Chapter 3

I woke up with light flickering in my eyes. Getting up, I looked over at my brother as he slept in his clothes, on top of the covers. He must have fallen asleep watching TV. The light played across his closed eyes and the short stubble on his chin, his arm propped up on his chest, the other curled around it protectively.

Leaving him to his rest, I got up and headed over to the bathroom, wincing as the movement pulled at the gash on my side. Taking off the bandage, I dabbed at the gash with a wet face cloth, working off some of the built up scab. I knew you shouldn’t mess with it, but I wiped the cut gently anyway and spread a little antibiotic cream on it before putting on some clean gauze and taping it back up. It had seeped a little over night, but was otherwise doing well.

After taking care of that, I rinsed a little water in the sink and splashed it on my face. Staring up at the mirror, I took inventory of everything I saw. This self-examination seemed to be something I had to do on a regular basis. But this time, I had a name to place with the face in the mirror. A real name. But I was still the person I was before, wasn’t I? Finding my brother didn’t change who I was.

So I had three names, three identities. Sam, the missing sister, the child I was. Then there’s Ann, the trained assassin, the person that girl was trained to be. And last but not least, there’s Jane, the person that girl chose to be. If I wasn’t careful I was going to end up with an identity crisis.

Giving a snort of amusement, I shook my head and left my musings behind. I was the person I would choose to be. Names didn’t matter. Grabbing a complimentary comb, I sat down with the mess of my hair and started to comb it out. I still had it in the ponytail from last night and by now, it was a matted mess. I knew I should have braided it. Taking out the elastic and patiently separating the strands, I thought about my family.

Fox told me what he could in the time we’d had, but there were still gaps. My father was dead and Fox wouldn’t talk about him. For some reason, that didn’t really surprise me. My mother had had a stroke, but was doing fine now. After I disappeared, things in the family had gotten rough and Fox glossed over those times. But the stories he’d told me about when he was at Oxford and his adventures in the FBI gave me some insight into the person that my brother had become. I remembered so little, that those second hand memories were precious.

Finally finishing up with my hair, I tightly braided it back. Changing into a spare shirt I’d grabbed last night, I slipped into my jeans and was ready to face the world. Then I opened the door and stepped through, glancing at Fox still asleep on the bed with his tie dangling from one of the bedpost. It was an interesting tie to be sure. Creeping to the main door, I was almost out when I paused and left a note where he’d see it when he woke up. I was just going to go and get some breakfast.

By the time I got back, he was awake and in the shower. Leaving the card key back where I’d grabbed it earlier, I sat on the bed and changed the channel. He must be a total TV addict to leave it on while he was in the shower. Flipping through, I ended up on a kids' show with a whole bunch of puppets running around. There was the red one that was really cute, Elmo. Or maybe he was orange; it was hard to tell.

Changing the channel again, I managed to find a news station on a local break. They had some great pictures of the bar from last night. According to the reporter, it was all gang related. Hearing the shower stop, a few minutes later Fox came out with water dripping off his hair but somehow his bandaged arm was still dry. He looked at the report that was just recapping before going on to the weather. We both ignored our argument from last night, pretending that it never happened.

"There were a lot of MiBs firing fully automatic weapons at us for it to be a gang war, don’t you think?" All I got for an answer was an amused snort. "What?"

"The report wasn’t all that bad. You should have seen what they did with a few of the other cases I was involved with. They normally end up in the tabloids. World Weekly did a great write up on the cockroach invasion." Fox buttoned up a clean shirt (one handed! Something told me he’d done this before) and pulled a tie out of his travel bag. At least this one was a bit more subtle.

"Ready to go see Scully?" I waited while Fox grabbed his suit jacket. "How can you stand wearing something like that in this weather?"

"Part of the uniform." He struck a pose and pulled a serious face. "Now all I need are the sunglasses."

***

Duncan sat looking out the large window in front of him. It seemed to be a time for memories, first Tessa and now Catherine. He had first met her when she was in college as the daughter of one of the professors he worked with. She was getting a business degree, fighting against the male dominated establishment, and then she fell in love with one of her colleagues. They were going to start their own corporation with her trust fund and devote it to research. It was going to be some sort of think-tank. The last time he’d seen her was the day of her wedding.

"Duncan you don’t understand, this is the best thing." She was very stubborn and very sure of herself. When they first met, they’d become fast friends and had been butting heads ever since.

"How? That man is a . . . a. . . " Duncan had an uneasy feeling about the man she’d chosen to marry, not so pronounced as foreboding, but more like shivers up his spine. There was more to this man than Catherine saw.

"I don’t want to hear it. Mr. Parker is a good man." She gave him a look that told him to drop it, but he’d known her long enough to ignore it.

"Then why do you call him Mr. Parker. Doesn’t he have a first name?" He was picking her up for her father, entrusted to get her to the church with enough time for her to get ready.

"You can be childish if you want. The truth is that I love him and we’re going to do something wonderful." She looked up at him with those soft eyes, her smile filling the room.

"And you’re going to do this together." There was marked lack of enthusiasm in his statement.

"Of course." She flashed him a coquettish little grin, then turned around to finish packing up the cosmetics spread before her. "And when we have children, they’ll grow up and learn about everything we’re doing so that they can follow in our footsteps." She was teasing him and he knew it.

"Sounds wonderful." That came out even drier than his last comment.

"You could always come work for us." Again she smiled at him, coyly looking up at him through her eyelashes. Duncan felt his heart jump.

"Not my area." There was more emotion in that than he had intended, but Catherine didn’t hear it.

"Of course not, Professor MacLeod, historian extraordinaire." Her eyes were dancing with mischief. "Don’t worry, we’ll have lot’s of help. We already have a person to start researching child behavior, a Mr. Raines. He’s already come up with some fascinating theories on the capacity of children to pretend."

"And how is that going to benefit mankind." Talking about what Catherine had dubbed the Center made him nervous. It was a fine dream, but he’d seen enough good ideas get twisted and destroyed to be cautious. Unlike Catherine.

"Well, if a child can pretend to be something, isn’t it possible they could become that? Think about it, training future doctors and lawyers and, I don’t know, even Policemen, while they’re still children. No more need to study so long and hard, waiting so long before a person can become whatever they want. To the children, they’d just be playing."

"It all sounds fine on paper, but do you think this is possible?" He looked at her with her hopes for the future and prayed she had the strength to keep this project from being exploited. He didn’t like the sound of research involving children.

"Maybe not with all children. But it’s possible that with a few of them, you could expand their minds when they’re still young, maybe to the point that they could become anything they wanted to be. What could a person like that be able to contribute to society?" Her eyes were shining, full of idealized thoughts of the future.

"It boggles the mind." He, however, was definitely in a dark mood.

"Oh don’t be so glum, I’m getting married today. I bet you never thought I’d find a man who’d put up with me and all my wild ideas." Finished packing, she handed him the bags filled with make-up, shoes and such, and picked up the large box that housed her dress and heading to the door.

"Oh, I knew you’d find someone." He thought for a while that she might love him, as he had come to love her, but she’d met Mr. Parker first.

"Ha! I always thought I was going to be one of those spinsters you read about who grow old and leave their estates to their cats." Out in the spring sunshine, she walked away from the apartment she rented, stepping into her future.

"Not likely. You are a lovely and talented young woman, and you have a wonderful future ahead of you." Duncan stomped on his errant thoughts and the ignored the ache in his heart. "Come on, we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up."

"I’m not the one who’s taking forever to open the door." Over the door of the car, she looked at him uncertainly. "Am I doing the right thing?"

"All I can say is follow your heart and trust where it takes you." Closing the door behind her, he went to take her to the church.

They had started up their dream in a place called Blue Cove and though she wrote regularly at first, the letters soon tapered off and the two of them lost touch. When her father died of a heart attack two years after her marriage, she was close to term with her first child and couldn’t make the journey. The last word he’d gotten was a birth announcement for her daughter.

And the little girl had grown up. She looked so much like her mother it was like looking at a ghost. Unfortunately, she seemed more inclined to followed in her father’s footsteps than her mother’s. Getting up, Duncan walked over to the kitchen, his mind still full of the dreams and hopes Catherine had had for her Center. He wondered how she’d died. Miss Parker had said it was a long time ago. Perhaps she’d died of a broken heart when she realized what had happened to her dream. From what Duncan had heard so far, the Center wasn’t exactly a humanitarian society.

Taking a sip of the drink in his hand, his mind returned to the present. Miss Parker, unlike her mother, was going to be in for a very long and interesting life.

***

Walking into the hospital was harder than I thought it would be. I knew it was a silly fear, but I could feel a chill settle into my bones as I entered. But I wasn’t about to be ruled by an irrational fear of a building. Following Fox into the building, we ambushed Scully’s doctor and got her prognosis before we headed to her room.

I left Fox as he stepped into her room, unwilling to intrude on their private moment. Standing outside, I listened to the faint murmur of their voices. Those two were very close. Not lovers, but they depended on each other so much that their lives had become completely entwined. I don’t think either of them could imagine life without the other. I envied them that.

Stepping away from the wall I was leaning against, I headed to the gift shop. Maybe I could get Scully a gift like flowers or something. Actually, flowers seemed too. . . normal and a card was just as inane. I think she’d be more of a stuffed animal type of person. None of that cutesy, pink, fuzzy bunny stuff, but maybe something funny, like Marvin the Martian or something.

The white hallways didn’t seem to bother me as much as I thought they might and wandering the halls didn’t hold the same tension that I had walking into the building in the first place. My stomach did do this queer flip-flop when I saw a patient walking down the hall with a pole and an IV line in her arm. I had to swallow a few times to clear the apprehension I felt. Picking up my pace, I made it to the main floor and buried myself in the gift shop.

I looked up as I saw a body enter the shop out of the corner of my eye. It was Jarod. Curiosity overwhelmed my idle thoughts regarding fuzzy things so putting down the little plush cat, I went over to look at what he was picking up. He glanced up as I approached and a lazy grin spread across his features.

"Love’s Deceit? You never struck me as the type to read Romance novels." The gaudy purple cover had a half-naked woman held in the fervent embrace of some guy in chaps and a vest. Prominently pinned on his shoulder was an oversized silver star. Oh Pu-lease.

"Actually I’ve written a few myself." He had to wait a few minutes for me to pick my jaw off the floor before I could actually reply.

"I’m not sure I even want to know all the details about that." I looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "You have got to fill me in about that. So what’s this for then?"

"Oh it’s a present." He placed a twenty on the counter to pay, then switched over to another topic. "I thought you’d still be at the hotel with Mulder?"

"Yea, well, you can only sleep for so long and Fox was starting to climb the walls worrying over Scully. So what are you doing here? I don’t think you’d come all this way just to check on her and I don’t think bodice rippers are Scully’s style?" I couldn’t for the life of me guess why he was here.

"I thought I’d drop in and see how things are going with Miss Parker." He said it calmly like going to see the person who was trying to return you to a life of slavery was a daily occurrence.

"What?!?!?"

Jarod let a slow grin spread across his face. "She’s on her own right now and her back up won’t make it here for at least another hour. I thought I’d see what I can find out from her."

"Ohh, you’re mean." I felt a similar grin light up my face. "Can I watch?"

***

"So how’s the patient?" Mulder poked his head into the room. Looking up briefly from the book her nose had found, Scully gracefully pushed her glasses up and went back to the scene where Kilkenny was finally gonna kiss Rita.

"I’m in the last two pages of a book." She didn’t do much else to acknowledge his presence and hoped she would be able to recapture the moment.

"What are you reading?" He wasn’t taking the hint. She threw a brief glance at the cover before absently replying while trying to find her place on the page.

"Mountain Valley War."

"A western?" The disbelief was thick in his voice.

"No immortals, assassins, or strange geniuses." Giving up on finding out whether or not Lance Kilkenny would actually kiss the girl, she reluctantly slid a piece of paper in her page and put it down. "Or Vampires, Witches, Fluke monsters, deadly fungi, dog-eating Crocodiles, Mighty Morphin’ bounty hunters, Black ooze, green gunk, cockroa. . . "

"Okay, I concede. I will never complain about you choice in reading material again." He came up and sat on the edge of her bed, carefully avoiding her legs.

"It does have guns though. But I couldn’t find anything without guns that didn’t have half naked women on the front." Scully knew at that point that those painkillers they’d given her were talking. Thankfully Mulder changed the subject.

"So when are they letting you out of here?" He looked around the room, his eyes never resting too long on one spot. Seeing Scully in a hospital bed brought back too many memories of her cancer and image of her body slowly wasting away as she fought against it. Her voice, clear and strong, broke through his memories and brought him back to the present.

"In another hour, as soon as they finish up the paper work and I get a final okay from Dr. Kean." She pulled herself up a little further and took a good look at her partner. It actually looked like he got some slept last night. Not a lot, but some.

"Are you sure you’ll be fine?" In his voice was a note of concern that made her realize he was blaming himself for her injury. Again. And with less reason than usual. He always blamed herself whenever she got injured when they were on a case. He probably thought that if she hadn’t gotten involved with the X-Files, everything that had happened in the past years would never have occurred. But she’d seen enough to know bad things happened no matter what your life was like. In the X-files, she made a difference and she wouldn’t give that up if someone paid her.

"Mulder, the bullet came out last night with no complications. I lost surprisingly little blood and after a good night’s sleep undoubtedly longer than yours, I’m ready to tackle this problem." A little voice tickled away in the back of her mind, asking her if she did this for the X-files or for him.

"With crutches or a wheelchair?" he deadpanned. She tried not to smile but lost the fight. Quickly squashing the little grin, she put on a serious face and just looked at her partner.

"Ha-ha. Don’t quit you’re day job." When his face cracked and a smile broke through, she let her own resurface. They just sat and grinned at each other for a few seconds. "So, what are the plans for the day?"

"Everyone’s getting together at Duncan’s to pool our information." Mulder’s smile faded and he sighed.

"Are you’re okay with this?" Dana wasn’t sure why this would bother him; normally getting information would have him bouncing up and down. Given the thought of him doing that while sitting on the edge of her bed, she was almost relieved he didn’t. Almost.

"They know more about what’s happened to Sam then she does. There’s not much we can add. I’m just glad we’re invited."

***

Sitting up in bed, a frown marred what could easily be considered a beautiful face as Miss Parker fumed. Broots wouldn’t be arriving for another hour and half, and she couldn’t even get a nurse in there to get something to eat. They’d taken her for some tests during breakfast and by the time she’d gotten back, her half eaten meal was gone. Not to mention the fact that she really needed a cigarette. Her hand had just the barest waver that was a sure sign that if she didn’t get one soon, someone was going to die.

Then there was the mysterious stranger who’d popped in early this morning to see her. She wanted to know what he knew about her mother, but there was something about him that set her on edge. It was something that ran shivers up her spine and made her want to look over her shoulder. And to top it all off, the watch that Daddy had given to her on her birthday was smashed to bits. She didn’t think things could possibly get any worse. She was wrong.

Her first instinct was to throw her pitcher of water at the smug figure that sauntered into her room. Instead she leaned back into her pillow, scowling, and wished for a shotgun.

"So Jarod, come to gloat?" Her eyes narrowed as someone followed him in, sliding gracefully to the side of the door. "Who’s the charity case?"

"You are." He threw a package on the bed, neatly wrapped with a pink bow. His smug grin screamed at her and she seriously wished she was in a condition to wipe it off.

"Spare me."

"Aren’t you going to open it?" He almost sounded hurt. Not that she believed him.

"I’ll wait for the bomb squad to check it out first." She flashed him a saccharine smile and picked it up by the ribbon, dropping it with distaste on her bedside table.

"And here I thought you’d want some relief from the boredom of a hospital stay."

She refrained from dignifying that with an answer.

"Go ahead, open it," he urged.

Reaching over, half expecting him to disappear the moment her eyes were turned, she was almost startled to see him still there when she turned back. Taking a deep breath, she quickly opened the paper to reveal a tacky romance novel and a pack of cigarettes. Much as she wanted to rip open the pack and light one up right away, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. The book just lay on her lap, ignored.

"Cute. No cryptic messages, no mysterious toys? I’m almost disappointed." She gently picked up the pack, making a big show of checking it over for his usual tricks.

"Oh they’re on their way to Sydney right now. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love the Cotton Candy." He grinned at her and she had visions of her office filled with clouds of spun sugar. Wiping the idea out of her mind, she opened the pack and pulled out a cigarette. She had to stop herself from smelling it gratefully as she popped it in her mouth. Now all she needed was a light.

"So who’s the bimbo?" The faintly familiar figure now moved to stand at Jarod’s elbow and Miss Parker recognized her from the Bar last night. A corner of her mind noted that even now, the woman’s back wasn’t to the door.

"Another of the Center’s alumni." The light alto voice cut across the conversation. "You can call me Ann."

Miss Parker froze as the name, combined with the face, hit home. That was one of the Center’s Assassins. She wasn’t eased a bit by the amused smile that lit up the woman’s face.

"Get that bitch away from me." So much for playing it cool. Miss Parker tried disappear into her bed.

"Tsk, tsk, Miss Parker. Don’t you know that swearing is the sign of an unimaginative mind." The assassin’s soft voice almost rolled out to her and she really started wishing for a gun. A really, really big gun. The figure moved a step closer to the bed before continuing. "So tell me, how often does the Center try to kill their own people?"

"I don’t know where you picked her up, Jarod, but they make Lyle look normal." The quiver in her voice just seemed to make it harder for her to breathe. Miss Parker tried to calm her heart long enough to get through this without getting killed.

"Really Missy, it’s rude to ignore a person." Ann’s eyes lit up with an unholy gleam as she leaned over the bed. Miss Parker couldn’t help it. She flinched. A shadow passed in the eyes of the woman and she backed off.

"Scared Miss Parker?" Jarod spoke up but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the slim figure that now stood, perfectly still.

"No shit Sherlock. I don’t even want to know what you’re doing with her, but they aren’t sane."

"Oh?" Jarod looked at Miss Parker and realized she wasn’t just scared, she was terrified. Her face was washed of all color, her eyes wouldn’t budge from Sam’s position by the door and she wasn’t even listening to him. It annoyed him faintly but he could live with it. It offered some interesting possibilities. But for later.

"Miss Parker?" He was ready to say her name again, when her face turned back to him, her eyes still following the ex-assassin.

"What!" she snapped.

"Say Hi to Broots for me. And ask how Debbie is doing."

Chapter 4

I didn’t realize how upset I was by Miss Parker’s fear of me until I pushed open the fire doors so hard they slammed into the wall and left a dent. Jarod was a few steps behind me and he winced as the door made contact. Glancing down the hall, I took a deep breath when it proved to be empty and no one was coming to chew me out for the damage.

"It upset you, that she was afraid of you." Jarod came and stood beside me as I leaned against the wall, trying to calm down.

I didn’t feel like saying anything, but I had a suspicion he wouldn’t leave me alone until I spilled. Taking a deep breath, I tried to figure out all the conflicting emotions running through my head. Triumph at intimidating her, pleasure at the fear in her eyes and disgust at myself. Disgust at the person who could inspire such terror in a person with a glance.

"I wasn’t upset at her reaction but at my reaction." Another breath helped calm me down some more. "I was. . . It. . . " I was at a loss. I couldn’t put into words the self-hatred at coming face to face with the person I was, reflected in the eyes of another.

"You felt powerful at being able to so thoroughly intimidate a person."

"Well, that’s one way of putting it," I said dryly. "And when it hit me, all I could think about was, what kind of monster am I? What kind of person was I to. . . inspire such panic? How could I get a kick out of another person’s abject terror?" I looked up at Jarod, searching his face for something. Some sign that I wasn’t completely amoral.

"The fact that it bothers you is enough to let you know that you’re not a monster." His voice was kind, but there was a little squiggle of worry in his eyes.

"So what does that make me then?" For a person who wanted to start over, I wasn’t making that good a start.

"An x-assassin trying to put her life back together after having her memories ripped away and reclaim the life taken from her as a child. And I bet you thought it would be easy." He sounded altogether too smug saying that.

"And I thought I had a talent of stating the painful truth, but you just beat me there." Stepping away from the wall, I headed down the hall way to Scully's room.

By the time all was said and done, it would take her about another hour and a half to get out of the hospital, so Jarod and I took off. I had managed to calm down considerably and now we just sat in a nearby park until it was time to head over to Duncan’s. It was a clear day and the sun was beating down on us rather mercilessly until we moved over to the grass under a shady tree.

"So what are you going to do now?" I picked at few stems of grass and started to rip them up, leaving little bits of grass confetti all over my pants. "You can’t exactly stick around here now that the slave traders are back." Jarod looked a little askance at my description of Miss Parker and her crew.

"I guess not. I was thinking of heading to New York for a while. I don’t have anything in the works right now, so I’m pretty much free to go wherever I choose." He looked out over the people passing us by, eyes darting from one to the other under the cover of his sunglasses.

"So everything right in the world right now?" I grabbed another handful of grass and vented the last of my frustration as the green blades flutter away on the slight breeze.

"No." He took a deep breath before continuing, a grim smile in place. "But a person can only do so much and has to choose where they can do the most good."

I glanced over to where some kids were jumping around in a shallow fountain, their happy shrieks ringing through me as I wondered if I was ever that young. It was almost as if every thing that happened to me wasn’t possible. If it hadn’t been for Jarod, I wouldn’t even know what did happen.

"Jarod, why do you do it? Why do the whole Avenging Angel routine?" I guess I wanted to know why he had helped me, why he had gone out of his way to help me find myself. What did he see in me that was worth helping?

"Someone needs to help the people that the world ignores, the people who fall through the cracks. There aren’t that many people that care beyond there own concerns. Some have a total disregard for others while some simply see people in their way as obstacles." He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. "Most people just don’t look beyond their own problems."

"But why you?" Why did he have that need in him, to help the innocent and punish the guilty? His eyes clouded over as his mind worked.

"The Center used what I did to hurt people, twisting what I became so that they could use me for their power struggles. I help those who needed it so that no one could abuse people the way I was."

Something told me there was much more that he didn’t say and the conversation faltered, the quiet settling over us like a fog. It wasn’t an easy silence, being weighed down with the sorrow and anger rolling off of Jarod in waves. I thought back to the look on Miss Parker’s face when she figured out who I was. I wasn’t sure what type of person I was before and at that moment I didn’t want to know. I looked over to where Jarod now sat, leaning against the tree, his eyes not seeing the people he still scanned but lost in old memories that played across his face. I was very glad right then for my empty past.

"Can I help?" Where in heaven’s name did that come from? But now that it was out of my mouth, I didn’t want to take it back. I knew enough about who I was that I knew I needed to make up for the things I’d done. And what he’d said was true. Corny, but true. He looked at me over the rims of his sunglasses, giving me a surprised glance. I wasn’t the only one caught off guard by my question. Then a gentle smile crossed his face and my heart started beating faster than it should sitting down not really doing anything.

"If you want."

***

Stepping into the air-conditioned coolness of the Dojo, Joe was incredibly grateful Mac had managed to get everything up and running again. While his place stayed fairly cool in the summer heat, Adam’s apartment was stifling and the ancient Immortal didn’t even seem to notice it. But it was worth the trip to pick up the database.

Now he had the name and some background of Jane’s strange Immortal. He also went and picked up a few of his chronicles, hoping they’d have more details. Stepping into the groaning Elevator, he rode it to the loft stepped out into a blast of warm air. So much for air conditioning.

Looking around, he found Richie passed out on the couch with Duncan tip-toeing around. Mac shot him a disgusted look before noticing that the younger immortal hadn’t budged regardless of the noise. He looked at the reclined figure in annoyance.

"How on earth does he do that?" Duncan asked.

"Confidence of the young. But sleep looks more tempting than I’d care to admit." Joe limped over to a chair and plopped down, before rubbing his eyes.

"Didn’t you get any last night?"

"Nope, too busy annoying old friends and digging up information."

"Find anything?" Duncan came over and placed a cup of coffee in front of his friend.

"You could say that." With that, Joe put the case he had slung over his shoulder onto the table and started to pull things out. "This guy has quite a history. He’s fairly old, well over 800, and he’s got a checkered past that boggles the mind. When’s everybody else due?"

"Within the hour. Agent Mulder called and said he and Agent Scully where on their way, but as for the other two? I have no idea."

"Well, that’s no surprise," Jane called out as her head poked out from the stairwell. "You rarely have an idea in that pretty little head, Duncan."

"Speak of the devil." Duncan’s voice took on a dry, wry note.

"And I shall appear." She walked across the room, Jarod a step behind her, and went over to the couch. Looking down at Richie, still blissfully dead to the world, she got an evil gleam in her eye. "I wonder if he sleeps in the buff?"

"Now, now, Sam, be nice." Jarod had followed her in and started to set up his laptop next to the pile of information that Joe had set out.

"But Jarod, think about how much this will help him. He’s altogether too heavy a sleeper. If I was a less scrupulous person, I’d have taken his head by now." The look on her face was innocence itself, with her head cocked daintily to one side.

Duncan looked at her and just shrugged, while Joe gave a rueful shake of his head and started looking back through the papers he had stacked on the table. Jarod gave her a sharp look, but didn’t say anything as she turned back to her victim. With incredible patience, she eased the blanket out of his hand and pealed it from him.

Fortunately for Richie, he’d had the presence of mind to slip into a pair of sweat pants before collapsing on Mac’s couch. Unfortunately they did nothing against the ice that found itself on the back of his neck. With an undignified yelp, Richie jumped off the couch and glared into Jane’s highly amused eyes.

"So nice of you to join us this morning, Mr. Ryan." Jarod called out across the room from where he now sat beside Joe, both of them trying to suppress their laughter.

"Hey, Gimme a break, I died twice last night. That takes a lot out of a man." Getting off the slightly damp couch, Richie headed to the bathroom, muttering under his breath the entire way.

***

About twenty minutes after my amusement with Richie, Fox and Scully showed up. The groaning of the elevator gave us all ample warning and I got up to grab some extra chairs. Duncan’s table was already buried, so we had pulled out a card table and use that to house Jarod’s laptop, along with the information he’d accumulated on the Center. As the metal grillwork was pushed up, the two agents stepped in, Fox in his suit and Scully in a comfortable looking pair of sweat pants with a T-shirt. It could be said she hopped more than stepped though, as her crutches where just a tad on the long side.

Coming back with two chairs in hand, I smiled at my brother, who was in a much better mood now than the last time I saw him at the hospital, and held one out for Scully. She graciously dropped into the chair and waved Fox into the other one. After the requisite small talk that ensured that everyone was in better shape than the night before, Joe started to fill in the gaps in their knowledge.

"Well, we tracked down Jane’s mysterious Immortal." He picking up a picture from in front of him and slid it across so Scully and Fox could take a look. It was a good forty years old and the black and white face was grainy and slightly out of focus. "The first records we have of him date back to 1135 AD in England as Oliver of Kent. We don’t have anything on his first death though, so he could be much older. He spent some time as a knight, before we lost record of him.

"He showed up with the Puritans and Cromwell as Edward Beverly, then later showed up in the French courts known only as the Baron. That’s when we think he started his work as an assassin, but it could have been earlier. He specialized in elaborate schemes, that left the victim dead in a bizarre, but apparently accidental manner." Everybody leaned forward, looking at the various photos and copies of Watcher chronicles. I carefully fingered the picture of Father that Joe had passed around.

"He stayed till the revolution, when he had an apparent change of heart and started to help members of the aristocracy escape from Madame Guillotine, using the guise of an English noble, Percy Hampton, Lord Rochdale. He disappeared again for the next few hundred years until the late forties, where he ended up with MI6 doing the James Bond routine. He went by the name John Bentley.

"He met an American Agent, Alice Palmer, and they married in 1959. They moved to the States that year and as far as we can tell lived as a happily married couple for 5 years. They adopted a young boy, Timothy, but about three years later the boy was kidnapped. It was a real slick grab too. He spent the next year looking for his son, but with the death of his wife under suspicious circumstances, he went underground and we lost him."

"That’s all you’ve got?" I spoke up first, glancing around the table at everyone.

"We can add some more to his file, now that this has come up, but other than what you see here?" Joe shook his head then took a sip of his coffee. "We don’t have much else."

"What do we know about afterwards?" Fox looked up from the papers he was reading. Joe looked over at Jarod, letting him take over the narrative.

"He showed up at the Center in 1977 as Alex Thompson. He was there sporadically for a little over ten years, training Sam and others like her. He left sometime in 1989."

"Until last night. Fox and I had a chat with him." I spoke up, quickly outlining the conversation from last night. "So this leaves us with a lot of questions and not a lot of answers."

Chapter 5

A figure crept stealthily into the dim room, the pale pink of her nurse’s outfit contrasted sharply with her olive completion and straight black hair. The subtle noises of late evening in the hospital were subdued as the door clicked shut. On the bed lay a pale figure, wrapped in silk, head tossed back on the pillow, with her dark hair splayed around her. According to the doctor’s file, she’d had a healthy dose of painkiller as well as a sleeping pill thrown in. Miss Parker should be sleeping very peacefully by now.

Stepping lightly up to the IV unit, the nurse slid her hand into a pocket and pulled out a small hypodermic needle. Seconds later the needle was empty and redeposited in her pocket. Leaning back, the nurse contemplated her handy work.

It would take a few minutes for the agent to work its way through IV system and enter Miss Parker’s blood stream. Once there, it would only be a matter of seconds before a severe allergic reaction, resulting in anaphylactic shock, would cause the death of this particular witness. The chemical was detectable, but it wouldn’t show up on a standard toxicology report, so it would do under these circumstances.

The woman’s thoughts where rudely interrupted as the figure on the bed suddenly ripped out her IV and rolled off the bed onto the opposite side. Quickly jumping on to the bed, the nurse looked down into the corner only to find her prey was already out of sight.

"It’s no use to run. I’ll get you eventually. Why not make it easier on yourself?" Shifting her weight around, the nurse slowly scanned the room, knowing where Miss Parker was hidden, but more than willing to play with her target. She had thought it would be a fairly boring hit, but it was actually turning out to be a little fun.

"I could make it quick, Miss Parker, painless." Her excitement was starting to build as she hoped her prey would fight, adrenaline raging in anticipation of the kill. She could hear it seeping into her voice, giving it a breathless anticipation. She couldn't drag it out too long so she planned to enjoy herself while she could.

The woman slid off the bed and her hand snaked out underneath, grabbing a handful of hair. A quick jerk and the head hit the hard tile floor with a distinct smack. Dragging the stunned Miss Parker from under the bed, the assassin looked into her half-closed eyes.

"Now I get to be creative." The unholy gleam in the Assassin’s eyes was the last thing Miss Parker saw.

***

Mulder stood up and followed Duncan into the kitchen area. Richie had already gone home, while Jarod and Scully were busy scouring the web for information. Sam and Joe where quietly talking in a corner while pouring over an old chronicle.

"You killed that man, didn’t you?" Never one to mince words, Mulder started his discrete (to his mind) interrogation.

"Yes." Duncan saw no point in lying.

"Why?"

"Because he was after my head." Duncan emptied out the filter of the coffee maker and put in a clean one, for the forth time that evening.

"Why come all that way to kill you. Why would a accountant from Toronto come all this way to take your head?" Mulder wasn’t going to leave this alone. Before he could, he had to know more than the bits and pieces that have been tossed his way in the place of an explanation.

"It’s a private matter." A scoop of coffee grounds went into the machine.

"Not when these deaths have been going on for hundreds of years and my sister is right in the middle of one."

"She wasn’t involved, other than covering for me. Of her own free will." Duncan emphasized the last part, hoping to get the Agent off his back. He wasn’t that lucky.

"So why go around killing each other in ritualized duels. Why can there only be one?" Mulder laid out what he knew and hoped that he hadn’t overplayed his hand.

"All I know is what every other Immortal knows." Duncan started the coffee maker then leaned against the counter, giving up on getting out of this without giving a complete explanation. "We play the Game, two fight and one wins, taking the other’s head and his Quickening, But never on holy ground. Not even the most evil of us will break that rule. The last one alive wins the Prize, to use as they see fit."

"What’s a Quickening. And the Prize?" Mulder’s eyes lit up as his curiosity was being satisfied.

"Quickening is like a person’s life force; their knowledge, their experiences and all that makes us different from mindless animals." Duncan had never been the best at explaining this, and now was no exception. Maybe he was just tired. "Some might call it the closest thing we have to a soul. As for the Prize? No one is really sure what it is. It will be the accumulation of every Quickening of every Immortal."

They sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what had been said. Mulder went through everything in his head, some points sticking in his mind, not so much over what was said but what wasn’t. He knew his history very well, so he could build a bit of a picture of the superstition that must have surrounded Immortals through the ages. They would either be heralded as gods, or damned as devils. Pulling his mind back to more immediate concerns, Mulder broke the quiet.

"How does Joe know so much? Did you tell him?"

"Joe’s a Watcher." Since Watchers had already been mentioned, though only in passing, Duncan didn’t see any harm about explaining about them. Maybe Joe could recruit Mulder. "They follow the us and record our deeds for posterity’s sake. They have a much more accurate view of history compared to the textbooks."

"This is all fine and dandy, but tell me why I shouldn’t haul your ass into the station right now and have you charged with murder?" Mulder still felt that there was more to be said. He wouldn’t betray this secret if only for the sake of his sister, but he wanted to know more about the thoughts of the man in front of him. He was more than pleased with Duncan’s fervent answer.

"If you do that, hundreds of innocents will be hurt. The only thing keeping some of us in line is the need to keep a low profile. And what reaction would the public have to us. We are people easy to hate, easier to fear and all to tempting a target. The reason we hide is so that places like the Center, or even the Government can't use us as guinea pigs or lab rats to run through their mazes.

"As for the population in general, I’ve seen enough of humanity’s ability to hate on the slimmest pretext to realize we wouldn’t be greeted with open arms. They would have reason to fear us and we can be killed if a person knows how. I lost a very old friend to a group of Mortals who thought we were all devils and deserved to die. He was a priest and hadn’t stepped off of holy ground for hundreds of years.

"Some secrets are best kept."

***

Climbing up the stairs, the Assassin was hoping things would be as interesting as they had been with Miss Parker, but she also knew that another suspicious death would be more than her masters would permit. Her orders were to make this one less bloody. Of course, after the mess left in the hospital, less bloody covered a lot of territory.

Reaching the door, she kicked it in violently. Since the victim was such a young man, dying of natural causes would be suspicious, so she decided to go for the botched robbery scenario. He lived in a bad enough neighborhood for it to be more than believable. Hearing a scuffle from the back she moved in that direction, gently swinging the baseball bat back and forth.

Stepping through a doorway, she found her prey more than ready. He let out a roar and charged her. Men could be so dense, but since he hadn’t come up against her kind before, it was understandable. Letting him come at her, she threw a neat roundhouse kick, aimed at his head and was only faintly surprised when he blocked it. A few seconds passed in a series of attacks and counters that left her faintly amazed at this man. He was actually very good. Not even close to her league, but still good in his own right.

But fun as it all was, she’d have to end it. The violence never lasted long enough. She spun around, but this time, it was the bat that hit his face. There was a sick crunch and he fell down to his knees.

"Well, fun as this all is, Richie, I’m afraid I have to end this."

"Why?" He could barely get the words past his mangled lips.

"Well, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. No witnesses." With that, she brought the bat down on his head. The dent it left gave no doubt as to the state of the late Richie Ryan.

***

I basically turned the other cheek while Fox grilled Duncan. When they came back without any evidence of fisticuffs, I figured they’d come to some kind of understanding. Having gone over the files and everything else I’d managed to beg, plead and beseech out of everyone, I still had gaps in my life. The last time I show up on the DSA’s was in ’88. That leaves ten years between when I left the Center and when I showed up at Treemark Mall. Some of it can be attributed to hooking up with Father, as he seemed to indicate I had, but what happened then?

Things were starting to run down now that everyone had spilled their guts. There was a general feeling in the air of ‘what do we do now that we know all this.’ Scully and Fox only had a few more days in the city before heading back to Washington, Jarod would have to move on soon and Joe and Duncan had businesses to run. They had already helped me out more than they could guess just by sharing what they knew.

Stepping out into the night air, I took a deep breath and contemplated what I should do next. Now that I knew who I was, the main question left was what happened to me after I left the Center. I don’t think the Center would willingly let me go so I must have gotten away somehow. I had to wonder how? Jarod hadn’t said anything about how he’d gotten away, but it can’t have been easy.

Why would I leave in the first place? Did I get sick of the death and the killing? Something just wasn’t falling into place. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I put aside thoughts of the Center and tried to just enjoy the night. The cool air brushed against my face and I closed my eyes in the sheer pleasure of the feeling. I untied my braid and let my hair out, letting the wind play in it, tugging at strands and causing them to flutter out behind me.

I took another deep breath and let it out slowly, the whole time letting my eyes play over the nighttime crowds. There were a few bars in the area and a steady stream of people were out and about enjoying the last day of the weekend.

Maybe I would go with Jarod and forget about the past. Isn’t that what I’ve wanted from the start? It wouldn’t be a new beginning, but it would be close enough for me. I could keep in touch with Fox and maybe I could visit with him for a while. I could go see my mother.

A longing swept over me as I thought about her. I couldn’t remember her, yet the thought of having a person to call Mother left me with a yearning to find that connection again. I should find out more about the child I was before I was taken. It seemed like she was happy.

I could ask Jarod if he wanted to come with me. I didn’t really want to part company with him, but also I didn’t really want to go much into the reasons behind those feelings. I had a suspicion it was one can of worms I didn’t want to open. Anyway, the last thing he needed was to be saddled with me. Jarod would go to New York, I’d go with Fox.

Eventually, the tension of the past week leaked out of me as I walked and as I cut across a small park, I let the tranquillity of the night wash over me. It was a beautiful summer night. It had cooled off enough to give everyone a break from the humid heat of day, while being warm enough not to need a jacket or something. I had mine on anyway, snuggling into the folds of Jarod’s jacket. Joe had brought it over when he came, probably guessing today’s session would end up going till well after dark and that by then, a light coat would be nice.

I was glad that Joe had come by. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about everything since it was his bar that got shot up. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him last night, so when Jarod told me he’d be joining up with us, I was ecstatic. Joe was a good friend and I was glad that he had helped me. I didn’t know how I could repay him for that.

***

Opening the door was the easiest thing she’d done all day. Not as satisfying as kicking it in, but it was nice to get back to the simplicity of picking a lock. She entered the main room, impressed by the neatness that confronted her. It was definitely a man’s place, but it had a Spartan comfort that she found soothing. She walked back to the door and quickly smeared a clear gel on to the outside doorknob. Carefully taking the latex gloves off, she put them into a plastic bag, stuffing it into a waist pouch. After that she closed the door, turned the dead bolt and sat down in a leather chair, patiently waiting.

About ten minutes later, there was a slight rattle of keys before one went in the slot and the lock was turned. A second after that, the door opened and Joe Dawson walked in. He was an older man and nothing would be more natural than for him to suffer a heart attack after the stresses of the previous day. He put down his keys then stepped into the short hall, turning the lights on as he came forward. He froze, when he saw her.

"What do you want?"

"You know, some people have no imagination. That’s all I ever get." Bringing her hands together, she clasped them on her lap. "I never get a ‘Hello’, or ‘How’s it going’. I suppose it could be considered an occupational hazard."

"Why don’t you cut the bull and tell me why you’re here?" He tilted his head to the side, his eyes squinting, as sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Well, there were some complications on a job my employers contracted out. I recommended never hiring them again." She gave a little chuckle at the thought of the survivor’s last minutes. She’d been allowed to play with him. "I’m the clean up crew."

"You’re here to kill me." Joe blinked a few times and his face had gotten very pale while his left hand opened and closed stiffly.

"It’s too late though." She leaned forward, a satisfied grin taking the place of the calm facade she’d had in place earlier.

"What?" This time he shook his head, not comprehending her meaning as he swayed and then stumbled.

"You’re already dead." She stood up, looking down at her now fallen victim. He was now in severe cardiopulmonary distress and was staring up at the ceiling, struggling to breathe. After a few minutes, he was still. Kneeling down beside the body, she double-checked the pulse, then pulled out gloves and a damp cloth from a different pocket in her pouch. Once the door handle was wiped off, she arranged the room to her liking and with the door unlocked, left.

***

The bar was still nuts as I stepped in, but Joe had managed to put some things in order after the police let him back in. The chairs and tables that were still usable were stacked up in a corner, while the wreckage that was left had already been taken out to the back alley. The bar itself was pretty much a write off, along with most of the stock, and Joe’s office was in serious need of new paneling.

Stepping into the back, there was much less damage. My room was pretty much the same as I’d left it yesterday, if you ignored the light filtering in through the bullet holes. Fortunately, my bear escaped unharmed. The shirt I’d hung out to dry was another matter entirely. The kitchen was unscathed, along with the back storage room, but the back door was barely hanging from the hinges.

I gave up on surveying the damage so I flaked out on my bed with my bear watching over me. I still had a million thoughts running through my head and I let them wash over me, trying not to think of anything in particular. Staring up at the ceiling, my mind kept circling back to the Center and the gap of missing time.

Actually, there were two gaps. I was abducted when I was eight, but I didn’t show up at the Center until I was 12. There was no information from what anybody said about where I was during that time. Great, another question bouncing around my head. Was I at the Center or some where else? Somebody had to know.

I was certain the Center had more information. They had to have some records about how I ended up there and even if they’re false, there’s bound to be some sort of clue. They might also have some records about where I was sent to after I left the Center, but before I hooked up with Father. Or did I leave the Center at the same time Father did?

AARRRGGGGHHHH!!!! Punching a fist into a pillow, I tried to shut my mind off but I wasn’t having much success, so I got up and went to the kitchen. With some luck, there might be something to munch on in the fridge. How had Jarod ended up at the Center? From what he’d told me, I was much younger than he was. What about the other Assassins? And why did the man I called Father work for the Center, when he seemed to carry such enmity to them?

He wanted answers, he went to the Center. Ergo, if I wanted answers, I might find them at the Center. Just not right now. All I wanted at that moment was a clear head and a little sleep. I was tired of thinking. Not that I was thinking all that clearly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be thinking clearly. If I looked too closely at what I'd found out about myself, I didn't like what I found.

***

Pain.

Too much pain for a hit like this.

Pulling herself off the floor, she looked at the body stretched out before her. It took a moment for her breathing to calm down to the point she didn’t feel like her lungs were on fire. There was a long slice along her stomach and a gash on her hand where the man had caught her. He was better than he had any right to be. But like everyone who ever went against her, he was dead. Her face transformed with the thought, into a glorious smile.

He was fun. A master in Martial arts with a very violent history, he was very interesting. She already knew how she would display the body when she’d first stepped into the Dojo. She was half tempted to bring the head back now and leave it as a present for her masters, but she also wanted to keep her own head attached. They simply had no sense of humor.

Her blood pooled around her feet, so she would have to clean that up. She kicked a leg out of her way to a position more suited to her needs. Time to get started. Some time later, she looked at the scene she had orchestrated. The body was laid out, arms stretched wide in a parody of welcome. Blood spread out from the body, reflecting the glow of the lights like a black mirror. Words played around the edge of the nearly perfect circle, which roughly translated to "Death walked here."

The final touch was the sword sticking out of his heart. He’d actually come after her with a sword. As she’d sat waiting for him in the middle of the gym, she heard the ever so faint footsteps as they came down the stairs. She’d tipped a stack of weights over to get his attention.

She spun around on her butt to look at him and her eyes strayed to the tip of the sword pointed in her direction. Her eyes lit up at the sight. She loved swords. They were so brutal. It had taken all her skill to place that particular one in his chest when the man was breathing so she left it there as a testament to her skill. It had popped up a little when he fell, leaving glistening streaks of red on the metal. On the whole she liked the effect.

Stumbling slightly as she went to the doors, she was going to call it a night. She was supposed to take everyone out as quickly as possible, but the rest could wait until later. She needed a chance to gather her energy after this. But boy had it been fun. With a grin still firmly in place, she carefully closed the door behind her and left.