his hands together, startling everyone. “Okay, reunion’s over: time to get down to business.”

“I said we’re going to do this our way,” Mulder said. “That means full disclosure.”

“We need to explain to you about reversing the memory wipe,” Scully said gently to Frank. “If you don’t want to do it, we’re not going to force you.”

Fletcher made a snorting noise and rolled his eyes. “My way is much faster,” he said.

“Shut up, Fletcher,” Mulder said. “Fro-Frank, if you’ll come in, we’ll tell you what we know.”

Frank listened carefully to the two strangers. That asshole Fletcher hung around in the background, muttering objections, but everyone seemed to ignore him.

The man who’d introduced himself as Mulder and the pretty woman he called Scully did most of the talking. They seemed serious; moreover, they seemed to genuinely care about him. There was an inherent truthfulness in the way they spoke. Gibson, who had become a friend on their long road trip, sat nearby, not trying to convince Frank of anything, just listening along with him. The others were out of the room, although the one they called Langly had made a fuss about being kicked out at first.

Their story was incredible, but after what Gibson told him, not completely unbelievable. Gibson had that same trustworthy vibe about him, and he seemed to trust them.

In the end, the only stipulation he made was that he wanted to be sure that Carla, Teri, and his other employees at the diner were taken care of. “Some guy from the IRS was there,” he said, “and I don’t want them to lose the business because I forgot to dot an i or cross a t on some tax form or other.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Mulder said, with a hard look at Fletcher.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Fletcher muttered.

Once Frank agreed to go ahead with the procedure, Scully called the hospital to get the admissions process started. There would be a bed waiting for him when they got there.

“Why can’t we just do it here at the warehouse?” Fletcher asked.

Scully glared at him. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said. “If you don’t want to come along, you don’t have to. Just give me the antidote and tell me how it should be administered.”

“Nothing doing,” Fletcher said. “I’m coming along. You can call me Dr. Morris.”

“You are NOT getting anywhere near Fro — Frank at the hospital, and I am certainly NOT going to participate in any scheme in which you pretend to be a doctor,” Scully told him.

“Dr. Morris,” Mulder scoffed. “Great alias, by the way.”

“Hey, the IRS agent at the cafe was called Morris,” Frank recalled. “What gives?”

“I wouldn’t be too superior about aliases if I were you, ‘M. Luder’,” Fletcher sneered, ignoring Frank’s question.

“Boys,” Scully warned sternly. “If you don’t stop it right now, no one is going with me. Frank, are you ready to go?”

“I was born ready,” Frank said. “Let’s go.”

Scully drove Frank to the hospital with Mulder, Fletcher, and Gibson in the back seat. Fletcher kept glancing over at Mulder, keeping his mouth shut, for once. When Scully looked in the rear view mirror, Mulder and Fletcher looked like two teenage boys who’d been grounded.

At least this time their patient was able to walk with them up to the Neurology floor. Once Frank was settled in a room, Scully read the instructions that Fletcher had supplied, a single printed page folded into the case with the drugs to be used. She set up the drip herself as Nurse Chavez and Dr. Chandra assisted with the monitors.

Once the Frohike was attached to all the monitors, Scully thanked them both and told them she’d call them back if she needed assistance.

“Who wrote up these instructions?” Scully asked Fletcher, who was standing in the doorway.

He shrugged. “Someone in the lab. Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No, surprisingly, they’re fairly clear,” Scully replied. “I’d be much happier if there was more information about the drug itself and the indications, however.”

“Hey, it works,” Fletcher said. “What more do you need to know?”

“Plenty,” Scully said. “What about side effects? What about long- term effects?” She glanced over at Frank, hooked up to monitors with the drip ready to go. “How can we properly inform Frank, or anyone, of the risks if we don’t know what they are?”

“Mulder’s still here, and he’s okay,” Fletcher pointed out. “Aren’t you?” he asked Mulder pointedly. “Also,” he continued to Scully, “your friends agreed initially to the experiment. I think we have the signed consent forms on file somewhere –” he made a show of patting his coat pockets.

“Dr. Scully, I’m willing to take the risk,” Frank said. “If you promise me you’ll stay with me.”

“Of course I will,” she promised him, her eyes damp. “You’re sure about this, Frank?” she asked again.

Mulder glanced at Gibson, who nodded slightly. Fletcher noticed the silent exchange, his eyes narrowed.

“Hey, you know what they say: nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Frank joked, although his voice shook. “Go ahead, before I lose my nerve.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Scully promised.

Frank watched as if from a great distance as she prepared the needle and began the first injection into the IV line. Things started to get fuzzy right away. He focused on her soft hand holding his until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

~*~

Chapter Eleven

As promised, Scully stayed near Frohike through the night. She dozed on and off, always aware of the steady beep of the monitor and the still form in the bed.

A few hours after the start of the procedure, the monitor began to show an increased heart rate. Scully was immediately at Frohike’s side aware first, and was already at his bedside when the night nurse came into the room.

“I’ve got him, Nurse Miller,” Scully said. “Thank you.”

Scully checked Frohike carefully. He remained unconscious, but his eyelids fluttered and his breathing quickened somewhat. He moved restlessly, muttering under his breath.

Mulder, also asleep in the room, woke up as soon as he heard Scully. He stood a little behind her while she checked Frohike over.

“His temperature is normal,” she whispered to Mulder. “He seems to be dreaming. Although his brain and heart activity are slightly elevated they’re well within normal ranges. He doesn’t seem to be in any real distress.”

“Is he still under sedation?” Mulder asked.

“I haven’t given him anything since the initial dose,” Scully said. “What he’s experiencing seems more like natural sleep, assisted in some way by the drug. I think that Fletcher must have kept Langly knocked out for his own purposes.” The mere thought made her angry all over again. She had to remind herself to stay calm.

Mulder watched her and nodded in agreement with her. “Once the guys are all safe, we’ll figure out what to do about Fletcher,” he promised.

They watched Frohike as his eyes fluttered.

“Do you think he’s dreaming his old life, or his fake life?” Mulder asked. “Maybe that’s the process he’s going through — the past six years are being ‘dreamed away.'”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Scully said, “I don’t know how it could be proved, however.”

After several minutes, Frohike calmed down. So it went throughout the night. There were long stretches of calm followed by bursts of what appeared to be a dream state, then subsiding into quiet sleep again.

It was daylight when he fully woke up for the first time since the drug was administered.

“Frank? How are you feeling?” he heard a soft voice ask nearby. Who was Frank?

He opened his eyes to a beautiful woman standing over him. “Hello pretty lady,” he said.

She smiled, a little sadly. The bedside light formed a halo of light around her head. “Frank, how are you?” she repeated.

“Who’s Frank, Agent Scully?” he said. “And what am I doing in the hospital? Did we keep the toxin from spreading?”

x-x-x

“Two down, one to go,” Fletcher said cheerfully. Frohike had gone back to sleep after greeting everyone, still feeling the after effects of the drugs. Scully held his hand until he dropped off, at his request. Fletcher, Mulder, and Gibson sat in the family waiting room while Scully made sure that the tests she wanted were scheduled for Frohike. “We need to talk about Byers,” Mulder said. “I don’t want you going after him on your own.” “What do you mean?” Fletcher asked. “I don’t want Byers tricked,” Mulder said. “He needs to come willingly.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Fletcher asked.

“You’re the big smart Black Ops guy,” Mulder replied. “I’m sure that there are times when you’ve had to use persuasion rather than drugs or force.”

“Coercion and subterfuge are mainly how we roll.” Fletcher said. “I know: maybe you could get Grumpy and Dopey to go with me. They’ve been through it, so their input might be helpful.”

“Actually, I think that’s half a good idea, Fletcher. Tell me where Byers is, and we’ll go to him. Frohike and me, that is. Langly can stay here with Connie. You can sit this one out.”

“I don’t think so. I still have the antidote. You still have to play by my rules.”

“I wouldn’t willingly go with you anywhere,” Frohike growled from the door. Scully hovered behind him. “Not for anything.”

“Not for your friend and colleague?” Fletcher said. “Don’t you want him back here with you?”

“Only if he wants to come,” Frohike said. “Besides, who’s to say he’ll remember me?”

“We’re not trying to cut you out of anything, Fletcher,” Scully said. “We just want to make sure our friends are treated properly.”

“Suit yourself,” Fletcher said. “I’ll stay here with Dana, then.” He leered at her. Scully was used to being leered at. Usually, she took it in stride. But when Fletcher did it, it seemed so much creepier.

Mulder noticed too. He hesitated until Scully gave him a look that reminded him she could take care of herself.

“Frohike’s not going anywhere until I say so,” Scully said. “Once I’m sure he’s stable, we can decide what to do next.”

“I see who’s in charge here,” Fletcher said, doing his best to needle Mulder.

“It’s about time you realized that,” Mulder agreed. “You’ll find it makes things much easier.”

x-x-x

A few days later, once Scully was sure that Frohike was okay and well enough to travel, Mulder and Frohike found themselves at San Francisco International Airport, grounded by fog.

The closest airport to Perdita was in Eureka. Unfortunately, due to summer fog, landing anywhere along the north coast was intermittently impossible, and this was one of the impossible days. They were lucky that they were able to land in San Francisco. The choice was to fly to Redding and drive from there, or to drive from San Francisco. With the combined flying/driving times, there was little difference between the two.

Rather than wait for the next flight to Redding, Mulder decided they’d drive from San Francisco. Lariat’s map of Northern California didn’t list Perdita. The counter rep suggested that they get directions locally once they got up to Eureka.

The drive was about five hours, depending on weather conditions and traffic. He and Frohike were going to be in the car together for the whole day. He was glad to see his friend, but as a traveling companion, he’d rather have Scully.

“Did you and Agent Scully ever have a case up here?” Frohike asked.

“Yeah,” said Mulder. “It seems like a long time ago.”

“Big Foot country.”

“Oddly enough, we never investigated Big Foot out here.”

“Do tell. What did you investigate?”

“We did have a case that involved dwarves.”

“Is that a crack at my height?” Frohike asked indignantly.

“Of course not. There was a ring of illegal pot growers using dwarves as ‘mules’ to deliver their product.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No, you can ask Scully if you don’t believe me.”

“I think I will. Maybe you’d rather catch me up on what you and the luscious Doctor Scully been doing for the past six years?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got a long drive. I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve been doing, so spill. What’s been going on?”

x-x-x

“Come in, Agents,” Skinner invited Doggett and Reyes into his office.

Once they were seated and the door was closed, he asked, “What have you found out about Morris Fletcher?”

“Not as much as we’d like,” Doggett said. “We can’t go through official channels without attracting attention. We confirmed that he worked at Groom Lake. Seems like even that information might be suspect.”

“How so?” Skinner asked.

“It’s widely circulated in MUFON circles. However, we don’t know if we can trust our sources,” Monica continued. “We know he appeared at the DEFCON convention in 1999 — we have pictures to prove it. But we don’t know who he was representing at that time.”

“We’ve got someone working on confirming now,” Doggett added, “he’s gonna take a little while to get up to speed.”

“I’m not sure I want to know about that,” Skinner grunted. “How is the ‘recovery operation’ going?” Other than the calls from Mulder requesting assistance with one thing or another, he hadn’t heard much. His official duties took precedence. He could only blow off so many meetings with his section heads.

“It’s at two-thirds,” Doggett said. “The final stage is under way. We’re waiting to hear from the field on that one.”

“What about Fletcher? Do you know his whereabouts?”

“We’ve got the local office helping keep tabs on him,” Monica replied. “He doesn’t seem to stay in one location for long. He’s switched hotels about three times in the last week.”

Doggett added, “He seems very interested in Mulder’s new project. Mulder isn’t sure what’s behind his help — if it’s sincere, or if there’s another motive to it.”

Skinner sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There’s a lot at stake here. I’m going through some back-channels myself. The scuttlebutt I hear is that Morris Fletcher may have gone rogue. That he’s no longer involved with any agency in an ‘official’ capacity. It doesn’t rule out the possibility that he’s a contractor. The agency hiring him would have plausible deniability. A contractor can be blamed for doing something not officially condoned.”

“Yes, Sir,” both Agents Doggett and Reyes replied. “We’ll be paying a visit to the, uh, involved parties later today,” Doggett added. “We thought we should keep an eye on things, while, uh…”

“While the civilian consultants are out of town,” Monica finished for Doggett. She gave a lopsided smile to Skinner, who grimaced in return. They really had to come up with better code names.

“Just — keep your inquiries under the radar as much as you can. I don’t need Homeland Security on my back. The official policy is interagency cooperation. In reality, it’s every man for himself.”

x-x-x

Langly banged away at his keyboard, annoyed at having been left behind. Why had Frohike gone with Mulder, and not him? They’d told him that they needed him to start getting the computers set up, and it was true that he was the best choice for that. It didn’t stop him from resenting that Frohike just up and left. Frohike was the go-to guy for physical security and surveillance countermeasures. Even six years out of date he’d know more than Langly did.

Fortunately Fletcher had taken himself off, too. Gibson made him nervous. That was fine with Langly; he didn’t need him hovering around, asking questions and interfering.

Also lucky for him: Connie was sticking around. Monica had offered to take her back to Chicago, but she seemed reluctant to go. Mulder promised to help figure out what to do with the studio once they got the current situation figured out.

He remembered the last time he was with Frohike and Byers like it was yesterday and yet when he looked at himself in the mirror he could tell that time had passed. Things kept taking him by surprise. Computers had changed a lot. Even though there were a lot of improvements in computer security, it wasn’t hard for him to figure them out. Maybe security had improved, but people hadn’t changed. They were still sloppy, forgetful, and lazy, and that was always the hacker’s greatest advantage.

They were also way too trusting. Even with newer and bluer meanies out there, people still didn’t believe that the worst could happen, and maybe already had. That wasn’t something that could be said about him. Especially now.

x-x-x

Scully finished with the report on Langly’s and Frohike’s blood work and put aside her notes for transcribing later. She’d hoped that she might be able to determine the components of the solution that was used to facilitate memory restoration. So far she’d had no luck with it.

Word was already getting around about the “genius grant” awarded to Doctor Scully. The administrators of the Mulder Family Foundation had done an excellent job of informing the university of their award to Doctor Scully for the study of amnesia and brain chemistry. She was sure that Katy Chandra would still have questions; she was a good doctor and a good researcher. At some point Scully thought she’d want to bring her ‘inside’.

Even if she quit her current job and worked on an antidote to the black oil disease, or a weapon against the supersoldiers, she couldn’t do it without help. Mulder couldn’t do his part alone, either. The Gunmen’s help notwithstanding, a full-scale recruiting effort was necessary.

There was also the question of William. She wanted to believe that he was completely safe. That no one would find him. There was always the possibility that “They” still cared about him. She hoped that some day she would see her son again, once she knew it was safe to do so. That he would understand the decision she’d made to give him up, to keep him safe. More, she didn’t dare to hope for.

x-x-x

The sun was just setting as Mulder and Frohike arrived on the outskirts of Eureka. The sun turned the bay into molten gold as it sank below the horizon.

Except for necessity stops for a bathroom or to put gas in the car, they drove straight through. Mulder groaned as he stood up; it had been a long time since he’d driven nonstop for an extended period of time. Predictably, the worst of the fog had cleared about halfway through the trip, revealing glimpses of rugged coastline and stands of redwood and fir as the road wound northward.

“What are the chances we’ll get to Perdita tonight?” Frohike asked. They’d run out of conversation about an hour back.

It had been an interesting exercise, telling Frohike about what he and Scully had endured over the past six years. Only about two of those years were of any interest. Once they’d settled in Virginia there’d been little to tell. At least, little that Mulder felt inclined to share.

The hardest part had been telling him about William. His son was not a subject he could talk about to anyone other than Scully. Even that took an effort. Frohike was silent for a long time. “I’m sorry, man. Do you think that maybe, someday…”

“We haven’t discussed that,” Mulder said. “It’s not something I want to bring up.”

“I’m glad you told me. What about Langly, does he know too? You know how he can be.”

“Yeah, the first day. I guess it’s now part of our orientation lecture.”

Frohike snorted in amusement. “Previously on ‘This is Your Life.'”

“Yeah, I’d find it a lot funnier if it weren’t mine.”

“You and me both, my friend. What’s the plan?”

“Let’s see if we can find out where Perdita is. I hope it doesn’t live up to its name.”

x-x-x

“Scully, it’s me.”

She was starting to get used to these late-night calls again, and for once it was someone she enjoyed talking to. “Mulder, where are you?”

“Not quite the back of beyond, but we’re getting there. Frohike says hello.”

She could hear Frohike’s voice and a TV in the background. “I take it you haven’t gotten to your destination yet.”

“We’re close. We’ve been told that the road is tricky, and we thought it might be better to arrive in the light of day than to go knocking on his door late at night. How are things there?”

“Everything seems okay. No new crises, just the old ones. I miss you.”

Her words made him smile. “Me too,” he said, mindful of Frohike skulking around in the background.

“Call me when you see him,” Scully said.

“Of course,” Mulder replied.

x-x-x

The next morning, armed with a local map, they set out for Perdita. The cashier at the coffee shop where they’d had breakfast was also helpful.

“What takes you to Perdita?” she asked curiously. “It’s not like it’s a tourist destination.”

“We heard there were some good examples of California Victorian architecture there,” Frohike said. He’d lifted the sentence right out of one of the local brochures at the motel. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I guess so, though I think there are better ones here in Eureka,” she said doubtfully. “It’s a lot of bad road to take just to look at houses.”

“That might be, but you never know what you might find in these little places,” suggested Mulder with a smile, which got them the address for the only lodging in town, and a plug for a coffee shop there where her cousin worked.

“Smooth,” Frohike murmured as they left the coffee shop. “Way to sweet-talk the natives.”

“Look who’s talking, Don Juan Frohike,” Mulder retorted.

The road was not just bad, in some places it was almost non- existent. There were a few patches that could be described as paved in between potholes that must be harder to avoid when they were filled with water in winter. Some attempt had been made to smooth the road by resurfacing it with gravel, which created ruts that scraped the undercarriage of the car and shot small rocks up from the tires to dent the sides of the car and endanger the windshield. Mulder regretted not trading their sedan in for something with better suspension. He felt like he was in a pinball game, bouncing from one rut to the next.

“I don’t think we’re going to get the damage deposit back,” Frohike said.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Mulder said, concentrating on keeping the car from careening off the road completely.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they got to town. Morris Fletcher had told him Byers’ location and name, nothing more. They peered through the windshield at the dripping, fog-shrouded landscape.

Without warning, a sign for Perdita loomed into view. The road branched off; Mulder took the right-hand fork which soon led them onto the main street.

A lot of the buildings appeared to be original, or at least had been restored to the original. The firehouse was brick. Most of the other buildings appeared to be construction of wood, and most were ornamented with elaborate trim.

“It’s like the whole town was decorated by the Wicked Witch,” Frohike said. “Look at all that gingerbread.”

“Yeah, it’s like we’ve arrived in Fairytale Town. Try not to chew on the decorations, Hansel.”

“Ha ha. Where should we start looking? Should we ask the sheriff? Do you still have a badge?”

“The idea is to be low-key. That idiot Fletcher posed as an IRS agent when he visited you and Langly. We’re not trying to inspire fear, we just want to convince Byers to come back to D.C. with us.”

They drove slowly down the street. “Hey, there’s the newspaper office,” Frohike said. “That’s language I speak. I bet someone there knows who Brian Jordan is.”

x-x-x

Brian started to shut down the office computer and looked around, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. Tomorrow, he’d be leaving with Annie for San Francisco. It was a small step, but Annie was pleased.

The door to the front office of the paper jangled, and he looked up with a smile, expecting Annie. She was joining him for lunch at Donna’s.

Instead, two people stood in the doorway. The glare from outside made it hard for him to see their faces at first. He thought it might be a man and a boy; one figure was considerably shorter. Neither spoke.

Brian asked, “Can I help you? I’m sorry to say that the paper is on hiatus right now. I was just –”

The shorter of the two spoke in a deep, gruff voice. “Byers?” was all he said.

“I’m sorry, who?” Brian asked. As they stepped away from the door, he could see that the shorter of the two was not a boy at all, but a grizzled-looking man. He looked at Brian with a surprised expression, as though he knew Brian and hadn’t expected to see him here.

“Actually,” said the taller of the two men, “we were looking for Brian Jordan. I think we’ve found him.”

~*~

Chapter Twelve

Brian looked at the two men in confusion. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Don’t you remember me?” Frohike asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Brian said, looking panicked.

“Unbelievable. We lived together for years!” Frohike exclaimed, watching his old friend’s face go totally white.

“Not the way you seem to think,” Frohike added hastily, “not that there’s anything wrong with it. But I got a thing for the ladies, man. Seriously.”

“I think we’re moving a little too fast for Mr. Jordan,” Mulder suggested. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? My name’s Mulder, by the way, and this is Melvin Frohike.”

“I’m expecting my wife any minute,” Brian said. “Whatever you have to tell me, maybe it’s something she should hear, too.”

“You’re married?” Frohike exclaimed. “Of all the –”

“Settle down, Frohike,” Mulder said. “I think it might concern her, too. It has something to do with your past. Nothing bad,” he hastened to add, seeing Brian’s expression change again. “Weird, maybe. I think you’ll both find the information of interest.”

Brian sat down suddenly. “Are you — did you know me? Before the accident?”

“What accident?” Frohike asked.

“I was in a boating accident. It was six years ago, in San Diego. I don’t remember anything about it. I was the only survivor,” Brian said. “They told me I might never regain my memories. No one who knew me has ever come forward before now.”

“That’s because–” Frohike started to explain. Mulder cut him off.

“I think we should wait until Mr. Jordan’s wife is here. We can explain it to both of them,” he suggested.

“Explain what?” A woman stepped into the office. She was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Brian, what’s going on?”

“I — I don’t know,” Brian said. He stood up again, remembering his manners. “This is — Melvin Frohike and Mr. Mulder. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your first name,” he said to Mulder.

“Fox Mulder,” Mulder said. “You must be Mrs. Jordan?”

“I’m Annie Jordan, yes,” she said, standing by Brian. “What is this about?”

“These men say that they know me,” Brian said.

“Really?” asked Annie. “Then, where have you been for the past six years?”

x-x-x

Connie supposed it was time she went home. Everyone here had been nice — even Roger — Langly — was nice in a distant way. He seemed to look through her, not at her. He didn’t mind her company, especially if he could show off some of his hacking skills. It seemed to her that Roger was still in there, somewhere. But his focus had changed, and he obviously knew all these people who came and went in this place that he now called home.

Mintage Sound had been her home. At first, it had been just a place to crash, one in a long line of temporary shelters. Little by little, she’d made a place for herself there. Roger had stood in for family — acting like a bossy big brother sometimes, mostly pursuing a policy of separate but equal as far as their private lives were concerned. He’d allowed her to create her own living space. It wasn’t something that would ever appear in House Beautiful, but it was hers.

She flopped on the sofa in the lounge. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Chicago without Roger. He was the boss, the engine that drove the studio. She wasn’t sure she could do it on her own; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. Oh, the people here had said stuff about getting help for her. It just wouldn’t be the same. Maybe she could persuade Langly to go back with her — maybe being at the actual studio would help him to remember.

She picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Someone was always switching it to CNN — that Mulder guy, probably. He seemed to be the one in charge. News was boring; there was always something getting blown up or blown down or flooded or —

She sat up as the announcer said, “…in the gradually gentrifying warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago…”

“Roger!” she screamed. “Langly! Come here quick!”

x-x-x

Either Morris Fletcher was an expert at covering his tracks online, or he, Langly, was losing his touch.

He doubted that the latter was true. He tapped away, and set another program to search protected databases on Connie’s computer. She’d gone into the other room to take a nap. He could hear the murmur of the TV. Other than that, the only sounds were his fingers clicking on the keyboard, and the whirr of the machines around him.

Connie exclaimed “SHIT!” from the other room, startling him. She came running into the computer room.

“Ro – Langly, come here quick!”

Langly followed her into the lounge in time to see it: a large fire in a warehouse district near Chicago. Connie grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

“…it’s not known what caused the explosion which started the fire, or if anyone was in the building. The spokesperson for the Chicago Fire Department says they expect to have it contained by nightfall. At this time, none of the surrounding buildings are in danger. In other news…”

“We’ve got to do something!” Connie exclaimed.

“Yeah, but what?” Langly said. “We’re too far away. It’s too late.”

“I checked everything before I left, I swear,” Connie said. “I set the alarms, I was really careful.”

“I’m sure you were,” Langly said. Connie looked so lost standing there. “It wasn’t your fault.” He reached out and hugged her around the shoulders. “We’ll find out who did this, and make him pay.”

Connie leaned against his shoulder and sobbed. Awkwardly, Langly patted her and let her cry.

He had a pretty good idea who did this. He needed to get hold of Mulder and tell him what was going down.

x-x-x

Annie volunteered to go get sandwiches from Donna’s. “You can stay here,” Annie suggested to Mulder and Frohike. “We’ll come back and then you can tell us why you came all the way to Perdita, instead of just picking up the phone.”

Mulder and Frohike looked at each other. Frohike shrugged; he wasn’t sure they should be let out of sight, but Mulder seemed to think it was okay.

It was a short walk, just across the street. Mulder could see them talking to each other as they slowly walked away.

“You don’t think they’ll make a run for it, do you?” Frohike wondered.

“Why would they do that?” Mulder asked.

Frohike shrugged. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if some strangers showed up claiming that they knew you, and that they had something important to tell you?”

“I think it’d be more likely they’d get some of their friends to come back with them, to make sure that we didn’t try anything. We’re outnumbered here, Frohike.”

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Annie asked Brian as they waited for their order.

“No, I don’t remember them at all, but they seem to recognize me.”

“We don’t have to go back there,” Annie slipped her hand into his. “We could go out the back way and get the car, and leave for vacation early. We’re practically packed.”

She could see that Brian was only tempted by this idea for a moment. He didn’t know what these two men wanted any more than she did, but it was obvious that he wanted to find out. “No, I don’t think we should,” he said gently but firmly. “We can’t do that. Why run away? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

Annie stood closer to Brian and he put his arm around her. “You’re right,” she said, although she wasn’t completely sure. It was so important to Brian to know about his past. “Whatever it is they want we’ll listen to them, and then we can decide what to do.”

x-x-x

Skinner’s private line rang. The ID screen was blank, which was not a surprise; the few people who had this number were not trusting individuals, and with good reason.

“Hello, Sir,” said a familiar but unexpected voice.

“Dana, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Skinner said. He’d expected to hear from Mulder rather than Scully. He’d already heard about Chicago from Agent Reyes; she and Agent Doggett were on their way there.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry I haven’t called since we’ve been back.” He could hear traffic noises; she must be in her vehicle.

“It’s Walter, remember?” he said. “This isn’t a social call, is it?”

“No, Sir, it’s not. I’m sorry to bother you –”

“I know you wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. Where is he?”

“In Northern California. Someplace where cell phone service is intermittent, or I’d call him directly. Do you have any contacts in the Eureka area?”

x-x-x

“That’s — that’s an incredible story,” Brian said as Mulder finished telling him the tale of the Gunmen’s demise and their subsequent resurrection, with frequent asides and interruptions from Frohike, filling in the background of the Gunmen’s history and various crusades.

“Incredible but true, my friend,” Frohike said.

Brian and Annie sat side by side at the table in the Perdita Press’ office, opposite Mulder and Frohike. As Mulder told the tale of the Gunmen, they moved closer and closer together, until now they seemed joined, shoulder to shoulder. Brian took Annie’s hand nearest to him. They sat with fingers entwined as they tried to process the astounding information these two strangers had just shared.

“I’m still not sure I follow,” Annie said. “You want to inject Brian with something to make him remember who he is? Is this stuff safe? Has it been tested?”

“Two of us have had the ‘treatment,'” Frohike told them. “No real side effects, except that you won’t remember the life you’re living now.”

“Excuse me, that’s a big ‘side effect,'” Annie pointed out.

“It’s Brian’s choice,” Mulder said. “I wanted to lay the facts out to you, so that whatever choice you make is an informed one. And I don’t expect you to make this decision on the spot, though you can’t delay for too long,” he added.

“What happens if I say no?” Brian asked.

Mulder rubbed his hand over his face. “Frankly, I don’t know.” He was beginning to realize that it wasn’t much of a choice he was offering. If Morris Fletcher was truly a renegade, the agency he used to work for was probably already pulling the plug. They might be coming even now for Brian. He glanced at his cell phone; no service bars. He’d have to find a payphone somewhere to call Skinner and try to get protection for these two.

“It seems to me that it’s not a choice between having this done or not, is it?” Annie said, putting Mulder’s fears into words. “Only who will do the procedure, and where and when it will be done.”

The bell on the handle of the front door jangled, startling everyone. Mulder’s reflex was to reach for a gun, something that wasn’t lost on the new arrival.

“Put your hands in the air,” he said. Mulder obeyed. “Brian, Annie: are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Annie said under her breath. Aloud she said, “We’re fine, Nate. Why?”

The man who marched into the office wore a sheriff’s uniform. “Sure you’re okay?” He walked around the table to stand next to Annie and Brian.

“I’m not armed,” Mulder said. “Force of habit.”

“All the same, could you please stand up and put your hands over your head, and walk over there?” The sheriff gestured away from the door with his gun. “You, too,” he said to Frohike. “Annie, I know you’re a good shot. Why don’t you hold this while I check these guys over?”

Annie trained the gun on them as the sheriff stepped behind Mulder and Frohike and briskly and efficiently frisked them both.

“Okay, you can sit down again,” the sheriff said, and took the gun from Annie, much to Mulder’s relief. “I just got a strange call about you. I’m not in the habit of personally delivering messages, but the call came in at my office, and I think you’re going to want to return it right away.” He turned back to Annie and Brian. “I think you should come along, too. This concerns you.”

“What is this about?” Annie demanded.

“It seems like your husband’s cover in the Witness Protection Program has been blown,” the sheriff said.

x-x-x

Mulder recognized the number as Skinner’s private one as he punched it into the sheriff’s phone.

“Skinner.”

“It’s me,” Mulder said.

“Mulder. Have you heard about Chicago?”

“The sheriff here said something about a warehouse fire?” Mulder threaded his way carefully; he wasn’t sure how much of the real story the sheriff knew. He was just outside the inner office, talking with Annie, Brian, and Frohike. They could all be listening.

“Yes, that’s right. We’re concerned that Mr. and Mrs. Jordan may be in danger as a result of recent events. Can you bring them in?”

“Are you sending someone to meet us? I’m concerned that the interested parties already know their whereabouts.”

“We’ve asked Sheriff Barrett to help you out. He’s going to provide transportation and we’ll have you rendezvous with your protection at the closest safe house. I don’t think you want to stay in your present location any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“I copy. Where are we headed?”

“Call this number again when you get in range,” Skinner said. “I’ll give you the location.”

“Okay. We’d better get this show on the road.”

Mulder went back out to the outer office. “I guess you’ve gathered that you’re in some danger,” he told the Jordans. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave this afternoon. It takes time to get here, but I don’t know how much of a lead we’ve got. Sheriff, is there another way out of town other than the highway toward Eureka?”

“There are a lot of old logging roads around here,” Barrett said. “They’re in terrible condition, but they’re only known to the locals.”

“That rental car will never make it. What kind of car do you two have?” he asked Brian and Annie. “It’s not the best solution, but I don’t think we should head back to Eureka.”

“We’ve got a four wheel drive,” Annie said. “It’s practically packed. We were going on vacation,” she added a trifle wistfully.

“That’ll have to do,” Mulder said. “It’ll look like you’re just heading out early. Do you agree?”

Brian glanced at Annie and nodded. She seemed to be taking all this in stride; although he didn’t think that witness protection entailed erasing the protectee’s memories.

“I have a better idea,” Barrett said. “Bring it here and park it in the municipal garage, in the back. You can take my brother’s SUV. I’m keeping it for him while he’s on deployment. You can tell me where you’ve left it once you’re safely away.”

“That’s a great idea, Sheriff Barrett. Thank you.” Mulder said, surprised. “That’s going above and beyond interagency cooperation, I’d say.”

“Let’s just say I’m doing it for an old pal in the Marines,” Nate Barrett said, gesturing to the Marine Corps plaque on his wall.

Frohike grinned. “Semper Fi,” he said.

“Damn straight,” agreed Sheriff Barrett.

~*~

Chapter Thirteen

Scully paced back and forth. There was nothing she could do, but until Mulder called and let her know he was safe — that they were safe — she wouldn’t be able to settle.

“You know that we might not hear from them tonight,” Skinner said.

“Mulder will call,” Scully said. “As soon as they’re anywhere he can do so safely, he’ll call.”

It was close to midnight when he finally did.

“Mulder, where are you?” Scully asked.

“I’m at the safe house.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all just great. It’s hotter than hell here. They say it’s a dry heat, though.”

She breathed a silent prayer of thanks. “When will you be back?”

“That’s up to Skinner. Is he there?”

Scully handed the phone over to Skinner.

“Hey, Skinman, how’s it going? Did you send the stuff?”

“Don’t call me that. Yes, you should have it by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great, ’cause I think the natives here are restless. I don’t want them to think too hard about this. They might do a bolt. I don’t suppose you’ve found our friend yet?”

“He’s still at large.”

“He’ll crawl out of the woodwork eventually. We have something he wants.”

“Just make sure that we keep it,” Skinner said.

x-x-x

“What do you make of all this?” Annie whispered to Brian. They were alone in their room at a small motel outside of Redding. Mulder had told them they would be continuing on to Sacramento the next day, and from there back to Washington.

The ride from Perdita had been tense, and very long. They’d stopped in some small town for gas and snacks and then they’d pushed on to the “safe house” which turned out to be this fleabag motel.

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“Do you believe these people? Do you trust them?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have just left with them, except that Nate seemed to think that they were on the level. He said he’d gotten a call from the Deputy Director of the FBI. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He smiled a crooked smile. “They seem trustworthy. We’re not being held at gunpoint. I guess we had a choice, somewhere back there. I don’t know what my instincts are worth, though: since I don’t even know who I am.”

“What about this John Byers that they keep saying you are? Does he sound familiar?”

“I don’t recall ever hearing the name before,” Brian said. “But both Mr. Mulder and Mr. Frohike seem to know him. Me. If that’s who I really am.”

Someone knocked quietly at their door. “It’s me, Frohike,” a voice whispered loudly.

Brian opened the door.

“How’s everybody doing?” Frohike asked. He was such a strange little man, Annie thought. But he had a kind face.

“We’re okay, considering,” Brian said.

“Yeah, I know it’s weird,” Frohike said. “I’ve got a six-year gap in my memory. I have a friend who’s told me where I was and what I was doing, but I don’t remember any of it.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Brian asked.

“It pisses me off that I lost six years, yeah,” Frohike said. “But the life I was living, it wasn’t my real life. I guess I was happy enough in my ignorance, but I think on the whole I’m glad to have my old life back.”

“How can you say that if you don’t remember it?” Annie asked.

“That’s a fair point,” Frohike said. “But before, I was doing something worthwhile. I was fighting the good fight. For six years I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“I don’t know what I’m missing now,” Brian said, “I do know what I’d be leaving behind. I don’t know if that’s a fair trade-off.”

“I’m not here to convince you of that, man. But take some time to find out more about John Fitzgerald Byers before you decide.” He saluted them and left.

x-x-x

Connie sat glumly in front of the TV. Langly was nearby, as was Monica Reyes. No one felt like talking. The news said the fire had gutted the studio but no one knew what had caused the explosion yet.

Agent Doggett had come back with Monica, fetched Gibson, and left for someplace unspecified. The three of them were left waiting for something. Connie didn’t know, and she told herself she didn’t care, either.

She hadn’t been sure that she wanted to go back to Chicago. Now that it wasn’t an option, she wished she had. Maybe she could have saved the studio, somehow.

Monica’s phone rang. She stood up and left the lounge. Connie could hear her murmuring into the phone. She hung up before coming back in.

“Mulder has them,” she said to Langly. “They’re safe for now. They should be here tomorrow.”

Langly looked, if not pleased, a little less angry. This news did nothing for Connie. She didn’t know who they were talking about or why she should care. It seems that rescuing them was more important than her life, anyway.

Monica sat down next to her. “You have a place here, you know,” she said quietly. “For as long as you want. For always, if that’s what you want.” She put her arm around Connie’s shoulders. “I know this is hard for you.”

Connie put her face against Monica’s shoulder, and allowed herself to cry.

x-x-x

It was still dark outside when Mulder’s phone rang on the bedside table. “I don’t remember leaving an early wake-up call,” he mumbled.

“Mulder, it’s me,” said Scully.

“You do realize it’s three hours earlier here?” he teased. He looked out the front window; Frohike was sitting on a bench outside, keeping watch on their traveling companions.

“Do you think you can get to the airport in time for a noon flight?” she asked. “Skinner is having the tickets and other documents sent directly there.”

“I like that better than waiting here. I feel like our charges might change their minds,” he said.

“That’s a good reason, but there’s more to it,” Scully said. “Skinner authorized Agents Doggett and Reyes to check out the fire in Chicago,” Scully said, “and I think they found something there.”

“Did he tell you what?” Mulder asked, now fully awake.

“No, but I have an idea, and I bet you do, too. It’s not something anyone wants to talk about over the phone. Just get back as soon as you can.”

They were on the road an hour later. After a long day cooped up in the car the day before, no one felt much like talking. Mulder kept one eye on the rearview mirror. No one seemed to be following. The freeway was a long straight stretch, mainly through rice fields, olive orchards, and the occasional town. The tallest buildings around were grain silos.

His passengers dozed. No one had gotten much sleep, he was sure. He’d taken first watch and the Jordans’ light had been on very late. It was hard enough to make life or death decisions when you knew it was something you’d signed up for. How hard it must be for someone like Annie — or Byers, in his current persona — to be pulled into something like this out of the blue. It wasn’t going to get any easier for them, either.

They got to the airport in plenty of time. They left the SUV in the long term lot. Mulder would tell Skinner, who would let Sheriff Barrett know where to find it once they were safely home.

The four of them headed for the ticketing area. Even the normally loquacious Frohike was subdued. Mulder scanned for anyone who looked like they might be a contact. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw John Doggett and Gibson Praise approaching.

“Talk about calling out the Marines,” Mulder said. “How’d you get stuck with this detail?”

“What’s your saying?” Doggett said as he shook hands with Mulder. “Trust no one? I think Skinner is taking it to heart. We’re here to get you home. It was Scully’s idea to send Gibson. She thought he’d make a good ‘early warning system’.”

“Trust no one,” Mulder agreed. “It’s the phrase that’s sweeping the nation.”

~*~

Chapter Fourteen

“Home again,” Mulder said as they pulled into the drive of their house many hours later. Scully had met them at the airport and Doggett had volunteered to take Frohike back to headquarters while Mulder and Scully took the Jordans back to their house for the night.

Fletcher hadn’t been answering his phone and no one had heard from him since the fire. Scully suggested that it would be better to take Brian and Annie home and put them up for the night than to take them to the warehouse.

“This might be the last night that they get to spend together,” Scully said. “Let’s give them that, at least.”

It was a little awkward and surreal, probably more so for Annie and Brian than for them, Mulder reflected. He agreed with Scully that everyone might better face the decisions that had to be made in the morning.

Annie asked if she could borrow a computer when they were shown to their room.

Scully looked at Mulder. “Sure,” he said. “But I want to caution you that you shouldn’t log onto your email account, or let anyone know where you are. If there’s someone who needs to know you’re safe, let me know who they are and we’ll get word to them.”

“So we are in witness protection?” Annie asked.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” Scully said. “It’s better to be overly cautious until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I just want to check out some things that Mr. Frohike mentioned,” Annie said. “I won’t email anyone, and neither will Brian.”

Scully handed over a laptop. “Here, you can use this in your room if you want privacy.”

“That’s awfully trusting of you, Scully,” Mulder remarked. “Are you sure she won’t do something dumb, like send an email?”

“I think she’s protective of someone she loves,” Scully said, “and until she knows more about what’s going on, she’s going to be careful.”

x-x-x

Annie booted up the borrowed laptop. Brian sat on the bed next to her. He’d been subdued since leaving Perdita. After Frohike had left them the night before, they’d talked for a long time.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” Brian had told her. “Maybe it would have been better if –”

Annie stopped him by putting her fingers on his lips. “You are not allowed to say that it would have been better if we’d never met,” she said. “You didn’t talk me into anything; I knew that you were essentially a man with a mysterious past when I married you. For better or worse: and I don’t think you’re a bad person. As soon as we can get to a computer, I’m going to do what your friend suggested: find out what I can about the mystery man I married. This John Fitzgerald Byers.”

“You may not like what you find,” Brian warned her.

“I guess we’ll have to take that chance,” she’d said.

Now they were at the moment of truth. She brought up a search page and typed “John Fitzgerald Byers” into the search box.

The request returned both print and image results. The thumbnail images were small, and the first picture they pulled up was out of focus, but it was unmistakably Brian. A much younger Brian, with a beard; still, unmistakably him.

“Wow,” Brian said. He reached for the touchpad and clicked on one of the entries.

The title of the page was “In Memoriam,” and showed a picture of him, Frohike, and someone named Langly as well.

They silently read the entry, outlining the same events that Mulder had recounted to them two days before.

“We’ve both been trying to find out more information about Brian Jordan,” Annie said after a moment. “And the funny thing is there’s not much to find from before I met you. A couple of articles quoted that you wrote. Not much else. But look at all the information about John Fitzgerald Byers.”

She pulled up another page: a Wikipedia entry. Annie scrolled down the page slowly, stopping at a section entitle, “A Heroic End.”

“Quote,” she spoke softly in his ear. “‘We never gave up, we never will. In the end, if that’s the best they can say about us, it’ll do’.”

They stared at the screen for a while, taking it all in.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Brian said finally. He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face; they were a mirror of Annie’s.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll be right here,” she whispered. “And if one of us gets lost, we won’t give up. We’ll keep looking.”

With a sob, Brian pulled Annie close to him. Their lips found each other, and they kissed and clung to each other, saying goodbye.

x-x-x

The next morning, just as they were getting ready to leave for the warehouse, Mulder’s phone rang.

“Did you miss me?” said Morris Fletcher.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mulder asked

“Oh, around,” Fletcher replied vaguely. “Did you get your errand completed?”

“Yes, no thanks to you.”

“You said didn’t need my help. Where are you right now?”

“Heading to the office. Do you have the supplies?”

“Yes I do. But I don’t want to meet you there just yet. There’s a diner about a mile away from there. Can you — just you — meet me there in an hour?”

“I suppose so.” Mulder hung up and turned to Scully. “There’s a slight change of plans. Can you go directly to the place, and I’ll come by after I’ve met with Fletcher.”

“I want to go with you,” Scully said.

“Someone has to stay with our guests. I’ll get backup; don’t worry.”

x-x-x

They could see Fletcher from the door when they walked in. He didn’t look pleased that Skinner had come along.

“What part of ‘alone’ did you not understand?” he said sarcastically. “I’d just as soon not have more attention drawn to me right now.”

“Live with it,” Mulder suggested. They seated themselves in the booth, Skinner next to Fletcher, and Mulder on the other side, giving them a good view of the whole diner.

Once they were seated and the waitress delivered coffee, Mulder started in on Fletcher. “What the hell were you trying to prove?” he hissed. “You haven’t been answering your calls, and now this thing in Chicago? I told you to hold off.”

“Did you stop to think that maybe I’m not the one who did it?” Fletcher retorted. “Operation Wipe Out was a covert government program. They’re cutting their losses. They certainly wouldn’t have let you take over the site.”

“Then we’re all in danger,” Mulder said. “Unless you can call them off.”

“They’re not real pleased with me right now,” Fletcher said. “I’m trying to spin this the best possible way — they started remembering on their own, etc., etc. Even then there’s the possibility they’d want to permanently terminate the program.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe your pal Gibson would be able to tell you,” Fletcher said. “He can read minds, am I right?”

Skinner and Mulder looked at each other.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like he wasn’t part of a government program, too. Same as you, Mulder. Some were just more successful than others.”

“If we weren’t in public, you piece of –” Mulder growled.

“That’s exactly why we’re in public,” Fletcher smirked. “I have a deal to offer you. I have what you need to get your friend Byers back, but I want something in exchange. I’ll trade you: Gibson for the Gunmen. That’s three for one. That’s an excellent deal.”

“I don’t trade in humans,” Mulder said. “You never said that was part of the deal.”

“You never knew what any part of the deal was. I told you I could deliver your friends, and I’ve done it. What do I get in return?”

“Maybe I don’t shoot you,” Mulder said. “How’s that for a bargain?”

“You don’t have a gun,” Fletcher scoffed.

“Skinner does,” Mulder said.

Skinner began to reach inside his coat.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Fletcher shouted. Heads started to turn, and he lowered his voice. “What kind of lawless bunch of thugs are you? You can’t do that! You’re supposed to be the good guys!”

“You’re right, we can’t,” Skinner said. “However, I’m guessing we could probably get a charge of kidnapping or unlawful imprisonment to stick. So if you don’t mind your p’s and q’s, I’ll have you locked up and throw away the key.”

“I’ve half a mind to just walk out of here,” Fletcher huffed.

“Go ahead,” Skinner said. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”

“I do,” Fletcher said. “You’re the good guys, and you don’t have the balls it takes to stick it to the other side. You won’t play dirty, and that’s why you lose.”

“I didn’t mean us,” Skinner said. “You say you weren’t involved in the fire in Chicago. Do you know for sure that your ‘agency’ was?”

Fletcher was silent.

Skinner went on. “Mulder, you haven’t even heard the whole story yet. Doggett and Reyes found evidence of super soldiers at the burn site. We believe that they were either involved in the destruction of the studio, or someone was trying to destroy them.”

Fletcher still didn’t speak. From the look in his eyes he hadn’t known that either.

“So that’s why Scully asked Gibson to come to California with Agent Doggett,” Mulder said to Skinner. “He’s the closest thing we have to a super soldier detector.”

“If you don’t think the good guys aren’t capable of sticking it to the bad guys,” Skinner said to Fletcher, “wait and see.”

x-x-x

The atmosphere was subdued at the warehouse when Mulder arrived with Fletcher in tow. Introductions had been made, and there had been some awkward small talk. Now Annie and Brian sat in the lounge with Scully. The others had made themselves scarce while she talked to them about the procedure.

“Do you mean I’ll forget everything?” Byers asked. He clutched at Annie’s hand. “It will be as if Brian Jordan never existed?”

“So far, that seems to be the way it works,” Scully said. She looked from Byers to Annie. “I wish I could tell you something different. But it’s early days yet. Neither Langly nor Frohike have recalled anything about their other identities, but it’s only a short time since they’ve recovered their original memories. That could change.”

“Are there any alternatives?” Annie asked.

“Deputy Director Skinner has offered to put you both into witness protection. Whether or not you can be protected indefinitely is unclear. There may be other agencies involved. If you decide to go through with this now, at least it will be on your own terms.” Scully smiled sadly. “I can speak from experience that it’s not much fun living life looking over your shoulder all the time. Even if you know who you are.”

She stood up, and Brian the gentleman stood up as well. “I’m going to leave you two to discuss this.” She left the lounge and went into the kitchen where the others waited.

“What’s going on?” Mulder asked.

“They’re talking it over,” Scully said. “I don’t know, Mulder. It seems so unfair. They have a life together. To take everything away, not just from Byers, but from Annie, too: it’s wrong.”

“I agree,” Mulder said. “But what’s the alternative? A life on the run, or,” he glanced at Fletcher, “apprehension by this shadow agency?”

Brian appeared at the door, Annie by his side. “We’ve decided,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Fifteen

They arrived at the hospital in caravan. Scully drove Annie and Brian. Mulder followed with Fletcher, Frohike, Langly, Gibson, and Connie. No one wanted to wait at the warehouse for the outcome. Scully had tried to convince them that not everyone had to come to the hospital. In the end, however, it didn’t seem fair that anyone be left out.

Only Annie was allowed to go into the room with Brian and Scully. The rest were asked to wait in a small conference room that Nurse Chavez had reserved as a “family waiting room” at Scully’s request.

Annie did her best not to cry as Brian was attached to various monitors by Dr. Scully.

“You’re going to get sleepy,” Scully explained to Brian, “and, when you wake up, you’ll remember who you were before.”

Brian nodded. “Can Annie stay with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Scully said. Her own throat was tight. How many times had she sat by Mulder’s hospital bed, watching and waiting for him to wake up and see her? It wouldn’t be like that for Annie. Her partner was being taken away from her, possibly forever.

She blinked back her own tears and injected the antidote into the drip. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” she said, and left them alone.

Brian smiled up at Annie. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll do my best to remember that.”

“I love you too,” Annie said. “And I’ll never forget.” She leaned down and kissed him, and felt his lips return the pressure before they relaxed into unconsciousness.

x-x-x

Down the hall in the conference room, the rest waited for word on their friend.

Frohike was telling Langly about finding Byers in Perdita, and about Annie. “Don’t you think she looks like Susanne?” Frohike asked Langly.

“Dude, how can you tell what she’s like? You’ve known her about three days.” Langly said. “Just because they’re both blonde doesn’t make her like Susanne.”

“Blonde, and a scientist,” Frohike said. “She was teaching high school science, but she studied microbiology.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Langly said. “Susanne was a dream, anyway. Byers knew he’d probably never see her again.”

“Well, Frohike said, “Annie seems nice, and she seems to love Byers – – I was never sure that Susanne did.”

“You were just jealous,” Langly accused.

“No way,” Frohike said, hand on his heart. “I’ve always loved Agent Scully. Nothing can turn me from that love. It’s a pure and devoted love, the physical is not necessary.”

“Only because Scully would probably kick your ass if you tried anything.”

“Who’s Susanne?” Annie asked from the door. She’d sat with Brian for more than an hour. Scully was in his room now, checking his vital signs.

“No one important,” Frohike said quickly.

“Please tell me,” Annie asked.

“She was someone Byers knew a long time ago,” Frohike said. “They weren’t dating or anything.”

“No, Byers just had a massive crush on her,” Langly interjected. “Frohike thinks you look like her.”

“She was a damsel in distress. Byers helped her out. She disappeared. She came back, and needed help again. Byers helped her out again. We helped her disappear. End of story,” Frohike said. “It was more than ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Annie said. That wasn’t something that had been mentioned on the websites they’d looked at together. But of course Brian had had a life as John Byers. These two knew more than any website would know. “Can you tell me more about Bri — John Byers?” she asked.

“What do you want to know?” Langly asked.

“Whatever you can tell me,” Annie said.

When Scully checked in on the group in the room, Langly and Frohike were regaling Annie with tales of their friend.

“It’s a little like a wake,” she remarked to Mulder out in the hallway.

“A little,” he agreed. “What do you think will happen when Byers wakes up?”

“I don’t think he’s going to know Annie,” she replied. “It’s going to be hard for her.”

Mulder put his arms around Scully. “I know.”

Scully rested her head against Mulder’s chest. “I wish there was something we could do for her.”

“Well,” said Mulder, “we can give her something to put her back up against. I have an idea.”

x-x-x

When Annie checked in on Brian again, Scully was by his bedside. She nodded, and whispered, “Why don’t you get some sleep,” and indicated the other bed in the room. Mulder was dozing in a reclining chair nearby.

She shook her head and wandered back to the waiting room. Someone had brought in a couple of thermal containers of coffee and hot water.

Connie sat there alone, stirring a cup of what looked like cocoa. She gave a little half-smile. “Want some hot chocolate?” she offered.

Annie nodded and Connie got another mug and filled it from the hot water container, handing it and a packet of hot chocolate mix to Annie.

“Where did everybody go?” Annie asked.

Connie shrugged. “That Fletcher guy said he had to go, and the rest went down to see if the cafeteria was still open.”

“Which one was Fletcher?” Annie asked. She’d been introduced to everyone hurriedly, but her mind had been on other things.

“He’s the suit with the creepy smile,” Connie said. “I don’t like him,” she added unnecessarily.

Annie nodded. “I’m sorry, I know we were introduced,” she said to Connie, “I don’t know your connection to the other people here. Did you work with them before?”

Connie shook her head. “No, the one they call Langly — he was my boss until he remembered who he really is. Then the bastards burned down his business.”

“These people? The ones here now?” Annie asked, shocked.

“No, except I think that Fletcher guy might have. He kidnapped Roger and brought him here.”

“I hear he’s the one responsible for the guys regaining their memories?”

“Yeah, and losing them in the first place,” Connie confirmed. “Langly used to be Roger Mintage. Now he doesn’t remember any of it. He doesn’t remember me, and I saw him every day for nearly two years.”

“He doesn’t remember anything?”

“That’s what he says. The doctor lady, Scully, says that maybe someday he will. No one knows for sure.”

Annie stirred her chocolate for a few minutes. “Is that why you’re here? Do you hope he’ll remember?”

Connie shrugged. “They told me I could stay as long as I like. Langly’s teaching me stuff — he’s a real computer genius. So I guess I have a job.”

Annie noticed that Connie hadn’t answered. She understood that. She had her own unspoken hopes, her own unanswered questions. Right now, nothing seemed real. Until she knew for sure what was happening to her Brian, she couldn’t think clearly.

x-x-x

Finally too exhausted to do anything else, Annie went back to Brian’s room.

Dr. Scully stood at Brian’s bedside. The monitors seemed to be beeping more more quickly than they had before. Brian was turning his head from side to side and his eyelids were fluttering.

“He’s doing fine,” Scully whispered. She gestured to Annie to come stand by the bed. She pointed to the monitors, explaining the activity. “He’s dreaming right now.”

Annie hesitantly reached her hand out to smooth the hair on his forehead, looking at Scully.

“It’s okay,” Scully said. “You can touch him.”

Instead of touching his head, Annie put her hand over his. “What’s he dreaming?” She didn’t want to think of him having nightmares without being there to comfort him.

“I don’t know,” Scully said. “I don’t think it’s nightmares. He’d be under much greater stress if it was.”

“Br- Brian used to have nightmares, sometimes,” Annie said. She didn’t want to look away from him. His face was so familiar, so dear to her. Could it be possible that he wouldn’t know her when he woke up?

“I know this is hard for you,” Dr. Scully said gently. “We won’t let anything happen to him. Try to get some rest.”

It was too late, Annie thought. Something was already happening to him.

Scully touched her shoulder. “I think you should try to sleep,” she said. “I’ll wake you if I see any change.”

Annie nodded and went to the empty bed. She lay down and turned her back to the low light by Brian’s bed. She didn’t think she’d sleep. In a few seconds, she did.

x-x-x

“Annie.” Someone was shaking her awake. “Annie, he’s waking up.”

She opened her eyes to see Mulder. Scully was again — still? — at Brian’s bedside. Out in the hall, others were quietly milling around. Although no natural light could be seen in this room, she sensed that it was morning.

“Brian?” Scully was saying. “How are you?”

Over Mulder’s shoulder, Annie could see Brian’s eyelids fluttering. For a few tense seconds, no one spoke. Brian’s eyes opened. He reached his hand up to his chin and frowned slightly, then tried to sit up.

“Agent Scully, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What did you call me?” he said. “Where am I?” Then he went pale, evidently remembering. “I thought we died,” he whispered. “It felt like dying.”

“That’s because you almost did,” Fletcher said from the doorway. “But I saved your asses.” He, Langly, and Frohike were all standing just outside the infirmary.

“You’re the one who got us there in the first place, you scuzzball,” Frohike said.

“All of you, out of here. Now.” Scully said firmly.

“Aye aye, Nurse Ratched,” Fletcher said.

“Hey, show some respect,” Frohike said.

Mulder went to the door. “You heard Dr. Scully. Visiting hours are noon to eight. Only close family members allowed.”

Annie stood, frozen. She was afraid to move, either toward the door, or closer to the bed.

“It’s okay, John,” Scully was saying to Brian. “There was an accident. You survived it. So did Frohike and Langly. They’re both fine.”

Byers drew a breath of relief and looked around. “Are they here?”

“They’re outside,” Mulder said, “I think you should rest a while before seeing them.”

Byers nodded. He felt his chin again. “Did you have to shave off my beard?” he asked. “I’ve heard they can interfere with anesthesia masks.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Scully told him. “You should probably rest now.”

Annie thought she might be able to sneak out after he’d closed his eyes, but the slight movement she made caught his attention. He tried to sit up, and smiled politely at her.

“I didn’t see you standing there,” he said. “Forgive me for not getting up. I’m John Byers. Are you working with Agent Scully?”

“We’ll explain it all later,” Scully said. “Get some rest.”

Byers obediently closed his eyes again.

Mulder led Annie out of the room. As soon as they got to the lounge, however, the rest of the group surrounded them.

“How is he?” Langly wanted to know.

“Does he know who he is?” asked Frohike.

“He’s fine,” Mulder said. “Scully’s checking him out right now. You know the drill. He needs to rest for a while. Hold your horses.”

He took Annie back out to the hallway, away from the others. He turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Maybe you’d like to go back to the house for a while? There’s not much privacy here.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, which elicited a smile from Mulder.

“I don’t believe that from you, any more than when I hear it from Scully, but never mind. If the guys — or anyone — bug you too much, let me know.”

Scully came out of Brian’s room. “He’s resting. Annie, I’m so sorry. It might change — he might remember you later.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m going to try and be realistic about this. He may never –” her voice broke a little — “never remember our life together. I have to get used to that.”

“When he wakes up again, we’ll have to tell him what we know about his life before,” Scully said. “Do you want to be there?”

“Don’t you think he’d feel obligated in some way? I don’t want that. I loved him as Brian, and from what his friends have told me, I’d like him as John Byers, too. But if Brian and John are similar, I also know that he’d feel an obligation to me if you tell him we were married. Better to leave it alone. We knew each other, that’s all.”

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. “It’s up to you,” Scully said finally. “But I think you’re wrong.”

x-x-x

Several hours later, Byers asked for Annie. She went to the doorway of his room, and was surprised to see him dressed. He’d been sitting in an armchair, but he stood up when she entered. He looked like Brian, and yet not like Brian. There was no recognition of her in his eyes.

“How are you?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure what to call him.

“Doctor Scully says I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve had bloodwork, a CAT scan, and my heart and EEG readings are all within normal ranges.” He smiled ruefully. “But other than that, I don’t know how I am.”

Annie nodded. She didn’t know how she was, either.

“I know you’re Annie,” he said. “And I know you knew me as Brian Jordan. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” Annie said. She’d twisted her wedding ring off a while ago; now she fingered it in her pocket.

“I hope you’ll call me John,” he said. He waited until she sat in the other chair and then sat down. “I also hope you’ll tell me about that life,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

“Do you remember anything?” Annie asked. A small seed of hope sprouted.

“Not much, just a general feeling. I think I was happy. They said I was living in a small town in Northern California. I was a newspaper editor.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Not that far off from what I was doing before.”

“You were a crusading editor. You were always writing editorials about things that you cared about, and you made others care. Sometimes you made people mad, too.”

“What kinds of things did I write about?”

“Preserving small-town life, while not rejecting everything modern. Learning to distinguish between important things and trivial things.” Annie smiled. “You did this piece on the road repairs that the town needed. I thought that the Rabble would come after you with pitchforks.”

“You call the townspeople rabble?” he asked, looking confused.

“No,” Annie said. “That’s the bunch at Donna’s cafe. They call themselves the Rabble.”

“Oh,” he said. It was obvious to Annie that none of these things rang a bell. “Before — before I was Brian Jordan, I wrote about the things I thought mattered, too.”

“What kind of things?” Annie asked.

He thought a moment. “About doing what’s right, not what’s popular. About exposing things that were wrong.” He smiled a little, remembering. “I made people mad then, too.”

“Did you like what you were doing?”

“I did. I felt what I was doing was important, that what I said needed to be said. If I could make only one person think a little differently about our world and what was going on in it, that was something.”

“I’ve heard that you did more than that. I read that you saved a lot of people by preventing a terrorist attack. You kept a dangerous toxin from being released.”

“They told me the same thing. I remember it. That’s something I wish I could forget.”

“But you remember that you’re John Byers, and you don’t remember anything about Brian Jordan.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” he admitted. “It’s funny, I used to dream of living in a small town. Of living in a house with a white picket fence around it.”

“That was your house.” She couldn’t help the tears starting in her eyes.

Byers looked at her. “Just my house?” he asked gently.

Unable to speak, Annie shook her head.

“In my dream, I wasn’t the only one living there.”

“They told me about Susanne,” Annie blurted out.

He looked grave. “Frohike and Langly like to gossip. Sometimes they have ideas about things that aren’t quite correct.”

“I’m not Susanne. I couldn’t be.”

“But we were married, weren’t we?”

She nodded. “They weren’t supposed to tell you. I don’t want you to feel…like I’m a left over obligation.”

“I guessed.” He held up his hand and she could see the pale line where his ring used to be. “You may know me as Brian, but I think that one thing hasn’t changed: I believe in the truth, and in telling the truth.”

“Then you tell me about Susanne,” she insisted. Knowing that her Brian had lived another life was bad enough. To also find that he had loved someone else was like discovering an old flame had moved back into town. This was his reality now, and she was not a part of it.

“Susanne is a real person. The idea of a life with her was a fantasy,” Byers said. “I had an idealized view of the world, one I wished was true. The Susanne I wished for was part of that world.” He shook his head. “The reality was different. She lived in a dangerous world. When our paths crossed the first time, I had no idea how dangerous. She was the reason I met my friends, and why I decided it was important to expose the truth, no matter what.”

“It’s hard to be idealistic when people can take your life away,” Annie said bitterly.

“That’s true. But here’s something that no one else told you. Maybe they don’t remember. We chose to do what we did. No one coerced us into preventing the release of the toxin. We made a decision to do our best. We knew what the consequences were. We traded our three lives for the lives of the many. Then Morris Fletcher somehow managed to save us, and in return, he wanted us to participate in this program.”

“You mean he blackmailed you into it.”

“No. He saved us first, and then asked for our assistance. It turned out to be a deal with the Devil, but he did save us. Every deal comes at a cost.”

“I didn’t ask for this deal!” Annie cried. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

This wasn’t going well at all, she thought. She was saying exactly the words she’d told herself she wouldn’t say. Even if he hadn’t been coerced into becoming Brian Jordan in the first place, she was using guilt to try to force him to become Brian again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. I know this is hard for you. You didn’t ask for this, either.”

Byers shook his head. “Neither of us did.” I wish I could remember you. I wish things had turned out differently.”

“What do we do now?” she asked through her tears.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Sixteen

Scully kept Byers in the hospital that night. She suggested that Annie go back to the house, but Annie insisted on staying at the hospital for as long as Byers was there.

The others had all gone back to the warehouse once they’d had a chance to see Byers for themselves. Neither Langly nor Frohike seemed anxious to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. They used the excuse that they wanted to get started on better security for the warehouse.

“I’m keeping Byers here an extra day,” Scully told Mulder.

“Why? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, I think he’s recovering the same as Langly and Frohike. I’m doing some extra bloodwork, and I was able to reserve a small amount of the antidote that I’m going to have analyzed.”

“Are you going to analyze it here?”

“I won’t do the analysis personally, I have someone else in mind.”

“Who?”

Scully just smiled. “Let’s talk about it a little later.”

“The enigmatic Dr. Scully,” Mulder said, teasing.

“You’re a smart man, Mulder. If you think about it a little, I bet you can figure it out.”

x-x-x

At the end of the second day in the hospital, Scully told Byers that she was releasing him. “You’re welcome to come back to the house.”

Byers shook his head. “I think I’d rather go back to the warehouse. I don’t want to make Annie feel worse.”

“I understand.” Scully put her hand on Byers’ arm. “Give it some time. This is difficult for both of you.”

“Probably more for her than for me, because I don’t remember,” Byers said. “But I can see how hurt she is.”

Annie elected to go back to the house with Mulder and Scully. Fletcher had taken himself off sometime earlier, though Mulder had extracted a promise from him to meet at the warehouse the next day.

Skinner had also promised to come, and would bring Doggett and Reyes to report more fully on what they’d found in Chicago. It would be their first full strategy meeting.

“What happens to me now?” Annie asked Mulder and Scully on the way back to their house. She’d spent some more time with John, at his request, but their conversations had been awkward and stilted. It seemed like every topic was a potential land mine.

“I think it’s too soon for you to make a decision about what you want to do,” Scully said. “Give it a little time.”

“I can’t go back home, can I?” Annie asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Mulder said. “You really are in witness protection now. You wouldn’t be safe.”

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Scully added. “I hear you have a background in microbiology. I work at the University; I’m sure we could figure out a position for you there.”

“Do I have to change my name, become someone else like Brian — John did?” Annie asked.

“We’re still trying to assess the threat,” Mulder said. “At a minimum, we don’t think you’d be safe going back home. We don’t know what the people running the program that Byers and the others were in might do. At the very least, they might use you to try and get to Byers.”

“I don’t see why,” Annie said. “He has no obligation to me. He doesn’t remember me.” She was proud of herself for not bursting into tears when she said it.

“Of course he has an obligation to you,” Scully contradicted. “Even if not you personally, he would never want anyone to come to harm because of him.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “I used to tease Brian about being a secret superhero. Now it seems like it’s true.”

“Only the saving the world part,” Mulder said. He pulled the SUV into the garage.

Scully gave him a look. “Mulder –”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Mulder said to Annie. “There are some things you don’t know yet. It’s too late tonight to get into them.”

As they entered the house, Scully said. “It’s been a long couple of days. I think we all need a good night’s sleep.”

“I guess I’ll say goodnight then,” Annie said awkwardly. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Scully watched Annie slowly climb the stairs. “I think I should talk to Annie,” she said to Mulder.

“Do you want me to come talk to her too?” Mulder asked.

Scully reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve had a long couple of days, too; go on up, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mulder went on ahead as Scully knocked softly on Annie’s door. “Annie, it’s Dana. Can I talk to you for a minute?” There was no answer.

Annie didn’t look up when Scully opened the door. She sat at the desk with the borrowed laptop, looking at the entry she’d shown Brian, when he was still Brian and not John Byers. The face was so familiar: the kind, intelligent eyes and serious expression. He looked cute with a beard. She remembered teasing Brian about growing one, and he never would.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Scully asked. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t think I can think of anything more to say,” Annie told her. “This is so far outside anything I’ve ever experienced. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I understand. It’s far outside my experience too. I’ve always relied on science,” Scully said. “I’ve seen and heard of so many things I couldn’t explain by any science I knew. But that’s the way I’ve always approached them. With your background, I think that will help you, too. Maybe not tonight. When you’re ready. It’s a good way to begin to deal with the unexplainable. You start looking for the pieces that make sense, and go from there.”

“None of it makes sense right now. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“Just — don’t give up hope. We’re going to do our best to figure out what was used to restore their memories. The memories weren’t erased, only hidden somehow. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out a way to restore their other memories, too.”

“How can you be sure?” Annie asked.

“About restoring their memories, I’m not sure. But I don’t think you can ever give up hope. Without it, nothing is possible. But with it, sometimes seemingly impossible odds can be overcome.” Scully fingered the cross at her throat. “Don’t give up,” she repeated.

x-x-x

Mulder turned and smiled as Scully walked into their room. “Alone at last,” he said softly.

Scully walked into his arms and hugged him tightly. “We got them back, Scully,” Mulder murmured into her hair. “We got them back.” They held each other close for a long while, neither speaking.

Finally Scully looked up at Mulder. “We did. They’re alive, against all the odds, and they seem to be okay. Except that they’ve lost six years.”

“It has to be asked. Do you think we did the right thing, Scully? Was it worth the price?”

“I don’t know. You said yourself once that sometimes the costs are too high. I think it depends on who you ask. To Annie, or to Connie, I’m sure it’s not. If Langly, Frohike, and Byers knew what they’d left behind, they might not think so either. Would we have done the same thing, knowing what we know now?”

“I don’t know either. We tried to give Byers a choice, but that choice was taken from him. Maybe we should have left well enough alone.”

“But once we knew, could we have left them alone? I don’t believe it was an option. I suppose you could say that the ends justify the means, or if we hadn’t intervened, they might have been used for more nefarious purposes. There’s no way to know for sure. Sometimes I think we only know afterward.”

“I guess we could have the fate versus free will argument again. Or do you mean that history will judge us?”

“Maybe. I just know that not doing anything was not an option. We can’t afford to sit back and wait for things to unfold.”

“It seems like you’re arguing from my side,” Mulder said with a small smile.

“I’ve always been on your side. Even when it didn’t appear that I was. Someone has to keep you honest.”

“I know. Even if it took me a long time to win you over, it was worth the fight.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat,” he murmured.

“So would I,” Scully said, kissing him back. “And we may have to, before this is over.”

Down the hall in the guest bedroom, Annie fell into bed, not bothering to do more than take off her shoes. She missed Brian more than she could express. Is this what being widowed felt like? No wonder her father hadn’t wanted to go on without her mother.

Dana Scully had told her not to give up. What did she know about loss? Her man hadn’t been stolen from her. She sat there so calmly, talking about science and hope and not giving up. She couldn’t think straight. She still didn’t know what was going on. She had to rely on her hosts right now; she had no choice. She’d been left with nothing: no husband, no home. She wouldn’t be Annie any more either, she supposed. But she’d still have Annie’s memories. It was completely unfair.

Dana Scully had said something about working in her lab. If she couldn’t go home again, she would need a job, and a place to stay. She didn’t want to just hang around hoping that Brian — she had to remember to call him John — would remember her.

Maybe this was the dream, and she’d wake up back in Perdita, with Brian beside her…

The pillow still smelled faintly of Brian. She hugged it to herself, and tried to sleep.

x-x-x

Back at the warehouse, Byers tried to sleep too. He could almost believe that the intervening six years had never happened. There were enough changes in themselves and their surroundings that none of them could quite manage that, though Frohike and Langly were giving it their best effort. He should, too. He was still having trouble processing everything that had happened. They were too, even though Langly was acting a little superior, having been the first one whose memory was recovered.

Six years, completely obliterated. He was married, or had been married, anyway. He had no memory of it, except as a memory of a daydream: the kind of daydream he used to have about Susanne.

Would Annie be staying around? Did he even want her to? They’d had a couple of awkward conversations. He’d gotten up on his high horse about something. He hardly knew what he was saying. He just kept looking at her, trying to remember her. She seemed to know him. Except he wasn’t who she thought he was. He wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with and married. He’d made her cry, and he felt bad about that.

After several minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up and wandered out to the lounge. The television was on, but the two occupants were fast asleep. Connie was on the sofa and Gibson slept in a recliner, his glasses still perched on his nose. Byers found a throw and put it over Connie, and carefully took Gibson’s glasses off and placed them on the table next to him.

He could see a light coming from the kitchen and heard low voices. Langly sat at the kitchen table. Frohike was at the stove.

“Hey Byers,” he greeted him. “Want some huevos rancheros? There’s plenty. And there are brews in the fridge.”

Byers got a beer and a glass from the cupboard and poured the beer into it carefully, keeping the foam at a minimum. Langly watched him and shook his head.

Langly still looked strange. His hair was growing back, although it stuck up like a bristle brush at the moment. His glasses were different, too. But he had on a Ramones tee shirt that someone had found for him, and he was banging away at a laptop, muttering to himself, pushing his glasses up when they slid down his nose.

“What are you working on?” Byers asked him.

“I’m still trying to figure out who that son of a bitch works for,” Langly said. “I think he’s due some serious payback, and I want to know if there are others like us out there.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got a point, Langly,” Frohike said. “But first things first. It’s time to circle the wagons. There’s been some weird shit going down, and we have to get to the bottom of it. Mulder’s counting on us. As is the beautiful Dr. Scully.”

“Look who’s talking: the Gnome that Time Forgot,” Langly said. “Okay, Rip van Langly,” Frohike says. “Let’s see some of that kung fu you’re always saying you have. Time’s a-wasting.”

“Gentlemen,” Byers interrupted. “We have no time to lose. Let’s get to the business at hand.”

-end-

Frohike: Buddy, fight the good fight. Langly: Both of you. Byers: Never give up.

-From “Jump the Shark”, the Gunmen’s ‘last words’.

x-x-x

Author’s Notes: I’ve only been able to watch “JtS” once, and if I’d been a spoiler hound at the time, I might not have watched it even then. I think I knew from the moment the credits rolled at the end that the Gunmen weren’t really dead, but where did they go? What have they been doing? The idea of giving them secret identities occurred early on. I just needed to figure out who would have helped them and why. Enter Morris Fletcher, who to paraphrase Dr. Nacimiento, “practically writes himself.” He is a lot of fun to write, the big lug.

It was my good fortune that Wendy was willing to beta the story. She has been extremely helpful and patient. Thanks also to Donna H. who offered some suggestions and encouragement along the way, and to the Posse for their cheering me on.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

msnsc21@yahoo.com

Isolation by ML Part 2 of 2 Headers and disclaimers in Part 1

Chapter Ten

The next morning, wary of what might happen between Fletcher and Langly, Mulder had suggested that he drop Langly off at Best Buy to do some computer shopping.

“Best Buy?” Langly said disdainfully. “I don’t buy computers off the shelf.” Instead, Langly directed him to a disreputable looking computer store not far from the warehouse, which Langly seemed to recognize. Mulder had handed over a credit card with some trepidation, promising to come pick him up in a couple of hours.

When Morris Fletcher finally showed up, alone, he was glad he’d left Langly off at the store. Fletcher’s news was not pleasant. Frohike had disappeared.

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Mulder yelled.

“He’s not where I left him,” Fletcher shrugged. “No one seems to know where he’s gone.”

“He’s not just a package you left in a bus locker somewhere, he’s a human being!”

“I also didn’t have a tracking device on him, although that’s certainly a consideration for the future,” Fletcher said thoughtfully.

“Tell me where you expected him to be,” Mulder demanded.

“I don’t think so. Besides, if he’s not there, what good would it do you to know?”

“I am a trained investigator.”

The door alarm rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Fletcher murmured. He smirked at Mulder. “Aren’t you going to get the door?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Mulder promised as he checked the monitor.

Doggett and Reyes stood at the door, with a young woman standing with them. He buzzed the door to let them in.

“This is Connie Philips,” Monica said. “She’s Roger Mintage’s assistant. We told her we’d found him, but that he’s lost his memory.”

Connie looked like a rocker chick. She had the requisite spiky hair style, black with blonde streaks and kohl-rimmed eyes, giving the impression she’d been up all night. Her jeans were authentically worn, as were her high-tops. She wore a tee shirt for a band Mulder had never heard of.

“There’s no Roger Mintage here,” Fletcher said officiously. “Mr. Mulder, can I speak to you privately for a moment?”

Mulder gestured toward the kitchen.

“Are you out of your mind, bringing her here?” Fletcher demanded. “How did you find the studio, anyway?”

“We found a business card in Langly’s pocket. We were investigating. It’s what I do.”

“There is no Roger Mintage any longer. By the time that girl gets back to Chicago, it will look as if Mintage Sound had never existed. There will be a fire, or something suitably catastrophic. Mintage’s name will live on as a footnote in the music business, another tragic early death.”

“You can’t do this!” Mulder yelled, not caring if anyone heard him or not. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

“What are we supposed to do with the girl?” Fletcher hissed. “We don’t know anything about her. She could be a spy.”

“I’m going to take that chance. You don’t get a vote.”

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” Fletcher muttered.

“I’m telling you, if you don’t want me to have Skinner just lock you up and throw away the key, call off whatever clean-up operation you’ve got going on. We’ll figure out something else.”

“Well, we could always do a memory wipe on the girl.”

“Not an option. Don’t even think about it. We’ll handle this our way.”

They came back out to the main room, where the others stood trying to look as if they hadn’t heard every word.

“Roger’s here, isn’t he?” Connie asked. “He’s okay, right? This guy,” she looked daggers at Fletcher, “didn’t hurt him?”

“That remains to be seen,” Mulder said. “I’m just about to go get L…uh, Roger. You guys sit tight. Keep an eye on our friend here,” he said, gesturing to Fletcher.

The atmosphere got a little strained once Mulder left. Monica took Connie over to the area set up as a lounge and tried to make her sit down, but she was restless and tense. Her eyes tracked Fletcher wherever he went. “I don’t like that guy,” she said softly to Monica.

“I don’t blame you,” Monica whispered back.

Langly was waiting at the door of the computer place when Mulder pulled up, several boxes of equipment around him. “This’ll do for a start,” he said, handing over the credit card and the receipts.

Mulder whistled. “This had better be some computer.” He helped Langly load the boxes into the back of the SUV. There were several hard drives and monitors, and lots of cables, keyboards, and other peripherals.

“I’ve got some catching up to do,” Langly said. “I’m six years behind on everything. Not to mention that security at the warehouse sucks. I think you need to do something about that right away.”

“We installed cameras at the entrance, we use key cards, and there are motion sensor alarms. Do you think that having six locks on the door is better than one really good one?”

“No, I think six really good locks are better than one. I think that you need a lot more security than you realize. But Frohike is the real expert on that.”

“Yeah. But right now no one seems to know where he is.”

“Not even Fletcher?” Langly said incredulously.

Mulder shook his head no. “That’s what he says. I’m not sure I believe much of what he tells me. I don’t know what his motive would be for lying about that.”

“Maybe he’s holding him for ransom, and he’s upping the price?”

“He hasn’t asked for anything — yet. He seems to want asylum. He’s a shifty bastard.”

“You’ve dealt with plenty of shifty bastards before. Just make sure you’re keeping an eye on him. I’ll see what I can find out once I get the systems set up. I bet I can find out more and faster than any of those guys Skinner’s got working for him.”

“You’re on. The sooner we find out what’s going on, the better.” He paused, thinking about what he needed to say. “Langly, before we get back, I’ve got to tell you something.” He explained about Connie and the business back in Chicago. Langly didn’t ask any questions. He sat silently until Mulder finished his narrative, then shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of the place, or her,” Langly said. “But I’ll be nice to her.”

“One other thing,” Mulder said. “Morris Fletcher is here, too.”

“Let the ass-kicking begin,” Langly said grimly. “I’ve always been non-violent, but for him I’d make an exception.”

“Just remember what Scully said. We still have to get Frohike and Byers back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Langly muttered.

“Roger!” Connie jumped up as Mulder and Langly came in. “You’re okay.” She stopped short of hugging him, but didn’t seem to know what to do with her arms. She sort of hugged herself and then let them drop, standing awkwardly in front of Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said uncertainly. He had no memory of this skinny young woman with the dyed black hair and multiple piercings, but he’d told Mulder he’d play along. He caught sight of Morris Fletcher lurking in the background. Before he could say or do anything, Mulder stepped in.

“Let’s give them a chance to talk,” Mulder suggested to Fletcher and the others. He herded everyone else into the kitchen, leaving Connie and Langly in the lounge.

“Hey,” Connie said to Langly. He sat down on the sofa, and Connie perched on the edge of the armchair next to it.

“Hey yourself,” Langly said. “You’re Connie, right?”

“Yeah,” Connie said. “They told me you have amnesia, so you don’t remember stuff. What is this place? I mean, I know it’s a warehouse, but what’s it for?”

“It’s — I don’t know what it is any more. I used to live here.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Connie said. “It’s like your place in Chicago, except not fixed up. The — the recording studio; Mintage Sound. Do you remember?”

“I had a studio in Chicago?” Langly shook his head. It was like she was telling him about a dream she’d had, and he was in it. It wasn’t his dream.

“You still do,” Connie assured him. “These two guys came — a man and a woman — they say they’re FBI, and they showed me badges. They told me that you’d been kidnapped and lost your memory. So I locked the place up, set all the alarms, and came to find you. If you don’t remember how to get there, I can show you.”

“I don’t remember anything. I’m sorry, I don’t even remember you.”

She wouldn’t cry. She never cried. Roger Mintage had been her boss as well as a friend. She’d never had a family before Roger. Now he was gone too.

“That’s okay,” she said, although her throat was aching. “I was your assistant. I know how to do most things around the studio now. I could probably help you remember how to do stuff.”

She was so earnest under her tough looks, almost desperate. Langly wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. He sure didn’t want her to cry. He said something almost at random.

“When I was a kid, I thought it would be fun to have a recording studio. It’s cool to be in a band. I think it’s even cooler to work with a lot of bands, you know?”

“Yeah. You were good at it, too. Maybe once you go back, and see it, you’ll remember.” She’d taught herself not to want much, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting this. Please make him Roger again. Please.

“I think I need to stay here for now. But you know how to handle things, right? Maybe you could keep things going until I come back.”

“Really?” She brightened a little. “I can do that, just until you can come back. ‘Cause you will come back won’t you?”

“It sounds like you know your stuff. You’d have to show me what to do all the time. Do you think you could run it yourself? If I come back, you might be the boss of me.”

That made Connie smile. “I know I can. You’ll always be the boss, if you come back. I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Langly said, pleased with himself. He was royally pissed at Morris Fletcher for doing this not just to him, but to this girl, who obviously didn’t have much to begin with. The least they could do was to help her keep the business going. Mulder would help with that, he knew. If Connie even needed help.

x-x-x

By the time Scully got to the warehouse that evening, the place was starting to look presentable — for a warehouse, anyway. With everyone’s help — even the grudging help of Morris Fletcher — some additional furnishings had been assembled.

“Not quite all the comforts of home,” Mulder said. “There are sleeping quarters set up for Langly and the others. Langly’s got his computers going. We’re not done by any means but we’re getting there.”

“It looks like an Ikea showroom,” she remarked, looking around the lounge.

“Hey, don’t disrespect Ikea,” Mulder said. He gave her the tour, ending with the vast, empty main warehouse floor.

“This will be your lab,” he said, sweeping his hand over about half the space. “With the infirmary right next door.”

“That’s a lot of square footage for one researcher,” Scully remarked. “And a part-time one, at that. I can use the labs at the hospital, you know.”

“I figure that in time you’ll have a staff here, same as me,” Mulder said. “If you agree, that is.”

“It could work,” she replied thoughtfully. “We won’t be ready for the next arrival, though. If Fletcher brings them here, we have to be ready to get them to the hospital.”

“Well, I don’t want him pulling up to our house in his unmarked white van,” Mulder said. “What would the neighbors say?”

“Speaking of keeping up appearances,” Scully said, “How do I explain my new patients? Amnesia isn’t exactly in my area of expertise.”

“But if you were given a grant to study it, would you consider a new interest?” Mulder asked.

“Someone’s offering a grant?” Scully asked suspiciously.

“I’ve had some money put away for a while,” Mulder explained. “From my father’s estate, for Samantha, if she ever came back.”

“I remember.” She didn’t know about it until after Mulder himself was thought dead. “It’s still in existence?”

“Oh yeah. I didn’t get around to changing it, before — you know. I think it’s time I put some of that bad money to good use. I talked to the lawyers today.”

x-x-x

Later that evening, after much arguing, Fletcher revealed Frohike’s alternate identity. Doggett suggested putting out a BOLO for “Frank Franklin”. Fletcher had refused to reveal more than the name. Then Monica found a Missing Persons report from the Tucson area filed for a Frank Franklin that day.

The report stated that Mr. Franklin had gone to Tucson with a Gibson Praise, and had not returned when expected.

“If he’s with Gibson, he’s probably already on his way here,” Mulder said.

“How can you be so sure?” Fletcher scoffed.

“I just know. I think you should come back here in a couple of days with the antidote, and we’ll take it from there.”

There was a good deal more wrangling before Fletcher reluctantly agreed.

After he left, Scully took Mulder aside. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Mulder. We don’t know anything about the antidote or how to administer it.”

“What’s the alternative, Scully? Letting Fletcher do it?” He sighed. “I know it’s not the optimal solution. At least you’ll be able to oversee it.”

Scully nodded, her expression grim. “You’re right, it’s not the optimal solution.”

When it came time to call it a night, some awkwardness arose regarding sleeping arrangements.

“I’d rather stay here,” Langly said, “if that’s okay.”

Connie said quickly that she’d rather stay too, although Scully invited her to go home with them. Connie had stuck close to Langly all day, helping him put together his computer components.

“We may have trouble getting her to go back to Chicago,” Scully observed to Mulder on the way home.

“Would that be such a bad thing? I don’t think there’s anyone to miss her in Chicago, as awful as that sounds. If she doesn’t want to go back, I wouldn’t force her to go. She seems like a quick study, and she gets along with Langly. That’s a feat in itself.”

“You’re right about her being alone. Monica did some checking, and Connie was in the foster care system for a long time. I wouldn’t tell her she had to leave here. It should be her choice. I don’t think she’s been given many.”

“I certainly wouldn’t turn her out,” Mulder said.

Scully sighed. “It’s all so wrong.”

“What’s wrong? What Fletcher did? Yes, it is.”

“Do two wrongs make a right? Should we allow Morris Fletcher to continue to control this?”

“We’re not going to let him,” Mulder said. “We’re giving them their lives back, the lives that he stole, getting them involved in that whole business.”

“The thing is,” Scully said, “their lives are being stolen again. It’s not just the Gunmen, either; we’re ruining other lives too. Look at Connie. Her life will never be the same.”

Mulder was silent for a long time. “It’s all wrong,” he said finally. “What’s happened to the guys is wrong, what’s happened to you and me is wrong. We’re trying to make some of it right. We can’t change the past, but maybe we can make the future better.” He sighed. “Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“No,” Scully agreed, “it’s not.”

Mulder reached over for her hand and held it for the rest of the ride home.

x-x-x

Somewhere outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, Frank saw flashing lights behind them. “Pull over,” he hissed to Gibson. “Act natural.”

Gibson did as he was told, speaking politely to the officer and handing over his license and registration when requested. Frank sat stock-still, staring straight ahead. He had nothing to be worried about, he told himself. He’d done nothing wrong; he was an adult and free to go where he pleased.

“Your identification, Sir?” The officer asked Frank.

Frank hesitated only slightly before handing it over. What would happen if he refused? Nothing good, he was sure. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he handed it over.

The officer barely gave it a glance, as if confirming something he was already sure of. “Mr. Praise, would you step out of the car, please? And you too, Mr. Franklin?”

The younger man looked at Frank with panic on his face. Frank was sure that his face mirrored Gibson’s.

Frank heard the officer on his radio. “I’ve apprehended the subjects, awaiting further instructions.” He couldn’t hear the reply on the radio.

“Should we make a break for it?” Frank murmured to Gibson.

Gibson didn’t answer right away; he was frowning a little, concentrating on the officer. Suddenly his face cleared a little. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s okay. Stay put.”

In a moment, the officer came back over to the car. “Mr. Praise, Mr. Franklin, I’ve been ordered to escort you to the closest FBI office.”

“Can you tell us why?” Gibson asked, although Frank was sure he already knew.

The officer said, “I do not have that information, Sir. The Deputy Director has instructed the local office to assist you in any way it can.”

x-x-x

“When are Gibson and Frohike arriving?” Scully asked the next morning. She drank her coffee, though it wasn’t helping her feel much more awake. Neither she nor Mulder had slept much after getting yet another late-night call, this time with the news that Gibson and Frohike had been found.

“They’re getting a flight first thing this morning,” Mulder said. “Doggett’s picking them up at the airport. He was all set to go down to Little Rock and escort them personally.”

“Does Fletcher know?”

“I took great pleasure in waking him up myself,” Mulder grinned. “He’ll be there. He says he has the antidote.”

“We’re not letting him anywhere near Frohike with it,” Scully said firmly. “And before ANYONE does anything, we’re going to talk to Frohike. We’re not just going to rush him off to the hospital. I want him to understand what’s happened.”

Mulder nodded. “That’s why I want you to come to the warehouse. We should talk to him together, in surroundings that are a little less threatening.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Scully promised, giving Mulder a swift kiss before rushing out the door. Why had she thought thirty miles was a short commute? It was beginning to feel like a hundred.

She had strong misgivings about administering an unknown drug. Langly was okay so far, but there was no telling how Frohike or Byers might react. The “grant” might cover liability for the hospital and her staff, but it wouldn’t make her less culpable, nor would it assuage her guilt if she did anything that harmed her friends.

The warehouse was looking more and more like the Gunmen’s old headquarters. Last night’s pizza boxes were still on the kitchen table and empty Red Bull and Jolt Cola cans were scattered around. The formerly empty racks along the wall were now filled with components blinking their various colored lights. Langly had pushed all the other furniture out of the partitioned-off computer area except for a couple of desks and a long table, which was covered with equipment that he’d been pulling apart. Several power cords and cables snaked along the floor to the table and the desks.

“It’s ridiculous to assume that the wireless connection is safe,” he was explaining to Connie, who nodded solemnly.

“How’s everybody doing?” Mulder asked. “I brought breakfast.” He held up a bakery bag.

Connie and Langly both looked up at the same time. Connie had a monitor and keyboard next to the one Langly was using. Data was scrolling across the screens. It was impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I haven’t lost my kung fu,” Langly said.

“Good to know,” Mulder replied. “How about you, Connie?”

“She’s a natural,” Langly enthused before she could answer. “She could be another Esther Nairn.”

Connie smiled a little. It was obvious she had no idea who Langly was talking about. “Roger, uh, Langly, taught me a lot of stuff,” she said.

Langly looked momentarily confused. “Oh. Yeah.”

Around noon, Doggett called to say that he and Monica were on their way from the airport.

Fletcher got there first. He was cagey about where he was staying. Mulder briefly considered seeing if Skinner would put a tail on him, tabling the thought for more urgent matters.

“Have you got the antidote?” Mulder asked.

“Nice to see you too,” Fletcher said. “Yes, I have it.” He held up a small black case. “Is Dana here yet?”

“That’s Doctor Scully to you,” Mulder said. “I’ve called her, and she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

Hearing voices, Langly came in from the computer room, Connie trailing behind him. Langly seemed not to notice he had a shadow following him. “What the hell is he doing here?” he said, gesturing at Fletcher. Connie glared at him.

“Mulder,” Fletcher warned, “you’d better keep him away from me if you want my help.”

“Is this guy who’s coming here a friend of yours?” Connie whispered to Langly.

“Yeah,” Langly said, surprised at the question. “Kind of. Yeah. We worked together.”

Doggett buzzed the door and Mulder let them in. He looked around at all the expectant faces. “I don’t think anyone expected a welcoming committee,” he said as he stood aside to let Gibson and Frank in.

Mulder, nearest the door, reached out his hand to Gibson. “Good to see you again,” he said, deadpan, and Gibson took his hand, only to be engulfed in a hug.

Frank stood uncertainly in the doorway. Mulder approached him.

“Mr. Franklin,” he said, “you don’t know me –”

“Sure I do,” Frank said easily in his gruff voice. “You’re Mulder.”

Hearing his old friend say his name was almost too much. He turned to Gibson.

“We had a long drive,” Gibson said. “I told him all about you, and Scully, and the other guys. What I knew, anyway.”

“But you never met the guys,” Mulder said.

“I knew them through you,” Gibson said. “And Frank, here, had memories of you, and Scully, and Langly and Byers. I can see them, even if he can’t.”

Langly had been standing in the background and now came forward. “Do you know me?” he demanded of Frank.

Frank thought a minute. “Yeah, your name is Langly, Richard Langly. I don’t know why I know that, I just do.”

Fletcher said, “He was the hardest to put under, for such a little guy. He really fought against the imprinting.”

“Who are you calling little, you overstuffed –” Frank started toward Fletcher. Doggett held him back.

“Get in line,” Langly said.

Amidst all the commotion, the door alarm rang.

“Do you think you guys can keep from throwing punches while I go let Scully ?” Mulder asked. He went to the door and opened it for Scully. “Welcome to the party. Frohike’s just gotten here.”

Without prompting, Frank walked right up to Scully. “Hello, pretty lady.”

Scully didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; she did a little of both. “Hello, Frohike,” she said.

“The name’s Frank,” he said with a wink, “but you can call me anything you like.”

Morris Fletcher clapped his hands together, startling everyone. “Okay, reunion’s over: time to get down to business.”

“I said we’re going to do this our way,” Mulder said. “That means full disclosure.”

“We need to explain to you about reversing the memory wipe,” Scully said gently to Frank. “If you don’t want to do it, we’re not going to force you.”

Fletcher made a snorting noise and rolled his eyes. “My way is much faster,” he said.

“Shut up, Fletcher,” Mulder said. “Fro-Frank, if you’ll come in, we’ll tell you what we know.”

Frank listened carefully to the two strangers. That asshole Fletcher hung around in the background, muttering objections, but everyone seemed to ignore him.

The man who’d introduced himself as Mulder and the pretty woman he called Scully did most of the talking. They seemed serious; moreover, they seemed to genuinely care about him. There was an inherent truthfulness in the way they spoke. Gibson, who had become a friend on their long road trip, sat nearby, not trying to convince Frank of anything, just listening along with him. The others were out of the room, although the one they called Langly had made a fuss about being kicked out at first.

Their story was incredible, but after what Gibson told him, not completely unbelievable. Gibson had that same trustworthy vibe about him, and he seemed to trust them.

In the end, the only stipulation he made was that he wanted to be sure that Carla, Teri, and his other employees at the diner were taken care of. “Some guy from the IRS was there,” he said, “and I don’t want them to lose the business because I forgot to dot an i or cross a t on some tax form or other.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Mulder said, with a hard look at Fletcher.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Fletcher muttered.

Once Frank agreed to go ahead with the procedure, Scully called the hospital to get the admissions process started. There would be a bed waiting for him when they got there.

“Why can’t we just do it here at the warehouse?” Fletcher asked.

Scully glared at him. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said. “If you don’t want to come along, you don’t have to. Just give me the antidote and tell me how it should be administered.”

“Nothing doing,” Fletcher said. “I’m coming along. You can call me Dr. Morris.”

“You are NOT getting anywhere near Fro — Frank at the hospital, and I am certainly NOT going to participate in any scheme in which you pretend to be a doctor,” Scully told him.

“Dr. Morris,” Mulder scoffed. “Great alias, by the way.”

“Hey, the IRS agent at the cafe was called Morris,” Frank recalled. “What gives?”

“I wouldn’t be too superior about aliases if I were you, ‘M. Luder’,” Fletcher sneered, ignoring Frank’s question.

“Boys,” Scully warned sternly. “If you don’t stop it right now, no one is going with me. Frank, are you ready to go?”

“I was born ready,” Frank said. “Let’s go.”

Scully drove Frank to the hospital with Mulder, Fletcher, and Gibson in the back seat. Fletcher kept glancing over at Mulder, keeping his mouth shut, for once. When Scully looked in the rear view mirror, Mulder and Fletcher looked like two teenage boys who’d been grounded.

At least this time their patient was able to walk with them up to the Neurology floor. Once Frank was settled in a room, Scully read the instructions that Fletcher had supplied, a single printed page folded into the case with the drugs to be used. She set up the drip herself as Nurse Chavez and Dr. Chandra assisted with the monitors.

Once the Frohike was attached to all the monitors, Scully thanked them both and told them she’d call them back if she needed assistance.

“Who wrote up these instructions?” Scully asked Fletcher, who was standing in the doorway.

He shrugged. “Someone in the lab. Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No, surprisingly, they’re fairly clear,” Scully replied. “I’d be much happier if there was more information about the drug itself and the indications, however.”

“Hey, it works,” Fletcher said. “What more do you need to know?”

“Plenty,” Scully said. “What about side effects? What about long- term effects?” She glanced over at Frank, hooked up to monitors with the drip ready to go. “How can we properly inform Frank, or anyone, of the risks if we don’t know what they are?”

“Mulder’s still here, and he’s okay,” Fletcher pointed out. “Aren’t you?” he asked Mulder pointedly. “Also,” he continued to Scully, “your friends agreed initially to the experiment. I think we have the signed consent forms on file somewhere –” he made a show of patting his coat pockets.

“Dr. Scully, I’m willing to take the risk,” Frank said. “If you promise me you’ll stay with me.”

“Of course I will,” she promised him, her eyes damp. “You’re sure about this, Frank?” she asked again.

Mulder glanced at Gibson, who nodded slightly. Fletcher noticed the silent exchange, his eyes narrowed.

“Hey, you know what they say: nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Frank joked, although his voice shook. “Go ahead, before I lose my nerve.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Scully promised.

Frank watched as if from a great distance as she prepared the needle and began the first injection into the IV line. Things started to get fuzzy right away. He focused on her soft hand holding his until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

~*~

Chapter Eleven

As promised, Scully stayed near Frohike through the night. She dozed on and off, always aware of the steady beep of the monitor and the still form in the bed.

A few hours after the start of the procedure, the monitor began to show an increased heart rate. Scully was immediately at Frohike’s side aware first, and was already at his bedside when the night nurse came into the room.

“I’ve got him, Nurse Miller,” Scully said. “Thank you.”

Scully checked Frohike carefully. He remained unconscious, but his eyelids fluttered and his breathing quickened somewhat. He moved restlessly, muttering under his breath.

Mulder, also asleep in the room, woke up as soon as he heard Scully. He stood a little behind her while she checked Frohike over.

“His temperature is normal,” she whispered to Mulder. “He seems to be dreaming. Although his brain and heart activity are slightly elevated they’re well within normal ranges. He doesn’t seem to be in any real distress.”

“Is he still under sedation?” Mulder asked.

“I haven’t given him anything since the initial dose,” Scully said. “What he’s experiencing seems more like natural sleep, assisted in some way by the drug. I think that Fletcher must have kept Langly knocked out for his own purposes.” The mere thought made her angry all over again. She had to remind herself to stay calm.

Mulder watched her and nodded in agreement with her. “Once the guys are all safe, we’ll figure out what to do about Fletcher,” he promised.

They watched Frohike as his eyes fluttered.

“Do you think he’s dreaming his old life, or his fake life?” Mulder asked. “Maybe that’s the process he’s going through — the past six years are being ‘dreamed away.'”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Scully said, “I don’t know how it could be proved, however.”

After several minutes, Frohike calmed down. So it went throughout the night. There were long stretches of calm followed by bursts of what appeared to be a dream state, then subsiding into quiet sleep again.

It was daylight when he fully woke up for the first time since the drug was administered.

“Frank? How are you feeling?” he heard a soft voice ask nearby. Who was Frank?

He opened his eyes to a beautiful woman standing over him. “Hello pretty lady,” he said.

She smiled, a little sadly. The bedside light formed a halo of light around her head. “Frank, how are you?” she repeated.

“Who’s Frank, Agent Scully?” he said. “And what am I doing in the hospital? Did we keep the toxin from spreading?”

x-x-x

“Two down, one to go,” Fletcher said cheerfully. Frohike had gone back to sleep after greeting everyone, still feeling the after effects of the drugs. Scully held his hand until he dropped off, at his request. Fletcher, Mulder, and Gibson sat in the family waiting room while Scully made sure that the tests she wanted were scheduled for Frohike. “We need to talk about Byers,” Mulder said. “I don’t want you going after him on your own.” “What do you mean?” Fletcher asked. “I don’t want Byers tricked,” Mulder said. “He needs to come willingly.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Fletcher asked.

“You’re the big smart Black Ops guy,” Mulder replied. “I’m sure that there are times when you’ve had to use persuasion rather than drugs or force.”

“Coercion and subterfuge are mainly how we roll.” Fletcher said. “I know: maybe you could get Grumpy and Dopey to go with me. They’ve been through it, so their input might be helpful.”

“Actually, I think that’s half a good idea, Fletcher. Tell me where Byers is, and we’ll go to him. Frohike and me, that is. Langly can stay here with Connie. You can sit this one out.”

“I don’t think so. I still have the antidote. You still have to play by my rules.”

“I wouldn’t willingly go with you anywhere,” Frohike growled from the door. Scully hovered behind him. “Not for anything.”

“Not for your friend and colleague?” Fletcher said. “Don’t you want him back here with you?”

“Only if he wants to come,” Frohike said. “Besides, who’s to say he’ll remember me?”

“We’re not trying to cut you out of anything, Fletcher,” Scully said. “We just want to make sure our friends are treated properly.”

“Suit yourself,” Fletcher said. “I’ll stay here with Dana, then.” He leered at her. Scully was used to being leered at. Usually, she took it in stride. But when Fletcher did it, it seemed so much creepier.

Mulder noticed too. He hesitated until Scully gave him a look that reminded him she could take care of herself.

“Frohike’s not going anywhere until I say so,” Scully said. “Once I’m sure he’s stable, we can decide what to do next.”

“I see who’s in charge here,” Fletcher said, doing his best to needle Mulder.

“It’s about time you realized that,” Mulder agreed. “You’ll find it makes things much easier.”

x-x-x

A few days later, once Scully was sure that Frohike was okay and well enough to travel, Mulder and Frohike found themselves at San Francisco International Airport, grounded by fog.

The closest airport to Perdita was in Eureka. Unfortunately, due to summer fog, landing anywhere along the north coast was intermittently impossible, and this was one of the impossible days. They were lucky that they were able to land in San Francisco. The choice was to fly to Redding and drive from there, or to drive from San Francisco. With the combined flying/driving times, there was little difference between the two.

Rather than wait for the next flight to Redding, Mulder decided they’d drive from San Francisco. Lariat’s map of Northern California didn’t list Perdita. The counter rep suggested that they get directions locally once they got up to Eureka.

The drive was about five hours, depending on weather conditions and traffic. He and Frohike were going to be in the car together for the whole day. He was glad to see his friend, but as a traveling companion, he’d rather have Scully.

“Did you and Agent Scully ever have a case up here?” Frohike asked.

“Yeah,” said Mulder. “It seems like a long time ago.”

“Big Foot country.”

“Oddly enough, we never investigated Big Foot out here.”

“Do tell. What did you investigate?”

“We did have a case that involved dwarves.”

“Is that a crack at my height?” Frohike asked indignantly.

“Of course not. There was a ring of illegal pot growers using dwarves as ‘mules’ to deliver their product.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No, you can ask Scully if you don’t believe me.”

“I think I will. Maybe you’d rather catch me up on what you and the luscious Doctor Scully been doing for the past six years?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got a long drive. I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve been doing, so spill. What’s been going on?”

x-x-x

“Come in, Agents,” Skinner invited Doggett and Reyes into his office.

Once they were seated and the door was closed, he asked, “What have you found out about Morris Fletcher?”

“Not as much as we’d like,” Doggett said. “We can’t go through official channels without attracting attention. We confirmed that he worked at Groom Lake. Seems like even that information might be suspect.”

“How so?” Skinner asked.

“It’s widely circulated in MUFON circles. However, we don’t know if we can trust our sources,” Monica continued. “We know he appeared at the DEFCON convention in 1999 — we have pictures to prove it. But we don’t know who he was representing at that time.”

“We’ve got someone working on confirming now,” Doggett added, “he’s gonna take a little while to get up to speed.”

“I’m not sure I want to know about that,” Skinner grunted. “How is the ‘recovery operation’ going?” Other than the calls from Mulder requesting assistance with one thing or another, he hadn’t heard much. His official duties took precedence. He could only blow off so many meetings with his section heads.

“It’s at two-thirds,” Doggett said. “The final stage is under way. We’re waiting to hear from the field on that one.”

“What about Fletcher? Do you know his whereabouts?”

“We’ve got the local office helping keep tabs on him,” Monica replied. “He doesn’t seem to stay in one location for long. He’s switched hotels about three times in the last week.”

Doggett added, “He seems very interested in Mulder’s new project. Mulder isn’t sure what’s behind his help — if it’s sincere, or if there’s another motive to it.”

Skinner sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There’s a lot at stake here. I’m going through some back-channels myself. The scuttlebutt I hear is that Morris Fletcher may have gone rogue. That he’s no longer involved with any agency in an ‘official’ capacity. It doesn’t rule out the possibility that he’s a contractor. The agency hiring him would have plausible deniability. A contractor can be blamed for doing something not officially condoned.”

“Yes, Sir,” both Agents Doggett and Reyes replied. “We’ll be paying a visit to the, uh, involved parties later today,” Doggett added. “We thought we should keep an eye on things, while, uh…”

“While the civilian consultants are out of town,” Monica finished for Doggett. She gave a lopsided smile to Skinner, who grimaced in return. They really had to come up with better code names.

“Just — keep your inquiries under the radar as much as you can. I don’t need Homeland Security on my back. The official policy is interagency cooperation. In reality, it’s every man for himself.”

x-x-x

Langly banged away at his keyboard, annoyed at having been left behind. Why had Frohike gone with Mulder, and not him? They’d told him that they needed him to start getting the computers set up, and it was true that he was the best choice for that. It didn’t stop him from resenting that Frohike just up and left. Frohike was the go-to guy for physical security and surveillance countermeasures. Even six years out of date he’d know more than Langly did.

Fortunately Fletcher had taken himself off, too. Gibson made him nervous. That was fine with Langly; he didn’t need him hovering around, asking questions and interfering.

Also lucky for him: Connie was sticking around. Monica had offered to take her back to Chicago, but she seemed reluctant to go. Mulder promised to help figure out what to do with the studio once they got the current situation figured out.

He remembered the last time he was with Frohike and Byers like it was yesterday and yet when he looked at himself in the mirror he could tell that time had passed. Things kept taking him by surprise. Computers had changed a lot. Even though there were a lot of improvements in computer security, it wasn’t hard for him to figure them out. Maybe security had improved, but people hadn’t changed. They were still sloppy, forgetful, and lazy, and that was always the hacker’s greatest advantage.

They were also way too trusting. Even with newer and bluer meanies out there, people still didn’t believe that the worst could happen, and maybe already had. That wasn’t something that could be said about him. Especially now.

x-x-x

Scully finished with the report on Langly’s and Frohike’s blood work and put aside her notes for transcribing later. She’d hoped that she might be able to determine the components of the solution that was used to facilitate memory restoration. So far she’d had no luck with it.

Word was already getting around about the “genius grant” awarded to Doctor Scully. The administrators of the Mulder Family Foundation had done an excellent job of informing the university of their award to Doctor Scully for the study of amnesia and brain chemistry. She was sure that Katy Chandra would still have questions; she was a good doctor and a good researcher. At some point Scully thought she’d want to bring her ‘inside’.

Even if she quit her current job and worked on an antidote to the black oil disease, or a weapon against the supersoldiers, she couldn’t do it without help. Mulder couldn’t do his part alone, either. The Gunmen’s help notwithstanding, a full-scale recruiting effort was necessary.

There was also the question of William. She wanted to believe that he was completely safe. That no one would find him. There was always the possibility that “They” still cared about him. She hoped that some day she would see her son again, once she knew it was safe to do so. That he would understand the decision she’d made to give him up, to keep him safe. More, she didn’t dare to hope for.

x-x-x

The sun was just setting as Mulder and Frohike arrived on the outskirts of Eureka. The sun turned the bay into molten gold as it sank below the horizon.

Except for necessity stops for a bathroom or to put gas in the car, they drove straight through. Mulder groaned as he stood up; it had been a long time since he’d driven nonstop for an extended period of time. Predictably, the worst of the fog had cleared about halfway through the trip, revealing glimpses of rugged coastline and stands of redwood and fir as the road wound northward.

“What are the chances we’ll get to Perdita tonight?” Frohike asked. They’d run out of conversation about an hour back.

It had been an interesting exercise, telling Frohike about what he and Scully had endured over the past six years. Only about two of those years were of any interest. Once they’d settled in Virginia there’d been little to tell. At least, little that Mulder felt inclined to share.

The hardest part had been telling him about William. His son was not a subject he could talk about to anyone other than Scully. Even that took an effort. Frohike was silent for a long time. “I’m sorry, man. Do you think that maybe, someday…”

“We haven’t discussed that,” Mulder said. “It’s not something I want to bring up.”

“I’m glad you told me. What about Langly, does he know too? You know how he can be.”

“Yeah, the first day. I guess it’s now part of our orientation lecture.”

Frohike snorted in amusement. “Previously on ‘This is Your Life.'”

“Yeah, I’d find it a lot funnier if it weren’t mine.”

“You and me both, my friend. What’s the plan?”

“Let’s see if we can find out where Perdita is. I hope it doesn’t live up to its name.”

x-x-x

“Scully, it’s me.”

She was starting to get used to these late-night calls again, and for once it was someone she enjoyed talking to. “Mulder, where are you?”

“Not quite the back of beyond, but we’re getting there. Frohike says hello.”

She could hear Frohike’s voice and a TV in the background. “I take it you haven’t gotten to your destination yet.”

“We’re close. We’ve been told that the road is tricky, and we thought it might be better to arrive in the light of day than to go knocking on his door late at night. How are things there?”

“Everything seems okay. No new crises, just the old ones. I miss you.”

Her words made him smile. “Me too,” he said, mindful of Frohike skulking around in the background.

“Call me when you see him,” Scully said.

“Of course,” Mulder replied.

x-x-x

The next morning, armed with a local map, they set out for Perdita. The cashier at the coffee shop where they’d had breakfast was also helpful.

“What takes you to Perdita?” she asked curiously. “It’s not like it’s a tourist destination.”

“We heard there were some good examples of California Victorian architecture there,” Frohike said. He’d lifted the sentence right out of one of the local brochures at the motel. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I guess so, though I think there are better ones here in Eureka,” she said doubtfully. “It’s a lot of bad road to take just to look at houses.”

“That might be, but you never know what you might find in these little places,” suggested Mulder with a smile, which got them the address for the only lodging in town, and a plug for a coffee shop there where her cousin worked.

“Smooth,” Frohike murmured as they left the coffee shop. “Way to sweet-talk the natives.”

“Look who’s talking, Don Juan Frohike,” Mulder retorted.

The road was not just bad, in some places it was almost non- existent. There were a few patches that could be described as paved in between potholes that must be harder to avoid when they were filled with water in winter. Some attempt had been made to smooth the road by resurfacing it with gravel, which created ruts that scraped the undercarriage of the car and shot small rocks up from the tires to dent the sides of the car and endanger the windshield. Mulder regretted not trading their sedan in for something with better suspension. He felt like he was in a pinball game, bouncing from one rut to the next.

“I don’t think we’re going to get the damage deposit back,” Frohike said.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Mulder said, concentrating on keeping the car from careening off the road completely.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they got to town. Morris Fletcher had told him Byers’ location and name, nothing more. They peered through the windshield at the dripping, fog-shrouded landscape.

Without warning, a sign for Perdita loomed into view. The road branched off; Mulder took the right-hand fork which soon led them onto the main street.

A lot of the buildings appeared to be original, or at least had been restored to the original. The firehouse was brick. Most of the other buildings appeared to be construction of wood, and most were ornamented with elaborate trim.

“It’s like the whole town was decorated by the Wicked Witch,” Frohike said. “Look at all that gingerbread.”

“Yeah, it’s like we’ve arrived in Fairytale Town. Try not to chew on the decorations, Hansel.”

“Ha ha. Where should we start looking? Should we ask the sheriff? Do you still have a badge?”

“The idea is to be low-key. That idiot Fletcher posed as an IRS agent when he visited you and Langly. We’re not trying to inspire fear, we just want to convince Byers to come back to D.C. with us.”

They drove slowly down the street. “Hey, there’s the newspaper office,” Frohike said. “That’s language I speak. I bet someone there knows who Brian Jordan is.”

x-x-x

Brian started to shut down the office computer and looked around, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. Tomorrow, he’d be leaving with Annie for San Francisco. It was a small step, but Annie was pleased.

The door to the front office of the paper jangled, and he looked up with a smile, expecting Annie. She was joining him for lunch at Donna’s.

Instead, two people stood in the doorway. The glare from outside made it hard for him to see their faces at first. He thought it might be a man and a boy; one figure was considerably shorter. Neither spoke.

Brian asked, “Can I help you? I’m sorry to say that the paper is on hiatus right now. I was just –”

The shorter of the two spoke in a deep, gruff voice. “Byers?” was all he said.

“I’m sorry, who?” Brian asked. As they stepped away from the door, he could see that the shorter of the two was not a boy at all, but a grizzled-looking man. He looked at Brian with a surprised expression, as though he knew Brian and hadn’t expected to see him here.

“Actually,” said the taller of the two men, “we were looking for Brian Jordan. I think we’ve found him.”

~*~

Chapter Twelve

Brian looked at the two men in confusion. “Do I know you?” he asked. “Don’t you remember me?” Frohike asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Brian said, looking panicked.

“Unbelievable. We lived together for years!” Frohike exclaimed, watching his old friend’s face go totally white.

“Not the way you seem to think,” Frohike added hastily, “not that there’s anything wrong with it. But I got a thing for the ladies, man. Seriously.”

“I think we’re moving a little too fast for Mr. Jordan,” Mulder suggested. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? My name’s Mulder, by the way, and this is Melvin Frohike.”

“I’m expecting my wife any minute,” Brian said. “Whatever you have to tell me, maybe it’s something she should hear, too.”

“You’re married?” Frohike exclaimed. “Of all the –”

“Settle down, Frohike,” Mulder said. “I think it might concern her, too. It has something to do with your past. Nothing bad,” he hastened to add, seeing Brian’s expression change again. “Weird, maybe. I think you’ll both find the information of interest.”

Brian sat down suddenly. “Are you — did you know me? Before the accident?”

“What accident?” Frohike asked.

“I was in a boating accident. It was six years ago, in San Diego. I don’t remember anything about it. I was the only survivor,” Brian said. “They told me I might never regain my memories. No one who knew me has ever come forward before now.”

“That’s because–” Frohike started to explain. Mulder cut him off.

“I think we should wait until Mr. Jordan’s wife is here. We can explain it to both of them,” he suggested.

“Explain what?” A woman stepped into the office. She was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Brian, what’s going on?”

“I — I don’t know,” Brian said. He stood up again, remembering his manners. “This is — Melvin Frohike and Mr. Mulder. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your first name,” he said to Mulder.

“Fox Mulder,” Mulder said. “You must be Mrs. Jordan?”

“I’m Annie Jordan, yes,” she said, standing by Brian. “What is this about?”

“These men say that they know me,” Brian said.

“Really?” asked Annie. “Then, where have you been for the past six years?”

x-x-x

Connie supposed it was time she went home. Everyone here had been nice — even Roger — Langly — was nice in a distant way. He seemed to look through her, not at her. He didn’t mind her company, especially if he could show off some of his hacking skills. It seemed to her that Roger was still in there, somewhere. But his focus had changed, and he obviously knew all these people who came and went in this place that he now called home.

Mintage Sound had been her home. At first, it had been just a place to crash, one in a long line of temporary shelters. Little by little, she’d made a place for herself there. Roger had stood in for family — acting like a bossy big brother sometimes, mostly pursuing a policy of separate but equal as far as their private lives were concerned. He’d allowed her to create her own living space. It wasn’t something that would ever appear in House Beautiful, but it was hers.

She flopped on the sofa in the lounge. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Chicago without Roger. He was the boss, the engine that drove the studio. She wasn’t sure she could do it on her own; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. Oh, the people here had said stuff about getting help for her. It just wouldn’t be the same. Maybe she could persuade Langly to go back with her — maybe being at the actual studio would help him to remember.

She picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Someone was always switching it to CNN — that Mulder guy, probably. He seemed to be the one in charge. News was boring; there was always something getting blown up or blown down or flooded or —

She sat up as the announcer said, “…in the gradually gentrifying warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago…”

“Roger!” she screamed. “Langly! Come here quick!”

x-x-x

Either Morris Fletcher was an expert at covering his tracks online, or he, Langly, was losing his touch.

He doubted that the latter was true. He tapped away, and set another program to search protected databases on Connie’s computer. She’d gone into the other room to take a nap. He could hear the murmur of the TV. Other than that, the only sounds were his fingers clicking on the keyboard, and the whirr of the machines around him.

Connie exclaimed “SHIT!” from the other room, startling him. She came running into the computer room.

“Ro – Langly, come here quick!”

Langly followed her into the lounge in time to see it: a large fire in a warehouse district near Chicago. Connie grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

“…it’s not known what caused the explosion which started the fire, or if anyone was in the building. The spokesperson for the Chicago Fire Department says they expect to have it contained by nightfall. At this time, none of the surrounding buildings are in danger. In other news…”

“We’ve got to do something!” Connie exclaimed.

“Yeah, but what?” Langly said. “We’re too far away. It’s too late.”

“I checked everything before I left, I swear,” Connie said. “I set the alarms, I was really careful.”

“I’m sure you were,” Langly said. Connie looked so lost standing there. “It wasn’t your fault.” He reached out and hugged her around the shoulders. “We’ll find out who did this, and make him pay.”

Connie leaned against his shoulder and sobbed. Awkwardly, Langly patted her and let her cry.

He had a pretty good idea who did this. He needed to get hold of Mulder and tell him what was going down.

x-x-x

Annie volunteered to go get sandwiches from Donna’s. “You can stay here,” Annie suggested to Mulder and Frohike. “We’ll come back and then you can tell us why you came all the way to Perdita, instead of just picking up the phone.”

Mulder and Frohike looked at each other. Frohike shrugged; he wasn’t sure they should be let out of sight, but Mulder seemed to think it was okay.

It was a short walk, just across the street. Mulder could see them talking to each other as they slowly walked away.

“You don’t think they’ll make a run for it, do you?” Frohike wondered.

“Why would they do that?” Mulder asked.

Frohike shrugged. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if some strangers showed up claiming that they knew you, and that they had something important to tell you?”

“I think it’d be more likely they’d get some of their friends to come back with them, to make sure that we didn’t try anything. We’re outnumbered here, Frohike.”

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Annie asked Brian as they waited for their order.

“No, I don’t remember them at all, but they seem to recognize me.”

“We don’t have to go back there,” Annie slipped her hand into his. “We could go out the back way and get the car, and leave for vacation early. We’re practically packed.”

She could see that Brian was only tempted by this idea for a moment. He didn’t know what these two men wanted any more than she did, but it was obvious that he wanted to find out. “No, I don’t think we should,” he said gently but firmly. “We can’t do that. Why run away? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

Annie stood closer to Brian and he put his arm around her. “You’re right,” she said, although she wasn’t completely sure. It was so important to Brian to know about his past. “Whatever it is they want we’ll listen to them, and then we can decide what to do.”

x-x-x

Skinner’s private line rang. The ID screen was blank, which was not a surprise; the few people who had this number were not trusting individuals, and with good reason.

“Hello, Sir,” said a familiar but unexpected voice.

“Dana, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Skinner said. He’d expected to hear from Mulder rather than Scully. He’d already heard about Chicago from Agent Reyes; she and Agent Doggett were on their way there.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m sorry I haven’t called since we’ve been back.” He could hear traffic noises; she must be in her vehicle.

“It’s Walter, remember?” he said. “This isn’t a social call, is it?”

“No, Sir, it’s not. I’m sorry to bother you –”

“I know you wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. Where is he?”

“In Northern California. Someplace where cell phone service is intermittent, or I’d call him directly. Do you have any contacts in the Eureka area?”

x-x-x

“That’s — that’s an incredible story,” Brian said as Mulder finished telling him the tale of the Gunmen’s demise and their subsequent resurrection, with frequent asides and interruptions from Frohike, filling in the background of the Gunmen’s history and various crusades.

“Incredible but true, my friend,” Frohike said.

Brian and Annie sat side by side at the table in the Perdita Press’ office, opposite Mulder and Frohike. As Mulder told the tale of the Gunmen, they moved closer and closer together, until now they seemed joined, shoulder to shoulder. Brian took Annie’s hand nearest to him. They sat with fingers entwined as they tried to process the astounding information these two strangers had just shared.

“I’m still not sure I follow,” Annie said. “You want to inject Brian with something to make him remember who he is? Is this stuff safe? Has it been tested?”

“Two of us have had the ‘treatment,'” Frohike told them. “No real side effects, except that you won’t remember the life you’re living now.”

“Excuse me, that’s a big ‘side effect,'” Annie pointed out.

“It’s Brian’s choice,” Mulder said. “I wanted to lay the facts out to you, so that whatever choice you make is an informed one. And I don’t expect you to make this decision on the spot, though you can’t delay for too long,” he added.

“What happens if I say no?” Brian asked.

Mulder rubbed his hand over his face. “Frankly, I don’t know.” He was beginning to realize that it wasn’t much of a choice he was offering. If Morris Fletcher was truly a renegade, the agency he used to work for was probably already pulling the plug. They might be coming even now for Brian. He glanced at his cell phone; no service bars. He’d have to find a payphone somewhere to call Skinner and try to get protection for these two.

“It seems to me that it’s not a choice between having this done or not, is it?” Annie said, putting Mulder’s fears into words. “Only who will do the procedure, and where and when it will be done.”

The bell on the handle of the front door jangled, startling everyone. Mulder’s reflex was to reach for a gun, something that wasn’t lost on the new arrival.

“Put your hands in the air,” he said. Mulder obeyed. “Brian, Annie: are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Annie said under her breath. Aloud she said, “We’re fine, Nate. Why?”

The man who marched into the office wore a sheriff’s uniform. “Sure you’re okay?” He walked around the table to stand next to Annie and Brian.

“I’m not armed,” Mulder said. “Force of habit.”

“All the same, could you please stand up and put your hands over your head, and walk over there?” The sheriff gestured away from the door with his gun. “You, too,” he said to Frohike. “Annie, I know you’re a good shot. Why don’t you hold this while I check these guys over?”

Annie trained the gun on them as the sheriff stepped behind Mulder and Frohike and briskly and efficiently frisked them both.

“Okay, you can sit down again,” the sheriff said, and took the gun from Annie, much to Mulder’s relief. “I just got a strange call about you. I’m not in the habit of personally delivering messages, but the call came in at my office, and I think you’re going to want to return it right away.” He turned back to Annie and Brian. “I think you should come along, too. This concerns you.”

“What is this about?” Annie demanded.

“It seems like your husband’s cover in the Witness Protection Program has been blown,” the sheriff said.

x-x-x

Mulder recognized the number as Skinner’s private one as he punched it into the sheriff’s phone.

“Skinner.”

“It’s me,” Mulder said.

“Mulder. Have you heard about Chicago?”

“The sheriff here said something about a warehouse fire?” Mulder threaded his way carefully; he wasn’t sure how much of the real story the sheriff knew. He was just outside the inner office, talking with Annie, Brian, and Frohike. They could all be listening.

“Yes, that’s right. We’re concerned that Mr. and Mrs. Jordan may be in danger as a result of recent events. Can you bring them in?”

“Are you sending someone to meet us? I’m concerned that the interested parties already know their whereabouts.”

“We’ve asked Sheriff Barrett to help you out. He’s going to provide transportation and we’ll have you rendezvous with your protection at the closest safe house. I don’t think you want to stay in your present location any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“I copy. Where are we headed?”

“Call this number again when you get in range,” Skinner said. “I’ll give you the location.”

“Okay. We’d better get this show on the road.”

Mulder went back out to the outer office. “I guess you’ve gathered that you’re in some danger,” he told the Jordans. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave this afternoon. It takes time to get here, but I don’t know how much of a lead we’ve got. Sheriff, is there another way out of town other than the highway toward Eureka?”

“There are a lot of old logging roads around here,” Barrett said. “They’re in terrible condition, but they’re only known to the locals.”

“That rental car will never make it. What kind of car do you two have?” he asked Brian and Annie. “It’s not the best solution, but I don’t think we should head back to Eureka.”

“We’ve got a four wheel drive,” Annie said. “It’s practically packed. We were going on vacation,” she added a trifle wistfully.

“That’ll have to do,” Mulder said. “It’ll look like you’re just heading out early. Do you agree?”

Brian glanced at Annie and nodded. She seemed to be taking all this in stride; although he didn’t think that witness protection entailed erasing the protectee’s memories.

“I have a better idea,” Barrett said. “Bring it here and park it in the municipal garage, in the back. You can take my brother’s SUV. I’m keeping it for him while he’s on deployment. You can tell me where you’ve left it once you’re safely away.”

“That’s a great idea, Sheriff Barrett. Thank you.” Mulder said, surprised. “That’s going above and beyond interagency cooperation, I’d say.”

“Let’s just say I’m doing it for an old pal in the Marines,” Nate Barrett said, gesturing to the Marine Corps plaque on his wall.

Frohike grinned. “Semper Fi,” he said.

“Damn straight,” agreed Sheriff Barrett.

~*~

Chapter Thirteen

Scully paced back and forth. There was nothing she could do, but until Mulder called and let her know he was safe — that they were safe — she wouldn’t be able to settle.

“You know that we might not hear from them tonight,” Skinner said.

“Mulder will call,” Scully said. “As soon as they’re anywhere he can do so safely, he’ll call.”

It was close to midnight when he finally did.

“Mulder, where are you?” Scully asked.

“I’m at the safe house.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all just great. It’s hotter than hell here. They say it’s a dry heat, though.”

She breathed a silent prayer of thanks. “When will you be back?”

“That’s up to Skinner. Is he there?”

Scully handed the phone over to Skinner.

“Hey, Skinman, how’s it going? Did you send the stuff?”

“Don’t call me that. Yes, you should have it by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great, ’cause I think the natives here are restless. I don’t want them to think too hard about this. They might do a bolt. I don’t suppose you’ve found our friend yet?”

“He’s still at large.”

“He’ll crawl out of the woodwork eventually. We have something he wants.”

“Just make sure that we keep it,” Skinner said.

x-x-x

“What do you make of all this?” Annie whispered to Brian. They were alone in their room at a small motel outside of Redding. Mulder had told them they would be continuing on to Sacramento the next day, and from there back to Washington.

The ride from Perdita had been tense, and very long. They’d stopped in some small town for gas and snacks and then they’d pushed on to the “safe house” which turned out to be this fleabag motel.

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“Do you believe these people? Do you trust them?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have just left with them, except that Nate seemed to think that they were on the level. He said he’d gotten a call from the Deputy Director of the FBI. Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He smiled a crooked smile. “They seem trustworthy. We’re not being held at gunpoint. I guess we had a choice, somewhere back there. I don’t know what my instincts are worth, though: since I don’t even know who I am.”

“What about this John Byers that they keep saying you are? Does he sound familiar?”

“I don’t recall ever hearing the name before,” Brian said. “But both Mr. Mulder and Mr. Frohike seem to know him. Me. If that’s who I really am.”

Someone knocked quietly at their door. “It’s me, Frohike,” a voice whispered loudly.

Brian opened the door.

“How’s everybody doing?” Frohike asked. He was such a strange little man, Annie thought. But he had a kind face.

“We’re okay, considering,” Brian said.

“Yeah, I know it’s weird,” Frohike said. “I’ve got a six-year gap in my memory. I have a friend who’s told me where I was and what I was doing, but I don’t remember any of it.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Brian asked.

“It pisses me off that I lost six years, yeah,” Frohike said. “But the life I was living, it wasn’t my real life. I guess I was happy enough in my ignorance, but I think on the whole I’m glad to have my old life back.”

“How can you say that if you don’t remember it?” Annie asked.

“That’s a fair point,” Frohike said. “But before, I was doing something worthwhile. I was fighting the good fight. For six years I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“I don’t know what I’m missing now,” Brian said, “I do know what I’d be leaving behind. I don’t know if that’s a fair trade-off.”

“I’m not here to convince you of that, man. But take some time to find out more about John Fitzgerald Byers before you decide.” He saluted them and left.

x-x-x

Connie sat glumly in front of the TV. Langly was nearby, as was Monica Reyes. No one felt like talking. The news said the fire had gutted the studio but no one knew what had caused the explosion yet.

Agent Doggett had come back with Monica, fetched Gibson, and left for someplace unspecified. The three of them were left waiting for something. Connie didn’t know, and she told herself she didn’t care, either.

She hadn’t been sure that she wanted to go back to Chicago. Now that it wasn’t an option, she wished she had. Maybe she could have saved the studio, somehow.

Monica’s phone rang. She stood up and left the lounge. Connie could hear her murmuring into the phone. She hung up before coming back in.

“Mulder has them,” she said to Langly. “They’re safe for now. They should be here tomorrow.”

Langly looked, if not pleased, a little less angry. This news did nothing for Connie. She didn’t know who they were talking about or why she should care. It seems that rescuing them was more important than her life, anyway.

Monica sat down next to her. “You have a place here, you know,” she said quietly. “For as long as you want. For always, if that’s what you want.” She put her arm around Connie’s shoulders. “I know this is hard for you.”

Connie put her face against Monica’s shoulder, and allowed herself to cry.

x-x-x

It was still dark outside when Mulder’s phone rang on the bedside table. “I don’t remember leaving an early wake-up call,” he mumbled.

“Mulder, it’s me,” said Scully.

“You do realize it’s three hours earlier here?” he teased. He looked out the front window; Frohike was sitting on a bench outside, keeping watch on their traveling companions.

“Do you think you can get to the airport in time for a noon flight?” she asked. “Skinner is having the tickets and other documents sent directly there.”

“I like that better than waiting here. I feel like our charges might change their minds,” he said.

“That’s a good reason, but there’s more to it,” Scully said. “Skinner authorized Agents Doggett and Reyes to check out the fire in Chicago,” Scully said, “and I think they found something there.”

“Did he tell you what?” Mulder asked, now fully awake.

“No, but I have an idea, and I bet you do, too. It’s not something anyone wants to talk about over the phone. Just get back as soon as you can.”

They were on the road an hour later. After a long day cooped up in the car the day before, no one felt much like talking. Mulder kept one eye on the rearview mirror. No one seemed to be following. The freeway was a long straight stretch, mainly through rice fields, olive orchards, and the occasional town. The tallest buildings around were grain silos.

His passengers dozed. No one had gotten much sleep, he was sure. He’d taken first watch and the Jordans’ light had been on very late. It was hard enough to make life or death decisions when you knew it was something you’d signed up for. How hard it must be for someone like Annie — or Byers, in his current persona — to be pulled into something like this out of the blue. It wasn’t going to get any easier for them, either.

They got to the airport in plenty of time. They left the SUV in the long term lot. Mulder would tell Skinner, who would let Sheriff Barrett know where to find it once they were safely home.

The four of them headed for the ticketing area. Even the normally loquacious Frohike was subdued. Mulder scanned for anyone who looked like they might be a contact. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw John Doggett and Gibson Praise approaching.

“Talk about calling out the Marines,” Mulder said. “How’d you get stuck with this detail?”

“What’s your saying?” Doggett said as he shook hands with Mulder. “Trust no one? I think Skinner is taking it to heart. We’re here to get you home. It was Scully’s idea to send Gibson. She thought he’d make a good ‘early warning system’.”

“Trust no one,” Mulder agreed. “It’s the phrase that’s sweeping the nation.”

~*~

Chapter Fourteen

“Home again,” Mulder said as they pulled into the drive of their house many hours later. Scully had met them at the airport and Doggett had volunteered to take Frohike back to headquarters while Mulder and Scully took the Jordans back to their house for the night.

Fletcher hadn’t been answering his phone and no one had heard from him since the fire. Scully suggested that it would be better to take Brian and Annie home and put them up for the night than to take them to the warehouse.

“This might be the last night that they get to spend together,” Scully said. “Let’s give them that, at least.”

It was a little awkward and surreal, probably more so for Annie and Brian than for them, Mulder reflected. He agreed with Scully that everyone might better face the decisions that had to be made in the morning.

Annie asked if she could borrow a computer when they were shown to their room.

Scully looked at Mulder. “Sure,” he said. “But I want to caution you that you shouldn’t log onto your email account, or let anyone know where you are. If there’s someone who needs to know you’re safe, let me know who they are and we’ll get word to them.”

“So we are in witness protection?” Annie asked.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” Scully said. “It’s better to be overly cautious until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I just want to check out some things that Mr. Frohike mentioned,” Annie said. “I won’t email anyone, and neither will Brian.”

Scully handed over a laptop. “Here, you can use this in your room if you want privacy.”

“That’s awfully trusting of you, Scully,” Mulder remarked. “Are you sure she won’t do something dumb, like send an email?”

“I think she’s protective of someone she loves,” Scully said, “and until she knows more about what’s going on, she’s going to be careful.”

x-x-x

Annie booted up the borrowed laptop. Brian sat on the bed next to her. He’d been subdued since leaving Perdita. After Frohike had left them the night before, they’d talked for a long time.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” Brian had told her. “Maybe it would have been better if –”

Annie stopped him by putting her fingers on his lips. “You are not allowed to say that it would have been better if we’d never met,” she said. “You didn’t talk me into anything; I knew that you were essentially a man with a mysterious past when I married you. For better or worse: and I don’t think you’re a bad person. As soon as we can get to a computer, I’m going to do what your friend suggested: find out what I can about the mystery man I married. This John Fitzgerald Byers.”

“You may not like what you find,” Brian warned her.

“I guess we’ll have to take that chance,” she’d said.

Now they were at the moment of truth. She brought up a search page and typed “John Fitzgerald Byers” into the search box.

The request returned both print and image results. The thumbnail images were small, and the first picture they pulled up was out of focus, but it was unmistakably Brian. A much younger Brian, with a beard; still, unmistakably him.

“Wow,” Brian said. He reached for the touchpad and clicked on one of the entries.

The title of the page was “In Memoriam,” and showed a picture of him, Frohike, and someone named Langly as well.

They silently read the entry, outlining the same events that Mulder had recounted to them two days before.

“We’ve both been trying to find out more information about Brian Jordan,” Annie said after a moment. “And the funny thing is there’s not much to find from before I met you. A couple of articles quoted that you wrote. Not much else. But look at all the information about John Fitzgerald Byers.”

She pulled up another page: a Wikipedia entry. Annie scrolled down the page slowly, stopping at a section entitle, “A Heroic End.”

“Quote,” she spoke softly in his ear. “‘We never gave up, we never will. In the end, if that’s the best they can say about us, it’ll do’.”

They stared at the screen for a while, taking it all in.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Brian said finally. He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face; they were a mirror of Annie’s.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll be right here,” she whispered. “And if one of us gets lost, we won’t give up. We’ll keep looking.”

With a sob, Brian pulled Annie close to him. Their lips found each other, and they kissed and clung to each other, saying goodbye.

x-x-x

The next morning, just as they were getting ready to leave for the warehouse, Mulder’s phone rang.

“Did you miss me?” said Morris Fletcher.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mulder asked

“Oh, around,” Fletcher replied vaguely. “Did you get your errand completed?”

“Yes, no thanks to you.”

“You said didn’t need my help. Where are you right now?”

“Heading to the office. Do you have the supplies?”

“Yes I do. But I don’t want to meet you there just yet. There’s a diner about a mile away from there. Can you — just you — meet me there in an hour?”

“I suppose so.” Mulder hung up and turned to Scully. “There’s a slight change of plans. Can you go directly to the place, and I’ll come by after I’ve met with Fletcher.”

“I want to go with you,” Scully said.

“Someone has to stay with our guests. I’ll get backup; don’t worry.”

x-x-x

They could see Fletcher from the door when they walked in. He didn’t look pleased that Skinner had come along.

“What part of ‘alone’ did you not understand?” he said sarcastically. “I’d just as soon not have more attention drawn to me right now.”

“Live with it,” Mulder suggested. They seated themselves in the booth, Skinner next to Fletcher, and Mulder on the other side, giving them a good view of the whole diner.

Once they were seated and the waitress delivered coffee, Mulder started in on Fletcher. “What the hell were you trying to prove?” he hissed. “You haven’t been answering your calls, and now this thing in Chicago? I told you to hold off.”

“Did you stop to think that maybe I’m not the one who did it?” Fletcher retorted. “Operation Wipe Out was a covert government program. They’re cutting their losses. They certainly wouldn’t have let you take over the site.”

“Then we’re all in danger,” Mulder said. “Unless you can call them off.”

“They’re not real pleased with me right now,” Fletcher said. “I’m trying to spin this the best possible way — they started remembering on their own, etc., etc. Even then there’s the possibility they’d want to permanently terminate the program.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe your pal Gibson would be able to tell you,” Fletcher said. “He can read minds, am I right?”

Skinner and Mulder looked at each other.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like he wasn’t part of a government program, too. Same as you, Mulder. Some were just more successful than others.”

“If we weren’t in public, you piece of –” Mulder growled.

“That’s exactly why we’re in public,” Fletcher smirked. “I have a deal to offer you. I have what you need to get your friend Byers back, but I want something in exchange. I’ll trade you: Gibson for the Gunmen. That’s three for one. That’s an excellent deal.”

“I don’t trade in humans,” Mulder said. “You never said that was part of the deal.”

“You never knew what any part of the deal was. I told you I could deliver your friends, and I’ve done it. What do I get in return?”

“Maybe I don’t shoot you,” Mulder said. “How’s that for a bargain?”

“You don’t have a gun,” Fletcher scoffed.

“Skinner does,” Mulder said.

Skinner began to reach inside his coat.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Fletcher shouted. Heads started to turn, and he lowered his voice. “What kind of lawless bunch of thugs are you? You can’t do that! You’re supposed to be the good guys!”

“You’re right, we can’t,” Skinner said. “However, I’m guessing we could probably get a charge of kidnapping or unlawful imprisonment to stick. So if you don’t mind your p’s and q’s, I’ll have you locked up and throw away the key.”

“I’ve half a mind to just walk out of here,” Fletcher huffed.

“Go ahead,” Skinner said. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”

“I do,” Fletcher said. “You’re the good guys, and you don’t have the balls it takes to stick it to the other side. You won’t play dirty, and that’s why you lose.”

“I didn’t mean us,” Skinner said. “You say you weren’t involved in the fire in Chicago. Do you know for sure that your ‘agency’ was?”

Fletcher was silent.

Skinner went on. “Mulder, you haven’t even heard the whole story yet. Doggett and Reyes found evidence of super soldiers at the burn site. We believe that they were either involved in the destruction of the studio, or someone was trying to destroy them.”

Fletcher still didn’t speak. From the look in his eyes he hadn’t known that either.

“So that’s why Scully asked Gibson to come to California with Agent Doggett,” Mulder said to Skinner. “He’s the closest thing we have to a super soldier detector.”

“If you don’t think the good guys aren’t capable of sticking it to the bad guys,” Skinner said to Fletcher, “wait and see.”

x-x-x

The atmosphere was subdued at the warehouse when Mulder arrived with Fletcher in tow. Introductions had been made, and there had been some awkward small talk. Now Annie and Brian sat in the lounge with Scully. The others had made themselves scarce while she talked to them about the procedure.

“Do you mean I’ll forget everything?” Byers asked. He clutched at Annie’s hand. “It will be as if Brian Jordan never existed?”

“So far, that seems to be the way it works,” Scully said. She looked from Byers to Annie. “I wish I could tell you something different. But it’s early days yet. Neither Langly nor Frohike have recalled anything about their other identities, but it’s only a short time since they’ve recovered their original memories. That could change.”

“Are there any alternatives?” Annie asked.

“Deputy Director Skinner has offered to put you both into witness protection. Whether or not you can be protected indefinitely is unclear. There may be other agencies involved. If you decide to go through with this now, at least it will be on your own terms.” Scully smiled sadly. “I can speak from experience that it’s not much fun living life looking over your shoulder all the time. Even if you know who you are.”

She stood up, and Brian the gentleman stood up as well. “I’m going to leave you two to discuss this.” She left the lounge and went into the kitchen where the others waited.

“What’s going on?” Mulder asked.

“They’re talking it over,” Scully said. “I don’t know, Mulder. It seems so unfair. They have a life together. To take everything away, not just from Byers, but from Annie, too: it’s wrong.”

“I agree,” Mulder said. “But what’s the alternative? A life on the run, or,” he glanced at Fletcher, “apprehension by this shadow agency?”

Brian appeared at the door, Annie by his side. “We’ve decided,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Fifteen

They arrived at the hospital in caravan. Scully drove Annie and Brian. Mulder followed with Fletcher, Frohike, Langly, Gibson, and Connie. No one wanted to wait at the warehouse for the outcome. Scully had tried to convince them that not everyone had to come to the hospital. In the end, however, it didn’t seem fair that anyone be left out.

Only Annie was allowed to go into the room with Brian and Scully. The rest were asked to wait in a small conference room that Nurse Chavez had reserved as a “family waiting room” at Scully’s request.

Annie did her best not to cry as Brian was attached to various monitors by Dr. Scully.

“You’re going to get sleepy,” Scully explained to Brian, “and, when you wake up, you’ll remember who you were before.”

Brian nodded. “Can Annie stay with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Scully said. Her own throat was tight. How many times had she sat by Mulder’s hospital bed, watching and waiting for him to wake up and see her? It wouldn’t be like that for Annie. Her partner was being taken away from her, possibly forever.

She blinked back her own tears and injected the antidote into the drip. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” she said, and left them alone.

Brian smiled up at Annie. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll do my best to remember that.”

“I love you too,” Annie said. “And I’ll never forget.” She leaned down and kissed him, and felt his lips return the pressure before they relaxed into unconsciousness.

x-x-x

Down the hall in the conference room, the rest waited for word on their friend.

Frohike was telling Langly about finding Byers in Perdita, and about Annie. “Don’t you think she looks like Susanne?” Frohike asked Langly.

“Dude, how can you tell what she’s like? You’ve known her about three days.” Langly said. “Just because they’re both blonde doesn’t make her like Susanne.”

“Blonde, and a scientist,” Frohike said. “She was teaching high school science, but she studied microbiology.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Langly said. “Susanne was a dream, anyway. Byers knew he’d probably never see her again.”

“Well, Frohike said, “Annie seems nice, and she seems to love Byers – – I was never sure that Susanne did.”

“You were just jealous,” Langly accused.

“No way,” Frohike said, hand on his heart. “I’ve always loved Agent Scully. Nothing can turn me from that love. It’s a pure and devoted love, the physical is not necessary.”

“Only because Scully would probably kick your ass if you tried anything.”

“Who’s Susanne?” Annie asked from the door. She’d sat with Brian for more than an hour. Scully was in his room now, checking his vital signs.

“No one important,” Frohike said quickly.

“Please tell me,” Annie asked.

“She was someone Byers knew a long time ago,” Frohike said. “They weren’t dating or anything.”

“No, Byers just had a massive crush on her,” Langly interjected. “Frohike thinks you look like her.”

“She was a damsel in distress. Byers helped her out. She disappeared. She came back, and needed help again. Byers helped her out again. We helped her disappear. End of story,” Frohike said. “It was more than ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Annie said. That wasn’t something that had been mentioned on the websites they’d looked at together. But of course Brian had had a life as John Byers. These two knew more than any website would know. “Can you tell me more about Bri — John Byers?” she asked.

“What do you want to know?” Langly asked.

“Whatever you can tell me,” Annie said.

When Scully checked in on the group in the room, Langly and Frohike were regaling Annie with tales of their friend.

“It’s a little like a wake,” she remarked to Mulder out in the hallway.

“A little,” he agreed. “What do you think will happen when Byers wakes up?”

“I don’t think he’s going to know Annie,” she replied. “It’s going to be hard for her.”

Mulder put his arms around Scully. “I know.”

Scully rested her head against Mulder’s chest. “I wish there was something we could do for her.”

“Well,” said Mulder, “we can give her something to put her back up against. I have an idea.”

x-x-x

When Annie checked in on Brian again, Scully was by his bedside. She nodded, and whispered, “Why don’t you get some sleep,” and indicated the other bed in the room. Mulder was dozing in a reclining chair nearby.

She shook her head and wandered back to the waiting room. Someone had brought in a couple of thermal containers of coffee and hot water.

Connie sat there alone, stirring a cup of what looked like cocoa. She gave a little half-smile. “Want some hot chocolate?” she offered.

Annie nodded and Connie got another mug and filled it from the hot water container, handing it and a packet of hot chocolate mix to Annie.

“Where did everybody go?” Annie asked.

Connie shrugged. “That Fletcher guy said he had to go, and the rest went down to see if the cafeteria was still open.”

“Which one was Fletcher?” Annie asked. She’d been introduced to everyone hurriedly, but her mind had been on other things.

“He’s the suit with the creepy smile,” Connie said. “I don’t like him,” she added unnecessarily.

Annie nodded. “I’m sorry, I know we were introduced,” she said to Connie, “I don’t know your connection to the other people here. Did you work with them before?”

Connie shook her head. “No, the one they call Langly — he was my boss until he remembered who he really is. Then the bastards burned down his business.”

“These people? The ones here now?” Annie asked, shocked.

“No, except I think that Fletcher guy might have. He kidnapped Roger and brought him here.”

“I hear he’s the one responsible for the guys regaining their memories?”

“Yeah, and losing them in the first place,” Connie confirmed. “Langly used to be Roger Mintage. Now he doesn’t remember any of it. He doesn’t remember me, and I saw him every day for nearly two years.”

“He doesn’t remember anything?”

“That’s what he says. The doctor lady, Scully, says that maybe someday he will. No one knows for sure.”

Annie stirred her chocolate for a few minutes. “Is that why you’re here? Do you hope he’ll remember?”

Connie shrugged. “They told me I could stay as long as I like. Langly’s teaching me stuff — he’s a real computer genius. So I guess I have a job.”

Annie noticed that Connie hadn’t answered. She understood that. She had her own unspoken hopes, her own unanswered questions. Right now, nothing seemed real. Until she knew for sure what was happening to her Brian, she couldn’t think clearly.

x-x-x

Finally too exhausted to do anything else, Annie went back to Brian’s room.

Dr. Scully stood at Brian’s bedside. The monitors seemed to be beeping more more quickly than they had before. Brian was turning his head from side to side and his eyelids were fluttering.

“He’s doing fine,” Scully whispered. She gestured to Annie to come stand by the bed. She pointed to the monitors, explaining the activity. “He’s dreaming right now.”

Annie hesitantly reached her hand out to smooth the hair on his forehead, looking at Scully.

“It’s okay,” Scully said. “You can touch him.”

Instead of touching his head, Annie put her hand over his. “What’s he dreaming?” She didn’t want to think of him having nightmares without being there to comfort him.

“I don’t know,” Scully said. “I don’t think it’s nightmares. He’d be under much greater stress if it was.”

“Br- Brian used to have nightmares, sometimes,” Annie said. She didn’t want to look away from him. His face was so familiar, so dear to her. Could it be possible that he wouldn’t know her when he woke up?

“I know this is hard for you,” Dr. Scully said gently. “We won’t let anything happen to him. Try to get some rest.”

It was too late, Annie thought. Something was already happening to him.

Scully touched her shoulder. “I think you should try to sleep,” she said. “I’ll wake you if I see any change.”

Annie nodded and went to the empty bed. She lay down and turned her back to the low light by Brian’s bed. She didn’t think she’d sleep. In a few seconds, she did.

x-x-x

“Annie.” Someone was shaking her awake. “Annie, he’s waking up.”

She opened her eyes to see Mulder. Scully was again — still? — at Brian’s bedside. Out in the hall, others were quietly milling around. Although no natural light could be seen in this room, she sensed that it was morning.

“Brian?” Scully was saying. “How are you?”

Over Mulder’s shoulder, Annie could see Brian’s eyelids fluttering. For a few tense seconds, no one spoke. Brian’s eyes opened. He reached his hand up to his chin and frowned slightly, then tried to sit up.

“Agent Scully, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What did you call me?” he said. “Where am I?” Then he went pale, evidently remembering. “I thought we died,” he whispered. “It felt like dying.”

“That’s because you almost did,” Fletcher said from the doorway. “But I saved your asses.” He, Langly, and Frohike were all standing just outside the infirmary.

“You’re the one who got us there in the first place, you scuzzball,” Frohike said.

“All of you, out of here. Now.” Scully said firmly.

“Aye aye, Nurse Ratched,” Fletcher said.

“Hey, show some respect,” Frohike said.

Mulder went to the door. “You heard Dr. Scully. Visiting hours are noon to eight. Only close family members allowed.”

Annie stood, frozen. She was afraid to move, either toward the door, or closer to the bed.

“It’s okay, John,” Scully was saying to Brian. “There was an accident. You survived it. So did Frohike and Langly. They’re both fine.”

Byers drew a breath of relief and looked around. “Are they here?”

“They’re outside,” Mulder said, “I think you should rest a while before seeing them.”

Byers nodded. He felt his chin again. “Did you have to shave off my beard?” he asked. “I’ve heard they can interfere with anesthesia masks.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Scully told him. “You should probably rest now.”

Annie thought she might be able to sneak out after he’d closed his eyes, but the slight movement she made caught his attention. He tried to sit up, and smiled politely at her.

“I didn’t see you standing there,” he said. “Forgive me for not getting up. I’m John Byers. Are you working with Agent Scully?”

“We’ll explain it all later,” Scully said. “Get some rest.”

Byers obediently closed his eyes again.

Mulder led Annie out of the room. As soon as they got to the lounge, however, the rest of the group surrounded them.

“How is he?” Langly wanted to know.

“Does he know who he is?” asked Frohike.

“He’s fine,” Mulder said. “Scully’s checking him out right now. You know the drill. He needs to rest for a while. Hold your horses.”

He took Annie back out to the hallway, away from the others. He turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Maybe you’d like to go back to the house for a while? There’s not much privacy here.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, which elicited a smile from Mulder.

“I don’t believe that from you, any more than when I hear it from Scully, but never mind. If the guys — or anyone — bug you too much, let me know.”

Scully came out of Brian’s room. “He’s resting. Annie, I’m so sorry. It might change — he might remember you later.”

Annie shook her head. “I’m going to try and be realistic about this. He may never –” her voice broke a little — “never remember our life together. I have to get used to that.”

“When he wakes up again, we’ll have to tell him what we know about his life before,” Scully said. “Do you want to be there?”

“Don’t you think he’d feel obligated in some way? I don’t want that. I loved him as Brian, and from what his friends have told me, I’d like him as John Byers, too. But if Brian and John are similar, I also know that he’d feel an obligation to me if you tell him we were married. Better to leave it alone. We knew each other, that’s all.”

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. “It’s up to you,” Scully said finally. “But I think you’re wrong.”

x-x-x

Several hours later, Byers asked for Annie. She went to the doorway of his room, and was surprised to see him dressed. He’d been sitting in an armchair, but he stood up when she entered. He looked like Brian, and yet not like Brian. There was no recognition of her in his eyes.

“How are you?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure what to call him.

“Doctor Scully says I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve had bloodwork, a CAT scan, and my heart and EEG readings are all within normal ranges.” He smiled ruefully. “But other than that, I don’t know how I am.”

Annie nodded. She didn’t know how she was, either.

“I know you’re Annie,” he said. “And I know you knew me as Brian Jordan. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” Annie said. She’d twisted her wedding ring off a while ago; now she fingered it in her pocket.

“I hope you’ll call me John,” he said. He waited until she sat in the other chair and then sat down. “I also hope you’ll tell me about that life,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

“Do you remember anything?” Annie asked. A small seed of hope sprouted.

“Not much, just a general feeling. I think I was happy. They said I was living in a small town in Northern California. I was a newspaper editor.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Not that far off from what I was doing before.”

“You were a crusading editor. You were always writing editorials about things that you cared about, and you made others care. Sometimes you made people mad, too.”

“What kinds of things did I write about?”

“Preserving small-town life, while not rejecting everything modern. Learning to distinguish between important things and trivial things.” Annie smiled. “You did this piece on the road repairs that the town needed. I thought that the Rabble would come after you with pitchforks.”

“You call the townspeople rabble?” he asked, looking confused.

“No,” Annie said. “That’s the bunch at Donna’s cafe. They call themselves the Rabble.”

“Oh,” he said. It was obvious to Annie that none of these things rang a bell. “Before — before I was Brian Jordan, I wrote about the things I thought mattered, too.”

“What kind of things?” Annie asked.

He thought a moment. “About doing what’s right, not what’s popular. About exposing things that were wrong.” He smiled a little, remembering. “I made people mad then, too.”

“Did you like what you were doing?”

“I did. I felt what I was doing was important, that what I said needed to be said. If I could make only one person think a little differently about our world and what was going on in it, that was something.”

“I’ve heard that you did more than that. I read that you saved a lot of people by preventing a terrorist attack. You kept a dangerous toxin from being released.”

“They told me the same thing. I remember it. That’s something I wish I could forget.”

“But you remember that you’re John Byers, and you don’t remember anything about Brian Jordan.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” he admitted. “It’s funny, I used to dream of living in a small town. Of living in a house with a white picket fence around it.”

“That was your house.” She couldn’t help the tears starting in her eyes.

Byers looked at her. “Just my house?” he asked gently.

Unable to speak, Annie shook her head.

“In my dream, I wasn’t the only one living there.”

“They told me about Susanne,” Annie blurted out.

He looked grave. “Frohike and Langly like to gossip. Sometimes they have ideas about things that aren’t quite correct.”

“I’m not Susanne. I couldn’t be.”

“But we were married, weren’t we?”

She nodded. “They weren’t supposed to tell you. I don’t want you to feel…like I’m a left over obligation.”

“I guessed.” He held up his hand and she could see the pale line where his ring used to be. “You may know me as Brian, but I think that one thing hasn’t changed: I believe in the truth, and in telling the truth.”

“Then you tell me about Susanne,” she insisted. Knowing that her Brian had lived another life was bad enough. To also find that he had loved someone else was like discovering an old flame had moved back into town. This was his reality now, and she was not a part of it.

“Susanne is a real person. The idea of a life with her was a fantasy,” Byers said. “I had an idealized view of the world, one I wished was true. The Susanne I wished for was part of that world.” He shook his head. “The reality was different. She lived in a dangerous world. When our paths crossed the first time, I had no idea how dangerous. She was the reason I met my friends, and why I decided it was important to expose the truth, no matter what.”

“It’s hard to be idealistic when people can take your life away,” Annie said bitterly.

“That’s true. But here’s something that no one else told you. Maybe they don’t remember. We chose to do what we did. No one coerced us into preventing the release of the toxin. We made a decision to do our best. We knew what the consequences were. We traded our three lives for the lives of the many. Then Morris Fletcher somehow managed to save us, and in return, he wanted us to participate in this program.”

“You mean he blackmailed you into it.”

“No. He saved us first, and then asked for our assistance. It turned out to be a deal with the Devil, but he did save us. Every deal comes at a cost.”

“I didn’t ask for this deal!” Annie cried. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

This wasn’t going well at all, she thought. She was saying exactly the words she’d told herself she wouldn’t say. Even if he hadn’t been coerced into becoming Brian Jordan in the first place, she was using guilt to try to force him to become Brian again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. I know this is hard for you. You didn’t ask for this, either.”

Byers shook his head. “Neither of us did.” I wish I could remember you. I wish things had turned out differently.”

“What do we do now?” she asked through her tears.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said.

~*~

Chapter Sixteen

Scully kept Byers in the hospital that night. She suggested that Annie go back to the house, but Annie insisted on staying at the hospital for as long as Byers was there.

The others had all gone back to the warehouse once they’d had a chance to see Byers for themselves. Neither Langly nor Frohike seemed anxious to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. They used the excuse that they wanted to get started on better security for the warehouse.

“I’m keeping Byers here an extra day,” Scully told Mulder.

“Why? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, I think he’s recovering the same as Langly and Frohike. I’m doing some extra bloodwork, and I was able to reserve a small amount of the antidote that I’m going to have analyzed.”

“Are you going to analyze it here?”

“I won’t do the analysis personally, I have someone else in mind.”

“Who?”

Scully just smiled. “Let’s talk about it a little later.”

“The enigmatic Dr. Scully,” Mulder said, teasing.

“You’re a smart man, Mulder. If you think about it a little, I bet you can figure it out.”

x-x-x

At the end of the second day in the hospital, Scully told Byers that she was releasing him. “You’re welcome to come back to the house.”

Byers shook his head. “I think I’d rather go back to the warehouse. I don’t want to make Annie feel worse.”

“I understand.” Scully put her hand on Byers’ arm. “Give it some time. This is difficult for both of you.”

“Probably more for her than for me, because I don’t remember,” Byers said. “But I can see how hurt she is.”

Annie elected to go back to the house with Mulder and Scully. Fletcher had taken himself off sometime earlier, though Mulder had extracted a promise from him to meet at the warehouse the next day.

Skinner had also promised to come, and would bring Doggett and Reyes to report more fully on what they’d found in Chicago. It would be their first full strategy meeting.

“What happens to me now?” Annie asked Mulder and Scully on the way back to their house. She’d spent some more time with John, at his request, but their conversations had been awkward and stilted. It seemed like every topic was a potential land mine.

“I think it’s too soon for you to make a decision about what you want to do,” Scully said. “Give it a little time.”

“I can’t go back home, can I?” Annie asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Mulder said. “You really are in witness protection now. You wouldn’t be safe.”

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Scully added. “I hear you have a background in microbiology. I work at the University; I’m sure we could figure out a position for you there.”

“Do I have to change my name, become someone else like Brian — John did?” Annie asked.

“We’re still trying to assess the threat,” Mulder said. “At a minimum, we don’t think you’d be safe going back home. We don’t know what the people running the program that Byers and the others were in might do. At the very least, they might use you to try and get to Byers.”

“I don’t see why,” Annie said. “He has no obligation to me. He doesn’t remember me.” She was proud of herself for not bursting into tears when she said it.

“Of course he has an obligation to you,” Scully contradicted. “Even if not you personally, he would never want anyone to come to harm because of him.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “I used to tease Brian about being a secret superhero. Now it seems like it’s true.”

“Only the saving the world part,” Mulder said. He pulled the SUV into the garage.

Scully gave him a look. “Mulder –”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Mulder said to Annie. “There are some things you don’t know yet. It’s too late tonight to get into them.”

As they entered the house, Scully said. “It’s been a long couple of days. I think we all need a good night’s sleep.”

“I guess I’ll say goodnight then,” Annie said awkwardly. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Scully watched Annie slowly climb the stairs. “I think I should talk to Annie,” she said to Mulder.

“Do you want me to come talk to her too?” Mulder asked.

Scully reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve had a long couple of days, too; go on up, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mulder went on ahead as Scully knocked softly on Annie’s door. “Annie, it’s Dana. Can I talk to you for a minute?” There was no answer.

Annie didn’t look up when Scully opened the door. She sat at the desk with the borrowed laptop, looking at the entry she’d shown Brian, when he was still Brian and not John Byers. The face was so familiar: the kind, intelligent eyes and serious expression. He looked cute with a beard. She remembered teasing Brian about growing one, and he never would.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Scully asked. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t think I can think of anything more to say,” Annie told her. “This is so far outside anything I’ve ever experienced. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I understand. It’s far outside my experience too. I’ve always relied on science,” Scully said. “I’ve seen and heard of so many things I couldn’t explain by any science I knew. But that’s the way I’ve always approached them. With your background, I think that will help you, too. Maybe not tonight. When you’re ready. It’s a good way to begin to deal with the unexplainable. You start looking for the pieces that make sense, and go from there.”

“None of it makes sense right now. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“Just — don’t give up hope. We’re going to do our best to figure out what was used to restore their memories. The memories weren’t erased, only hidden somehow. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out a way to restore their other memories, too.”

“How can you be sure?” Annie asked.

“About restoring their memories, I’m not sure. But I don’t think you can ever give up hope. Without it, nothing is possible. But with it, sometimes seemingly impossible odds can be overcome.” Scully fingered the cross at her throat. “Don’t give up,” she repeated.

x-x-x

Mulder turned and smiled as Scully walked into their room. “Alone at last,” he said softly.

Scully walked into his arms and hugged him tightly. “We got them back, Scully,” Mulder murmured into her hair. “We got them back.” They held each other close for a long while, neither speaking.

Finally Scully looked up at Mulder. “We did. They’re alive, against all the odds, and they seem to be okay. Except that they’ve lost six years.”

“It has to be asked. Do you think we did the right thing, Scully? Was it worth the price?”

“I don’t know. You said yourself once that sometimes the costs are too high. I think it depends on who you ask. To Annie, or to Connie, I’m sure it’s not. If Langly, Frohike, and Byers knew what they’d left behind, they might not think so either. Would we have done the same thing, knowing what we know now?”

“I don’t know either. We tried to give Byers a choice, but that choice was taken from him. Maybe we should have left well enough alone.”

“But once we knew, could we have left them alone? I don’t believe it was an option. I suppose you could say that the ends justify the means, or if we hadn’t intervened, they might have been used for more nefarious purposes. There’s no way to know for sure. Sometimes I think we only know afterward.”

“I guess we could have the fate versus free will argument again. Or do you mean that history will judge us?”

“Maybe. I just know that not doing anything was not an option. We can’t afford to sit back and wait for things to unfold.”

“It seems like you’re arguing from my side,” Mulder said with a small smile.

“I’ve always been on your side. Even when it didn’t appear that I was. Someone has to keep you honest.”

“I know. Even if it took me a long time to win you over, it was worth the fight.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat,” he murmured.

“So would I,” Scully said, kissing him back. “And we may have to, before this is over.”

Down the hall in the guest bedroom, Annie fell into bed, not bothering to do more than take off her shoes. She missed Brian more than she could express. Is this what being widowed felt like? No wonder her father hadn’t wanted to go on without her mother.

Dana Scully had told her not to give up. What did she know about loss? Her man hadn’t been stolen from her. She sat there so calmly, talking about science and hope and not giving up. She couldn’t think straight. She still didn’t know what was going on. She had to rely on her hosts right now; she had no choice. She’d been left with nothing: no husband, no home. She wouldn’t be Annie any more either, she supposed. But she’d still have Annie’s memories. It was completely unfair.

Dana Scully had said something about working in her lab. If she couldn’t go home again, she would need a job, and a place to stay. She didn’t want to just hang around hoping that Brian — she had to remember to call him John — would remember her.

Maybe this was the dream, and she’d wake up back in Perdita, with Brian beside her…

The pillow still smelled faintly of Brian. She hugged it to herself, and tried to sleep.

x-x-x

Back at the warehouse, Byers tried to sleep too. He could almost believe that the intervening six years had never happened. There were enough changes in themselves and their surroundings that none of them could quite manage that, though Frohike and Langly were giving it their best effort. He should, too. He was still having trouble processing everything that had happened. They were too, even though Langly was acting a little superior, having been the first one whose memory was recovered.

Six years, completely obliterated. He was married, or had been married, anyway. He had no memory of it, except as a memory of a daydream: the kind of daydream he used to have about Susanne.

Would Annie be staying around? Did he even want her to? They’d had a couple of awkward conversations. He’d gotten up on his high horse about something. He hardly knew what he was saying. He just kept looking at her, trying to remember her. She seemed to know him. Except he wasn’t who she thought he was. He wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with and married. He’d made her cry, and he felt bad about that.

After several minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up and wandered out to the lounge. The television was on, but the two occupants were fast asleep. Connie was on the sofa and Gibson slept in a recliner, his glasses still perched on his nose. Byers found a throw and put it over Connie, and carefully took Gibson’s glasses off and placed them on the table next to him.

He could see a light coming from the kitchen and heard low voices. Langly sat at the kitchen table. Frohike was at the stove.

“Hey Byers,” he greeted him. “Want some huevos rancheros? There’s plenty. And there are brews in the fridge.”

Byers got a beer and a glass from the cupboard and poured the beer into it carefully, keeping the foam at a minimum. Langly watched him and shook his head.

Langly still looked strange. His hair was growing back, although it stuck up like a bristle brush at the moment. His glasses were different, too. But he had on a Ramones tee shirt that someone had found for him, and he was banging away at a laptop, muttering to himself, pushing his glasses up when they slid down his nose.

“What are you working on?” Byers asked him.

“I’m still trying to figure out who that son of a bitch works for,” Langly said. “I think he’s due some serious payback, and I want to know if there are others like us out there.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got a point, Langly,” Frohike said. “But first things first. It’s time to circle the wagons. There’s been some weird shit going down, and we have to get to the bottom of it. Mulder’s counting on us. As is the beautiful Dr. Scully.”

“Look who’s talking: the Gnome that Time Forgot,” Langly said. “Okay, Rip van Langly,” Frohike says. “Let’s see some of that kung fu you’re always saying you have. Time’s a-wasting.”

“Gentlemen,” Byers interrupted. “We have no time to lose. Let’s get to the business at hand.”

-end-

Frohike: Buddy, fight the good fight. Langly: Both of you. Byers: Never give up.

-From “Jump the Shark”, the Gunmen’s ‘last words’.

x-x-x

Author’s Notes: I’ve only been able to watch “JtS” once, and if I’d been a spoiler hound at the time, I might not have watched it even then. I think I knew from the moment the credits rolled at the end that the Gunmen weren’t really dead, but where did they go? What have they been doing? The idea of giving them secret identities occurred early on. I just needed to figure out who would have helped them and why. Enter Morris Fletcher, who to paraphrase Dr. Nacimiento, “practically writes himself.” He is a lot of fun to write, the big lug.

It was my good fortune that Wendy was willing to beta the story. She has been extremely helpful and patient. Thanks also to Donna H. who offered some suggestions and encouragement along the way, and to the Posse for their cheering me on.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

ML, October 19, 2010