Chapter 5

Leaving Mulder standing in the middle of the room, I headed over to the girls washroom and stood looking in the mirror. Like I had over three months ago, I looked at the person I was; she seemed familiar and yet, I didn’t know who she was. So many things were coming at me and were almost haunting me. This life wasn’t letting me start with a clean slate. It seemed to be becoming dangerous not to know who I was.

Breaking my gaze away from the mirror, I started running water in the sink and splashed some on my face. The shock of the cold helped me calm down more but my mind was still throwing things at me and my emotions were boiling just under the surface. I was going through the entire spectrum, all mixed up together, making it impossible to isolate one feeling and identify it, naming its cause.

I looked up as the door opened and the woman, Scully, came in. She looked mad. I guess it’s not every day someone takes down her partner. She came up to me and gave me the once over. It was an interesting feeling because she was a good head shorter than I was.

"Who the hell do you think you are? I could have you arrested right now for assault and for interfering with a federal investigation." She wasn’t quite yelling but she was pretty close.

"I’m not interfering, I’ve been cooperating! I’ve told you all I can, but if someone starts yelling in my face and grabbing me by the neck, I defend myself."

"If that’s cooperating, I’d hate to see you being difficult." Her tone was lighter but there was still a hard glint in her eyes. "Perhaps it would be easier if you started at the beginning and explained everything, we have your statement, but you were ‘cooperating’ with the detective at the station."

"What the hey, everyone else knows, why not the rest of the world." I turned to look at the face in the mirror then let my reflection look at the agent. "I can’t remember anything past a few months ago."

She searched my face, looking for signs of deception, staring into my eyes before her face softened a degree and she leaned against the counter.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Again she looked me over, but this time less critical, more questioning. I don’t think she missed anything about me from the hastily brushed hair swinging down my back in a braid to the red rimmed eyes to the hiking boots that I hadn’t gotten around to replacing with something a little lighter.

"Not much to say. I woke up outside a building three months ago. Didn’t know who I was."

"Why didn’t you go to a doctor, or the police?" Her tone was curious, but also cautious.

"I didn’t want to know who I was. I was running from something and I don’t know what." I moved over to the counter and pulled myself up onto it. Leaning my head back against the glass, I fiddled with the laces of the boot I’d pulled up beside me. "Things keep happening and I don’t understand them. Everything seems to be somehow connected with who I was." I let my foot drop down to swing around with the other. "I seem to be explaining this a lot lately. This is the third time in the past two days."

"Why didn’t you tell anyone till now, why are you afraid of your past?" She jumped up to the counter beside me, her legs swinging over the edges and we unconsciously fell into a rhythm together.

"I wanted a clean break. I wanted to start out new. I knew I was running from something and it scared me. When I woke up, the first thing I did was run. Then I hid out for a while. I was still edgy, but I thought I was safe. I met Joe and he helped me out. Gave me a bit of a job and let me stay here at night instead of heading back to where I was crashing. Now, things are starting to come back and when they do, things get more confusing then when I first woke up." Scully seemed easier to talk to than her partner. For me at least.

"What about Duncan MacLeod?" she prompted.

"He’s a friend of Joe’s who’s helping me with my knee injury. I go to the Dojo to do a few exercises; stretch it out, build up some strength, that sort of thing. We spar a bit too. I wasn’t lying early. Duncan’s not a murderer. We were sparing when the lights exploded and the window shattered." My foot was back on the counter and I was twisting the laces together. "I got annoyed at your partner’s attitude when he came in. So I let my tongue get away from me. I've had problems with that before. Just ask Joe about it."

"Well, I’ve had to deal with that before. I’m just used to hearing it from Mulder." She slid down, her high heals clicking against the hard tile. "Do you think they’ve got him calmed down now?"

"Probably. They’re much less offensive than I am." Getting down I rejoined the party and hoped I wasn’t doing the wrong thing by letting those two know about me.

After stepping out of the bathrooms, Scully went to go find her partner and I went back to the now empty table. Jarod was nowhere to be found, the two agents left without further adieu and Joe was talking on the phone at the bar. Picking up my half-finished drink, I remember Mulder taking a swig of it and put it back down untouched.

I was tired. Every part of me felt drained and I didn’t want to move. The music from the band that I had thoroughly enjoyed earlier, now grated against my nerves. I could feel the notes pound against me like a downpour against a rock, stinging and ever so slowly wearing me down. Joe finally finished on the phone and came on over. He took one look at me and sat down, leaning over to talk.

"You should go to bed. There’s not all that much to do tonight and you look like hell."

"You look great too, Joe." I was really starting to rub off on him. Or him on me. Or something like that. My brain was starting to fog up.

"Well, you’re the one who always speaks her mind. Now go get some sleep." Getting up, I headed for the front door only to be called back and shown to the room in the back that Joe sometimes let me sleep in.

"This is your room now. So use it." He left no room for argument and turned back to the bar leaving me in the doorway by myself. Closing the door, I sat on the edge of the bed.

I’d been sleeping here on and off for over a month and it looked pretty much the same as when Joe first showed it to me. I had some clutter on the table and my bag was sitting in the corner, forgotten since yesterday’s flight from Jarod, but that was it. Making a decision I got up and opened the door, hoping that Jarod hadn’t already left and that I just hadn’t seen him. Wandering back into the bar, I went up to Russ and asked if anyone had seen Jarod.

"Yah, he left just after you disappeared." He finished the drink he was pouring and placed it on the bar. I could feel my face fall in disappointment. "He left something for you though."

"What?" I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure. Russ wiped his hands off and went around the corner, pulling my giant bear out of the storage room.

"He said to apologize for leaving without saying anything, but he had to check some things out. I think that’s what he said, at least." Taking the bear, I simply thanked him and carried it into my room. Once there, I set him on the head end of my bed, tucked in as much as was possible into the corner. He wasn’t all that tucked though.

Slipping back out to the bathroom, I got ready for bed and when I got back, I slipped under the covers, my head cranked at a bit of an angle, but I didn’t care. Burying my face in the soft fur, I fell asleep, lulled by the rhythmic throb of the bass coming through the walls.

***

Scully waited until they where back at the hotel before going after Mulder.

"What on earth where you thinking? She’s a witness, not a suspect." They were in Mulder’s room, having gone there to go over the files once more before morning.

"She lied to us Scully." His voice took on that shrill quality it got whenever he was really stressed about something. He shouldn’t be that stressed over a witness lying.

"Mulder, she has amnesia. While you where tending your wounds, I talked to her friend, Jarod and with her. She had a severe concussion three months ago and before that is a total blank." Scully tried not to take her own frustration out on Mulder. "She’s probably suppressing her memories because she’s scared of something."

"Is that a medical opinion." He slurred that out.

"Until I get her in hospital for a full examination, no." She had to pause to calm herself before she continued. "But I think she’s telling the truth. I want to confirm with her boss, but it looks likely. It’s a bit unusual, but not unheard of. That explains her name and the address is probably an abandoned building she lives in."

"There’s something going on here that we’re missing, aside from MacLeod’s mysterious alibi. This whole situation seems more like a cult or something similar as opposed to a single maniac." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it lightly tussled.

"I should think so, the timing on all these makes it physically impossible for it to be one person." Scully winced when she snapped at Mulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just sat on his bed, quiet for a few minutes as he thought.

"Ritualized dueling," he finally said.

"What, a chapter of SCA got out of hand and started killing each other?" She sat on the other bed and pulled her shoes off.

"No, a number of the duels predate that group. This has been going on for well over a hundred years; the SCA is too recent. It’s actually fairly simple. They meet, fight and the winner beheads the loser." He got up and paced a few steps, as though trying to get his mind organized.

"What about the electrical disturbances?" Mulder was being rather un-Mulder-like. She had already figured it was a duel of sorts. The autopsy this afternoon showed a few defensive wounds and the sword found with the body was not the murder weapon. Now Mulder was staring off blankly out the window. "Mulder?" He shook his head and turned away from the window.

"I want to do a full background check on Duncan, Richie, Jarod and Jane. Also the owner of the bar, Joe; he seems to be a close friend of MacLeod’s." He looked at her but still seemed distracted.

"Jane’s going to be hard. As for the rest, we can get them started at the station tomorrow morning." She leaned back and plopped onto the bed. That felt altogether too good. It was time to get some sleep before she nodded off right there.

"We should be able to get a set of prints for her. We could run them through the system and see what shows up. Also check missing persons. Something might come up, but I doubt it."

"Mulder, what are you getting at." She rolled and looked at where he was now pacing, idly.

"All the victims, just about every single one of them, had either a sketchy past, or none at all. Twenty years ago, it was possible that someone wouldn’t have much showing up on a background check beyond a birth certificate and some financial records, but not now. Yet all of the victims did." Mulder pulled out background checks done on the last few victims and threw them on the bed beside her. Leafing through them, she saw one was a total blank, but the others went back a few years before turning up empty or fake.

"Do you think they’re all involved?" Scully pointed at the witnesses’ statements.

"Possibly. Probably." He took up his pacing again.

Scully looked over at her partner. He looked terrible. Something was eating at him and it wasn’t this case. This was turning out as one of the more normal ones they’ve had in a while. No aliens, monsters, or mutated humans. They probably wouldn’t end up in decontamination unless Mulder did something stupid and if they could find an actual link between all the victims other than manner of death, they could turn this over to Violent Crimes and be done with it. No, something else was bothering him.

"Mulder, what’s eating you?"

He looked over at her, his face still pained. After a few seconds, he headed over to his travel bag and pulled out a large, yellow envelope. Heading over he wordlessly dumped the contents out. A few pictures, a lock of dark, curly hair, a small silver ring and a short piece of red ribbon tumbled out. Sitting up and looking at Mulder for the okay, she picked up one of the pictures.

It was a young girl, around eleven, in a stark room and looking past the camera. Her hair was cut short and she was concentrating on something, which was out of the picture. It was in black and white, though exceptionally clear, and had the feel of a surveillance photo. A jolt of recognition went through her as she compared the picture in her hand with the picture of his sister, Samantha that always sat on his desk. The same dark eyes and almost elfin features, though in the picture she remembered a smile lightening up the girl’s face. The picture in her hand was of a somber child who didn’t laugh; the girl was a few years older than Sam was when she was taken.

"Are you sure it’s her?" She looked up and examined the face of her partner. The last few weeks she thought it was the increased pressure from Skinner that had put the shadows under his eyes.

"No. There are a few more pictures, when she’s a little older. Nothing past adolescence though." Mulder’s voice was completely devoid of emotion.

"The rest of this?" Scully looked through the pile and fingered the piece of ribbon.

"The hair ribbon and the ring she was wearing the night she disappeared." He turned around and walked over to a chair, sitting down. "The lock of hair could be hers.

"It could be real, it could be fake. There are clones, or something running around that look like she did when she was a kid. The pictures could be the same. Every thing else could be faked. I want to believe but I can’t." the defeat in his voice rang hollowly through the room.

"The phone call last night? Was that related?" It seemed to figure in, but Scully wasn’t sure how.

"Yes. A man’s voice, with an accent, telling me she’s here." Mulder barely even gestured with his hand as he spoke.

"Here where?" Scully’s mind was going in circles over the implications. If this was real…

"In Seattle." He just sat there, still unmoving. Coming to a decision, Scully stood up and started to put her shoes back on.

"Where do you want to start looking?" She waited for some kind of reaction out of her partner.

"I don’t have anywhere to start. That bothers me more than anything else. He’s doing it just to drive me insane." Even with this statement, there wasn’t much feeling in his voice. The past year was hard on him. His faith had been shattered and now, he didn’t know what to believe. His Crusade had been revealed to him as the machinations of shadow forces in the government; he’d been shown that what he believed in, he had been manipulated into believing.

"They could probably age one of these pictures on the computer at the police station. That would give us an idea of what she’d look like. It’s not much of a start, but it’ll have to do for now." Picking up her purse, she paused at the door, looking over at the one man she trusted with her life and more. "Mulder, go to bed. We’ll find her. It’s only a matter of time." Turning back around she almost had the door shut when Mulder called out to her.

"Scully?"

"Yes?" She turned around and looked to where he still sat.

"Thanks." He looked up at her, his eyes suspiciously moist.

"You’re welcome. Now go to sleep." She started closing the door, barely catching his comment.

"Yes mother."

Smiling quietly to herself, she went to her room next door and followed her own advice.

***

Jarod picked up the Tasmanian Devil Pez dispenser, took out a pink piece of candy and popped it in his mouth. Putting the three stuffed bulldogs down on the table around him, he sat at his laptop to replay a piece of his life.

He was with Sydney in the hallway, heading to a sim lab. While there, he watched a string of girls, all about five years younger than he was, all with their hair cut in a short bob, all looking at their feet, follow Mr. Raines down the hall way. Normally, he never saw anyone other than Sydney, Mr. Raines and occasionally Miss Parker, who used to come and see him. But she changed after her mother died and he hadn’t seen her in over a year.

"Who are they?" His voice had settled the year before in a lower register. Along with his voice changing he had changed. He was questioning more what went on around him and why he was there. He knew most people weren’t raised in cold rooms with only a teacher. But for him, it was all he remembered.

"No one for you to worry about." Sydney’s voice was hard and the look on his face was one of pure disgust. Turning away from the line he pulled Jarod into the lab, but not before one of the girls looked up at him, her face streaked with tears.

Freezing the frame on the face of the girl he printed it up, the date on the corner was July 20 1978. Taking out a small disc, he replaced it with another. This one was much newer, from ’86 and in color, the picture just as sharp.

It was of a gymnasium, the set up expensive and professional. Jarod was there, having discovered it the year before. Exercise had become a bit of an obsession. Sydney encouraged him, but others frowned when he came here. For him, it was a chance to take his mind off of the work he did, a chance to do something purely physical with no thought required. He liked the control he had over his body. So little else was allowed him.

Miss Parker was back, but she never came to see him. He’d seen her in the hall, but when he went to talk to her, she basically ignored him and ran to catch up with her father. Picking up a dumb bell he started his reps, isolating his biceps and watching carefully not to over stress the muscle. He just about dropped the weight when the door opened up. People weren’t supposed to come in here right now. It was his turn and they didn’t allow anyone in here when he was there.

A young woman walked in, she was about 17 and dressed in black with her frizzy, dark hair barely tied back in a ponytail. She paused at the door when she saw him, almost uncertain. He recalled the girls that he had occasionally seen in the hallways, dressed in black, following Mr. Raines or another man he didn’t know. It took him a moment to recall she was the one who always looked around, instead of down at her feet.

A cold mask dropped over her features, as she strode up to him.

"You shouldn’t be here. This is our gym." Her voice was harsh and cold, her eyes matching her voice. Looking him over as he finished his set, she continued. "You’re one of those Pretenders."

"Why do you call me that?" No one had ever called him that, but he understood why the name could be applied to him.

"It’s what you do isn’t it? Pretend to be other people?" She was right in front of him now, a challenge in her eyes.

"What do you do?"

"I kill people." There was no emotion in her voice and Jarod felt a shiver climb up his spine. She was so cold. While he had been isolated, she had been changed. People weren’t that cold unless something made them that way. Looking into her eyes, the challenge was gone now, replaced again with the uncertainty. His curiosity got the better of him

"Why?"

"Because it’s what I do." She turned her back to him so fast her short ponytail whipped around and slapped at her neck. Heading to the mat, she started to stretch out, still in the black pants and shirt. The muscles played under the material, displaying a flexibility and strength one could easily underestimate. Standing up, she turned to face him, a wicked grin on her face.

"Do you want to play?" The challenge was back on her face, her eyes lit up with anticipation.

"They let you play?" Jarod was a little surprised. He was never allowed to do anything fun. The only fun he got was out of the occasional simulation.

"It’s how we learn. Do you want to play?" She seemed to be getting impatient waiting for an answer.

"What are the rules?" Standing up, Jarod stepped towards her. She grinned.

"There are none." With that she whipped around, grabbing his hand so fast he never saw the move. Next thing he knew he was flying through the air and landing with a hard smack on the mat. Then she was on top of him, pinning him down, digging an elbow in his neck.

"You don’t play much do you?" She eased up the pressure, letting him answer.

"No." It came out as a croak.

"Too bad, I wanted someone to play with." Behind them a door opened, a smallish man entering with the presence of a whirlwind.

"ANN!" The girl jumped up, instantly in front of the man with her head bowed down, looking at the floor.

"Yes Father?" The man looked at her, exasperation on his face.

"I told you not to call me that." The voice had the cultured tone of an educated Englishman. She was still looking at the floor, but Jarod could see her shoulders tense up. "You’re supposed to be in bed."

"I wanted to play," she whispered.

The man looked at her and his face softened just the tiniest bit. Circling around her, he moved with an easy, almost careless grace. "The dream again?"

"Yes."

Recalling the presence of Jarod in the room or more likely he simply hadn’t cared before, the man looked at him. The full force of the stare had the same cold chill that Ann’s had, only more of it.

"You can still use the gym, but not tonight. Leave." Having learned the merits of obedience many years earlier, Jarod picked up his towel, which lay neglected on the floor, and headed back to his own room. The picture paused, than moved again, this time backwards, replaying in reverse the expert flip Ann had executed. Stopping on a frame where Ann was clearly seen, he printed it up.

Taking the two pictures he held them up beside the picture taken this afternoon, with Jane and him in period dress, serious faces looking straight into the antique camera. There was now doubt. It was the same person.

***

Joe looked over at MacLeod. By now it was close to morning; the band cleared out at 3 and the rest of the crowd filtered out soon afterwards. Now he just had to clean up the mess left and then he could get some sleep. Or so he thought until Mac walked in.

"What did you find?" There was a shadow hidden in the depths of Duncan’s eyes.

"Mac, I’m not allowed to tell you." The standard argument was already starting up. How many times have they had some form of this conversation?

"Will you cut the Watcher line. You’ve already looked into this and you can’t figure it out. If you tell me maybe I can fill in the gaps."

Joe’s feet ached this evening, an interesting fact since he didn’t have any, and he figured now was not the time to argue over the duties of a Watcher. "I had to call in quite a few favors, but the man was going by Alan Marcus. He was only about 100." He reached over and swiped a cloth over the already fairly clean bar.

"Why come after me? I didn’t even know him and this was not part of the game. Not for him. This was personal." Duncan went over to one of the tables and started gathering up the glasses there, needing to do something in this state of agitation.

"We haven’t got much on him around his first death. He died sometime in WW1 and our records aren’t the most complete for that period. Did he say anything when he challenged you?" Joe had given up on the bar top and was cashing out.

"No. He didn’t say anything at all. Just showed up when I was taking the trash out and attacked." The glasses went on the counter and a hand went up to Mac’s face rubbing his eyes. "What else?"

"He was born as Mark Allen, in England, 1887. Died sometime in WW 1, took his first head in 1928, self-defense. That’s when we first knew about him. Since then, he hasn’t been very active in the game, had a wife in Toronto. She did pass away recently."

"But why come after me, Joe?" Confusion was clear in his voice.

"For all your 400 years, you can still be stumped. It gives hope for all us normal folk." Leaving the register bleeping to itself, Joe was piling dishes into a tray to take to the kitchen, studiously ignoring the slightly fuming look on Duncan’s face.

"Ha, Ha. And here I though I might get a moment of serious conversation out of you. Any theories on why me? When you’re done making fun of my mental processes of course." Looking up, Duncan was in a slightly better mood now. The shadow was gone from his eyes and all that was left was the need to solve the mystery.

"Could it be something from the war?"

"I was a medic! Besides, I would have remembered if I met him."

"Something more recent then?"

"What though? Why hunt me down and how did he know I was here?"

"You’re not that hard to find. Do you think he would look for you actively?"

"How the hell would I know?" MacLeod was getting exasperated. There were too many questions, not enough answers. By now the bar was pretty much cleaned up and the sun was starting to filter through the window. Screw the rest of it. Time to get some sleep before they both started coming up with conspiracy theories.

"Listen, I’m drawing a blank here, Mac. Go home and get some sleep. Don’t let it worry you."

"That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have people popping out of the wood work trying to take your head." MacLeod picked up his coat and headed for the door.

"Nope, but I have to pay taxes on this place. That’s worse."

"Hey, I pay my taxes." The highlander almost sounded hurt.

"Yah, but you’ve also got a Swiss bank account."

Chapter 6

I woke up with a nose full of fluff and sneezed. Oh. Yah. The bear. Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled around for a few minutes and after pulling some pants on, made my way to the bathroom. Peering into my eyes, I squinted, patted at my frizzed hair then wiped my face off with a face cloth. I looked like death. Oh well. Grabbing my hairbrush, I pulled out the elastic holding my braid and wandered into the bar. Joe did a lousy job of cleaning up. Must have been a late night.

Pulling a carton of milk out of the bar fridge, I poured a glass then started to clean up the mess that was leftover from last night. There where a few glasses left in corners and the place still needed to be vacuumed. So I picked up the change lying around on the floor, put it in the can that held the renovation fund, then proceeded to clear off the last of the clutter off the tables before wiping them down. All that was really left now, was the vacuuming.

My back was to the door when I felt the draft up my spine; the vacuum covered any noise the door might have made. Pretending not to notice, I moved over to one of the tables and picked up a heavy ashtray on the pretext of vacuuming it out. Finally turning around, I glanced over to see who was at the door.

"Hi Jarod." I put the ashtray down and turned off the vacuum.

"You don’t relax much do you?" He stepped out of the doorway, the dim sunlight playing across his grin as he walked out of the shadows.

"Huh?" Confusion tinted my voice.

"The whole, pretending not to notice me while you went over to pick up the ashtray." Jarod was having fun teasing me. Not that I minded all that much.

"And here I thought I was being discrete. Actually, I think it’s just habit." I moved over to the vacuum and started wrapping up the cord. I had pretty much finished cleaning up and once the vacuum was put away, I was free for the day. "How’d you get in? Pick the lock?" I wasn’t sure if I really trusted him yet. He knew a lot about me, but I didn’t know much about him.

"Yes. You should get Joe to put in a better dead-bolt." He grinned a little sheepishly.

"Let me guess, breaking and entering is another of your many talents." The cord was all wrapped up and I maneuvered the beast to the closet where we hid all the necessary cleaning equipment.

"Along with safe cracking." This time his grin was just cocky.

"That sounds like an interesting tale. You’re going to have to tell it to me sometime." I tried to close the closet door but the hose decided it didn't want to stay in on it's own.

"It’s actually something I sort of stumbled into." His face lit up with what had to be a private joke, but his eyes sparkled, daring me to say something. I decided to change the subject instead.

"So what brings you here this early in the morning?" I finally just kicked the hose in and slammed the door so that the hose didn't have time to slip back out, before turned my full attention to him.

"It’s eleven." His voice betrayed his confusion.

"Yah, which is pretty early if you’re usually tending and cleaning the bar until four or five in the morning." Picking up my hairbrush and my empty glass, I looked over at him. "You never answered my question Jarod."

"Well, I thought I’d see if you wanted some company." He met my eyes, but for a Pretender this guy was a lousy liar. Maybe I just knew what to look for.

"Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of Sheba." I paused. My mouth was talking without me again. "I shouldn’t say that, 'cause for all I know I could be. Anyway, you came over here to dig for information, didn’t you?"

"Guilty as charged." He smiled. I love that smile of his.

"Well, I’m pretty much done here. Why don’t we find someplace that actually serves breakfast? Left-over ribs and stale fries are not my idea of a balanced meal." I dumped my glass in the sink and waited for the inevitable question.

"You don’t mind talking about your past?" He sounded rather unsure of himself, as if that was not exactly what he was expecting. It was kinda cute.

"Well, I mind, but you seem to know more about me than I do and I have a feeling that ignorance is not going to be a viable defense in whatever’s happening." Heading around back, I grabbed a spare set of keys and started braiding my hair back out of the way.

"Why do you think something is going on?" Jarod called out as I was waking back into the main room.

"Look around you. There's the explosion at which I was found. Later on, there’s a dead body outside of the Dojo, where I work out. Next you show up on the scene. After that, the FBI become involved in what is essentially a local matter. A bizarre local matter, but still local.

"Once chance, twice coincidence, three times, someone’s messing with you. This is four" I twisted an elastic around the tail of my braid and hoped it would stand up to the weather outside, whatever it was.

"An interesting analysis." He had the smug look on his face. He already knew something was up and he probably had a better idea of what all it was, as well.

"What can I say, get hit on the head hard enough and Pinky becomes Brain." I returned his smug grin.

"What?!?!?" Got him.

"Joe has a TV in the back and I got hooked on the stupidest show, Pinky and the Brain." Stepping out the door, the wind tugged at my hair trying to pull it out of its loose braid. So much for weather proof. I hadn't expected wind.

"Pinky. And the Brain." He had the greatest expression on his face. Well, I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t have much of a life. That was pretty much my reaction the first time I saw the show.

"Yup, they’re these two lab rats… Well, I think they’re mice actually. So they’re talking laboratory mice, their genes have been spliced – that’s from the opening song by the way – and every evening they plot to try to take over the world." I dropped my voice into a lousy imitation of Brain.

"Why do they want to take over the world?"

"Not sure, I’ve only been watching for a few weeks. Any way, Pinky’s the lovable, stupid one and Brain is, well, the brain. And he’s really full of himself." We’d finally reached his car, a nondescript red something with nothing too remarkable about it. Well, nothing if one ignored the collection of small toys on the dash.

"And people watch this on television?" he asked.

"Well, it’s for kids, but it’s not bad." I waited for him to get around to unlocking my door.

"Why do you watch it, if it’s for kids?"

"Why do you have Pez dispensers taped to the dash of your car?"

"Point taken." he conceded.

"I should hope so."

***

Scully took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Why they couldn’t get one of the grunts around there to do the background checks, she didn’t know. It would certainly save time and eyestrain. But Mulder was on one of his paranoia trips and wasn’t into trusting anyone all that much. So, Scully was doing the official side of things while the ever popular Lone Gunmen where checking out alternative sources of information.

Tapping at a few more keys, she squinted at the screen before she remembered she hadn’t put her glasses back on. She leaned back in the chair to let the information sink into her brain, thinking over what they’d managed to find out.

Richie Ryan had a rather long rap sheet as a juvenile, although he appeared to have straightened out the last few years, and Joe Dawson had some impressive commendations in his military record until his medical discharge. The two of them checked out as much as anyone would. Jane, however, was a complete blank (no surprise there) and Jarod was almost as bad. Scully had accessed his records from the Seattle PD, but they were surprisingly bare bones, with no information from before his transfer.

The Lone Gunmen had found a few articles about him under different names but they always had him portrayed as the good guy; the strangest thing was the level of intellect this man had to pass himself off in the professions attributed to him. In one place he’s an ER doctor, then a researcher dealing with coma victims, an Engineer, a race car driver and now a police officer.

Duncan had a history going back about ten years before he faded into obscurity, with frequent moves between Seattle and Paris. There were a few possible birth records that could or couldn’t be his, and some nebulous school records, but nothing even remotely concrete. That made three people who fit Mulder’s initial criteria as cult members.

Leaving her glasses on the desk she was using, she got up and headed over to Mulder. He was sitting there going over the events of the more recent murders. There were a few bits and pieces that were consistent if you looked hard enough. The most useful were a series of cases in New York, back in ’85. The police had even managed to scare up some witnesses for one case. The witnesses weren’t what could be called reliable, but there were enough similarities in the various accounts that you could call them facts.

"There can be only one." he mumbled to himself.

"One what, Mulder? Phone company?" She looked down over his shoulder, for once being able to see the top of his head. Standing over him gave her a vicarious sense of power. It was pathetic, but being only 5’4" she had to take such opportunities as they came.

"I’m not sure. But in the one case, the witnesses reported the victor saying that phrase." Mulder popped some sunflower seeds in his mouth and chewed on them thoughtfully. "There can be only one."

Damn, he wasn’t noticing. "Maybe it’s a duel for leadership? Only one leader?" Giving up on the hope of intimidating her partner, she sat on the desk and tried to look like she cared.

"Then there are the swords. I talked to an antique dealer and had him go over the reports on the weapons. In each case, the swords were well taken care of; cleaned, sharpened and any flaws re-forged. In some cases, the work done on the sword reduced the value as an antique. They were working weapons. And yet most were dated back to before the civil war." Mulder’s mouth turned down at the corners, he was just on the verge of one of his wild theories but something was missing.

"So they’re a bunch of old geezers battling for the leadership of the Free Masons." Scully couldn’t really help it. She knew she was being petty right now, but staring at a computer screen since 8 in the morning will do that to a woman.

"That’s it!" He practically jumped up from his seat and started rummaging through the pile of file folders on his desk. It wasn't like he couldn't remember the reports he'd read word for word, but he liked having them in front of him so he could show the proof to Scully.

"What’s it?" She just sighed. No chance of stopping early today.

"Can you take another look at the body we have? I don’t think they’ve released it yet." Mulder gave up on finding the elusive report and looked up at her. If he was right, the other autopsy reports wouldn't add much.

"What am I looking for?" If she had to redo an autopsy before lunch, she’d kill him.

"Any imperfections in the body, signs of aging, regular organ degeneration, that sort of thing." He looked up at her expectantly. Too bad. That could wait until she’d had some food.

"That sort of thing." She gave him a blank look. "Spit it out Mulder."

"The case in New York, one of the witness reported that he shot the perpetrator full of enough lead for him to 'drop him like a rino'. Instead, the guy gets up and runs the witness through with a sword. There was a case in France where a bike racer died in a crash, only to be seen leaving the country a few days later."

"What else." She could already feel the pounding begin behind her eyes. There was always something else.

"A few years ago, MacLeod was caught in a hostage situation. The security cameras caught the terrorists taking out one of the hostages, our own Duncan MacLeod, and shooting him in the back of the head as an object lesson." Mulder’s eyes lit up as he started processing all the pieces that were coalescing in his mind and his voice reflected that enthusiasm

"And…" She had to have some Tylenol around there somewhere. His enthusiasm was giving her a headache. She should know better than to go on a case with Mulder without at least a bottle of Extra Strength.

"And he looks pretty good for a dead man. Don’t you see? These deaths have been going on for hundreds of years. What if the people committing them have been around for hundreds of years."

"I know I haven’t said this for a while, but you’re nuts. The witness in New York, the one run through, was a survival nut and was also convinced he saw lighting coming from the dead man. I don’t even want to know where you got the information about the racer, but I bet that it’s unconfirmed, and as for Duncan MacLeod supposedly getting shot in the back of the head, those things can be faked and since he’s walking around, it most obviously was." She took a breath to get ready for the next series of theories she would have to punch holes into.

"Just take another look at the body. I can tell you right now, there will be no signs of aging even on a cellular level. The victim will be in perfect health aside from the lack of head."

So a bunch of … immortals, for lack of a better word, were running around beheading each other, cause if they’re immortal, that’s the only way to kill them, and they’re doing that so they can be the only one of something. It was going to be one of THOSE weeks.

"You have to feed me first," she said.

"Huh?" He looked faintly surprised that she wanted to delay the search for the truth, but her stomach was growling and she really needed the break before she shot someone.

"If you want that body re-examined, you have to feed me first." Donuts and coffee are not going to get her through this day. Picking up the phone she dialed the morgue. "And I want real food. Yes, hello. This is Agent Scully. I was wondering if you still had the Marcus body available?"

Listening to the earpiece, she okayed a few times.

"I’ll be down as soon as I get back from lunch." Listening to the reply she gave a slight laugh, said okay and then hung up.

"Where do you want to go?" Mulder looked at her with a slight hangdog expression, but she wasn’t going to let him off easy. He still owed her the lunch he promised her when the last case had her missing lunch, supper and the next day's breakfast.

"Sushi. Good sushi. I don’t think Skinner will take food poisoning as a valid excuse."

"Having most of the fluids drained from our body, possession by alien microbes and mandatory quarantine he’ll take, but food poisoning is too far out there." He picked up his coat and started shrugging it on.

Grabbing her purse up from were it still sat on the other desk, she gave him a dirty look and headed out the door, her coat draped over her arm. Pausing at the car, she looked her partner over. He was looking better than last night and he was also joking around.

"Did you drop those pictures off with the computer analyst?" She stepped into the car then so she wouldn't have to see the expression on his face, but his responding comment, while not cheerful, was far from the agony of yesterday.

"He’s going to look over them in the next few days but he’s pretty busy right now. There’s a missing children campaign coming up and the Commissioner is after him to finish that up first. He was going to try and get started on it tonight."

"Do you think it could really be her?" It was a touchy question, but she had to ask.

"I keep telling myself it’s just a joke someone’s playing on me. But somehow. . . "

"You think it’s real."

***

"This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I suggested breakfast." I looked around Jarod’s apartment. It was a nice, middle class apartment, not too cheap, not too expensive. And it was clean too. I’d been over to Richie’s bachelor pad once and that is not an experience to be repeated without a gas mask. Glancing around, I noticed a laptop on the table, surrounded by a dozen different Pez dispensers. I picked up Bugs Bunny and placed him beside Elmer Fudd.

"Well, it’s quiet and I promise, I can cook." Jarod was already in the kitchen, digging in the fridge.

"Wow, a guy who can cook and is willing to do so. Rare combination. Are you sure you’re not married?" I petted the three dogs sitting on the couch. I couldn’t help it.

"Not since the last time I checked. Besides, for all you know you could be married yourself." His voice was only slightly muffled from his being in the kitchen.

"No ring and no tan line. I’d guess I’m single." Heaven help me if I had a husband running around somewhere.

"How does an omelet on toast sound?" Jarod stuck his head out of the kitchen, a box of eggs in his hand.

"Got any cheese?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Sounds great. Lots of cheese though." I sat down in one of the chairs, pulling one foot under me. There wasn’t much in the way of personal effects here. Mostly just the Pez and the dogs. Eventually I piped up. "How long have you been living here?"

"Not long, why?" He was already back in the kitchen; the sound of breaking eggs and the scratch of a wire whisk now drowned out by our conversation.

"Not planning on staying long are you." I said that as a statement, not a question.

"You know, I think the Center put you in the wrong project." Jarod came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"That’s the second time you’ve mentioned the Center. And why do I think it should be spelt with a capital?"

"I though you didn’t want to know?" He knew quite well why I was there in the first place. He just had to rub it in a bit more I guess. Or I was just getting a bit on the touchy side.

"Like I said, ignorance doesn’t look like an option, anymore. I can’t keep hiding. Time to find out who I am." Getting up I headed into the kitchen, hiding my anxiety with action. "You got any dishes in here or do you eat off of plastic?"

"Up by the sink. Do you really want to know?" His voice sounded a bit more muffled rebounding into the kitchen. I’d dug out two plates and some glasses.

"Will you quit asking me that. I said so, didn’t I?" I was now going through the drawers looking for cutlery. Not much to choose from, but I got enough for the two of us. Stepping into the room, I froze when I heard my own voice.

". . . shouldn’t be here. This is our gym. . . " I walked over and stared at the screen of the laptop. It was me all right, with short hair, dressed all in black. I watched the scene play out, till the screen went blank. My hand reached out to touch picture I still saw, trying to verify it. I barely noticed as the glasses I had tucked under my arm started to slip out.

"Ann?" Jarod was now behind me, though I hadn't heard him move.

"I’m not that person any more. I don’t think I have been for a while. I’m Jane now. I. . . " I absently glanced over at Jarod before returning to look at the empty screen. "I don’t remember anything though. I know that was me, but I don’t remember any of it."

"Nothing’s coming back? Nothing at all?" He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't sound too surprised.

"Nothing." I finally put the dishes I still carried on the table and sat down. "Do you have any more of me?"

"Not much, just a few glimpses from when you were younger."

"Can I see them?"

"Sure. Just hold on a minute." He took out a small disc and replaced the one the computer spat out. "Here. There’s just a glimpse."

I watched as a younger version of myself walked by in the background, following the man that I called Father in the other scene. I was about twelve.

"Who is that man? Is he my father?" I was still looking at the frozen frame of me as a young teen.

"Not your biological father. But other than that I couldn’t say." Jarod sat down in a chair beside me and started to pull out prints obviously taken from the video footage.

"This is from the Center, isn’t it?" I fingered the pictures and compared them to the one still on the screen.

"Yes." he said. I looked up when I heard the harsh tone in his voice. His eyes were so cold, looking off into the past.

"Tell me about it?" I whispered.

"The Center is a corporation that is involved in everything and anything. They took me from my parents when I was a child and kept me there. I learned to get into people’s heads, to Pretend to be them. They used what I learned and exploited it." He paused, then looked over at me, his voice taking on a bit more inflection after the flat, emotionless explanation of earlier. "The most I could find out is that you came to the Center some time around 1976 or ‘77. They trained you to be an assassin. You were gone by ‘88. Before or after that, I don’t know."

I used to be an assassin. It explained a lot of things, but other questions still rebounded in my head. Like how I left the Center, who the man I called Father was and why I still couldn’t remember a thing. "How come I can remember a few fragments from before I went there, at least I assume it’s from before, and I can almost remember things that happened after, but there’s nothing in the middle? That’s more than just a whack on the head." I stood up and started to pace. Not far, but I had to move.

"The Center has been involved with all sorts of research. Much of it pertained to brain development in area’s like memory retention and the possibility of altering it." His word left a cold chill down my spine,

"You mean the Center stole my memories from me? Of my time there?" I could feel emotion boiling up in me. Someone had done this to me and I didn’t even remember it. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, making it hard to see. Blinking back the tears I focused on Jarod’s face, waiting for his reply though I already knew the answer.

"Yes." His voice was still as flat as earlier.

"But why not from before? Why not everything? Why can I still remember a few things?" A tear spilled over and streaked down my face. Ignoring it and the one that followed, I turned away, starting to pace again.

"The stronger the memory the harder it is to cover, but you don’t have much from before. That’s probably all they’ve left you." His voice cut through my mind clearing out the panic I thought I’d managed to control. Jarod had been in the tape as well.

"You were there too." Turning back to him, I came and stood right beside him. My hand strayed to his arm, as I put aside my fear and tried to understand him, hopefully helping me to understand myself. "What did they take from you?"

"They took my family. I never knew my mother and father. They took my brother, just like they took me, and killed him." His face was contorted, filled with sadness. This was hard for both of us. "I have a sister I’ve seen once, for only a few seconds." Abruptly his face changed, the grief not leaving but changing into something else. "But I have a past. You don’t." His face now had a hard gleam in his narrowed eyes.

"They screwed up though. I can remember enough to find out the rest." With that statement, I felt something leave me. I took a breath and it felt like the first I had ever taken. I scrubbed a hand across my face, erasing the memory of the tears, then glanced up. Jarod and I looked at each other, knowing what the other was feeling, both of us beginning to understand the other.

I smelled the smoke first.

"Um Jarod."

"Yes?"

"I think the omelets are burning."

***

"You weren’t kidding. This is good." I stuffed another bite of omelet in my mouth. It was from a new batch.

"What can I say, I’m versatile." A lazy grin spread across his face.

"I’m sure." We were teasing each other again. I guess I never had much of a chance to do that before. From what I’d just found out, I don’t think either of us had much of what could be called a normal life.

"Jarod, what do I do now?" I was unsure of myself. Stick me in the middle of a war zone and I’d be fine, but right then, I was completely lost.

"What do you want to do?" Trust Jarod to ask me that. I look for an answer and he gives me a question. I thought about it for a bit. The unknowns were starting to stack up and the fear I'd had to overcome was being replaced with curiosity.

"I want to find out more about who I am. Who I was." There was a break in the conversation as we sat and finished off the last few bites of breakfast. Suddenly something clicked in my mind and I had a face to put together with the voice I’d remembered the last time I talked to Jarod. Taking a bite of toast, I got up and gathered together the dishes, stacking them all on top of each other; glasses on plates on fry pan with the knives and forks piled on the side. Jarod broke the easy silence we’d fallen into.

"Do you think you have any family?" His tone was idle curiosity itself, but he had a speculative gleam in his eyes. He wanted to see my reaction to the question, more than the answer.

I looked inside myself asking that question, expecting to feel empty by it but instead, I was filled with peace. I could feel my mouth tug up into a slight grin.

"Somewhere. Maybe that’s what I remember. The word I can’t quite hear, I think it’s a name. I just can’t make it out it." I listened in my head to the whispered word, trying again to understand it. Putting the dishes in the sink, I looked over to where Jarod was wiping the table off. "I might even find them someday."

"What about after the Center? You remember something." It wasn’t a question.

Adding the dishes he’d made dirty earlier, I ran some hot water into the sink to soak them before I turned to face him and changed the subject. "Let’s go to the Dojo. I could use a work out." I arched an eyebrow up. "Want to Play?"

"Oh no you don’t. Getting flipped like that once in my life is enough." He wasn’t being any fun.

"Wus." I said, keeping a straight, blank face and trying to egg him on.

"So" Definitely no fun.

"Coward."

"Really?" he asked. Well, no. But I wasn’t gonna tell him that.

"Afraid to take on little ol’ me?" Of course little ol’ me had already taken him down a few times already.

"No, I just like all my body parts were they are. It would be interesting to see you in action. Just as long as I’m not the target." He gave a wry grin and threw the cloth into the sink with a splash that just missed me.

"You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen Duncan. With him, it’s an art form." I got up and looked for my keys. Jarod went over to the closet, pulling out his leather jacket.

"Need one?" He rummaged a bit more and pulled out a spare coat. I’d left mine at the bar.

"Sure." I slipped in the over sized coat and pushed up the sleeves so they were out of the way. The sky was more overcast than it was this morning and it looked to be threatening rain. Heading out of the door, he locked it and we started down the stairs.

"Will you tell me what you remember afterwards?" Busted.

"And here I thought I’d gotten your mind off the topic. I’ll tell you what I can, but I have to talk to Duncan first." I ran down the stairs barely hearing his reply.

"Then let’s go play."